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Andrew Graham-Dixon chronicles the life of the world-renowned artist who was barely known in his own lifetime
Johannes Vermeer is now regarded as one of the leading lights of the Dutch Golden Age, and indeed one of the greatest artists of all time. But in his own lifetime he was hardly known outside his own circle, and made so little money that he could barely afford to feed his large family. In this episode of the HistoryExtra podcast, Andrew Graham-Dixon, author of a new biography of Vermeer, chronicles the artist’s life – and argues that to fully understand the man and his work, we need to explore the religious milieu of the Dutch Republic in the 17th century. He was joined in conversation by Rob Attar.
From the morally bankrupt to the staggeringly inept, Jonny Wilkes guides us through the lives of 16 rulers who wrote their names into the history books for all the wrong reasons
The past has no shortage of disastrous kings, queens, and other rulers; such a list could easily have been filled with the worst Roman emperors alone. Some have been homicidal, like Nero or Genghis Khan; simply incompetent, like Edward II; completely untrustworthy, like Charles I; or amiable but inadequate, like Louis XVI of France. But who are truly the worst, and why? Jonny Wilkes makes the case against 16 rulers from history… <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/GettyImages-520718487-44a3fc9-e1776420577392.jpg" width="1498" height="1000" alt="A medieval battle scene shows armoured soldiers fighting with spears and shields, while two mounted knights dominate the centre and right. The figures wear ornate gold-and-black armour, and richly decorated horses move through the fray. Stone buildings and a towered structure rise in the background." title="King Tarquin and his family were expelled from Rome in 509 BC, paving the way for the creation of the Roman Republic (Image by Getty Images)" /> 1. Lucius Tarquinius Superbus King of Rome, 534–509 BC Before Rome had emperors, it had a line of kings going back to the city’s mythical founder, Romulus. The last, however, presided over a reign of terror so bad that the people gave up on the monarchy altogether, heralding the dawn of the Republic. Lucius Tarquinius Superbus (commonly known as ‘Tarquin the Proud’) had seized the throne by planning the assassination of his own father-in-law, then once in power he killed senators on a whim and imprisoned or executed anyone suspected of disloyalty. His undoing came when his son raped a noblewoman, which caused such outrage that a revolt broke out that saw the tyrannical king overthrown and exiled. In his doomed attempts to regain the throne, he persuaded neighbouring cities to attack Rome, seemingly unfazed by the damage this would do to his erstwhile kingdom. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/GettyImages-1439484597-HR-9ecf251-e1776420717721.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="An illustration shows a person in a fur garment and sandals lifting a club to strike a bear that rears up on its hind legs with claws extended. They stand in an enclosed arena-like space." title="A 19th-century image depicts Commodus fighting a bear. The emperor is best known today as the main antagonist in the 2000 blockbuster Gladiator (Image by Getty Images)" /> 2. Commodus Roman emperor, 177–92 AD There are a number of contenders to the title of ‘most despicable emperor of Rome’, so we could just as easily be discussing the cruel and murderous rules of, say, Nero and Caligula. The bloodthirsty, vainglorious spendthrift, Commodus, however, went from inheriting an empire enjoying a long period of peace and prosperity, the Pax Romana, to leaving it broke and in turmoil. If not executing anyone he suspected of plotting against him, he was leaving the job of ruling the empire to a series of corrupt, cruel and incompetent favourites. He much preferred to fight as a gladiator, relishing in slaughtering a menagerie of animals in the arena. No wonder, then, that Commodus was chosen as the villain in Ridley Scott’s swords-and-sandals masterpiece, Gladiator. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/4King-JohnGettyImages-804458704-88379ce-e1776420847382.jpg" width="1498" height="1000" alt="A medieval illustration shows a crowned figure in red robes signing a document at a table covered with an ornate cloth, while knights, clerics, and noblemen stand around under a canopy. A grassy landscape with tents and figures appears behind them." title="A fanciful illustration depicts King John signing the Magna Carta at Runnymede. In reality, the charter was authenticated with his royal seal (Image by Getty Images)" /> 3. John King of England, 1199–1216 Seriously, how could the arch-villain of Robin Hood not make an appearance? Beyond the tale of the fabled outlaw, John severely damaged the authority of the English monarchy. As a prince, he angered the nobles of Ireland and attempted to steal his brother Richard I’s crown, only ending up as king after Richard died without a legitimate heir. Notably, he also managed to outmanoeuvre a rival claim from his nephew, Arthur of Brittany, whom he is later believed to have had murdered. Within a few years in power, John had lost Normandy – the foundation of his family’s Angevin empire on the continent – then he emptied the kingdom’s coffers trying to win it back. His oppressively high taxes, his clashes with the church and his cruel and conniving personality all led to a revolt of England’s barons. Under threat of civil war, John was forced to seal Magna Carta, a historic document that limited royal power. He then proceeded to ignore it. The barons rose up again and John’s reign ended, dying of dysentery, as he fought to keep hold of his kingdom. Read more | How King John helped bring about a political miracle in medieval England <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/GettyImages-929217154-a82abdb-e1776421043333.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="An emperor in elaborate robes and a crown sits composed on a throne between patterned pillars, while attendants in similar ceremonial clothing move hurriedly across the foreground. Smoke or swirling shapes fill the space, and broken pottery pieces lie near the throne, adding to the sense of disruption." title="An illustration depicts Emperor Aizong on his throne during the Mongol siege of Caizhou. The ruler’s death led to his general, Wanyan Chenglin, taking power – albeit very briefly (Image by Getty Images)" /> 4. Wanyan Chenglin Emperor of the Jin dynasty, 1234 On 9 February 1234, with the warriors of the Mongol empire besieging the city of Caizhou, the emperor of the Jin dynasty in China, Aizong, knew that his 10-year reign would be over shortly. That said, he did not want to be the last in his line, so he abdicated and passed the throne to his general, Wanyan Chenglin, before taking his own life. The reluctant new emperor began a reign that would be doomed to last just a matter of hours. He was killed leading his soldiers in a last stand when the Mongols broke through the city walls. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/12Charles-the-BadGettyImages-587495540-00b7ee7-e1776421241476.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A medieval manuscript illustration shows a crowned figure in red robes seated inside a small architectural chamber, gesturing toward several figures in long white robes standing outside. The scene is set against a patterned gold and red background with a decorative border" title="Charles II of Navarre harangues a crowd of angry Parisians. The monarch’s abysmal leadership earned him the name ‘Charles the Bad’ (Image by Getty Images)" /> 5. Charles the Bad King of Navarre, 1349–87 The name gives away why he belongs on this list, doesn’t it? Charles earned ‘the Bad’ for his duplicitous and treacherous behaviour in the Hundred Years’ War between England and France. Although King of Navarre in Spain, he owned a lot of land in northern France, which put him in the middle of the conflict, and his response was to keep flipping sides. Driven solely by ambition, he believed he should be on the French throne, and he plotted and murdered to get it. All the while, Navarre went ignored. What made him truly bad, though, was that his schemes failed utterly. Charles is perhaps best-known today for his grisly end in 1387, when the brandy-soaked sheets he had been wrapped in to cure an illness accidentally caught fire, burning him alive. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/13GettyImages-973900956-e2098c3-e1776421323481.jpg" width="1496" height="1000" alt="A painted portrait shows a person wearing a dark garment with a white collar and a gold chain decorated with jewels and a cross‑shaped pendant. They wear a dark cap, set against a reddish background." title="Henry VI’s disastrous rule led to the outbreak of the Wars of the Roses, during which he lost his throne twice (Image by Getty Images)" /> 6. Henry VI King of England, 1422–61, 1470-71 Ascending the throne of England as an infant and the son of the hero of Agincourt, the young Henry VI was always going to struggle to live up to his dynastic legacy. Not helped by his total lack of leadership, it went even worse than feared: he lost control of France (won by his father Henry V), suffered a mental breakdown, and saw his kingdom plunge into the Wars of the Roses. The Lancastrian cause would be headed not by the king, but his queen, Margaret. Henry’s role amounted to being kicked off the throne by the Yorkist Edward IV, then placed back on it by the ‘kingmaker’, the Earl of Warwick, and finally losing it again after being captured. Read more | The power behind the throne: women in the Wars of the Roses <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/6-Christian-II-GettyImages-1474551628-a0ec6c8-e1776421427762.jpg" width="1497" height="1000" alt="A rustic stone-walled room is lit softly as an older person with grey hair stands behind a carved wooden chair. Another figure in dark Renaissance-style clothing with puffed sleeves and a hat leans on a round table set with a pewter jug, a cup, and a plate holding a small piece of food. A large ceramic jug rests on the floor, and behind them is a bed draped in red and white fabric with shelves holding household objects." title="Christian II spent the last 27 years of his life under lock and key, as shown in this 1871 painting by Carl Bloch (Image by Getty Images)" /> 7. Christian II King of Denmark and Norway, 1513–23 Christian’s reign may seem more insignificant than terrible at first glance, but it signalled the end of the Kalmar Union, which had bound together the Scandinavian countries of Denmark, Norway and Sweden for well over a century. Having been crowned in the first two of those countries in 1513, he set out to secure the third. It would not be until 1520 that he captured Stockholm, although, hardly magnanimous in victory, his immediate action was to execute 82 nobles. The so-called Stockholm Bloodbath fuelled a Swedish rebellion against Christian and weakened his authority back in Denmark and Norway. He was overthrown and exiled, and then when he launched a desperate bid to win back his thrones by force, he was imprisoned for the rest of his life. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/3Ivan-the-TerribleGettyImages-2182465325-461b373-e1776421509731.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A painted portrait shows a ruler wearing richly decorated robes and a tall, jeweled crown, holding a golden scepter in one hand and an orb topped with a cross in the other. The background is dark, highlighting the elaborate attire." title="No one was safe from Ivan the Terrible – he is even said to have murdered his own son in a fit of rage (Image by Getty Images)" /> 8. Ivan the Terrible Tsar of Russia, 1547–84 As the first tsar, Ivan was in some ways an able ruler since he laid the foundations of the Russian empire. He became known as ‘the Terrible’ for a reason, though. Having hated the nobles from an early age (at 13, he had one fed to a pack of dogs), he wasted no time in purging the upper classes. The domain he inherited clearly was not enough: he instigated numerous, and disastrous, wars of expansion, and even established his own fiefdom within his land where, essentially, anything went. With Ivan prone to paranoia and fits of rages, no one was safe: he ordered a full-on attack on one of his own cities, Novgorod, and beat his daughter-in-law into having a miscarriage, then murdered his son. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/9Rudolf-IIGettyImages-905611540-b04ce2b-e1776421580535.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A formal portrait shows a man in dark, gold‑detailed armour with a white ruffled collar, holding a baton and resting his other hand on a decorated sword. He stands beside a red‑covered table with a feathered hat, against a backdrop of patterned gold‑and‑red drapery." title="Holy Roman Emperor Rudolf II depicted c1580. Critics of Rudolf’s rule claim that he spent more time dabbling in the arts than governing his vast domain (Image by Getty Images)" /> 9. Rudolf II Holy Roman Emperor, 1576–1612 Despite being hailed as a generous patron of the arts and sciences, Habsburg emperor Rudolf II utterly failed in his role as the leader of one of Europe’s major powers. Rather than focusing on politics and administration, he instead shut himself away to focus on personal pursuits like alchemy. When he did show some determination – starting a war with the Ottoman empire to unify Christendom – it proved a disaster. His subjects in Hungary revolted and his family made him hand over power to his younger brother. Rudolf’s most damning legacy, however, was that his miserable tenure as emperor has been blamed as one of the causes of the Thirty Years’ War, one of the bloodiest conflicts in history. Read more | What was the Habsburg jaw? <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/8-LouisXVGettyImages-587493726-ce25b64-e1776421720614.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A formal portrait shows a man in a blue velvet coat with gold embroidery, a white waistcoat, lace cuffs, and a blue sash decorated with medals. He stands before red drapery with a cloudy sky in the background." title="King Louis XV ruled France for nearly 59 years – but his time on the throne was marred by countless failures (Image by Getty Images)" /> 10. Louis XV King of France, 1715–74 It could certainly be argued that Louis XV’s status as a poor king of France was overshadowed by his successor, Louis XVI, since he was the one who lost his head in the French Revolution. Yet Louis XV’s reign sowed the seeds of the people’s discontent that would lead to such a violent rejection of the monarchy. In short, he was a deeply ineffectual ruler, let alone the all-powerful absolutist king that France had become accustomed to under Louis XIV. Reports of corruption and handing over influence to his mistresses hurt the crown’s authority, while his wars and extravagant spending depleted the coffers. France became a less powerful nation under his rule, and smaller too: he gave up New France in the Americas after the disastrous Seven Years’ War. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/5Ferdinand-VIIGettyImages-1288509729-08b1863-e1776421796923.jpg" width="1498" height="1000" alt="A detailed 19th‑century ceremonial scene depicts royals and high‑ranking officials in elaborate uniforms and gowns assembled by a waterfront. Boats and sailors fill the foreground, while clergy, soldiers, and attendants stand nearby. A grand architectural building rises in the background." title="A painting shows Ferdinand VII greeting the French Duke of Angoulême, whose 1823 invasion of Spain – ordered by fellow Bourbon Louis XVIII – restored Ferdinand’s absolutist authority after three years of constitutional rule (Image by Getty Images)" /> 11. Ferdinand VII King of Spain, 1808, 1813–33 Shortly after taking the throne in 1808, Ferdinand handed over his kingdom – and himself – to Napoleon Bonaparte. Six years of captivity in France later, he returned with a need to prove his absolutist credentials and so ditched Spain’s liberal constitution that had been written in his absence. This led to multiple uprisings, notably the revolt of 1820, which ushered in three years during which the king was forced to accept a constitutional regime. While more selfish than monstrous, Ferdinand’s legacy and place on this list were confirmed by two things: he oversaw the loss of nearly all of Spain’s colonial territories in the Americas and, following his death, his petty bid to exclude his brother from the succession resulted in a long civil war. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/11Ranavalona-IGettyImages-1414087523-76615ce-e1776421903297.jpg" width="1496" height="1000" alt="A portrait shows a person in a long pink gown with ruffled trim and a red, gold‑edged cape, standing outdoors with a jeweled crown on their head. They hold a white handkerchief, with trees and distant hills behind them." title="It is said that Queen Ranavalona wanted to create a pair of giant scissors to cut her enemies in half (Image by Getty Images)" /> 12. Ranavalona I Queen of Imerina, 1828–61 To try and hold back the wave of European colonisation in Africa, Queen Ranavalona I, of modern-day Madagascar, would go to any lengths. She wanted to purge all foreign influence, expelling missionaries, persecuting Christians and restricting trade. She even tried to have a giant pair of scissors made so that she could literally chop foreigners in half. The ones who suffered the most, however, were her people: to preserve her land’s self-sufficiency and way of life, as she saw it, Ranavalona used forced labour for her royal projects and fear to maintain order. Many executions took the form of the tangena ordeal, a witch-hunt-style trial where the accused was made to ingest poison and if they showed any adverse effects, they were deemed guilty. It is claimed that as much as 50 per cent of the population perished during her rule. Read more | “Africans have been starved of historical figures from their own lands that they can look up to”: Paula Akpan on female African leaders <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/10Leopold-IIGettyImages-1340093773-009a5d7-e1776421971106.jpg" width="1497" height="1000" alt="A political cartoon depicts a person trapped in the coils of a large red snake whose head is drawn as a crowned man. Another figure stands in the background near vegetation and a hut." title="A satirical cartoon from Punch magazine depicts King Leopold II as a snake, viciously attacking a Congolese rubber worker (Image by Getty Images)" /> 13. Leopold II King of the Belgians, 1865–1909 Leopold II may not have been a terrible king in Belgium itself, but with the Congo Free State, he revealed just how much of a monster he could be. In 1885, he created his own state in central Africa, having convinced European powers that he intended to improve the lives of the people living there. In reality, this privately owned kingdom allowed Leopold to exploit the Congolese people so that he could make money from its ivory and natural rubber reserves. Under his system of forced labour, any workers who failed to meet their quotas would be punished with mutilation. Leopold’s preferred method was chopping off hands and feet. Millions died from the brutality and rampant diseases. This was an age where European empires carved up and exploited the African continent, so the fact that international outrage finally forced Leopold to hand over the Congo Free State illustrates the appalling extent of the atrocities. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/7Khalid-ibn-Barghash-fb0d656.jpg" width="551" height="775" alt="A black‑and‑white photograph shows a person seated on an ornate chair, wearing a turban, a long decorated robe, and sandals, with a curved dagger at the waist. A patterned carpet and cushioned bench appear behind them." title="The Anglo-Zanzibar War – which lasted for just 38 minutes – put Khalid ibn Barghash’s three-day rule to an end" /> 14. Khalid ibn Barghash Sultan of Zanzibar, 1896 Not only did Khalid ibn Barghash rule for just three days, but he was ousted in the shortest war in history. So, in truth, there is no knowing whether he would have been a bad ruler: there wasn’t enough time. In 1896, the sultan of Zanzibar died, which put the British in a tough position. They controlled the islands off the east African coast as it served as a strategic trade post for the Indian Ocean. Against British wishes, Khalid, who may well have killed his predecessor, assumed the role of sultan and fortified the palace with around 3,000 supporters. The British sent warships, though, and initiated a brief bombardment. The Anglo-Zanzibar War lasted around 38 minutes, and Khalid fled into exile. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/17Nicholas-IIGettyImages-542910549-cbbc229-e1776422122833.jpg" width="1498" height="1000" alt="A historical black‑and‑white photograph depicts two officers in peaked caps, boots, and decorated uniforms standing on a grassy field and speaking to one another. Behind them, other officers gather in small groups, and a horse‑drawn carriage or artillery piece sits near the tree line." title="Tsar Nicholas II (right) addresses a Russian officer during the First World War. The Romanov ruler was overthrown in 1917 and murdered alongside his family the following year (Image by Getty Images)" /> 15. Nicholas II Tsar of Russia, 1894–1917 The Romanov dynasty ruled Russia for more than 300 years – and it all ended during the reign of Nicholas II. Not suited to wielding autocratic power over a huge empire, he made a catalogue of errors and refused to adapt beyond his rigid belief that he had the divinely ordained right to rule. In 1905 alone, Russia lost a war with Japan and broke out in revolution, yet Nicholas only made cursory changes and tried to move on. His court became dominated by the strange and ambitious mystic, Rasputin, his nobles and politicians abandoned him, and his decision to take command of the armies in the First World War meant that he was held personally responsible for every defeat and death. Revolution erupted again in 1917, forcing his abdication. While imprisoned by the revolutionaries, Nicholas and his entire family were murdered. It was a bloody and definitive end to the tsars, as Russia became a communist regime. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/15Edward-VIIIGettyImages-514689872-8d0ca51-e1776422238781.jpg" width="1497" height="1000" alt="A black‑and‑white photograph shows three people standing side by side outdoors: a man in a military uniform with insignia, a man in a long overcoat and tie, and a person in a dark coat and hat. A building with shuttered windows appear behind them." title="The Duke and Duchess of Windsor (formerly Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson) pictured with Adolf Hitler, 1937. The couple’s meeting with the Führer proved highly controversial (Image by Getty Images)" /> 16. Edward VIII King of England, 1936 Edward became king on 20 January 1936, on the death of his father George V. Before the year was out, he had abdicated in disgrace. His brief reign had entirely been focused on his wish to marry an American named Wallis Simpson, but she had been divorced once and was seeking a second, making her wholly unacceptable to the royal family, the political establishment and the church. Yet his reputation as a bad monarch could have been even worse had he stayed: Edward has long been accused of being a Nazi sympathiser, who toured Hitler’s Germany almost two years before the Second World War.
"Let the sky rain potatoes!": the hidden meanings behind Shakespeare's food obsession
Shakespeare and his peers served up hearty helpings of diverse dishes and ingredients – many of them spiced with forgotten meanings. Sam Bilton reveals how food allusions illustrate key themes of everyday life
“There shall be no more cakes and ale” Puritan hypocrisy Shakespeare’s works are peppered with countless food references: pies, cakes, capons and a great deal of sherry, for starters. Some are set-dressing details, but many were allusions that would have been obvious to theatregoers of the day – references to dietary theory, political ideas and cultural mores. Food was important to all – something to which everyone could relate, irrespective of social standing or level of literacy. Take the moment in Act 2, Scene 3 of Twelfth Night when the fun-loving Sir Toby Belch asks Olivia’s Puritan steward, Malvolio: “Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/GettyImages-171071495webready-c1637ad-e1774448528234.jpg" width="620" height="413" alt="A figure dressed in theatrical, jester‑style attire poses against a sepia, textured backdrop. They wear a tall hat with a pom‑pom, a large ruffled collar, and a voluminous dark cloak. One hand holds a slender staff; the other holds a small object topped with a circular shape" title="Malvolio in Twelfth Night. This pompous Puritan is ridiculed for censuring ‘ales’ (festive social gatherings) (Image by Getty Images)" /> In Shakespeare’s day, the word ‘ale’ referred not only to a drink but also to social gatherings celebrating everything from religious holidays (for example, Whitsun-ales) to weddings – hence the word ‘bridal’, from ‘bride-ale’. In this period, cake was more akin to brioche, and contained expensive ingredients such as sugar, spices and exotic dried fruit – definitely a luxury. Cakes and ale parties were occasional treats for most – and strictly off-limits to Puritans. So, in this scene, Sir Toby is ridiculing Malvolio’s prim and proper attitude, calling him a party pooper. In his play Bartholomew Fair (1614), Shakespeare’s contemporary Ben Jonson also highlights the hypocrisy of religious zealots. The Puritan pastor Zeal-of-the-land Busy is a former baker of cakes “served to bridals, may-poles, morrices, and such profane feasts and meetings”. Busy is highly critical of displays of gluttony, such as eating a hog roast at the fair, particularly by women. Yet moments before he launches into a diatribe against eating pork in public, he is caught “fast by the teeth in the cold turkey-pie in the cupboard, with a great white loaf on his left hand, and a glass of malmsey on his right”. White bread and malmsey wine were trappings of a well-to-do lifestyle. As for Malvolio, he throws his righteousness out of the window the minute he comes to believe – falsely – that Olivia is in love with him. He is described as plumping his proverbial feathers like a “turkeycock” and imagining himself wearing velvet, a fabric reserved for nobility. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/hip1620562webready-fd246db-e1774448660973.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A formal banquet scene shows richly dressed figures seated and standing around a long table covered with a white cloth. Servants and guests interact as food and drink are served, with architectural details and a distant landscape visible in the background." title="A 19th-century illustration of a banquet scene in The Taming of the Shrew. In Shakespeare’s play, Petruchio hopes to soften his wife Katherina’s ‘choler’ (ill-temper) by restricting her diet (Image by Topfoto)" /> “Did he marry me to famish me?” Balancing humours In the early modern period, the prevailing Galenic theory of health held that a person’s physical well-being was governed by four ‘humours’ in the body: blood, black bile, yellow bile and phlegm. For good health, these humours had to be in balance; if one dominated, it could result in physical or mental issues. For example, people with an excess of black bile were inclined to despondency and introspection, like Jacques in As You Like It. In The Taming of the Shrew, newly wed Katherina is “Renown’d in Padua for her scolding tongue”. According to the humoural theory of the period, this behaviour would indicate an excess of yellow bile, making her ‘choleric’, or quick to anger. Read more | Shakespeare didn't love his wife and he abandoned his family to move to London: are these 13 rumours about the playwright true? Such a humoural imbalance might be treated through diet. Foods were also classified by their nature: hot, dry, cold or wet. Essentially, you were what you ate. ‘Choleric’ people such as Katherina were considered to be hot and dry, so foods of a similar nature could potentially exacerbate the imbalance and make these folk even more irritable. At the beginning of Act IV, Katherina’s husband, Petruchio, orders the removal from the table of some overdone mutton because it “engenders choler, planteth anger”. Later in the same act, Petruchio’s manservant, Grumio, offers Katherina a series of tempting foods culminating in a dish of beef and mustard – but retracts all of these in turn, deeming them too choleric. Exasperated and hungry, Katherina chases Grumio from the room, shouting: “Go, get thee gone, thou false deluding slave, That feed’st me with the very name of meat.” By denying Katherina sustenance, Petruchio is hoping to correct her behaviour and rebalance her humours. Clearly, he was not familiar with the concept of being ‘hangry’. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/GettyImages-1314701597webready-3135879-e1774448807729.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A humorous scene shows three soldiers in colourful Renaissance clothing. One sits on the ground grimacing beside a broken sword, with a leek stuck in his mouth while the central standing figure lifts a stick as if scolding or threatening him. A third soldier in blue stands behind them holding a spear and smiling. Rows of tents and distant mountains form the backdrop." title="A Georgian print shows proud Welshman Fluellen forcing the sneery English ensign Pistol (left) to eat a raw leek – with potentially unpleasant health consequences – in Henry V (Image by Getty Images)" /> "If you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek" National pride In Shakespeare’s day, experts on dietary theory regarded leeks as food for rustics who had strong constitutions – they were unsuitable for more gentrified folk. At best, when cooked in a pottage, leeks had a diuretic effect – good for drawing out phlegm. At worst, eating them could cause toothache, flatulence, headaches and nightmares. So leeks, particularly in their raw state, were best avoided – which may explain why they feature in so few recipes found in early modern cookbooks. For the Welsh, however, the leek was an emblem of national pride. Leeks were worn in Monmouth caps on Saint David’s Day (1 March) to commemorate the Welsh victory over the Saxons in the sixth century. So in Henry V, the Welsh captain Fluellen is incensed when the ensign Pistol mocks that emblem, and jibes that the Welshman eats his leek with bread and salt, thereby demoting it to a basic food stuff. In Act 5, Scene 1, Fluellen exacts his revenge by beating Pistol with a raw leek then forcing him to eat it, exclaiming: “Because, look you, you do not love it, nor your affections and your appetites and your digestions does not agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.” Though this scene undoubtedly has comic undertones, Shakespeare’s audiences would also have been well aware of the potential consequences for Pistol’s health. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/ali051530webready-d1a9ba0-e1774448887475.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A medieval illustration depicts two adults working at a wooden table, kneading a large round mass of dough. A child in blue stands in a doorway to the left, observing, while a white dog drinks from the ground beneath the table. The building has patterned walls and two leafy trees stand nearby." title="Women make butter in an illustration from a medieval health treatise. People from the Low Countries were known for their love of butter, which was thought to ward off colic (Image by Topfoto)" /> “I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter” Attitudes to immigrants Food was often used to highlight cultural stereotypes. For example, the Flemish and Dutch were renowned for their love of butter. In Ben Jonson’s play Volpone (c1605/06), Mosca says: “You shall ha’ some will swallow / A melting heir, as glibly, as your Dutch / Will pills of butter, and ne’re purge for’t.” So: dishonest people swindle the naive without remorse – or as blithely as the Dutch eat butter. Read more | The simple secret that kept the ordinary Tudor diet surprisingly healthy Foreign characters were often played for laughs, but some food references reveal deeper prejudices. In Sir Thomas More, attributed to Anthony Munday and Henry Chettle with revisions by others including Shakespeare, xenophobic English merchants decry immigrants for introducing parsnips into the country. The fear is that these “strange roots” grown in manure cause disease: “Trash, trash; they breed sore eyes, and tis enough to infect the city with the palsey.” That play also expresses a fear that immigrants in London were eating more than their fair share of food, and stealing local people’s livelihoods: “For so it is that aliens and strangers eat the bread from the fatherless children, and take the living from all the artificers and the intercourse from all the merchants, whereby poverty is so much increased.” Such lines reflect attitudes of the day to foreigners in England. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/BAL179666webready-51e7483-e1774448962531.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A side‑by‑side botanical illustration shows a yam (Dioscorea alata) on the left and a sweet potato (Ipomoea batatas) on the right. Each plant is drawn with its brown tuber, green leaves, and distinctive flowers—small buds on the yam and pinkish‑purple funnel‑shaped blooms on the sweet potato." title="Sweet potato, shown here, was an exotic luxury in Shakespeare’s time, and believed to have aphrodisiac properties (Image by Bridgeman)" /> “Let the sky rain potatoes!” Exotic aphrodisiacs Modern theatregoers watching The Merry Wives of Windsor may be puzzled by Sir John Falstaff’s line invoking a bombardment of potatoes – particularly in what is supposed to be a scene of seduction or, as Falstaff puts it, “a tempest of provocation”. But in Shakespeare’s day, certain foods were believed to have aphrodisiac properties – among them the exotic potato, along with the eryngo (sea holly) roots also mentioned in this speech. The tubers invoked in Shakespeare’s play were most likely what was then known as the Spanish variety, or sweet potatoes. At that time, these were viewed as novelty foods and, therefore, luxuries, not staples. They were often preserved with sugar – also considered a lust-inducing ingredient – and aromatics such as rosewater. One 16th-century cook, Thomas Dawson, included potatoes in his recipe for ‘A Tart That Is a Courage to a Man or Woman’, along with quinces (another aphrodisiac), sugar, spices and cock-sparrow brains. The recipe ends with the instruction: “So let it boyle till it be something bigge”. This probably isn’t a euphemism for anything saucy – but, given the lusty nature of the ingredients, who’s to say what Dawson is really driving at? Incidentally, during this period parsnips were also believed to promote lustful urges – another strike against the foreigners who introduced that root vegetable, and who were often viewed as being lascivious. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/MARXC2webready-a3df156-e1774449069447.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A medieval-style scene depicts two figures seated together in a large wooden tub beneath a blue canopy. The person on the right is reaching across to touch the breast of the other person in the tub. Two attendants in long gowns stand beside them, one carrying a jug and the other a plate. A brick wall and window frame the setting" title="A colourised 16th-century woodcut shows a couple being served food and drink while frolicking in a bath. Stewed prunes were associated with brothels, possibly based on a belief that they helped protect against sexually transmitted diseases (Image by Alamy)" /> “I cannot abide the smell of hot meat since” Witty innuendo While some foods were believed to boost sexual appetites and performance, others were considered to provide protection from associated risks. For example, unlikely as it seems today, in earlier times stewed prunes were associated with prostitutes and brothels. In the satirical poem The Knave of Harts (1612) by Samuel Rowlands, a “whoring knave” is served with ‘‘Burnt wine, stew’d Prunes, a Puncke [prostitute] to solace him”. Why the reference to prunes here? One theory is that they were believed to protect against sexually transmitted diseases such as syphilis. Links between prostitution and food don’t end with prunes. Take the following line spoken by Abraham Slender in The Merry Wives of Windsor: “I bruised my shin th’ other day with playing at sword and dagger with a master of fence – three veneys for a dish of stewed prunes – and, by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot meat since.” Read more | What did the Tudors think was ‘good’ sex? These tips and tricks were key to relationships in the 16th century The first part implies that he is talking about a fencing match – but what on earth do prunes and hot meat have to do with swordplay? The reference to stewed prunes suggests that Slender is in fact talking about an episode in a brothel. In addition, prostitutes were often compared to joints of meat such as mutton – hence the end of his comment. When the Hostess in Henry IV, Part 2 quips: “What’s a joint of mutton or two in a whole Lent?” she’s saying that a dalliance with a prostitute (or two) can do no harm, even for the virtuous. So the “hot meat” to which Slender refers is a sex worker, and veney is an archaic English word meaning a bout or thrust. Essentially, he is talking about a poor sexual encounter with a prostitute. So why not have Slender say more plainly: “I had a bad experience with a prostitute, and now I’m sworn off all women”? Given the sexual innuendo prevalent in early modern plays, it seems unlikely that the use of food references to allude to sex was an attempt to avoid censorship – in fact, blasphemy and political comments were more likely to upset the authorities. In any case, the meaning of these phrases was entirely transparent at the time. Rather, food references – in the comedies, particularly – injected added wit into dialogue. Sam Bilton is a food historian, author and podcaster. Her latest book is Much Ado About Cooking: Delicious Shakespearean Feasts for Every Occasion (OH, 2025) This article was first published in the March 2026 issue of HistoryExtra Magazine
What happened to Shakespeare's daughters? A guide to the playwright's family life and descendants
The story of the Shakespeares was one of social advancement, says Stanley Wells, reflected in dwellings that rose from rural farmstead to manorial splendour. Along the way were some family upsets: pregnant brides, lawsuits and excommunication. As a film adaptation of Maggie O'Farrell's novel Hamnet arrives on cinema screens, find out more about when William married Anne (Agnes) Hathaway, when their children were born, and what became of the Shakespeare family after the playwright's death…
He is one of the greatest writers of all time, and our longing to know as much as we can about him continues. We know that William Shakespeare was born in 1564 to John and Mary Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, and that he was their first child to survive past infancy. During the Elizabethan period, infant mortality was very high, and his parents had already lost two daughters before young William was born. The exact date of his birth is unknown, but his baptismal record survives, showing that Gulielmus filius Johannes Shakespeare (William, son of John Shakespeare) was baptised in Stratford-upon-Avon’s Holy Trinity Church on 26 April 1564. His birthday is now celebrated on 23 April, since it was common for baptisms to be held three days after a birth. As a film adaptation of Maggie O'Farrell's historical novel, Hamnet, starring Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal, is released, find out more about the playwright's home life and how his family influences shaped him – plus what happened to his daughters after the story of Hamnet concludes. William Shakespeare's birth family: who were his parents? The story of Shakespeare’s family – one of upward social mobility – is reflected in their homes. Start in the small village of Wilmcote, three miles north of Stratford-upon-Avon, where the playwright’s mother, Mary Arden, grew up in a small farmhouse built around 1514 by her father, Robert. Mary was the youngest of eight daughters by his first wife; his second, Agnes Hill, brought with her two sons and two daughters. When Robert made his will in 1556, he named young Mary as one of his two executors and left her a substantial amount of land and money, which suggests that she was a woman of exceptional ability. Mary Arden married the up-and-coming glover (and later wool dealer and money-lender) John Shakespeare, probably in 1557. Before long they moved into his substantial double-house in Henley Street, Stratford-upon-Avon, now known as Shakespeare’s Birthplace. Mary had eight children, but only six survived infancy. John gave the town loyal service, rising through the ranks from the relatively humble role of ale-taster to become alderman and, in 1568, bailiff (or mayor.) His application for a coat of arms was unsuccessful in 1576, but he was granted one 20 years later, when he was said to be worth £500 – a sum not to be sneezed at. He died in 1601. In 1594 John’s eldest son, William, had become a shareholder in the troupe of players called the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, based in London. Three years later William demonstrated his commitment to his home town of Stratford by buying New Place, the largest house in the borough. Shakespeare’s marriage to Anne Hathaway In 1582, at the age of 18, Shakespeare married 26-year-old Anne Hathaway (also known as Agnes), who was already around three months pregnant with their daughter Susanna. The Hathaways – tenant farmers with 90 acres of land in the nearby village of Shottery – were acquaintances of the Shakespeares, and William may have met Anne while helping with the local harvest. To ensure the pregnancy didn’t cause a scandal, Shakespeare had to apply to the Bishop’s Court in Worcester for permission to hold a wedding at short notice. Between 1570 and 1630 the records show that only three men in Stratford-upon-Avon were married below the age of 20 (the average age to marry was 26). Shakespeare was the only one of those whose wife was already pregnant. William and Anne also had three children, an elder daughter, Susanna and twins Judith and Hamnet. Shakespeare's family at New Place New Place in Stratford was demolished in the 18th century but archaeological excavations carried out under the auspices of the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust have added to our knowledge about the size and layout of the property. It had five gables, a courtyard, three floors, and between 20 and 30 rooms – more than enough to accommodate the entire extended family, if necessary. Indeed, Thomas Greene, Town Clerk from 1603 to 1617 and a member of the Middle Temple, who described himself as William’s cousin – the word could be flexibly used – lodged there with his family. There would also have been ample space for William’s unmarried brothers, Richard, Gilbert and Edmund, of whom little is known. We do know that Edmund, 16 years younger than William, became an actor in London like his brother, had a bastard child, and died when he was only 27. He was buried in what is now Southwark Cathedral on the last day of 1607 to the sound of the ‘great bell’ – the tolling of which cost someone, probably William, £1. Gilbert, who witnessed the deed of purchase for New Place in William’s absence, worked at one time as a haberdasher in London. Of Richard we know only that he was baptised in Stratford on 11 March 1574 and buried there on 4 February 1613. William’s sister Joan, born in 1569, married a hatter, William Hart, some time before 1600. They had four children: William, Mary, Thomas and Michael. Joan’s husband died in 1616 only a week before his famous brother-in-law, who left Joan life tenancy of part of the Henley Street house, along with £20 and “all his wearing apparel”. She lived there until her death in 1646 when the house, along with the adjoining dwelling, passed to her son Thomas, and then to his son, another Thomas, by the will of Shakespeare’s granddaughter, Lady Elizabeth Barnard. The property, identified as the Birthplace on the earliest surviving map of the town (dated 1759), remained in the family till 1806. The line continued; John Shakespeare Hart, a chair-maker, was buried in Tewkesbury Abbey in 1800 with a memorial that mistakenly described him as “the sixth descendant from the poet Shakespeare”. Subsequent family members emigrated to Australia. When Shakespeare died in 1616, the bulk of Shakespeare’s estate went to his daughter, Susanna, who, with her husband John Hall, moved into New Place while Anne was still there. Anne lived at New Place for another seven years until her death in 1623. What happened to William Shakespeare's children? Shakespeare's only son, Hamnet – the name a variant of Hamlet – died in 1596, aged only 11. Presumably, like his father, he had been a pupil at the free grammar school, though its records from this period don’t survive. Susanna, born six months after her parents married, seems to have been an accomplished woman with a mind of her own. She was reported to the Ecclesiastical Court for refusing to take communion at Easter 1606 when, in the aftermath of the Gunpowder Plot, the authorities were especially anxious to round up possible Roman Catholic sympathisers. The case was dismissed. The following year she married the strongly Protestant physician John Hall, and her father gave her the substantial gift of 107 acres of land in Old Stratford as a marriage settlement, while apparently retaining a life interest. In 1613 her marriage was afflicted by scandal when one John Lane claimed that Susanna had caught a sexually transmitted infection from a married hatter and haberdasher named Ralph Smith. She successfully sued Lane for defamation of character in Worcester Consistory Court. Lane, who did not turn up to defend himself, was excommunicated. These events are dramatised in Peter Whelan’s successful play The Herbal Bed (1996). The Halls are believed to have lived in the large and handsome house on the outskirts of the town now known as Hall’s Croft, which dates from 1613 and may have been built for them; when Shakespeare died in 1616 they moved into New Place. Shakespeare left most of his property to Susanna and appointed the Halls as his executors. Susanna lived until 1649. Her epitaph reads “Witty” – that is, intelligent – “beyond her sex, but that’s not all, / Wise to salvation was good Mistress Hall.” In this period, education for girls lagged far behind that for boys, but there were petty schools in the town where both boys and girls could learn to read, write and do their sums. Susanna’s signature survives in the records of the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust. Shakespeare’s younger daughter, Judith, seems to have been a bit of a handful. At the age of 31, less than two months before her father died, she married Thomas Quiney, son of a prominent townsman, in Holy Trinity Church – but was excommunicated because they had not obtained the special licence required for marriage in Lent. There was reason to marry in a hurry: soon afterwards Quiney was accused of “incontinence” with Margaret Wheeler, who had been buried with their illegitimate child. He pleaded guilty. Shakespeare made changes to his will seemingly designed to protect Judith’s interests. She and Thomas went on to have three sons, all of whom died young; they called the eldest, born soon after his grandfather died, Shakespeare. Judith lived until 1662. Shakespeare’s last direct descendant was Elizabeth, born to Susanna and John Hall in 1608. He left her most of his silver plate (easily convertible into cash if she wished). She married Thomas Nash and they lived in New Place. After he died she married John Barnard, a prosperous widower with several children, in 1649. When her mother died soon afterwards the couple moved into New Place. A staunch Royalist, Barnard was made a baronet in 1661. Later they moved back into his ancestral home, Abington Manor in Northamptonshire, an even more splendid house than New Place, where Elizabeth died childless in 1670. So a family story that began in a modest farmhouse ended with Shakespeare’s granddaughter in a great manor house. What would Mary Arden have made of that? Does Shakespeare have any living descendants? Shakespeare has no direct living descendants, but there are still descendants of his sister Joan and her husband William Hart. His childhood home on Henley Street in Stratford remains in the care of the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust. Stanley Wells is a leading authority on Shakespeare. He is honorary president of The Shakespeare Birthplace Trust and professor emeritus at the University of Birmingham
Prophetesses & she-preachers of the 17th century
Naomi Baker reveals how religious conviction drove women to take on influential public roles in the 17th century
A prophetess who warned Oliver Cromwell against killing the king. A Yorkshire maidservant who gained an audience with the Ottoman Sultan. The religious tumult of the 17th century gave ordinary women opportunities to have their voices heard more than ever before. Speaking to Ellie Cawthorne, Dr Naomi Baker looks at several of these radical religious women, who she profiles in her book Voices of Thunder. Naomi Baker is the author of Voices of Thunder: Radical Religious Women of the Seventeenth Century (Reaktion, 2025). Buy it now from Waterstones
Over 70 observers watched this Stuart queen give birth. Why did they still doubt the baby was real?
The struggle between Catholicism and Protestantism came to a head in England when Maria of Modena gave birth to an heir with a claim to two crowns
On 10 June 1688, Maria of Modena, queen to King James II of England and VII of Scotland, gave birth to a son who was heir to both kingdoms. More than 70 observers watched it happen. But while that baby – James Francis Edward Stuart, would grow to adulthood – he would never wear either crown. Instead, scurrilous questions about the birth itself played a pivotal role in the eventual toppling of James’s rule in England. Speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast, Breeze Barrington, a cultural historian specialising in women’s history and the 17th century, explained why Maria of Modena’s labour was so closely witnessed and how it became key in ending her husband’s reign. The pressure was on Maria to produce an heir The most important job of a queen was to produce heirs. But there was extra political and religious pressure for Maria to give birth. Maria and James were Catholic, and they needed to produce a Catholic heir if they wanted to keep the ruling of England out of Protestant hands. Otherwise, the throne would go to Mary, James’ oldest legitimate child from his previous marriage, who had been brought up Protestant. Protestant factions at the English court, and in government, hoped that Maria wouldn’t have any sons who could prevent Mary from claiming the throne. “There was constant worry about England going back to Catholicism if there was a Catholic heir,” Barrington says. Read more | Your guide to the Glorious Revolution Maria had been pregnant many times before 1688, but many of those had ended in miscarriage or stillbirth; the few that survived died in infancy. “Maria was really concerned that she needed to have a son in order to secure the line of succession, so she went to Bath to take the waters in the hope that it would help her to become pregnant,” Barrington says. The reproductive health of the queen was in the interest of the nation, and so even Maria’s attempts to improve her fertility were of public concern. Members of the public went to watch her sitting in the waters at Bath from the balconies in August 1687. By December of the same year, Maria was pregnant. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/01/GettyImages-113494156-4056867-e1768555127208.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This later portrait depicts James II and VII (1633–1701), whose reign was defined by religious tension and political crisis. His marriage to the Catholic princess Maria of Modena proved pivotal: the birth of their son in 1688 raised the prospect of a Catholic dynasty and helped trigger the Glorious Revolution, forcing James and Maria into exile and ending his rule." title="James II and VII (1633 - 1701)." /> People questioned whether Maria was really pregnant “Almost straight away, there were whispers that this wasn't true, or that there was something wrong,” Barrington says. People questioned that she could get pregnant at her age (she was 29), after so many years of difficult pregnancies, and even whether any of her previous pregnancies and miscarriages had been real. She was constantly observed, scrutinised, and assessed during the pregnancy. “Understandably, it's extremely upsetting and distressing when you're heavily pregnant and everyone just wants to gawp at you,” Barrington says. “So she refuses to let lots of people see her when she's changing. At this time, it was quite normal for lots of members of the court to be there in the morning when she was getting up, for what was called ‘levée’ [a formal royal morning reception] and she tried to make this more private.” But this only fuelled rumours that the pregnancy was fake. “These foundations had already been laid. The rumours were already there that there was going to be an attempt to smuggle a different child in,” Barrington says. Read more | A king without a crown: James VII and II’s years in exile Any doubt about the legitimacy of an heir could help to fuel plots against their rule – and because of this it was usual for royal births to be observed. And because of the rumours and political tension, Maria’s labour was witnessed by an unusually high number of people – more than 70 people gave testimonies that they saw it happen, which James later published in a book of depositions. “By the time she goes into labour, the room is filled up. There is something like 80 people there, most of them men, being herded to the end of the bed to have a good look,” Barrington says. If that sounds horribly intrusive, it’s because it was. “Maria says to James, ‘I can't bear to do this with so many men looking at me.’ And he covers her face with his wig so that she can't see them,” Barrington says. When James Francis Edward Stuart was born, he was taken to another room to be cleaned and swaddled, and James made sure people followed him there, too. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/01/GettyImages-463990175-f376b31-e1768555382384.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This portrait shows Mary of Modena (1658–1718), the Italian-born princess who became queen consort of James II after their marriage in 1673. A devout Catholic, her presence at court — and the birth of her son in 1688 — intensified fears of a Catholic succession, helping to spark the Glorious Revolution that ended her husband’s reign." title="Mary of Modena, Queen Consort of King James II of Great Britain.Artist: S Audran" /> 80 witnesses weren’t enough to quell suspicions But the rumours didn't end just because people saw the birth. A new rumour started to circulate at court: that the baby had been stillborn and switched out for a baby smuggled in a bedpan brought in to heat the bed. “There were witnesses that said they'd seen the pan full of hot coals, and a bedpan isn't anything like big enough to put a baby in anyway,” Barrington says. Nonetheless, it took root. Historians today do generally agree that James Francis Edward was the legitimate child. But at the time, there were multiple reasons it was believed he was an imposter. Firstly, James’s choices of witnesses weren't the most astute. Most of the people who saw the birth were Catholics or otherwise sympathetic to their cause, so it was in their interest to say that he was legitimate whether it was true or not. Secondly, the new heir posed a threat to Protestantism. The majority of people in England were Protestant and viewed James VII and II as a brief Catholic blip in the line of succession – as long as he didn’t have any Catholic sons. Read more | When was England last successfully invaded by a foreign power? But the birth of James Francis Edward changed this. Now there was both motivation for pro-Protestant factions to take action – to stop the cementing of a Catholic dynasty – and a reason why. “The rumour is the pretext for seven politicians and aristocrats to send a letter over to William of Orange, inviting him to invade England and to usurp James from the throne,” Barrington says. Not only was William of Orange James’ nephew, but he was also married to the king’s daughter, Mary. Most importantly, they were both Protestant. And so invade William did, landing in England on 5 November 1688. James fled to France, which Parliament interpreted as him abdicating, and William and Mary were declared joint rulers. “So, it is the birth of this longed-for boy,” Barrington says, “who they had so hoped for, who they thought would cement their future, who would fulfil Maria’s obligations to the Pope, which is their downfall.” James Francis Edward Stuart spent most of his life in exile and became known to his supporters as the Old Pretender, the focus of repeated but ultimately unsuccessful Jacobite attempts to reclaim the throne. Breeze Barrington was speaking to Elinor Evans on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
In post-medieval Scotland, two specific crimes reveal the challenges faced by ordinary women
What do the crimes that women were charged with in a post-medieval Scotland reveal about the lives they lived?
In the court records of post-medieval Scotland, women appear for a strikingly limited range of crimes. While men were prosecuted for theft, violence and disorder, women were charged with offences that spoke directly to their bodies and behaviour. As Dr Allan Kennedy, a historian of early modern Scottish history, explains on an episode of the HistoryExtra podcast, “understanding what kinds of crimes are committed and how they are responded to gives you a really good understanding of the ordering assumptions of any given society”. In early modern Scotland, those assumptions produced a sharp gender divide in the law. “There’s a very strong split between what women were being prosecuted for and what men were being prosecuted for” in Scottish courts, Kennedy says. Women were accused overwhelmingly of two crimes: witchcraft and infanticide. Both were profoundly gendered offences, shaped by contemporary anxieties about women’s morality and place within the social order. And, both crimes expose the pressures faced by ordinary women in Scotland as the country stepped into the early modern era, and the reign of the Stuarts. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/01/GettyImages-463928361-1-1ef1f6e-e1768479587395.jpg" width="1498" height="1000" alt="Painted in 1621 by Daniel Mytens, this portrait shows James VI and I (1566–1625), a monarch deeply preoccupied with the threat of witchcraft. Convinced that witches were agents of the Devil, James personally oversaw trials in Scotland and authored 'Daemonologie' (1597), a treatise that fuelled persecution across Britain." title="James I, King of England and Scotland, 1621. Artist: Daniel Mytens" /> Witchcraft in early modern Scotaland One of the most common crime committed by women in 1600s Scotland was witchcraft. Between 1560 and 1706, approximately 6,000 people were tried for the crime in Scotland – three times the number tried in England, even though Scotland’s population was a quarter of the size of England’s. The witchcraft craze was encouraged by King James VI and I, Elizabeth I's successor, who set up royal commissions to hunt witches. He also wrote a book about black magic, called Dæmonologie, which was inspired by his involvement in the infamous North Berwick witch trials of 1590. Read more | Tracy Borman explains why King James VI and I was obsessed with witch hunts The majority of people accused of witchcraft were women; estimates say between 75 to 84 per cent. They were accused of renouncing God and their Christian faith, and using powers received from the devil to cause harm – that could be anything from blighting crops and causing storms, to making their neighbours ill. Many of the women accused had acted in a way that disrupted the established social order and gender – behaviours that went against the meek, subservient role expected of women at the time. Witchcraft was suspected as the reason why they were so deviant. Some historians also link the trend to the changing relationship between religion and government. “Scotland had a distinctive reformation in 1559, producing a Calvinist church, which is quite an austere form of Protestantism – much more rigid than the Anglicanism of the Church of England – and a very dense system of church courts,” Kennedy says. “What that means is that religion was very central to pretty much every aspect of Scottish life, and importantly, Scottish governance and administration – much more so compared to England.” Read more | James VI and I and his favourites: what were their relationships like? This could explain why witchcraft, which was a renunciation of Christianity, was seen as so threatening in Scotland at the time, compared to England. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/01/GettyImages-924761818-b2bfc16-e1768479906280.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This mid-16th-century German engraving depicts the ordeal of water, a brutal method used to test suspected witches. Thrown into a river, the accused was judged innocent if she drowned and guilty if she floated — a reflection of how religious belief shaped the persecution of alleged witches in early modern Europe." title="Witch Hunting" /> By the end of the 17th century, a hundred years after the publication of Dæmonologie, the bulk of the Scottish witch hunts were over, and there weren't as many women being accused of witchcraft as there were earlier in the 1600s. Now, the most common crime among women was infanticide. The crime of infanticide Infanticide today is understood as the intentional killing of a child. But in Scotland in the late 17th century, the definition was more expansive. “A law passed by the Scottish Parliament in 1690 made it so that if a woman concealed a pregnancy and the child later died, then it will be assumed in law that she murdered the child, even if there's no hard evidence that she actually did,” Kennedy says. “So, in other words, if you had a stillborn child but you had concealed the pregnancy, the law would assume that you murdered the child.” The practical effect of this law was that there was an upsurge in the number of women prosecuted for infanticide in the 1690s, Kennedy says. “There were a few older women who were prosecuted for having assisted in the murder of a child, such as elderly midwives or elderly relatives,” Kennedy says. Read more | 10 things you (probably) didn’t know about Scottish history But the majority of the people accused of infanticide were younger women, usually of a lower social status – like farm workers or domestic servants – who actually bore the children. “Very often the father of the child was their master or a family member of the master,” Kennedy says. “It's implied in a lot of these cases, and sometimes more than implied, that the father of the child attacked the woman and committed sexual assault, leaving her with a child who was going to be illegitimate.” In 17th century Scotland, there was a hugely significant social stigma against illegitimacy. “Often, it was said explicitly in women's confessions that if they concealed their pregnancy and murdered the child, they did so because they couldn't bear the shame or the very significant practical and reputational ramifications that come with having an illegitimate child,” Kennedy says. Meanwhile, the men who fathered these children seldom faced any consequences because they didn’t bear the children. “This tells us some very important things about the particular constraints and social pressures that women were forced to deal with – not just the women who are caught up in the courts, but just women generally,” Kennedy says. Dr Allan Kennedy was speaking to Emily Briffett on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
Historian Clare Jackson offers a compelling take on the much-maligned James VI & I as a central, yet overlooked figure in British history
Historian Clare Jackson delves into the life and reputation of James VI & I – a king who, says Jackson, has a legacy that has been much refracted and maligned in the 400 years since his death. In her reappraisal of the king's life, she considers the violence that beset James throughout his life, and how that shaped the king's attitudes towards diplomacy, learning and religion. Speaking to Elinor Evans, Jackson brings James's reputation up to date – and shares her pick for the king's perfect dinner companion.
Rebecca Rideal and Jonathan Healey uncover the dramatic events that led to the execution of Charles I
On 30 January 1649, Charles I was led on to a freshly erected scaffold outside Whitehall’s Banqueting House in London. Thousands of spectators watched in shock and awe as the king of England, Scotland and Ireland was executed as a traitor. It was the climax of one of the most destructive sagas in Britain and Ireland's history – but what led to this brutal outcome? Was conflict inevitable? HistoryExtra's new podcast series, Uprising: The Civil Wars, produced by HistFest, sees historian Rebecca Rideal chart this extraordinary story, from the first battles in Scotland to all out-war in England and Wales. Speaking to historical experts, she explores a story of shifting loyalties and devastating conflict. In this special bonus episode, Rebecca and one of those experts, Dr Jonathan Healey, spoke to Emily Briffett about why this era of history is so fascinating, and the causes and consequences of the conflict.
How do you cope with living in a century of chaos? By learning how to predict the future
Explore how modern Britons sought signs of divine order in a collapsing world – from searching snails’ shells to eating moles’ hearts
Seventeenth-century Britain was gripped by chronic instability. Over the course of the century, religious tensions pulled the country’s civilians apart; civil war raged across England, Scotland and Ireland while kings were executed and governments toppled. “This is a particularly chaotic period of history,” says Dr Martha McGill, speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast. “[As well as] periods of civil warfare, you’ve got outbreaks of plague, you’ve got famine. “There are an awful lot of uncertainties to life. People died unexpectedly and their children died young, very commonly. Faced with all of these challenges, people look for reassurance.” Many found comfort in prayer and scripture. But some instead turned to prophecy and divination. While this might seem to have echoes of witchcraft to our modern minds, trying to read the future wasn’t necessarily blasphemous in the early modern period. Instead, it was understood as an attempt to glimpse God’s plan. Read more | The murderous history of Bible translations But how, exactly, did these early modern Britons try to see the future? What methods did they use? And why did they believe those methods worked? The rise of prophecy and popular astrology The 17th century saw an explosion of printed almanacs and prophetic guides. Astrology offered ordinary people a structured way to interpret uncertainty, and a means of predicting everything from the outcomes of harvests to broader political events. Among the most famous of the figures leading these emerging practices was William Lilly, an astrologer whose annual Merlinus Anglicus almanacs sold in the tens of thousands. During the English Civil War, Lilly became notorious for predicting political upheavals, including ominous ‘fiery visitations’ that many later linked to the Great Fire of London. Read more | Elizabeth I’s shadowy spy network was tasked with uncovering secret conspiracies. Here’s what it found Others wrote competing almanacs and despite initially drawing the ire of church leaders and intellectuals, they proved immensely popular. Such prophecies provided a sense that a pre-ordained fate, rather than chaos, governed the world. But this was all part of an evolving Christian lens. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/GettyImages-804449166-e3c1e4f-e1763482070277.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This portrait of William Lilly (1602–1681), reproduced in the late 19th century from his Christian Astrology, shows the astrologer whose reputation soared — and soured — after the Great Fire of London. Accused of having predicted the blaze 14 years earlier, Lilly was even questioned as a possible arsonist, though he was cleared." title="William Lilly English Astrologer 1647 (Late 19th Century)" /> The search for signs The Protestant Reformation had stripped away many rituals of the medieval Church, leaving a spiritual vacuum that people filled with other methods of finding meaning. “People look for some kind of guidance,” McGill explains, “some way of seeing, ‘Well, is it a good idea to get on this ship and go try and seek my fortune on it?’” And for many, fortune-telling deepened their connection to Christianity, rather than conflicting with their fate. “Many practices relied on the belief that God has made a plan for the universe, and that is writ everywhere in the natural world,” McGill explains. “The elements reflect His will in some respect.” That conviction transformed the natural world into a language that could be read to uncover the future. People watched how nutshells burned in the fire, or how oil floated on water, or how smoke rose from a hearth. Each offered signs for what the future might hold. Prophecies from snails, moles and wolves Animals, God’s living creations, also offered keen clues. “You could search in a snail’s shell very carefully,” McGill says, “and if you were lucky, you might find a little purple stone that supposedly lived within the body of snails. If you then placed that stone under your tongue, you might be able to prophesise and tell of future things.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/11/GettyImages-152204469-0d9c7eb-e1763482194797.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Engraved with interlocking stars and mystical symbols, the Sigillum Dei — the “Seal of God” — was used by the Elizabethan mathematician and occult philosopher John Dee (1527–1608). Dee placed this seal beneath one of his crystal “shew stones,” the reflective objects through which he and his scryer attempted to communicate with angels during their esoteric experiments." title="Engraved with concentric star shapes and other designs, the Seal of God (Sigillum Dei) was used by the Elizabethan mathematician, magician and astrologer John Dee (1527 1608)" /> Others resorted to darker – and bloodier – rites. “You could try getting a mole, cutting it open, and eating its heart while it’s still palpitating,” McGill continues. “This is thought to give you insight into the future.” Other methods included sleeping with a wolf’s tooth under one’s pillow, inhaling vapours of violet or linseed, or burning the blood of a dove. These all were said to be ways of reading God’s natural language, summoning visions or revealing hidden truths. Read more | What was the Reformation? In practice, looking to the future was at the edge of a fraught moral frontier. In the Christian context of the early modern period, interpreting God’s signs in nature was acceptable, but conjuring spirits or invoking magic wasn’t. But where that line was drawn in practice was unclear. England’s witch trials of the late 1500s and 1600s often drew on the same fears that surrounded fortune-telling, homing in on the idea that someone might possess secret, forbidden knowledge. For McGill, these customs reveal how ordinary people in a violent century sought to make sense of their world, with the promise of foresight (however tenuous) providing some measure of control. Dr Martha McGill was speaking to Ellie Cawthorne on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.