When Ben Fox, founder of shepherd.com contacted me, he asked if I’d like to share my five favourite books. Novels or factual, either would do. Well, I can tell you, it was no easy task to choose just five out of so many brilliant books out there. But here we are. Of course, I’ve already thought of another five, but this will do for now! Do any of my choices match yours?
https://shepherd.com/best-books/tudor-that-are-informative-and-imaginative
“And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus, I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me.”
Thus, on 19th May, 1536, when England displayed a riot of spring blossoms,
Anne Boleyn went to her death by the executioner’s sword. Nearly five hundred years later, this extraordinary woman captivates us still, and we cannot read enough about her tumultuous years with King Henry.
But what about the years before she met him? Anne, it seems, had a full, happy life in Norfolk, Kent, Mechelen, in the Low Countries, and France – long before she came to the English court. And yet we allow ourselves to become so preoccupied with her love affair with Henry, that we overlook her formative years. The very years that, through training at foreign courts, made Anne who she was.
So, if you are curious about how Anne ‘became Anne’ and wish to understand the woman better by seeking out the girl, then here is a fabulous opportunity to do just that. In this beautiful month of May, what could be nicer than sitting in a garden (hopefully full of cherry blossom) and reading about Anne’s remarkable journey towards a crown.
Do grab this bargain whilst it’s available. Hopefully, I have ‘judged the best.’But that is for you to decide…!
As I sit here in the depths of a dark, dull January day, I’ve been thinking back to 2019 and those hot, summer days before lockdown. That year I spent a week in London visiting Tudor places I hadn’t been to before. One of them was the London Charterhouse. Much has been written about this Carthusian priory, dating back to the 14th century, and it was on my list to visit.
It was a sunny, September day when I visited the house, in Smithfield, tucked away on a quiet street, away from the London traffic. I could not believe this peaceful spot was in a city. On reaching the reception desk, I was informed that sadly, there were no tours that day but I was welcome to walk in the Great Chamber. Renovated through funds from the National Lottery, and supported through other financial sources, I was able to enjoy the last surviving Tudor Great Chamber in London. Originally built by Edward North in the 1540s, and referred to as the ‘Throne Room,’ Elizabeth I held her first Privy Council there before being crowned Queen of England.
As I gazed through the windows down onto the orchard trees, heavy with apples, I decided to go out into the gardens next. Not a soul appeared to be around and so I stepped over the low, stone wall to take a look at a plaque that had caught my eye across the green. Coming up close, I saw that it listed the brothers who had suffered death 1535-1537, during the Dissolution of the Monasteries, amongst them John Houghton and Robert Lawrence. Both were priors at Beauvale Priory, (where ever that was) and I recalled their names from my reading about the divorce of King Henry and Katherine of Aragon.
Robert Lawrence had travelled to London, in 1535, to meet Thomas Cromwell, for he and his brothers could not swear to the Oath of Supremacy. This oath, whereby the King declared himself Head of the English Church, they simply could not, in good conscience, take. Cromwell refused to meet Lawrence, or listen to his plea, and had him imprisoned in the Tower of London as a traitor. John Houghton, Lawrence's predecessor as Prior at Beauvale, had also been imprisoned there. Later, they were executed for refusing to conform. Both became the first martyrs of the Reformation and were declared saints, in 1970.
Just as I was thinking about this, a loud shout made me jump and I turned around. A gentleman called out that I was trespassing and must return to the path immediately. He appeared frightfully cross and so I quickly went back. About half an hour later, appearing rather apologetic, he offered to take me on a private tour of the inner courtyard, and other places not normally seen by the public. I didn’t know a great deal about the place, except that during the reign of King Henry VIII, Thomas More often came to the priory for spiritual guidance, away from the machinations at court. After it was dissolved as a priory, King Henry VIII used it as a store.
My guide, who lived there, explained that after the dissolution of the monasteries it was rebuilt, and became one of the most important houses in Tudor London. In 1564 Thomas Howard, 4th Duke of Norfolk bought the place and re-named it Howard House. It has been a boys’ school and is now alms houses, which remain to this day. The residents of the alms house are known as ‘Brothers’. This is just a traditional term for those living there and acknowledges the past when there was a monastery on the site.
We then had a splendid time discussing King Henry and Anne Boleyn, and how she, herself, was angry that the money from the dissolved monasteries hadn’t reached the schools, as she intended. Anne was all for reform, but reform that would result in a better education for everyone. The king and Cromwell, of course, had other ideas and the money went into the royal coffers.
When I finally made my way back home, I could not help but think what a wonderful place the Charterhouse would be to live. It had been a truly fascinating place to visit.
Time passed, and over a year later, I was asked by my cousin if I’d like to meet her for tea. I was up in the Midlands and as I’m always up for tea and cake, she suggested the Gatehouse Tea Rooms in the heart of D H Lawrence country. I’d never heard of the tearoom and tapped the postcode into my satnav, and drove off. As it was raining when I got there, we quickly ran into a delightful, oak-beamed room and ordered tea and lemon cake. Afterwards, since the downpour had stopped, my cousin suggested a walk around the priory. What priory? I asked. She said that this was the ruined Beauvale Priory, in Nottinghamshire. I thought for a moment. Where had I seen that name before? Then it came to me. On the London Charterhouse plaque. I had come, (quite without intention) to the actual priory where John Houghton and Robert Lawrence had once lived.
Beauvale Priory was founded in 1343 by Nicholas de Cantilupe, one of only nine priories to be built in England dedicated to the Carthusian Order of monks. The monks lived a silent life at Beauvale for 200 years until the Dissolution of the Monasteries. The community survived peacefully living a life of worship and work until the disruption of the Reformation.
There is little left of the ruins now, but there are some remains of the church, the chapter-house and cloisters, the Prior’s house, and the gatehouse (now the tea-room.) As we wandered around, I thought of the journey the monks had made to London, to plead their cause. Did they really believe they would be allowed to return to the peace of Beauvale without swearing the oath?
As I got back into my car, I felt subdued. But before long I was thinking that somehow I always managed to end up somewhere with a Tudor connection. Two places, nearly five hundred years and a hundred miles apart, came together perfectly in a moment – and all through a random invitation to join my cousin for tea.
The Charterhouse
Charterhouse Square, London
EC1M 6AN
thecharterhouse.org
Beauvale Abbey Farm, New Road, Moorgreen, Nottingham NG16 2AA
Charterhouse Hospital c.1770
The Great Chamber.
Plaque at London Charterhouse.
Alms Houses London Charter House.
Beauvale Priory.
Stone Beauvale Priory.
Harry Percy, the new Earl of Northumberland, hated being stuck in the north and wrote to a friend that the ‘unhappy air’ was making him weak. Unlike the south, he felt the north barbarous and much preferred the court of King Henry VIII where he was surrounded by art, music, and culture. A mutual love of such things may have brought Harry and Anne Boleyn together in the first place, but the match had been forbidden and there was no use dwelling on the past. Harry was married to Mary Talbot, the King had turned his eye to Anne, and he must now turn his eye to the north.
Ahead of Harry lay a tough job, for the Scots continually raided English villages, and vice-versa, and Cardinal Wolsey placed little faith in Harry’s effectiveness to control them. At Alnwick Castle Harry did his best, holding regular councils to try and address any problems, unaware of Wolsey’s spies watching his every move. But it was not easy for a young man plagued by ill health and before long, he had made enemies of those he had punished. Did he still yearn for Anne? She was now mistress to the king, flying high, with everything she could ever wish for. However, with the birth of a still-born son in 1528, Harry’s marriage had completely broken down, and he and Mary probable separated. In 1530, he was sent on the king’s business to arrest Cardinal Wolsey, now fallen from favour, and languishing in the north. Wolsey had forbidden Harry’s affair with Anne and he was ordered to bring him to London. It must have given him small comfort to see him brought down so low.
In 1532, Harry’s wife, seeing an escape from a miserable marriage, repeated her list of matrimonial grievances to her father, who then repeated them to Anne Boleyn’s uncle, the Duke of Norfolk. Mary accused Harry of a pre-contract with Anne, thus ensuring her marriage to Harry would be judged null and void. Affronted, Anne ordered a public inquiry. Harry denied the accusation, and, to Mary’s chagrin, his accusers were dismissed. Everything blew over and was forgotten…or was it?
Over the next few years, King Henry chipped away at the power of the Percy family, and Harry was ordered to obey only instructions from London on the governance of the north.
In May 1536, Harry’s world turned upside down when he was questioned, yet again, on his pre-contract with Anne, now, Queen of England. He was tired of the whole affair and yet bravely, he wrote to Cromwell: ‘I perceive that there is supposed a pre-contract between the Queen and me; whereupon I was not only heretofore examined upon my oath before the archbishops of Canterbury and York, but also received the blessed sacrament upon the same before the duke of Norfolk…assuring you, Mr. Secretary, by the said oath and blessed body…that the same may be to my damnation if ever there were any contract or promise of marriage between her and me.’
What more could he say? It was the truth, and he was sick of repeating it.
But worse was to come. Anne had been arrested and on the 15th May, he was summoned to her trial in the Tower of London. The woman he had once loved now stood fighting for her life, accused of treason and incest, amongst other crimes. Although it was his duty to attend, it was cruel to appoint Harry one of her judges, and when he saw her, he collapsed and had to be removed from the hall. How different things would have turned out had she been allowed to marry him! A few days later, Anne was executed.
The summer that followed brought great misery to the north, for the harvest failed and many starved. High taxes and religious reforms caused further unrest, and a rebellion known as the ‘Pilgrimage of Grace’ gathered more numbers daily. The leader, Robert Aske, visited his friend, Harry Percy, at Wressle Castle, in Yorkshire, along with Harry’s brother, Thomas. Harry refused to see his brother and remained in bed and it was left to Aske to urge him to join them, along with Ingelram, Harry’s other brother. However, Harry refused to support the rebels even though outside his window Thomas’s men were threatening to kill him and make Thomas the earl instead. Matters were turning violent and Aske whisked the ailing, tearful Harry away to the safety of York, to recover. When the Pilgrimage failed no mercy was shown to the rebels. Thomas Percy was executed for his part and Ingelram was locked up in the Tower, although he was later released and fled abroad. If Harry thought his loyalty would placate the king – or Cromwell – he was wrong, for regardless of taking no part in the rebellion, he was accused of treason and ordered to London – travelling in a litter due to his sickness – to answer the charges. It was a desperate situation.
With his brother dead and no heir, on 3 June 1537, Harry wrote to Cromwell agreeing to give up all his inheritance to the king. He had hoped to give something to his nephew, but when his brother was attainted, he changed his mind. A few weeks later, on St Peter’s day, a priest reported to Cromwell that he found Harry at his house at Hackney, languens in extremis, sight and speech failed, his stomach swollen ‘so great as I never see none, and his whole body as yellow as saffron, but his memory still good…. He cannot live 24 hours. This last three weeks he had no money but by borrowing.’
He died that night, in his mid-thirties, possibly from pancreatic cancer or hepatitis, leaving a long list of debtors. He did manage to leave his wife 500 marks, a mark being worth around 13 shillings and 4 pence.
He was buried rather hastily on the same day he died, at Hackney church, and was not given the usual, lavish, aristocratic funeral procession. No member of his family attended and the chief mourner was a ‘Lord Butler.’ It appeared a rather mean affair, a sad end to a sad young life, but since the king controlled such noble funerals, perhaps he was making it clear that he would no longer accept powerful nobles such as the Percies.
Today, the church at St John-at-Hackney, in London, built in 1792, contains monuments dating from the early sixteenth century, which were transferred from the medieval parish church to the present one. Only St. Augustine’s Tower remains at the edge of the churchyard. Percy’s monument reads:
Here lieth interred, HENRY, lord PERCY, earl of Northumberland, knight of the most honorable order of the garter, who died in this town the last of June 1537, the 29th of HEN. VIII.
I think it is a sad end for a young man who was thought a wastrel. Had his health been better, had he not been burdened with debt, he may have been less ineffectual in his dealings with the north. Maybe then he would have been less inclined to ‘fall weeping, ever wishing himself out of the world.’ However, he must have had something about him for the man who had loathed his father, wife, and two brothers loved the intelligent and cultured, Anne Boleyn. How different history would have been, had they married…
Sources:
Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume 4, 1524-1530
The Percies of Northumberland by Douglas Stedman.
Kings in the North, the House of Percy in British History, Alexander Rose.
Images: Anne holds a miniature of Harry. Alnwick Castle. St John-at-Hackney.
I was absolutely delighted to be invited to join historical author, Tony Riches, on his blog, The Writing Desk this week. Tony is an award-winning author, and after writing several successful non-fiction books, he decided his real interest is in the history of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. His Tudor Trilogy has become an international best-seller and he is in regular demand as a guest speaker about the lives of the early Tudors. Our interests also overlap, since Tony has written about the young Anne Boleyn when she makes her first appearance with Mary Tudor in France - then presents Charles Brandon with a dilemma when he has to support her (and later condemn her). You simply must get a copy of the book ‘Mary – Tudor Princess’ to find out what happens! Anyway, here are the questions from Tony:
Tell us about your latest book:
My latest novel is called 'The Falcon’s Flight’. It is part two of the story ‘The Falcon’s Rise’ and both books cover the early life of Anne Boleyn. In this second book, Anne is aged 14 as she travels to Paris to join her sister as a maid-of-honour to Princess Mary Tudor. The princess has just married old King Louis, and Anne catches up with her sister at the coronation. When she is asked to help the mother of the young king-in-waiting, Louise of Savoy, she is unclear where her loyalties lie and soon makes an enemy of Mary Tudor. Intrigue, gossip, and treachery abound. When the widowed Mary returns to England, Anne remains in France to serve Queen Claude, but due to her sister’s actions, her place at court is threatened. A dangerous love affair follows, and Anne finds an unlikely ally in the new king’s mistress, Françoise de Foix. When Anne’s life is in peril, her destiny is revealed. However, nothing goes to plan, and life at the French court is not quite how she imagined. Constantly travelling, she accompanies Queen Claude as she journeys through France and the Loire valley, before finally arriving – a young woman more French than English – at the Field of the Cloth of Gold in 1520.
I had a fantastic time in France researching this book in the beautiful Loire region, visiting the châteaux and archives, and seeing the places Anne would have seen. It was a wonderful experience to be able to walk through the rooms where Anne resided and to experience the beautiful countryside. It was also a perfect opportunity to buy books, maps and documents unavailable in the UK and so increase my knowledge of the places Anne visited.
What is your preferred writing routine?
I started writing this book when I was still working full-time, so concentrating on it often took a back seat. I’d use the evenings to read and research, but I made sure Sunday afternoons were always put aside to plan, construct, and write. When I retired, in 2016, I was halfway through the book and had more time. However, I have to say I find it very hard to sit still. Not at all good for a writer! So my routine is to do my jobs in the morning, get out for exercise and fresh air, and then start writing from about 4 pm onwards. I’ve always worked better at the end of the day as I have never been a morning person.
What advice do you have for new writers?
Well, I feel very flattered by that question! However, in my small way, I hope I can offer some advice, learnt mainly through making mistakes.
• Firstly, get hold of a copy of The Writers and Artists Yearbook for publishing advice etc. It is incredibly useful, with lots of contact addresses and practical tips for new writers.
• Next, I would advise that you write because you just have to tell your story, not in the hope of making money. There are no shortcuts and you cannot short change your readers by trying to get a book out there quickly. It might take you years, but just go at your own pace and don’t rush it.
• Write about what you know about, or are familiar with. This will give your book authenticity, so read and research at every opportunity.
• Think about who is going to read your book and where it will sit in the market. Be very clear who your audience will be.
• Write every day. Even if it’s just a description of something, or writing out a favourite piece of prose. It keeps your mind trained on the art of writing and using words, and I found it important. Don’t worry if you have a bad writing day, do something else, but don’t leave it too long before returning to your book. I found it much harder to pick up where I’d left off after a few weeks’ break. It’s really easy to slip out of a routine.
• Edit, edit, and edit again. If you are planning on sending your manuscript to a publisher, your work must be as near perfect as possible. Nothing puts people off more than shoddy punctuation, spelling, and grammar. I had the annoying habit of spelling people’s names and places differently, and I hadn’t even noticed. Make sure you keep everything consistent. You can, of course, pay for professional editing, but there are also good grammar/spelling programmes on the internet to run your work through. Just make it as good as you can get.
• Network. Social media and the internet are full of lots of writers groups where you can get support and advice. They are always happy to advise and help new writers if possible. If you don’t like online groups, try your local community. Ask if your local book club would mind reading your book. Don’t be afraid, just ask!
• Finally, try not to get discouraged. Your writing will not be like anyone else’s, because it is unique to you, so don’t compare yourself to other authors. They all started somewhere. And if you give it your very best shot, the effort will pay off.
What have you found to be the best way to raise awareness of your books?
Well, social media is just great and I found that starting simply with something like FaceBook and asking people to share information about my novel was of enormous value. I also found out what sites, groups, pages, etc might relate to my subject and joined them. Of course, if you are writing about someone that has a huge following already (such as Anne Boleyn!) then you have a head start, with fans on social media at your disposal for marketing. People are very kind and helpful and will always try and promote you if possible.
If you are unsure about how to use social media – and there is no problem with that – there are still things you can do. With my first book, I had hundreds of advertising flyers printed. I then stood day after day outside bookshops and cafes, handing them out to people. I also left leaflets in bookstores, libraries, museums, and at book fairs. I gave talks about my book and took copies along to sell. Everywhere was an opportunity to advertise my story. It was all very old fashioned, and, of course, we were not in the middle of a lock-down, but it did feel as if I was doing something, and some of my best reviews were from people I'd chatted to, face to face. So, if you are not keen on using a computer, you can still – hopefully not before too long –get out there to raise awareness.
Tell us something unexpected you discovered during your research
That my understanding of French is much worse than I remembered! I had started to write about Anne at the French court but then, to my surprise, hit a brick wall. I discovered that nothing was written in English about Queen Claude, apart from a few bits on Wikipedia or short biographies. Since Anne was one of her maids, I needed to find out about her life and where she was at any given time between 1514 and 1521, the time scale of my novel. Not one to be defeated, I bought all the French works I could find on Claude, the French royal family, and the French court and then tried to translate them. But it was pretty slow going. Fortunately, help was on hand from a friend from Burgundy but it took me over a year to get the information I needed. So, I wasn’t expecting that at all and it certainly slowed me down.
What was the hardest scene you remember writing?
Do you want the truth here? I wrote a sizzling scene with Anne and her lover. Talk about a bodice ripper! However, being a convent girl, I bottled out. Besides, I thought my mum wouldn’t like it (Who am I kidding? She’s 90 for Heaven’s sake!)
But joking aside, when I read it through I thought it didn’t sit well with the Anne I had created – it just didn’t ring true. I tried several times but it was no good. Having made my novel as factual as possible such a descriptive scene had, I felt, moved into the realms of fantasy. I have to say, it got deleted pretty quickly!
What are you planning to write next?
Well, this is supposed to be a trilogy and the plan is to start writing ’The Falcon’s Fall’ about Anne Boleyn at the English court, her meeting with King Henry, and then her downfall. However, I’m having a break at the moment, although I have written the words 'Chapter One.’ However, I’ve also been delaying because I’m researching into a new angle, a new perspective on Anne’s life. Will I find it? We’ll have to wait and see.
In this short sample, Henry VIII’s sister, Mary Tudor, has married old King Louis of France. Anne and her sister have the good fortune of serving her at the French court, however, it appears that the young Anne has not made a very good start. Will she stay or be sent away? And what is Louise of Savoy scheming? You’ll have to find out more when the book comes out in May!
‘In soft deluding lies let fools delight.’
Paris and Saint-Germain-en-Laye
Frozen with cold, I held a piece of linen soaked in lavender to my nose. The grande salle of the Hôtel des Tournelles stank, due to its proximity to one of the greatest sewers in Paris, and as I sat on the wooden bench, my fingers numb, I cursed a king too mean to light the fires. Rubbing my cold hands, I gazed around as people went about their business. Young pages, messengers, noblemen, and their ladies strolled past the magnificent tapestries, and I thought about the court at Mechelen and Margaret of Savoy. No doubt she and her ladies were returning from Mass now, for it was not long since dawn.
A young woman approached me and interrupted my daydreaming, her face unsmiling. ‘Madame will see you now if you would follow me.’
I rose from the bench just as I spied the queen at the far end of the gallery, tittering and laughing with my sister, her ladies, and a large entourage of gaily clad young gentlemen. The queen’s laughter rang out, and my sister gave me a playful wave before disappearing through the door. I walked on a little farther until the woman in front stopped at a large, oak door and knocked. The voice inside sounded muffled, but the woman opened the door, and as I entered, closed it behind me. Astrological charts and a myriad of documents lay scattered across the floor. On a table lay an unfurled scroll of handwritten dates, with drawings of the planets around the margins. In front of me stood Madame d’Aumont, dressed in her usual black damask, her face set cold and imperious, and not a look that boded well. I gave a deep reverence.
‘What in the name of Heaven do you think you were doing?’ she asked angrily, twisting the ring on her finger. I stared at the large, white opal – a magical stone that gives insight to the wearer – and my heart began to race. ‘Well? Get up and speak,’ she said, moving closer, ‘and do not play games with me, young lady. You are a bright girl, not a dolt.’
‘Madame, forgive me. Are you referring to the queen’s distress?’ I refused to be cowed.
‘You know very well what I refer to,’ she said. ‘I am the dame d’honneur here, and I will not have my authority undermined in this manner. What gave you the right – the right – to be alone with the queen thus? Anything might have occurred. She could have been in mortal danger.’
‘By your leave, Madame, the queen herself requested that all leave her presence and so I only did as I was instructed.’
She narrowed her angry eyes. ‘I instruct, mistress, I do the instructing!’ she screeched. ‘You have been here but five minutes and appear to feel it is your place to know what is best for the queen. Well?’
I felt my cheeks burn with indignation as I stood berated.
‘What you did was quite outside the order of how things are done at this court. Do you hear me?’
‘I do, Madame.’
‘Here, we have precedents. Was nothing taught you at the court of Savoy? Should the queen be distressed about anything, you must fetch me, regardless,’ she said, raising her voice as I opened my mouth to speak, ‘of the queen’s wishes. Although I stood outside the door, you rudely refused to let me in. Refused! How dare you behave in such a manner? I should have you whipped, sent from the court as quite unsuitable, and packed off back to England. It has been done before to other such busybodies.’
‘Oh, Madame!’ I decided that a defiant stance might not be the best approach after all. ‘Please, please forgive me. I did not mean to offend you. I beg you not to send me away, for I mean only to have you satisfied with my conduct.’
One of the dogs by the fire whined for the raised voices had unsettled him.
‘Madame d’Aumont, if you please,’ came a calm voice from behind the high-backed chair in the corner. ‘You are frightening the girl.’
With a heavy sigh, a woman rose up and turned to face me. She held an astrological chart, and I dropped a curtsey, not daring to look upon the dark, looming figure of Louise of Savoy.
‘Get up, dear, would you care for some cordial?’ she asked kindly, clicking her fingers to a page to hand me a glass from the table. She put the chart down. ‘Really, such a fine intellect should not be cowed with harsh words,’ she chided, glancing towards the duchess. ‘Now, drink and recover your composure.’
I did as she commanded, nervously eyeing Madame d’Aumont, who appeared fit to burst like an overblown bladder. Louise, meanwhile, watched me with unblinking eyes, the folds of her ruby red gown falling like rivulets of blood in the candlelight.
‘Are you happy here?’ she asked with mild concern, plucking a grape from a nearby bowl. ‘You should be.’
‘Oh, indeed, Madame, although I have been here but a short while, and – and some of your ways are new to me.’
‘But you would like to stay – yes?’
‘Indeed, my lady, very much so.’
Louise walked over to the window and gazed down towards the noise outside. I could hear the queen’s laughing voice and recognised my sister’s high-pitched squeals. Barking dogs added to the commotion, and obviously, some great amusement was taking place below.
‘Such a pretty girl,’ said Louise, as she gazed through the thick, green glass. To my dismay, I heard my sister shriek again. The unmistakable Boleyn laugh sounded most unbecoming. ‘Tut, tut – English girls, what am I to do with them?’ she continued.
My heart sank as I feared we were both about to be sent back home - Mary for laughing too loudly, and me for having offended the dame d’honneur. I thought of my father and how he would be outraged. We had been here in France but a few weeks and now we would return home in disgrace. How humiliating.
‘Our queen,’ said Louise, moving from the window, ‘is young and needs guidance, for she is apt to be wilful and domineers others to get her way. I cannot quite decide if she is a foolish girl – or rather cunning. Oh, I cannot fault her behaviour to our beloved king and the people adore her, but she is – headstrong. You understand me?’
I nodded, but, in truth, I did not. The queen had behaved impeccably at all the ceremonies and celebrations, impressing the ambassadors with her dignity and grace.
‘Yes, Madame,’ was all I could say.
‘My dear, when you get to my age you learn to read people, to understand their true motives, and I understand the new queen very well. I know that she adores the exalted position of Queen of France, with its gowns, gifts, jewels, and attention. But she is not wise and puts her own needs and desires before all else. A queen cannot do that, and it is to this last matter that I must express my concerns.’ She paused and studied my face as if expecting some response.
‘How much do you wish to remain here?’ She took another sip of wine.
My expression immediately brightened. ‘Oh, more than anything, Madame!’
She smiled graciously. ‘So you will help me?’
Hôtel des Tournelles, Paris.
Mary Tudor and King Louis of France
Part One
No, not that Harry – Henry Algernon Percy, 6th Earl of Northumberland. We know he and Anne Boleyn had a love affair sometime between 1522 and 1527 when Anne was serving Queen Katherine at the Tudor court and Harry was a member of Cardinal Wolsey’s household. When the affair was discovered, his father and Cardinal Wolsey were greatly displeased. Harry was already intended for Mary Talbot, the daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury, and there may have been other plans for Anne. Whatever the real reason for their anger, the two lovers were ordered to part, and utterly humiliated by his father and Wolsey’s verbal tirades, Harry appears to have crumbled and accepted defeat. A fuming Anne Boleyn was promptly packed off back home to Hever Castle, to nurse her broken heart and rail at Cardinal Wolsey. And that, as they say, was that. Done and dusted – for the moment, at least.
But what of Harry? In misery and disgrace, he was ordered to return north, to the magnificence of Wressle Castle, in Yorkshire. He had been brought up at Wressle, a castle with five towers, moated on three sides – the fourth enjoying lovely gardens – with the River Derwent running close by. Here he had enjoyed a life of complete luxury, sharing one of the forty-three bedrooms with his younger brothers, Sir Thomas and Sir Ingelram Percy. Now, back in his childhood home, I can imagine him sulking over his lost love and staring in resentment at the new wife forced upon him.
On the other hand, perhaps there was little time to mope about what might have been. Back in July 1522, Harry had been appointed a member of the Council of the North – a court of justice to oversee the governing of Yorkshire and the north. This council would ensure the king’s orders were carried out since the north was always troublesome. Just to be sure, the king, aware that the people there would only accept orders from a Percy, made Harry Warden of the East and Middle Marches. He knew that the Percy family was an ancient and powerful dynasty, over five centuries old, and more important to those in the north than the king in London. They owned a vast amount of property and land throughout England and King Henry and Wolsey intended to curb their power. It is no wonder that the twenty-year-old Harry was eyed with jealousy and suspicion.
On 19 May 1527, Harry succeeded his father as sixth Earl of Northumberland and discovered that his father had died leaving him nothing but debts. Not surprisingly, all the money had gone on the earl’s lavish lifestyle at Wressle, and other properties, as can be seen in his household account book. Obviously, the old earl had not heeded the warning inscribed on the wall of one of the inner chambers:
‘When it is time of cost and great expense,
Beware of Waste and spend by measure:
Who that outrageously make his dispense,
Causes his goods not long to endure…’
Just to make matters worse, Wolsey refused Harry permission to attend his father’s funeral and appears to have treated him with some contempt. He seems to have had a poor opinion of him altogether, for he advised the boy to give better attendance to matters, leave of his prodigality, sullenness, mistrust, disdain, and making of trouble. If that wasn’t enough, Harry then wrote to his friend, Thomas Arundel, complaining that after his father’s death, Wolsey seized the furniture in his father’s chapel and his fine Service Books, and kept them for his own private use. Charming. With no money, an unhappy marriage and practically banned from court, matters were looking pretty bleak for the new earl…
Picture of Henry Percy, from the Duke of Northumberland Collection, Syon House.
Wressle Castle Yorkshire - Creative Commons images.
I often read in social media feeds that history fans who are visiting London would like suggestions for somewhere different to go. For a real hidden gem, I would recommend the Chelsea Physic Garden. I have been many times, and although the summer is the nicest time to go, the glorious snowdrop season is now upon us and equally lovely.
Founded in 1673, and set close to the banks of the River Thames, the Chelsea Physic Garden is one of London’s oldest botanic gardens. A physic garden was just as its name implied, a place where medicinal plants were grown and used by the infirmarer. Before the Dissolution of the monasteries, monks were particularly skilful in the application of these plants and afterwards many important gardens must have been left to fall into disrepair.
Here at Chelsea, the four acres contain a unique living collection of around 5,000 different edible, useful, medicinal and historical plants. As you wander around the beds, laid out in avenues, illustrated information panels explain what the different plants were used for. It is surprisingly quiet, too, even though so close to the busy embankment, and with plenty of benches, it’s a nice spot to sit with some lunch and ponder on the past.
I find it a great shame that the Tudor housewife had a far greater understanding and appreciation of these plants than we do in our own lives. Of course, there were ridiculous ‘cures’ too, but many would have worked to some degree and some are the basis of medicine today. For example, Willow bark extract, rich in salicylate, was used as a tea to reduce pain, fever, and inflammation and later became the basis for today’s Aspirin. And if you look in any pharmacy, you’ll see another reminder of the past. Coltsfoot (or Tussilago farfara) comes from the Latin tussis, a cough, and one of the cough mixtures on the shelf today is named after it. But I’m not telling you which, you’ll have to go and find it!
Anyway, if you are coming to England, do consider including this fascinating place in your itinerary. There are guided tours, walks, and workshops throughout the growing season. There’s also a shop where you can buy unusual plants and gifts and a café serving very good lunches and homemade cakes, which I highly recommend.
The website is https://www.chelseaphysicgarden.co.uk
Below are a few photos of the Physic Garden:
Book review
I came across this book by chance, at Christmas, on Amazon, and immediately bought it. I have always been a great fan of this film since it started my passion for the Tudors. So, any snippets of information I could get my hands on regarding the creation of this film would be eagerly read.
The book is not big – just 143 pages long – so it can be read pretty quickly. The first thirteen pages tell the historical background to the film, the truth about Anne Boleyn and King Henry VIII. This is useful for those who might not know the real story, making it clear that ‘Anne of the Thousand Days’ is not a documentary, but a mainly fictionalised love story.
The book goes on to discuss how the original play, written by Maxwell Anderson, started life in a Broadway theatre, in 1948. However, it took twenty years before a Hollywood producer turned it into an epic movie. Moving from stage to screenplay was interesting as a woman was chosen, Bridget Boland, to write from Anne’s perspective. Ahead of her time, Richard Burton, however, was critical of the dialogue.
As to the casting, Burton, although wanting the part of King Henry and enthusiastic at first, quickly became bored and difficult. Apparently, he had to rely on his wife, Elizabeth Taylor, to motivate him into learning his lines. He also wanted Taylor to play the part of Anne, and appears to have not liked his leading lady, 27-year-old French Canadian, Genevieve Bujold. But was this actually true? Since much of what is said in this book is taken from Richard Burton’s own diaries, we cannot be sure what was real and what was a smokescreen to hide a possible affair.
As to Genevieve, she says nothing about Burton and we are left to wonder what her true opinion might have been. Either way, Bujold took her role very seriously, doing a great deal of research so as to understand the character of Anne, whom she admired.
After the principal characters, the book takes a look at the other parts played and gives biographies on Anthony Quayle, Michael Horden, Irene Papas and others.
How the film was directed by Charles Jarrott is discussed in some detail, and it seems his calm nature was ideally suited to deal with the difficult Burton. He later went on to direct ‘Mary, Queen of Scots’, 1971, with Vanessa Redgrave.
The next few pages cover the costumes, information about the soundtrack, awards the film received, fact versus fiction and Anne Boleyn as a pop culture icon.
I enjoyed ‘Anne of the Thousand Days: The Making of an Epic’, very much and wish it had been longer. There are a few black and white illustrations, an interesting bibliography and it is well researched. I would have liked information about the sets, locations, and logistics of filming, but you can see some of this online. I’d also like to know what the locals thought about Hollywood coming to their village and if they were involved. Many years ago, I was told by someone at Hever Castle that Richard Burton had demanded exotic fruit to eat on set, such as the newly introduced Kiwi fruit. Since such fruits were impossible to find in a small place like Edenbridge, they had to be flown in. True, or just a story? I would also have liked to have had more information on the dynamic between the actors and actresses, more on what they thought of each other. With so much talent, the set must have been a hot-bed of tension at times. But perhaps that’s just me enjoying, as the author herself says, the juicy bits.
Finally, if you’d like to read more about the making of this film, Susan Bordo interviews Genevieve Bujold in her book ‘The Creation of Anne Boleyn’, published in 2014.
About the author:
Jennifer Lafferty is the author of Movie Dynasty Princesses; Rebecca: The Making of a Hollywood Classic; Offbeat Love Stories and More; and Knight of the Purple Ribbon. Her fiction has appeared in magazines such as The Storyteller and Deep South Magazine. She has written articles for a number of publications including MORE; Divine Caroline; Fitness & Physique; and Stack News. She sometimes uses the pen name Jennifer Leigh Wells.
Besides reading and writing, Jennifer's other great passion is music. She enjoys classic rock, soul, indie, and dance. Her favourite artists range from Dusty Springfield to Sara Bareilles, to Jamie Cullum.
I can’t believe we are almost in the second week of Advent - where is the time going? Anyway, take a break from rushing about buying presents and posting cards, sit down with a mug of hot chocolate and take a peek at the Anne Boleyn Files website. They have put up an Advent Calendar, full of all sorts of goodies to read! It is a really festive treat. Today, it’s my turn to contribute and I have written a piece about the young Anne Boleyn dancing at the court of Margaret of Austria, during the Epiphany revels. Watch out for those pesky camels!
https://www.theanneboleynfiles.com/advent2019/page7.php
Known as All Saints, Chelsea Old Church is an Anglican church situated on Old Church Street, Chelsea, London, near Albert Bridge. Living and working just round the corner, I have often visited but never actually had a proper tour. So, as I was down there in September, I thought I’d pop in.
It was a beautiful, hot, Sunday afternoon and outside a guide stood enjoying the sunshine. He offered to show me around the church and so we entered the cool, dark interior. Was this where Princess Elizabeth, Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleves, Katherine Parr and Lady Jane Grey had once actually listened to Mass?
There had been a church on this site since Christianity first came to England, and sometime in the 13th century, a new stone church was erected. The earliest part of the church was the chancel, to which north and south chapels were added around 1325. The nave and the tower did not follow for several centuries, until around 1670.
However, what we see today is a reconstruction, for when a parachute landmine fell nearby in 1941, the blast blew the Tower over onto the church destroying it. Fortunately, it was restored in its entirety using what was left of the original foundations.
I was told that after the battle of Bosworth in 1485, Sir Reginald Bray – who had found Richard III’s crown in a thorn bush – acquired the Manor of Chelsea and with it the private chapel in the church. When Reginald died in 1503, the estate was mainly left to the sons of his younger brother, John, but this was disputed and it was divided between the nephews and Sir William Sandy’s, who had married their cousin.
When Sir Thomas More settled in Chelsea – a rural spot – in about 1520, he built himself a fine house surrounded by beautiful, formal grounds. These stretched down to the River Thames where his barge waited to take him to Westminster or Hampton Court on state business. The Tudors also had a residence in the neighbourhood (called Chelsea Place and sadly demolished in the 18th century) and King Henry VIII, to whom More owed his rise and fall, frequently came to visit. He would spend whole days in the most familiar manner with his learned friend, Thomas, enjoying debates or discussing, among other subjects, astronomy. Today, no trace of either house remain.
More went on to rebuild one of the chapels in the Old Church and the southern aisle was erected at his own cost, in 1528. The date can be found on one of the capitals of the pillars leading to the chancel, which were reputedly designed by Hans Holbein, the court painter. The carvings on the pillars are interpreted as representing aspects of More’s life, such as a bundle of tapers, two crossed candlesticks, a pail of holy water and a missal with clasps. He also donated the communion plate and with a forecast of the coming troubles, remarked, ‘Good men give these things, and bad men will soon take them away.’
Sir Thomas’s association with the church was certainly devout, and he and his family worshipped there regularly. He usually attended Divine service on Sundays and very often assisted at the celebration of Mass. The Duke of Norfolk, coming one day to dine with him during his chancellorship, found him in church wearing a surplice and singing in the choir. ‘God's body, my Lord Chancellor!’ cried the duke, as they returned to his house. ‘What! A parish clerk! A parish clerk! You dishonour the king and his office.’ ‘Nay,’ replied Sir Thomas, ‘you may not think your master and mine will be offended with me for serving God, his master, or thereby count his office dishonoured.’
Later, however, Sir Thomas did offend the king, and when he felt he could not accept King Henry as the head of the church, he resigned his office of Lord Chancellor and retired to Chelsea. There in the peace and quiet, he erected a monument and tomb in the church for his first wife, and then, when the time came, for himself and his second wife. But his peace was not to last long. Unable to accept the Act of Supremacy, he was tried and executed. Sadly, his burial wishes were not met, for his body was laid to rest in the church of St Peter ad Vincula, at the Tower of London, in an unmarked grave, and his head placed on London Bridge. His daughter, Margaret, rescued his head and it now rests in the Roper family vault at St. Dunstan’s, Canterbury. Margaret, herself, most likely lies in the tomb at Chelsea. Standing by the tomb I was told that, by some miracle, the Thomas More Chapel suffered the least damage from the bombing. The plaster at the West end of the chapel was most certainly destroyed, but it revealed one of the oak roof frames and this was left uncovered to show an example of pre-Tudor building work.
Chelsea Old Church is claimed to have the most impressive array of monuments outside Westminster Abbey. Many were very badly damaged, but restored by the architect, Mr. W. Godfrey. In one corner of the More Chapel is the tomb of Jane Guildford, Duchess of Northumberland, mother-in-law of Lady Jane Grey when Jane married Guildford Dudley.
There are also the Chained Books, and these are the only such example in any London church, the gift of Sir Hans Sloane, Irish physician and collector (1661-1753). They consist of the Vinegar Bible (a version of the King James bible printed in 1717), two volumes of Foxe's Book of Martyrs (1684), a Prayer Book (1723) and Homilies (1683).
The Vinegar Bible is called such because the chapter heading in Luke 20 should read ‘The parable of the vineyard.’ Instead it reads, ‘the parable of the vinegar’ hence the title the Vinegar Bible. When the bible was published in 1717 it was criticised by the clergy for its misspellings.
I spent a few hours here and I would recommend anyone visiting London tries to pop in on a Sunday afternoon. Behind the church there is a pretty garden and Roper's Garden, across Old Church Street from the West door, is believed to have been part of the garden of More's estate in Chelsea. At the front stands the statue of Sir Thomas More by L. Cubitt Bevis which was erected in 1969. If you do visit, it is only a stone’s throw away from the King’s Road, where you can enjoy afternoon tea at any one of its numerous cafés. A delightful end to a delightful afternoon.
Finally, if you would like to read more about this church, an important history has been published. It is called ‘A History of Chelsea Old Church, the Church that refused to die’. It is written by Alan Russet and Tom Pocock and the foreword is by John Simpson CBE, World Affairs Editor of the BBC. The book is beautifully illustrated and costs £25.
Chelsea Old Church today
Part of the More Chapel
Emblems of More's public office
The memorial to the Duchess of Northumberland
The Chained Books
I am very grateful to my friend, Philip Dixon, for bringing this amazing sale to my attention. A very rare oak mount of the royal badge of Anne Boleyn almost certainly from Hampton Court Palace. It leads the Bonhams Oak Interior Sale at Bonhams Auctioneers, Oxford saleroom, on Wednesday 18 September, and is estimated at £50,000-80,000.
Excited, I rang Mr David Houlston, Head of Oak furniture at Bonhams, and he kindly agreed that I can use the catalogue information for this blog. So here is what he has to say about this spectacular piece:
A significant and rare Henry VIII carved oak mount, 1533-6, of Anne Boleyn's (c.1501-36) royal badge, possibly by Richard Rydge (fl. 1532-6)
Covered now in an off-black paint, with traces of a lighter pinkish bole below, and scattered areas of red pigment, and gilding, and modelled as a falcon wearing a closed imperial crown, its fore-wing furled over at the top, its rear wing aloft, and holding a sceptre formed as a pair of opposing balusters topped by a gadrooned ball knop, the falcon standing on a tapering stump or woodstock, pounced and with dentil-like protrusions, and issuing a spray of three rows of four flowers, on four curving stalks, 19.5cm wide x 3.5cm deep x 20.5cm high, (7 1/2in wide x 1in deep x 8in high)
Royal Badges at Hampton Court
This badge's only known counterparts decorate the underside of the hammerbeam roof in the Great Hall at Hampton Court. Helpfully, given the inaccessibility of the ceiling and its ornaments, 60ft above the ground, the roof was surveyed by A. W. Pugin in the 1820s and his longitudinal drawing, published in Specimens of Gothic Architecture of 1821-3, was accompanied by detailed drawings of the roof's ornamental badges, pendants and corbels, including a falcon.
Sitting alongside other royal symbols – a fleur-de-lys, a rose, a portcullis – the falcons (how many there were of each type of badge is not specified) Pugin found on the roof in the 1820s are identical to this boss in all but one feature. The knop at the top of the falcon's sceptre in Pugin's survey appeared to be shaped like a lozenge, with a flattened top point, its lower section with a pronounced taper, whilst here it is a ball shape, with a band at its centre, and gadrooned. In all other particulars – the arc of the falcon's beak, the curve of the stalks supporting the flowers, and the angle of the scroll or furl to the top of the fore-wing, for instance – the likeness is pronounced. Crucially, Pugin's drawings record the badge's height as 8in, and its width as 7 1/2in, precisely conforming to the dimensions of this badge.
The Great Hall roof was installed as part of the second phase of Henry VIII's rebuilding work at Hampton Court, which he had acquired on Thomas Wolsey's (c. 1473-1530) fall: he took responsibility for building works there in September 1529. Shortly afterwards, in 1530, Henry paid for repaving work and for the setting up of 'tablets containing the King's arms' in the Great Hall, overtly asserting his ownership of the palace [Thurley (1988), p. 10], but this 'upgrade' was totally overridden by the decision, probably taken at the end of 1531, to build an entirely new structure. The result was the last and greatest of the medieval halls to be built in England, a consciously anachronistic building, already superannuated at the time of its construction, but intended to convey the ancient authority of royalty in England. Indeed, the hammerbeam roof was outdated in 1532, at a time when stuccoed, boarded or coffered ceilings were being installed in fashionable buildings, and some of its elements are purely ornamental, serving no structural purpose [Thurley (2003), p. 51].
These elements, however, allowed for a greater surface area on which to apply ornamental and heraldic bosses, pendants and badges, and Henry took full advantage. Extensive accounts survive for this phase of work, and – unusually for this period – we know the names of some of the workmen responsible for decorating the roof. Thus, in 1533, the London carver Richard Rydge was paid for work on 'xvi pendants standyng under the hammer beam in the kynges new hall' [Thurley (1988), pp. 10-11]. Another carver, John Wright, is also mentioned in connection with the applied decoration, and it may be that he and Rydge 'designed and applied the embellishments themselves'. Records suggest that it was being painted in 1534 [ibid., p. 11] – the badges were painted brilliant colours and gilded – although carpenters working on the roof were issued candles to facilitate overtime in anticipation of a visit from Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn in December 1535 [ibid., pp. 57-8], so it is not clear when precisely the roof was finished.
However, given that the roof appears to have escaped the impulse to obliterate Anne's memory which followed her execution in May 1536, so that other badges bearing Anne's falcon survive there in situ, it is unlikely that this badge – albeit possibly carved by the same craftsman or men – was originally located on the roof of Hampton Court's Great Hall. It is possible, of course, that it was removed from the roof during one of several periods of restoration and repair (in 1834, 1855-6 and, most extensively, in the 1920s) – about half the ceiling of Wolsey's closet, for instance dates from 1961 – and not re-installed. It is more likely, however, on balance, that it was originally fixed elsewhere. Other rooms at Hampton Court (and in other palaces) were embellished with royal badges during Anne's lifetime, providing possible locations for the source of this badge. We know, for instance, that a slightly later phase of building which focused on the Queen's 'new lodgings' at Hampton Court entailed the creation of 'xxxv armes and badges of moulded work lyned with tymber in the roof of the chamber of presence or dining chamber' by German born Robert Shynck. He was a moulder, however, working in leather maché, moulding and pressing elements into shape, and so it is unlikely that this boss, being of oak, was part of that scheme. The example serves, however, to illustrate the fact that there must have been hundreds of royal badges in various parts of Hampton Court and in other royal palaces in the 1530s.
If originally from Hampton Court, the most likely place that this badge may have sat is the screen, fitted in the lower end of the Great Hall at around the same time as the rest of the woodwork in the room was installed. Indeed, we know that Rydge worked on both the screen and the roof, being paid '2s. 6d. the peece' for 'cutting and carving of 32 lintels, wrought with King's badges and the Queene's standing in the screens within the Kings new hall' [Law (188), p. 170]. Made by some of the same craftsmen, and part of the same phase of work for the same room, it is likely that the screen's badges would have complimented – matched, even – those of the roof. These lintels have now disappeared, and they and their badges seem to have been removed sometime before 1821, when the screen was drawn by Thomas Hardwick (1752-1829), then clerk of works at Hampton Court (http://collections.soane.org/THES100339).
Anne Boleyn (c. 1501 – May 1536), and her badge
This work at Hampton Court coincided with, and was probably a direct result of, the development of Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII's relationship, when their secret betrothal in the summer of 1527 [Ives (2004), p. 90] and the tortuous and complex years which followed, culminated in their equally secret marriage (because Anne was by that time pregnant with their daughter, Elizabeth) in January 1533.
The badge that Anne adopted – or was granted –on this occasion heralded the start of a new and fertile phase of the Tudor dynasty. The falcon crowned and holding a sceptre, alighting on a woodstock (stump) issuing roses was a potent one, laden with royal and religious significance. Roses were emblematic of fertility and, being both red and white, represented the union of the Lancastrian and Yorkist claims to the English throne by the marriage of Henry's parents, Henry VII (d. 1509) and Elizabeth or York (d. 1503). The tree-stump or woodstock was a centuries old royal badge. The crown is Imperial, not kingly, a deliberate allusion to Henry's recent claims – as part of the 'Break with Rome' – to imperial power and so to the rejection of papal authority.
Albeit the falcon badge, in a simpler form devoid of royal regalia, is often referred to as the 'Boleyn falcon', it is not known to have been used by her immediate family before January 1533. Received understanding labels Anne 'low-born' but she was, as a recent biographer has pointed out, the most aristocratic of Henry's three English queens. Her mother was the daughter of Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk and Surrey (d. 1524) and her father's mother was daughter and co-heir of Thomas Butler, earl of Ormonde (d. 1515). It was from the Butler earls of Ormonde that the falcon badge ultimately derived, a title only officially acquired by Anne's father – after a legal wrangle of fourteen years – in December 1529. Surviving evidence suggests that the first official use of this badge in connection with Anne was in the letters patent [British Library MS Harleian M303] confirming her elevation to the peerage as Marquis of Pembroke in her own right (September 1532), which were in fact drawn up and issued after the marriage ceremony in January 1533 [ibid., pp. 220-1 and p. 398].
Her association with the falcon was quickly established and, on the first day of her coronation celebrations on 29 May 1533, her white falcon appeared 'on a wherry' on the river, 'surrounded by virgins singing and playing sweetly'. Famously, the mechanical device which she encountered on her route through London comprised a stump which opened to pour out a mass of red and white roses, and a white falcon stooped to settle on the flowers. To complete the tableau, an angel descended from clouds and placed an imperial crown on the falcon's head.
We know of some objects from her lifetime that featured her falcon. An inventory of 1550, for instance, records that three gold spoons – one topped by a crowned falcon – and a laver with 'a falcon in the top', survived amongst the royal plate [Ives (2004), p. 232-3], and a cup at John the Baptist's Church at Cirencester, known as the Boleyn Cup, is topped by a falcon knop.
The true number of objects bearing her emblem is entirely obscured by the deliberate obliteration of any memory of her after she was executed in May 1536. For, just as Henry replaced Wolsey's badges at Hampton Court with his own in 1529, and just as Anne removed references to Katherine of Aragon (she employed glaziers to replace window glass in her Hampton Court lodgings in June 1529) so too were visual reminders of Anne eradicated from royal palaces. Thus, an enormous bill for painting of August/September 1536, just three to four months after Anne's execution, suggests a whole-sale re-decoration of Hampton Court's interiors, some of which took place in the hall and the queen's lodgings which were, in fact, extensively re-modelled. The King's Beasts carved by Henry Corant and Richard Rydge in 1535/6, were modified, and Anne's leopard (her secondary badge) was converted into Jane Seymour's panther [Thurley (2003), p. 60]. Substantial alteration of the interiors of the royal lodgings is also thought to have taken place in 1543, when apartments were prepared for Princess Mary and Katherine Parr.
The badges, ciphers and arms on the roof of the Great Hall are, because of this destructive impulse, a rare survival, a circumstance compounded by the fact that this badge - a royal one - was relevant during a relatively short period of only three years and five months. Reminders of her, however, survive elsewhere in situ, for instance, in ciphers on the screen in the chapel of King's College, Cambridge, and in the Gatehouse at St. James' largely, it is felt, because such important, beautiful (and occasionally inaccessible) structures were too important to deface. It is, perhaps, significant that it is her badge – rather than the badges of any of her successors as queen – which are associated with the most celebrated buildings and interiors of the Henrician period.
Poignantly, her badge was revived by her daughter, Elizabeth I. In no position to publicly commemorate her disgraced mother until her own accession to the throne in November 1558, the emblem is found in some of her books, and decorates the virginals in the Victoria & Albert Museum (Museum Number 19-1887), traditionally said to be Elizabeth's, made as late as 1594, and thus commemorating Anne almost sixty years after her death.
Select Literature:
E. Ives, The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn (2004); S. Thurley, 'Henry VIII and the Building of Hampton Court: A Reconstruction of the Tudor Palace', in Architectural History, Vol. 31 (1998), 1 – 57; S. Thurley, Hampton Court: A Social and Architectural History (2003); Liam E. Semler, The Early Modern Grotesque: English Sources and Documents 1500-1700 (2019); E. Law, The History of Hampton Court Palace in Tudor Times (1885)
A significant and rare Henry VIII carved oak mount of Anne Boleyn’s royal badge. Possibly by Richard Rydge.
Hammerbeam roof in the Great Hall at Hampton Court
My first book is now being advertised by publisher MadeGlobal.
This lovely bust (see below) at Hever Castle is not actually the young Anne Boleyn as I’ve often thought. So I rang Hever Castle and spoke to one of the conservators there. She was very helpful and explained that the bust is possibly Eleanor of Aragon, and the original in the Louvre, Paris, was made by Francesco Laurana in the 15th century. It was once thought to be Margaret of Austria, but Eleanor is the latest attribution. Several other attributions have been made, but this seems the most likely. This copy of the bust, probably late 16th/17th century, was bought by Lord Astor in 1905 from his agent in Paris, who used to scour France and Italy for interesting pieces for Astor. What a dream job to have!
Francesco Laurana, original name Francesco de la Vrana, (born c. 1430, Vrana, Dalmatia, Republic of Venice (now in Croatia) died before March 12, 1502, Avignon, France. An early Italian Renaissance sculptor and medalist, he was especially distinguished for his severely elegant portrait busts of women and as an early disseminator of the Renaissance style in France.
Laurana’s early career is obscure, the first notice of him, in 1453, being when he was paid by Alfonso V of Aragon for work on the triumphal arch of the Castel Nuovo in Naples. Between 1461 and 1466 he was at the court of René, duc d’Anjou, rival claimant to the throne of Naples. By 1468, however, Laurana was in Sicily, and he seems to have spent the remainder of his life there, at Naples, and in the south of France.
If you are wondering why I have used the falcon emblem in my book titles, please check out Bonhams the auctioneer’s website. A rare Henry VIII carved oak mount, c1533-6, of Anne Boleyn's (c.1501-36) royal badge, possibly by Richard Rydge has come up for sale. What a fantastic piece but will it reach it’s £80,000 estimate? See the full article on Bonham’s website….
You just never know what nuggets of information you might discover when trawling through archives. I believe Hilary Mantel found the title for her book ‘Bring Up the Bodies’ in the Calendar of State Papers, Foreign and Domestic. I recall reading the entry and thinking ‘aha, that phrase sounds familiar!’ Apparently, in a trial, the clerk of the court would call for the accused to be brought up for sentencing. A pretty chilling phrase to hear cried out if you were George Boleyn or the men accused with him during Anne Boleyn’s downfall. Great title for a book though!
As a museum curator, research has always been a large part of my working day, and over the years I have spent many hours poring over documents, (white protective gloves on of course!) sitting in archives and reading rooms researching everything from chamber pots and children’s toys, to military uniform and medals. However, I was once advised by a very sage curator at the V&A museum that I must be very, very cautious of what I might read. To remember the George Gershwin song from the ‘Porgy and Bess’ opera – ‘It Ain’t Necessarily So’. And those words have always stuck with me. I must look at everything from all sides and then make a judgement, since the writer often had an agenda depending on who they were writing for!
When it came to writing my novel, I wanted to make my book as factual as possible as I love to learn and I think others do too. The more accurate the research, the more believable and enjoyable the book.
When I first began to delve into the lives of the Tudors, over thirty years ago, I already had an extensive library of books. Of course, when I started this novel, it was an excuse to buy more, and I would spend hours scouring book sites, spending a fortune over the years. I bought everything that might give me an insight into the times. This was the fun part, the searching for new material. Shall I buy this? Yes, one-click – done! Every day a new book or pamphlet plopped through the door, and it was like Christmas. Of course, books were only a starting point. Archives proved invaluable and in my next blog I’ll tell you what I discovered...
