Would Katherine Parr really have had pre-marital sex with Seymour?

Posted on March 21, 2016March 21, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

I do enjoy a good Philippa Gregory novel. Not only does her poetic style really bring the historical characters to life, but she clearly makes a monumental effort to research her subjects – even if her interpretation often differs from mine.

Currently I’m having a good time wading through her epic novel on Katherine Parr, sixth and final wife of Henry VIII. It’s a great read, but within the first few pages I was already growing a tad concerned about some misunderstandings that were no doubt bound to influence people’s understanding of the great Queen Consort. For, in the very earliest part of the book, she has given herself to Thomas Seymour in body as well as heart.

Fans of Katherine Parr will know that Thomas Seymour did indeed become her husband, after the ultimate demise of Henry VIII. There was also certainly some kind of mutual attraction and discussion of marriage prior to Katherine’s elevation to Queen. But for me, the suggestion that she would have been foolish enough to have slept with him in 1543 is a bridge too far.

Here’s why:

Discovery would have risked everything – In the Tudor court people gossiped. Would Katherine really have risked this destruction of her reputation, especially if she had already got wind of the fact that the King was after her?
She was a woman of virtue – Gregory’s Katherine is a woman who is not much-bothered by religion prior to her marriage to Henry. It’s fair to say that people used to think her devout Protestantism was something that developed later, but most historians now think that her conversion had taken place before 1543. It is unlikely that she would have so easily surrendered to a man in defiance of God’s will.
She would have been scared of pregnancy – Contraception was not exactly top-notch in Tudor times. Katherine knew that if she fell pregnant it would have been game over for her place in society.
She didn’t get pregnant – “Ah-ha”, I hear some of you say in response to my point above. “Perhaps Katherine didn’t fear pregnancy because after two childless marriages she believed she couldn’t actually get pregnant.” This is possible; some contemporaries did speculate that she was infertile so it’s not impossible that she believed that herself. But she was probably realistic enough to put that down to first being married to a sickly teenager and then to a much older man. Besides, even if she had believed this, we all know that when she did eventually marry Seymour, she conceived rather quickly. The fact that she did not fall pregnant in 1543 argues against a relationship of heated sexual congress.

All this being said, I have to recognise that when it came to Seymour, Katherine did lose her often level-headed outlook. Her passion for him was such that she married him with unseemly haste after Henry VIII’s demise, and at risk to her reputation. The circumstances though were different and Katherine knew it was her last shot at happiness and I don’t think this consideration can override those I have outlined above.

Where does this leave us? Simple: read Philippa Gregory’s ‘The Taming of the Queen’ by all means, but read some historical biographies about Katherine as well. That way you can get all the entertainment necessary to storytelling, as well as being sure that you’re across the facts.

I recommend the following:

Katherine the Queen by Linda Porter

Six Wives: The Queens of Henry VIII by David Starkey

The Six Wives of Henry VIII by Alison Weir

Could Catherine of Aragon have saved her daughter from illegitimacy?

Posted on March 17, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

Unlike my teenage self, I’m not too quick to defend Henry VIII. I used to – perhaps somewhat precociously – try and convince my history teacher that his savage treatment of his wives could be justified by his fear of a ‘war of the roses relapse.’ While I don’t discount this argument entirely, I no longer believe it provides the late king with a blank cheque of justification.

So when it comes to his divorce of Catherine of Aragon, I tend to side with the wronged woman. As I’ve blogged recently, I believe her when she says she entered her marriage to Henry a virgin, the crux of his case to obtain a divorce.

Catherine went to her grave maintaining that she remained both Henry’s true wife and the Queen of England. This has often been deemed to be a sure sign of her grit, determination and noble perseverance. I believe it was all of those things. But it was also a radical display of pride.

I doubt there’s anything Catherine could have done to save herself, but the question I’m really interested in is – could she have cast her pride aside in the interest of saving her only child?

Let’s recap for a minute. Henry and Catherine had just one child who survived infancy, the Princess Mary. Mary, every inch her mother’s daughter, swung firmly behind Catherine and, perhaps in part because of her defiance, was declared illegitimate and unable to inherit once Henry had split from Rome and obtained his divorce.

Mary was robbed of her royal status, separated from Catherine and eventually made to serve her infant sister Elizabeth. She was alienated and demeaned.

The trauma caused the teenager to develop health problems that lasted the rest of her life.

Catherine would ‘commend Mary’ to Henry with her dying breath, but could she actually have done more to protect her?

Let me explain.

There was probably no circumstance in which Henry would rest until he was rid of his first wife, but the humbling of Mary did not have to automatically follow. When couples had their marriages annulled, it was possible that the children of the union could retain their legitimacy if it was deemed that their parents had married in ‘good faith.’ This wasn’t just a theoretical exemption; in 1527, Henry VIII’s sister Margaret had divorced the Earl of Angus and their daughter, the English-resident Lady Margaret Douglas, experienced no change in status. It was a scenario fresh on the Tudor consciousness.

Of course, I cannot prove that Henry would have been prepared to give any ground and it’s certainly conceivable that Anne Boleyn would not have been able to tolerate Mary remaining in the line of succession. But when the King wanted rid of wife number 4 (Anne of Cleves), he showed he was prepared to give her a good deal so long as he ultimately got what he wanted.

Could Catherine not have sensed which way the wind was blowing and entered negotiations? Perhaps she could have looked past her own pride and made her daughter’s legitimacy a condition of her ‘going quietly.’ Mary would still have been displaced in the succession by the birth of children to Anne, but she would have been spared the stain of bastardy and able to maintain her status as a Princess. She would not have been publicly disgraced.

None of this changes that fact that I still believe Catherine was the injured party and Henry was fundamentally to blame for the cruel treatment of Mary. But Catherine is not free from guilt. A parent’s job, both in Tudor times as it is now, is to forsake their own happiness in order to do everything possible for their child. Catherine’s high pride blinded her from her maternal duties and Mary would live with the consequences for the rest of her life.

Okay geeks…what do you think? Have I been way to harsh on Catherine? Have I over-estimated Henry’s capacity to compromise? Would Mary have ever been satisfied with this deal? I want to know what YOU think!

Alison Weir’s new series: The six things I’m most looking forward to discovering

Posted on March 15, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

Like most history enthusiasts, I do my level best to view everything I read with an objective and critical eye. When it comes to unearthing the secrets of the past, loyalty to any historian or school of thought is misplaced. The truth is all that matters.

Nonetheless, we wouldn’t be human if, when it came to authors and historians, we didn’t develop our favourites. People whose style, both of writing and research, not to mention interpretation, seems to grip us; often for the very reason that they think differently to ourselves and challenge our thinking.

As many of you know, my favourite is Alison Weir. So it was with great excitement that I discovered she had announced she was revisiting the subject of ‘the six wives of Henry VIII’ both in the form of a revision of her early 90’s work and in six new novels, one for each wife.

All new works are exciting, but there’s something extra special about the novels. As the author herself has said, the novelist has a great deal more freedom than the historian. She can use this medium to test theories and speculate in a way that wouldn’t be appropriate in a history book. However, if this speculation is rooted in well-researched fact, it still has a high degree of historical value.

The first book on Catherine of Aragon will be released later this year and so I wanted to take this chance to say which six things I am most looking forward to discovering as the series unfold.

Was Catherine of Aragon’s first marriage to Arthur, Prince of Wales consummated? It was the peg that Henry VIII later hung his divorce case on and Catherine went to her grave denying that she had known the touch of man prior to marriage number 2. Recently, based largely on Alison’s arguments in previous books, I argued that Catherine was probably telling the truth. However, Alison has been tantalising teasing that new evidence has come to light which solves the question conclusively. I will be very interesting to see what path she takes in the novel…

Had Anne Boleyn sinned against Henry in her heart? In Alison’s excellent book ‘The Lady in the Tower’ she notes that second wife Anne, swore that she had never sinned against Henry in body, potentially suggesting that she could have in some other way. I will be fascinated to see whether Mrs Weir interprets Anne as having a heart which belongs to another.

Exactly what kind of person was Jane Seymour? Jane is famous for giving Henry his longed for only (legitimate) son but I’ve always felt she died too suddenly for history to make much of a judgement on her. I can’t wait to see how Alison interprets her personality.

What did Anne of Cleves make of Henry VIII? It’s well known that Henry was not enamoured with this German Princess (“she looks like a horse”) but history is generally silent on what she thought of the obese, older man. I’m sure however, that Alison will have a view…

How old was Catherine Howard? The age of wife number 4 is disputed by about 4 years and I actually think it makes quite a big difference as to how we interpret her ‘flighty’ behaviour. It might sound geeky (and it probably is), but I’m keen to see what Alison’s current view on it is.

How close did ‘the one that survived’ come to not surviving? Henry was the King of mind games (actually, he was the King of England, but you know what I mean). I’ve never been sure how much he considered getting rid of Katherine Parr (a warrent for her arrest was prepared and discovered) or whether that was just another trick. Alison, no doubt, will be able to set me straight.

Anyway, as you would expect, I will review all the books on the site as they are published.

So geeks…over to you. Anyone else looking forward to the series? What things would you most like to learn about Henry VIII’s six wives?

In defence of Queen Victoria

Posted on March 14, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

As you can imagine, I like a good Royal documentary as much as the next person. A few years back, when the Queen celebrated her diamond jubilee, it was a cause of great joy to me that TV makers were inspired to turn their attention to the only other monarch to have marked that milestone. Victoria.

But as I’ve blogged before, something concerns me about what is entering the public consciousness as a result. Last week when ‘Queen Victoria’s children’ was re-run, I noticed again that social media was filling up with criticism of the late monarch.

Some of it was justified. She was a self-centred woman. She could be callous about and to, her children. If you made an enemy of her, she was anything but gracious. But this is only one side of the story; it’s time the other one was told. To that end, I want to offer a few #QuickFireThoughts.

To start with, when it came to parenting, it should be remembered that her 9 children were no picnic. The Prince of Wales in particular, indulged in antics that would drive almost any parent to distraction. She treated her youngest daughter horrifically when she announced she wanted to marry – but she also eventually embraced her son-in-law and helped advance him in life. All of this of course should be viewed against the backdrop that she was horrifically parented herself.

Aside from parenting, there were many admirable parts to her personality and character that deserve honourable mention:

She was significantly less racist than her contemporaries – Her embracing of Indian servants enraged the establishment, but she would constantly defend them against the glare of the English superiority complex that was rampant. I’m not suggesting that her world view would survive the scrutiny of 21st century standards, but it was considerably more advanced than those around her.

She embraced the underdog – Perhaps aware of her own heritage (she probably always felt like a first-generation immigrant despite being born in England) she was keen to champion the minority. Be it in her love of Scotland over England or her preference for the Jewish Disraeli over the establishment produced Gladstone, she often acted in a way that people would not expect their ruler to; this has to be to her credit.

She placed less stock in hierarchy than most Royals – Perhaps seen most evidently in her relationships with her highland servants, Victoria craved informality in a way that often made other Royals, including her children, uncomfortable. She was also disturbed by the Germanic practice of morganatic marriages, which was when a continental noble chose to wed someone of lower social status. Such arrangements meant that a woman marrying a man of higher nobility could not claim his titles and precedence. She was glad no such practice existed in Britain.

She genuinely valued friendship – The close associations she struck up were both unpredictable and frequent. While she never forgot that she was a Queen-Empress, she coveted connections that would allow people to approach her as something resembling an equal. Victoria was a woman who wanted at least some people to know her as a human being.

None of this is to suggest that the late matriarch was a forward-thinking liberal. She was vehemently opposed to women’s rights throughout her reign. But she was not the cold, callous egomaniac that recent documentaries have portrayed her as.

Or at the very least, that wasn’t all she was.

What do you think geeks? Am I being too hard on the documentary makers? Am I too quick to overlook the faults of the Queen-Empress? Have I over-emphasised her positive character traits? I want to know what YOU think?

Did Katherine of Aragon really come to her second marriage a virgin?

Posted on February 25, 2016August 26, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

After the wedding celebrations of Katherine of Aragon to Arthur, Prince of Wales, the teenage couple was ‘put to bed’ in keeping with the Tudor custom. What happened that night would later become an issue of great controversy. In this post we explore whether Katherine’s claim that the marriage was never consummated stands up to scrutiny.

As a trusting kind of person, I’m always inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt. Given that Katherine of Aragon went to her death insisting that when she entered her second marriage to King Henry VIII, she did so as a virgin despite the fact she had briefly been married to his brother, I’ve always tended to believed her.

Of course, given that this (intensely personal) issue was at the heart of her husband claiming a legitimate case to divorce her, perhaps Katherine had little choice but to insist on her pre-marital purity. Certainly a good batch of historians seem to think so.

So I decided to #DigALittleDeeper and I have to confess that – with all the usual caveats around how we can never truly know – I’m still inclined to side with Katherine, although it’s something I’d like to discuss in more depth in the future. To start with, I’m not satisfied that the arguments against her really stack up. Let’s explore.

There was an assumption , upon her first husband Arthur’s death, that the marriage was consummated – This is based on the fact that they waited a few months before declaring the future Henry VIII, ‘Prince of Wales’ on the basis that Katherine might be pregnant. Similarly, when going through the process of arranging Katherine’s second marriage, her mother was keen to ensure that the Pope granted dispensation for the marriage regardless of the whether the first union had been consummated.

These arguments are sensible enough, but in reality no one probably asked Katherine much about the wedding night. Her mother, Queen Isabella of Castile, wasn’t keen for this clause because she suspected that her daughter had been enjoying the fruits of young love; it was a sensible precaution by a wise and worldly woman who wanted to protect her daughter and the alliance with England, from any future attempts to undermine her second marriage. The fact that even with it, this is exactly what happened, demonstrates what incredible foresight the infamous Queen of Castile must have possessed.

Prince Arthur seemed to think there had been intimacy – Friends of the 15 year old groom were later to tell of the young prince’s claims the morning after the wedding that marriage was ‘thirsty work’ and that he had spent the night in the ‘midst of Spain.’ There is no reason to think that these friends of Arthur’s were lying, but you really don’t need to be a historian to deduce that this is likely to have been youthful bragging; you just need to have been, or to have ever met, a teenage boy.

Katherine had a motive to lie – Yes, she did. David Starkey very cleverly argues that given her upbringing in the court of her parents, the Spanish Kings, she was more than aware of the real politick of the Royal marriage market and would have done all she could to advance her country by becoming Queen of England. I have a great deal of time for this argument. However, Alison Weir argues that she would never have continued this lie to her death bed. Given Katherine’s clear devotion to her faith and the fact she would have wanted to meet her maker with a clear conscience, we must conclude that this is the superior argument. What’s more, Katherine seemed rather confident in challenging Henry, that he knew full well that she came to him as a maid. Without wanting to be graphic, if this is true then there would have been ways the King might have noticed it at the time; a daring challenge for her to make if she didn’t know it to be true.

There are other arguments too. When Katherine did declare that her first marriage had been unconsummated, people believed it. Sex in teenage marriages was often not encouraged as it was thought to be dangerous. We know Margaret Beaufort, based on her own bitter experience, intervened to try and protect her granddaughter from teenage intercourse. Could she have done the same for her granddaughter in law (this last point is a bit far-fetched but has given me a great idea for a #WildCard)?

As I said, we can never know. Fundamentally, for me, it comes down to who do you trust more out of Katherine and Henry? Both had reason to lie, but if Henry really did believe his wife did not come to him a virgin, then he was fundamentally unbothered by it for over a decade of his marriage. The change of heart only occurred when he became desperate for both a son and another woman. The rest of Henry’s reign also shows us how he was very comfortable with either lying to others or, more likely, deceiving himself about the true facts of a situation when it suited him to do so. Katherine however, would gain an almost saintly reputation, going to her death bed declaring that Henry was the only man to ever know her.

For me, the jury has come in on this issue and it has declared, at least for now, for Katherine of Aragon.

Could Edward IV have been illegitimate?

Posted on February 24, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

The great Tudor rose. Red for Lancaster and white for York. A symbol that good King Henry had united the waring houses and brought stability to England.

And of course it wasn’t just a piece of empty imagery; it was a symbol of success. He had infused his Lancastrian blood with the rival genepool of Elizabeth of York, thanks to an alliance between their respective mothers, giving birth in turn to a host of young Yorkcastrians, better known to us as the Tudors.

But what if there was a break somewhere in the chain? What if instead of uniting his line with the descendants of Richard, Duke of York, Henry had inadvertently hooked up with the heir to a little-known French archer? According to rumours, he had done just that.

The story goes that when they were both in France, Cecily, Duchess of York and her husband the Duke were temporarily estranged due to his military commitments. During this separation, she succumbed to the advances of an archer named Blaybourne and fell pregnant with the child that would one day become Edward IV, hero of the house of York and father to the first Tudor Queen.

Most damagingly, it is claimed the story originates with Cecily herself. As even the most casual observer of this era will be aware, Edward’s marriage to the low-born Elizabeth Woodville (whose family were both known as Lancastrian sympathisers and fierce social climbers) was immensely controversial. Apparently, so enraged was she with her son, that she threatened to confess that he was illegitimate and deprive him of the throne.

It’s a serious accusation but one we should be cautious about taking at face value. There is no record of the rumour before 1483 when it emerged in the pages of Dominic Mancini, an Italian scholar dispatched to England to serve as the eyes and ears of a continental Bishop. It must be remembered that at this point, Richard III and his cronies were putting it about that Edward IV was a bastard, in order to bolster his younger brother’s claim for the throne. It is likely therefore that this rumour crops up for the first time in 1483 and probably didn’t spring from Cecily’s lips.

Without being able to depend on this fundamental plank of evidence, the rest of the arguments fall down somewhat. Let’s explore them.

The absence of the Duke of York at the time of conception – When you look at Edward’s birthdate (in late April 1442) and work backwards, it appears as if the Duke of York was away from home at the time of conception, but the truth is, we just don’t have enough evidence to read too much into it. The couple resided in France at the time and while the Duke was away, he wasn’t so far that the Duchess couldn’t have joined him for some of this time. Of course, the future King could also have been slightly premature or even a little late – there isn’t much time in it. All of these seem more likely than the Duchess secretly ‘liaised’ with a man of such lower rank, that tongues would surely have been set wagging. We should remember that no rumours of Edward’s paternity are recorded before a time when they were politically advantageous to someone.

A low-key baptism – It has been suggested that Edward’s low-key baptism (in the corner of the church), which contrasted a year later with a more lavish christening for his younger brother, indicate that the Duke of York was not going to splash out for a baby that he didn’t think was his. However, this is counter-intuitive; if the Duke of York had decided to raise this child as his heir, even if he was suspicious of paternity, surely he would have gone out of his way to maintain a pretence of legitimacy rather give the world a sign that his wife had so embarrassingly betrayed him. Besides, the Duke and Duchess had previously had a son who died very soon after birth; their decision to go for a low-key baptism was probably a sign that they had concerns for his health and wanted to make sure he was dedicated to God before anything went wrong. Incidentally, this somewhat backs up the suggestion that he was premature.

A lack of physical resemblance between father and son – This is a bit of a non-starter. Yes, Edward was tall and strapping (which his father was not) but there are plenty of obvious people in his blood line (on both mother and father’s side) where he could have got this from. Family resemblance is tricky and for those of us analysing today, we don’t have an awful lot to go on.

Both his brothers accused him of being a bastard – Yes they did. Both had a political motive for doing so. Others made such accusations as well, but not until long after he was born and crowned. Besides, when a noble was born in another country, away from the glare of the commentators of the day, rumours often surrounded the circumstances of their birth. John of Gaunt is an example of this.

Aside from all the above there are other points worth mentioning. Cecily was outraged by such rumours (suggesting, again, that she didn’t start them) and it seems hugely out of character for her to have committed adultery, especially with someone of low-birth. I think it is also reasonable to assume that Richard, Duke of York believed that Edward was his; he is unlikely to have claimed the throne for his descendants and willingly passed it on to another man’s son.

All this said, I have only had chance to #digalittledeeper into this topic. One day I would love to research it more thoroughly and am certainly open to changing my mind.

Why did George V shrink the Royal family in 1917?

Posted on February 23, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

The reasons that the legendary King George V decided to abandon all German names, titles and distinctions in 1917 are well known. And let’s face it, kind of obvious. The proud but down-to-earth emperor was dismayed by comments that he presided over an ‘uninspiring and alien court’ to which he famously responded that he may be uninspiring but he’d be damned if he was alien! Thus, against such peculiar circumstances, was the house of Windsor born.

What is less know (well, unless you’re a super call Royal-watcher like me) is that just a few months later, George took the opportunity to shrink the Royal family, restricting the title of Prince and Princess and virtually abolishing the style of Highness.

On 30 November 1917,of 1917, letters patent were issued declaring that henceforth only the children of the sovereign, sons of sons of the sovereign and the eldest son of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales would be entitles to the style of Royal Highness and the titular dignity of Prince of Princess. Hitherto, male-line great-grandchildren of a sovereign could also call themselves Prince or Princess with the style of Highness.

Despite my obsession with Royalty in general and Royal titles in particular, I have never come by much in terms of a reason for the King’s decisions. This is no doubt mainly down to the fact that I so far limited my search to the internet; I have never yet had the chance to trawl through many of the excellent biographies of the war-time King, something I would love to do when time allows. But it might also be because the King’s own thoughts on the matter were fairly guarded.

Nonetheless I thought whacking out some #QuickFireThoughts on the subject would make a compelling blog post. I have three (all entirely speculative) theories as to why he felt the title stripping necessary. The first two I think are quite credible; the third more of a #WildCard:

George V wanted to start a fresh with the Royal family – It is quite believable that the earlier decision to Anglicise the house of Saxe-Coburgh-Gotha reminded everybody just how far flung the Royal family had become and just how intwined they were with continental (especially Germanic) Royalty. Perhaps the King also didn’t fancy the thought of a host of deposed demi-Royals from the continent fleeing to Britain and claiming Royal status as descendants of Queen Victoria for the next few years. This declaration would have limited Royalty almost (although not entirely) to those already domicile in the UK, largely eliminating that problem.

In the wake of monarchies falling, the time seemed right to shrink down the family-firm – Everywhere you looked European monarchies were crumbling. The Russian Tsar had been forced to abdicate earlier that year, and it was pretty obvious that others weren’t far behind. So, perhaps the British monarchy did what it does best; modernise to survive! We know that George V was keen to pump a bit more British blood into the veins of the house of Windsor and would allow his children to take local spouses; this whole project would be easier if there were less potential Royals to marry off. Also, perhaps he felt that the new house of Windsor really needed a fresh start and should be contained, primarily to his descendants. Regardless of his motivation, the move boasted incredible foresight; had he not made this change, Britain today would be positively littered with Princes and Princesses.

It was a personal vendetta against the Connaughts – Before I get into this, let me reiterate that this point firmly fits into the #WildCard category. But anyway, here we go! Although the 1917 letters patent but the ky-bosh on a number of continental royals potentially falling back on British titles once stripped of others, there was only one person who was actually affected by it at the time: Alastair, Earl of Macduff who prior to the LPs has been known as His Highness Prince Alastair of Connaught. I remember once reading somewhere (and I really can’t remember where) that George V had some kind of grudge against his Connaught cousins. Could it be that he wanted to alienate them from the Royal family. After all, young Alastair’s aunt, Princess Patricia of Connaught mysteriously ‘volunteered’ to give up her Royal style when she married in 1919. Perhaps this was no coincidence…

Anyway, perhaps one day I will have chance to read more about this and return to the subject. Until then, if anyone know more or has any views, I would be very grateful to hear them!

Three things the ‘White Queen’ got wrong

Posted on February 21, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

Fierce debate rages amongst super-cool Royal history geeks as to the merits of high-profile historical fiction. On the one hand, it sparks interest within the general population; on the flip side, it encourages severe inaccuracies to flow through the popular consciousness.

Generally, I’m in the ‘pro’ camp. If interest is sparked, there is a greater opportunity for misconceptions to be corrected. Besides, I really like reading and watching it all.

So when I heard that the ‘White Queen’ would enjoy a sequel in America – although not in Britain – I thought this was good news. The BBC series in 2013 sparked interest in the Wars of the Roses and the matriarchs of the Tudor dynasty more than anything I’ve ever known.

But…but, but, but, but, but…the inaccuracies were of epic proportions, to a much greater extent than the Philippa Gregory books on which they were based. It’s so important that this is realised.

Let me start by trying to tidy up a few bits. Primarily I want to say what I think was wrong with the portrayals of the three main heroines, Elizabeth Woodville, Margaret Beaufort and Anne Neville:

Elizabeth Woodville – Beautiful, heroic and tragic. All of these were true, but unlike in the book, her negative qualities just did not come across. True, she was vengeful toward those who hurt her family (though later, unconvincingly, forgave brother-in-law George), but where was the ambition, the vindictiveness, the ruthlessness and the spite? The entire court loathed Elizabeth and her kin. They must have had some kind of reason and their savagely ambitious personalities were a part of this. In one sense Elizabeth is no hero at all, but very much a medieval woman on the make. This was just not clear enough.

Margaret Beaufort – I’m sorry, but no. Yes, Margaret had blood and marital connections to Lancaster (and no doubt preferred Henry VI to Edward IV), but she was no blind fanatic to the cause of the Red Rose. Yes, she had dramatic loyalty to her son, but never in his tender years did she expect him to be King. It is well documented that she was a pious woman, but she was no crazed fundamentalist and let’s be clear – nor was she a sinister child killer. The Margaret that I have researched was a cautious pragmatist that would one day take a huge gamble that ultimately paid off. I’m also not sure why they decided to ruin her marriage to Henry Stafford, the relationship which was probably the happiest of her life.

If people are interested in a more balanced picture of Margaret Beaufort’s life and character, check out our content from Margaret Beaufort week.

Anne Neville – It wasn’t so much that they got Anne Neville’s character wrong; the problem was that they actually gave her one. Anne Neville, through the manipulations of her father and two fateful marriages to key players in the political scene, would have seen a lot. However, there is very little evidence to suggest that she herself ever inputted much. I really don’t think she helped to mastermind Lancaster’s military strategy in 1470; neither do I think she pressured her husband to do away with her nephews.

If the book is anything to go by, the new series of ‘The White Princess’ is also going to require some correcting. Never fear though geeks…that is a post for another time!

Could the Queen Mother really have been the daughter of a French cook?

Posted on February 18, 2016February 18, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

It’s amazing what you learn from popular culture. Up until the recent series of ‘I’m a celebrity…’ I had never heard of Lady Colin Campbell, a writer who married into (and divorced out of) the British aristocracy and went on to pen ‘tell all’ books about Diana and the Queen Mother.

Until recently I had never heard her theory that Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon (better known to us as Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother) was not the daughter of her legal mother, but in fact the result of a ‘surrogacy’ arrangement between her father, the future Earl of Strathmore and Kingmore, and Marguerite Rodiere, a French cook who worked at one of their residences.

It’s an absurd theory. What makes me really angry is that Lady Colin must be aware of that.

The story goes that after eight successful pregnancies, Celia, Lady Glamis (the future Countess) was unable to bear any more children. Therefore, in an early version of surrogacy, they approached a member of their household to help them get two further children by proxy: Elizabeth and her little brother David. The following arguments are given in evidence:

The Queen Mother’s middle name was Marguerite – a sure sign (apparently) of her real parentage
The Duke and Duchess of Windsor (the Queen Mother’s brother and sister-in-law) used to refer to her behind her back as ‘cookie,’ an innuendo as to her origin
The story is apparently ‘widely known’ in aristocratic circles

None of this even begins to stack up. Firstly, choosing a middle name is not usually seen as a practice of identifying maternity. It might well be that the Strathmores were fond of their cook and decided to honour her in their daughter’s name, or possibly more likely, through her they became aware of the name and just decided they liked it. It could of course, just be a coincidence.

The snub of the Windsors also adds no weight to this case. They are widely understood to have used this nickname because the then Duchess of York, with her soft and plump appearance, reminded them of a Scottish Cook. More than anything else, they were just looking to be derogatory.

As to whether this story was ‘doing the rounds’ in aristocratic circles, I cannot say. I do not myself mix in them. However, I would caution everyone to be wary of any historian who makes an argument based on sources that very few people have access to. Just because something happens to be the subject of gossip doesn’t make it true; gossip often is, after all, exactly that!

Anyway, this theory begs some even more obvious questions. After bearing eight healthy children, would the couple really be so desperate to have another two that they would go to such extremes? Would the proud and high-born coupling of Bowes-Lyon and Cavendish really be so prepared to contaminate their blood line?

The real reason this suggestion is so ludicrous, is the striking physical resemblance between Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon and her own mother. While I appreciate that this isn’t the most scientific approach in the world, let’s just stand back a minute and take a look at some pictures. I genuinely don’t believe anyone can look at these pictures and honestly take alternative theories about the Queen Mother’s parentage seriously. I can only conclude that Lady Colin Campbell’s desire to sell books far out weighted her determination to tell the truth.

This makes me very angry indeed.

Okay geeks…what do you think? Am I being too harsh? Should I give Lady C the benefit of the doubt? Or are you as angry about this as I am?

Valentine’s day special: Were Victoria and Albert really a love match?

Posted on February 14, 2016February 14, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

As a Valentine’s day special, we will take a step back and decide whether Royalty’s greatest love story was really the great romance many of us have always believed it to be…

Studying Royal History is never boring, but it can be intense. Brother against brother, father killing son, wife betraying husband and cousin rising up against cousin. Sometimes, you need a bit of light relief.

For me, it was always the love story of Victoria and Albert that gave me that a-plenty. Two young adults who, however dynastically convenient, fell head over heels in love. In the innocent throws of passion that followed, they created an idyllic set of children that would serve as a timeless model of exactly what a Royal family should look like.

Such tales don’t just make easy reading; if the modern reader is able to overlook the fact that the two lovers were first-cousins, it is essentially a tale of romance that we can all either relate or aspire to.

But lately, as I’ve been conducting some – albeit fairly light – research around the ‘happy couple,’ I’ve noticed that there’s now a narrative circulating that perhaps all was not as it seemed. This is something I don’t remember coming across as a teenager, but certainly seems to have been doing the rounds in recent years.

Don’t get me wrong, very little that I read suggests that the conventional view is dead in the water, but there is a sense that the young Coburgs were not the love story we have been led to believe. Were much of Victoria’s later platitudes to Albert a product of guilt? Were they both really the victims of an arranged marriage? Was it the case that plain Victoria felt a hormonal passion for her striking new husband, but he was more disappointed in his plump, immature and unintelligent bride?

Having decided to #DigALittleDeeper I have concluded that the following observations certainly seem fair:

Victoria and Albert’s match was certainly one arranged (or strongly, strongly encouraged) by their family. Their uncle Leopold, had once been in prime position to become Prince Consort of Britain; it was almost certainly his belief that this ambition should be fulfilled by the next generation of his kin.
After Albert’s death it does seem the case that Victoria looked back at their marriage through rose-tinted spectacles. Contemporary letters and other sources suggest their marriage could be quite tempestuous and a strain on both parties.
It does seem that whatever Victoria’s pleasures, Albert experienced a degree of melancholy in the marriage, particularly in the early years.

However, is any of this really enough to take away from the more romantic tales that have come down to us? Yes, their marriage was somewhat ‘arranged,’ but this would always be the case for the woman ruling the most powerful Kingdom in Europe. It should be noted that some of the other potential matches for her were more favourable to other stakeholders, including the UK government. Victoria and Albert’s personal chemistry was part of what made the match achievable.

It is almost inevitable that following Albert’s untimely death, Victoria would always remember her marriage with more romance than accuracy, but that doesn’t mean she rewrote history. Were there elements of guilt for the times that she didn’t think herself a good wife? Probably, but that’s hardly untypical in situations of grief. While evidence does suggest that there were many tempestuous moments in their marriage, perhaps in a marriage dominated by passion, this shouldn’t surprise us.

As for what was going on in Albert’s head and indeed, his heart, we can of course never truly know. If indeed his passion did not match that of his wife’s, we would be wise not to draw too much from that. Victoria was in her own country, her own surroundings and occupied an established role in society. Not only did Albert not have the security of a well-worn constitutional role, he also had to adapt to leaving all his friends, family and the country he had grown up in. If he was battling with aspects of mild depression from time to time, it does not make sense to attribute that to how he felt about his marriage.

Besides, there is evidence that suggests his marriage to Victoria was something that excited him on every level. The love letters he sent to his future bride, testify to a man excited about forthcoming nuptials and everything that this would entail. Throughout the 1840s, Victoria was rarely free from pregnancy. True, they both felt a duty to create a new and idyllic Royal family after the scandals of the Hanoverian years, but it’s difficult to think that this scale of reproduction was the product of duty alone.

As with so many things, this is something I would like to research further. Based on what I can see so far, I won’t be abandoning the romantic notions of this Royal coupling that I have found so comforting over the years. For once, this is a tale of romance that is rooted in reality.