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

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

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.

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

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 short introduction to Etheldreda Malte, daughter of the king.

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

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

HENRY VIII’S CHILDREN: Part 3 – The Carey Children

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 snippet of the story of Mary Boleyn’s children.

PART 3 – THE CAREY CHILDREN


Of the handful of illegitimate children ascribed to King Henry’s name, Catherine Carey holds the greatest claim. Yet even then, the story of her parentage is as flimsy as the evidence for King Henry’s involvement with Catherine’s mother. Mary Boleyn is well-known as a mistress to the king; a tale so often told it gives rise to its own common myths and tropes. Mary returned home from her time in France and was married to William Carey in February 1520. Many theories on how King Henry and then embarked on an affair with Mary are based entirely on hearsay and fiction. 

Lady Mary Boleyn, also known as Lady Carey, via wikimedia commons

What is certain is by early 1524, Mary Boleyn gave birth to Catherine. But Mary was married, and naturally, baby Catherine was attributed to William Carey, and despite later slander, no one at the time suspected auburn-haired Catherine to be the king’s daughter. Catherine Carey’s birth came at a time when King Henry was increasingly anxious about the royal succession, and the birth of auburn-haired Henry Carey, likely in early 1526, only made things more complicated.

Catherine and her brother Henry likely lived with their parents during their early years; William Carey was granted the borough of Buckingham in February 1526, in a specific entail that stipulated the land could only be inherited by all ‘lawfully begotten’ heirs. By this time, Mary and King Henry had likely given up any potential relationship. Life for young Catherine Carey was like any of the period, until the sweating sickness outbreak, when William Carey suddenly died on 22 June 1528. Catherine probably stayed with her mother Mary after Carey’s death, while Henry Carey went to live in Anne Boleyn’s care, now she was the Boleyn in the king’s affections.

Despite the Boleyn family’s standing, Catherine Carey’s early life is a mystery. Young when her aunt was queen, her movements and life go unrecorded, though when her mother Mary married Sir William Stafford and fell pregnant in 1534, Catherine likely lived either in Calais, where soldier Stafford was stationed, or at the various estates in Staffordshire owned by Stafford’s noble father. Mary and her new husband were quiet during the execution of Anne Boleyn, but in late 1539, Thomas Cromwell invited Mary and young Catherine to court to meet Anna of Cleves. Catherine was given a place in Anna of Cleves’ household at court, as short-lived as it would be. Catherine used the time wisely; by 26 April 1540, sixteen-year-old Catherine married Francis Knollys, who had been drafted into the gentlemen-pensioners with Catherine’s father. 

Catherine transferred to new Queen Katheryn Howard’s household in late 1540, only to leave and embark on a family Henry VIII could have only dreamed of – sixteen children born over twenty-two years. After her marriage, an act of parliament ensured Francis Knollys’ lands were jointly in Catherine’s name, and soon after, Mary Knollys was born. A year later came Henry Knollys, followed Lettice, William, and Edward by 1547, who lived between their estates at Rotherfield Greys in Oxfordshire and Reading in Berkshire when not in London.

Being married to a staunch Protestant, Catherine was well-placed when Edward VI took the throne. Francis Knollys did well, being knighted in 1547 for his work against Scotland, aided William Cecil in religious changes, and by the time King Edward died in 1553, was already well-endowed with lands and estates. These came in useful, as Robert, Richard, Elizabeth, Maud, Thomas, and Francis the younger were been born to Catherine during King Edward’s reign, many with the rich auburn hair of the Tudors. But darker times soon befell Catherine when Queen Mary took the throne, leaving Protestants like herself at Mary’s mercy. Princess Elizabeth penned a sad goodbye to Catherine just before she, Francis, and their children left England for the safety of Germany during Mary’s reign.

Catherine and Francis Knollys needed to relocate to Frankfurt, and this period of instability gave Catherine a break from childbirth; she had given birth every year since she had married, so unless unfortunate miscarriages occurred, she was likely apart from her husband at times, before giving birth to Anne in 1555. Catherine then joined Francis in Germany, taking only five of her children, forced to leave the rest behind, probably at Rotherfield Greys.

Catherine Carey, Lady Knollys, via wikimedia commons

Catherine’s husband Francis did well among the Protestants in Germany,  before returning to England on the death of Queen Mary in November 1558. The following month, Catherine moved into Queen Elizabeth’s household as Chief Lady of the Bedchamber, the most senior lady-in-waiting. Francis was admitted to the Privy Council as Queen Elizabeth took power. As soon as Catherine was safe back in England with her husband at court, the yearly pregnancies returned, with daughters born in successive years, Catherine, Cecily, Margaret, and then Dudley Knollys, though Dudley did not survive long after birth. Thankfully, Catherine was never again recorded as pregnant, though her remaining surviving portrait shows her pregnant, likely with Dudley. Their comfortable and favoured lives continued in relative peace throughout the 1560s with Catherine as head of Elizabeth’s chamber, but she fell ill and died on 15 January 1569 at Hampton Court Palace.

Henry Carey, born on 4 March 1526, had a similarly obscure upbringing as his sister Catherine. He likely lived with his family until his father’s death in 1528 and became a ward of Anne Boleyn, who placed him in a Cistercian monastery to be educated. He did benefit from the tutoring of French scholar Nicholas Bourbon in 1535, but other than that, his life goes unrecorded. Despite the pedigree the Carey household had through their Beaufort/Spencer lineage (William Carey’s aunt was Countess of Northumberland), it seems as if the Carey family quickly forgot Henry and his sister Catherine after William Carey’s death. These details only fuel speculation about their true parentage. As all monasteries were closed by 1540, Henry Carey could have been placed in any number of households, possibly even Princess Elizabeth’s. He was not forgotten; his sister was a noblewoman, and in 1545, he married Anne Morgan, granddaughter of Blanche Milbourne, Lady Troy, one of Princess Elizabeth’s early governesses. His wife’s aunt, Blanche Parry, also spent time serving Princess Elizabeth.

Henry Carey, Baron Hunsdon, via wikimedia commons

Henry Carey was selected for parliament in 1547 under King Edward and again in 1554-5 under Queen Mary, suggesting he had moderate religious views and obeyed the constantly changing religious rules. As soon as Elizabeth became queen in November 1558, she knighted her cousin Henry Carey and made him a baron after her coronation a few months later. Elizabeth gave Carey her manor at Hunsdon, which had been a home belonging to Queen Mary only months earlier, and where Elizabeth (and possibly Henry Carey himself) spent much time growing up. Carey also gained lands in multiple locations, a pension, a court role, and became a Knight of the Garter. They clearly knew each other very well.

 Decade after decade, Carey served his queen, including facing off against rebellions and possible invasions of England. His wife Anne gave him thirteen children, with illegitimate children also born to Carey through the years. But Henry Carey fell ill in July 1596 and died at Somerset House on The Strand in London. Queen Elizabeth offered Henry Carey the earldom of Ormond on his deathbed, a title once belonging to their shared grandfather Thomas Boleyn, but Carey declined.

The families of Catherine and Henry Carey ensured the family line with dozens of children. Whether they secretly carried on Henry VIII’s bloodline, while his legitimate children could not, is entirely a matter of conjecture. Even if the rumours were untrue, the Carey children and grandchildren had strikingly similar looks to Queen Elizabeth, so perhaps it was the Boleyn genes that prevailed over the Tudors. After all, it is not a descendant of Henry VIII who sits on the English throne today, but a descendant of Mary Boleyn, in King Charles III.