Like Mary Boleyn, Margaret Douglas was a medieval woman adjacent to power so the first hand accounts of her life are somewhat sketchy. She was the daughter of Henry VIII's sister Margaret Tudor and the mother-in-law of Mary, Queen of Scots (who was also Margaret Tudor's granddaughter, by Margaret Tudor's first marriage). She spent most of her young years as a political pawn (as most princesses of the era did), married into Scottish nobility, and maneuvered to put her immature and pleasure-seeking son on the Scottish throne. There aren't a lot of 'big events' in Margaret Douglas's life, but Weir's biography of her (like that of Mary Boleyn) outlines the machinations of the Tudor court.
Showing posts with label Tudor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tudor. Show all posts
Sunday, December 10, 2023
Thursday, October 12, 2023
Katherine Parr: The Sixth Wife
Anne of Cleaves probably had the best life of Henry VII's wives, but Katherine Parr probably had, on the whole, the best marriage (Catherine of Aragon's was good...until it wasn't). In Katherine Parr: The Sixth Wife, Alison Weir brings her Six Wives series of novels to a satisfying close.
Katherine was a highly educated woman and Weir depicted her as someone who found comfortable and joy in learning. She also portrays her as a loving and resilient person, whose close friendships an family relations (with her siblings Anne and William and her cousin Magdalen) carry her through her father's early death, three widowhoods, and political intrigue. Katherine's first marriage is to the son of a violent and controlling man, but she does develop some affection for her incompatible husband and mourns his death. Her second marriage, to Lord Lattimer, brings her two stepchildren aunt he realization that she's stronger willed and savvier than her husband.
She also discovers her Protestant leanings. Henry's break with Rome wasn't, in his mind, a rejection of Catholicism and he disliked and distrusted Protestants as much as those who "clung" to Rome. Heretics were executed publicly, so Katherine took risks when she stepped away from Catholicism.
As she approached her 30s, she had other matters to deal with. Her husband, whom she loved, was dying of tuberculosis and she was simultaneously being pursued by Thomas Seymour, brother of the late Jane, and by Henry VIII. She loved Tom, but her family (like most attuned to political issues) convinced her to marry Henry. By this point, he wAs morbidly obese and had a leg wound that stank and could not heal so marriage to him would have been unpleasant, even if he weren't so mercurial. Their years together, at least as portrayed here, were affectionate. Both were bright and well read and enjoyed intellectual debates. Katherine was also a good stepmother to his son and daughters, with the hope of becoming regent when Henry died.
When Henry moves to another castle for Christmas, 1546, Katherine does not know she will never see him again. Or that the courtiers, particularly Thomas Seymour, have control of a weary, dying Henry. She doesn't even learn of her husband's death until the public does, 3 days after its January 28th occurrence. She fights briefly for control but gives in to the inevitable. Reading this in 2023, I can't help but see echos of the rumors that a frail Elizabeth II was controlled by courtiers who'd taken sides in the family business conflicts.
Widowed for the third time, Katherine retreats from court only to have Tom Seymour renew his pursuit of her. She tries to resist but her earlier passion and the possibility of having a child lead to a secret marriage. Their household includes his ward, Lady Jane Grey, an intellectual but proto-puritain Protestant girl who finds wearing colors sinful and is being groomed to be Edward VII's eventual wife. It also includes teenage Elizabeth and her lady and waiting Kat Ashley. It's Mrs. Ashley who tells Katherine of Tom's early morning visits toElizabeth's chamber and the inappropriate behavior. Tom is clearly molesting his stepdaughter whom he initially wanted to marry, but while uneasy, Katherine doesn't see how serious the situation is. She's preoccupied with intrigue between the Seymours and eventually with a long-wanted pregnancy. Tom continues to flirt with and molest Elizabeth, eventually cutting a dress off her in Katherine's presence. Katherine sends Elizabeth away for her own good and is still unsure how to deal with Tom when she dies from childbirth complications, a few days after delivering a healthy daughter named Mary.
Historical fiction isn't fact, even when written by a historian. That being said, I enjoyed how Weir brought the six wives to life. As she's shown in some of her recent work, we don't have a lot of information on even famous or well connected women of the past. They're cyphers and novels bring them to life.
Sunday, April 16, 2023
Katherine Howard - The Scandalous Queen
Catherine Howard followed her cousin Anne Boelyn in two ways, as wife to the mercurial and cruel Henry VIII and to the executioner's block for adultery. Unlike Anne, there may be some truth to the charges against the younger and less educated Catherine. Katherine Howard - The Scandalous Queen is the fifth book in Alison Weir's Six Wives series and as with her other novels (and occasionally non-fiction books) about Tudor women, she has to fill in some gaps.
We first see Kathryn at her mother's deathbed. Her father, a disreputable member of a good family, has no way to support his children from two marriages while looking for an heiress to marry so the children are sent out to various relatives. After her protective and much older half-sister Isabel marries, Kathryn ends up in the household of the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk where late night parties teach her about sex and sexual politics at a young age. As a flirtatious young woman, she takes part in these games and becomes involved with two very different young men. This comes back to haunt her as Queen to a besotted but jealous Henry VIII when she carries on an affair with one while being threatened with blackmail by the other. Young, shallow, and uneducated it's no surprise she found better company with a dashing courtier than with her much older, physically failing but intellectually-minded husband, but when that husband is Henry VIII, doing so meant death.
Thursday, June 13, 2019
Anne Boleyn: A King's Obsession
Alison Weir's second installment in her Six English Queens series presents at technical problem. How can you write a compelling and original novel about whom there's very little reliable documentary evidence but scores of previous fictional portrayals? Weir draws on her previous biographies of Anne and her sister Mary, and fills in the rest with reasonable speculation.
What we do know about Anne is that she was an intelligent woman with ambitious parents. That led to her positions in European courts where she acquired polish, and learned about both courtly love and the new learning from her first mistress, Regent Margaret. her frivolous sister Mary, who joined her when Anne moved to the French court of Henry VIII's sister Mary, did not learn these lessons but still did not deserve to be raped by one king and to become the unwilling mistress of another. Using, in part, her sister's fate, Anne focused on fending off Henry's advances when she came to court as one of Catherine's Maids of Honor
Here Weir departs from the popular, romantic view of Anne's relationship with Henry. As the title says, Henry was obsessed with Anne, and she didn't love him. She held off his advances until, in a particularly manipulative move, Henry explains his theological qualms about his marriage to Catherine and convinces Anne to accept his proposal
As she waits for Henry's annulment, we see Anne change from the well liked lady she'd been to the suspicious, imperious woman who had little support available when she needed it. Elizabeth's birth and a stillborn son leave Henry without the male heir he wants and needs, so he begins to doubt the validity of this marriage as well. Anne becomes desperate, but her vindictive treatment of Catherine and Mary, along with her increasingly imperious behavior, leave her with little support. After two miscarriages, both of male fetuses, Anne finds herself accused of adultery with several men, including her brother George. As Weir outlined in The Lady in the Tower, most of these charges were impossible because Anne and the men in question weren't in the same place at the time of the alleged encounters and because Anne was pregnant or recovering from giving birth during at least half of them. The executioner had already been sent for, though, and it would be a waste not to convict. Weir ends her novel with a few seconds of Anne's final thoughts, where she rightly takes credit for some of Henry's religious reforms. Anne Boleyn proves herself no less compelling than Catherine of Aragon.
What we do know about Anne is that she was an intelligent woman with ambitious parents. That led to her positions in European courts where she acquired polish, and learned about both courtly love and the new learning from her first mistress, Regent Margaret. her frivolous sister Mary, who joined her when Anne moved to the French court of Henry VIII's sister Mary, did not learn these lessons but still did not deserve to be raped by one king and to become the unwilling mistress of another. Using, in part, her sister's fate, Anne focused on fending off Henry's advances when she came to court as one of Catherine's Maids of Honor
Here Weir departs from the popular, romantic view of Anne's relationship with Henry. As the title says, Henry was obsessed with Anne, and she didn't love him. She held off his advances until, in a particularly manipulative move, Henry explains his theological qualms about his marriage to Catherine and convinces Anne to accept his proposal
As she waits for Henry's annulment, we see Anne change from the well liked lady she'd been to the suspicious, imperious woman who had little support available when she needed it. Elizabeth's birth and a stillborn son leave Henry without the male heir he wants and needs, so he begins to doubt the validity of this marriage as well. Anne becomes desperate, but her vindictive treatment of Catherine and Mary, along with her increasingly imperious behavior, leave her with little support. After two miscarriages, both of male fetuses, Anne finds herself accused of adultery with several men, including her brother George. As Weir outlined in The Lady in the Tower, most of these charges were impossible because Anne and the men in question weren't in the same place at the time of the alleged encounters and because Anne was pregnant or recovering from giving birth during at least half of them. The executioner had already been sent for, though, and it would be a waste not to convict. Weir ends her novel with a few seconds of Anne's final thoughts, where she rightly takes credit for some of Henry's religious reforms. Anne Boleyn proves herself no less compelling than Catherine of Aragon.
Sunday, May 19, 2019
Mary Tudor: England's First Queen
England's first Queen is in some ways England's forgotten Queen. It's easy to find biographies of Elizabeth I and Henry VIII, but even Alison Weir hasn't paid much attention to Mary Tudor. I can understand why, because she's more of a reactive character and a pawn than her imperious father and politically astute half-sister. Intelligent but shunted aside for much of her life and used as a weapon against her mother, she made religious orthodoxy and the unsuccessful attempt to bear and heir the focus of her reign. Whitelock brings this overlooked woman to life, though, making her more compelling than one would expect of someone so thwarted by history.
Friday, September 21, 2018
Katherine of Aragon: The True Queen
Reading Prairie Fires, I realized that historical fiction was my first genre. Laura Ingalls Wilder's books were the first I remember re-reading multiple times, and like many little girls in the 70s, I played "pioneer" (rather surprising for a fastidious, super-indoorsey city girl). The Witch of Blackbird Pond and Johnny Tremaine also fell apart due to multiple re-readings, but as an adult, I stayed away from the genre until I was re-introduced through the hybrid sub genre of historical mysteries.
It helps that Alison, Weir, one of my favorite biographers, decided to start writing novels. Katherine of Aragon: The True Queen, her 6th novel, starts series animating the six disparate women who married Henry VIII.
Weir begins Katherine's story when she's Catalina, Infanta of Spain, betrothed to Arthur, Prince of Wales, and about to land at Plymouth. There she will become Kathrine, and eventually Queen. Her Prince, however will never be King, and Katherine's first meeting with Arthur disappoints her. Not only is he rather shy, but he's clearly ill, pale and weak and frequently coughing from a "lingering rheum." He's too weak to consummate their marriage (although like a teenager, even one whose kingdom doesn't depend on it, he brags of his conquest). The young newlyweds are affectionate, though, and Katherine mourns not just her lost position but her husband when he dies from tuberculosis a few months later.
Arthur's death plunges Katherine into several years of uncertainty as a political pawn. After some talk of marrying her to the new heir, 11-year-old Henry, Duke of York, she falls into limbo. After Queen Elizabeth dies in childbirth, Henry VII considers marrying her, then abandons that in favor of this alliance or that, always looking for the most lucrative option - and not supporting the Dowager Princess and contractually required. Parsimonious Henry Tudor didn't just want the best alliance; he wanted the best dowry. Katherine spent her widowhood acting as a go-between for her father and father-in-law, trying to enforce he contract which held back her plate and jewels.
It's during this period that the always devout Princess met her new confessor, Frey Diego. A magnetic personality and hard line moralist (at least in appearance), he encourages her to confess deep sins and mortify her flesh (Weir hints at the possibility that Katherine's devout fasting was a form of anorexia nervosa, as theorized by Giles Trement). Diego, who comes across ad manipulative but without a known agenda, enters her household after the Spanish Ambassador, Dr. de Peubla, forces out Katherine's protective but cunning duenna, Dona Elvira in yet another battle over the dowry.
Katherine's uncertain youth ends with Henry VII's death (also from tuberculosis) in 1509. Already 24, she finds a love match in the 18-year-old Henry VIII who ends their betrothal with a quick wedding so that they may be crowned together. Weir shows us the young, passionate, athletic king; one whom we can find attractive and yet, in his mercurial moods and extravagance, we can also see hints of the despot to come. At first, though, he's a loving and doting husband, more suited to be a courtier than King. He celebrates Katherine's pregnancies as a father as well as a King, and mourns with her when the first two end with a stillbirth and a young Prince who only lives a few weeks. Five more pregnancies over the next decade leave only Mary living, and although Henry is discreet, Katherine hears rumor of Bessie Blount and wonders why her still youthful husband flies a chivalrous banner at certain tournaments. Eventually, Katherine learns that Henry feels their marriage is cursed because (even though their marriage was never consummated), she is Arthur's widow
Weir wisely keeps the political and theological arguments as the background of the third section of Katherine of Aragon. Instead, she shows a stubborn but righteous woman who still loves her husband (who may still love her). As Katherine's status and household shrink, we see the personal toll it takes, tearing her from the devoted friends who have made up her inner circle and planting the seeds of dogmatic intolerance in Princess Mary. Weir also subtly hints at how closely intertwined five of Henry's six wives, were, with a cameo by Jane Seymour and references to Maud Parr's daughter Kate. Although of lasting political import, Henry's break with Rome and marriage to Anne Boleyn was a personal tragedy to Katherine and her ladies. Weir really brings that across, and even gains bit of sympathy for Henry who, at least when he begins his quest for an annulment,s seems driven in part by grief. He's wrong, of course, but it's this sort of nuance that makes me look forward to Anne Boleyn: A King's Obsession. I'm sure many characters will reappear there, but in a different light.
It helps that Alison, Weir, one of my favorite biographers, decided to start writing novels. Katherine of Aragon: The True Queen, her 6th novel, starts series animating the six disparate women who married Henry VIII.
Weir begins Katherine's story when she's Catalina, Infanta of Spain, betrothed to Arthur, Prince of Wales, and about to land at Plymouth. There she will become Kathrine, and eventually Queen. Her Prince, however will never be King, and Katherine's first meeting with Arthur disappoints her. Not only is he rather shy, but he's clearly ill, pale and weak and frequently coughing from a "lingering rheum." He's too weak to consummate their marriage (although like a teenager, even one whose kingdom doesn't depend on it, he brags of his conquest). The young newlyweds are affectionate, though, and Katherine mourns not just her lost position but her husband when he dies from tuberculosis a few months later.
Arthur's death plunges Katherine into several years of uncertainty as a political pawn. After some talk of marrying her to the new heir, 11-year-old Henry, Duke of York, she falls into limbo. After Queen Elizabeth dies in childbirth, Henry VII considers marrying her, then abandons that in favor of this alliance or that, always looking for the most lucrative option - and not supporting the Dowager Princess and contractually required. Parsimonious Henry Tudor didn't just want the best alliance; he wanted the best dowry. Katherine spent her widowhood acting as a go-between for her father and father-in-law, trying to enforce he contract which held back her plate and jewels.
It's during this period that the always devout Princess met her new confessor, Frey Diego. A magnetic personality and hard line moralist (at least in appearance), he encourages her to confess deep sins and mortify her flesh (Weir hints at the possibility that Katherine's devout fasting was a form of anorexia nervosa, as theorized by Giles Trement). Diego, who comes across ad manipulative but without a known agenda, enters her household after the Spanish Ambassador, Dr. de Peubla, forces out Katherine's protective but cunning duenna, Dona Elvira in yet another battle over the dowry.
Katherine's uncertain youth ends with Henry VII's death (also from tuberculosis) in 1509. Already 24, she finds a love match in the 18-year-old Henry VIII who ends their betrothal with a quick wedding so that they may be crowned together. Weir shows us the young, passionate, athletic king; one whom we can find attractive and yet, in his mercurial moods and extravagance, we can also see hints of the despot to come. At first, though, he's a loving and doting husband, more suited to be a courtier than King. He celebrates Katherine's pregnancies as a father as well as a King, and mourns with her when the first two end with a stillbirth and a young Prince who only lives a few weeks. Five more pregnancies over the next decade leave only Mary living, and although Henry is discreet, Katherine hears rumor of Bessie Blount and wonders why her still youthful husband flies a chivalrous banner at certain tournaments. Eventually, Katherine learns that Henry feels their marriage is cursed because (even though their marriage was never consummated), she is Arthur's widow
Weir wisely keeps the political and theological arguments as the background of the third section of Katherine of Aragon. Instead, she shows a stubborn but righteous woman who still loves her husband (who may still love her). As Katherine's status and household shrink, we see the personal toll it takes, tearing her from the devoted friends who have made up her inner circle and planting the seeds of dogmatic intolerance in Princess Mary. Weir also subtly hints at how closely intertwined five of Henry's six wives, were, with a cameo by Jane Seymour and references to Maud Parr's daughter Kate. Although of lasting political import, Henry's break with Rome and marriage to Anne Boleyn was a personal tragedy to Katherine and her ladies. Weir really brings that across, and even gains bit of sympathy for Henry who, at least when he begins his quest for an annulment,s seems driven in part by grief. He's wrong, of course, but it's this sort of nuance that makes me look forward to Anne Boleyn: A King's Obsession. I'm sure many characters will reappear there, but in a different light.
Monday, June 11, 2018
Mary Boleyn: the Mistress of Kings
I suspect that no one would have cared about Mary Boleyn if she weren't The Other Boleyn Girl. Alison Weir's biography shows that Mary was clearly the "other" sister - less intelligent, less ambitious, less interesting. That doesn't make Weir's book any less interesting, though. She uses this biography of a somewhat-famous-by-reflection as a way to explore lower profile aspects of court life and to show the mechanics of her job.
Mary's life was marginally recorded at best. Weir spends much of the early chapters reconstructing Mary's life, proving that she was indeed the older sister, and outlining the life of an inconsequential member of a prominent family. Mary spent time at the French court as one of Queen Mary's attendants and was briefly the mistress of Francois I. Today, we wonder how consensual the affair between a king regnant and the lady in waiting to the queen emerita could be. In the 16th Century, it damaged Mary's reputation and could have had repercussions for the entire Boleyn family, which was already considered a bit dodgy. She spent several years in obscurity before marrying her cousin Henry Carey, a courtier, and joining him at Henry VIII's court. There, she again became the mistress to a king, securing her place if not in history, in historical fiction.
I know this sounds very dry and dull, but I found it fascinating. I also saw sections of Weir's book as a rebuttal to Derek Wilson's biography of Henry VIII. Wilson's theory is that Henry VIII was a bad king because he was a lousy lover, and he was a lousy lover because he only had one acknowledged illegitimate child. Weir argues that Henry was discreet, rather than sexually inept. She also argues that he did have two illegitimate daughters, and that he didn't claim them for logical reasons. Acknowledging the first, by the daughter of the court goldsmith, would bring him no political advantage, and the second, by Mary Boleyn Carey, make his marriage to Anne Boleyn illegal on the same grounds he was using to annul his marriage to Katherine of Aragon. Leaving aside how male and female researchers may have different views on the connection between a king's sexual aggression and his competence, Weir's argument makes sense.
Mary's life was marginally recorded at best. Weir spends much of the early chapters reconstructing Mary's life, proving that she was indeed the older sister, and outlining the life of an inconsequential member of a prominent family. Mary spent time at the French court as one of Queen Mary's attendants and was briefly the mistress of Francois I. Today, we wonder how consensual the affair between a king regnant and the lady in waiting to the queen emerita could be. In the 16th Century, it damaged Mary's reputation and could have had repercussions for the entire Boleyn family, which was already considered a bit dodgy. She spent several years in obscurity before marrying her cousin Henry Carey, a courtier, and joining him at Henry VIII's court. There, she again became the mistress to a king, securing her place if not in history, in historical fiction.
I know this sounds very dry and dull, but I found it fascinating. I also saw sections of Weir's book as a rebuttal to Derek Wilson's biography of Henry VIII. Wilson's theory is that Henry VIII was a bad king because he was a lousy lover, and he was a lousy lover because he only had one acknowledged illegitimate child. Weir argues that Henry was discreet, rather than sexually inept. She also argues that he did have two illegitimate daughters, and that he didn't claim them for logical reasons. Acknowledging the first, by the daughter of the court goldsmith, would bring him no political advantage, and the second, by Mary Boleyn Carey, make his marriage to Anne Boleyn illegal on the same grounds he was using to annul his marriage to Katherine of Aragon. Leaving aside how male and female researchers may have different views on the connection between a king's sexual aggression and his competence, Weir's argument makes sense.
Sunday, August 6, 2017
The Marriage Game
Elizabeth I started a small, bankrupt kingdom on the way to global empire, but that accomplishment is secondary to The Marriage Game. She was the greatest marital prize of the mid-16th Century and played suitors off each other until she had aged out of the Game. Alison Weir's novel looks mainly at the personal side of Elizabeth's political maneuvering and on the Queen's personal reasons for not marrying.
I've never believed the theory that the Virgin Queen wasn't. By the time she was 16, Elizabeth had seen her mother executed and two stepmothers die in childbirth. She'd also been subject to rumors and scandal regarding her relationship with Thomas Seymour, Katherine Parr's husband. Today, we'd see their relationship as molestation but 470 years ago, it was attempted treason for him, near-ruin for her. With childbirth such a risky undertaking and a family history linking sex and scandal, I doubt the calculating Queen would be willing to risk death to consummate a relationship.
Marriage would also deprive Elizabeth of her power. Her sister Mary had been England's firsts undisputed Queen Regnant and her unsuccessful reign had not been helped by her marriage to Phillip of Spain. As ruler of the country but a subject of her husband, a Queen married to a foreign prince had divided loyalties. A Queen who married one of her subjects would exacerbate factions within the court.
The Marriage Game adds another complication. Elizabeth was in love with Robert Dudley. Both safe (because he was then married to Amy Rosbart) and dangerous (as the brother and son of traitors), she'd known him from their childhood in the Tower of London. Weir uses their flirtatious, physical relationship as the background to the perpetual negotiations. Shifting perspective between Elizabeth and Dudley, she portrays a complex relationship hindered by Elizabeth's vanity and position, and later by complacency and Dudley's desire for an heir of his own. A partially requited love story with political undercurrents, The Marriage Game provides a view of Elizabeth as a person more than as a monarch.
I've never believed the theory that the Virgin Queen wasn't. By the time she was 16, Elizabeth had seen her mother executed and two stepmothers die in childbirth. She'd also been subject to rumors and scandal regarding her relationship with Thomas Seymour, Katherine Parr's husband. Today, we'd see their relationship as molestation but 470 years ago, it was attempted treason for him, near-ruin for her. With childbirth such a risky undertaking and a family history linking sex and scandal, I doubt the calculating Queen would be willing to risk death to consummate a relationship.
Marriage would also deprive Elizabeth of her power. Her sister Mary had been England's firsts undisputed Queen Regnant and her unsuccessful reign had not been helped by her marriage to Phillip of Spain. As ruler of the country but a subject of her husband, a Queen married to a foreign prince had divided loyalties. A Queen who married one of her subjects would exacerbate factions within the court.
The Marriage Game adds another complication. Elizabeth was in love with Robert Dudley. Both safe (because he was then married to Amy Rosbart) and dangerous (as the brother and son of traitors), she'd known him from their childhood in the Tower of London. Weir uses their flirtatious, physical relationship as the background to the perpetual negotiations. Shifting perspective between Elizabeth and Dudley, she portrays a complex relationship hindered by Elizabeth's vanity and position, and later by complacency and Dudley's desire for an heir of his own. A partially requited love story with political undercurrents, The Marriage Game provides a view of Elizabeth as a person more than as a monarch.
Tuesday, March 14, 2017
The Lady in the Tower: The Fall of Anne Boleyn
Alison Weir takes an unromantic look at Anne Boleyn's last days in The Lady in the Tower. Starting with Anne's final miscarriage (she had three miscarriages or stillbirths after giving birth to Elizabeth, and Weir mentions the possibility that those losses were caused by Rh incompatibility), Weir traces the political machinations that led to Anne's death. By 1536, Henry, always mercurial, was becoming desperate for a male heir, and his courtiers knew it. Seeing that he was tiring of Anne's strong personality (which had originally attracted him), the Catholic factions put forward her opposite - sweet, compliant Jane Seymour.
But how to get rid of Anne? Divorcing Catherine of Aragon (now recently deceased) had cost Henry politically, so that wasn't a viable option. Fortunately for Henry (and for the Catholic faction at court), Anne had not endeared herself to the people or to the court. The same strong personality that first attracted Henry left her with no political capital to spend when his desire for an heir surpassed his desire for her. Her enemies convinced Henry she was a danger, put her in the Tower guarded by women (including her sister-in-law) who already disliked her. From there, it was only a few quick rumors to charges of adultery (highly unlikely since she was pregnant or recovering from a birth, stillbirth, or miscarriage for most of her time as Queen) and death by an executioner summoned before her trial began.
But how to get rid of Anne? Divorcing Catherine of Aragon (now recently deceased) had cost Henry politically, so that wasn't a viable option. Fortunately for Henry (and for the Catholic faction at court), Anne had not endeared herself to the people or to the court. The same strong personality that first attracted Henry left her with no political capital to spend when his desire for an heir surpassed his desire for her. Her enemies convinced Henry she was a danger, put her in the Tower guarded by women (including her sister-in-law) who already disliked her. From there, it was only a few quick rumors to charges of adultery (highly unlikely since she was pregnant or recovering from a birth, stillbirth, or miscarriage for most of her time as Queen) and death by an executioner summoned before her trial began.
Sunday, November 13, 2016
A Dangerous Inheritance
Sr. Maureen Christi had the unenviable task of facing me and about 20 other teenagers at 8 am every day 30-plus years ago. It's not that I wasn't receptive to Poe (her favorite) and Shakespeare at 14; it's that this particular night owl wasn't receptive to much before 10 am. I must have paid attention, though, because what she taught me then (and three years later at a more reasonable 1 pm) regularly pop into my mind.
One thing she told us was that Shakespeare was a political creature and a man who knew who - Elizabeth I - paid his bills. Without getting into the details of Richard III (although I might have preferred that to Romeo and Juliet), she let us know that the victorious Henry VII's granddaughter wasn't going to stand for a pleasant portrayal of the vanquished king. Art influences us, probably more than unvarnished reality, and Richard III became deformed and irreparably evil in our consciousness. Fiction (and the recent discovery of Richard's body under a car park) adds some much-needed nuance to that view.
Alison Weir adds her voice to the novelists rehabilitating (somewhat) Richard III. He's a supporting character in A Dangerous Inheritance, the father of one of the protagonists. Kate Plantagenet is his illegitimate but recognized daughter, and through her eyes, we see a loving father and husband and concerned knight displeased with the state of his country. Kate's faith in him is sweet, and because she only sees glimpses of his slide into despotism, supported by her reality. His death throws her, now married to the Earl of Pembroke, into the political sphere. Pembroke "switched sides" late in the war (possibly after he knew the outcome), and Henry VII needs to know whether Richard murdered his nephews.
Seventy years later, Katherine Grey marries one of Pembroke's descendants in a double wedding, alongside her sister Jane and Guilford Dudley. Unlike Jane, Katherine is eager to marry - she loves pretty dresses and quickly comes to love her husband although they're forbidden to consummate their marriage. The night Mary retakes her throne from Jane, Pembroke separates the lovers and deposits Katherine, with no guard and no warning, on her parents' doorstep. Political maneuvering (and close blood ties to the throne) bring her to court as one of Mary's attendants. Here, she meets proud, savvy, brilliant Elizabeth who's much better at the political game. Katherine wants to be queen, and changes alliances and religions more than once in the hope that it will happen, but she wants the pageantry rather than the power. She likes pretty dresses and being in love and making her husband king.
It was love rather than political machinations that led her to marry Edward Seymour, son of Edward VI's Lord Protector. That marriage (or, rather, the children it produced) led to Katherine's downfall. Elizabeth knew that her people would rather have a man on the throne than a brilliant but prickly (and justifiably paranoid at times) woman. A cousin of royal blood, married and with a son was a threat, one which had to be sequestered in the Tower of London with cast-off, mostly broken furniture. In exile, Katherine connects the pendant she found in her first husband's house, one which Kate Plantagenet owned, to the voices she thinks she hears late at night, and sets off to discover the fate of Edward V and the Duke of York.
One thing she told us was that Shakespeare was a political creature and a man who knew who - Elizabeth I - paid his bills. Without getting into the details of Richard III (although I might have preferred that to Romeo and Juliet), she let us know that the victorious Henry VII's granddaughter wasn't going to stand for a pleasant portrayal of the vanquished king. Art influences us, probably more than unvarnished reality, and Richard III became deformed and irreparably evil in our consciousness. Fiction (and the recent discovery of Richard's body under a car park) adds some much-needed nuance to that view.
Alison Weir adds her voice to the novelists rehabilitating (somewhat) Richard III. He's a supporting character in A Dangerous Inheritance, the father of one of the protagonists. Kate Plantagenet is his illegitimate but recognized daughter, and through her eyes, we see a loving father and husband and concerned knight displeased with the state of his country. Kate's faith in him is sweet, and because she only sees glimpses of his slide into despotism, supported by her reality. His death throws her, now married to the Earl of Pembroke, into the political sphere. Pembroke "switched sides" late in the war (possibly after he knew the outcome), and Henry VII needs to know whether Richard murdered his nephews.
Seventy years later, Katherine Grey marries one of Pembroke's descendants in a double wedding, alongside her sister Jane and Guilford Dudley. Unlike Jane, Katherine is eager to marry - she loves pretty dresses and quickly comes to love her husband although they're forbidden to consummate their marriage. The night Mary retakes her throne from Jane, Pembroke separates the lovers and deposits Katherine, with no guard and no warning, on her parents' doorstep. Political maneuvering (and close blood ties to the throne) bring her to court as one of Mary's attendants. Here, she meets proud, savvy, brilliant Elizabeth who's much better at the political game. Katherine wants to be queen, and changes alliances and religions more than once in the hope that it will happen, but she wants the pageantry rather than the power. She likes pretty dresses and being in love and making her husband king.
It was love rather than political machinations that led her to marry Edward Seymour, son of Edward VI's Lord Protector. That marriage (or, rather, the children it produced) led to Katherine's downfall. Elizabeth knew that her people would rather have a man on the throne than a brilliant but prickly (and justifiably paranoid at times) woman. A cousin of royal blood, married and with a son was a threat, one which had to be sequestered in the Tower of London with cast-off, mostly broken furniture. In exile, Katherine connects the pendant she found in her first husband's house, one which Kate Plantagenet owned, to the voices she thinks she hears late at night, and sets off to discover the fate of Edward V and the Duke of York.
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Henry VIII: Reformer and Tyrant
Derek Wilson holds Henry VIII in contempt. I've read biographies where the author doesn't seem to like the subject, but I'd never before read one where the disdain drips off the page. Maybe Wilson felt he needed to be so obvious in his dislike because Henry is so popular, but I found his jaded view a bit distasteful.
Henry's reputation does exceed his accomplishments. Giles Tremlett makes the convincing argument that Catherine of Aragon was a more competent diplomat and leader, and Henry left the country in debt. Wilson argues, though, that even Henry's reputation as a musician and thinker (he was, after all, originally the "spare" raised to be a courtier and high-ranking clergyman) is the result of sycophantic PR and that he was an unpredictable tyrant from his youth instead of becoming a despot through ill health (and possibly a brain injury). Is Wilson right? It's possible, but I'm not sure I agree with his reasoning. Wilson seems to believe that Henry was a terrible leader (and musician, and thinker) for one reason. Even when he was young and sexy, he wasn't particularly good in bed. Wilson uses his wives low fertility and the presence of a single acknowledged illegitimate child as evidence, along with Henry's habit of falling in love with his mistresses instead of just sleeping with several women at court. While Henry's last two wives did not conceive while married to him, he was by that point morbidly obese and most likely suffering form heart disease and diabetes. It's possible he was unable to even consummate those marriages. Catherine of Aragon, however, conceived several times, and Anne Boleyn conceived at least twice in three years. As for his habit of falling in love rather than rutting like an animal, I don't think that's a sign of weakness. IF true, it makes Henry more enlightened than most of his contemporaries. Henry VIII: Reformer and Tyrant is an interesting take on a fascinating character, but a bit too Freudian for my taste.
Henry's reputation does exceed his accomplishments. Giles Tremlett makes the convincing argument that Catherine of Aragon was a more competent diplomat and leader, and Henry left the country in debt. Wilson argues, though, that even Henry's reputation as a musician and thinker (he was, after all, originally the "spare" raised to be a courtier and high-ranking clergyman) is the result of sycophantic PR and that he was an unpredictable tyrant from his youth instead of becoming a despot through ill health (and possibly a brain injury). Is Wilson right? It's possible, but I'm not sure I agree with his reasoning. Wilson seems to believe that Henry was a terrible leader (and musician, and thinker) for one reason. Even when he was young and sexy, he wasn't particularly good in bed. Wilson uses his wives low fertility and the presence of a single acknowledged illegitimate child as evidence, along with Henry's habit of falling in love with his mistresses instead of just sleeping with several women at court. While Henry's last two wives did not conceive while married to him, he was by that point morbidly obese and most likely suffering form heart disease and diabetes. It's possible he was unable to even consummate those marriages. Catherine of Aragon, however, conceived several times, and Anne Boleyn conceived at least twice in three years. As for his habit of falling in love rather than rutting like an animal, I don't think that's a sign of weakness. IF true, it makes Henry more enlightened than most of his contemporaries. Henry VIII: Reformer and Tyrant is an interesting take on a fascinating character, but a bit too Freudian for my taste.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
Catherine of Aragon: Henry's Spanish Queen
Catherine of Aragon always seems to be seen in reflection - Henry VIII's first wife, Mary Tudor's mother, Charles V's aunt, and the stubborn and deeply religious cause of the English Reformation. She was more, though - she'd have to be, to survive more time as Henry's Queen than her five successors combined. She was deeply devout, and brilliant, and politically aware, yet because she was a woman, she had to rely on others in her attempt to prove the validity of her marriage.
The story of Catherine's life is well known, and while Tremlett portrays it well, the facts are too well known for any revelations. The daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, who merged his minor kingdom with her more powerful domain to form the unified Spain that still exists, Catherine's early years were spent as a pawn on the marriage market. Betrothed to Arthur, Henry VII's oldest son, she traveled to England as a pre-teen to be groomed for her eventual role. She married Arthur, he died a few months later, and after three years in the limbo of widowhood, she married Arthur's younger brother Henry. She failed to produce a surviving son, and after Henry took that as a sign that their marriage was cursed, spent the rest of her life trying to maintain her position.
I found Tremlett's insights into Catherine's personality more interesting. Brilliant and with a flair for diplomacy, she acted as Henry's ambassador and stand in at various points in their marriage. In fact, she was probably better at running England than her husband - both were intelligent and educated, but Henry, even before the head injury which may have been responsible for his later tyranny, didn't have the attention span or personality for ruling. Perhaps this brilliance is why the Pope repeatedly postponed deciding on the validity of her marriage, or perhaps that brilliance led to the arrogance which kept her from accepting a settlement.
Catherine's faith, which sustained her through her trials, may have also been their partial cause. She was from the medieval world which saw mortification of the flesh as necessary for eternal salvation and frequently fasted to the point of starvation, particularly during the three years between Arthur's death and her marriage to Henry. The teenage Catherine spent those years wondering if she was going to be returned to Spain, married to her father-in-law, sent to a convent, or returned to the marriage market; it's not hard for modern eyes to see her faithful fasting as a way to control something in her life. Anorexia, or some other eating disorder, could partially explain her pregnancy troubles.
That leads us to the big question - did Arthur and Catherine consummate their marriage? Tremlett isn't sure. Would such a devout woman fight so hard for a lie, or did the realization that she would lose everything overrule her ethics? The announcement of her first pregnancy with Henry provides evidence for both sides of the argument. The country was eager for an heir, so Henry and Catherine announced her pregnancy - several months before she was, in fact, pregnant. On one side, this shows a level of comfort with private lies for political means, but Tremlett also discusses the possibility that neither Catherine nor Henry was fully aware of how conception worked. One would think that if she'd consummated her several-month marriage to Arthur, someone would have provided her with some information. The mystery remains.
The story of Catherine's life is well known, and while Tremlett portrays it well, the facts are too well known for any revelations. The daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, who merged his minor kingdom with her more powerful domain to form the unified Spain that still exists, Catherine's early years were spent as a pawn on the marriage market. Betrothed to Arthur, Henry VII's oldest son, she traveled to England as a pre-teen to be groomed for her eventual role. She married Arthur, he died a few months later, and after three years in the limbo of widowhood, she married Arthur's younger brother Henry. She failed to produce a surviving son, and after Henry took that as a sign that their marriage was cursed, spent the rest of her life trying to maintain her position.
I found Tremlett's insights into Catherine's personality more interesting. Brilliant and with a flair for diplomacy, she acted as Henry's ambassador and stand in at various points in their marriage. In fact, she was probably better at running England than her husband - both were intelligent and educated, but Henry, even before the head injury which may have been responsible for his later tyranny, didn't have the attention span or personality for ruling. Perhaps this brilliance is why the Pope repeatedly postponed deciding on the validity of her marriage, or perhaps that brilliance led to the arrogance which kept her from accepting a settlement.
Catherine's faith, which sustained her through her trials, may have also been their partial cause. She was from the medieval world which saw mortification of the flesh as necessary for eternal salvation and frequently fasted to the point of starvation, particularly during the three years between Arthur's death and her marriage to Henry. The teenage Catherine spent those years wondering if she was going to be returned to Spain, married to her father-in-law, sent to a convent, or returned to the marriage market; it's not hard for modern eyes to see her faithful fasting as a way to control something in her life. Anorexia, or some other eating disorder, could partially explain her pregnancy troubles.
That leads us to the big question - did Arthur and Catherine consummate their marriage? Tremlett isn't sure. Would such a devout woman fight so hard for a lie, or did the realization that she would lose everything overrule her ethics? The announcement of her first pregnancy with Henry provides evidence for both sides of the argument. The country was eager for an heir, so Henry and Catherine announced her pregnancy - several months before she was, in fact, pregnant. On one side, this shows a level of comfort with private lies for political means, but Tremlett also discusses the possibility that neither Catherine nor Henry was fully aware of how conception worked. One would think that if she'd consummated her several-month marriage to Arthur, someone would have provided her with some information. The mystery remains.
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