Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list
May. The month of Anne Boleyn. Her arrest, trial and execution happened in such swift succession that it’s possible to mark them all in a single month.
To remember Anne this May, I decided to read about her. Anne Boleyn: Henry VIII’s obsession was this year’s choice.
The book is the first of four biographies covering wives of Henry VIII. The author has stated that each was designed to be short. They provide an overview of their respective subject’s life. True to its word, the biography is easy to read and presents a clear picture of the extraordinary life of the second Henrican Queen.
Anne’s meteoric rise, turbulent reign and dramatic downfall are well known to Tudor fans. Norton’s book sets these events in the context of Anne’s early life. By exploring her upbringing and time on the continent, the reader gets a glimpse into how Anne’s early experiences shaped her character and approach. By the time she steps onto the stage of Henry’s court, she is more French than English.
Anne’s love affair with Henry has gone down in history. But it was not the only controversial match she embroiled herself in. Her attempt to wed Percy and potential love affair with Wyatt are given the attention they deserve.
The ‘King’s Great Matter’ – his attempt to divorce his first wife and be wed to Anne – is worthy of a book of its own. However, Norton successfully summarises the key events. She grants us an insight into the motivations of the central players.
Anne’s ultimately triumphs as Queen of England but her success is short-lived. Henry’s resumption of his mistresses and her failure to make the transition from mistress to submissive wife cause cracks to appear. Against this backdrop, her early failure to produce a male heir makes her vulnerable. Within three years of her marriage, Anne becomes ‘the lady in the tower.’
Historians from previous generations have treated Anne with disdain. Perhaps in reaction, the Boleyn Queen today enjoys a cult following on social media. But Norton’s book will not satisfy those with a partisan interest. She refused to paint Anne as either tragic romantic heroine or unreconstructed villain. The author is honest about Anne’s shortcomings. But she also helps us to understand where her viciousness came from.
Those new to Tudor history will find this biography an indispensable way to familiarise themselves with Anne’s story. Old-timers like me will value it as a useful refresher. It is thoroughly researched and easy to read.
Anne Boleyn was one of the most extraordinary women to walk the green and pleasant lands of England. Perhaps no write-up can truly do her justice. But in her honest, thorough and accessible work, the author has surely been faithful to Anne’s final request. Norton has meddled with Anne’s cause and she has judged the best.
Anne Boleyn: Henry VIII’s obsession by Elizabeth Norton is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
As a groom, Henry’s personal desirability decline dramatically during his life.
Katherine of Aragon happily married the most handsome prince in Europe. Katherine Parr reluctantly shared the bed of a morbidly obese tyrant.
But in truth, that hardly mattered. Throughout his reign, Henry’s principal offer to a bride never wavered. Marriage to him meant maximum promotion. The Queen was the first lady of the land. In Henrican England, a woman could rise no higher.
After marriage, each of Henry’s wives enjoyed the same exalted status. But their starting points differed wildly.
Henry’s wives different wildly in pedigree
How prestigious was the background of each of the six Tudor Queens? How would their status have been regarded by contemporaries? What would each of their marriage prospects have been had Henry failed to show an interest?
It’s a fascinating question. So, like all supercool people, I’ve conducted a little analysis. Here’s my stab at a pecking order.
1. Katherine of Aragon
Few could doubt that Henry’s first Queen should top the list. The daughter of the ‘Spanish Kings’ had a thoroughly royal pedigree and was related to many of Europe’s crowned heads. Through her great-grandmother, Catherine of Lancaster, she was even descended from England’s very own Edward III.
Katherine was always destined for a crown. Her parents successfully married off their many daughters to secure foreign alliances. In hindsight, it’s almost a tragedy that she didn’t end up elsewhere. She was certainly unlucky with both her English husbands.
2. Anne of Cleves
The heritage of Anne (or Anna) of Cleves is one I’d always failed to appreciate. I had casually dismissed her as the daughter of a minor German state. It wasn’t until I read the great biography by Elizabeth Norton that I realised how wrong I was. Anna’s genealogy included kings of France. She had connections to Burgundy. She was a descendent of Edward I of England.
Had Anne not come to England she would most likely have married within the Holy Roman Empire. A life as a German duchess could well have been on the cards. Through a union with Henry however, she achieved a crown. Even if only for a very brief period.
Anna of Cleves could claim descent from French and English Kings
3. Anne Boleyn
It is often said that the Boleyn’s had ‘come up’ only recently by the time Anne was one the scene. That’s partly true. But Anne was granddaughter of the duke of Norfolk. She also claimed noble heritage through her father’s side.
Three out of Anne’s four grandparents could claim to be from the nobility. Or at least, the very upper reaches of the gentry. Like all Henry’s wives, she could claim descent from Edward I.
Long before Henry ever seemed like a possibility, Anne looked set to make a great match. Her attempts to wed Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland were rebuffed. This, though, was not due to her heritage. The powerful Cardinal Wolsey intended her to marry her kinsman the Earl of Ormond to satisfy competing claims to the title. Percy certainly robustly protested that Anne was of good enough pedigree to become countess of Northumberland. It’s likely that, left to her own devises, she would have made a similar match.
Some speculate that Anne’s father, Thomas Boleyn was only raised to the peerage as Viscount Rochford and later Earl of Wiltshire because of his daughters’ ‘involvement’ with the king. In reality, his promotion to Viscount Rochford was almost certainly due to his heritage. The fact that Mary Boleyn may or may not have been the king’s mistress at this point is likely to be a coincidence.
Thomas might well have achieved an earldom even if Anne hadn’t caught the king’s eye. He did, to be frank, deserve compensation. Despite being (probably) the best candidate, he missed out on the earldom of Ormond.
4. Katheryn Howard
This list contains two controversial calls. The first is my decision to place Anne Boleyn ahead of her first-cousin Katheryn Howard.
Katheryn was a male-line descendent of the Duke of Norfolk. Her ancestry was impeccably noble and gentry on both sides. Anne was contaminated by a line which had so recently emerged from the merchant class. Katheryn was not. Through her mother’s line she could claim descent from some highly respectable baronial names. Clifford, Ferres and Beauchamp each get a name check on her family tree.
But how one’s social standing was perceived in Tudor England is difficult to judge. Particularly from this distance. As such, I’ve placed a great deal of emphasis on how likely each Queen would have been to ‘marry well’ before Henry was in the picture.
Anne was almost certainly destined for a coronet. Katheryn seemed more likely to make a modest match. Blood was important in the sixteenth century. But even then, blood wasn’t everything. Connections were powerful. The right people pushing you could make a difference.
A big part of Anne’s desirability might have been the money that Thomas Boleyn could offer as a dowry. Katheryn was from a mighty family. But her lowly position within it meant that she had little cash to bring to the table.
5. Katherine Parr
Henry’s last wife was of solidly knightly class. Her father was a significant landowner. She could claim descent from the mighty Nevilles – the family that had dominated the north in the 1400s. A descendant of Edward III through the Beaufort line, Katherine had a heritage to be proud of.
Henry VIII was Katherine’s third husband. She had already proven her worth on the marriage market. Her first marriage had been respectable. Her second, spectacular.
Katherine Parr was from a family on the fringes of the baronage
6. Jane Seymour
Jane may have been the Queen that lingered in Henry’s heart. But she was probably the humblest. I mentioned that this list contains two controversies. My decision to place Jane below Katherine Parr is the second. You could argue that there’s barely a sheet of tissue paper between them. Through her mother’s Wentworth line, Jane, like Katherine, could claim descent from Edward III.
Maybe it’s a tie. But to my eye the Parr family tree seems to more obviously resemble a family on the fringes of the baronage. As I said earlier, I’ve placed a lot of weight on the ‘pre-Henry’ marriage prospects of the ladies. Katherine was snapped up young and made two decent marriages. At 28, Jane was somewhat on the shelf. She seemed to be struggling to make a decent match.
Over to you geeks. What do you think? Have I been a bit harsh on Jane or Katheryn Howard? Are there important branches to the family tree I’m missing? I want to know what YOU think.
Henry VIII’s 4th wife has gone down in history as an ugly ‘Flanders mare.’ But is there really the evidence to back this up? Leave me a comment and let me know what you think.
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list
Like most Royal History Geeks I’m in love with popular history. When surveying the past is just a hobby, time is limited. The compelling narrative of a popular publication stimulates the mind and soothes the soul.
But as time goes by, those of us drawn further and further into the web of history sometimes need a little bit more. Our thirst for knowledge yearns for greater depth. We will always love every new 300-page paperback about our favourite medieval or Tudor ruler. Yet, it gets harder to spot a fact or analysis that we hadn’t stumbled across before.
It’s time for us to join the debates that have consumed historians since the events first happened. We want to learn more about the local studies and textual analyses that theories are built on. We don’t want to just be told that Professor Historylove had conducted a revolutionary study on the Calendar of Patent Rolls. We want to see if for ourselves.
Henry IV, by the great medievalist Chris Given-Wilson, is the perfect transition for anyone wanting to make the leap from popular history to the academic arena. Given its biography format, its structure is one that we are broadly familiar with. It retells accounts of myths and legends. But it sets the record straight on what is most likely to have happened.
The first Lancastrian King is often overshadowed by the glory of his son’s campaigns and the disaster of his grandson’s reign. But he is an intriguing figure in and of his own right. As the author says, while Henry is not remembered as great King, it is not impossible to imagine that in different circumstances, he could have been. And even before he became king, his life was more than worth reading about.
The book kicks off with a detailed examination of Henry’s Lancastrian inheritance. Many books talk about the vast wealth of the Dukes of Lancaster. This one gives detail. It proceeds to explore what is known of his early life. It analyses the factors that caused him to rebel against his cousin Richard II.
Eventually the book explores events that Royal History Geeks may be more familiar with. Richard II’s decline into tyranny and Henry’s ultimate usurpation of the crown. The house of Lancaster has finally claimed the throne of England. But for Henry at least, it will never be a throne he sits on comfortably. Rebellions, fiscal concerns and family division cause most of the King’s reign to be a stressful one. Ill health and injury blight his final years.
Unlike popular historians, academics give little space for speculation over things we can only guess at. So you’re going to be disappointed if you’re expecting much insight into how Henry felt at the early death of his wife, Mary de Bohun. If you’re after an analysis of any pangs of guilt associated with overthrowing his cousin, look elsewhere. If you’re desperate to empathise with him about what it feels like to be betrayed by your son, this isn’t the book for you.
But none of that means that Henry doesn’t come across as a real human being. He is presented as a pious man interested in theology. John Beaufort, Thomas Swynford and Archbishop Arundel all emerge as life-long friends and companions.
The book is not an easy read. The author would probably be insulted if it were. I openly confess to reading a chapter and then feeling I had to read it again to fully digest. It must be studied rather than just read. But if you can give the book the time and mental energy it deserves, you will be richly rewarded with a deepening of knowledge and a broadening of the mind.
Henry IV by Chris Given-Wilson is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
Getting into the head of today’s public figures is tough enough. You might well have a strong opinion about the Duchess of Cornwall or Cherie Blair only to meet them and be utterly surprised.
So attempting to reconstruct the life of an obscure 14th century woman is an ambitious challenge. Especially when source material is scant and what we do have is highly biased.
Thankfully, it’s a challenge that Alison Weir rises to with robust research and inspired imagination.
‘Katherine Swynford: the story of John of Gaunt and his scandalous duchess’ is the kind of masterpiece that demonstrates exactly why Weir is one of the world’s best-selling historians. The author pieces together fragments of source material and weaves them into the tapestry of history. With Weir’s gift of empathy, the reader is left with little doubt as to why Katherine was a woman who captured the heart of a prince and aroused the suspicions of a nation.
The book begins with Sywnford’s arrival in England at around the age of two. It follows her early life and first marriage. It shows how the life of Katherine and her husband Hugh became entangled with the Lancastrian court.
As the book’s sub-heading suggests, the narrative also explores the story of John of Gaunt. By using sources such as Chaucer’s poetry, Weir paints a picture of Gaunt’s first marriage to Blanche of Lancaster. She brings to life the grief he almost certainly felt at her untimely death.
Gaunt and Swynford’s relationship almost certainly begins after the couple are respectively widowed. Gaunt, however, had embarked on a second marriage. The author uses compelling evidence to disprove later claims that their children were conceived in ‘double adultery.’ Using records of grants made to Katherine from John, the author credible speculates as to the date of birth of each of the four Beaufort children, while recognising the limitations of the exercise.
This book is not a photograph. It’s an artist’s impression. And Alison Weir is quite the painter. By detailing what we know of Kettlethorpe manor and great houses Katherine lived in we get a sense as to what daily life might have looked like. No sources mention her intellect or character. But Weir shrewdly deduces that her appointment as governess to the Lancastrian princesses suggests she was both clever and sophisticated. Above all else, the author rescues Katherine from the reputation dished upon her by monkish chroniclers.
Some commentators have been critical of this presentation of history. If the facts of what we know of someone’s life can fit on the back cover, is it appropriate to attempt a full biography? But I defy anyone to read this work and not deem it a useful exercise.
Intelligent speculation may have its limits. But with Weir’s gifts of empathy, her thorough research and knowledge of the era, one of history’s most elusive figures can finally step into the spotlight and enjoy a measure of the attention she deserves.
Katherine Swynford: The Story of John of Gaunt and His Scandalous Duchess is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
Over on facebook, we Royal History Geeks have been debating our favourite Queens from history. It’s what super-cool people do.
What many people don’t know (and let’s be honest, why should they?) is that in the British system, there are five different types of Queen.
Thought it would be worth a quick post to clarify.
QueenRegnant
When a woman inherits the crown in her own right, she is a ‘Queen Regnant.’ She reigns by right of birth and has the same powers and responsibilities as a King.
In English history there have been six undisputed Queen Regnants: Mary I, Elizabeth I, Mary II, Anne, Vicotria and Elizabeth II.
Scotland has been reigned over by five Queen Regnants – Mary Queen of Scots, Mary II, Anne, Queen Victoria, and the present Queen.
Mary I was the first undisputed Queen Regnant of England
Queen Consort
This is the most common kind of Queen in history. The wife of a King. In the British system, she is ‘Her Majesty the Queen’ and signs ‘R’ for ‘Regina’ after her name – exactly as a Queen Regnant would.
Queen Alexandra was consort to Edward VII
Queen Dowager
A former Queen Consort whose husband is dead. In the British system she is rarely known as ‘Queen Dowager.’ Instead she uses ‘Queen first name’. For example, the widow of George V was known as Her Majesty Queen Mary during the reign of her sons and granddaughter. She is still a Queen. But she is no longer the Queen.
Elizabeth Woodville, was restored to ‘Queen Dowager’ status when Henry VII became King
Queen Mother
When a Dowager Queen is the mother of the reigning monarch, they are often informally known as ‘Queen Mother.’ It is rarely an official style. But it was from 1952 – 2002. Because of confusion potentially arising from the presence of two Queen Elizabeths at the same time, the mother of the current Queen officially assumed the style ‘Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother.’ However, servants and those ‘close’ to her referred to her simply as ‘Queen Elizabeth.’
It is important to note, that the mother of monarch cannot be given Queen Mother status is she were never a Queen herself. As such the mothers of Edward IV, Henry VII and Queen Victoria were never styled as ‘Queen Mother’. Though in the case of the first two, they were effectively treated as such.
The widowed Queen Elizabeth officially adopted the title ‘Queen Mother’
Queen Regent
These are rare. If a King were absent for a period of time, he may leave his wife in charge. As such, she would become ‘Queen Regent’ and exercise the Royal prerogative on his behalf.
The style would typically only last a few weeks. Both Katherine of Aragon and Katherine Parr enjoyed this distinction during the reign of Henry VIII.
There are occasions where the arrangement lasts longer. Mary de Guise was Queen Regent of Scotland during the long minority of her daughter.
It is highly unlikely that we will ever see another Queen Regent in the UK. The creation of ‘Councillors of State’ removes the need for short-term regency. Were a regency ever required to deal with an under-age or incapacitated monarch, law dictates that this role should go to the next adult in the line of succession. A Queen Consort could never be that person.
Katherine Parr briefly ruled England as regent
Hope this helps!
So – here’s the question Royal History Geeks: who is your favourite Queen of each type and why?
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
For many years ‘The Wars of the Roses’ were confined to a paragraph or two in the introduction to Tudor history books. We, the readers, had to endure just a few lines about random battles, murderous uncles and cooky Plantagenet cousins. If we did, we knew we’d be treated to tales of religious reform, six wives and female succession.
But we didn’t know what we were missing. Under the skilful craftmanship of Dan Jones, this series of bloody conflicts finally take their place in the spotlight.
The 370-page publication spans a 45-year time period and touches on the reigns on five kings. But despite the breadth of the topic, Jones paints a vivid and detailed picture of the breakdown of England’s political system and the lust for power that followed it.
The book begins with the marriage of Henry VI’s parents. By beginning the narrative here rather than an earlier point in history, Jones is implicitly nailing his colours to the mast. Committed to the Tudor perspective that the conflicts have their origins in the downfall of Richard II? You’re going to disappointed. Sympathetic to the Whig notion that Edward III doomed his descendants to disaster? Look away now. Like recent scholarship, Jones roots the cause of conflict squarely in the ineffectual kingship of the last Lancastrian ruler.
As Henry grows, his inability to perform even the most basic facet of Kingship becomes increasingly obvious. For the best part of two decades the political establishments attempts to create a mechanism for governing England without a functioning monarch. But in the run up to 1450 it all came crumbling down
The 1450s is a decade of battles, high politics and low humanity. With vivid storytelling the author brings them to life. Characters like Margaret of Anjou, Richard of York and a succession of Somerset Dukes become real to us. Jones correctly notes that it is not until York puts his hand on the throne and claims the crown in 1460, that the Wars of the Roses can truly be called a dynastic conflict.
The book bounces through the early years of Yorkist rule under Edward IV. Like most accounts of the era, it focuses on his unpopular marriage to Elizabeth Wydeville, which in turn leads to a rebellion by Warwick and the second phases of the wars. The rest of Edward’s reign is centred on the fallout with his brother, Clarence. Eventually we follow the dramatic events of Edwards’s death, the brief succession of his son and Gloucester’s usurpation of the throne as Richard III. The author does well not to dwell on the fate of the princes in the tower. As Alison Weir has demonstrated, that topic requires a book of its own. (But let’s be honest, we all now Richard did it.)
In events familiar to Royal History Geeks, Henry VII ultimately wins the crown at Bosworth field. He holds the throne for almost 25 years and is succeeded by his son. But it is years before he is free from the threats of pretenders.
Like its predecessor, ‘The Plantagenets’, the book is ambitious in its scale. As a result, it cannot focus on any of either Edward IV or Henry VII’s reign in detail. But it does provide a cohesive overview that is essential for anyone looking to study either king in greater depth.
The book is lively and well crafted. Some of the sentences are almost poetic. It’s clear from the first few pages that Jones has grown as a writer since 2012’s ‘The Plantagenets’. (This may sound a little patronising. Let me be clear: I would give my right arm to be able to write a book as good as the Plantagenets.)
But perhaps the greatest achievement of this book is the way it makes ‘recent’ and innovative scholarship accessible. In the last three decades, historians such as John Watts and Christine Carpenter have boldly attempted to reconstruct the Kingship of Henry VI. They drive home its fundamental inadequacy from its inception. Jones’s work is the first attempt I have come across to draw on this scholarship and present it in the popular genre.
Since the discovery of Richard III’s remains, interest in the Wars of the Roses has reached fever pitch. Source material is scant and scholarship is complicated. But through well-written and beautifully crafted accounts like this, the public can access the latest thinking, correct misconceptions that arise from fiction and get a grip on one of England’s most intriguing sagas. Dan Jones sets the standard. If only more would rise to it.
The Hollow Crown – The Wars of the Roses and the Rise of the Tudors, is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
That’s about the sum of Tudor history I picked up at school. Against the backdrop of a blackboard, a cold classroom and an uninspired teacher, the history of England seemed about as exciting as a wet weekend in Brighton.
But years later I would learn the truth. That I was lucky enough to inhabit an island brimming with a history of drama that even fiction writers would be unable to fabricate. A big part of that realisation begun when, before a long train journey, I purchased a copy of the intrepid ‘Six Wives’ by David Starkey.
Starkey – as many will know – has an academic background. The book is dense with research. But there is not a dry paragraph in this 795-page epic. I have read three collective biographies of the six Tudor Queens. Starkey’s is the most readable. Combining wit and a touch of sass with well-formed sentences and colourful language, the book is as gripping as a thriller.
The early pages follow Katherine of Aragon as she sets sail for a new life in England and marriage to Arthur, Prince of Wales. It takes us through her destitute widowhood and her ultimate triumph upon marriage to the 18-year-old Henry VIII. We explores her active role in government and regency of England before her marriage is doomed by a failure to produce a son, a prickling of the King’s conscience and the rise of Anne Boleyn.
The King’s ‘great matter’ (the divorce of Katherine and marriage to Anne) dominates the next section of the book. Henry’s second Queen emerges as a wily and aggressive manipulator. But Starkey is not without sympathy. He is clear that she is not guilty of the crimes she loses her head for. And, unlike some historians, he is not prepared to let Henry off the hook.
Jane Seymour emerges. Jane Seymour gives birth. Jane Seymour dies. Anne of Cleves and Katherine Howard both give the reader an interesting interlude. The book concludes with Katherine Parr, the canny reformer who published books, kept her head and briefly ruled England.
Starkey has shown great wisdom in the tome’s structure. Implicitly he accepts that each Queen is not equal in significance. Jane Seymour’s legacy is essentially confined to one act of childbirth. Anne of Cleves and Katherine Howard are marginal in their impact. The intellectual Starkey holds a torch for blue stocking Katherine Parr. But it is Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn who shaped the character of Henry, his actions as king and the fate of the nation. Together they claim 73% of the book’s content.
Starkey is surely right to devote the bulk of the book to the first two Queen’s. But as a result, the rest of the reigns feel a little like a flash in the pan. But then, this is probably how they felt to contemporaries.
Because of the strong narrative, colourful language and modern colloquialisms, Starkey’s work has attracted criticism from other academics. No doubt some of it is valid – though we must be mindful of the presence of the green-eyed monster. But it is through writing in this accessible and compelling manner that Starkey and others have rescued the stories of Henry’s wives from the doldrums of the classroom. They have inspired documentaries, historical fiction and other popular biographies.
These women played their part in shaping our history. Thanks to books like ‘Six Wives’, a popular appreciation of their significance continues to grow.
Six Wives, the Queens of Henry VIII, is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
Ten years ago, most people had never heard the name Margaret Beaufort. The mother of the Tudors may have been significant to history, but she was lacking a popular profile.
How times have changed.
Thanks to an explosion of interest in the latter half of the 15th century, fuelled in part by a wealth of historical fiction, Margaret has shot to fame. Or perhaps ‘infamy’.
For whatever reason, script writers and novelists have chosen to portray Margaret as a sinister character. And for many people, fiction has been taken as fact.
It’s time for the truth to be told. And in ‘the Uncrowned Queen’ that’s exactly what Nicola Tallis sets out to do.
The beginning of the book details the history of the Beaufort family and sets Margaret’s birth in the context of her royal descent from Edward III. So often the Beauforts are simply a footnote in the Tudor origin story. Readers will appreciate the attention that Tallis gives them.
As Margaret is born, readers quickly get a sense of how the tumultuous turns of fortune’s wheel will dominate her life. By the time she is a year old, her father is dead. She is one of England’s richest heiresses. But she is also without a protector.
By the age of 13, Margaret is both a widow and a teenage mother. She marries twice more before playing her famous role in the downfall of Richard III. Tallis depicts Margaret as a woman who was a natural risk taker but became more cautious following a miscalculation in 1469. But as Richard’s regime crumbled, she sensed her opportunity. Once again, she through caution to the wind.
Upon her son’s ascension, Margaret becomes known as ‘My lady, the King’s mother.’ And from this point on, records become plentiful. Tallis uses the vast sources to great effect, painting a glorious picture of Margaret’s later year. Yes, she was pious and invested in learning. But as her household accounts reveal, she also liked the finer things in life.
Some have criticised the book for being the ‘account that Margaret would have wanted written.’ One that emphasises Margaret’s qualities but fails to explore some of her less pleasant characteristics. But all this really means is that the author has spent little time addressing the accusations that popular fiction has thrown Margaret’s way. And why should she? They aren’t based on historical fact.
The hardback book is beautifully produced. Margaret would have been proud to find her portrait positioned above the Beaufort portcullis and inbetween two mythical Yales from the Beaufort crest. The typeface throughout the biography is both pretty and easy to read. The book contains two sections of stunning imagery.
To many Royal History Geeks, the outline of Margaret’s life will be well known. What I particularly like about this book is the colour it adds to the picture. Descriptions of the houses and castles in which Margaret dwelled helps us picture her in situ. Analysis of her household accounts give a glimpse into her character.
Misunderstandings around the character of Margaret Beaufort are set to continue. Such is the power of fiction and social media certainly doesn’t help. But for people really wanting to delve into the history of the woman who gave birth to the Tudor dynasty, it’s reassuring to know that ‘the truth is out there.’ Much of it can be found in this excellent biography.
Uncrowned Queen, the Fateful Life of Margaret Beaufort, Tudor Matriarch, is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
The heart of Katherine of Aragon emanates from her surviving letters. Everybody has an opinion about Anne Boleyn. But Jane Seymour, the third wife of Henry VIII, is a more elusive figure.
One of her brothers would become a major political player. Another would gain a reputation as a scoundrel. Her son would oversee sweeping religious reforms. But what do we truly know of the woman herself?
Combining her gifts of imagination and empathy with innovative new research, Alison Weir gives us a glimpse of the answer. In the third of Weir’s historical novels on the wives of Henry VIII, Jane steps forward as a kind, nurturing woman who was not afraid to go for what she wanted when she believed it was right.
As the book begins, we meet a young Jane growing up at Wolf Hall. As a girl, she ponders a career as a nun. But then her tranquil life is disrupted by the revelation of a scandal.
Jane ultimately decides to pursue the path of court service and the hope of an honourable marriage. During her time in the Queen’s household, Jane grows in devotion to Katherine of Aragon. She forms a loyalty to her and her daughter Mary that will last a lifetime.
This loyalty to Katherine is intuitively used to explain Jane’s motivation as the book progresses. It makes it credible that the usually demure and chaste Jane eventually seizes her opportunity with the King. It makes it believable that such a kind-hearted woman could act as an accomplice to the downfall of Anne Boleyn. It also helps explain her determination to see the Lady Mary restored to favour.
But Weir’s Jane is not a two-dimensional character. She feels guilt around her role in Anne’s demise. The late Queen may have departed the mortal coil, but as the book’s title suggests, she never quite leaves Jane’s thoughts.
As the book ends, Weir experiments with some new theories on the nature of the illness that caused Jane’s tragic and premature death. While I can’t relate to this personally, it’s clear from the reaction to the book that this has deeply touched a number of women who have themselves been through a difficult childbirth. The book may be based on characters who lived 500 years ago. But it touches the hearts of people today.
The book is written in a flowing, legato style. Happily, it is heavy on dialogue. As with all Alison Weir fiction books, it features an author’s note that sets out what is historical fact, what is imagined and what is invented. As a true Royal History Geek, my only complaint is that I wish the note were 10 times longer. But fear note fanatics: the author has teased that an updated version of her 1991 ‘Six Wives’ factual epic may hit shelves in the future.
Historical fiction will always divide opinion. When an author pens a fictional account, it is free from footnotes, source criticism and histography. They must choose a path to the exclusion of all others. Not everyone will agree with Weir’s interpretation.
But even those that don’t are likely to recognise ‘The Haunted Queen’ as an example of historical fiction at its best. It opens a door to the past and offers us a moment of escape. But it also helps us to realise that while the setting, culture and expectations are different, the trials of humanity are common to all of us. Factual history helps us to understand our forebears. Historical fiction gives us a chance to share their humanity.
Six Tudor Queens: Jane Seymour – The Haunted Queen is available from Amazon.
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