Catherine of Aragon

On January 29 1536, Catherine of Aragon was buried at Peterborough Abbey (later cathedral). She had requested to be buried at a monastery belonging to the Franciscan Observant Friars but this request was turned down as the ‘friars’ convents no longer existed’ (Tremlett, p. 426).

Catherine’s funeral service was for a dowager princess and not a queen, for this reason Eustace Chapuys chose not to attend. Henry did not attend either, instead remaining at Greenwich and refused to allow Mary to attend her mother’s funeral.

Details of the funeral are given in Letters and Papers Foreign and Domestic. The procession left for Peterborough in the following order,

“First, 16 priests or clergymen in surplices went on horseback, without saying a word, having a gilded laten cross borne before them; after them several gentlemen, of whom there were only two of the house, “et le demeurant estoient tous emprouvez,” and after them followed the maître d’hotel and chamberlain, with their rods of office in their hands; and, to keep them in order, went by their sides 9 or 10 heralds, with mourning hoods and wearing their coats of arms; after them followed 50 servants of the aforesaid gentlemen, bearing torches and “bâtons allumés,” which lasted but a short time, and in the middle of them was drawn a waggon, upon which the body was drawn by six horses all covered with black cloth to the ground. The said waggon was covered with black velvet, in the midst of which was a great silver cross; and within, as one looked upon the corpse, was stretched a cloth of gold frieze with a cross of crimson velvet, and before and behind the said waggon stood two gentlemen ushers with mourning hoods looking into the waggon, round which the said four banners were carried by four heralds and the standards with the representations by four gentlemen. Then followed seven ladies, as chief mourners, upon hackneys, that of the first being harnessed with black velvet and the others with black cloth. After which ladies followed the waggon of the Queen’s gentlemen; and after them, on hackneys, came nine ladies, wives of knights. Then followed the waggon of the Queen’s chambermaids; then her maids to the number of 36, and in their wake followed certain servants on horseback.”

Peterborough Cathedral

Catherine’s body was received at Peterborough abbey by

“the bishops of Lincoln, Ely, and Rochester, the abbot of the place, and the abbots of Ramsey, Crolain (Crowland), Tournan (Thorney), Walden and Thaem (Tame), who, wearing their mitres and hoods, accompanied it in procession till it was placed under the chapelle ardente which was prepared for it there, upon eight pillars of beautiful fashion and roundness, upon which were placed about 1,000 candles, both little and middle-sized, and round about the said chapel 18 banners waved..” (Letters & Papers)

Solemn vigils were said that day and on the next day three masses by three bishops: the first by the bishop of Rochester, the second by the bishop of Ely and the third by the bishop of Lincoln.

Portrait by Hans Eworth of either Lady Eleanor Brandon or her daughter, Lady Margaret.

Lady Eleanor Brandon, daughter of the Duke of Suffolk and Mary Tudor, acted as chief mourner. After the mass, Catherine’s body was buried ‘in a grave at the lowest step of the high altar, over which they put a simple black cloth.’ (Letters & Papers)

And so ended the funeral of Catherine of Aragon, who as far as her supporters were concerned, had been England’s true Queen for 27 years.

On the very same day, the woman who now held the title of Queen of England, Anne Boleyn, miscarried. Read more about this significant event here.

After the turmoil Catherine faced in life, it seems that still trouble followed her in death. In 1643 Oliver Cromwell’s troops ransacked the cathedral, despoiling Catherine’s tomb, but in the 19^th century an appeal was made to Englishwomen who were also named Catherine (or Katharine etc.) and raised enough money to put a new stone on Catherine’s tomb (Tremlett, p. 426).

Today you can visit the Abbey and see Catherine’s final resting place. A wooden plaque on her tomb remembers her as: ‘A queen cherished by the English people for her loyalty, piety, courage and compassion’.

Tomb of Catherine of Aragon at Peterborough Cathedral

Each year Peterborough Cathedral commemorates the life of Catherine of Aragon by hosting a festival and service. Find out more information here.

Read in more detail about Catherine’s death in my article here.

References

Miniature Whistle Pendant - possibly a gift from Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn

By family tradition, Henry VIII’s first gift to Anne Boleyn was a gold and enamel ‘pendant in the form of a pistol, chased with scrolling foliage’ (Starkey, 1991, p. 115).

A snake is entwined around the barrel and it contains ‘a set of tooth and ear picks, with spear, scythe and spatula shaped blades’ (Starkey, 2003, p.11).

The whistles were designed like pieces of jewellery and used to summon servants and hounds (Starkey, 2003, p.11). In this portrait of Nicholas Bacon we see him wearing one shaped like a dragon.

Sir Nicholas Bacon, 1579.

These devices were sewn onto the King’s masque costumes in large quantities. In September 1510, Robert Amadas was paid £266 for ‘wreaths, hearts and roses of fine gold’; of which many were ‘lost off the King’s back’, stolen or ‘given away at his pleasure.’ (Starkey, 1991, p. 115)

A separate tradition has Anne Boleyn giving this pendant to a Captain Gwyn, officer of the guard, who supposedly escorted her to the scaffold on the morning of her execution. She is said to have given this to him in acknowledgement of his ‘respectful conduct’ and told him that it had been the King’s first gift to her and ‘that a serpent formed part of the device, and a serpent the giver had proved to her.’ (Weir, p. 265)

According to Weir, Agnes Strickland discovered that the Gwyn family still owned the trinket in the 1840s, however Weir doubts the authenticity of the tale.

Professor Ives in The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn echoes these sentiments,

‘There is no contemporary record of Anne giving gifts on the scaffold, which must cast doubt on the pendant supposedly given to a Captain Gwyn’ (p. 407).

Apart from there being no contemporary record, one must seriously question whether Anne would have so publicly criticised the King knowing that this would seriously jeopardise the safety of those that would be left behind – most importantly, her two year old daughter Elizabeth.

Furthermore, it was simply not in keeping with Tudor scaffold etiquette. When considering how Anne could have gone to her death without protesting her innocence, instead acquiescing in such injustice, Ives points out,

‘Convention demanded it; religion demanded it, and it would be Elizabeth who would suffer from the luxury of defying the king and his supposed justice.’ (p. 358).

Anne Boleyn’s scaffold speech makes the pendant tale all the more unlikely,

Good Christian people, I am come hither to die, according to the law, for by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I come here only to die, and thus to yield myself humbly to the will of the King, my lord. And if, in my life, I did ever offend the King’s Grace, surely with my death I do now atone. I come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak anything of that whereof I am accused, as I know full well that aught I say in my defence doth not appertain to you. I pray and beseech you all, good friends, to pray for the life of the King, my sovereign lord and yours, who is one of the best princes on the face of the earth, who has always treated me so well that better could not be, whereof I submit to death with good will, humbly asking pardon of all the world. If any person will meddle with my cause, I require them to judge the best. Thus I take my leave of the world, and of you, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me. Oh Lord, have mercy on me! To God I commend my soul.

The pendant is now housed in the British Galleries in room 58E of the Victoria and Albert Museum, London.

Chapel Royal St. Peter Ad Vincula

1535 – John Fisher Bishop of Rochester

Executed on Tower Hill 22 June 1535

John Fisher by Hans Holbein the Younger

1535 – Sir Thomas More

Executed on Tower Hill 6 July 1535

Thomas More

1536 – George Boleyn, Viscount Rochford

Executed on Tower Hill 17 May 1536

1536 – Queen Anne Boleyn

Executed on Tower Green May 19 1536

Queen Anne Boleyn

1540 – Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex

Executed on Tower Hill 28 July 1540

Thomas Cromwell by Hans Holbein the Younger

1541 – Margaret of Clarence, Countess of Salisbury

Executed on Tower Green 27 May 1541

Portrait of an unknown woman traditionally thought to be Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury

1542 – Queen Katharine Howard

Executed on Tower Green 13 February 1542

Portrait miniature by Hans Holbein the younger.

1542 – Jane Boleyn Vicountess Rochford (not included on the plaque)

Executed on Tower Green 13 February 1542

1549 – Thomas Lord Seymour of Sudeley

Executed on 20 March 1549

1552 (Actual plaque states 1551) – Edward Seymour Duke of Somerset

Executed on Tower Hill 22 January 1552

Edward Seymour Duke of Somerset

1552 – Sir Ralph Vane

Hanged on Tower Hill 26 February 1552

1552 – Sir Thomas Arundel

Executed on Tower Hill 26 February 1552

1553 – John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland

Executed on Tower Hill 22 August 1553

John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland

1554 – Lord Guildford Dudley

Executed on Tower Hill 12 February 1554

1554 – Lady Jane Grey

Executed on Tower Green 12 February 1554

Lady Jane Grey, engraving published 1620

1554 – Henry Grey, Duke of Suffolk

Executed on Tower Hill 28 February 1554

1572 – Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk

Executed on Tower Hill 2 June 1572

Thomas Howard, 4th Duke of Norfolk

1592 – Sir John Perrott

Died whilst in custody in the Tower on 3 November 1592

Sir John Perrott

1595 – Phillip, Earl of Arundel (In 1624 his body was moved to the Fitzalan Chapel located on the western grounds of Arundel Castle. His tomb was moved to the Catholic Arundel Cathedral in 1971 and remains a site of pilgrimage.)

Arundel spent ten years incarcerated in the Tower of London while charges of high treason were investigated but never proved. He died of dysentery on 19 October 1595 and was immediately acclaimed as a Catholic Martyr.

Phillip, Earl of Arundel

1601 – Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex

Executed on Tower Green 25 February 1601

Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex by Isaac Oliver, c. 1597

Tower of London Monument

In the Tower of London a monument marks the site of the scaffold (now understood to be a short distance away from the actual scaffold site) where seven famous prisoners were privately executed. On the 19th May 1536, Anne was the first woman to suffer death by beheading for treason. She was followed by four other women: Margaret Pole the Countess of Salisbury (1541), Katherine Howard (1542), Jane- Viscountess Rochford (1542) and Lady Jane Grey (1554).

The two men were William Hastings (1483) and Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex (1601).

Tower Monument

The poem written on the monument reads:

Gentle visitor pause awhile, where you stand death cut away the light of many days. Here jewelled names were broken from the vivid thread of life, may they rest in peace while we walk the generations around their strife and courage under these restless skies.

Katherine Parr's tomb, Chapel of St. Mary at Sudeley

I have just added a new resource to the website called ‘Tudor Tombs and Burials’. In this section I have documented the final resting place of the Tudor monarchs, Henry VIII’s wives and other notable Tudor personalities.

I have included photos of the tombs where permissible and welcome any photos that you might have in your collection, along with suggestions for additional entries.

As well as being fascinated by visiting locations where the Tudors went about their daily business, I am intrigued by the thought of standing close to where their physical remains are interred. There is something very special about this proximity.

I hope you find this resource useful and interesting!

Click here for Tudor Tombs and Burials.

Henry VIII's writing desk, c.1525 V&A Museum

This exquisite writing box was made c. 1525 almost certainly in the court workshops of Henry VIII.

It is lined with leather and painted with the heraldic badges of Henry and his first wife, Catherine of Aragon. It is also decorated with the royal coat of arms.

The box, or writing desk as it is sometimes referred to, is now housed in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Click here to read a detailed description of this Tudor treasure.

Although the history of the box is uncertain, it is thought that the box could have been a royal gift. It might even have been a gift for Henry VIII or Catherine of Aragon.

This box is a rare example of the luxurious furnishings of the Tudor royal palace.  See the intricate design and details of the box in this fascinating video presented by the V & A Museum.

(Click here to view the video)

If only more of these treasures had survived.

I love having such talented readers who are willing to share their interests and expertise with us all. Thank you Katherine!

Mary Rose: The Princess and The Ship

A guest post by Katherine Marcella

Everybody knows the pride of Henry VIII’s war fleet, the Mary Rose, was named after Henry’s sister, Princess Mary Rose.  Right?  Well, almost, but not quite…

Henry VIII after his coronation in 1509

When Henry VIII came to the throne in 1509, he foresaw a threat to England from the powerful fleets of France and Scotland and immediately began shoring up England’s navy which had not been a priority during his father’s reign. He made a half-hearted attempt to diguise his efforts by claiming his new ships were merely pleasure vessels for the use of his family. It’s doubtful he fooled anybody, but among the first ships to be completed were the Henry Grace a Dieu, Catherine Pleasaunce, Peter Pomegranate — and the Mary Rose.

Her story is as murky as the waters of the Solent that hid her for 437 years. There is no extant documentation of her design.  Construction may have begun as early as 1509 and documents from 1509 and 1510 show authorizations of construction materials for the building (most likely in Portsmouth) of a large ship that was eventually towed to London for final rigging and outfitting before joining the navy as a full-fledged combat ship.  Even this early she or possibly another ship – as I said, it’s extremely murky — was being listed in documents as the Mary Rose (or Maryrose or even Marie Roze).  She saw service as Lord High Admiral Edward Howard’s flagship in 1512 and 1513 in a combined English-Spanish-Empire campaign against the French.

By early 1514 the political winds had shifted.  King Ferdinand of Spain and the Emperor Maximilian conspired behind Henry’s back to arrange a separate treaty with the French against England. Henry was livid. He started immediate negotiations with the newly-widowed Louis XII of France for a marriage between Louis and his own beloved younger sister, Mary Tudor, then around seventeen.  By July, 1514, the agreement with Louis was secured, and Henry was ready to break Mary’s long-standing engagement to Prince Charles of Castile, the grandson of both Ferdinand and Maximilian.  Securing Mary’s agreement to this was another matter.

Mary Tudor by unknown artist

Mary Tudor was an unusual princess in an age that cared little for the personal feelings of royalty, male or female. As a child, she was betrothed to the younger Charles in 1507, a betrothal firmly anchored in politics.  The negotiations waffled on for years: They should marry now. No, they should wait. The terms aren’t good. Perhaps this isn’t the best match we could get. Perhaps we should discuss this further.  The result was that Mary wasn’t married off early as her older sister Margaret had been. She remained in England and had free reign at her brother’s court.

She shone brightly there.  As her brother’s preferred dance partner in court frivolities, she came to the attention of virtually all the ambassadors to the English court whose collective description of her was middling tall, blonde, stunningly gorgeous, and unbelievably charming.

Mary was not unduly unhappy at the dissolution of her betrothal, but neither was she interested in marrying the elderly king of France. Apparently she was won over when her brother promised her that after Louis’s death, she could marry as she pleased.

But the marriage to Louis was short-lived, lasting only about ten weeks.  In poor health even before the marriage, he died on January 1, 1515.  His new widow’s immediate concern was to avoid being married off by either the new French king, Francis I, or her brother.  Both were eager to use her as a pawn in the chessboard of European politics.  Tudor that she was, Mary played them off against each other.  To Henry she merely promised she would not let Francis choose a husband for her.  To Francis, she was a bit more forthcoming, admitting that the man she was in love with — the only man she would ever marry — was Henry’s close friend, Charles Brandon, the Duke of Suffolk.

Francis was disappointed, but somewhat mollified by the thought that Henry was going to be equally thwarted.  As for Henry, he very conveniently sent Charles over to negotiate the return of the dowry and escort the widow home.  It’s hard to know for certain what Charles and Mary had planned beforehand, but they secretly married almost immediately in Paris.  I’ve always thought they decided it would be easier to obtain forgiveness than permission, and presenting Henry with a fait accompli would take away any temptation on his part to try to change Mary’s mind about another royal marriage.

Mary Tudor and Charles Brandon

By April of that year, they had resolved the dowry issue and obtained permission to return to England. Henry met with the newlyweds near Dover and, just to make certain there could be no legal objections raised over a marriage in France, he arranged for them to be married again at Greenwich on May 13, 1515.

If the Mary Rose had indeed been named after Mary Tudor, it would have been only natural for that ship to take Mary and her entourage to France or Mary and her new husband back to England.  But that doesn’t seem to have been the case, and after early 1514 there is no mention of the Mary Rose until the autumn of 1518 when she and several other ships were laid up for caulking.

During this time another ship came to be associated with Mary Tudor Brandon.  On October 29, 1515, this ship was sailed to Greenwich where amid many prayers and much music, Katherine of Aragon christened her the Virgin Mary.  The Venetian ambassador, who was present and described the ceremony, stated that everybody immediately began referring to her as the Princess Mary in honor of Henry’s sister who also attended the ceremony. A royal banquet on deck followed, and Henry, a gold whistle around his neck, then proceeded to personally steer the ship down the Thames.

I find it odd that there would be two ships named after the same person, especially in such a short time span.  That more than anything else leads me to believe the Mary Rose was not named after Mary Tudor — at least initially.

The Mary Rose as depicted in the Anthony Roll

I think there is an outside chance that the ship known as the Princess Mary may actually have been the Mary Rose which isn’t recorded as having ever had a christening.  Christening rules seem to have been very loose, with no set time frame in which the ceremony should be conducted, so it’s not out of the question that Henry might have decided to hold a splashy ceremony for one of the largest ships in his navy and honor his sister at the same time.

I could find nothing in the known history of the Mary Rose to contradict this possibility.  Nor could I find any further mention of a ship known as the Virgin Mary or the Princess Mary.  This would be an interesting project for anybody with better access to Tudor maritime records than I currently have to investigate.  I would love to see what turns up.

Even if they aren’t the same ship, it’s possible the elaborate ceremony and the similarity of names may have blurred in the public mind and created an association of Mary Tudor with the Mary Rose where one had never really existed.

The Cowdray Engraving, depicting the Battle of the Solent.

Through the years the Mary Rose eventually saw further action against the French and possibly against the Scots until her sinking in the Solent at Portsmouth Harbor on July 9, 1545.

As for Mary Tudor Brandon, she died in 1533, her association with the ship already firmly established by her death.  But was her name really Mary Rose?  No.  Middle names were almost unheard of in Tudor times and were completely unheard of for royalty.  There is no reference or documentation during Mary Tudor’s lifetime that would even suggest a possibility she had a middle name.

I haven’t been able to determine exactly when she was first called “Mary Rose”, but I believe it is a 20th-century phenomenon.  The earliest biography I have of Mary is Mary Croom Brown’s Mary Tudor, Queen of France, published in 1911, which does not call her Mary Rose nor does it even mention a possible connection between the Princess and the ship. Other biographers also seem to have been careful in this respect, but popular literature is another matter.  I haven’t read every romance novel about Mary, but I just gathered together all the ones I do have and checked them.  Every last one of them calls her “Mary Rose”.

I can’t say I really blame them.  It’s a very pretty name that they would certainly want to associate with a pretty princess.  Combine that with the serious attempts to salvage the Mary Rose that began in the 1970′s and brought the ship into the public consciousness and the renewed interest in the Tudors that has shown itself in numerous books, television programs, and movies.  The result is almost inevitable. In addition, the name is very practical. It serves to distinguish Mary from Mary Tudor, her niece and namesake. Google “Mary Rose Tudor” and you will get numerous questions and discussions on Tudor sites that refer to her by that name.

For better or worse, where once there was a 16th-century ship that came to be associated with a princess in the popular mind, now there is a princess who is being renamed after that ship in the 21st-century mind.

On the Tudor Trail is trying to raise much needed funds for the Mary Rose Appeal and needs your help! Read full details of how you can contribute here.

The Mary Rose Appeal

Queen Anne Boleyn

This is the fourth of a series of letters that I will be publishing written by Anne Boleyn to Cardinal Wolsey between 1528-1529. Read all the letters here.

Anne Boleyn to Cardinal Wolsey c. 1529

My Lord,

After my most humble recommendations, this shall be to give unto your grace, as I am most bound, my humble thanks for the pain and travail that your grace doth take in studying, by your wisdom and great diligence, how to bring pass honourably the greatest wealth that is possible to come to any creature living, and in especial remembering how wretched and unworthy I am in comparing to his highness. And for you, I do know myself never to have deserved by my deserts that you should take this great pain for me; yet daily of your goodness I do perceive by all my friends, and though that I had no knowledge of them, the daily proof of your deeds doth declare your words and writing towards me to be true.

Now good my lord, your discretion may consider as yet how little it is in my power to recompense you, but all only with my goodwill, the which I assure you, that after this matter is brought to pass you shall find me, as I am bound in the mean time, to owe you my service, and then look what thing in this world I can imagine to do pleasure in, you shall find me the gladdest woman in the world to do it. And next unto the kings grace, of one thing I make you full promise to be assured to have it, and that is my hearty love unfeignedly during my life; and being fully determined, with God’s grace, never to change this purpose, I make an end of this my rude and true-meaning letter, praying our Lord to send you much increase of honour, with long life.

Written with the hand of her that beseeches your grace to accept this letter as proceeding from on the is most bound to be

Your humble and obedient servant,

ANNE BOLEYN

It is often stated that Anne entered the Tower via ‘Traitor’s Gate’, the gate below St. Thomas’s Tower, but this is unlikely.

Traitor's Gate, Tower of London

In Charles Wriothesley’s, A Chronicle of England during the Reigns of the Tudors, from A.D. 1485 to 1559 Vol. 1, he states that

“Anne Bolleine was brought to the Towre of London by my
Lord Chauncelor, the Duke of Norfolke, Mr. Secretarie, and
Sir William Kingston, Constable of the Tower; and when she
came to the court gate, entring in, she fell downe on her knees
before the said lordes, beseeching God to helpe her as she was
not giltie of her a accusement, and also desired the said lordes
to beseech the Kinges grace to be good unto her, and so they left her their prisoner.” (Pg. 36)

There is also a note included stating that ‘court gate’ was referred to as ‘Towergate’ in Stow.

If we look closely at this plan of the Tower of London labelled, “A True and Exact Draught of the TOWER LIBERTIES, survey’d in the Year 1597 by GULIELMUS HAIWARD and J. GASCOYNE” and compare it to the plan of the Tower of London provided by Historic Royal Palaces here, we can see that the building that is labelled ‘The Tower at the Gate’ (B) is today known as the Byward Tower.

Plan of the Tower of London, 1597.

In Alison Weir’s, ‘The Lady in the Tower’, when speaking about Anne’s arrival to the Tower after her arrest, Weir states that

‘The oarsmen steered the vessel towards the Byward Tower, then known as the Tower by the Gate, and Anne ‘came to the Court Gate’ (Pg. 135).

She goes on to say that,

‘It is often incorrectly stated that she entered the Tower through the water gate below St Thomas’s Tower, which later became known as Traitor’s Gate, but in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries it was usual for kings and queens to use the Court Gate in the Byward Tower, the private entrance to the Tower of London from Tower Wharf.’

The Tower of London’s official guidebook also states that the private entrance ‘which gave access to the Tower from the wharf…was often used by royalty in the 15^th and 16^th centuries.’ Pg. 8

Although originally constructed by Edward I, the gate through which Anne passed, dates from the 15^th century.

After disembarking the boat and climbing the stairs on to the wharf, Anne Boleyn would have crossed the drawbridge and entered the Byward postern gate, exiting onto Water Lane,

‘the thoroughfare in the Outer Ward that runs parallel with the River Thames, and it was just a short walk along there, past the rear of the Lieutenant’s House on the left, to the entrance to the palace, where the Queen was to be lodged’ (Weir, Pg. 136).

The Queen's Stairs, Tower of London

Drawbridge leading to the Byward postern gate

Another view of the drawbridge and postern entrance. In Anne's time the moat was filled and so the bridge was needed to cross into the Tower.

On the Tudor Trail reader, Katherine Marcella, very kindly marked out on this model of the Tower of London the path Anne likely took from the river. The dots end before the royal lodgings as the exact route taken into the palace is unknown.

Anne Boleyn is not the only high ranking prisoner said to have used this entrance. Her daughter, Princess Elizabeth, is thought to have followed in her mother’s footsteps when she arrived at the Tower as a prisoner on 18 March 1554.

I imagine that her mind must have been plagued with thoughts of her mother’s dreadful end only eighteen years earlier.

Note: Images 3-6 are published here with permission of © Katherine Marcella and the last image kindly provided by © Mike Glaeser.

This is the third of a series of letters that I will be publishing written by Anne Boleyn to Cardinal Wolsey between 1528-1529.

Elizbeth Norton notes that in the past it was stated that this letter was addressed to Archbishop Cranmer and not Cardinal Wolsey although Norton believes this to be unlikely.

Anne Boleyn to Cardinal Wolsey

My Lord in my most humble wise I thanke your grace fot the gyft thys Benefice for Master Barlo howbeit this standithe to non Effecte for it is mayd for Tonbridge and I would have it if your plesure war so for Sonbridge for Tonbrig is in my Lord my fathers gyft be a Vowson that he hath and its is not yet Woyd I do trost that your Grace wol graunt hym Sondrig and considering the payne that he hath takyn I do thynke that it shall be vere well bestowyd and in so doing y Rekyn my selfe moche bownde to your grace for all this that hathe takyn payne in the Kynges Matter it shalle by my daylle study to imagyn all the Ways that I can devise to do them servys and plesur and thus I make an end sendyng you agen the letter that you sent me thankyng your Grace most humbley for the payn that you take for to Wryt to me assuryng you that next the kynges letter there is nothing that can rejose me so moche, with the hand of her that is most bownde to be

Your humble and obedient servant

Anne Boleyn

My lord I besyche your grace with all my hart to Remember the Parson of honelayne for my sake shortly.

Source
Norton, E. In Her Own Words & the Words of Those Who Knew Her, 2010.

Finding Anne

Three years ago I had an emotional encounter with a Tudor object. On a visit to Compton Verney in Warwickshire, I saw an exhibition of some of the treasures – paintings and artefacts – that are usually hidden away at Chequers, the country house of the Prime Minister.

In one of the exhibition’s rooms stood a glass case, and inside it lay a ring. A ring I had thought never to see, other than in photographs, in my life.

This ring once graced the finger of Elizabeth I, and was sufficiently dear to her that it was the item taken from her body and carried to James VI of Scotland as proof of her death – clearly, she would never have considered giving it away as a gift.

Miniature enamel portraits of Elizabeth I and Anne Boleyn

On the ring’s top an ‘E’ is picked out in diamonds, but the most precious items are hidden beneath: like a locket, it opens to display two portraits in minutely sculpted and enamelled relief – one of Elizabeth herself and the other of her mother, Anne Boleyn. (You can read more about the ring in Natalie’s article about it here).

Anne was, of course, the mother Elizabeth had hardly known (Anne was executed when Elizabeth was just two and a half). Elizabeth never spoke of Anne publicly, and did not have her body moved to a grander tomb (as James VI and I did for his executed mother, Mary Queen of Scots). This ring is one of the few indications – and certainly the most personal, intimate one – that Anne mattered to Elizabeth. And for me, the most heart-wrenching detail about it is something that is hard to see from photographs but is very clear in real life:

Anne is smiling.

Something that no one did in Tudor portraits. But something that her daughter would want to picture her doing – perhaps even (a long shot, but just maybe) could remember her doing. I find this almost unbearably moving.

No wonder then that, at Compton Verney that day, I bent over the ring for ages, trying (and probably failing) not to annoy other visitors who wanted a look. It was all I could do to stop myself trying to climb into the display case: the magnifying glass provided just did not get me close enough!

What lay behind my enthusiasm? My life-long obsession with Tudor history, yes – but something more specific, too. You see, Anne Boleyn was at the heart of what was then propelling me – urgently, obsessively – to write VIII, my new YA novel about Henry VIII.

The urgency and the obsession came from the fact that I was – I am – convinced that I had something new to say about Henry. Which might sound extraordinary. He is, after all, one of the most familiar figures in British history. But for me, there has always been a gaping hole in his story. Despite all I have read about him, despite all the films and documentaries I have seen, I feel that no one has ever given me a satisfactory explanation of why he did what he did. Yes, he needed a son, yes he was tired of his wife… but other kings of the time found themselves in that position and didn’t react so devastatingly.

Most puzzlingly of all: why did he pursue Anne so passionately for seven years, only to have her executed just three short years later? Even the weeks leading up to her death seem filled with confusing behaviour on his part. Explanations have been offered, of course, but none of them ring entirely true for me; none of them make me identify with Henry. I wanted to put myself right inside his mind, and see those events from his point of view.

So I set out to write VIII, which tells Henry’s story in the first person, following his psychological journey from idealistic, loving, insecure boy to paranoid tyrant – and joining up dots that I haven’t seen joined up before. Henry’s mother, for example, was the sister of the Princes in the Tower – how did that traumatic past affect her relationship with her son? Henry’s father had spent years on the run before he became king – what kind of father did that make him?

I spent many months researching, and many hours talking with psychoanalysts about Henry’s psychological journey – and what an intense, exhilarating and terrifying journey it was! But when at last I felt that I had cracked the conundrum – when I felt I knew how and why Henry acted as he did towards Anne – that was the most exciting eureka moment of my writing career so far. It remains one of the elements of VIII of which I am most proud.

Meanwhile the locket ring is, I assume, back at Chequers (does David Cameron appreciate it sufficiently? Hm? Hm? I think we should be told!). My memories of that day at Compton Verney, however, have certainly not left me. I am currently writing a novel that is, in many ways, the sequel to VIII: it is about the sister-relationship between Henry VIII’s daughters, Mary I and Elizabeth. I know that memories of (and ideas about) Anne Boleyn will loom large for both my protagonists. And as I write, Elizabeth’s locket ring lingers in my mind, as a talisman. I hope that one day I will see it again.

VIII is published in the UK on October 1^st by Templar Publishing and in Australia later this autumn by Penguin.

You can see a trailer for VIII and an interview with H.M. Castor about the book here: www.hmcastor.com

Twitter: @HMCastor