Knights of the Order of the Garter

On 23 April 1536, the annual meeting of the Order of the Garter took place at Greenwich attended by the King and many Lords. It was expected that George Boleyn would be preferred but instead Henry chose Sir Nicholas Carew, ‘Anne’s known enemy and the man who had been mentoring Jane Seymour’ (Weir, pg. 88).

The entry from Letters & Papers reads,

On St. George’s Day, 23 April 28 Hen. VIII., a chapter of the Order of the Garter was held at Greenwich, at which were present the King, the dukes of Richmond and Norfolk, the earls of Northumberland, Westmoreland, Wiltshire, Sussex, Rutland, and Oxford, lord Sandys, and Sir Wm. Fitzwilliam. It was determined to hold the feast on May 21, the earl of Northumberland taking the Sovereign’s place, assisted by the earls of Rutland, Westmoreland, and Oxford, and Sir Wm. Fitzwilliam. Votes were taken for the election of a knight; and the next day, after mass for the dead, the King declared Sir Nic. Carew elected. He was installed when the feast was kept, on May 21. On this occasion the earl of Northumberland was seized with vertigo and weakness, so that it was feared he would not be able to take his part as deputy, but he recovered. The next day the hatchments of the deceased were offered up.

On April 29, Chapuys wrote to Charles V,

The Grand Ecuyer, Mr. Caro, had on St. George’s day the Order of the Garter in the place of the deceased M. de Burgain (lord Abergavenny), to the great disappointment of Rochford, who was seeking for it, and all the more because the Concubine has not had sufficient influence to get it for her brother; and it will not be the fault of the said Ecuyer if the Concubine, although his cousin (quelque, qu. quoique? cousine) be not dismounted. He continually counsels Mrs. Semel and other conspirators “pour luy faire une venue,” and only four days ago he and some persons of the chamber sent to tell the Princess to be of good cheer, for shortly the opposite party would put water in their wine, for the King was already as sick and tired of the concubine as could be; and the brother of lord Montague told me yesterday at dinner that the day before the bishop of London had been asked if the King could abandon the said concubine, and he would not give any opinion to anyone but the King himself, and before doing so he would like to know the King’s own inclination, meaning to intimate that the King might leave the said concubine, but that, knowing his fickleness, he would not put himself in danger. The said Bishop was the principal cause and instrument of the first divorce, of which he heartily repents, and would still more gladly promote this, the said concubine and all her race are such abominable Lutherans. London, 29 April 1536.

Some ominous signs for Anne and the Boleyn faction but as Weir points out in The Lady in the Tower: The Fall of Anne Boleyn, five days later, on April 28, Henry Lord Stafford wrote to the Earl of Westmoreland to thank him for ‘furthering my suit with the Queen.’ Although Chapuys believed that Anne was falling from favour, clearly others still felt her influence intact.

The Crown by Nancy Bilyeau

To celebrate the UK release of the historical thriller ‘The Crown‘ by Nancy Bilyeau, I am delighted to share with you a guest article that Nancy has written about George Boleyn.

I am currently reading The Crown and enjoying every moment of it! I was hooked from the very first line,

“When a burning is announced, the taverns of Smithfield order extra barrels of ale, but when the person to be executed is a woman and one of noble birth, the ale comes by the cartload.”

I relish returning home in the evenings and losing myself in the pages of this truly engrossing story. Here is a little taste…

George Boleyn
By Nancy Bilyeau

On May 15, 1536, took place one of the most sensational trials of the 16^th century. George Boleyn, the brother of Queen Anne, answered charges of high treason—that he had committed incest with his sister and conspired at the king’s death.

Anne Boleyn, second wife of Henry VIII, had directly before been found guilty of treason. A jury declared that she had committed adultery with her brother and four other men. The Lord Mayor of London said, “I could not observe anything in the proceedings against her, but that they were resolved to make an occasion to get rid of her at any price.”

It would seem impossible that any other verdict than guilty could be reached for George Boleyn. Yet after hearing the evidence, Viscount Rochford defended himself “so well that several of those present wagered ten to one that he would be acquitted, especially as no witnesses were produced against him,” said a contemporary.

Read the full article here.

I had read on many occasions that only three of Elizabeth and Thomas’ children had survived to adulthood, the three that would make their mark on history – Mary Boleyn, Anne Boleyn and George Boleyn.

By Thomas Boleyn’s own words, penned in a letter to Cromwell after the deaths of Anne and George, we know that his early years of marriage had been financially straining, he complained:

“When I married I had only £50 a year to live on for me and my wife, so long as my father lived, and yet she brought me every year a child” (Fraser, Pg. 119).

Although the exact date of Thomas and Elizabeth’s marriage is unknown, most historians agree that it took place around 1498-99 and so if we accept Thomas’ words, this means a child in 1499, 1500 and so on until the death of Thomas’ father in 1505.

Joanna Denny in her biography of Anne Boleyn infers that,

‘As they were married in 1498 or 1499 it is probable that by the date of Thomas’s father’s death Elizabeth had perhaps borne five children, of whom only three survived: Mary, Anne and George.’ (Pg. 27)

Eric Ives in his monumental biography on Anne Boleyn states ‘Anne, Mary and George were the only children of Thomas Boleyn to survive to maturity’ (Pg. 14).

David Starkey also states that, ‘Thomas and Elizabeth were married in about 1500 and had their three surviving children in quick succession’ (Pg. 258).

Josephine Wilkinson asserts that the Boleyns welcomed at least three sons, ‘Henry, Thomas and George, although only George would survive to adulthood’ (Pg. 9).

Elizabeth Norton when speaking of Thomas and Elizabeth’s children also affirms, ‘that a number of children died in infancy and the couple’s two eldest sons, Thomas and Henry, certainly died as babies’ (Pg. 11).

Imagine my surprise to read Alison’s claim that ‘four of the children survived infancy’ (Pg. 12) and that ‘Thomas Boleyn’s heir and namesake lived until 1520’ (Pg. 19).

Penshurst Church, Kent

According to Alison Weir, ‘Thomas Bullayne’ is buried in Penshurst Church in Kent and a cross and the date 1520 mark his grave (Pg. 12).

Alison believes that since he was named after his father and grandfather, the Earl of Surrey, he was almost certainly the eldest son (Pg. 19).

There were other children that did not survive infancy although we only know the name of one, Henry Boleyn. He is buried near his father’s tomb in Hever Church; a small brass marks his grave. Alison Weir believe that he probably died young and is likely to have been,

St. Peter's church Hever

“Still alive when he [George] was born in 1502-3; had he not been, this third son might also have been named after the King.” (Pg. 19)

From this information we can conclude that if Thomas Boleyn was older than George he must have been, depending on whether George was born in 1502-03, around 18yrs old at his death.

So why then has he never been mentioned as reaching maturity before now?

If he was Thomas’ eldest son and heir, where was he educated?

So many questions now come to mind and so I will continue to pursue this. I have already contacted Penshurst Church in Kent to see if they have any further information on young Thomas Boleyn.

I would be delighted to hear from anyone that might have visited Penshurst Church and have seen the brass or who might have a photo to share.

It seems we have another Tudor mystery on our hands…

Today’s post is another very interesting read, first published in Solander, the magazine of the historical society and very kindly submitted by author Wendy J. Dunn. Wendy examines history versus fiction in The Other Boleyn Girl.

Enjoy!

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

Historical fiction or populist toss?

WENDY J. DUNN examines history versus fiction in The Other Boleyn Girl

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

Who in this land is fairest of all?

To this the mirror answered: You, my queen, are fairest of all.

Then she was satisfied, for she knew that the mirror spoke the truth.¹

Are we in danger of losing the ability to ask of ourselves what it was like in another time? Have we found it too easy to stamp ourselves on history rather than attempt the portrayal of real history?  Is today’s popular historical fiction mirroring too much our narcissistic, lack-of-substance world rather than faithfully and accurately depicting believable history?

History hooked me line and sinker from early childhood. At ten, my most treasured book was a child’s book of British history, and I read historical fiction in preference to any other type of fiction. I grew up with Rosemary Sutcliffe, Mary Renault, Robert Graves, Margaret Irwin, Winston Graham, and so many other writers who took me on a journey “back then,” made me cry and laugh, strummed my heart and soul like a musical instrument, and returned me from the experience of reading on a wave of emotion, richer and more aware of my humanness and my connection to others. I read and knew I wasn’t alone.

I now not only read historical fiction, but also write it. Most of the time, I wholeheartedly tap into Tudor history – a lusty, vibrant time – for my creative expression. Whether investigating clothes, food, gender roles, religion, family, or even simply how they spoke, I am very aware the Tudors lived in a period very different from my own. While I happily create an imagined historical world framed by thorough research, I don’t believe in going against known history or representing the once-living in a light that cannot be justified.

History shows us who we are – our journey so far, where we have come from, the sum of us. Rather than mirroring the past, I believe too much of today’s historical fiction is coloured by our individualist society with its liking for soap operas and salacious gossip. Entertainment seems to be the god of all, with the heart of good writing, and its moral compass, in danger of being sacrificed on its altar. Instead of providing the meat and substance to help us find meaning in our lives, too many books are written simply to entertain and excite readers, reflecting the shallowness of our society.

Today’s publishing world seems to want writers to depict historically dressed characters who are actually modern and familiar, offering us very little from which we can learn. Increasingly, historical fiction is made more palpable for today’s “Celebrity news hungry” reader. Many publishers seem to believe readers are not really interested in accuracy, as documented and supported by history, but rather a distorted history that no longer respects the people of the past, but which simply, and deliberately, shocks and titillates.

George Santayana once said, “Those who forget the past are condemned to repeat it.”² I’m one of many who agree with this. Historical fiction is the canvas I paint to communicate with people here and now about people of the past. By exploring the lessons of history, we discover how the inner essence of humanity flows down the centuries unchanging. We love, hate, suffer, and experience joy in the same way no matter what period forms the backdrop for our life’s stage.

History belongs to us – we are its children, making our own history. Telling its stories feeds and enriches the human psyche. Metaphorically speaking, historical fiction has us sitting around a roaring camp fire, recounting tales of the past, glorying in our humanity, our sense of belonging, allowing us to embrace the future because history lights our way forward. For me, the lure of historical fiction has always been to discover a candle in the dark.

Yes – historical fiction authors write fiction, but historical fiction should be rooted in the earth and truth of history, otherwise they are simply disguised, alternative histories – and far too often soulless alternative histories.

I write with a responsibility to the people of the past. In my first published novel, Dear Heart, How Like You This?, I carefully considered my representations of historical characters as if they were still alive, able to defend themselves. Many readers believe historical fiction, even if we deny our stories in our author notes. I think we let down ourselves and our readers if we do not write what we can also believe. As Carolyn Heilbrun powerfully says:

We live our lives through texts. They may be read, or chanted, or experienced electronically, or come to us, like the murmurings of our mothers, telling us what conventions demand. Whatever their form or medium, these stories have formed us all; they are what we must use to make new fictions, new narratives.³

I am an admirer of Philippa Gregory’s early work. Historical fiction writers owe a debt to her for helping refire the love of historical fiction. I admit to not wanting to read her award-winning The Other Boleyn Girl (TOBG). Fellow Anne Boleyn devotees told me how black TOBG painted Anne and, as my own research birthed an imagined Anne in Dear Heart, How Like You This?, I just couldn’t bring myself to read it. But curiosity won out. Both book and film have their good points. The film has beautiful costumes and sets. If you disregard (and forgive) Eric Bana’s one-dimensional Henry VIII, most of the roles are strongly played out, and it offers a sense of the choices allowed to women of the period. The history, on the other hand, is a distorted, piecemeal mess. Watching the film, I often winced with discomfort.

Both novel and film show a woman falling foul of her own ambition that drove her from her earliest days. Desperate to get pregnant, Gregory’s Anne, willing to do anything, attempts incest with her brother. The historical evidence points at her death being the result of a political coup; Thomas Cromwell’s machinations removed the queen and, for a time, left him safe to increase his powerbase. Whilst five men were executed prior to Anne Boleyn’s own date with a French headsman, the film shows only the execution of George Boleyn, Anne’s brother. He is portrayed as a wimp – probably, it seemed implied in the film, because he was a homosexual and not a “real man.” Yet another wince. Historically, George tossed caution to the wind at his trial by reading a document which spoke of Henry VIII’s lack of vigour in the bedchamber and bravely went to his death saying, “Trust in God, and not in the vanities of the world; for if I had so done I think I had been alive as ye be now.” ⁴

In fact, film and book revisit the Tudor gossip rife at the time that can be traced back to the enemies of the Boleyns, Cardinal Wolsey and Spanish Ambassador Chapuys in particular.

The real Anne once said she would have been happy to be the wife of Henry Percy rather than the wife of the king. Henry VIII – or Cardinal Wolsey – closed the door on that for her. I suspect Henry’s seduction probably planted in her the idea of power and what she could do with it. Anne Boleyn was dealt a particular hand and learnt to play with it.

In the press release for the B.B.C produced The Other Boleyn Girl, Gregory is quoted as saying that “the claim George slept with Anne is “speculative history.” It’s not a modern suggestion, but whether they did or not, none of us will ever know.” This same press release also states that “Gregory herself believes that it is unlikely Anne committed adultery with anybody.” ⁵

She justifies inferring a potentially guilty Anne in The Other Boleyn Girl because it is written through Mary Boleyn’s point of view, and through Mary’s suspicions. I do not believe Mary would have believed her sister guilty of committing or attempting incest with their brother, a belief supported by the actions of her royal niece, Elizabeth I.

It is well known Elizabeth Tudor remained mostly silent on the subject of Anne Boleyn. Some writers infer her silence as her way to distance herself from her mother, and that she believed the political spin put in place after Anne Boleyn’s death. Yet actions speak louder than words.

All through Elizabeth’s long reign, Anne’s gifted, intellectual daughter surrounded herself with her mother’s kin as part of her inner circle. Some of those closest to her were men and women who had also been close to her mother.

Then there was the discovery after her death. Elizabeth wore a ring containing her own portrait as an aged queen and that of a much younger woman – a portrait of her mother. To possess this portrait, Elizabeth must have held dear the memory of her mother, who physically disappeared from her life three months before her third birthday. It must have been her mother’s kin, including Mary’s children, Catherine and Henry, who told her the stories about her mother. I am certain none of them involved incest and adultery, attempted or otherwise.

Saying we tend to lose sight of “her absolute criminal nature,”⁶ Gregory also gives credence to Chapuys’ belief that Anne Boleyn was responsible for attempting to murder Cardinal Fisher. 7 Chapuys, one of the reporters of this period, is not an unbiased or reliable witness. His diplomatic news-sheets to Spain paint Anne as a woman with no redeeming features, reflecting his stance as a loyal friend and champion of Katherine of Aragon. Gregory, on the other hand, writes as a fiction writer who seems to believe her own fiction.

Professor Ives, the author of the much respected and lauded The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn, wrote this in reply when I asked him the question about Anne Boleyn’s so-called murderous attempt on Fisher’s life:

It is total moonshine to say, as Gregory does, that Anne had ‘an absolutely criminal nature.’ She was certainly determined but she was also intelligent and if she had set out to kill Fisher she would not have set out to kill the whole of his staff. I know of no historical evidence for relating Anne to the poisoning story. Robert Roose allegedly confessed that he put ‘a certain venom or poison’ in a pail of yeast used for making gruel. He believed it would cause sickness and according to imperial espionage he intended it as a joke.

Professor Ives also said, “Historical fiction seems to me to be escaping from the unwritten rules – that it should be faithful to the zeitgeist of the period and should not falsify. If you just want a costume drama, why not invent works like Lorna Doone?”⁷

Like us all, Anne Boleyn was not a perfect individual by any means, but she also deserved – and deserves – respect and admiration for many reasons. She was no witch, white or black. Protestant bishops held her in great esteem; the men dying with her were not her lovers, but men staying loyal to her even when it was obvious the tide had turned against her. Sir Thomas Wyatt, the elder – the man I endeavored to give voice in Dear Heart, How Like You This? – said in real life, “I could gladly yield to be tied forever with the knot of her love.” Anne was a woman who loved her daughter, a woman who called children the greatest consolation in the world.

Anne suffered enough during the nineteen days leading to her execution without fiction writers and movie directors further blackening her name. Only four months before her arrest she had lost her last hope of bearing the king a son. Arrested on trumped up charges, she was tried, convicted, and went to her death knowing five men had lost their lives because of her, and without having a hope of ever seeing her child again. Anne died not knowing the victory of her daughter’s life, but frightened for Elizabeth, who would be motherless and without her protection. Anne Boleyn faced the day of her execution with immense courage. Even her husband said she had a stout heart.

Historical fiction writers need to be very careful when writing about the once-living. They’re not fair game simply because they are dead. Our fiction gives weight to their lives and should avoid pandering to our image-conscious society. What do we learn if we do that?

True art imitates life; it illuminates life in all its beauty and ugliness; it helps us know and understand ourselves. If the art of literature panders to hedonism and sensationalism, this will happen less and less. By its shallow effort to depict a semblance of truth, the power of writing is diluted and risks the vacuum of nothingness. Historical fiction cannot afford to, in the words of A.S. Byatt, speaking of her concerns about Harry Potter, give credence to books “written for people whose imaginative lives are confined to TV cartoons, and the exaggerated (more exciting, not threatening) mirror-worlds of soaps, reality TV and celebrity gossip.”⁸

I believe those readers, especially, deserve better from us. They deserve the reading journey that will take them deep within their imagination and out the other side, without the counterfeit of pandering.

It is writers who maintain and reinforce the myths of Anne Boleyn as the home wrecker, whore, wicked step-mother, scheming bitch, and witch. These myths we shape also partially reflect ourselves, what we want to see, what we want to believe. Good novels are those that seek to understand the cause and effect of myths, the writer peeling off the onionskin of imposed meaning until arriving closer to the inner heart of truth. By digging deep we arrive at the substance of true narrative – the true reason for story, the true reason we tell stories. To help us become whole.

To me, a good book is like the wardrobe in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. By opening the door, I open the possibility to adventure, discovery, and personal growth. Aslan roared to the children in The Last Battle, “Further up and further in.” As they did, their world opened to new dimensions and new beauties beyond their imaginings. Reading gives us the first keys to those deeper wells within us; diving into those wells takes us even “further in” to understanding ourselves and the world in which we live.

When we write, we dive in even deeper to bring back the pearls, the nourishment that makes us all the richer and more human. Good historical fiction does this for us. With our times becoming increasingly dark, it is now more important than ever for writers to bear the light and mirror the truth.

Notes

1. Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, Little Snow-White. [Accessed online at www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm053.html]

2. George Santanya, The Life of Reason (vol. 1), 1905.

3. Carolyn Heibrun, Writing a Woman’s Life (Ballantine, 1998), 37.

4. Joanna Denny, Anne Boleyn (Portrait, 2004).

5. The Other Boleyn Girl [From BBC Two, The Other Boleyn Girl. Accessed online at http://www.bbc.co.uk/pressoffice/pressreleases/stories/2003/02_february/13/two_drama_otherboleyn.pdf]

6. Author interview with Philippa Gregory. [Accessed online at www.harpercollins.au/author/authorExtra.aspx?authorID=50000293&displayType=interview]

7. Maria Dowling, Fisher of Men, A Life of John Fisher, 1469-1535 (Macmillan Press 1999), page 142.

8. I wish to express my sincere thanks to Professor Eric Ives for his generosity in answering my questions. Professor Ives’ The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn is the best biography of Anne Boleyn now in print.

8. A. S. Byatt, “Harry Potter and the Childish Adult,” New York Times (July 7, 2003). [Accessed online at query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9A02E4D8113AF934A35754C0A9659C8B63]

Wendy J. Dunn is an Australian writer and teacher obsessed with Tudor History. Thanks to her research on Katherine of Aragon, the subject of her new, yet to be published novel, she now has a new passion: medieval Castile. The author of the award-winning novel Dear Heart, How Like You This?, Wendy is currently working on several Tudor projects while studying for her Masters in Creative Writing.

Originally it was implied that the sitter was Mary Tudor but of course this presents some problems because in 1535 Mary was not yet returned to favour and so would such a portrait have been commissioned? The other obvious issue is that in 1535 Mary is assumed to have been 19 years of age and this sitter to me looks much younger.

So we are left with the question, if not Mary then who? Perhaps current investigations will confirm the identify of the sitter.

Regardless of who this person is, it once again fills me with hope that one day we will either uncover a ‘new’ portrait or identify the sitter of a known portrait as being one of the Boleyns! Imagine finally seeing what George Boleyn looked like or setting your eyes upon a full length portrait of Anne Boleyn. Well, until then I can keep hoping…

To read the full post please visit Mary Tudor Renaissance Queen.

Anne Boleyn and Thomas Wyatt were witnesses to these gruesome acts from the window of their prison cells within the Tower. It seems likely that Wyatt watched from his prison in the Bell Tower as described in a poem he wrote later that year:

“The Bell Tower showed me such a sight

That in my head sticks day and night;

There did I learn out of a grate…”

Anne Boleyn may have been looking from another room in the Bell Tower or possibly from a room in the Byward Tower. But what is certain is that watching her beloved brother being butchered must have been a torture- especially when he was almost certainly innocent of the crimes for which he was condemned.  The injustice and futility of these murders must have made it all the more tormenting to witness.

It was reported that all five men died in a dignified manner and observed scaffold etiquette by confessing their faults and confirming the justness of their punishments in their farewell speeches. What they did not allude to though were the specific crimes that brought them to this terrible fate.

The highest ranking, being George Boleyn, faced the axe first but only after he had delivered a very long speech, of which several versions survive. Norris, Weston, Brereton and Smeaton soon followed him.

It is difficult to imagine what these men must have been thinking and feeling whilst awaiting their brutal deaths. One can be sure that they would have been overcome by mounting fear as the axe claimed more victims and the scaffold became littered with mutilated corpses. To make matters all the more terrifying, the axe was never a kind bringer of death. It was observed that George Boleyn had endured three strokes of the axe to completely sever his head from his body.

Smeaton was the last to die. The sight that lay before him must have been horrendous. The block floating in a sea of red surrounded by bloodied bodies and butchered heads. Yet still he managed to find the courage to utter a few words and then lay his head on the block.

There their mutilated corpses remained until Tower officials stripped them of their clothes and piled them onto a cart that would transport them to their final resting places; the Chapel Royal of St. Peter Ad Vincula for Lord Rochford and the adjacent churchyard for Norris, Weston, Brereton and Smeaton.

I sincerely hope that these men are now resting in peace a long way away from their brutal Earthly departure.

Source: Weir, Alison. The Lady in the Tower- The fall of Anne Boleyn, 2009.

The warder also revealed that white lillies arrive for the anniversary of Jane Grey’s execution each year.

This fills me with hope that perhaps a relative of Anne’s might have, in their care,  portraits of the Boleyns or some of their belongings- a portrait of George Boleyn perhaps… One can only hope!

Yoeman Warders

The painting is a full length portrait of a lady in black wearing no jewellery. When first exhibited in 1956 it was claimed to be Mary I but in a later exhibition it was downgraded to just A Lady in Black.

A 16th century curator from the National Portrait Gallery claims that the portrait cannot be of Mary Tudor as the facial features are dissimilar to other authentic portraits. However, other scholars think that it must be Mary Tudor as it is too grand a portrait to be of anyone but royalty.

To read this very interesting article and see the portrait for yourself visit Times Online.

This article gives me hope that one day we might uncover another portrait of Anne Boleyn or a first portrait of her brother, George Boleyn.

NG