Henry VIII – Page 2 – CAROLINE ANGUS

Wolf Hall 2: The Mirror and the Light – Did Thomas Cromwell attack the Duke of Norfolk over Cardinal Bainbridge’s Murder?

Published on December 10, 2024 by Caroline Angus2 Comments

Norfolk and Gardiner – BBC/Playground Entertainment/Nick Briggs

Welcome to another installment of the details behind Wolf Hall 2: The Mirror and the Light. Thomas Cromwell’s fall from grace has long been seen as a sudden act – one minute he is being made the Earl of Essex, next he is dead, all because King Henry thought Anna of Cleves was ugly. None of that is true, and The Mirror and the Light shows the pivotal moment where Cromwell’s fall began, a full year before his death. However, the truth of the event is very different to what is shown onscreen.

In The Mirror and the Light episode 4, we see Cromwell at a banquet dinner held at Lambeth Palace by Archbishop Cranmer. All of the Privy Council attend, and Bishop Stephen Gardiner decides to stir up trouble by discussing the murder of Cardinal Bainbridge, talking of how he was poisoned by a priest, but instead veers into fantasy land and suggests Cromwell was the killer. Cromwell lashes out at Norfolk, who is off on another tangent complaining about how Cromwell isn’t good enough to be a nobleman, and conspires against everyone. This scene is a good show of research on Cromwell’s life, but bears no resemblance to the truth.

In 1514, Thomas Cromwell went to Rome, one of several trips he took during the decade, working on behalf of a private legal client to argue the Stratford Langthorne tithe dispute. Having seen the ‘factions and manners’ of the Italians for years, and able to speak fluent Italian and Latin, Cromwell was perfect for the job. In Rome, Cromwell stayed at the English Hospice, San Tommaso di Canterbury. The English Hospice at via Monserrato 45 (now The Venerable English College), sat a block from the Tiber river, and a two-mile walk to the Apostolic Palace. The hostel had been catering to English pilgrims to Rome for almost 200 years, and after renovation and reorganisation by King Henry VII, became an important hub for English diplomats visiting the city.

On his May stay, Cromwell met Lancelot Collins, nephew to the hospice’s master Cardinal Christopher Bainbridge, Archbishop of York, and resident English cardinal in Rome. This meeting between Cromwell and Collins would spark another genuine lifelong friendship, with Collins considered one of the kindest and most generous men in England by even cynical men. Collins valued his friendship with Cromwell for over twenty years, even when, in later life, it would threaten his safety. But Cromwell had already left Rome by 14 July 1514 when Cardinal Bainbridge was poisoned by Rinaldo de Modena, one of Bainbridge’s chaplains, and rumoured lover who had suffered a beating from the cardinal. When interrogated, Modena confessed to planning the murder with Silvester de Gigli of Lucca, Bishop of Worcester and English ambassador in Rome, however, Modena was soon murdered in prison. Bainbridge’s executors, Richard Pace and John Clerk, wanted Gigli arrested for his part in the death, but Gigli swore that Modena was insane, and no charges were brought in Rome or in England. Either way, Gigli was not charged and he died himself a few years later. Absolutely nothing in the case had anything to do with Cromwell or Wolsey.

Back to 1539, on 2 July, King Henry, already off on progress, commanded Archbishop Cranmer to host a banquet at Lambeth Palace, with both sides of the religious divide ordered to attend, as everyone remained in London. Henry did not attend, but Cromwell, starting to return to health after three full months, could attend his first public occasion. The banquet would go down in infamy. As a man freshly recovered from a torturous illness, Cromwell was far from the calculating, charming man he portrayed at court. Cranmer’s secretary Ralph Morice recorded the evening, which formed the basis of John Foxe’s later book detailing the event. Cromwell and Cranmer were warmest friends and allies, two leaders of the Reformation in England. Morice recalled a rarely recorded argument between the pair. Cromwell muttered to Cranmer:

‘you were born at a happy hour, for do or say what you, the King will always take it well at your hand. And I must needs confess that in some things I have complained of you unto His Majesty, but all in vain, for he will never give credit against you, whatsoever is laid to your charge, but let me or any other of the Council be complained of, his Grace will most seriously chide and fall out with us.’

Whether this uncommon, disrespectful, and candid complaint came before or after the main fireworks is unknown, as Cromwell again made a scene, publicly fighting with the ever-present, ever-meddling, Duke of Norfolk. Norfolk gave a speech about King Henry’s love for Cranmer, and compared Cranmer to Wolsey, calling Wolsey ‘a churlish prelate … who could never abide a nobleman … you know well enough Lord Crumwell, for he was your master …’ Morice then put down his quill, unwilling to record the awful things Norfolk insinuated about Wolsey and Cromwell. Cromwell, only just out of his sickbed, and already surrounded by enemies and a tense meeting of religious views, stood up to defend Wolsey. Cromwell told the room he did not regret his time with Wolsey, well-paid and well-provided for during their six-year friendship. Cromwell then roundly turned against Norfolk, giving him a caustic sixteenth-century dressing down, among other things, saying:

‘I was never so far in love with (Wolsey) as to have waited upon him in Rome if he had been chosen Pope, as I understand (Norfolk) would have done’.

The exchange does not sound hostile now, but it implied Norfolk was prepared to serve the Catholic faith and the Pope over his king, which would be treason. Norfolk bellowed a denial to the claim. Cromwell, through a lack of manners and a vast memory, told everyone Norfolk received 50,000 florins to transport Wolsey to Rome in 1523 when Wolsey was in place to become the Pope. The florins were proof of Norfolk’s plan to go to Rome with Wolsey. While Cranmer and others at the banquet diffused the screaming match, which was unquestionably complemented by bountiful wine and strong egos, the match had been lit between the men. Neither needed to wear the mask of courtesy again, as the peers of the realm had seen and heard all. Cromwell did not know it, but this banquet was the beginning of his ultimate downfall. The illness he suffered that caused him to miss the parliamentary session and the passing of the Six Articles would cause Cromwell to make numerous mistakes

All sources come from The Private Life of Thomas Cromwell. My publisher might come for you if you plagiarise.

Wolf Hall 2: The Mirror and the Light – Did Thomas Cromwell have feelings for Jane Seymour?

Published on December 4, 2024 by Caroline AngusLeave a comment

Screenshot from The Mirror and Light episode 4

Welcome to part 3 of Wolf Hall 2: The Mirror and the Light recap of the facts around Thomas Cromwell and the events in season 2, where Jane has given birth to Prince Edward.

Did Thomas Cromwell have feelings for Jane Seymour? This is a question that is impossible to answer. There is absolutely no evidence of any link between Thomas Cromwell and Jane Seymour, and (in my opinion) is a delightful fictional addition to Cromwell’s life story to add drama to a book/show. Those of us who work in Cromwell fiction need to add romantic details, because simply, Cromwell had none in his own life. I’m working on another Cromwell fiction myself at the moment, and there is again zero source evidence to work with. Nothing in Italy, nothing in the Low Countries, and then a marriage to Elizabeth Wyckes which was simply a convenience when she became a widow and they met through Morgan Williams (Richard Cromwell’s father). By all accounts, Cromwell and his wife were happy enough, but after she died, (apart from the quick grief rebound he had with ‘Elizabeth Gregory’), Cromwell never looked to any woman again. He was not a man into women at all.

At no stage was Cromwell ever rumoured to be in negotiations for a wife at any stage, and there were never any mistresses whispered about either. The lies about him being interested in Princess Mary and Margaret Douglas (I will do a sperate post on those rumours) bore no evidence, and if Cromwell ever muttered anything about Jane Seymour or anyone else, we simply don’t know. It does make for convenient fiction, though.

As for Jane Seymour, she was very limited in her options as well. Only one mention of a match comes up in Cromwell’s records, as a possible match for her, when Cromwell wrote (italics mine), ‘To speak with the King for Mr. Seymour’s daughter (Jane?) for (Sir Richard?) Elderton’ on 16 November 1532. Sir Richard Elrington, (often misspelled Elderton, and sometimes listed as Ralph) was the brother Edward Elrington, who had married one of the distant Seymour cousins, Grace (surname unknown), the illegitimate wealthy heiress of London Lord Mayor Thomas Seymour. Sir Richard/Ralph was twenty years older than Jane Seymour, which tracks with the astonishingly bad marriage made for Jane’s sister Elizabeth. Luckily for Jane, the marriage was never mentioned again.

Rumours of a marriage negotiations between Jane and Sir William Dormer came up in 1534, which the Dormer family quickly quashed. Sir William Dormer worked for Cromwell and went on work in royal service and parliament, and was married to Lady Mary Sidney in 1534, putting an end to overtures made by the Seymour family. Sir William’s sister Lady Jane Dormer recounted the negotiations in her autobiography that the Dormers did not wish to be linked to a scandalous family like the Seymours (meaning the scandal of Edward Seymour’s first wife cuckolding her husband twice with sons of unknown parentage).

Jane came to King Henry’s attention in late 1535 after the death of her father, who Henry had visited only months earlier on progress to Wolf Hall (his death is mistakenly listed as 1536). Edward Seymour was in the royal privy chambers by this stage, and the single Seymour sister was suddenly thrust into the royal marriage spotlight when Anne Boleyn lost her third child in January 1536.

Much like Thomas Cromwell, Jane Seymour’s romantic interests, or lack thereof, were never recorded. Marriages were rarely made in the interests of attraction to one another, making the king rare in his rash choices of some of his wives. Any kind of romantic overtures, those from men towards certain women were mentioned in letters from time to time, but women’s feelings generally go unnoticed. The people of the Tudor court were human, they would have had feelings of romance, lust, romance, affection like everyone else. But many didn’t have the financial security of being able to act on their feelings, and women’s feelings, to the men of court, didn’t seem to exist or matter at all.

As for whether Jane Seymour discussed having to handle sex with King Henry with Cromwell is entirely conjecture (but Cromwell did have an uncomfortable conversation with Anne of Cleves, so it’s not impossible). Jane’s sex life was unfortunately a public topic, as an heir meant everything to the court. Jane didn’t get pregnant until January 1537, a long time to wait with a king who was desperate for a son but no good in bed. Poor Jane indeed.

Cromwell was writing to discuss new brides for King Henry on 27 October, three days after her death. For all Henry’s kind words for Jane, and admiration for Prince Edward, there were mere days between Jane’s death and handling the security of the realm. By Christmas 1537, Cromwell had a suitable lists of brides from French princess to Dutch and German duchesses, and ready to discuss negotiations. King Henry did not need to be cajoled into these negotiations, he initiated them at every stage.

All sources from The Private life of Thomas Cromwell, The Letters and Remembrances of Thomas Cromwell, and Planning the Murder of Anne Boleyn

BOOK REVIEW: Anne Boleyn & Elizabeth I – The Mother and Daughter Who Changed History by Tracy Borman

Published on April 23, 2024 by Caroline AngusLeave a comment

Anne Boleyn may be best known for losing her head, but as Tudor expert Tracy Borman reveals in a book that recasts British history, her greatest legacy lies in the path-breaking reign of her daughter, ElizabethMuch of the fascination with Britain’s legendary Tudors centers around the dramas surrounding Henry VIII and his six wives and Elizabeth I’s rumored liaisons. Yet the most fascinating relationship in that historic era may well be that between the mother and daughter who, individually and collectively, changed the course of British history.

The future Queen Elizabeth was not yet three when her mother, Anne Boleyn, was beheaded on May 19, 1536, on Henry’s order, incensed that she had not given him a son and tired of her contentious nature. Elizabeth had been raised away from court, rarely even seeing Anne; and after her death, Henry tried in every way to erase Anne’s presence and memory. At that moment in history, few could have predicted that mother and daughter would each leave enduring, and interlocked, legacies. Yet as Tracy Borman reveals in this first-ever joint portrait, both women broke the mold for British queens and for women in general at the time. Anne was instrumental in reforming and reshaping forever Britain’s religious traditions, and her years of wielding power over a male-dominated court provided an inspiring role model for Elizabeth’s glittering, groundbreaking 45-year reign. Indeed, Borman shows how much Elizabeth–most visibly by refusing to ever marry, but in many other more subtle ways that defined her court–was influenced by her mother’s legacy.

In its originality, Anne Boleyn & Elizabeth I sheds new light on two of history’s most famous women–the private desires, hopes, and fears that lay behind their dazzling public personas, and the surprising influence each had on the other during and after their lifetimes. In the process, Tracy Borman reframes our understanding of the entire Tudor era.

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In Anne Boleyn and Queen Elizabeth I: The Mother and Daughter Who Changed History, Tracy Borman offers a captivating exploration of the complex and enduring long-distance relationship between two of the most iconic figures in English history. This work delves into the intertwined lives of Anne Boleyn, the ill-fated second wife of Henry VIII, and their daughter Queen Elizabeth I, one of England’s most celebrated monarchs.

Borman begins by providing an essential background on Anne Boleyn in her classic style of bringing out details others tend to miss, tracing Anne’s rise from a young courtier to Henry VIII’s queen consort. With meticulous attention to detail, the author paints a vivid portrait of Anne’s intelligence, charm, and ambition, as well as the political and religious forces that shaped her life. By exploring Anne’s influence on Henry and her role in the English Reformation, the author sets the stage for understanding her impact on her daughter, Elizabeth.

The heart of the book lies in the examination of the relationship between Anne Boleyn and Queen Elizabeth I, given they knew one another for less than three years. Borman delves into how Anne’s brief but tumultuous reign left a lasting imprint on her daughter, shaping her personality, her politics, and her approach to governance. Through meticulous analysis of historical records and contemporary accounts, the author uncovers how Elizabeth both emulated and distanced herself from her mother’s legacy.

One of the most fascinating aspects of the book is its exploration of Elizabeth’s upbringing and education. The author discusses how Elizabeth’s early years were marked by uncertainty and danger, as she navigated the treacherous political landscape of Tudor England. By examining the influence of Anne’s teachings and example on her daughter, the author offers valuable insights into Elizabeth’s development as a ruler and a woman.

Anne Boleyn and Queen Elizabeth I sheds light on the ways in which Elizabeth’s reign was shaped by her mother’s memory. Borman explores how Elizabeth used Anne’s legacy to her advantage, presenting herself as the rightful heir to the Tudor dynasty and emphasizing her connection to her mother’s royal lineage. Through careful analysis of Elizabeth’s speeches, portraits, and public persona, the author reveals how Anne’s ghost haunted and helped the Elizabethan court.

Anne Boleyn and Queen Elizabeth I is a captivating exploration of the enduring influence of Anne Boleyn on her daughter, Queen Elizabeth I. Borman’s engaging prose makes this book a must-read for anyone interested in Tudor history, the lives of remarkable women, or the dynamics of power and politics in early modern Europe. It is a pleasure to read about such powerful women, written by a masterful female author.

HENRY VIII’S CHILDREN – PART 5: Etheldreda Malte

Published on May 10, 2023May 9, 2023 by Caroline Angus2 Comments

PART 5: ETHELDREDA MALTE

This portrait painted in the 1550s, was once considered to be Queen Mary

Among the women King Henry VIII is thought to have bedded, few stand out; but of those thought to have become pregnant, one was listed as a royal laundress. What did persist was the suggestion that Henry fathered a daughter named Etheldreda Malte. King Henry had his pick of women at court and had no reason to keep his indiscretions and choices a secret. So why did Etheldreda’s mother’s name get lost among the bevvy of women unfortunately remembered as royal mistresses? A daughter born to a laundress would have been forgotten, and yet the baby of this rumoured affair instead lived her life in the orbit of her supposed half-sister Queen Elizabeth.

The window between 1525-1535 is littered with supposed affairs between King Henry and ‘forgettable’ women, among them Joan (or Jane or Joanna) Dingley alias Dobson. Dingley was a common name at court among the lesser-ranked members right through to those working in the privy chamber. Sir John Moore, from the merchant hub of Dunclent (also spelt Dunkelyn, Douklin or Dobson) in Worcestershire, had a daughter named Joan (or Jane), who married James Dingley at a young age in the mid-1520s, but James died soon after. Later rumours claimed Joan ‘met’ King Henry, and Etheldreda (or Audrey) was born in the late 1520s, and the Moore and Dingley families remained working quietly at court.

A man of a similar social standing as Joan Dingley was John Malte, the king’s tailor. By 1530, Malte was doing well in the king’s household, and by the mid-1540s had been lavished with manors and lands far beyond what a servant could expect, earning thousands from the leases granted to him while he designed, created, and finished King Henry’s attire. But in January 1547, as Henry was aware of his failing health, he finalised a 1,312l 12d (over £550,000 today) gift of lands, manors, and livestock to ‘John and Etheldred Malte, alias Dyngley, bastard daughter of the said John Malte and Joan Dyngley alias Dobson’. The fine lands and grants were for Etheldreda and her heirs, not for Malte’s sons.

King Henry had ordered Malte to ensure Etheldreda’s education, and she married Sir John Harington of Stepney, an attendant of Sir Thomas Seymour, and then the Grey family while Etheldreda served Princess Elizabeth, including spending time in The Tower with her during Queen Mary’s reign. Etheldreda remained close to Elizabeth only to die just months after seeing her alleged half-sister be crowned queen in 1559.

Up next, the making of Henry Fitzroy, Wannabe King of the North

HENRY VIII’S CHILDREN: Part 4 – The Many Illegitimate Sons

Published on May 9, 2023 by Caroline AngusLeave a comment

Ahead of the release of Henry VIII’s Children: Legitimate and Illegitimate Sons and Daughters of the Tudor King on 30 May (Pen & Sword Currently have a 30% off special throughout May), I am doing a 15-part series on some of the smaller, lesser-known details that are covered in the book. These details played out in the background of the defining moments of the lives of each of Henry’s children. Here is a tiny snippet of each of the men who claimed (or were later claimed) to be the sons of Henry VIII. Many men claimed to be illegitimate sons of Henry VIII, for assorted reasons. As with claims made by others through the centuries, the information is impossible to verify, just assertions made by bold men in return for favour or protection.

PART 4: THE ILLEGITIMATE SONS

John Perrot

Perrot was born in the second week of November 1528, likely at Haroldston manor in Pembrokeshire, Wales.24 Perrot’s mother was Mary Berkeley of Thornbury, Gloucestershire, daughter of Thomas Berkeley and Susan FitzAlan. Mary Berkeley lived as a ward with her uncle Maurice Baron Berkeley, alongside another ward Thomas Perrot, son of Sir Thomas Perrot and Lady Katherine Poyntz. Fellow wards Thomas and Mary married at a noticeably young age and lived in Pembrokeshire, with their daughters Jane and Elizabeth when baby John was born in 1528. Assertions have been made that Mary Berkeley was a lady-in-waiting to Katherine of Aragon, yet there is no evidence to prove this. The Berkeley/FitzAlan families were prestigious and well-connected families in England and Ireland, while the Perrot men fought at the Battle of Flodden and were wealthy Welsh landowners. John Perrot would go on to live at court and in noble circles in Henry VIII, Edward VI, and Elizabeth I’s reigns, spend time in control of parts of Wales and Ireland under Queen Elizabeth’s and lead a dramatic royal life.

Thomas Stuckeley

Despite the rumours of the king and the Boleyn sisters, many others were put forward as possible lovers of the king, one such lady being Jane Pollard. By 1525, Jane had married Sir Hugh Stukeley and was almost thirty years of age. Sir Hugh and Lady Jane had ten children, five sons and five daughters, however, with sketchy details, the birth order of the children is hard to judge. Their marriage went ahead around 1512, with their youngest son born in 1529. Thomas Stuckeley was roughly the middle child of this surprisingly healthy large family, with all ten children living until adulthood. Jane Pollard herself was one of eleven children and had married well into a high-ranking family. Hugh Stukeley’s father Sir Thomas was the eldest of seven, had been Knight of the Body to King Henry in 1516, and had inherited the vast glamourous estate of Affeton in Devonshire. Sir Hugh and Lady Jane certainly had the family connections to move in royal circles, and Affeton was a home fine enough to host the king and many nobles, including the respected and beloved Courtenays.

Her son Thomas Stuckeley worked for Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk under Henry VIII, and then went on to lie, cheat and swindle his way through Edward VI, King Henri of France, Mary I, Elizabeth I, Holy Roman Emperor Philip, and Pope Gregory, before disappearing alongside King Sebastian of Portugal during a battle in Morroco.

Richard Edwardes

Edwardes was born in North Petherton, Somerset in 1525, to William Edwardes and his wife Agnes Blewitt. The legends say King Henry visited hunting grounds and met Agnes, who cannot have been more than fifteen in 1525, and fathered her child. The trouble with the theory is that King Henry did not travel on progress anywhere near Somerset in the 1523-1525 window in which Agnes gave birth. Agnes was not a lady at the royal court. A tale that King Henry paid Agnes a stipend for her baby’s education is similarly nothing but theory.

Agnes’ son Richard Edwardes grew up in North Petherton before attending Oxford in 1540, studying under George Etheridge, becoming a fellow in 1544 and joining Christ Church College Oxford in 1546. But Edwardes’ talents lay in composing, poetry, and writing plays, and joined the Chapel Royal in 1557. A life at court writing now-famous and Shakespeare-inspiring plays, and composing music for Queen Elizabeth I saw Edwardes happy and successful, only for him to die right before receiving a substantial gift from the queen now rumoured to be his sister.

Henry Lee

One of the more unusual claims was yet another son named Henry, this child born in 1533-1534. This child was born at a time when King Henry was married to Anne Boleyn and their daughter Princess Elizabeth had just been born. Baby Henry’s father, Sir Anthony Lee was an attendant to Thomas Cromwell, who married Lady Margaret Wyatt, daughter of Cromwell’s dear friend Sir Henry Wyatt. The pair likely met as Margaret Wyatt was close to Thomas Cromwell, and she spent time with him and his wife before her marriage, and again in later years when her husband was in prison. But Margaret Wyatt, Margaret Lee after marrying in 1532, was a lady-in-waiting for Anne Boleyn, albeit a quiet woman. Margaret would have spent much time at court, well within King Henry’s sights.

Henry Lee lived a reasonably quiet life among his educated circle of family and friends as he worked in parliament, and rose to become Queen Elizabeth’s Champion in 1570, at the age of fifty-seven. Henry remained close to the queen for another twenty years before doing the one thing almost no one (except his grandfather Henry Wyatt) did in a Tudor court – retire happy in old age.

Up next – Etheldreda Malte