HistoryExtra https://www.historyextra.com/people/catherine-of-aragon Mon, 09 Mar 2026 15:31:03 GMT en hourly 1 What was the most important year in history? We asked 9 experts – and this is what they said https://www.historyextra.com/membership/what-was-the-most-important-year-in-history-we-asked-9-experts-and-this-is-what-they-said/ Mon, 09 Mar 2026 15:30:15 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/membership/what-was-the-most-important-year-in-history-we-asked-9-experts-and-this-is-what-they-said/ Our crack team of historians, broadcasters and authors offer their takes on a conundrum that continues to divide opinions AD 1000
Norse power: when worlds collide
This moment is surely imbued with the most global symbolism. It was when, according to the Old Norse-Icelandic sagas, adventurers sailed across the north Atlantic from settlements on the west coast of Greenland to the edge of the North American continent. There they met inhabitants of coastal regions of what’s now Canada: ancestors of peoples such as the Beothuk and Algonquin. The circle of humanity was closed for the first time in recorded history.
In the 1960s, archaeologists found a Norse overwintering site at L’Anse aux Meadows, at the northern tip of Newfoundland. This backed up what the sagas had already described: a series of voyages west from Greenland, the discovery of new lands and resources, and increasingly violent encounters with the people they called Skrælingar – an unpleasant name meaning ‘wretched ones’. These cross-cultural encounters began promisingly enough, with red cloth and dairy products traded for animal pelts. Eventually, though, relations disintegrated into distrust, violence and murder – an uneasy foreshadowing of what would follow centuries later.
This is, of course, a moment of retrospective significance. Those voyagers didn’t realise that they had reached an entirely new continent. Their expeditions did not make big news around the world. For me, that makes this moment in history even more interesting. Because when we’re being carried along by the churning currents of time, it’s not always possible to tell which events and dates will mean the most to those looking back.
Eleanor Barraclough, historian, broadcaster and author of Embers of the Hands: Hidden Histories of the Viking Age (Profile, 2024)
1066
Conquest, castles, class shifts and chivalry
For British history, at least, the answer is 1066. This might seem surprising to people who remember only the battle of Hastings, the death of King Harold and the accession of William the Conqueror, but the regime change that followed the Norman takeover went far beyond just a new royal dynasty. As Domesday Book shows, by 1086 the old ruling class of Anglo-Saxon England had been replaced almost entirely, and more than 90 per cent of the land was now held by continental newcomers.
This had an immediate effect on the country’s physical appearance. Castles, which had hardly existed in England at all before 1066, were constructed in their hundreds. Cathedrals and abbeys were ripped down and rebuilt in a new Romanesque style. Notoriously, the north was brutally harried into submission and turned into a desert. Less perceptibly, but even more importantly in the long run, the Conquest also introduced new ideas about how society should be regulated. Slavery, which had been commonplace among the Anglo-Saxons, disappeared over the next half-century. The custom of sparing the life of a defeated opponent became the new norm among the ruling elite.
The rapid adoption of these new attitudes by the English set them apart from their insular neighbours, who continued to slaughter their enemies and practise war as slave-hunt. The novel perception of the Welsh, Scots and Irish as uncivilised barbarians was a direct result of the Norman conquest, and fuelled the aggressive English colonisation of those countries in the centuries that followed.
Marc Morris, medieval historian, writer and broadcaster
1945
World war, international aftermath
At a global scale, the Second World War was the most momentous period in history. So it follows that the year of its conclusion – 1945 – was the most important year.
The list of transformations that took place because of that war is truly astonishing. There were massive advances in computer technology, radio technology, plastics research, jet planes, rocket science and the production of antibiotics. Nuclear power quite literally exploded into our consciousness in 1945. Super Glue was discovered during the war, as was the technology behind microwave ovens. And it was the final victory in 1945 that allowed such innovations to be released from the secrecy of wartime and into the wider world.
Alongside new technologies came huge social and geopolitical changes. It was in 1945 that today’s map of Europe was drawn during the Yalta and Potsdam conferences. At the same time, the communist takeover of eastern Europe began. This was the year when the nations of Asia and Africa, inspired by wartime rhetoric, began their final push towards decolonisation. The international order was reborn with the establishment of the United Nations that summer, and a whole network of affiliated organisations followed. The list goes on.
The Second World War cast a shadow on the world so long that it still affects us to this day. The memory of 1945, and of all that it represents, is preserved in our culture of storytelling, movie-making and novel writing, and we still commemorate it annually. No other single year in history has ever held such power over us – nor is ever likely to do so again.
Keith Lowe, author of The Fear and the Freedom: How the Second World War Changed Us (Viking, 2017)
31 BC
Actium: turning the tide of Roman history
At noon on 2 September 31 BC, Marcus Agrippa stood aboard his flagship and gazed towards the Greek promontory of Actium. Some 60 of his enemy’s warships were speeding over the Ionian waves in the direction of the 400 vessels led by him and Octavian, who was watching from an advantageous point on land. Those approaching were part of the fleet of 230 led by Mark Antony, Octavian’s former Roman ally, and Cleopatra, queen of Egypt.
As they reached the melee, Cleopatra’s ships sailed straight into the middle of the battle line – and for a moment it seemed as if the tide might turn. Instead, they surged straight through and into the open sea: Cleopatra was escaping. Panicked, Mark Antony abandoned his flagship and followed her with several smaller vessels, leaving their remaining fleet to face the onslaught alone. Surrender followed.
At the time of the battle, the Roman empire was divided between Octavian in the west and Mark Antony in the east. With the suicides of Cleopatra and Mark Antony in 30 BC following their defeat at Actium, Octavian became sole ruler of Rome and conqueror of Egypt. Three years later, the Roman senate conferred on Octavian the title Augustus, officially marking the end of the Republic and the start of the Roman empire.
Had Antony prevailed, Rome’s centre might have shifted eastwards. Alexandria might have become a second capital, Rome’s ambitions would likely have turned towards Mesopotamia and Persia rather than Germania and Britannia, and today Europe might instead have a Greek rather than Latin language base.
Jess Venner, ancient historian, presenter and author
1453
Bye bye Byzantines, all hail the Ottomans
It is, of course, an impossible task to select one specific year. Momentous happenings do occur, but they’re made possible by structural changes – political, economic, cultural – over many decades or even centuries. Having said that, I’d pick 1453. That was the year in which the Hundred Years’ War ended – but also, even more significantly, when Constantinople fell to the Ottoman Turks. That marked the end of the Byzantine empire – the last remnant of the Roman realm – which had lasted for more than 1,000 years.
The city became the capital of the growing Ottoman empire, which endured until 1922 as a major global power. The religious make-up of the region changed dramatically, though it remained a melting pot of peoples of different cultures and faiths. The fall of Constantinople led to an influx of Greek scholars to Europe, who brought deep learning and fresh ideas that added extra stimulus to the Renaissance.
It also represented a tectonic shift in global geopolitics, changing the balance of power in the Middle East and radically reconfiguring trade routes between Europe and Asia. Some argue that growing complications involved in trading along overland routes through Eurasia stimulated European Atlantic exploration. It also contributed to a reconfiguration of the medieval slave trade. As it became harder for European traders to traffic people via the Black Sea, they turned increasingly to the coast of west Africa – fuelling the growth of one of the most appalling and tragic phenomena in human history.
Hannah Skoda, associate professor of medieval history at the University of Oxford
1533
The wedding that reshaped England’s religious, social and political life
It’s for good reason that the dawn of the Tudor era has widely been considered to mark the end of the Middle Ages and the beginning of the Early Modern age. The 118 years when this celebrated dynasty occupied the throne witnessed unprecedented change in every aspect of English life. And no single year was more transformative than 1533.
In 1527, Henry VIII had first petitioned the pope for an annulment from wife number one, Catherine of Aragon. He was driven by his all-consuming desire for a son and his obsession with Anne Boleyn, a woman of his wife’s household who had told him that if he wanted her, he’d have to put a ring on it.
Henry eventually took matters into his own hands by breaking with Rome and setting up a new Church of England, with himself as the supreme head. On 25 January 1533, he married Anne Boleyn. In May, his marriage to Catherine of Aragon was formally annulled and Anne was confirmed as his legitimate queen by the archbishop of Canterbury. She was crowned at Westminster Abbey on 1 June, by which time she was visibly pregnant. On 7 September, the new queen gave birth – not to the hoped-for son but to a daughter, the future Elizabeth I.
This proved to be the beginning of the end for Anne. But her marriage to Henry had sparked a seismic shift in England’s religious, political and social life that would reverberate down the centuries. It also produced a monarch who ruled for longer than any of her Tudor predecessors and blazed a trail for future queens regnant.
Tracy Borman, author, historian and broadcaster
1858
Dawn of the Information Age
On 16 August 1858, Queen Victoria sent a message to US president James Buchanan. Ordinarily, it would have taken about 10 days for such a communication to cross the Atlantic by ship – but this one arrived in only 16 hours. It was sent to mark the connection of the first transatlantic telegraph cable – a direct line between the Old World and the New.
Shorter connections had already been completed between Britain and mainland Europe, including a cross-channel line in 1850, but the Atlantic presented a tougher challenge. For years, engineers including Samuel Morse had debated whether it was possible to lay 2,500 miles of cable beneath the ocean. The first attempt in 1857 failed when the line snapped. But now, at last, it was done. Some commentators hailed it as the Eighth Wonder of the World. An excited newspaper in Boston announced simply: “THERE IS NO MORE SEA!”
This first transatlantic cable failed after only three weeks, and it wasn’t until 1866 that a permanent line was established. But a precedent had been set: it would now be possible to connect every corner of world in an ever more extensive network of telegraph cables, eventually allowing huge volumes of information to pulse around the globe at previously unimaginable speeds.
It was many years later before this vision was fully realised, but in 1858 we see the beginning of the new Information Age – a recognisably modern moment that culminated in the arrival of the internet.
Bob Nicholson, writer, broadcaster and historian at Edge Hill University
1917
When revolution reshaped alliances, identities and ambitions
In this pivotal year, Russia stopped fighting in the First World War and the US entered it. Neither country ranked much as a world power at the time, but wartime actions sparked global transformations. President Woodrow Wilson’s championing of international cooperation and American-style democracy (universal in rhetoric but deeply racialised in practice) signalled US ambitions for the world stage.
But the big story was Russia: its economy shattered by the war, its people toppled the tsar in March (February in the Julian calendar then in use), setting the stage for the Bolsheviks to seize power in November (Julian: October). The Russian Revolution – the most important event of the 20th century – was complete by the end of 1917, and the Soviet Union was secured by 1922.
Neither the civil rights movement nor decolonial struggles would have unfolded as they did without the Soviet Union, whether as foil or ally. In the US, for example, communist organising and Soviet propaganda forced segregationists to either justify or modify their system of racial division. In the world subject to European empire, Soviet communism offered intellectual and material resources to anticolonial nationalists.
Cold War historians tend to focus on the ascendant US and its Soviet nemesis duking it out for global hegemony via conflicts in Latin America, Africa and Asia. More salient are the ways in which the revolutionary model and the revolutionary challenge pushed communities, groups and nations to articulate who they were and who they wished to be. The Russian Revolution helped remake the world – and we live out its legacy.
Adriane Lentz-Smith, associate professor of history at Duke University
490 BC
Marathon: a victory for democracy
Six decades after Cyrus the Great had founded the Achaemenid empire, the Persian forces of King Darius I – also ‘the Great’ – were pushing west to conquer all of Greece. Their primary aim was to lay waste to Athens, which had had the temerity to support a revolt against the empire that by then controlled swathes of the region. But they hadn’t banked on the determination and tactical nous of their opponents.
By September 490 BC, the Persian fleet had landed on the coast of Attica about 17 miles north-east of Athens, its troops disembarking onto the plain of Marathon. Around 10,000 Athenian men mustered in the surrounding hills, joined by 1,000 from Plataea – but were still vastly outnumbered.
On learning that the Persian cavalry was absent, Greek warriors led by Athenian general Miltiades swept down on the enemy. Against the odds, the Persian troops were routed – reputedly at the cost of only 192 Athenian dead. This was a critical moment in ancient history: it gave confidence to the Greeks that they could stand up to the mighty Persian empire and, thanks to their part in the victory, the Athenians emerged as the most important polis in Greece. It also provided momentum for Athens’ emerging democracy.
In the mid-19th century, English philosopher John Stuart Mill claimed that “as an event in English history, the battle of Marathon was more important than the battle of Hastings” because Greek (and, particularly, Athenian) victory in that clash was so linked to the development of democracy.
Michael Scott, professor in classics and ancient history at the University of Warwick
This article was first published in the February 2026 issue of HistoryExtra Magazine
]]> Porpoise for breakfast and late night sex visits: Henry VIII's life in a day https://www.historyextra.com/membership/porpoise-for-breakfast-and-late-night-sex-visits-henry-viiis-life-in-a-day/ Fri, 05 Dec 2025 17:00:37 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/membership/porpoise-for-breakfast-and-late-night-sex-visits-henry-viiis-life-in-a-day/ Ever wondered what Tudor England’s most famous monarch ate for breakfast? (Or whether breakfast was even a thing?) Tracy Borman examines Henry VIII’s daily routine – and sexual proclivities – during the year that he married Anne Boleyn The year 1533 was a big one for Henry VIII. It began with his secret marriage to Anne Boleyn, followed a few months later by the annulment of his first marriage to Catherine of Aragon. The new queen was crowned in June, then in September she gave birth to the future Elizabeth I, rather than the hoped-for male heir. And as if that wasn’t enough, the Reformation parliament passed radical religious legislation that would separate the country from Rome and make Henry supreme head of the new Church of England.
Amidst these seismic events, however, Henry’s daily life continued much as it had done during the previous 24 years of his reign. The Tudor court ran according to a strict routine, and nothing – not even the pope in Rome – could disrupt it.
In the early years of his reign, when Henry was at the peak of his youthful vigour, he would rise at the crack of dawn and go hunting for several hours – sometimes until dusk. The courtier and diplomat Richard Pace reported to Cardinal Wolsey that, during the summer, the “King rises daily, except on holy days, at 4 or 5 o’clock and hunts till 9 or 10 at night”. Henry would get up later in the colder months, typically at around eight o’clock.
But those carefree days had diminished by 1533. The king was paying much closer attention to affairs of state and was no longer living “in continuous festival”, as his first wife had put it in the early days of their marriage. Nevertheless, Henry still spent a decent amount of each day indulging in physical pursuits. Now in his early forties, he was almost as full of energy as he had been in his youth.
An “improbably large codpiece”
To get Henry ready for whatever the day held, his privy chamber staff had to rise even earlier than he did. Having cleaned the king’s chambers, the grooms would wake the esquires of the body, who slept in the ‘pallet chamber’ next door to the royal bedchamber. The esquires would enter their royal master’s bedchamber to “array him and dress him in his [under]clothes”, which were strewn with fresh herbs to keep them sweet-smelling.
Having been “loosely dressed” by his esquires, Henry would step into the privy chamber so that his six gentlemen could complete the ceremony of robing with whichever garments he had chosen for that day. Henry loved to show off his physique – as well as his riches – in the quality and quantity of the cloth from which his garments were fashioned. His broad shoulders were emphasised by padded and embroidered sleeves, the curve of his calf muscles was shown off to best effect by white silk hose, and his improbably large codpiece symbolised his masculinity and power. Clearly, he pulled it off. The Venetian ambassador, Sebastiano Guistinian, described Henry as “the best dressed sovereign in the world”.
Hair, ear wax and urine
When the king was dressed for the day, his barber would begin shaving his royal master and dressing his hair. He had to be a man of infinite trustworthiness: after all, he would be holding sharp blades to the king’s throat! During the early years of his reign, Henry was clean-shaven, as Catherine of Aragon preferred. But what she liked mattered less by 1533, when he sported a fine beard, which the barber would ensure was neatly trimmed.
- Read more | The swordplay’s the thing: Henry VIII's Masters of Defence and the thrilling world of 16th-century fencing
Luxury pervaded the business of hairdressing and shaving, as it did every other element of Henry’s daily routine. Inventories of his possessions list silver basins for shaving and facecloths trimmed with black silk, as well as a comb of “gold garnished with… stones and pearl”, a toothpick case of gold, and an “ear pick of silver”. Among the many gifts that the king had showered Anne Boleyn with during their courtship was a gold ear wax scoop. Who says romance is dead?
Next up, Henry would be examined by one of his team of physicians. They came armed with bladder-shaped flasks for inspecting the king’s urine and would also examine his stools. In submitting himself to the frequent attentions of his medics, the king was following royal protocol – after all, a sovereign’s health was of the utmost importance to the state. But Henry had always been prone to hypochondria and would be thrown into a panic at any sign of illness at court. The French ambassador described him as “the most timid person in such matters you could meet”.
Mrs Cornwallis’s sweet treats
Having been washed, groomed, dressed and examined, the king was at last ready to go out into the court. The first meal of the day was generally served at around 10.30 or 11 o’clock, although sometimes it was as late as midday (breakfast was not a thing until the reign of Henry’s daughter Elizabeth). This was known as ‘dinner’ and was substantial enough to maintain the king and his courtiers until late afternoon. It comprised an array of different meats, such as boar, pork, lamb and venison, as well as game birds like pheasant and rabbit, swan and more unusual fare like conger eel and porpoise. The king had a sweet tooth, too, and regularly gorged on custards, fritters, tarts, jelly, cream of almonds and quince marmalade. His favourite confectioner was a woman named Mrs Cornwallis, whom he rewarded with a fine house close to the Tower of London.
In contrast to the popular image of Henry seated at the top table of a great feast, devouring endless chicken legs and throwing the bones over his shoulder, he was a very fastidious eater and preferred to take his meals in private. He didn’t like to linger over his meals, either, because he was impatient to get on with his day.
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Hunting, archery, bowling and tennis took up several hours. Sir William Kingston, who was a regular at Henry’s court (and was later Anne Boleyn’s gaoler at the Tower), observed that even after more than 20 years on the throne: “The king hawks every day with goshawks and others… both before noon and after.” Having practised these sporting pursuits from childhood, Henry was highly skilled, particularly at tennis. The Venetian ambassador enthused: “It is the prettiest thing in the world to see him play.”
“Tedious and painful”
The distinction between work and play was blurred during Henry’s reign. He would discuss politics with ambassadors and ministers while enjoying a game of bowls or practising archery, and would hold more private audiences with his advisors while being dressed or undressed, taking his meals or bathing.
The privy council was the beating heart of Henry’s government and would meet almost every day at around noon. By 1533, Henry was attending those meetings much more frequently than during the carefree early years of his reign. They would discuss all the most pressing matters of the day – of which there was no shortage in the year that the king rid himself of one wife, took another and separated England from Roman Catholic Europe. Thomas Cromwell was the most influential member of the privy council and worked closely with Henry, often holding private meetings with the king.
Supper was served between three and four o’clock each afternoon and would typically comprise soups, pottage, roasted meats, tarts, custards, fruits, nuts and cheeses. If Henry was peckish in the evening, his cooks would prepare a snack known as a ‘rear night’ or ‘all night’, which was usually served between eight and nine o’clock.
Henry was renowned for his piety and spent a significant part of every day in worship. One ambassador reported: “He hears three masses daily when he hunts and sometimes five on other days.” This had been encouraged by his first wife, a devout Roman Catholic. By contrast, Anne Boleyn was a reformer and introduced Henry to radical religious texts that encouraged him to break from obedience to Rome. Although he admitted to finding writing “tedious and painful”, the king was a voracious reader, and his private library was filled with classical and theological texts from across the world.
Long trips to the loo
Every so often, the king would take a bath in his private apartments. But the leading physicians of the age cautioned against regular bathing in hot water because it opened the pores and allowed deadly diseases such as the plague, sweating sickness and smallpox to enter the body. Instead, cold water was used for washing the king’s hands and face first thing in the morning and before and after every meal. Even if Henry’s baths were infrequent, they were predictably luxurious. At the palaces of Richmond and Whitehall, Henry had steam baths installed, fragments of which are still preserved at Hampton Court.
Henry had his own private close stool (a type of portable toilet) in each palace. His ‘stool chambers’ at Greenwich and Hampton Court were kitted out with pictures and bookshelves to keep the king amused during the long hours that he spent there. His close stools were covered in embroidered velvet, stuffed with swan’s-down and studded with gilt nails.
To emphasise his magnificence, Henry staged lavish evening entertainments at court. His Master of the Revels devised plays, pageants and musical interludes to be performed in front of the king and his guests. Some of the more ambitious set-pieces involved mock battles and the famous ‘Château Vert’ pageant of 1522, when a certain young lady called Anne Boleyn made her first appearance at Henry’s court. As well as being an accomplished musician, Henry loved to show off on the dance floor. He “exercised himself daily in dancing” and “does wonders and leaps like a stag”, reported an astonished onlooker.
Most evenings, the king and his courtiers would indulge in gambling. Huge sums would be won and lost at cards, dice and board games. Between the years 1529 and 1532, Henry squandered a staggering £3,243 (equivalent to £2.36 million today). But there was always a jester or ‘fool’ on hand to cheer the king after his losses. Henry’s favourite fool was Will Somer, who entered his service in 1525 and kept the king entertained for the next 20 years. It was said that “in all the court few men were more beloved than was this fool”.
Henry’s bedroom antics
The king rarely retired before midnight, “which is our accustomed hour at court to go to bed”. An elaborate ceremony of disrobing began as soon as he stepped into the bedchamber. His gentlemen and esquires of the body would carefully untie, unbuckle and remove every item of clothing and then put on his nightgown. Another attendant would bring a basin of water and a cloth so that he could wash his face and clean his teeth. The king’s body servants would then comb his hair and cover it with a ‘night-bonnet’ of scarlet or black embroidered velvet before helping him into bed and lighting a candle next to it. Their work complete, all but one of the privy chamber attendants bowed low and backed out of the room, leaving their royal master to his rest.
Every detail of this protracted routine would be observed each night without fail. It only differed when Henry chose to visit his wife. On such occasions, he would summon his grooms of the chamber, who would dress him in his nightrobe and escort him with lighted torches to the door of the queen’s bedchamber. The king would rarely spend the night there, though, and would return to his own bedchamber once his, erm, ‘business’ there had been concluded.
But given that Anne Boleyn was almost certainly pregnant at the time she married Henry in January 1533, these conjugal visits would have been rare or non-existent until she gave birth in September. The wisdom of the day dictated that sex during pregnancy was harmful to the unborn child, so instead Henry found comfort with other women.
This caused the first serious rift between the newlyweds in August 1533, when Anne was about to enter her ‘confinement’ – the month-long period when a royal wife would live in complete seclusion to await the birth of her child. “The king’s affection for her [Anne] is less than it was”, reported the Imperial ambassador Eustace Chapuys. “He now shows himself in love with another lady, and many nobles are assisting him in the affair.” When she heard of this, Anne was “very jealous” and confronted her royal husband. To her dismay, rather than offering placatory assurances, he spat back that she must “shut her eyes and endure” as more “worthy” persons had done. Henry’s affection for his new wife took another nose-dive when she gave birth to a daughter (the future Elizabeth I) on 7 September, rather than the hoped-for son.
Adultery, treason and execution
As the year 1533 drew to a close, the court moved to Greenwich for the Christmas celebrations. “The King’s Grace kept great court, as merry and lusty as ever”, one guest observed. There was a good reason for Henry to be cheerful: Anne Boleyn was pregnant once more. Her New Year gift to the king was an exquisite table fountain of gold, studded with rubies, diamonds and pearls. Designed by Hans Holbein, it featured three naked women standing at the foot of a fountain, water issuing forth from their nipples – a clear allusion to her impending motherhood.
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Sadly, the queen lost the child a few months later and miscarried twice more in the two years that followed. The king, who in the early days of their courtship had been so enraptured that he had overturned his entire kingdom in order to marry Anne, now “shrank from her”. In May 1536, Anne was condemned on trumped-up charges of adultery, incest and treason and executed.
Earlier that year, Henry had suffered a serious accident whilst jousting, which brought the physical activities that had filled so many of his days at court to an abrupt end. Plagued by pain and humiliated by his expanding girth, this most famous of kings became the bloated tyrant of legend.
]]> Historical anniversaries | June https://www.historyextra.com/on-this-day/this-month-in-history-historical-anniversaries-june/ Sun, 01 Jun 2025 05:00:00 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/on-this-day/this-month-in-history-historical-anniversaries-june/ What historical anniversaries are in June? We round up the events, births and deaths… 1 June
1670: Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans, brokers the Secret Treaty of Dover
Under the terms of the deal that Henrietta arranged at Dover, her rich brother-in-law, Louis XIV, would pay Charles II, her brother, £230,000 a year, while Charles would send 60 ships and 4,000 infantry to help the French in their war against the Dutch.
Then came an even more shocking detail. Charles, who had long been a Catholic sympathiser but had kept it secret so as not to alienate his Protestant subjects, promised to come out as a Catholic convert. In return, France would pay him an extra £160,000 and intervene if his people rebelled against him.
2 June
1962: The ‘battle of Santiago’
Chile beat Italy 2–0 in an ill-tempered World Cup group match, which saw numerous fights, police intervention and two Italian players sent off. The British referee, Ken Aston, is said to have later observed: “I wasn’t reffing a football match. I was acting as an umpire in military manoeuvres.”
- On the podcast | World Cup history: everything you wanted to know
3 June
1937: Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson marry
Six months after Edward VIII had abdicated the British throne in order to marry the woman he loved, he was united, once and for all, with Wallis Simpson. The venue was the Chateau de Candé, near Tours, which was owned by the half-American millionaire Charles Bedaux.
4 June
1989: Hundreds die in Tiananmen Square
In the early hours of 4 June, the army cleared the square by force. Government officials initially claimed the action resulted in no deaths – later revised to about 200; other estimates suggest that as many as 1,000 people lost their lives. Either way, the result was the same: the protesters had been defeated.
5 June
1832: Angry Parisians man the barricades in a two-day uprising against the Orleanist king Louis-Philippe
The June Rebellion was triggered by the food shortages of the late 1820s, a devastating cholera epidemic and the death of the popular general Jean Lamarque, who had become a hero to the working classes of Paris. At his funeral on 5 June, republican demonstrators rallied the crowds, waving red flags and calling for “liberty or death”. The mood turned ugly, and by the evening rioters had taken control of much of central and eastern Paris, throwing up barricades.
6 June
1513: The Swiss defeats the French at the battle of Novara in Northern Italy
This forced Louis XII of France to abandon his attempt to control Milan.
Famous births in June
7 June 1811
James Young Simpson, Scottish doctor who discovered the anaesthetic qualities of chloroform
8 June 1810
Robert Schumann, German Romantic compose
9 June 1812
Johann Gottfried Galle, German astronomer
10 June 1913
Edward Penley Abraham, English biochemist
11 June 1832
Lucy Holcombe Pickens, socialite and archetypal ‘Southern Belle’
13 June 1831
James Clerk Maxwell, physicist and mathematician
13 June 1910
Mary Whitehouse, campaigner against what she saw as declining moral standards on TV and radio and founder of the National Viewers and Listeners Association
14 June 1811
Harriet Beecher Stowe, abolitionist and writer
15 June 1330
Edward the Black Prince, the eldest son of King Edward III and Philippa of Hainault
15 June 1843
Edvard Hagerup Grieg, composer and pianist
18 June 1511
Bartolomeo Ammannati, architect and sculptor
19 June 1623
Blaise Pascal, scientist, mathematician and philosopher
20 June 1763
Theobald Wolfe Tone, Irish nationalist and political writer
20 June 1912
Anthony Malcolm Buckeridge, children’s author
23 June 1763
Marie Josèphe Rose Tascher de La Pagerie, wife of Napoleon Bonaparte
23 June 1910
Jean Anouilh, French dramatist
24 June 1850
Herbert Kitchener, British soldier
25 June 1799
David Douglas, Scottish traveller and botanist
27 June 1462
Future Louis XII of France
27 June 1880
Helen Keller, author, political activist, lecturer, and the first deaf-blind person to be awarded a bachelor of arts degree
28 June 1712
Jean-Jacques Rousseau, philosopher and composer
29 June 1911
Bernard Herrmann, composer and frequent collaborator with film director Alfred Hitchcock
7 June
1512: The Marquess of Dorset lands in Spain with 10,000 men to join Ferdinand of Aragon in an attack on France
In fact, Ferdinand was more interested in securing Navarre, and the expedition achieved nothing.
8 June
1929: Margaret Bondfield becomes Britain’s first female cabinet minister
Former shop worker Margaret Bondfield is appointed minister of labour in Ramsay MacDonald’s new government.
9 June
1865: Charles Dickens survives a deadly train crash
At 3.13pm, as Dickens’ train sped across a viaduct at Staplehurst, it hit a missing section of the track, which had been removed by workmen. The train was thrown into the air, plunging seven carriages into the quagmire below. Dickens’s carriage was dragged partially off the bridge.
- Read more | The history of railways in Britain
Luckily, the author was able to clamber free. He then rushed to the carcass of the crushed train to offer his help. He must have been greeted by a shocking scene: 10 passengers had died in the crash and 40 more were injured.
10 June
1190: One of medieval Europe’s most powerful crusaders, Barbarossa, drowns, leaving his army in disarray
On 10 June, Frederick Barbarossa’s army was just outside Silifke, in southern Turkey, and attempting to cross the river Saleph, when something went terribly wrong. Medieval chroniclers told different stories: some said the emperor had decided to go for a dip to cool off on a sweltering day, but others said that he had been leading his troops across the ford when his horse slipped and threw him into the cold water. Some claimed that Barbarossa drowned, others that he died from a heart attack brought on by the shock.
11 June
323 BC: Alexander the Great dies
Accounts of Alexander’s death differ widely. The most popular, told by the historian Plutarch, holds that he was taken ill after a drinking session with his friend Medius of Larissa. In the next few days, Alexander developed a fever. Although he managed to put in an appearance before his worried troops, his condition worsened until he could no longer speak. At last, some time in the night between 10 and 11 June, he died.
- Read more about the death of Alexander the Great
12 June
1942: Anne Frank is given a diary by her parents
Anne had seen the red-and-white autograph book in a shop a few days earlier and had pointed it out to her father. Like so many teenagers, she loved the thought of having a diary. “I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in anyone,” she wrote in her very first entry, “and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support.”
So it proved. A month later, Anne’s family, who were Jewish, went into hiding. She kept up her diary until August 1944, when the family were arrested by the Nazis and sent to the camps. The following spring, she died of typhus in Bergen-Belsen.
13 June
1917: German bombs smash into a Poplar school
When the German bomber appeared overhead, there was no time to react. The bomb punched through the roof, killing a 13-year-old girl. It ploughed through the floor to the next level, mortally wounding a 12-year-old boy. Finally, it crashed into the infants’ classroom, where it exploded.
Sixteen infants were killed and several dozen injured. The survivors huddled sobbing in the playground, while the teachers went to search the building. It was a horrific scene, breaking the hearts of all who saw it.
14 June
1381: The archbishop of Canterbury loses his head
Rebels discovered Simon Sudbury, Archbishop of Canterbury (whom they regarded as one of their chief oppressors), cowering in the chapel of the White Tower.
Unfortunately for Sudbury, his captors weren’t in a merciful mood, and he was soon dragged away to Tower Hill to meet his maker. It allegedly took eight clumsy blows to remove his head, which was then paraded through the streets before being impaled on London Bridge.
15 June
1648: Margaret Jones is executed in Massachusetts for witchcraft
“At this court,” begins the 15 June 1648 entry in the journal of John Winthrop, governor of Massachusetts, “one Margaret Jones, of Charlestown, was indicted and found guilty of witchcraft, and hanged for it.”
Jones’s death marked the beginning of a witch-hunt craze that would claim the lives of around 80 New England colonists over the next century.
- Quiz | Would you have been accused of witchcraft?
16 June
1487: Henry VII decisively wins the last clash in the Wars of the Roses at the battle of Stokes Field
Although Lincoln’s mercenaries carried the latest continental firearms, the king’s archers proved decisive, their arrows raining mercilessly down onto the Yorkist ranks, with one chronicler likening the stricken men to hedgehogs. By the end of the battle, the Yorkists had turned and fled, many of them butchered in a gully known afterwards as the Bloody Gutter. The death toll may have been higher than 4,000. Now the civil wars really were over.
17 June
1462: Vlad the Impaler massacres 15,000
In the early hours of 17 June, Vlad attacked, accompanied by several thousand of his best men. As one Wallachian veteran later recalled: “During the entire night he sped like lightning in every direction and caused great slaughter.” The fighting went on until four in the morning, leaving the Ottoman army in utter consternation. And then, according to the Wallachian veteran, Vlad “returned to the same mountain from which he had come. No one dared pursue him, since he had caused such terror and turmoil”.
In Romania, the Night Attack of Târgoviste is remembered as a national triumph. But it also cemented Vlad’s reputation as one of the most fearsome warriors of the age.
18 June
1178: Monks witness an extraordinary lunar event
Some time after sunset, the monks had noticed something extraordinary in the sky. “Now,” Gervase of Canterbury wrote, “there was a bright new moon... its horns were tilted toward the east; and suddenly the upper horn split in two. From the midpoint of the division a flaming torch sprang up, spewing out, over a considerable distance, fire, hot coals, and sparks. Meanwhile the body of the moon which was below writhed, as it were, in anxiety, and to put it in the words of those who reported it to me and saw it with their own eyes, the moon throbbed like a wounded snake.”
Today, many lunar experts believe the monks had been watching the formation of the moon’s enormous Giordano Bruno crater, named after an Italian philosopher. It was probably created by the impact of an asteroid or comet, which would explain the burst of molten matter seen by the monks – though they, of course, had no way of understanding what it was they had witnessed.
19 June
1829: Establishment of the Metropolitan Police
Parliament passes Home Secretary Robert Peel’s ‘Act for improving the Police in and near the Metropolis’.
Famous deaths in June
4 June 1941
Wilhelm II, former German kaiser
9 June 1870
Charles Dickens, writer
11 June 1183
Henry ‘the Young King’, son and heir of King Henry II
11 June 1970
Alexander Kerensky, leader of the Russian provisional government in 1917
14 June 1883
Edward FitzGerald, poet, student of the battle of Naseby and translator
16 June 1929
Bramwell Booth, eldest son of William Booth, the founder of the Salvation Army
17 June 1862
Charles, 1st Earl Canning, governor-general of India during the mutiny of the Bengal army in 1857
23 June 1839
Lady Hester Stanhope, society hostess and niece of Pitt the Younger
25 June 1533
Mary Tudor, widow of Louis XII of France and wife of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk
25 June 1912
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, Dutch-born classical painter
27 June 1831
Sophie Germain, French mathematician
29 June 1509
Lady Margaret Beaufort, widow of Edmund Tudor and mother of Henry VII
30 June 1660
William Oughtred, English mathematician
20 June
1837: Victoria becomes queen
Victoria recorded in her diary: “The archbishop of Canterbury and Lord Conyngham were here and wished to see me. I got out of bed and went into my sitting-room (only in my dressing gown) and alone, and saw them. Lord Conyngham then acquainted me that my poor uncle, the king, was no more, and had expired at 12 minutes past two this morning, and consequently that I am queen.”
21 June
1529: Catherine of Aragon causes a courtroom sensation
“Sir,” she implored, “I beseech you for all the loves there hath been between us, and for the love of God, let me have justice. Take of me some pity and compassion.” The spectators sat in silence, listening to the queen pleading on her knees in her deep Spanish accent. “I take God and all the world,” she said, “to witness that I have been to you a true, humble and obedient wife, ever comfortable to your will and pleasure.”
22 June
1948: The Windrush arrives at Tilbury
On a grey, misty day in June 1948, a former German passenger liner arrived at Tilbury docks on the Thames Estuary – to a storm of media attention.
23 June
1940: Hitler tours Paris
To Speer, the Nazis’ chief architect, Hitler waxed lyrical about the beauties of the French capital. But he was determined that Germany could do better. “Berlin,” he said later, “must be more beautiful. When we are finished in Berlin, Paris will be only a shadow.”
24 June
1981: The Humber Bridge opens for traffic
Linking Yorkshire and Lincolnshire it was, at the time of its opening, the world’s longest single span suspension bridge.
25 June
1876: General Custer meets his match at Little Bighorn
What exactly happened at Little Bighorn will never be known. Confident that he had found Sitting Bull’s camp, General Custer divided his troops into three, hoping to cut his opponents off. But the initial assault went wrong and after less than an hour, Custer found himself trapped on the hill above the river, at the mercy of a vast force of war-whooping Sioux fighters.
Because there were few survivors, we do not even know exactly how he died. Some say he was cut down by an enemy bullet; others that he was wounded and then shot by his brother to spare him from agonising torture. Either way, the battle brought the end of Custer’s life – and the beginning of his legend.
26 June
AD 363: A Persian spear fells Roman Emperor Julian
On 26 June, Julian had thrown himself into a fray after marching on the Persian capital of Ctesiphon, wrote Ammianus Marcellinus, a historian on the emperor’s military staff, “when suddenly a cavalry spear, grazing the skin of his arm, pierced his side and fixed itself in the bottom of his liver”.
27 June
1954: Brazil and Hungary’s World Cup quarter-final descends into an all-out brawl
“Never in my life have I seen such cruel tackling, the cutting down of opponents as if with a scythe, followed by threatening attitudes and sly jabs when officialdom was engaged elsewhere,” reported The Times correspondent.
At the final whistle, the Brazilians once again invaded the pitch, and the fighting in the dressing room was so intense that Hungary’s manager needed four stitches in his face. For the referee, Arthur Ellis from Halifax, the events that day were a terrible disappointment: “I thought it was going to be the greatest game I’d ever see. I was on top of the world,” he said later. “Whether politics and religion had something to do with it I don’t know, but they behaved like animals.”
28 June
1846: The saxophone is invented
Having devised instruments such as the saxhorn and the saxotromba, Belgian inventor Adolphe Sax hits the jackpot with his patent for a single-reed instrument made of brass. Once again he names it after himself – the saxophone.
29 June
1613: The Globe theatre burns to the ground
The production company clearly wanted the play All Is True – which centres on Henry’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon – to go off with a bang. And so, at a climactic moment in the performance, a cannon was fired towards the theatre’s famous open roof.
The explosion certainly made an impact, but for all the wrong reasons. Sparks set the thick thatched roof smouldering and, before long, smoke was creeping through the rafters. At first, nobody in the crowd seemed to notice – according to one onlooker, “their eyes [were] more attentive to the show” – but soon the fire had become impossible to ignore.
Remarkably, nobody was hurt in the blaze, though one man’s breeches caught alight (his skin was literally saved when someone soaked him in beer).
The Globe itself wasn’t so lucky and the inferno quickly swept through the building. The theatre that had been built by Shakespeare’s playing company in 1599, and had puton some of his most famous plays, was burned to cinders.
30 June
1934: Hitler tightens his grip on power through a spate of ruthless killings
In a brutal purge known as the Night of the Long Knives, dozens, possibly hundreds of people were killed. The victims included not just the SA leadership, but old Nazi comrades who had fallen out with Hitler, senior figures in the Catholic Centre Party and, most famously, Hitler’s predecessor as Germany’s chancellor, General Kurt von Schleicher. Röhm himself was shot after refusing to commit suicide. Now Hitler’s power was unchecked. For as he boasted to the Reichstag, the Night of the Long Knives had confirmed his status as “the supreme judge of the German people”.
Find out about anniversaries in previous months...
]]> Queens of bling: the importance of jewellery to Henry VIII's six wives https://www.historyextra.com/membership/queens-of-bling/ Mon, 22 May 2023 07:07:56 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/membership/queens-of-bling/ When each of the wives of King Henry VIII sought to project messages about themselves to the watching world, they often did so via their jewellery. Their pendants, brooches and gems could be to display anything from power to piety. Nicola Tallis explores portraits of the six queens to reveal how their choice of pendants, rubies and brooches shaped their public images Listen to a version of this article:
Catherine of Aragon: symbols of salvation as a public display of piety
The jewels worn by the first wife of Henry VIII not only say a great deal about her status but, more significantly, her character and values. In keeping with the fashion for low-cut gowns, Catherine’s is lined with pearls and diamonds set in goldsmith’s work. But it was her necklace and brooch set that drew the most interest. Attached to the necklace of gold beads and clusters of pearls is an ornate tau cross – a T-shaped cross symbolic of salvation. Interestingly, Catherine’s daughter, Mary, was later painted wearing a similar cross, as were Jane Seymour and Katherine Parr, reflecting each queen’s piety.
- Read more | Henry VIII’s six wives: your guide to the Tudor king's queen consorts
Queens were expected to be pious, but Catherine of Aragon’s faith was personal too. Her jewels reflect a genuine and heartfelt devotion to God, and the tau cross was also associated with her favourite religious order, the Observant Franciscans. Her commitment to the Franciscans was reinforced by her choice of the IHS brooch pinned to her chest (IHS is an abbreviation of the Greek word for Jesus). IHS had been employed as a peace symbol since the 15th century, and by Catherine’s time, it had become an integral marker of Catholic identity.
Catherine is well known for being a principled woman with a strong religious faith. Her choices of jewellery reinforced this image by providing a platform from which she could make her piety public – and enduring.
Anne Boleyn: an independent woman at the cutting edge of fashion
This image of Anne Boleyn has etched its way into popular memory. Five centuries after it was painted, it remains a source of fascination – and that fascination is largely the product of her jewels, most specifically the gold “B” pendant hanging from her neck. Anne acquired a reputation for great style and sophistication among her contemporaries, so it’s tempting to imagine that the trend for wearing jewels bearing initials originated with her.
The fashion, however, had begun long before, spreading through Europe during the late 14th century. Margaret of Austria, regent of the Netherlands, was extremely fond of initial jewels. Given that Anne had spent a small amount of time at Margaret’s cosmopolitan court in Mechelen in her youth, it is feasible that she was influenced by the trend there. Anne was fascinated by fashion, so it is unsurprising that she set and expressed the latest trends through her choice of jewellery.
- Read more | The three French queens who inspired Anne Boleyn
She was certainly enthusiastic about initial pieces, for in addition to her “B” pendant she owned an “AB” and an “A”, which her daughter, Elizabeth, can be seen wearing in a portrait. Anne also had a ring which displayed her motto: “The most happy.” Such jewels provided a neat way of showcasing Anne’s pride in her Boleyn roots and her individuality, and at least two of her successors, Catherine Howard and Katherine Parr, owned similar items.
Initial jewellery is a style that has retained its popularity, and Anne’s image is immediately conjured when considering its history. The trend may not have begun or ended with her, but she has doubtless contributed to the fascination and is certainly worthy of the title of fashionista.
Jane Seymour: projecting power, glory and her magnificence
The imperial ambassador Eustace Chapuys described her as “no great beauty”, but what Jane Seymour may have lacked in looks she certainly made up for in jewels. In her portrait by the great master Hans Holbein, Jane is adorned in some of the most splendid pieces from the queen’s jewel collection. It is possible that some were inherited from her predecessors, and certainly, many of Jane’s items later came into the possession of Catherine Howard and Katherine Parr.
Painted in exquisite detail, the rich pearls and diamonds studded in gold that adorn Jane’s headdress – known as a habillement – form a matching set with those around her neck, waist and the border of her dress, known as a square. Jane’s inventory lists numerous jewelled buttons, so it is unsurprising that the sleeves of her gown show some of the practical jewels that pinned them together. She also owned more than 50 pairs of beads, and several descriptions match those that hang from her waist that were elaborately decorated, probably with enamel.
- Read more | The royal weddings of Henry VIII: Alison Weir on what came before divorced, beheaded, died...
Jane’s most impressive jewel, however, is the spectacular ouche – a pendant set with jewels – that is suspended from her necklace. Catherine Howard also wore this while sitting for her portrait, revealing not just a link between the two queens but also that this was a high value piece that made a statement of splendour. Jane’s portrait reveals a queen consort who clearly wanted to impress with her magnificence.
Anne of Cleves: a determination to carve out her own identity in a new home
Henry’s marriage to Anne of Cleves may only have lasted for six months in 1540, but she was determined to make the most of queenship – and the material trappings that came with it. This contemporary portrait shows her dressed in the style popular in the Duchy of Cleves: pearls adorning both her costume and her jewelled coif (a close-fitting cap). Yet the jewels that she bought on becoming Henry’s fourth wife paint a more impressive picture.
As a foreign queen (born in Dusseldorf) yet to make friends and allies in her new country, jewels were glamorous tools that allowed Anne to carve out her own identity. By spending more than £400 in a matter of months – an exorbitant sum – Anne recognised the value of splendour when it came to fashioning a role for herself at court. Her jewels came from several goldsmiths employed by the other wives as well as the king, and her purchases included diamonds, a gold chain and rings that were perhaps similar to those worn in her portrait.
There was also a brooch “garnished with diamonds”, which told the story of Samson (and, as such, could be viewed as a sign of strength, or even romantic betrayal). A similar piece later appeared in Henry’s inventory: could it have been the same? Perhaps most importantly, money was outlaid for “the engraving and making of the queen’s grace’s great seal”, a sign that Anne took her duties seriously. Her jewels served to boost not only her confidence but also her status.
Catherine Howard: luxurious objects of desire for Henry’s young bride
When Henry married Catherine Howard in the summer of 1540 at Oatlands Palace, he was infatuated with his new, young bride. So enamoured was he that he showered Catherine with gifts of jewels in tangible signs of his love and affection. A number of these were given “at the time of the solemnisation of their marriage”, but there were many more to follow. At new year 1541, Henry gave his wife eight pieces of jewellery. In a gesture of kindness, Catherine then presented a ring (which Henry had given her) to her predecessor, Anne of Cleves.
- On the podcast | Franny Moyle chronicles the incredible art and tempestuous life of Hans Holbein the Younger
Catherine’s opulent jewels are reflected in Hans Holbein’s miniature, which is widely thought to depict Henry’s fifth wife. One of the strongest clues of the sitter’s identity comes from her jewels; an inventory compiled at the time of Catherine’s fall and execution (1541–42) lists 175 items, many of which had probably been owned by Henry’s previous queens. It includes the same diamond and ruby ouche that was worn by Jane Seymour.
Similar rings to those worn in the miniature also appear in the inventory, and the same is true of the jewels attached to Catherine’s rich hood. These pieces were so valuable that it is easy to understand why a contemporary chronicler believed that “the king had no wife who made him spend so much money in dresses and jewels as she did”.
Katherine Parr: a sumptuous costume to secure the royal seal of approval
Almost certainly painted to mark Katherine Parr’s regency in the summer of 1544, Master John’s likeness of Henry VIII’s fashion-conscious sixth queen displays some of Katherine’s costliest jewels. The beads suspended from her waist are decorated with antique faces in keeping with the latest trends, while a dazzling ouche is attached to her beautiful necklace.
This was perhaps a favourite, given that Katherine wore it while sitting for another portrait. One of Katherine’s jewels is particularly striking, for it exemplifies the common theme in her collection: grandeur. Pinned to her dress is an opulent crown brooch, which may have been commissioned on the queen’s orders. Hailing as she did from a non-royal background, throughout her reign Katherine did her utmost to project an image of majesty, and her jewels provided her with rich tools that enabled her to do so.
- On the podcast | Alison Weir discusses the varied and dramatic life of Henry VIII’s final wife
Several pieces in her collection reflected her interest in royalty, including a brooch featuring her image and that of her royal husband. This symbolised loyalty to Henry VIII. Katherine’s iconic crown brooch passed into the hands of Henry’s daughter Mary I, and it was later owned by both Queen Elizabeth I – who learned much about fashioning a royal image from Katherine – and Anne of Denmark (wife of James VI and I), on whose orders it was broken down.
Dripping in jewels, Katherine’s portrait is undoubtedly one of the most powerful images of a queen consort, and one in which, as intended, she exudes majesty.
This article was first published in the December 2022 issue of BBC History Magazine
]]> Peterborough Cathedral: Catherine of Aragon’s final resting place https://www.historyextra.com/membership/six-wives-explorer-catherine-aragon/ Tue, 25 Apr 2023 12:45:07 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/membership/six-wives-explorer-catherine-aragon/ Dr Nicola Clark explains why Peterborough Castle is a place of pilgrimage for Catherine of Aragon fans… The heritage space connected to Catherine of Aragon that I would recommend people to visit is Peterborough Cathedral, as this is where she's buried. Peterborough Cathedral, originally an abbey, is a Norman cathedral that’s very old – it was originally founded in AD 654. It has stood since then, or parts of it have anyway.
Catherine of Aragon was buried there in January 1536. Catherine died at Kimbolton Castle, and Henry VIII was then left in a quandary. Normally a queen consort would be given a very high-status burial somewhere in London, such as at St Paul's Cathedral or Westminster Abbey.
But Catherine was no longer a queen consort – she was a dowager princess. Henry didn’t want to bury her with all of the honour that he would give a reigning queen consort, but he also couldn’t do nothing, as he didn't want to annoy the Spanish monarchs.
Peterborough Abbey, as it was known at the time, was the nearest and biggest religious institution to Kimbolton Castle, where Catherine died. And so Henry ordered that she should be buried there. This happened at the very end of January 1536. There was a very big funeral cortege: there were lots of noble women acting as chief mourners, a lot of black cloth, a lot of candles. And Catherine was buried under a big tomb in the nave.
The abbey was dissolved in 1539, and it later became a cathedral. Catherine's tomb was then vandalised by Oliver Cromwell’s soldiers in the English Civil War. So the tomb slab that's there now is not the original – it was installed in 1895. But it's still a big site of pilgrimage for people who admire Catherine of Aragon. You can still go and lay flowers at her tomb today.
Related content:
- Video | Catherine of Aragon: A woman born to rule
- Profile | Your guide to Catherine of Aragon: Henry VIII’s first wife and mother of Mary I
- Quiz | Henry VIII’s wives: how well do you know the six women he married?
Now watch Henry VIII’s six wives: Secrets of the Tudor queens
In our six-part series Henry VIII’s six wives: Secrets of the Tudor queens, leading Tudor historians explore each queen's heady rise to power, peeling back the myths surrounding these six women to reveal their true natures. Watch all episodes now.
Dr Nicola Clark is a senior lecturer in early modern history at the University of Chichester whose books include Gender, Family and Politics (Oxford University Press, 2018)
]]> Six wives: Catherine of Aragon https://www.historyextra.com/membership/six-wives-podcast-series-catherine-of-aragon/ Sat, 25 Mar 2023 08:06:06 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/membership/six-wives-podcast-series-catherine-of-aragon/ From beloved queen to defiant divorcee, Dr Nicola Clark and Dr Tracy Borman chart the fluctuating fortunes of Henry VIII’s first wife, Catherine of Aragon Catherine of Aragon’s 23-year-long marriage to King Henry VIII witnessed many twists and turns – triumph, tragedy, and, ultimately, betrayal. In episode one of our new series on the dramatic marital history of England’s most notorious monarch, Ellie Cawthorne is joined by Dr Nicola Clark and Dr Tracy Borman to discuss the fluctuating fortunes of Henry VIII’s first wife.
Related content
- Profile | Your guide to Catherine of Aragon: Henry VIII’s first wife and mother of Mary I
- Explainer | Henry VIII’s six wives: your guide to the Tudor king's queen consorts
- Quiz | Henry VIII’s wives: how well do you know the six women he married?
On the podcast | Explore the full Six Wives series
The story of King Henry VIII’s six wives is a tale of political crisis and personal tragedy, sacrifice and survival, sex and death, scandal, love and betrayal. But, after centuries of myth have built up around this story, has it clouded our view of the real women involved? We’ll be peeling back the layers of mythmaking to take another look at these fascinating women, who shaped the course of Henry’s reign – and the history of England.
- Episode 2 | Anne Boleyn
- Episode 3 | Jane Seymour
- Episode 4 | Anne of Cleves
- Episode 5 | Catherine Howard
- Episode 6 | Katherine Parr
In video | Discover the secrets of the Tudor queens
In our accompanying six-part video series, leading Tudor historians delve into the fascinating lives of each of Henry VIII’s iconic queens. Could Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard have avoided the executioner’s block? Why can Anne of Cleves be seen as the true survivor? And who was the queen whom Henry loved most?
Find out in this video series exclusively available to HistoryExtra subscribers. All episodes are available to watch now:
- Episode 1 | Catherine of Aragon: A woman born to rule
- Episode 2 | Anne Boleyn: From trailblazer to traitor
- Episode 3 | Jane Seymour: The queen Henry loved most?
- Episode 4 | Anne of Cleves: The ultimate survivor
- Episode 5 | Catherine Howard: Victim of the patriarchy
- Episode 6 | Katherine Parr: Political powerhouse
Want to learn more about the queens?
- Explore the full podcast and video series plus a range of companion content from across HistoryExtra on our Six Wives hub
]]> Catherine of Aragon: A woman born to rule https://www.historyextra.com/membership/catherine-aragon-six-wives-video-series/ Sat, 25 Mar 2023 08:05:35 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/membership/catherine-aragon-six-wives-video-series/ In this six-part series exclusively available to HistoryExtra subscribers, leading Tudor historians delve into the fascinating lives of each of Henry VIII’s iconic queens. In this episode, Dr Nicola Clark discusses Catherine of Aragon... Over the course of Catherine’s 23-year marriage to Henry VIII, she acted as regent for the country, saw off a Scottish army and bore a future monarch of England, before Henry’s desire to remarry Anne Boleyn imploded their union. Rhiannon Davies speaks to Dr Nicola Clark about Catherine’s impressive reign – and her desperate attempts to hold on to her marriage at whatever cost.
View Green Video on the source website
Related content
- Profile | Your guide to Catherine of Aragon: Henry VIII’s first wife and mother of Mary I
- Explainer | Henry VIII’s six wives: your guide to the Tudor king's queen consorts
- Quiz | Henry VIII’s wives: how well do you know the six women he married?
Dr Nicola Clark is a senior lecturer in early modern history at the University of Chichester whose books include Gender, Family and Politics (Oxford University Press, 2018)
Explore the full video series
In our accompanying six-part video series, leading Tudor historians delve into the fascinating lives of each of Henry VIII’s iconic queens. Could Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard have avoided the executioner’s block? Why can Anne of Cleves be seen as the true survivor? And who was the queen whom Henry loved most?
Find out in this video series exclusively available to HistoryExtra subscribers. All episodes are available to watch now:
- Episode 2 | Anne Boleyn: From trailblazer to traitor
- Episode 3 | Jane Seymour: The queen Henry loved most?
- Episode 4 | Anne of Cleves: The ultimate survivor
- Episode 5 | Catherine Howard: Victim of the patriarchy
- Episode 6 | Katherine Parr: Political powerhouse
On the podcast | Explore the full Six Wives audio series
The story of King Henry VIII’s six wives is a tale of political crisis and personal tragedy, sacrifice and survival, sex and death, scandal, love and betrayal. But, after centuries of myth have built up around this story, has it clouded our view of the real women involved? In our accompanying six-part podcast series, we’ll be peeling back the layers of mythmaking to take another look at these fascinating women, who shaped the course of Henry’s reign – and the history of England.
- Episode 1 | Catherine of Aragon
- Episode 2 | Anne Boleyn
- Episode 3 | Jane Seymour
- Episode 4 | Anne of Cleves
- Episode 5 | Catherine Howard
- Episode 6 | Katherine Parr
Want to learn more about the queens?
- Explore the full podcast and video series plus a range of companion content from across HistoryExtra on our Six Wives hub
]]> Do we have to be ‘Team Catherine’ or ‘Team Anne’ when it comes to Henry VIII’s wives? https://www.historyextra.com/membership/team-catherine-team-anne-why-choose/ Wed, 27 Oct 2021 06:17:32 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/membership/team-catherine-team-anne-why-choose/ Henry VIII’s first two queens are often portrayed as opposing rivals: the scorned Catholic on one side and the reformist seductress on the other. But, argues Kate McCaffrey, the devotional books owned by both women suggest they may have shared more in common than the histories make out… Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn are two of 16th-century England’s most recognisable names: the first two of Henry VIII's six wives. For centuries, they have been pitted against one another, with historical narratives delighting in their famed rivalry and perpetuating their differences. They were adversaries in love, in power and in religion. Whilst they may have shared a husband, they shared little else.
This traditional history, which has often painted Catherine of Aragon as the scorned Catholic wife and Anne Boleyn as the bewitching reformist seductress, has never been a fair portrayal of either queen. It is a reductive tale that succeeds by tapping into the outdated social dynamic of praising one woman only to the direct detriment of another.
There has been a confused rush to declare oneself as either ‘Team Catherine’ or ‘Team Anne’, which has only ever increased the division between them. Of course, the two queens had many crucial differences, but a closer look might remind us that they also shared a lot in common.
Sharing in their devotion
A newly uncovered connection between Catherine and Anne might just be the necessary spark for us to remember what united, as well as divided, these remarkable women. The link in question was found amidst recent research into a humble, printed ‘Book of Hours’ once owned, and written in, by Anne.
Books of Hours, perhaps most succinctly described as scriptural prayer books, are generally acknowledged as the first popular books of the medieval era. Written primarily in Latin, they contained prayer cycles and psalms from the eight canonical hours (hence the name) that governed everyday life.
These beautifully illuminated devotional books were meant to be used frequently – in fact, some wealthy people owned more than one copy. The fashion of having a Book of Hours rose even more after the advent of print and their increased accessibility. Even when printed, they were often highly decorated and customised with the addition of certain prayers and illuminations. It was also common for owners to write on the pages themselves, inscribing them with passages, dates and names of personal significance.
Today, because of this level of personalisation, they offer intimate insights into their individual owners. They are also remembered for their ‘special relationship’ with women, as an ‘appropriate outlet’ for female literacy. It is known that both Catherine and Anne owned at least three Books of Hours each.
Anne’s printed Book of Hours, the subject of new research, was produced by the prolific Parisian printer Germain Hardouin in 1527 and is currently held at Anne’s childhood home, Hever Castle in Kent. One discovery of this research was that a copy of this same Hardouin printing is held in the Morgan Library in New York and was once owned by none other than Anne’s supposed rival, Catherine.
This is an intriguing connection between our two opposing queens. Despite all their differences, Catherine and Anne both owned and used the same prayerbook, possibly even at the same time.
Different, but the same
Reflecting their famed differences, the level of decoration across both copies of this book of hours is revealingly varied. Anne’s copy is illuminated to a significantly greater standard than Catherine’s.
Anne’s book has full-length, gold borders adorning pages featuring images, extra red and blue corner decoration, and elliptical frames around every section inscribed with prayers. Catherine’s copy does not feature this extra decoration.
Of course, this could simply be representative of Anne’s personal preference, as it is well-known that she enjoyed opulently illuminated books, but it could be an insight into something more suggestive: Anne’s personal ambition. In owning a book decorated to a higher standard than even the queen’s, she was arguably emulating a royal status that Catherine currently held and in only seven years’ time, Anne would hold instead.
- Why are we so fascinated by the Boleyns?
It is significant here to remember the year of this book’s production, a crucial point in the changing structure of the Henrician court. By 1527, the Henry VIII had decided that his marriage to Catherine was over and must be annulled, and by the end of the year Anne had accepted his marriage proposal. The balance of power had well and truly shifted.
The ownership of the same book by our two queens comes at a time when Anne’s star was on the meteoric rise, and Catherine’s was on the catastrophic wane. This was a time of extreme personal strife and turmoil in both of their lives. Here they were, arguably at their most divided, yet united by a small book used in the most peaceful of moments: prayer.
Queens and mothers
Owning the same Book of Hours was certainly not the only unifying factor between Henry’s first two wives. Catherine and Anne shared many characteristics in common.
Both queens were highly intelligent, involved and pious women who enjoyed international, humanist educations: Catherine at the cultured court of Spain and Anne at the prestigious courts of Margaret of Austria and later Claude of France.
They were both at the mercy of their mercurial husband and the 16th-century patriarchy; both had to endure Henry’s wandering eye and ferocious wrath; and both suffered cataclysmic downfalls – Catherine’s gradual and prolonged, Anne’s sudden and sweeping. Both also failed in their one queenly duty to provide Henry with a surviving son.
- Read more about the lost heirs of Henry VIII – Alison Weir discusses Katherine of Aragon’s failed pregnancies
Yet both Catherine and Anne were loving, protective mothers to England’s first two queens regnant, Mary I and Elizabeth I. This, perhaps, is their ultimate point of unity. They were mothers of two unwanted daughters whose legacies ironically outshine that of Henry’s longed-for male heir by Jane Seymour, who would reign as Edward VI.
Undoubtedly, in certain aspects of their lives, these two women were rivals. But they were both uncompromising, active and influential women in a world made for, and by, men. This alone is a unifying feat worth celebrating.
Catherine and Anne’s shared Book of Hours can perhaps epitomise the relationship between them. Their book was the same copy of the same printing, but differently decorated and differently used. It is possible to understand the nuance of their disparities without pitting them against one another and without forgetting their similarities.
If teams must be chosen, then surely now it is possible to proudly choose ‘Team Catherine and Anne’.
Kate McCaffrey is the Assistant Curator at Hever Castle in Kent, whose current research into Anne Boleyn’s Books of Hours is revealing new insights into the life of Henry VIII’s second queen. Find out more at kateemccaffrey.wordpress.com. You can also find her on Twitter @kateemccaffrey
]]> Tudors in love: what were the dynasty's romantic secrets? https://www.historyextra.com/membership/tudors-courtly-love-henry-viii-elizabeth-i/ Tue, 26 Oct 2021 02:30:02 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/membership/tudors-courtly-love-henry-viii-elizabeth-i/ Sarah Gristwood reveals how the Tudor monarchs exploited the medieval obsession with courtly love – a romantic creed inspired by the idea of valiant knights risking their lives to woo fair ladies – to further their own agendas Listen to this article:
Lancelot is desperate to reach Guinevere’s chamber – so desperate that he’s crawled over a bridge made from a sword blade to rescue her. The French poet Chrétien de Troyes describes Lancelot’s fingers shredded to the bone as he wrenches the bars from her window, but in her service he feels no pain...
When, in the latter part of the 12th century, Chrétien de Troyes wrote this powerful account in his poem Lancelot, he was giving voice to an ideal taken up by almost every other writer of the Arthurian stories, from Thomas Malory in the 1460s to Lerner and Loewe in the mid-20th century, when they wrote the musical Camelot.
What is courtly love?
But the idea of what a later age dubbed “courtly love” goes far beyond the Arthurian tales. This creed of love was heard in the songs of the troubadours and given formal shape in the courts of what we now call France. It began as a literary fantasy, centred around the image of service – a knight, or young noble lover, kneeling in devotion before a lady he may never even attain – which fascinated the aristocracy. Triggering a huge outpouring of poems, songs and novels, courtly love was described by medievalist and writer CS Lewis as a movement compared to which “the Renaissance [was] a mere ripple on the surface of literature”.
Yet in reality, its tropes did not stay confined to the page. Indeed, the image of a man in service to his lover is a picture we still all recognise today. Take, for instance, the popular TV adverts “The lady loves Milk Tray”, where a heroic man went to ludicrous lengths to bring his lover her desire: a box of chocolates. Enshrined in many of our traditional ceremonies and courtesies, its basic tenets have come to inform our whole idea of romance.
But we aren’t the only society to be influenced by courtly love. Time and again, medieval monarchs made political capital from the fantasy. And certainly the ideas of chivalry, and of courtly love, were co-opted into the service of the Tudor dynasty. Henry VII used the Arthurian legends to bolster his fragile new dynasty; Henry VIII called on courtly tropes to woo Anne Boleyn. Their daughter Elizabeth found there a language to sanction her controversial female monarchy.
Adulterous passions
One of thorniest issues in the creed was whether courtly lovers should surrender to their passions. It had been at the court of Marie de Champagne, Eleanor of Aquitaine’s daughter by Louis VII of France, that de Troyes had written of Lancelot and Guinevere, on the instruction, he said, of his patroness Marie. He did so in terms that saw their adulterous passion honoured for its ardour: this, at a time when church and state alike demanded the harshest penalties for real adultery. Yet de Troyes’ Lancelot genuflects on leaving Guinevere’s chamber, as if at a holy shrine.
It was probably also at Marie’s court that one Andreas Capellanus (Andrew the Chaplain) wrote his De Amore (On Love), in which he laid down the rules for a spiritual, courtly passion: “You must maintain chastity for your lover,” and “remember to avoid lying completely.” Andreas’s ideal relationship takes place between a young man and a woman already married to someone else, and of higher rank than he. As to whether the relationship was necessarily platonic… that one occupied theorists for centuries. At the end of the 13th century, in a different moral climate from that of Marie’s court, the church condemned Capellanus’s writings.
- Listen | Sarah Gristwood considers how the Tudor monarchs used medieval ideas about courtly love for their own ends
Andreas satirised the extremes to which this ideal of love could lead – and maybe even criticised it, too. Courtly suitors must obey their ladies’ lightest command, but with women of the lower orders, Capellanus said, they should “not hesitate to embrace them by force... use a little compulsion as a convenient cure for their shyness”.
He also described Marie and her mother Eleanor presiding over actual courts of love, adjudicating on such knotty points as whether true love within marriage was even possible. (Marie decided not, since true love was a matter of free choice, and marriage of Courtly love was a movement compared to which the Renaissance was “a mere ripple on the surface of literature” family arrangement.) Though generations of historians presented this fantastical picture as fact, few today would claim that actual courts of love existed in the 12th century.
Throughout the medieval period, the ideal of courtly love changed hue with the changing times. Different eras found either more, or less, value in the ideals of chivalry as a whole – and in the specific, potentially adulterous, fantasy of courtly love. But it never vanished entirely, thanks in part to courtly bestsellers like the Roman de La Rose (and to highly publicised debates like the one provoked by writer Christine de Pizan when she dared criticise that book, from what it’s hard not to call a feminist standpoint). Dante, Petrarch and Chaucer all utilised the ideals of courtly love in different ways. And of course the endlessly reinvented Arthurian stories were brought centre stage when Thomas Malory’s mighty Morte d’Arthur was printed by William Caxton in 1485 – the year that launched the Tudor dynasty.
Slaying the boar
Before the battle of Bosworth, Henry Tudor adopted as his standard the Red Dragon Dreadful, the dragon of Wales. Perhaps it is no coincidence that Malory’s Morte also described how King Arthur dreamt of a fight where a dragon beat down a tyrant boar – the boar being the symbol of Richard III, Henry’s great adversary. Enthroned but still vulnerable to Yorkist threat, Henry named his eldest son Arthur and ensured that he was born at Winchester, which Malory had identified as Camelot. Entertaining Philip of Burgundy, a star of the tournament (a sporting event newly fashionable again since the 15th century), he showed him the Round Table. But it was Henry VII’s son who was besotted with the courtly side of the chivalric fantasy.
Henry VIII’s court relished acting out the fantasy of love. Watched by his wife Catherine of Aragon, Henry rode in the lists under the name Sir Loyalheart, her Coeur Loyal. Perhaps courtly love had been co-opted into the service of wedded affection – “I love true where I did marry,” Henry wrote. But the creed was still ill-equipped to cope with the realities of an ageing wife and years of failing to produce a surviving male heir.
There had always been a darker side to courtly fantasy. When in 1513 Henry went to fight in France, he took with him Charles Brandon, and there the Netherlands regent Margaret of Austria became embroiled with Charles in a scandalous story. It started with after-dinner courtly play: Brandon swearing to be Margaret’s servant, and she to be his good mistress. But soon Brandon was showing off the ring he had snatched from Margaret, ignoring the discretion that was supposed to be a hallmark of the courtly lover. As a result, she reported horrified, the tale was being spread even by “merchant strangers” in the streets.
Less than three years later, Brandon made an unsanctioned marriage with Mary Tudor, Henry VIII’s younger sister. She – educated like Henry in the old romantic stories – had extracted from her brother an extraordinary promise that if she furthered his policies by marrying the aged Louis XII of France, she might make a second marriage “as mine own heart and mind should be best pleased”.
There was one important spectator of all these adventures: a young Anne Boleyn, sent in 1513 to serve Margaret of Austria, and then to France, to Mary Tudor’s court. It was some seven years before Anne returned to England, but then her first recorded appearance was in another piece of love pageantry.
The “Siege of the Chateau Vert” in 1522 – the same year Henry had the Winchester Round Table revamped to reflect the Tudor story – saw knights representing the chivalric virtues attack a castle of ladies. The king’s sister represented Beauty, and Anne Boleyn was Perseverance. At the tournament beforehand Henry had jousted under the device of “the heart of a man wounded” – prophetically, as it would turn out.
The letters Henry VIII wrote to Anne show him delightedly flexing his muscles as a courtly suitor. Though king, he writes to his “mistress... to acquit myself of the duty of a true servant”, or declares that “my heart and I surrender ourselves into your hands”. He asks whether he can truly call Anne his mistress since that “denotes a singular love, far removed from the common”. As the years wore on, Henry’s goal would change from making Anne his mistress (in either the courtly or the sexual sense) to making her his wife. But then, the patterns of courtly love would have another dangerous game to play.
It is still debatable what – after barely three years of marriage – really lay behind the downfall of Anne Boleyn. Was it the “pastime” – the music, dancing, poetry and flirtatious talk – in Anne’s chamber, the ritual tribute of other men’s admiration that might be paid to any courtly lady? Had she failed to understand the difference between fantasy and reality, the role of a mistress and of a wife? Or instead was it all a matter of court faction, and Henry’s desperation for a son? (This would not be the first time the tropes of courtly love, or the charge of a woman’s sexual incontinence, had been used to cloak hard political reality.) But the courtly ethic that actively suggested extramarital affairs was surely a weapon in Thomas Cromwell’s hands, and it lent colour to the charges levelled against Anne.
As Anne speculated that she might be allowed to retire to a convent and recalled predictions that a queen of England would be burned, it is hard to believe that she did not remember stories of Guinevere, sentenced to the flames or to a nunnery. Henry’s unusual decision that she should die by the sword may itself have been influenced by the fact the sword was a symbol of chivalry. Perhaps that’s why courtly tropes don’t feature so strongly in his subsequent marital history – although he did attempt to surprise Anne of Cleves in disguise at Rochester as part of a courtly game, but unfortunately it was one she had no training to play.
The courtly queen
Even Henry’s daughter Mary I would show a flash of more generalised romanticism, telling her parliament she should not be asked to marry a man she did not care for, saying: “Where private persons... follow their own private tastes, sovereigns may reasonably challenge an equal liberty.” Her marriage to Philip of Spain, though political, saw her “extraordinarily in love”. But it was under Mary’s half-sister, Elizabeth, that the fantasy of courtly love reached its apogee.
The universal assumption during Elizabeth’s early reign was that she too had to marry. But when it became apparent that she was treading a more controversial single path, the challenge was to find an acceptable language, a coding, for her unmarried female monarchy. At almost every point the rules of courtly love matched the relationship between Elizabeth and her courtiers – explaining as nothing else has done how such extravagance could be accepted so readily.
The courtly lady was meant to be capricious and demanding, testing her lover’s unquestioning devotion. Caprice and demand were Elizabeth’s specialities. The theory made the homage paid by favourites like Leicester and Hatton, Ralegh and Essex seem admirable, rather than absurd, and gave an acceptable gloss to Elizabeth’s own flirtatious behaviour. The role reversal implicit in a creed that seemed to give power to the woman is echoed in the complex position of a reigning queen.
True, the original heroines of the courtly love story married – but then, Elizabeth would figure herself as married to her country, displaying the ring that symbolised the union. And if the courtly lady was supposed to be of higher rank, and thus able to dispense patronage, no one had more patronage at her disposal than the queen.
Even more significantly, the courtly lady was supposed to provide a superior moral example which, if her adorer learnt from it, would improve his knightly status. Castiglione’s The Book of the Courtier was translated by Sir Thomas Hoby three years into Elizabeth’s reign, urging that the courtly lady should be loved by the perfect courtier “and that she should love him in turn, so that both may attain absolute perfection”. You could not get much higher, morally, than a woman who the ritual of the coronation had allied to God. In the courtly poetry of 14th-century Italy, Beatrice and Laura had acted as spiritual lodestars for Dante and Petrarch, and the role was ideal for a queen giving spiritual example to her country.
Though courtly ideals had little currency under Elizabeth’s successor, James, the idea of the queen reigning over hearts never entirely died away. In 1865 Ruskin urged women to be “queens to your lovers; queens to your husbands and your sons; queens of higher mystery to the world beyond”. If the Tudors both exploited and embodied this enduring ideal, that may be one reason we are still so fascinated by their story.
Sarah Gristwood is the author of The Tudors in Love: The Courtly Code Behind the Last Medieval Dynasty, published by Oneworld.
The Victorian revival
Courtly love enjoyed a later resurgence, impacting everything from Boy Scouts to the Titanic
Two centuries after jousting went out of fashion in Britain, the Eglinton tournament of 1839 once again saw knights in full armour thundering towards each other down the lists, hoping for a trophy that was to be awarded by the Queen of Beauty. The Victorian revival of chivalry had its roots in the Romantic rediscovery of all things medieval and the novels of Sir Walter Scott, and it was ultimately co-opted into the service of Victorian morality.
Victoria and Albert were painted as Queen Philippa and Edward III; Disraeli would later call Victoria “the Faery”, in reference to Spenser’s The Faerie Queene. Baden-Powell urged his Boy Scouts to protect ladies, and a picture of Sir Galahad (preferred to Lancelot for his “purity”) hung in the chapel at Eton. Tennyson’s Idylls of the King pictured a repentant Guinevere prostrate at Arthur’s feet.
By contrast, the pre-Raphaelites seized on the Arthurian love triangle as a reflection of their own tangled love affairs. So too did the clever upper-class coterie known as the Souls. When Wilfred Scawen Blunt went to visit Lady Windsor, both dressed in white, they walked around a medieval castle discussing Lancelot and Guinevere.
The ideal of chivalry would be there, too, when men made way for women and children on the decks of the Titanic. And, poignantly, a soldier-knight kneeling before a lovely angel would be among the propaganda postcards produced for the First World War.
This article was first published in the October 2021 issue of BBC History Magazine
]]> Prince Arthur, Catherine of Aragon, and Henry VIII: a story of early Tudor triumph and tragedy https://www.historyextra.com/period/tudor/prince-arthur-catherine-katherine-aragon-king-henry-viii-marriage-death-brother/ Thu, 25 Feb 2021 15:05:45 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/period/tudor/prince-arthur-catherine-katherine-aragon-king-henry-viii-marriage-death-brother/ When the teenage Arthur, first prince of the Tudor royal family, married Spanish princess Catherine of Aragon in a spectacular wedding ceremony, it sparked a chain of events that would change the face of England forever. Here, Sean Cunningham explores their short marriage and the seeds of the second union that was to come The wedding of Arthur, first prince of the Tudor royal family, to Catherine of Aragon reveals King Henry VII’s ambition for England in the rapidly changing European political firmament at the end of the 15th century. The negotiations were long and complicated, and the ceremony the most spectacular seen in England for more than a century. Yet the marriage was tragically short – ended by Arthur’s death in April 1502 after only five months as a teenage husband. Its consequences were to become enormous once Arthur’s brother, Prince Henry, made the decision to ask Catherine to be his wife.
Most late medieval English royal weddings had been private, sometimes even secret, events. That was not the case with the marriage that allied England and Spain in November 1501. Arthur and Catherine’s matrimony was manipulated for maximum public impact on an international scale. Henry VII had already demonstrated that propaganda was an essential tool in establishing Tudor rule. The birth and christening of Arthur at Winchester in September 1486 emphasised his family’s connection to the ancient and mythical rulers of Britain, while elsewhere Henry VII had also worked more practically to enhance his legitimacy through negotiation and promises.
- The real history behind 'The Spanish Princess'
Henry’s own pledge at Christmas 1483 to marry the 17-year-old Elizabeth of York, believed to be the last surviving heir of Edward IV, did much to maintain the momentum of opposition to Richard III (although we don’t know what she thought of the plan, having the status to claim the throne in her own right). This marriage took place in January 1486, and Arthur’s birth on 19 September strengthened belief in the legitimacy of Tudor power. Henry also knew that his seizure of the crown in battle made it essential that the new English king found firm friends who would help sustain his regime in the face of the backlash he knew was coming. Domestically, Henry began a conciliatory policy to build loyalty. Internationally, he sought alliances and the containment of foreign support for his enemies.
A union with Spain
The new king recognised that Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile were on the cusp of exerting great influence across the continent. The Reconquista of Iberian territory was in its final phase (defeat of the Emirate of Granada came in January 1492), and the opening of sea routes to the Caribbean would soon follow. The Anglo-Spanish treaty of Medina del Campo of 27 March 1489 had first set out the plans for Prince Arthur to marry Catherine of Aragon, the youngest child of the Catholic monarchs. It also brokered trade agreements and established the basis by which both countries might fight France.
Marriage agreements and proxy ceremonies were finally confirmed after the execution of the pretender to the throne Perkin Warbeck and the last Yorkist prince, Edward Plantagenet. Their deaths proved to Ferdinand and Isabella that Henry had made England a safe place for their daughter to live and rule as wife of a future King Arthur. Throughout the year 1500, the king’s councillors began to plan how the pageantry, ceremony and entertainment of the marriage celebrations would promote Tudor legitimacy and power. Henry VII was certainly ambitious. This was to be one of the greatest public spectacles ever seen in England.
Catherine’s landing was meant to be in Southampton with a quick ceremonial journey towards London. Poor weather delayed her departure from northern Spain, however, and she did not land until 2 October 1501 – and in Plymouth. Her journey to London then became a rapid progress. The street closures and construction of theatrical entertainments could not easily be shifted from the elaborate plans the king had already put in place.
Prince Arthur Tudor: key dates
19 September 1486 | Arthur, first son of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, is born in Winchester. He is named after the legendary king who is much in vogue through the writings of Geoffrey of Monmouth 28 November 1489 | A sister, Margaret 'Meg' Tudor, is born to Arthur. The following day, the three-year-old boy is invested as the Prince of Wale 28 June 1491 | Prince Henry is born in Greenwich. He is not sent to his elder brother's household, but instead joins his sister Margaret in the nursery overseen by his mother 1493 | Arthur is sent to Ludlow, to continue his education as the king-in-waiting. Henry meanwhile is still being weaned, and learning to walk, in the company of his mother and sister 31 October 1494 | Henry is invested as the Duke of York in London. This continues the mirroring of his childhood with that of his uncle, Richard Duke of York, one of the unfortunate princes in the tower 14 November 1501 | Prince Arthur marries Catherine of Aragon at St Paul's Cathedral. The two 15-year-olds then go off to live as man and wife in Ludlow. Arthur's brother Henry was Katherine's escort 11 February 1503 | Queen Elizabeth dies nine days after giving birth to her last daughter Catherine. Henry, her surviving son and the heir to the throne, is not yet 12 years old 23 February 1504 | Henry takes over his dead brother's place as Prince of Wales 21 April 1509 | Henry VII dies. Three days later, his son is pronounced King Henry VIII 11 June 1509 | Henry marries his brother's widow, Catherine of Aragon. The pair have a magnificent joint coronation on 24 June. The country rejoices.
Preparing for a spectacle
Pageants of welcome laden with symbolism, mechanical devices and actors would begin on the river Thames and continue into the city. Cosmic and religious allegories emphasised the ancient heroic lineage of the couple, their closeness to God and therefore their fitness to rule in England together. Henry VII cleverly boosted his family’s credibility by exploring how ancestry already linked Catherine and Arthur.
The interior of St Paul’s, as the venue for the marriage ceremony on Sunday 14 November 1501, had been redesigned. A raised walkway drew the attention of all people crammed into the space as the royal couple, dressed in white satin, took centre stage in a full-blown royal performance. The festive spirit can only have been helped by the provision of an endless fountain of wine for the London public by the west door of the church.
Work to prepare venues around London for the wedding had been under way for over two years. Reworking the existing glazing, statues and carvings in Westminster Palace to include dragons, greyhounds, roses and portcullises left no doubt about the elevation in status of the Tudor-Beaufort royal family. The king’s English cooks were instructed to indulge their imaginations as well as promote the best of English produce, which was served on gilded plate reported to be worth as much as the income from a national tax. Three days of tournaments at the rebuilt tiltyard at Westminster Palace completed a week of wedding celebrations. A final exchange of valuable gifts of jewels, books and paintings marked the transfer of Catherine into England’s care.
Counterbalancing Henry’s high-handed statesmanship was the personal story of Arthur and Catherine. At the centre of the lavish and elaborate events were two teenagers who had met briefly for the first time only 10 days before their marriage – at Dogmersfield in Hampshire on 5 November. Catherine was probably exhausted and overwhelmed by her first five weeks in her new country. The security of Henry VII’s future depended upon the relationship that she and Arthur were able to build.
Both royal children were highly educated and therefore fully aware of the expectations of a semi-public life. Their betrothal had been in place since they were young children. When they did meet, the language barrier led to some comedy as they resorted to speaking Latin; but Arthur’s surviving letters to Catherine suggest his determination to do everything possible to love his new wife and make her life in England a success. After less than two months, the Spanish entourage left behind the bustle of London and headed for Prince Arthur’s domain on the Welsh Marches.
The king had already paid to upgrade the Duke of York’s house in Bewdley, Tickenhill Palace as a comfortable private home for his son and daughter-in-law. Their official residence and the seat of Arthur’s marcher government, however, was the more imposing Ludlow Castle. The newlyweds probably arrived there in mid-December 1501. Celebrating Christmas, New Year and Twelfth Night as Prince and Princess of Wales in their own country must have made this a period filled with happiness and optimism. The arrival of Catherine’s large Spanish household also must have been a spectacular and unusual sight in the small Shropshire town. Arthur wrote to Ferdinand and Isabella expressing the joy he felt at seeing the face of his sweet bride. The only news that could have delighted the royal parents more would have been to hear that Catherine was pregnant.
A marriage consummated?
Proclaiming the fertility of the next generation of Tudor rulers would have boosted Henry VII as his kingship entered a new phase with the deaths and retirements of his old friends and allies after 1500. Catherine did not, however, become pregnant. In 1527–28, during the evidence-gathering for the annulment of her marriage to Henry VIII, she was adamant in her assertion that she was still a virgin at Arthur’s death. Shyness and exhaustion might have explained why nothing happened on the wedding night, but the couple had time to become intimate during a less-hectic life in Ludlow over the winter of 1501–02.
A generation later, the bawdy evidence of how Arthur greeted his friends on the morning after his wedding sounds like the well-rehearsed tale of a teenager trying to impress. The prince emerged from his chamber and called servant Anthony Willoughby over with the words: “Willoughby, bring me a cup of ale, for I have been this night in the midst of Spain.” Then to all of the others present: “Masters, it is good pastime to have a wife.”
Other lords like Thomas Grey, 2nd Marquess of Dorset, recalled having seen Catherine awaiting Arthur under the bedclothes during the previous evening’s bedding ceremony. He then noted Arthur’s “good and sanguine” complexion the next day. Willoughby, too, believed Arthur and Catherine had lain together as man and wife at Ludlow until Arthur became fatally ill at Easter 1502. Sir William Thomas, a groom of the prince’s privy chamber, revealed how he had many times escorted Arthur to Catherine’s room and collected him again in the morning.
While other evidence suggests the frequency of their contact, only Catherine and Arthur would have known what went on behind the bedroom door. Even if there was a possibility that, at the start of their life together, Arthur was unsure exactly of what his duty as a husband entailed, that would surely have been corrected over time; unless, of course, there was some medical reason why he was unable to make his wife pregnant. Arthur’s premature death on 2 April 1502 probably resulted from a regional outbreak of sweating sickness, and there is a possibility that he succumbed where others survived because of an existing health issue. Reports of his role in the Maundy Thursday service on 24 March 1502, however, give no indication of debility or weakness. So his death was unexpectedly sudden.
Catherine’s testimony was a powerful factor. A solemn oath carried great weight, even if she was searching her memory of events at the start of the 16th century. Given the intensity of her first few months in a foreign country, it is unlikely that she would have forgotten such details.
- Read more: Catherine of Aragon: Spain’s Virgin queen?
The five months that Catherine and Arthur spent together in 1501–02 must have created intense memories for Catherine. For Henry VII’s other surviving son, Henry, Prince Arthur perhaps stirred different recollections. Henry VIII’s divorce of Catherine was secured without the truth of events in his brother’s marriage-bed being established. By 1530, the need to know the intimate details of Catherine’s first marriage forced Henry VIII to think deeply about his dead brother.
Arthur and Henry were alive together for only 11 years. As duke of York, Prince Henry was mindful that all of his father’s attention was diverted towards preparing Arthur to rule. Prince Henry stayed around the royal household and during Arthur’s life he received little training for a role as a loyal supporter of his brother’s future reign. Arthur’s residence at Ludlow meant that they met only at state occasions and probably a few other unrecorded times. Arthur seems to have shouldered the burdens of personal rule from an early age, whereas Henry used his charm and attractiveness to master the social side of courtly life. That trained Henry to be a political manipulator, but did little to involve him in the mechanics of government before his brother’s death. By then, Henry’s love of the good things about court and household was deeply engrained. Yet, as Prince Henry entered his teenage years, his father had to force him into a new role as Prince of Wales, with all the responsibilities that went with it. Arthur’s death came as the king’s old friends were also beginning to die off. These personal losses created the pressure to expand the Tudor royal family – something that led directly to the death of Queen Elizabeth in childbirth on her 37th birthday, 11 February 1503.
We cannot know if the 11-year-old child Henry somehow blamed Arthur for the change in his circumstances or for the death of their mother. A manuscript illustration recently identified in the National Library of Wales (Vaux Passional, Peniarth MS 482D) shows the court in mourning for the queen, with a young Prince Henry sobbing separately in the background. A few years later, Henry would have realised that he could not have become king had his brother lived a healthy adult life; so his feelings, eventually, must have been mixed. Henry kept Arthur’s portrait and some of his books and clothes but also maintained a lifelong fear of infectious disease. He seems to have loved Arthur deeply, but more as a memory of princely virtue than as an elder sibling with whom he had shared any childhood time. The nature of Arthur’s sudden death preyed on Henry’s mind the longer he went without a male heir. That failure was a major factor in the annulment of Henry’s marriage to Queen Catherine.
Henry had followed in Arthur’s footsteps as second son, second Prince of Wales, and from 11 June 1509, second husband to Catherine of Aragon. Whatever he learned about Arthur’s character surely came through conversations after 1502 with Catherine and others who had known Arthur in the Welsh Marches. His own memories of his brother must have been limited and idealised. Arthur probably remained a mysterious figure to the second Tudor king, but he was a prince whose short life had a profound impact upon England’s subsequent history.
Dr Sean Cunningham is head of medieval records at the UK National Archives. His main interest is in British history in the period c1450–1558. Sean has published many pieces on politics, society and warfare, especially in the early Tudor period, including a biography Henry VII (Routledge 2007) and a study, Prince Arthur: The Tudor King Who Never Was, in 2017.
This article was first published by HistoryExtra in April 2017.
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