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Think you know everything about the Tudors? Here's 15 facts that will prove you wrong
Tracy Borman shares a selection of surprising insights into England’s most famous royal dynasty – from Mary I’s love of gambling to the truth about Henry VIII’s extramarital affairs
1. The Tudors weren’t known as the Tudors Although we use ‘Tudor’ as a nifty shorthand for both the era and the dynasty, it wasn’t used at the time either by the monarchs or their people. Neither did they see it as a distinct period: in fact, Henry VII went to great lengths to emphasise the continuity with his royal predecessors, even down to using the same tailor whom Edward IV had employed. He also emphasised his Lancastrian roots and tried to downplay his Welsh origins, aware that his grandfather Owen Tudor had married well above him when he bagged Henry V’s widow Catherine of Valois as a bride. Throughout the period 1485–1603, the people identified as subjects of each successive king or queen, as well as taking pride in their local affiliations, rather than seeing themselves as ‘Tudor people’. 2. They had a pretty dodgy claim to the throne When Henry Tudor won the crown from Richard III at the battle of Bosworth in 1485, he was quick to stress his legitimacy. But there was more than a hint of protesting too much. In fact, the Tudors were descended from Edward III’s fourth son, John of Gaunt, and his long-standing mistress, Katherine Swynford. Moreover, Henry VII’s father Edmund was the child of Henry V’s widow, Catherine of Valois, by her Welsh attendant. With such a dubious bloodline, it’s little wonder that England’s first Tudor king wasted no time in marrying Elizabeth of York, the eldest child of Edward IV. Their marriage united the warring houses of York and Lancaster and, crucially, gave the Tudors some much-needed legitimacy. 3. Henry VII was no miser The first Tudor king has a reputation for penny-pinching. But while he kept a close eye on his expenditure, he knew how to splash the cash when it was to his advantage. In the early years of his reign, when he was under constant threat from rivals and pretenders and many of his subjects questioned his right to be king, he spent lavish sums on dressing the part. Just over a week after defeating Richard III at Bosworth, he ordered a set of new gowns fashioned from cloth of gold, satin and royal purple velvet at a cost of £336, which roughly equates to £225,000 in today’s money. During the two years that followed, he spent an eye-watering £5,386 (£3.6 million) on his wardrobe. But his generosity had its limits. His wife, Elizabeth of York, struggled to make ends meet throughout their marriage. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/3-GettyImages-173317469-b1ae837-e1775575599556.jpg" width="619" height="413" alt="A painted portrait of Henry VII wearing a red fur‑trimmed robe and cap, holding a gold sceptre against a plain background" title="A 19th-century depiction of Henry VII. The first Tudor monarch spent vast sums of money on looking the part when he was newly crowned (Image by Getty Images)" /> 4. You would smell Henry VIII before you saw him For the last 20 years of his life, Henry was tormented by pain from a chronic leg ulcer, which was aggravated by a serious fall from his horse while jousting in 1536. The ulcer often became inflamed and – unsurprisingly – Henry was a difficult patient, refusing to rest for long enough for it to heal. At its worst, the suppurating wound could be smelt from three rooms away. Read more | Was this the moment Henry VIII became a tyrant? 5. Henry VIII’s love of hawking was almost the death of him Henry’s love of sport was well known throughout the court. As a young king, he would spend hours hunting, jousting, shooting arrows and playing tennis. Hawking was another of his favourite sports and his private apartments contained an impressive array of falconry equipment. But in 1525, Henry was almost killed while pursuing his hawk. Attempting to pole vault over a ditch, instead he fell headfirst into it and almost drowned. Thankfully, his quick-thinking footman, Edmund Moody, managed to pull him out in the nick of time. 6. Henry VIII was a bit of a prude Contrary to popular belief, Tudor England’s most-married monarch wasn’t much of a lothario. In fact, he had twice as many wives as mistresses. There is only evidence of three extramarital affairs. The women involved were Bessie Blount (the mother of Henry’s not-so-subtly-named illegitimate son, Henry Fitzroy), Mary Boleyn (sister of his second wife Anne) and ‘Mistress Shelton’, who was either Margaret or Mary Shelton, both cousins of Anne Boleyn. Although there was a rumour that he once had an affair with Anne’s mother Elizabeth, he stoutly denied it: “Never with the mother!” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/6-2F1GM47-eea3c47-e1775575675952.jpg" width="1500" height="1486" alt="A painted portrait of a teenage boy in a light garment and patterned head covering, shown against a deep blue background with gold lettering identifying him as Henry, Duke of Richmond, aged fifteen." title="Henry Fitzroy, the illegitimate son of Henry VIII from his affair with Bessie Blount. For a king – especially one who married six times – Henry was surprisingly prudish (Image by Alamy)" /> 7. Anne Boleyn did not have a sixth finger on one hand This oft-repeated tale is based on scurrilous gossip written almost 50 years after Anne’s death. A host of hostile Catholic tracts about Anne appeared in the 1580s as part of a smear campaign against her ‘heretic’ daughter, Elizabeth I. Nicholas Sander was one of the most influential and claimed that Anne had been Henry VIII’s daughter as well as his wife, the result of his clandestine affair with her mother. Feeding on the rumours of witchcraft that had circulated at the time of Anne’s demise, he asserted that she had a sixth finger on her right hand and a large ‘wen’ (a boil or mole) under her chin. Such blemishes were commonly thought to be the ‘Devil’s Mark’ – a symbol of having made a pact with Satan. In fact, Anne was proud of her long, slender fingers and always took care to show them off to best effect… all 10 of them. 8. Anne of Cleves was not ugly You may have heard the story: Henry VIII fell in love with Anne of Cleves’ portrait and immediately signed on the dotted line of the marriage contract. But when he met his bride in person, he was appalled that she was nothing like her profile picture. So, he had the marriage annulled before you could say ‘off with her head’. In fact, Holbein’s portrait was faithful to Anne, and many contemporary accounts praise her beauty. If anyone had cause for complaint about their betrothed’s physical assets, it was Anne. Henry was no oil painting by the time she married him in January 1540. Pushing 50, he was bloated, ulcer-ridden and almost certainly impotent. It was with understandable haste that Anne agreed to an annulment just six months later. Read more | Why did Henry VIII send Anne Boleyn to the block? <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/8-AnnedeCleves-3a7323a-e1775635785574.jpg" width="1498" height="1000" alt="A Renaissance portrait of a richly dressed figure in a red‑and‑gold embroidered gown with ornate jewellery and a jeweled headpiece, standing against a blue background with hands clasped to show rings and lace cuffs." title="The famous Anne of Cleves portrait by Hans Holbein the Younger, 1539. Contrary to popular belief, Anne was not ugly; in fact, she was praised for her beauty" /> 9. Edward VI kept a diary The boy king was the only Tudor monarch to leave behind a private journal. But if you’re expecting a tell-all exposé full of secretly expressed desires, grudges and hopes, you might be disappointed. In fact, it’s a rather dry summary of the events of his reign. Even the execution of his once-cherished uncle is afforded only the following curt line: “The Duke of Somerset had his head cut off today.” Overall, the diary reveals a boy who was precociously intelligent, as might be expected for Henry VIII’s “precious jewel”, who had the best of everything growing up. But he also appears cold, unfeeling and uncompromising – a dangerous blend of traits that might have made him an even greater tyrant than his father if he lived to maturity. 10. Lady Jane Grey was queen for 14 days, not nine Jane has gone down in history as the ‘Nine Days’ Queen’. But while it’s true that she was proclaimed queen on 10 July 1553 and deposed by Mary Tudor on 19 July, her reign technically began as soon as Edward VI had breathed his last on 6 July. On his deathbed, Edward changed the succession in favour of his Protestant cousin Jane to prevent his Catholic half-sister Mary claiming her right. He was heavily influenced by John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, who had married his son Guildford to Jane. Even so, Edward’s ‘Device’ for the succession was legally-binding, so Jane was the rightful queen as soon as the young king died. Yet she is always referred to as ‘Lady’ rather than ‘Queen’ and is often omitted from the roll call of English monarchs altogether. That owes much to Mary Tudor’s propaganda: to seize the throne, she had to present Jane as a usurper. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/10-GettyImages-2226518693-829fe72-e1775636087938.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A woman in Tudor dress stands against a plain backdrop, wearing a velvet gown with puffed sleeves, gold embroidery, and multiple strands of pearls. She has a pearl‑lined headdress framing her centre‑parted hair and holds a small ornament or flower in one hand." title="Despite being known as the ‘Nine Days’ Queen’, Lady Jane Grey actually ruled for 14 days (Image by Getty Images)" /> 11. ‘Bloody Mary’ wasn’t all that bloody Mary I’s obsession with returning England to the Roman Catholic faith spurred her to have around 300 Protestant heretics burned at the stake. But while there is no doubting the horrific nature of their deaths, Mary acted out of conscience rather than brutality. Blinded by her own faith, she genuinely believed that she was saving her subjects from eternal damnation by bringing them into the Roman Catholic fold. Furthermore, the number of people who died on Mary’s orders was just a fraction of those who suffered at the hands of her far bloodier father, Henry VIII. He sent more men and women to their deaths than any other Tudor monarch. Anyone who refused to fall in with his will was sent to the block – commoners, statesmen and wives alike. It even became a crime to think differently from the king. Contemporary records are patchy and inconsistent, so it’s impossible to quantify exactly how many deaths Henry was responsible for. Estimates vary from a few thousand to as many as 72,000. 12. Mary Tudor was a bit of a party girl Despite her reputation for sober-mindedness and piety, Mary loved to have fun. One of her favourite companions was Jane Fool, a female jester. The queen was also an avid gambler and loved to play cards and board games. She also entertained lavishly and spent huge sums on feasting and drinking. A scandalised Spanish ambassador reported: “There is plenty of beer here, and they drink more than would fill the Valladolid river [known as the Pisuerga river today]… The ladies and gentlemen put sugar in their wine, with the result that there are great goings on in the palace.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/12-GettyImages-1309904166-9ab877f-e1775636163844.jpg" width="1498" height="1000" alt="Seven people in Renaissance dress gather around a table playing cards. Gold coins lie across the dark tablecloth, and one player holds up the seven of hearts while another displays several cards. Shelves with bottles and a small vase of flowers sit in the background." title="The Card Players, c1550–99. Mary I was an avid gambler, who loved to play cards and host lavish parties throughout her reign (Image by Getty Images)" /> Read more | Queens of bling: the importance of jewellery to Henry VIII's six wives 13. Elizabeth I employed the original James Bond The queen’s personal astrologer Dr John Dee was one of her closest advisers. She would regularly consult him about the most apposite moment to undertake key events, such as her coronation. An astrologer, astronomer, mathematician and philosopher, Dee was one of the most learned men of the age. But he also carried out more covert assignments for his royal mistress. She employed Dee as a spy, and he would report on intrigues abroad using complex codes. He signed his letters with the numerals ‘007’. 14. Elizabeth I was (apparently) a man The ‘Bisley Boy’ legend states that in 1542, the future Elizabeth I (then aged around nine) was sent to Overcourt House in the Cotswold village of Bisley to escape the plague in London. Whilst there, she sickened with a fever and died. Knowing that Henry VIII was on his way to visit his daughter, her panic-stricken governess searched the village in vain for a girl who resembled Elizabeth closely enough to fool the king. The only child of the right age and colouring was a boy, so in desperation she dressed him in the princess’s clothes and the deception was complete. This unlikely tale dates from the 1800s and was made popular by Dracula author Bram Stoker in his book Famous Impostors. There is no contemporary evidence to support it and more than a whiff of misogyny about the whole thing. How else could Elizabeth have ruled so successfully for so many years? She must have been a man. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/04/Bram-Stoker-famous-Imposters-ABE-Books-6975c56-e1775636264617.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="An open book rests on a wooden surface. The left page shows a black‑and‑white illustration captioned “Elizabeth as a Young Woman.” The right page is the title page of Bram Stoker’s Famous Impostors, published in 1910 by Sturgis & Walton." title="A copy of Bram Stoker’s 1910 book Famous Impostors. The tome helped popularise the ‘Bisley Boy’ legend, suggesting that Elizabeth I was actually a man (Image by Best of Books Store)" /> 15. Elizabeth I didn’t leave her throne to James VI But as she lay dying at Richmond Palace in March 1603, she finally settled the matter, gasping that she would have none but “my nearest kinsman the King of Scots”. This deathbed scene was recorded by the contemporary historian William Camden, who had been commissioned to write a biography of the celebrated queen during her lifetime. But dramatic new research by the British Library has proved that Camden was forced to rewrite it on the orders of the new king to make his accession look more predetermined than it had been. Using transmitted light, the researchers found that in his original manuscript, written at the time of Elizabeth’s death, Camden had recorded that she died without naming a successor. But a few years later, his words were covered over with the lie that ushered the Stuarts to the Tudor throne.
What did Anne Boleyn REALLY look like? Our new research could change everything
Dark or brunette? Fair or swarthy? A paragon of beauty or a refined charmer? Our picture of Henry VIII’s ill-fated second queen has become distorted over five centuries – but new research by Owen Emmerson and others comes closer to revealing her true appearance
Close your eyes and picture Anne Boleyn. Chances are you can conjure up a pretty clear and detailed image in your imagination – because few figures in English history seem as visually familiar as Henry VIII’s second queen. Representations of her face appear everywhere: in films, television dramas and novels, in museum gift shops and digital reconstructions. She is often depicted in popular culture as an elegant brunette whose sophistication distinguishes her from others at court. Over time, this image has hardened into something close to fact. Anne Boleyn, we are told, was devastatingly beautiful. Yet this certainty is built on fragile foundations, and surviving evidence provides a less concrete understanding of Anne’s appearance. No formal painted portraits from life survive today, though images in a number of smaller, more intimate formats – particularly miniatures – are candidates for having captured her true likeness based on contemporary encounters. The more-familiar portraits featuring the now-iconic ‘B’ pendant necklace, meanwhile, were likely created decades later, influenced by politics, artistic convention and hindsight. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/DXFXNM-38bec64-e1773309603951.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A woman with long dark braids, wearing a white period-style gown, sits on a cushioned bed and gently holds a baby wrapped in richly patterned blue and gold fabric. Dark wooden furniture and white bedding frame the intimate, historical-feeling scene" title="Natalie Dormer played Anne Boleyn in the television series The Tudors, which perpetuated modern ideas of the ill-fated queen as a dark-haired beauty (Image by Alamy)" /> For generations, historians assumed that any accurate representations created during Anne’s life had been lost altogether, erased after her execution in 1536 on the orders of Henry VIII. That story is compelling, but it is wrong. My research – which underpins Capturing a Queen: The Image of Anne Boleyn, a new exhibition at Anne’s childhood home, Hever Castle – suggests that her true likeness remained visible long after her dramatic death. Her image circulated widely in several different forms: in print, on medals and in drawings that outlived her. Alongside written descriptions left by those who saw her, these sources allow us to come close to understanding how Anne Boleyn looked. They also prompt a more revealing question: during her lifetime, was Anne admired for beauty – at least, as the 16th century understood it? And how much did beauty really matter in a court where power, conviction and function carried far greater weight? Ideals of beauty Today, audiences are encouraged to believe that Anne Boleyn must have been very beautiful indeed to have displaced Queen Catherine of Aragon in Henry VIII’s affections, and to have inspired him to reshape England’s religious and political landscape in order to marry her. This assumption reflects modern ideas about attraction and agency far more than it does the reality of Tudor mores. Different priorities shaped ideals of female beauty then: light colouring and complexion were widely admired. In 16th-century England, though, beauty alone rarely secured influence. At court, education, connections and presence mattered far more than looks. Intelligence, conversation and the ability to command attention in a highly performative environment were prized qualities. Anne excelled in these attributes. Read more | Anne Boleyn’s fatal French connection Anne stood out, but not because she perfectly embodied an ideal of beauty. Her continental education, her penchant for French fashions and her finely honed courtly manner set her apart in a milieu still shaped by conservative English expectations. Contemporary responses to her appearance consistently suggest moderate attractiveness rather than conventional beauty. To understand that distinction properly, we must turn to the accounts of her appearance and demeanour from people who saw her. Consistent picture Contemporary descriptions of Anne are limited but broadly consistent. Simon Grynaeus, a German humanist who visited the English court in 1531, wrote to a compatriot that she was “young, good-looking, of a rather dark complexion”. In October 1532, the Venetian ambassador Carlo Capello, in a report later recorded in Marino Sanuto’s Diarii, described her as “not one of the handsomest women in the world… of middling stature, swarthy complexion, long neck, wide mouth, bosom not much raised… and her eyes, which are black and beautiful”. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/PD1438753-1778ee6-e1773309357932.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Engraved profile portrait of a man with long hair and a full beard, wearing high‑collared, layered Renaissance garments. The image is rendered with fine linework and cross‑hatching" title="An 18th-century engraving of German scholar Simon Grynaeus who, having met Anne Boleyn, described her as “young, good-looking, of a rather dark complexion” (Image by Topfoto)" /> Lancelot de Carle, secretary to the French ambassador in London, wrote a long poetic account of Anne’s fall and execution in 1536, emphasising her expression and presence rather than physical features. Even sympathetic observers were measured: the reformist cleric John Barlow described her as “reasonably good-looking”, a phrase that in Tudor usage suggested composure and refinement rather than striking beauty. What emerges is not the image of a woman celebrated for physical perfection but of someone whose appearance was animated by intelligence and presence. Observers repeatedly returned to her eyes and manner. The French diplomat Lancelot de Carle said of her eyes that she “knew well how to use [them] with effect”, capturing a sense of engagement, wit and command that made her captivating in person. For centuries, the absence of a painted portrait from Anne’s lifetime was explained by a dramatic story: that Henry VIII ordered every likeness of her be destroyed after her execution. The image of a furious king erasing the woman for whom he had broken with Rome is powerful, but has no basis in contemporary sources. The story appeared first in the 19th century, when historians sought an explanation for Anne’s apparent visual disappearance. What happened after the queen’s fall was administrative rather than vengeful. Anne’s badges and monograms were removed from royal buildings and replaced with those of her successor, Jane Seymour, just as Catherine of Aragon’s emblems had earlier been replaced by Anne’s. The King’s Works accounts for September 1536 list payments for removing Anne’s devices alongside those of Cardinal Wolsey, the king’s former chief minister, by then long dead. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/3BDA0P2-4f33c37-e1773310304248.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Gilded wooden sculpture of a bird holding a staff. Intricate carved motifs and textured wings stand out against a red display background." title="A falcon badge from Hampton Court. This emblem of Anne Boleyn remained in place after her demise, despite claims that Henry ordered all traces of her be removed (Image by Alamy)" /> No orders to destroy Anne’s portraits have been found, and even the command to remove her emblems was carried out only partly. Many of her falcon badges remain in the roof of Hampton Court’s Great Hall, blackened with paint but intact. Moreover, inventories taken after Henry’s death show that he continued to own objects that had once belonged to Anne and were decorated with her iconography, albeit packed away in chests. Anne herself had become valueless to him, but the gold and silver fashioned into her goods had not. He did not destroy them, just ensured that they were no longer seen. The people’s prints Though no painted panel portrait survives from Anne’s lifetime, images of her certainly do. Some of the most revealing were created not for the elite interiors of palaces but for public circulation. In the summer of 1533, the prolific printer Wynkyn de Worde was employed to publish a pamphlet titled The Noble Tryumphaunt Coronacyon of Quene Anne. Its cover features a small woodcut long dismissed by historians as a generic courtly scene. However, in collaboration with historian Jessica Carey-Bunning, I have identified this as a narrative composition including three contemporary images of Anne Boleyn at distinct stages of her relationship with Henry VIII. The woodcut provides a visual sequence affirming the validity of the union. To the left, Henry courts Anne; in the centre, the couple are joined in marriage; and in the most prominent image, at the right, Henry and Anne are crowned beneath a cloth of estate, the king’s hand resting on his queen’s stomach. To a contemporary viewer, this was an explicit declaration of pregnancy. When the pamphlet was published, Anne was about six months pregnant with the child who would reign as Elizabeth I. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/BAL3286974-85c45de-e1773310578859.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A detailed black and white woodcut showing the same two figures three times over, in different positions, facing each other, standing and sitting" title="A 1533 woodcut shows three stages in the relationship between Henry and Anne, from left to right: wooing, the wedding, and a tender moment apparently signalling pregnancy (Image by Bridgeman Images)" /> This woodcut image operated as a tool of legitimacy, fertility and dynastic hope. It was intended not to capture Anne’s features but, rather, to put her face to work. It was circulated deliberately and widely at the most politically sensitive moment of her queenship. Other contemporary images reinforce this visibility. A lead prototype or proof known as the ‘Moost Happi’ medal, likely commissioned in anticipation of a male heir and struck in 1534, depicts Anne in part profile wearing a gable hood, and bears the initials AR (for Anna Regina). Edward Hawkins, keeper of antiquities at the British Museum in the 19th century, suggested that another surviving lead prototype showing Henry was a companion to Anne’s medal. My discovery of a fully cast example of the companion medal of Henry, fashioned as a hat pin in modest tin, indicates that these likenesses were destined for a wide distribution beyond the court – an effort to disseminate images of the king and his new queen. Read more | Tudors in turmoil: deciphering Hans Holbein’s masterwork The Ambassadors Another contemporary image of Anne survives in a sketch of her coronation banquet, depicting her crowned beneath a cloth of estate in Westminster Hall, the focal point of an elaborate theatrical display. Even in this crude drawing, Anne is unmistakably the axis around which the ceremony revolves. Together, these show that Anne was among the most visually represented queens of early Tudor England. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/hip2593496-f6287f1-e1773310819221.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A detailed pencil and chalk profile portrait of a person wearing a wrapped head covering, shown against a lightly toned background." title="Hans Holbein the Younger's drawing, likely depicting Anne, shows a number of key similarities to Hollar's picture (below) (Image by Topfoto)" /> Something rarer also survives: a glimpse of Anne Boleyn as she may have been seen by those who knew her personally. A chalk drawing by Hans Holbein the Younger, now in the Royal Collection at Windsor, depicts a woman in a fur-trimmed nightgown with a simple coif, her eyes lowered in contemplation. Though its subject has long been debated, recent scholarship by Dr Kate Heard has fundamentally reshaped understanding of this work, strongly supporting its identification as Anne Boleyn. The drawing dates securely to Holbein’s second period in England, when he was working at the heart of the Tudor court, producing preparatory studies for both painted portraits and miniatures – and, crucially, working extensively under Anne’s patronage. The apparent informality of the portrait, once used to argue against the identification, now strengthens it. Comparable works by the Horenbout workshop similarly depict elite sitters such as Henry VIII’s son, the Duke of Richmond, in a state of undress, intended for private viewing. Technical examination by the Royal Collection Trust has revealed that the sitter’s hair was originally far darker than it appears today. Layers of red, brown and black chalk have been largely worn away, with only remnants visible. Most compelling, however, is the later inscription identifying Anne as the sitter, based on an attribution by Sir John Cheke, who had met Anne in 1534, benefited from her patronage, and was closely connected to her circle through his wife, Mary Hill. If identified correctly, which now seems highly likely, this drawing represents the most direct surviving contemporary likeness of Anne. It shows her not as a crowned emblem of dynastic hope, as her public image had been crafted, but as a thinking, contemplative and private individual. The Windsor drawing also unlocks the meaning of a later engraving by Wenceslaus Hollar titled Faith, or St Barbara, produced in 1647. This print, based on a now-lost Holbein design once in the Earl of Arundel’s collection, depicts a crowned female figure holding a chalice and wafer set against a landscape of cliffs and water. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/2TCATRR-055fb42-e1773310923192.jpg" width="620" height="413" alt="A finely detailed historical engraving depicting a crowned woman in elaborate robes. She stands holding a large chalice with a smooth sphere balanced on its rim. The line work is delicate and textured, and the background features soft shading and cloudlike forms, giving the scene a symbolic or allegorical tone." title="Wenceslaus Hollar based his engraving Faith, or Saint Barbara on a picture by Hans Holbein the Younger (Image by Alamy)" /> When compared closely with the Windsor drawing, the resemblance is striking: they share the same profile, jawline, eye shape and cranial structure. The correspondence between the two strongly suggests that Holbein’s use of Anne’s face for Saint Barbara was drawn from his preparatory study. In this reading, the Windsor drawing was not an isolated likeness but part of a broader artistic conception. The choice of that saint is significant because, like the reformist Anne, Barbara was associated with steadfast Christian faith and resistance to coercion when compelled to revert to traditional beliefs. In Anne’s book of hours, King’s MS 9, the illumination of Saint Barbara shares compositional similarities with the Windsor sketch and Hollar engraving, including a distinctive looped plait, indicating direct visual continuity. Portraying Anne in this guise would have aligned her queenship with conscience and reform. Seen in this light, the image becomes both devotional and political. It presents Anne not simply as consort but as belief embodied. Saint Barbara was martyred and executed by the sword – a parallel that later viewers of this image could hardly have missed. The tragic irony is inescapable, though clearly it lies beyond the image’s original intent. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/BAL7392888-edf5339-e1773314139385.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A circular portrait miniature of Anne Boleyn framed in gold. She wears a richly decorated Tudor headdress with gold embroidery and pearls, a dark gown with a square lace‑trimmed neckline, and a chain necklace, set against a deep blue background" title="Other portrait miniatures – including this one now in the collection of the Duke of Bucchleuch – share "a striking physiognomy" with other paintings (Image by Bridgeman Images)" /> The possibility that Anne’s contemporary likeness survives in smaller, more intimate painted formats is strongly supported by this pairing of the Windsor sketch and the image of her as Saint Barbara. Two other near-identical portrait miniatures – one now in the collection of the Duke of Bucchleuch, the other in the Royal Ontario Museum, Canada – long associated with Anne, share a striking physiognomy with these two. When viewed together, the alignment of the facial structures is too close to be dismissed as a coincidence. These works appear to preserve a recognisable likeness circulating within and shortly after Anne’s lifetime, intended for private recognition rather than public proclamation. Though we can’t be absolutely certain of the person whom they portray, these miniatures stand as the most plausible painted candidates for capturing Anne Boleyn’s likeness from life. Read more | The Virgin Queen? Elizabeth I's forbidden love Changing faces After her execution, Anne’s image fell out of use. When it re-emerged during the reign of her daughter, Elizabeth I, it was in a radically altered political landscape. One of the most familiar images of Anne today is the portrait painted c1584 and catalogued as NPG 668 in the National Portrait Gallery. Long treated as a posthumously created likeness of Anne herself, it preserves something else: Elizabeth’s face. Art historian Lawrence Hendra has identified the creator of this famous panel painting as the as-yet-unnamed ‘Pearl Artist’. Comparing this artist’s other works – including portraits of Elizabeth I, her half-sister Mary I and her great-grandfather, Edward IV – it is clear that the painter used the same facial pattern for each sitter, including Anne Boleyn. The elongated facial structure, refined nose and controlled expression closely mirror Elizabeth’s physiognomy. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/GettyImages-92818829-f98bc7d-e1773311146880.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A richly detailed Tudor portrait of Anne Boleyn shown against a dark background. She wears an elaborate pearl‑studded headdress framing her face, a dark gown decorated with gold embroidery and pearls, and a necklace with a prominent gold “B” pendant. At the top of the painting, Latin text identifies her as “Anna Bolina, wife of Henry VIII.”" title="The 'Pearl Artist' painting of Anne. This was produced c1584 (Image by Getty Images)" /> This effort to make Elizabeth’s relatives, some of whom likely bore no resemblance to one another, look alike was deliberate. In the 1580s, Elizabeth’s position was vulnerable. She was unmarried, without an heir, and facing both internal Catholic resistance and external threat. So repainting her ancestors with her own facial features anchored her visually as the rightful queen at a time when her legitimacy was again in question. Ensuring that Elizabeth looked like her father’s relatives as well as her mother, who had been accused of adultery, was a covert attempt to transform Anne from a condemned queen into a dynastic foundation stone, visually legitimising her daughter’s rule. A different but equally deliberate innovation appears in the so-called Hever Rose portrait. Recent multi-modal scientific analysis by the Hamilton Kerr Institute, combined with dendrochronology (the dating of the wooden panel), places its painting in c1583, just one year before the famous picture in the National Portrait Gallery. Infrared reflectography reveals that the artist initially followed a pre-existing design but then interrupted it, inserting fully articulated hands holding a rose. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/Anne-Boleyn-16th-Century-Hever-Rose-24ca6bb-e1773311339212.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A richly detailed Tudor portrait of Anne Boleyn shown against a dark background. She wears an elaborate pearl‑studded headdress framing her face, a dark gown decorated with gold embroidery and pearls, and a necklace with a prominent gold “B” pendant. She has her hands held up against her chest. At the top of the painting, Latin text identifies her as “Anna Bolina, wife of Henry VIII.”" title="The Hever Rose portrait, painted c1583, is notable in deliberately depicting Anne’s hands – probably an attempt to nullify defamatory claims that she had possessed six fingers (Image by Hever Castle)" /> This moment matters, because it marks the first time Anne’s hands appeared in her posthumous iconography – a choice that was almost certainly polemical. In the early 1580s, defamatory claims by Nicholas Sander alleging that Anne possessed a sixth finger were already circulating widely in manuscript, years before they appeared in print. By depicting elegant, unblemished hands, with each finger made carefully visible, the artist offers a quiet but pointed rebuttal to this claim. Both portraits respond to the same anxiety. In a period when Elizabeth’s legitimacy was under attack, Anne’s image was re-engineered to defend it: her face reshaped to mirror the queen’s, her body corrected to refute slander. Art became a form of political repair. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/BAL872290-3b47074-e1773313278928.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A highly detailed Elizabethan portrait showing a figure in an opulent gown covered with pearls, gemstones, and intricate gold embroidery. A tall, floral-patterned lace ruff frames the neck, and the sitter’s tightly curled hair is topped with a pearl‑ and jewel‑encrusted headdress. The dark background emphasizes the elaborate textures and craftsmanship of the clothing and accessories." title="Contemporary portraits, like the one of Elizabeth I above, were clearly based on the same facial pattern used in the 'Pearl Artist' painting of Anne (Image by Bridgeman Images)" /> Lost likeness Nearly five centuries after her execution, we may never know precisely what Anne Boleyn looked like. Her face survives only in fragments, refracted through prisms of politics, art and memory. Yet this uncertainty is not a failure of evidence; it is part of her history. The images and descriptions that survive show that Anne was not invisible, and not admired solely for her beauty. She was compelling because of her presence, intelligence and conviction. She understood the power of being seen, and used imagery, print and ceremony to assert her place in the world. In the end, the question of her appearance matters not because it satisfies curiosity but because it restores agency. Anne Boleyn was not merely a face shaped by others but an active participant – through her patronage of Holbein and the Horenbout family, not least – in how she was represented, remembered and contested. Approaching 500 years on, we are still learning to see her clearly. Unpicking locks What colour was Anne Boleyn's hair? Modern portrayals often depict Anne with jet-black hair, reinforcing an image of dark, exotic beauty. The historical record, however, is more ambiguous. Contemporary descriptions mention dark eyes and darker complexion, but none explicitly describe hair colour – likely because it may not have seemed remarkable enough to comment upon. Some later sources describe Anne as “witch-like” with black hair; others suggest chestnut or reddish tones. The poet Thomas Wyatt may have been referring to her when he wrote of a “brunet” woman. In Tudor usage, that could refer to dark hair, darker skin or both, and was often used to signal complexion rather than colouring alone. Genetics adds more uncertainty. Anne’s daughter, Elizabeth I, was red-haired, as was Henry VIII in his youth. Red hair is linked to variants of the MC1R gene expressed only if inherited from both parents, so Anne must have carried at least one such variant. Though not proof that she herself was red-haired, this significantly increases the likelihood, and makes chestnut or auburn tones entirely plausible. Later portraits often show Anne with lighter reddish-brown hair. These may reflect attempts to align her appearance more closely with Elizabeth’s, reinforcing dynastic continuity. In a culture where fair hair was associated with virtue, this shift was politically advantageous. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2026/03/GettyImages-544168286-132885d-e1773314361550.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A richly detailed Tudor portrait of Anne Boleyn shown against a dark background. She wears an elaborate pearl‑studded headdress framing her face, a dark gown decorated with gold embroidery and pearls, and a necklace with a prominent gold “B” pendant." title="A late 16th-century portrait shows Anne with reddish hair, again perhaps tying her to Elizabeth (Image by Getty Images)" /> This article was first published in the March 2026 issue of HistoryExtra Magazine
Porpoise for breakfast and late night sex visits: Henry VIII's life in a day
Ever wondered what Tudor England’s most famous monarch ate for breakfast? (Or whether breakfast was even a thing?) Tracy Borman examines Henry VIII’s daily routine – and sexual proclivities – during the year that he married Anne Boleyn
The year 1533 was a big one for Henry VIII. It began with his secret marriage to Anne Boleyn, followed a few months later by the annulment of his first marriage to Catherine of Aragon. The new queen was crowned in June, then in September she gave birth to the future Elizabeth I, rather than the hoped-for male heir. And as if that wasn’t enough, the Reformation parliament passed radical religious legislation that would separate the country from Rome and make Henry supreme head of the new Church of England. Amidst these seismic events, however, Henry’s daily life continued much as it had done during the previous 24 years of his reign. The Tudor court ran according to a strict routine, and nothing – not even the pope in Rome – could disrupt it. In the early years of his reign, when Henry was at the peak of his youthful vigour, he would rise at the crack of dawn and go hunting for several hours – sometimes until dusk. The courtier and diplomat Richard Pace reported to Cardinal Wolsey that, during the summer, the “King rises daily, except on holy days, at 4 or 5 o’clock and hunts till 9 or 10 at night”. Henry would get up later in the colder months, typically at around eight o’clock. But those carefree days had diminished by 1533. The king was paying much closer attention to affairs of state and was no longer living “in continuous festival”, as his first wife had put it in the early days of their marriage. Nevertheless, Henry still spent a decent amount of each day indulging in physical pursuits. Now in his early forties, he was almost as full of energy as he had been in his youth. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/12/13AAW7T4-d152d6f-e1764861462989.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A black and white sketch of a man holding a large bow and arrow, with arrows across his body too. A man stands behind him and another kneels down on the ground next to him" title="A Victorian image depicts a youthful Henry VIII enjoying a spot of archery at the Field of the Cloth of Gold – the extravagant summit he hosted with Francis I of France in 1520. While the king no longer enjoyed a life of “continuous festival”, he was still physically active in his early forties (Image by Alamy)" /> An “improbably large codpiece” To get Henry ready for whatever the day held, his privy chamber staff had to rise even earlier than he did. Having cleaned the king’s chambers, the grooms would wake the esquires of the body, who slept in the ‘pallet chamber’ next door to the royal bedchamber. The esquires would enter their royal master’s bedchamber to “array him and dress him in his [under]clothes”, which were strewn with fresh herbs to keep them sweet-smelling. Having been “loosely dressed” by his esquires, Henry would step into the privy chamber so that his six gentlemen could complete the ceremony of robing with whichever garments he had chosen for that day. Henry loved to show off his physique – as well as his riches – in the quality and quantity of the cloth from which his garments were fashioned. His broad shoulders were emphasised by padded and embroidered sleeves, the curve of his calf muscles was shown off to best effect by white silk hose, and his improbably large codpiece symbolised his masculinity and power. Clearly, he pulled it off. The Venetian ambassador, Sebastiano Guistinian, described Henry as “the best dressed sovereign in the world”. Hair, ear wax and urine When the king was dressed for the day, his barber would begin shaving his royal master and dressing his hair. He had to be a man of infinite trustworthiness: after all, he would be holding sharp blades to the king’s throat! During the early years of his reign, Henry was clean-shaven, as Catherine of Aragon preferred. But what she liked mattered less by 1533, when he sported a fine beard, which the barber would ensure was neatly trimmed. Read more | The swordplay’s the thing: Henry VIII's Masters of Defence and the thrilling world of 16th-century fencing Luxury pervaded the business of hairdressing and shaving, as it did every other element of Henry’s daily routine. Inventories of his possessions list silver basins for shaving and facecloths trimmed with black silk, as well as a comb of “gold garnished with… stones and pearl”, a toothpick case of gold, and an “ear pick of silver”. Among the many gifts that the king had showered Anne Boleyn with during their courtship was a gold ear wax scoop. Who says romance is dead? <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/12/2GettyImages-544278466-a6f7064-e1764861641975.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A painting showing Henry VIII, bearded with a large hat on, wearing maroon robes and a large gold chain" title="A copy of Hans Holbein the Younger’s famous 1536–37 portrait of Henry VIII. The king’s neatly trimmed beard and “improbably large codpiece” are very much present in this depiction (Image by Getty Images)" /> Next up, Henry would be examined by one of his team of physicians. They came armed with bladder-shaped flasks for inspecting the king’s urine and would also examine his stools. In submitting himself to the frequent attentions of his medics, the king was following royal protocol – after all, a sovereign’s health was of the utmost importance to the state. But Henry had always been prone to hypochondria and would be thrown into a panic at any sign of illness at court. The French ambassador described him as “the most timid person in such matters you could meet”. Mrs Cornwallis’s sweet treats Having been washed, groomed, dressed and examined, the king was at last ready to go out into the court. The first meal of the day was generally served at around 10.30 or 11 o’clock, although sometimes it was as late as midday (breakfast was not a thing until the reign of Henry’s daughter Elizabeth). This was known as ‘dinner’ and was substantial enough to maintain the king and his courtiers until late afternoon. It comprised an array of different meats, such as boar, pork, lamb and venison, as well as game birds like pheasant and rabbit, swan and more unusual fare like conger eel and porpoise. The king had a sweet tooth, too, and regularly gorged on custards, fritters, tarts, jelly, cream of almonds and quince marmalade. His favourite confectioner was a woman named Mrs Cornwallis, whom he rewarded with a fine house close to the Tower of London. In contrast to the popular image of Henry seated at the top table of a great feast, devouring endless chicken legs and throwing the bones over his shoulder, he was a very fastidious eater and preferred to take his meals in private. He didn’t like to linger over his meals, either, because he was impatient to get on with his day. WATCH | Kate Williams discusses the origins of Henry VIII's vast leisure complex, Hampton Court Palace View Green Video on the source website Hunting, archery, bowling and tennis took up several hours. Sir William Kingston, who was a regular at Henry’s court (and was later Anne Boleyn’s gaoler at the Tower), observed that even after more than 20 years on the throne: “The king hawks every day with goshawks and others… both before noon and after.” Having practised these sporting pursuits from childhood, Henry was highly skilled, particularly at tennis. The Venetian ambassador enthused: “It is the prettiest thing in the world to see him play.” “Tedious and painful” The distinction between work and play was blurred during Henry’s reign. He would discuss politics with ambassadors and ministers while enjoying a game of bowls or practising archery, and would hold more private audiences with his advisors while being dressed or undressed, taking his meals or bathing. The privy council was the beating heart of Henry’s government and would meet almost every day at around noon. By 1533, Henry was attending those meetings much more frequently than during the carefree early years of his reign. They would discuss all the most pressing matters of the day – of which there was no shortage in the year that the king rid himself of one wife, took another and separated England from Roman Catholic Europe. Thomas Cromwell was the most influential member of the privy council and worked closely with Henry, often holding private meetings with the king. Read more | The lie of succession: did James I steal Elizabeth I's crown? Supper was served between three and four o’clock each afternoon and would typically comprise soups, pottage, roasted meats, tarts, custards, fruits, nuts and cheeses. If Henry was peckish in the evening, his cooks would prepare a snack known as a ‘rear night’ or ‘all night’, which was usually served between eight and nine o’clock. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/12/3GettyImages-2198973715-a81c1a0-e1764861900600.jpg" width="1500" height="972" alt="A lavish display of fruit, vegetables, nuts, poultry and meat depicted by Flemish painter Joachim Beuckelaer, c1560–65. Henry would have been treated to similarly sumptuous spreads, although he preferred to eat his meals in private (Image by Getty Images)" title="A lavish display of fruit, vegetables, nuts, poultry and meat depicted by Flemish painter Joachim Beuckelaer, c1560–65. Henry would have been treated to similarly sumptuous spreads, although he preferred to eat his meals in private (Image by Getty Images)" /> Henry was renowned for his piety and spent a significant part of every day in worship. One ambassador reported: “He hears three masses daily when he hunts and sometimes five on other days.” This had been encouraged by his first wife, a devout Roman Catholic. By contrast, Anne Boleyn was a reformer and introduced Henry to radical religious texts that encouraged him to break from obedience to Rome. Although he admitted to finding writing “tedious and painful”, the king was a voracious reader, and his private library was filled with classical and theological texts from across the world. Long trips to the loo Every so often, the king would take a bath in his private apartments. But the leading physicians of the age cautioned against regular bathing in hot water because it opened the pores and allowed deadly diseases such as the plague, sweating sickness and smallpox to enter the body. Instead, cold water was used for washing the king’s hands and face first thing in the morning and before and after every meal. Even if Henry’s baths were infrequent, they were predictably luxurious. At the palaces of Richmond and Whitehall, Henry had steam baths installed, fragments of which are still preserved at Hampton Court. Henry had his own private close stool (a type of portable toilet) in each palace. His ‘stool chambers’ at Greenwich and Hampton Court were kitted out with pictures and bookshelves to keep the king amused during the long hours that he spent there. His close stools were covered in embroidered velvet, stuffed with swan’s-down and studded with gilt nails. To emphasise his magnificence, Henry staged lavish evening entertainments at court. His Master of the Revels devised plays, pageants and musical interludes to be performed in front of the king and his guests. Some of the more ambitious set-pieces involved mock battles and the famous ‘Château Vert’ pageant of 1522, when a certain young lady called Anne Boleyn made her first appearance at Henry’s court. As well as being an accomplished musician, Henry loved to show off on the dance floor. He “exercised himself daily in dancing” and “does wonders and leaps like a stag”, reported an astonished onlooker. Most evenings, the king and his courtiers would indulge in gambling. Huge sums would be won and lost at cards, dice and board games. Between the years 1529 and 1532, Henry squandered a staggering £3,243 (equivalent to £2.36 million today). But there was always a jester or ‘fool’ on hand to cheer the king after his losses. Henry’s favourite fool was Will Somer, who entered his service in 1525 and kept the king entertained for the next 20 years. It was said that “in all the court few men were more beloved than was this fool”. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/12/5GettyImages-463967531-c9338ca-e1764862158221.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A scene of revelry and merriment published in the 1902 book Henry VIII by AF Pollard. According to Tracy Borman, Henry “loved to show off” on the dance floor (Image by Getty Images)" title="A scene of revelry and merriment published in the 1902 book Henry VIII by AF Pollard. According to Tracy Borman, Henry “loved to show off” on the dance floor (Image by Getty Images)" /> Henry’s bedroom antics The king rarely retired before midnight, “which is our accustomed hour at court to go to bed”. An elaborate ceremony of disrobing began as soon as he stepped into the bedchamber. His gentlemen and esquires of the body would carefully untie, unbuckle and remove every item of clothing and then put on his nightgown. Another attendant would bring a basin of water and a cloth so that he could wash his face and clean his teeth. The king’s body servants would then comb his hair and cover it with a ‘night-bonnet’ of scarlet or black embroidered velvet before helping him into bed and lighting a candle next to it. Their work complete, all but one of the privy chamber attendants bowed low and backed out of the room, leaving their royal master to his rest. Every detail of this protracted routine would be observed each night without fail. It only differed when Henry chose to visit his wife. On such occasions, he would summon his grooms of the chamber, who would dress him in his nightrobe and escort him with lighted torches to the door of the queen’s bedchamber. The king would rarely spend the night there, though, and would return to his own bedchamber once his, erm, ‘business’ there had been concluded. But given that Anne Boleyn was almost certainly pregnant at the time she married Henry in January 1533, these conjugal visits would have been rare or non-existent until she gave birth in September. The wisdom of the day dictated that sex during pregnancy was harmful to the unborn child, so instead Henry found comfort with other women. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/12/6GettyImages-533506999-960aef2-e1764862263626.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="A painting showing a large man standing in gold regal clothing and a large cloak, being served a goblet on a tray by a man kneeling on the floor. Other people stand around and watch" title="An 1835 painting imagines Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn’s first meeting. Despite his early obsession with Anne, the king’s affection for his second wife waned only a few months into their marriage (Image by Getty Images)" /> This caused the first serious rift between the newlyweds in August 1533, when Anne was about to enter her ‘confinement’ – the month-long period when a royal wife would live in complete seclusion to await the birth of her child. “The king’s affection for her [Anne] is less than it was”, reported the Imperial ambassador Eustace Chapuys. “He now shows himself in love with another lady, and many nobles are assisting him in the affair.” When she heard of this, Anne was “very jealous” and confronted her royal husband. To her dismay, rather than offering placatory assurances, he spat back that she must “shut her eyes and endure” as more “worthy” persons had done. Henry’s affection for his new wife took another nose-dive when she gave birth to a daughter (the future Elizabeth I) on 7 September, rather than the hoped-for son. Read more | Inside the six wives' bedchamber: the stories of Tudor ladies-in-waiting Adultery, treason and execution As the year 1533 drew to a close, the court moved to Greenwich for the Christmas celebrations. “The King’s Grace kept great court, as merry and lusty as ever”, one guest observed. There was a good reason for Henry to be cheerful: Anne Boleyn was pregnant once more. Her New Year gift to the king was an exquisite table fountain of gold, studded with rubies, diamonds and pearls. Designed by Hans Holbein, it featured three naked women standing at the foot of a fountain, water issuing forth from their nipples – a clear allusion to her impending motherhood. WATCH | HistoryExtra's Kev Lochun explores the story of the wife of Henry VIII who had a lucky escape View Green Video on the source website Sadly, the queen lost the child a few months later and miscarried twice more in the two years that followed. The king, who in the early days of their courtship had been so enraptured that he had overturned his entire kingdom in order to marry Anne, now “shrank from her”. In May 1536, Anne was condemned on trumped-up charges of adultery, incest and treason and executed. Earlier that year, Henry had suffered a serious accident whilst jousting, which brought the physical activities that had filled so many of his days at court to an abrupt end. Plagued by pain and humiliated by his expanding girth, this most famous of kings became the bloated tyrant of legend.
From tragic Tudor queens to restless Roman soldiers: Britain's 8 most haunted houses
From tragic Tudor queens to restless Roman soldiers, Caitlin Blackwell Baines introduces us to the terrifying cast of phantoms said to dwell within the nation’s spookiest homes
1. Stirling Castle, Scotland From elusive sea monsters to shrieking banshees, Scotland is home to a host of supernatural beings – including, of course, ghosts. One of their best-known spectral celebrities is the ill-fated Mary, Queen of Scots, who is said to haunt a staggering 10 properties, making her, perhaps, the best-travelled ghost in the nation. Among her main haunts is Stirling Castle, her childhood home in central Scotland. Perched atop a volcanic crag, surrounded by cliffs overlooking the River Forth, Stirling Castle was constructed in the early 12th century, originally as a military stronghold, acting as a strategic line of defence during the Wars of Scottish Independence (1296–1357). However, almost from the very beginning, Stirling was also a favourite royal residence. By the time a young Mary Stuart lived there in the 1540s, it was as much a palace as it was a fortress: her father, James V, had transformed it into one of the most opulent homes in Renaissance Britain. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/10/Stirling-Castle-Bannockburn-1-8d83973.jpg" width="1200" height="960" alt="A large brown castle stands on a tree-covered hill, against a dark grey cloudy sky" title="Stirling Castle is one of several historic buildings said to be haunted by the ghost of Mary, Queen of Scots – the ill-fated monarch who was imprisoned – and executed – upon the orders of her cousin, Elizabeth I (Image by SpookyScotland.net)" /> Whatever happy childhood memories Mary may have had of Stirling would be tainted by the events of 21 April 1567. It was here on this day that the embattled queen would see her infant son (the future King James VI & I) for the last time. Soon after, she was forced to abdicate, flee the country, and eventually, in 1587, she was executed for treason under the orders of her cousin, Elizabeth I. Perhaps it is for this reason that the melancholy monarch returns to the castle, perpetually searching for her long-lost child, even in the afterlife. She is said to be kept company by a dutiful servant – a young woman in green, who purportedly died in a fire while attempting to save her mistress. They are also joined by Stirling’s notorious ‘Highland Ghost’ – a mysterious man adorned in full Highland regalia, who is often mistaken for a costumed tour guide. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/10/Raynham-Hall-ghostWHB5WT-f2f1e5a.jpg" width="4218" height="5059" alt="A black and white photograph of a staircase with a white ghostly figure in the middle" title="This photograph of Raynham Hall’s ‘Brown Lady’ – purportedly the ghost of former resident Lady Dorothy Townshend – caused a stir when it was first published in 1936 (Image by Alamy)" /> 2. Raynham Hall, Norfolk At its height in the Georgian period, Raynham Hall was nationally renowned for its innovative architecture, priceless art collection and powerful owner. Though originally constructed in the early 1600s, the stately red-brick manor we see today was largely the work of eminent early 18th-century architect William Kent, acting under the direction of Charles, 2nd Viscount Townshend, a leader in the House of Lords. Like the house he lived in, Townshend was an imposing figure, known for his fiery temper and blustering delivery in parliament. And rumour had it, his aggressiveness was not solely reserved for political opponents. His long-suffering wife, Dorothy, may have also been a target of his ire. The story goes that Lady Dorothy Townshend (née Walpole, sister of prime minister Robert) endured an unhappy marriage. Some say she was unfaithful, while others claim it was her extravagant spending that incurred her husband’s wrath. In any case, she purportedly died under mysterious circumstances and continues to roam Raynham’s halls to this day. Read more | Five shocking tales from Britain’s royal palaces Over the years, there have been numerous reported sightings of Lady Townshend – or ‘The Brown Lady’ as she has come to be known, on account of the colour of her silk brocade dress – but perhaps none so dramatic as the encounter of photographers Hubert Provand and Indre Shira. In the autumn of 1936, while on assignment for Country Life magazine, Provand and Shira prepared to take a photo of Raynham’s main staircase. Just as they were setting up the shot, they suddenly caught sight of an ethereal, veiled form floating down the stairs. Acting fast, they snapped their photo and captured what is widely considered to be one of the most famous examples of ‘spirit photography’ in history. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/10/50-Berkeley-SquareK07JMM-ffef8a3.jpg" width="743" height="1153" alt="A black and white photograph of a dark front door. Either side of it are iron railings, and there is an arch over the two steps leading up to it" title="Dare you open the door? Visitors to 50 Berkeley Square have been reporting strange goings-on since the mid-19th century (Image by Alamy)" /> 3. 50 Berkeley Square, Mayfair, Greater London With its elegant Georgian townhouses, luxury boutiques and Michelin star restaurants, the upscale district of Mayfair in central London may not seem like the natural setting for a ghost story. And yet, it is home to a property once christened the ‘Most Haunted House in London’. The offending structure can be found on Berkeley Square, a residential block first laid out in the mid-1700s by architect William Kent (the man behind Raynham Hall). From the outside, there’s nothing much to distinguish the townhouse at No 50 from its neighbours – but don’t let its staid, neoclassical façade fool you. The first reports of unusual activity at No 50 occurred in the mid-1800s. Nearby residents noticed strange sounds and smells, lights flickering in the windows at all hours of the night, and the noticeable signs of decay and abandon. Sceptics chalked this up to the eccentric habits of its owner, Thomas Myers, a recluse left heartbroken by the rejection of his fiancée. Nevertheless, rumours soon swirled that the house was haunted. View Green Video on the source website Some believed the ghost was a young woman who had jumped from an upper-storey window. Others claimed it was Myers himself, who had locked himself in the attic and driven himself mad. Still others maintained it was a preexisting entity that had possessed both Myers and the suicidal woman. Whatever the case, most Londoners came to fear and avoid No 50 – all save for a brave and foolhardy few. One such daredevil was Lord George Lyttleton, a Conservative statesman, who, in 1872, accepted a bet to stay a night alone at the house. Though incredulous of the stories, Lyttleton packed a pistol and was probably quite pleased he had done so, for when a dark, tendrilled apparition advanced towards him, he was able to defend himself. Firing a few rounds, he was certain he’d hit his mark. Yet, when the smoke settled, it revealed only spent shell casings and an empty attic. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/10/Chillingham-Castle2BYB32Y-e4a1674.jpg" width="5081" height="3381" alt="A black and white photograph of a large castle with crenellated towers" title="This photograph of Chillingham Castle may be in black and white, but the building’s paranormal history is certainly colourful: its most famous ghoul is a boy in blue who appears to visitors inside a pink bedroom (Image by Alamy)" /> 4. Chillingham Castle, Northumberland Touted as Britain’s ‘Most Haunted Castle,’ Chillingham has a long and violent history. Once one of nearly 100 fortifications that dotted the bleak borderlands of England and Scotland, this 13th-century fortress served a pivotal role in the centuries-long rift between the two warring kingdoms. It was here, in 1298, that King Edward I launched his attack on William Wallace during the First War of Scottish Independence. Over the years, hundreds of England’s enemies were killed at Chillingham, many of them by torture in the castle’s dungeon and torture chamber – a cramped windowless pit located in a cellar beneath what is today a public tearoom. Strangely, however, these prisoners are not among the castle’s best-known ghostly residents. Instead, the most familiar phantom faces are those of women and children. There is the mysterious ‘Radiant Boy’ – an unknown child in blue who materialises before guests in the castle’s ‘Pink Bedroom’. And the legendary ‘Grey Lady’ – believed to be the ghost of Lady Mary Berkeley, whose husband, Ford Grey, 1st Earl of Tankerville, reportedly jilted her for her younger sister, leaving her alone and heartbroken in the castle. Modern visitors report the sounds of sobbing, the rustling of a heavy gown dragging along the castle’s corridors, and the faint aroma of rosewater. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/10/Blickling-HallBPB4N5-54b2853.jpg" width="5637" height="3775" alt="A large red brick palace lit up from below by floodlights. Behind it, there are many trees in shadow and the sky is deep blue" title="Anne Boleyn is said to haunt several palaces and stately homes, including Blickling Hall near Norwich. The Tudor queen is thought to have been born at the manor that previously stood on the site (Image by Alamy)" /> 5. Blickling Hall, Norfolk Blickling Hall might be considered the English counterpart to Scotland’s Stirling Castle – though, on the face of it, they would seem to have little in common. Where Stirling is a medieval citadel looming over the gateway to the Scottish Highlands, Blickling is a Jacobean manor nestled in the heart of the Norfolk Broads. Just 20 miles east of Raynham Hall, one would think it would have more in common with its ‘haunted’ East Anglian neighbour. But as the presumed birthplace of Anne Boleyn, Blickling has a far stronger symbolic link to the childhood home of Scotland’s own tragic queen. Read more | Your history guide to Frogmore Cottage: who has lived there before? The existing structure, built for Sir Henry Hobart in 1616, was erected atop the ruins of a Tudor manor house once belonging to Thomas Boleyn, 1st Earl of Wiltshire – whose youngest daughter had the unfortunate honour of becoming Henry VIII’s second wife. On 19 May 1536, after just three years of marriage, Anne Boleyn was beheaded for adultery and treason. Like her Scottish counterpart, Anne is thought to haunt a number of historic properties, including Hever Castle (another childhood home), Windsor Castle (a brief residence), the Tower of London (the site of her death), and, of course, Blickling. Here, she is said to appear every year on the anniversary of her death, in a carriage driven by headless horses. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/10/Heol-FanogGettyImages-1281060558-a4fffad.jpg" width="6000" height="4000" alt="A black farmhouse stands on a hill, with a single light shining in the middle. The farmhouse has a chimney at either end of the roof and behind it, the sky is dark grey" title="A spooky farmhouse. One such building, Heol Fanog (Welsh for ‘Road to the Peaks’), gained notoriety in 2022 when it became the subject of hit podcast The Witch Farm (Image by Getty Images)" /> 6. Heol Fanog, Brecon Beacons, Wales A relatively recent entry into the annals of haunted historic Britain, Heol Fanog farmhouse in South Wales has gained contemporary notoriety thanks to the exposure of the hit BBC Sounds podcast, The Witch Farm (2022). The series focuses on the occupancy of the Rich family, who lived on the farm for a seven-year period from 1989, during which time they claim to have experienced a litany of terrifying events. From cold spots to disembodied footsteps, inexplicable power surges to noxious odours, and even full-blown apparitions and demonic possessions, the experiences of the Rich family have been likened to that of the Lutz family of Amityville Horror fame. While these stories are relatively new – and, indeed, the farmhouse itself is less than a hundred years old – legends about the isolated rural property have circulated for well over a century. The area’s strong association with witchcraft, occultism and Celtic mysticism, combined with the dark legacy of a gruesome local murder in the 19th century, have earned the property its nickname: ‘The Witch Farm’ or ‘Hellfire Farm’. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/10/Hampton-CourtG37YX0-eab2b03.jpg" width="4458" height="2903" alt="Henry VIII’s third wife, Jane Seymour, is supposedly one of Hampton Court’s many resident phantoms. Early 20th-century postcards depicted the queen’s ‘ghost’ using a crude double-exposure effect (Image by Alamy)" title="Henry VIII’s third wife, Jane Seymour, is supposedly one of Hampton Court’s many resident phantoms. Early 20th-century postcards depicted the queen’s ‘ghost’ using a crude double-exposure effect (Image by Alamy)" /> 7. Hampton Court Palace, Greater London Historic Royal Palaces certainly have their hands full. In addition to managing some of the nation’s highest profile heritage landmarks, catering to some 4 million visitors each year, they also have ghosts to contend with. Several properties in their portfolio – including the Tower of London, Kensington Palace and Kew Palace – are allegedly haunted. And while it’s hard to say which one of them is the most haunted, Hampton Court is definitely a strong contender. Construction on the iconic Tudor palace began in 1515 under the direction of Thomas Wolsey, Archbishop of York – Henry VIII’s chief advisor. At the time, Wolsey was one of the kingdom’s richest and most influential figures and he intended to build a home to reflect his position. In this he succeeded; however, within just a few years of his home’s completion, Wolsey had fallen from favour. Shortly before he died in 1530, he was ordered to surrender the palace to the king. Just 15 miles from London, the palace quickly became a favourite royal retreat. Read more | Seven of history's most disturbing ghost ship stories that will haunt your dreams While many monarchs have resided in Hampton Court over the centuries, the palace is indelibly linked with the reign of Henry VIII. As such, it should come as no surprise that the most familiar phantoms are members of the Henrician court. There’s Jane Seymour, Henry’s third wife, who died from complications of childbirth, and allegedly still holds a solemn vigil on the palace’s Silverstick staircase; Catherine Howard, Henry’s fifth wife, whose ghost is said to run screaming down the aptly-named ‘Haunted Gallery’, endlessly replaying a failed attempt to reach her husband to beg him to spare her from execution; and maybe even Old King Hal himself. Some believe it was the ghost of the king who was captured on the viral CCTV footage that made headlines around the world in the winter of 2003. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/10/Treasurers-HouseTopfoto0780551-5b87db0.jpg" width="3442" height="2284" alt="A cellar with dirty brick walls. To the left, there is an empty fireplace with a dark tunnel, and on the right, there are two boxes stacked on one another" title="The infamous cellar at the Treasurer’s House, York. In 1953, a young plumber’s apprentice claimed to have witnessed Roman soldiers marching through a wall (Image by Topfoto)" /> 8. Treasurer's House, York, North Yorkshire Beneath the soaring spires of York Minster, scores of visitors amble along pedestrian thoroughfares lined with gastropubs, gift shops and historic buildings. The din of casual conversation is occasionally interrupted by the booming oratory of tour guides who lead groups of tourists down winding cobble-stoned lanes and narrow alleyways (idiosyncratically referred to as ‘snickleways’ by the locals). These merry little bands are on the hunt for haunted houses, and in York – reputedly the ‘Most Haunted City in Britain’ – they will not be disappointed. Dozens of properties compete for the title of ‘Most Haunted House’ in York, and while there is no clear victor, there is one property that can lay claim to what is, perhaps, the best authenticated ghost story in British history. That is the Treasurer’s House – a Grade I listed National Trust property with foundations dating all the way back to the early 12th century. Its best-known ghost story, however, has nothing to do with its medieval history. In 1953, an 18-year-old apprentice plumber called Harry Martindale was hired to install a boiler in the property’s ancient cellar. Working alone and in silence, Martindale was startled by the distant sound of a trumpet. The sound grew closer, and suddenly, what appeared to be a Roman soldier with a plumed helmet emerged from a wall, followed by a cart horse and a band of other soldiers, all dressed in green and carrying round shields. If this weren’t strange enough, the soldiers appeared to be cut off at the knees. Though Martindale’s claims were initially dismissed as hallucinations, the subsequent discovery of the Via Decumana, a Roman road lying about 15 inches below the cellar floor, gave credence to his story. What’s more, his description of the soldiers’ attire – originally deemed inaccurate based on existing historical knowledge – was later confirmed to be consistent with the regiment stationed at the Roman outpost of Eboracum (i.e. modern-day York). Caitlin Blackwell Baines is an art historian and author who specialises in Georgian art and architecture. She is the author of How to Build a Haunted House: The History of a Cultural Obsession (Profile Books, 2025) This article was first published in the Apple News October 2025 bonus issue
Estelle Paranque charts the biography – and betrayal – of Anne Boleyn, to offer a new perspective on the Tudor queen
Anne Boleyn is one the most famous queens in history, but what do we get wrong about Henry VIII's tragic second wife? Speaking to Lauren Good, historian Estelle Paranque sheds new light on this iconic Tudor queen by taking a look at the influences that shaped her. View Green Video on the source website
All you need to know about Katherine Parr – the truth about the wife who 'survived'
The sixth and last wife of Henry VIII, Katherine Parr (1512–48) has gone down in history as the wife who 'survived'. But despite the common misconception that she was a middle-aged, pious 'frump', Katherine Parr was in fact the cleverest and most passionate of Henry VIII's six wives, says Derek Wilson
Of all the wives of Henry VIII, the one most often misunderstood, if not largely ignored, is Katherine Parr. Her story, as usually told – when told at all – lacks the romance of 'sex-bombs' Anne Boleyn or Catherine Howard; the heroic fortitude of Catherine of Aragon; the political intrigue surrounding the lives of Jane Seymour and Anne of Cleves. Wife number six is famous for 'surviving'. She was the twice-widowed, matronly bluestocking who patiently, submissively (and boringly?) tended the sick, aged, irascible king through the painful last years of his life and then disappeared from the 'front page' of history. The truth, however, is much more complicated. For my money Katherine was the cleverest, most devout and – yes – passionate of Henry VIII's bedfellows. Who was Katherine Parr? In 1543 when Henry proposed, Katherine was no middle-aged frump. She was probably 30 years of age, had been born into a courtier family and held a place in Tudor high society. She loved fine clothes, jewels and intelligent company. She was in many ways an excellent choice to be England's 'first lady' – or so the king thought, and he was, by now well experienced in such matters. Katherine also had about her the radiance of a woman in love – more of that anon. For the moment let us try to gain a clear impression of the woman who was coming to terms with a royal offer of marriage. Why was Katherine Parr chosen by Henry VIII? The first point to note is that Katherine Parr, aka Lady Latimer, was Henry's choice. Former spouses had been urged upon the king by politicians, diplomats and ambitious aristocratic clans: the Howards, the Boleyns, the Seymours and Thomas Cromwell had dangled their candidates before Henry and each had their own agendas. But there is no evidence of any faction pushing the recently widowed Katherine into the king's presence. Indeed, the common view in elite circles seems to have been that Henry would not risk a sixth disappointment. Then there is the issue of sex. Everyone knew that marriage number four had been a fiasco because Anne of Cleves failed to please the king in bed. It's not difficult to imagine the sniggering tales that would have been going around the royal court about the so-called ‘Flanders mare’ who was supposedly ugly and looked like a horse. By contrast, marriage number five suggested a different kind of challenge. Henry had felt rejuvenated by nights spent with the teenage Catherine Howard (whom he married in July 1540). Therefore, to accept the royal proposal Katherine Parr would have to match up to the sexual fantasies of an overweight invalid whose nights were often plagued by anguished insomnia. In this regard Katherine had been well prepared by her two previous marriages, both of which had been with men who enjoyed good health. Documentary evidence is scanty, but what there is suggests a woman who used clothes, milk baths, perfumes, chamber furnishings, food, drink and conversation to provide the right ambience when her husband came to her chamber. Katherine made a success of her marriage to Henry because she brought to it a combination of intelligence and passion – she spared no effort to make her marriage work. We might well argue that she had no real option: to turn Henry down could have had dire consequences for herself and her family. To say 'yes' would mean carefully avoiding all the pitfalls that had been the undoing of her predecessors. Her narrow career path lay before her and all she could do was walk it with cautious steps. But Parr was no mere pragmatist – she enjoyed all the obvious perks of her exalted position and was careful not to jeopardise that position by putting a foot wrong. We can make this bold assertion because, unique among Henry's wives, Katherine left a volume of letters and extremely personal writings that reveal, in detail, what she thought and believed. The passions of Katherine Parr These writings reveal, first of all, that Katherine embarked on her marriage to Henry at great emotional cost: she was in love with someone else. Thomas Seymour, the king's brother-in-law and uncle to Prince Edward, the heir to the throne, was in his mid-30s and one of the most dashing bucks of the Tudor court. Katherine later wrote to Seymour to tell him that as soon as her husband Lord Latimer had died in February 1543: “As truly as God is God, my mind was fully bent… to marry you before any man I knew. Howbeit, God withstood my will therein most vehemently for a time and, through his grace and goodness, made that possible which seemeth to me most unpossible… to renounce utterly mine own will and to follow His will most willingly.” Katherine asked Henry for time to consider his proposal and gave herself to earnest prayer. The modern historian runs into difficulties when explaining 16th-century attitudes to 21st-century readers. A secular age may find it difficult to understand Katherine’s zeal for her faith. In the spiritual autobiography Queen Katherine published for all the world to read, she declared: “Neither life, honour, riches, neither whatsoever I possess here… be it never so dearly beloved of me, but most willingly and gladly I would leave it, to win any man to Christ, of what degree or sort soever he were.” Did this last clause suggest that she hoped to win over the king to her way of thinking? We cannot wholly avoid speculation when we relate Katherine’s conscience-searching in the summer of 1543, but the country’s extremely tense religious situation must surely have played a part in her thinking. On 12 July 1543, Katherine Parr and Henry VIII were married quietly at Hampton Court. And Thomas Seymour? He was appointed to a succession of diplomatic and military positions that kept him out of the country for most of the rest of Henry’s reign. View Green Video on the source website What were Katherine Parr's religious beliefs? With the execution of Thomas Cromwell in July 1540 the Reformation had stalled. The reactionaries had regained the initiative and a major part of their campaign was the removal from office of those they considered to be tainted with heresy. At the very time that Katherine was weighing her options, a witch hunt begun in Windsor had brought to the stake members of the royal household. More importantly, a widespread plot was underway aimed at destroying the leading reformer, Archbishop Thomas Cranmer. The intriguers had to tread carefully because the king was always wary of the purge getting too close to the court and his own personal attendants. Katherine, whose own sympathies lay firmly with the reformers, was well aware that, as queen, she would be entering dangerous territory. Several religious radicals looked to Katherine for patronage and were delighted to learn that she was about to become Henry's consort. One of them, Francis Goldsmith, compared her to Esther, the Old Testament Jewish heroine who became queen to the Persian King Ahasuerus and used her position to alleviate the sufferings of her people. It is not all that far-fetched to think of Katherine pondering the question put to Esther, “who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther, 4, 14). The new queen certainly turned out to be a veritable Esther. As David Starkey has pointed out, “Henry's sixth marriage marks a watershed in religious policy” because Katherine was “a woman with a mission”. During the crucial three-and-a-half years the pair were married the balance swung in favour of the reformers. This was not entirely due to Katherine – for example, the plot against Cranmer collapsed largely because the plotters (led by Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester) overplayed their hand. However, without the day-to-day influence of the queen it would have been difficult (perhaps impossible) for the evangelicals of court and council led by Thomas Seymour's brother – Edward, Earl of Hertford – to have gained the controlling influence which proved decisive when Henry died in 1547. Broadly speaking, Katherine's contribution rested on two pillars: she proved herself to be an exemplary consort, and she used every means at her disposal to spread that brand of Christianity that, within a few years, would come to be called 'Protestant'. Katherine Parr as a stepmother In her relations with the king Katherine was young enough to interest him sexually and mature enough to perceive and cater to his other needs. Dressing his suppurating sores can't have been pleasant and diverting his attention from his pain with stimulating conversation must have been mentally taxing. But the queen went further – notably in reconnecting Henry with his children, whom he rarely saw. The future Mary I (who was 28 in 1544), Elizabeth I (11) and Edward VI (7) lived in various royal manors in the home counties. The girls had both been bastardised and were excluded from the court, while Edward, as the sole heir, was kept far away from the plague-ridden capital. Katherine set out to be a means of drawing the royal family together – within a few months she arranged for Henry's children to pay visits to their father and thus provide him with some semblance of the home life he had never had. Extant letters, written between 1544 and 1547, bear witness to a very warm relationship between the royal children and their stepmother. Whether sending a court musician to perform for Mary or correcting the Latin exercises of Edward and Elizabeth, Katherine took a keen interest in their wellbeing. The queen also played a prominent role in state affairs. When Henry was absent on campaign in France between mid-July and late September 1544 he left Katherine to oversee a regency council headed by Cranmer (who was now fully restored to favour). She attended assiduously to her duties, meeting daily with her advisers. And her loyal support for the military adventure was not confined to administrative activities in camera. A remarkable, recently-discovered religious anthem by the leading composer Thomas Tallis was written for a service at St Paul's aimed at uniting the nation behind the invasion. The words were written by Queen Katherine. None of Henry's wives played a more prominent and constructive role in the affairs of court and kingdom than wife number six. Katherine Parr, the author of The Lamentation of a Sinner Katherine's contributions to the spread of her faith was well in excess of that of her predecessors. Not only did she study the Bible and listen to favoured preachers with her ladies in the seclusion of her own chambers; and advance the careers of favoured clergy – all that was common enough. Katherine did something quite novel, something that women at the time simply did not do: she ventured into print. Her first forays, published in 1544 and 1545, were devotional books – prayers and reflections on the Psalms. Then, in 1546, she began an intensely personal testimony, The Lamentation of a Sinner, in which she chronicled her journey from the traditional Catholicism of the pope, the “persecuter of all true Christians”, to the justification by the only faith of which Luther spoke. The Lamentation of a Sinner was not published until after Henry's death in January 1547 and until then Katherine had to be very circumspect about her theology. Why did Henry VIII almost execute Katherine Parr? There was a time in the summer of 1546 when Katherine came within a whisper of being executed for her faith. Bishop Gardiner and his associates were growing increasingly anxious as the end of Henry’s reign drew nigh. Henry was a semi-invalid in constant pain from the festering sores on his legs, and was only able to move with the aid of servants. Everyone knew what no one dared say – that the king's days were numbered. Leading councillors and courtiers were discreetly making plans for the accession of a minor. If the prince's uncle, Edward Seymour, grabbed the reins of power, England would be carried farther along the road of religious reform. Gardiner and his conservative associates needed to prevent that at all costs. Thus a campaign was launched against the queen using a formula that had been well tried in the past. They brought to trial a notoriously outspoken heretic with court connections by the name of Anne Askew, subjected her to fierce and unprecedented torture and promised that her sufferings would end if she would but name members of the royal court (including the queen) who shared her heretical beliefs. Had they succeeded, Henry would probably have sanctioned a thorough search of Katherine's quarters, which might have revealed copies of William Tyndale's English New Testament and other banned books. But Anne did not break under pressure. Katherine was warned of the plot by her physician, Robert Huick, who 'found' a paper revealing the Catholic scheme. Or, perhaps, the discovery was engineered by Henry himself, who never lost his sense of theatre. Either way, the queen hastened to Henry's chamber and threw herself on his mercy, thus enabling him to make a great show of support and affection. For the traditionalists this was the last throw of the dice. Their failure left the advocates of reform in power when the Tudor tyrant eventually breathed his last. Katherine Parr, therefore, holds an important place in the history of the English Reformation. Katherine Parr's life after Henry VIII We may hope that Katherine was aware of this fact and took satisfaction from it, particularly because the brief remainder of her life was decidedly tragic. She was, at last, able to marry her true love, Thomas Seymour, but it did not bring her happiness. The wedding was a clandestine ceremony and one that provoked scandal: the Seymour clan tore itself apart in rivalries and competing ambitions. Thomas, having been granted no place on the regency council, tried to ingratiate himself with the young king and to undermine the influence of his brother, Edward, now Lord Protector and Duke of Somerset. The duke's wife bitterly resented Katherine's presence in the family, seeing it as a challenge to her own pre-eminence. The family feud escalated rapidly. In one letter to her husband Katherine confided about a meeting with her brother-in-law, Protector Somerset: “It was fortunate we were so much distant, for I suppose else I should have bitten him”. But the dowager queen's anger was soon turned against Thomas himself. She had brought the 14-year-old Princess Elizabeth to live with her but Thomas soon began indulging in intimate horseplay with the teenager and the behaviour became more outrageous after Katherine became pregnant at the end of 1547. He would visit Elizabeth, clad only in his nightshirt, and tumble with her on her bed. For a while Katherine was tolerant, even at times joining in the horseplay, but when on one occasion she came upon her husband and her royal ward embracing, she sent Elizabeth away. The death of Katherine Parr On 30 August 1548 Katherine gave birth to a daughter, Mary, but immediately succumbed to puerperal fever. Eight days later Katherine died. In her last moments of consciousness, she accused Thomas of poisoning her. It may well have been the delirium speaking, but Seymour was outrageously ambitious and it is quite possible that he entertained hopes of picking up his relationship with the princess where it had left off. This article was first published by HistoryExtra in September 2018
From service to survival: what happened to the households of Henry VIII’s six wives?
The fates of the six wives of Henry VIII are well known, but what happened to the households of these queens when their mistress was divorced, beheaded, or had died in the midst of their service? James Taffe explores how the king’s marital instability impacted the lives and careers of the men and women who served each of his queens
When, in 1527, King Henry VIII began seeking an annulment from his marriage to his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, it would have far-reaching political, diplomatic and religious repercussions, resulting in England’s schism with the Catholic Church. Catherine herself was banished from court and refused permission to see her daughter, Mary, before her death in 1536. But the separation also had severe consequences for the former queen’s household. The king reportedly “felt himself so much aggrieved at the expense of her allowance”, that “he would not defray her expenses, nor the wages of her servants”. The household was banished along with Catherine, ostracised from king and court, meaning that her servants could no longer hope to gain from the nonmonetary perquisites and rewards accrued in royal service. Richard Wood, Catherine’s page, is said to have “sustained great losses without recompense”. Read more | Catherine of Aragon: Henry's greatest queen The queen’s servants must have feared that their careers were all but over, and few men and women now aspired to serve her. Thomas, Lord Vaux, who had been dispatched by Henry to administer Catherine’s household, remarked in 1533 that he would “rather die in some other of the King’s service than continue here much longer”. Sir Richard Baker refused such an appointment, as he was “loath now to serve anybody but the King” and “hath rather chosen to abide his fortune and so trust unto the King’s gracious goodness than to serve” Catherine. A queen’s household – established before or shortly after she married the king – would be swiftly discharged when she no longer wore the crown. For those who rallied behind Henry’s queens when they had fallen out of favour, they risked incurring the king’s wrath. Both María de Salinas, Lady Willoughby, whom Catherine loved “more than any other mortal”, and Elizabeth Stafford, Duchess of Norfolk, who “spoke too freely, and declared herself more than they liked for the Queen”, were discharged. A question of loyalty: king or queen Confronted with the question of their allegiance, many of the queen’s servants would defy their sovereign and forfeit their careers out of obligation to their mistress. William Mountjoy, Catherine’s lord chamberlain, refused to give up the names of those in her household who had shown themselves loyal to the queen. “It shall not lie in me to accomplish the King’s pleasure herein”, he remarked, begging to be discharged “without the King’s displeasure”. Mountjoy felt that, though Catherine’s servants “never ceased to call her by the name of Queen”, they did “bear their true hearts service and allegiance to the King’s grace”. This was the conflict dealt with by many servants who found themselves in such an unenviable position: anxious not to upset the king, yet not willing to betray their mistress. Watch | In this six-part video series exclusively available to HistoryExtra subscribers, leading Tudor historians delve into the fascinating lives of each of Henry VIII’s iconic queens Shortly after Anne Boleyn was arrested in 1536 on suspicion of committing adultery, the king discharged all of her servants from their offices, and a new queen’s household was established for his third wife, Jane Seymour, within a few weeks. Some owed their appointment to the queen, others to the king, and the rest to their friends at court who could bend the royal ear to speak on their behalf. As a new queen brought with her many of her own servants, those of her predecessor were inevitably displaced. On the day of Anne’s execution, it was reported that “most of the late queen’s servants are set at liberty to seek service elsewhere”; a poem described them as “sheep without a shepherd”. Of course, with Henry marrying six times, the queen’s household had to be discharged, its servants disbanded, and many careers cut short on five occasions from 1527 to his death in 1547. It is difficult to measure the impact of this on the lives of his queens’ servants, as once they were discharged they often disappear from the record. Some retired to their homes, while others continued to seek preferment. Without the queen to speak on their behalf, few of Anne’s kinsmen and women survived the scandal, though one exception was George Taylor, her receiver-general, who, it was observed, was “merry”, for he had been given some assurance of his place. “I trust the King’s Highness will be good and gracious lord unto me”, he remarked, “and so I have a special trust in his Grace.” He was not the only one. It was reported that “the King’s Highness of his goodness hath retained, as is said, some of them” who had served the late queen. Read more | Anne Boleyn’s voice: lost to the past, or louder than ever? Unlike Mountjoy, Anne’s vice-chamberlain, Sir Edward Baynton, abided by the king’s orders and cooperated directly with the Privy Council in the examination of her household in 1536. Tasked with extracting testimony from her servants, he reported that one of her maids, Margery Horsman, frustrated the efforts of the investigation. Baynton struggled to wrest a confession from her, suspecting that there was “great friendship” between mistress and servant. Although Horsman had shown herself reluctant to implicate Anne, she may eventually have turned king’s evidence, as she went on to serve her successor, Jane, as did Baynton. Clearly it was pragmatic to remain, even if only outwardly, loyal to the crown. In need of a patron, or a way out? When the household was reshuffled between queens, a patron, or lack thereof, could be decisive in determining who kept their office, and who did not. John Croft, who had served his cousin Jane, struggled to find a foothold at court for many years after her death in 1537. Wymond Carew, the late queen’s receiver-general, wrote on his behalf to the king’s privy chamber so that he might be appointed as a gentleman waiter (“even without wages”) to Prince Edward, Jane’s son and future Edward VI. “I am bound to do for this gentleman, Mr. Croft, all I can”, Carew began, before reminding them that Croft had served Jane “honestly” and the queen “did favour him well”. Unlike Croft, Jane’s maid-of-honour Anne Basset was promised by Henry that she shall “have her place whensoever the time shall come”. Servants who kept in the king’s favour were strategically well-placed to find preferment not if, but when, he remarried. “I trust we shall have a mistress shortly,” Anne wrote to her mother at the end of 1539, anticipating the arrival of Anne of Cleves, Henry’s fourth wife. Read more | Queens of bling: the importance of jewellery to Henry VIII's six wives Within six months of their marriage, Henry was seeking an annulment, with the contention that his union with Anne had not been consummated. To substantiate this, the king had Eleanor, Countess of Rutland; Jane, Lady Rochford; and Katherine, Lady Edgecombe, of the queen’s privy chamber journey from Richmond to Westminster and sign a deposition relating a conversation with the queen. In that deposition, she is supposed to have remarked, “when he comes to bed he kisses me, and taketh me by the hand, and biddeth me, ‘Good night, sweetheart’: and in the morning kisses me, and biddeth me, ‘Farewell, darling’. Is not this enough?” It was the intimacy of their position as the queen’s servants which saw many of them drawn inexorably into the king’s matrimonial affairs. When Catherine Howard, Henry’s fifth wife, was alleged to have committed adultery in 1541, her chamberers Katherine Tylney, Margaret Morton and Maude Lovekyn, were all questioned “whether the Queen went out of her chamber any night late”. Willingly, or reluctantly, they gave depositions that were incriminating enough to condemn their mistress to death. Sir Thomas Wriothesley, of the king’s council, declared that Tylney “hath done us good service”, indicating that she may have been offered a reprieve for her cooperation. Read more | Did Catherine Howard commit adultery? Morton and Lovekyn were reappointed to serve Henry’s sixth wife, Katherine Parr. Their testimony placed them firmly on the side of the king. Servants of the queen may have rushed with indecent haste to demonstrate their loyalty to Henry, as the treacherous Jane, Lady Rochford, did so often in her career. Yet for her involvement in aiding and abetting the queen’s alleged adultery, she too lost her head. The constancy of the king Investigating the impact of Henry VIII’s marital instability reveals that the fortune, or misfortune, of his queens and their servants were closely aligned. Yet careers in the queen’s household were not inextricably caught up with the fate of their mistress. Henry’s queens came and went, but the king was a constant. In the intervening periods when there was no queen, Henry himself maintained a privileged few of his queens’ servants and kept them at court. When Catherine Howard’s household was discharged at the end of 1541, the Privy Council declared that “order must be also taken with the maidens, that they repair each of them to their friends, there to remain”, further acknowledging that if there were any of the queen’s servants unprovided for that “the King’s Highness should have consideration”. Relationships, both with the queen – their mistress – and with the king – their sovereign – were crucial for building and sustaining a career, but in surviving what Henry’s wives did not, it was their relationship with him that truly mattered. James Taffe is a Tudor historian, specialising in the royal servants in the households of King Henry VIII and his queens. He is the author of Courting Scandal: The Rise and Fall of Jane Boleyn, Lady Rochford
Royal sibling rivalry: Henry VIII, Richard III and other monarchs whose fate was determined by their brothers and sisters
Through history, the role of the second or third royal sibling has not always been easy. Here, historian Sarah Gristwood explores 10 of the most famous – and dysfunctional – royal sibling relationships...
In the bad old days of high infant mortality, any royal family needed an heir and several ‘spares’ – north of the border, James V and his daughter, Mary, Queen of Scots, are just two of the many British monarchs with elder brothers who died in infancy. William the Conqueror left England to his second son, another William, while the eldest son, Robert, inherited Normandy. Since then, the history of these islands has been littered with famous second – or third, or fourth – royal siblings (or, more specifically, royal sons, since gender continued to trump age right into the 21st century), who for better or for worse have done much to shape the monarchy that we know today. Here are 10 of the most famous... Read more | 'Royal Family’: the fly-on-the-wall documentary the Palace doesn’t want you to see Richard I (1157–99) It wasn’t Richard the Lionheart, but his elder brother, Henry, who was crowned ‘the Young King’ of England, unusually during their father’s lifetime. In the event Henry predeceased his father, but perhaps the fact Richard hadn’t been raised for the job explains why the crusader showed so little real enthusiasm for hands-on rule of England, spending only a few months in the country during his 10-year reign. Richard was himself succeeded by his younger brother, John. Fairly or unfairly, King John has gone down in popular history as a disastrous monarch whose reign was epitomised by his losing the crown jewels in the Wash – but he did inadvertently help to give us Magna Carta. Read more | When and how did Richard the Lionheart die? John of Gaunt (1340–99) By contrast to John I, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster – fourth son of the prolific Edward III – has traditionally been accorded a good measure of respect for the steering hand he kept on the country during the minority of his nephew, Richard II. His harsh fiscal policies, however, made him a particular target of the Peasants’ Revolt – while almost as soon as John himself died, Richard II was deposed by John’s exiled son, the Bolingbroke of Shakespeare’s plays, who took the throne as Henry IV. These were the family divisions that, half a century later, would produce the Wars of the Roses. Richard III (1452–85) The best-known casualty of those wars was of course Richard III, whose death at Bosworth ushered in the Tudor dynasty. Richard was only the fourth son of the York family, but by the time he seized the throne the first, second and third sons were all dead – Edmund killed by the Lancastrians, and George, Duke of Clarence (after plotting against Edward) drowned in the famous butt of malmsey. The grounds upon which Richard took the throne in 1483 – chiefly the supposed invalidity of Edward’s marriage to Elizabeth Woodville – are still debated today. So too, of course, is the fate of Edward IV’s sons, the princes in the Tower, and Richard’s role in their possible murder. Either way, Richard – his brother Edward’s most loyal supporter during his lifetime – provides the most dramatic prism through which to examine both the royal sibling bond, and the question of sibling rivalry. Henry VIII (1491–1547) It wasn’t Henry but his elder brother, Arthur, Prince of Wales, who was expected to lead the Tudor dynasty through the 16th century. But Arthur died in 1502 – and if anyone ever forgot that in the glorious early days of Henry VIII’s reign, they had ample cause to remember two decades later, when Henry’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon was endlessly debated, and ultimately declared invalid, on the grounds that she had been his brother Arthur’s widow. Indeed, there has been speculation that Henry’s position as a mere second son – reared with his mother and sisters, while Arthur was sent away to Ludlow – affected his later attitudes, and his infamous marital history. Elizabeth I (1533–1603) Elizabeth was Henry’s second surviving legitimate child; her sister, ‘Bloody’ Mary, Henry’s eldest. But both women accepted that first place in the succession went to their younger brother, Edward VI. After Edward’s premature death in 1553, however, differences between the sisters led to Elizabeth being imprisoned in the Tower, in danger of her life. This was no simple case of sibling rivalry, of course, since religious differences led to real dispute as to whether the Catholic Mary or the Protestant Elizabeth had best claim to the throne. All the same, no one looking for the model of a happy family is ever going to pick the Tudors! Read more | 7 things you (probably) didn’t know about Elizabeth I Charles I (1600–49) When James VI and I’s eldest son, Prince Henry, died in 1612 of what was probably typhoid, shock waves went through the country. At 18, the vibrant Henry was already the great hope of the Stuart dynasty. His brother Charles, by contrast, was a sickly 11-year-old considered unlikely to survive. Perhaps early insecurities left the adult Charles, as a monarch, particularly susceptible both to the influence of his favourite Buckingham [George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham] and his Catholic wife, Henrietta Maria, and to an inflated conception of the monarchy. Elizabeth of Bohemia (1596–1662) It may seem like cheating to list two siblings as separately important, but it’s the descendants of Elizabeth of Bohemia, not of her brother, Charles I, who sit on the British throne today. When Charles I’s eldest surviving son, Charles II, was succeeded by his own younger brother James, the latter’s unpopularity and Catholicism led to his deposition in 1688. The ‘Glorious Revolution’ of that year brought in, instead, James’s Protestant daughter Mary and her husband, William of Orange, while the Catholic descendants of James’s second marriage dwindled to the status of pretenders. Anne (1665–1714) When William and Mary died without children, the crown passed to another younger sibling. Mary’s sister, Anne, came to the throne under the Act of Settlement of 1701, which effectively secured the throne to the Protestant Hanoverian dynasty, since it was already apparent that Anne too was unlikely to bear a surviving child, despite 18 pregnancies. Upon Queen Anne’s death the throne was offered to the Elector of Hanover, a grandson of Elizabeth of Bohemia, who became Britain’s George I. He and his Hanoverian descendants would reign, however, on very different terms from those earlier rulers had enjoyed. The stage was set for a modern, ‘constitutional’, monarchy (a position confirmed more than a century later when George’s great-great grandson William IV – succeeding his elder brother George IV – ceded yet further royal powers). George V (1865–1936) You might think that in the modern age the importance of the royal second sibling is outdated – we are, after all, past the days of high infant mortality. King George V was born the second son of the future Edward VII, but his elder brother, Albert Victor, known as Prince Eddy, died of pneumonia in his twenties, while his grandmother, Queen Victoria, was still on the throne. By that time Eddy had been linked to the Cleveland Street scandal, which involved a homosexual brothel, amid wider concerns over his character and abilities. (He has, however unconvincingly, even been identified as Jack the Ripper). His brother George, by contrast, was a formidable figure who, besides taking on Eddy’s engagement to Princess Mary of Teck in 1917, changed the name of the royal family from Saxe-Coburg-Gotha to Windsor. George VI (1895–1952) The first half of the 20th century saw two second sons accede to the throne – both important in shaping the form of the present monarchy. George V was of course succeeded by his eldest son, Edward VIII, the future Duke of Windsor, but Edward’s reign lasted less than a year, and he was never crowned. When he abdicated in order to marry the divorced Wallis Simpson, his younger brother was forced to step up to the plate. Diffident and reluctant – we’d come a long way from the power-hungry days of the medieval monarchy – George VI nonetheless saw the country through the dark days of Second World War. That example of dutiful service would model an ideal for his daughter, Elizabeth II. This article was first published by HistoryExtra in April 2018
Jane Seymour: the queen Henry VIII loved most?
Jane Seymour was the third of Henry VIII's six wives, and the only one to bear him a son, the future Edward VI. She is the queen who 'died', passing away shortly after giving birth. Explore the story of how Jane Seymour came to Henry's attention, whether she really was meek and demure, and whether Henry really did love her most of all
Often considered demure and passive, Jane possessed a strong vein of moral courage, though we’ll never know if Henry VIII would have eventually tired of her, too. Discover everything you need to know about Jane Seymour, Henry's third wife and mother of the son he desperately wanted with expert historians Elizabeth Norton, Tracy Borman and Alison Weir… Jane Seymour: the story of her life Written by Elizabeth Norton Who was Jane Seymour? Jane Seymour, Henry VIII’s third wife, was born in around 1508. Her kinsman, the courtier Sir Francis Bryan, secured a place for her in the service of Queen Catherine of Aragon. Jane later transferred into the household of Catherine’s successor, Anne Boleyn. By 1535, Jane was in her late twenties, with few marriage prospects. One contemporary considered her to be “no great beauty, so fair that one would call her rather pale than otherwise”. She nonetheless attracted the king’s attention – perhaps when he visited Wolfhall in September 1535. Anne Boleyn blamed her miscarriage, in late January 1536, on the developing relationship, complaining to Henry that she had “caught that abandoned woman Jane sitting on your knees”. The queen and her maid had already come to blows. Jane Seymour facts: 6 things you need to know When was Jane Seymour born? In around 1508 When did Jane Seymour die? 24 October 1537 When was Jane Seymour queen? from 1536 to 1537 Who were Jane Seymour's parents? She was the daughter of Sir John Seymour of Wolfhall ('the real Wolf Hall') in Wiltshire and his wife, Margery Wentworth Who was Jane Seymour's successor as queen? Anne of Cleves, Henry VIII’s fourth wife What is Jane Seymour remember for? Being the only wife to provide Henry with a son and male heir, the future Edward VI Jane's rise to prominence Anne’s failure to bear a son was an opportunity for Jane. When Henry sent her a letter and a purse of gold, she refused them, declaring that “she had no greater riches in the world than her honour, which she would not injure for a thousand deaths”. Henry was smitten with this show of virtue, henceforth insisting on meeting her only with a chaperone. During April they discussed marriage and, on 20 May 1536 – the day after Anne Boleyn’s execution – the couple were betrothed. They married shortly afterwards. Anne Boleyn: a 16th-century feminist? Jane, who took as her motto “bound to obey and serve”, presented herself as meek and obedient. She was, however, instrumental in bringing Henry’s estranged daughter, princess Mary, back to court. The new queen held conservative religious beliefs. This became apparent in October 1536 when she threw herself on her knees before the king at Windsor, begging him to restore the abbeys for fear that the rebellion, known as the Pilgrimage of Grace, was God’s judgment against him. In response, Henry publicly reminded her of the fate of Anne Boleyn, “enough to frighten a woman who is not very secure”. Listen | Bestselling author and historian Alison Weir discusses the life and tragic death of Jane Seymour Jane Seymour's children and death Without a son, Jane was vulnerable, and the postponement of her coronation was ominous. Finally, in March 1537, her pregnancy was announced. Henry was solicitous to his wife, resolving to stay close to her and ordering fat quails from Calais when she desired to eat them. Jane endured a labour of two days and three nights before bearing a son, Edward, at Hampton Court Palace on 12 October, to great rejoicing. She was well enough to appear at the christening on 15 October, lying in an antechamber, wrapped in furs. However, she soon sickened, with her attendants blamed for suffering “her to take great cold and to eat things that her fantasy in sickness called for”. In reality, she was probably suffering from puerperal, or childbed, fever. She died on 24 October. Jane Seymour, as the only one of Henry VIII’s wives to die as queen, received a royal funeral at Windsor. She was later joined there by the king, who requested burial beside the mother of his only surviving son. Her child succeeded as Edward VI, but died at the age of 15. Elizabeth Norton is an author and historian. Her books include The Lives of Tudor Women (Head of Zeus, 2020) This article was first published on History Extra in April 2014 Did Henry VIII love Jane Seymour most of all? Jane Seymour is often described as Henry’s true love, the woman who tragically died after giving the king his longed-for son. Not so, Tudor expert Tracy Borman told BBC History Revealed. She suggests that Henry saw Jane as a traditional and meek woman, and a safe option: “I think Jane’s role has been overplayed," says Borman. "She was the opposite of feisty Anne Boleyn and that’s what Henry wanted. But within weeks of their marriage Henry was commenting that there were more attractive women at court he could have married. It was simply the fact that Jane gave Henry a son that set her above the other wives.” Jane Seymour: the key questions answered Was she the "meek young tool" of her ambitious family and an ardent king? Or was she a "scheming conniver" who plotted to bring down her predecessor, Anne Boleyn? Alison Weir, author of Jane Seymour: The Haunted Queen offers her take on Henry VIII's third wife, Jane Seymour What do we know about Jane Seymour? We can learn about Jane from many sources, notably the letters and papers of Henry VIII, and reports of foreign ambassadors. Then, of course, there are her actions themselves. From all of that, we can deduce quite a lot about her. We can infer that she was a person of some principle, who had the courage to stand up for the things she really cared about. This saw her challenge the king on two notable occasions. Firstly, Jane helped reunite Henry with his eldest daughter, Mary, who had been declared a bastard when Henry divorced her mother, Catherine of Aragon. She had sided with her mother and the old Catholic order, and as the king was pushing through the Reformation, Mary was banished from court. Jane was staunchly Catholic and had served Catherine of Aragon, so she stood up for Mary and persuaded Henry to receive his daughter back into his affections. It’s clear from the sources that Jane’s influence was considerable in this matter. Later on, Jane became aware that there was a groundswell of opinion – particularly in the Catholic north – against Henry’s dissolution of the monasteries. She herself was also grieved to see these ancient institutions closing down. So she went on her knees before the king and begged him to spare the monasteries. This time, however, she received a brutal rebuttal. Henry told her that his last wife had died because she meddled too much in politics and Jane never interfered again. Six Wives: A HistoryExtra podcast series Member exclusive | In this six-part podcast series, we’ll be peeling back the layers of mythmaking to take another look at these fascinating women, who shaped the course of Henry’s reign – and the history of England. Listen to all episodes now Was Jane Seymour passive and demure, as is often believed? As those two incidents show, she certainly had a great deal of moral courage. And she was definitely involved in the faction at court that plotted to bring down her predecessor and former mistress, Anne Boleyn. As a loyal supporter of Catherine of Aragon, Jane probably did not recognise Henry’s marriage to Anne as legitimate, and we know that she agreed to drip-feed criticism of Anne into the king’s ear. However, that doesn’t mean that she actually connived at Anne’s arrest and execution. Jane was probably hoping for Anne and Henry’s marriage to be annulled. I think that Anne’s horrible fate probably came as a surprise to her. How turbulent was the period of English history in which Jane Seymour was married to Henry VIII? Jane’s marriage to Henry really wasn’t that long – less than 18 months, and yet she was witness to some of the most turbulent events of his reign. The couple married in 1536, which was a pivotal year in the Tudor period. As well as seeing Anne’s downfall and execution, it saw the beginning of the dissolution of the monasteries, and an outbreak of plague in London, which both Henry and Jane were horribly afraid of. Then in the autumn, the Pilgrimage of Grace – a major rebellion against the religious upheavals Henry had brought about – broke out in the Catholic north. This was very threatening to the king, who suppressed it with great ruthlessness. Jane lived through all this. What motivated Jane Seymour? Was she interested in power, or pushed to the throne by forces beyond her control? Given Jane’s background, I think she was probably swept along by it all. She was the daughter of a country knight, John Seymour of Wolf Hall in Wiltshire, and was a dutiful, obedient daughter. She had very ambitious brothers, who forged their own paths at court – two eventually ended up on the executioner’s block. Strangely, not much effort seems to have been made to find a husband for her, and by the time she caught the king’s eye, she was heading into her late 20s. I think that his interest in her must have come as something of a surprise, and she was probably overawed by him. Since Jane was known to be quiet and gentle, I think she would have felt she had no choice. Once queen, she would have been very aware of the precariousness of her new position. If you became queen 11 days after the execution of your predecessor and your new husband had a reputation for beheading those who opposed him, I think you’d feel a little trepidation. What was Henry VIII like at this time? By 1536, the king had become a very frustrated, embittered man. He had been denied the one thing he really needed to ensure the security of his kingdom and continuance of his dynasty: a male heir. Aged 45, he had broken with Rome and pushed England to the brink of religious revolution. But ultimately, he had no heir to show for it. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2018/05/BNDP66-96bc941.jpg" width="5616" height="3744" alt="Henry VIII, Jane Seymour and their son – the future Edward VI – sit at the centre of a family portrait" title="Henry, Jane and their son – the future Edward VI – sit at the centre of a family portrait painted in c1545, eight years after Jane's death following childbirth. (Photo by SuperStock / Alamy Stock Photo)" /> The Henry that Jane married was irascible and bad tempered, yet oddly sentimental and increasingly sanctimonious. He was becoming the figure we all recognise from Holbein’s famous imposing portrait. This was a man who was very autocratic – his word was law. His marriage to Jane was the beginning of the decline. A once-great sportsman, he was now suffering from a lasting leg injury, and between 1536 and 1540 he gained 17 inches round the waist. What was Jane Seymour's relationship with Henry VII like? Shortly after their marriage, Henry made a joke that he’d seen two other ladies he preferred, but all the other evidence suggests that he really did love Jane. He certainly pursued her. We have a letter from Henry written in the style of courtly love that was prevalent then, and he does seem to have thought highly of Jane and respected her. It doesn’t seem to have been a passionate, all-consuming love like he shared with Anne, but he was more secretive by this stage and their relationship developed over a much shorter time. In many ways, Jane was appealing to Henry precisely because she was the complete antithesis of Anne. She was a gentle influence and he could find some calm with her. He was certainly consumed by great sorrow after Jane’s death. In a letter to Thomas Cromwell written shortly afterwards, the Duke of Norfolk describes the king as “in great heaviness” during his wife’s sickness. Henry had an almost pathological fear of illness and death, yet he stayed by Jane’s bedside in a desperate state. Afterwards, he shut himself away at Windsor and refused to see anyone, even his ministers. However, I should add that within a month he was “framing his mind” – reluctantly – to think about a fourth marriage. What do you think of the controversial possibility that Jane may have been pregnant at the time of her marriage but had a miscarriage... It’s a theory built on a multitude of fragments of evidence, which I’ve explored in the novel for dramatic purposes. Firstly, the king talked about a prince being “expected in due season”. There was also a long gap between Jane’s marriage and the time that she conceived Edward VI in 1537. A report from the imperial ambassador in Rome claims she was five months gone with child when she married and a slander reported in the English papers claimed that she was “made sure unto the king” [meaning they had slept together] six months before they wed. Whether or not this was true, Anne Boleyn was certainly very wary of Jane when she was queen. Lots of sources tell us that there were scratches and blows between the pair. It was a queen’s privilege to physically chastise her maids, and from what we know about both of their characters, I don’t think it was Jane doing the scratching. You consulted medical experts over Jane Seymour's cause of death – what conclusions did you come to? It’s traditionally been believed that Jane died of puerperal fever following childbirth. She gave the king his son and died 12 days later. But there was something odd about the chronology of the sources, so I took a closer look. I found out that Jane bore Edward on the Friday, but she didn’t fall ill until the Tuesday. There is no mention of fever in the sources, only a “natural lax” – or severe diarrhoea. There was a report that suggested that those around her “suffered her to take great cold” and gave her unsuitable foods. That doesn’t sound like puerperal fever. So I went on Facebook to ask whether anyone knew any doctors. I ran all the sources past a long-term critical care nurse, three doctors and a midwife. On the evidence we have, it sounds as if Jane died of a pulmonary embolism [the blockage of an artery in the lungs]. We considered all sorts of theories, and the consensus was that this was the likeliest scenario. How should we look back on Jane Seymour? If Jane or her son, King Edward VI, had lived longer, I think her reputation would be greater and she may well have been hailed as a great Tudor matriarch. I think we should look back on her as not just a sly little minx, or a pasty-faced little yes girl, or the bitch that brought down Anne Boleyn. We need to see her as a more rounded personality, who was more proactive than she’s been made out. More from us HistoryExtra members can explore this topic further with exclusive content from our archives “Margaret Beaufort wielded enormous power. She was a queen in all but name”: Nicola Tallis on the mother of the Tudors Alternate history: what if Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon’s first son had lived? A bestselling historian and historical novelist, Alison Weir specialises in England’s Tudor and medieval royalty. She is the author of Jane Seymour: The Haunted Queen, the third book in her Six Tudor Queens series This article was first published in the June 2018 edition of BBC History Magazine
The final days of Anne Boleyn: why did she die?
On 19 May 1536, Queen Anne Boleyn, second wife of King Henry VIII, was executed by beheading within the confines of the Tower of London. She’d been queen for just three years. Here, Claire Ridgway, creator of The Anne Boleyn Files website, considers Anne’s final moments and reveals how the valiant queen was said to have had “much joy and pleasure in death”
Anne Boleyn, Henry VIII's second wife, was found guilty of high treason by a jury of her peers in the king’s hall at the Tower on 15 May 1536. She was executed by decapitation on 19 May 1536 – and is thought to have been around 35 years old at the time. Queen Anne had been charged with having sexual relationships with five courtiers, including her brother, George Boleyn (aka Lord Rochford), and the king’s good friend and groom of the stool, Sir Henry Norris. According to the indictments, not only had she slept with these men (as a result of her “frail and carnal appetites”), but she had also conspired with them to kill her husband, the king. The dates of her alleged crimes ran from October 1533 to January 1536, but, as the late historian Eric Ives has pointed out, three-quarters of the dates mentioned in the indictments do not make sense for either Anne or the accused man; Anne was not present at the places at the times stated. For example, in October 1533, when Anne was accused of “procuring” Sir Henry Norris to “violate” her at Westminster, Anne was still confined to her chambers at Greenwich after the birth of her daughter, the future Elizabeth I. In 1535, when she was supposed to have been seducing Mark Smeaton at Greenwich, the queen was actually at Richmond. The charges were nonsensical, but if any doubt had been cast on these dates, then this was covered by the addition of “divers [diverse] days before and since” and “several times before and after” in the indictments. Why was Anne Boleyn executed? The majority of modern historians believe that Anne Boleyn was an innocent woman framed: either by her husband, Henry VIII, who was intent on moving onto a new wife with whom he hoped to have a surviving male heir; or by his loyal servant, Thomas Cromwell, who devised the case against Anne to remove a threat and an obstacle to his plans. Anne disagreed with Cromwell’s plans for the monasteries and her pro-French stance on diplomacy was a problem when Cromwell wanted an alliance with the Holy Roman Empire. Anne’s almoner had attacked Cromwell and the advice he was giving the king in a sermon preached in the presence of the king. Six Wives: A HistoryExtra podcast series Member exclusive | In this six-part podcast series, we’ll be peeling back the layers of mythmaking to take another look at these fascinating women, who shaped the course of Henry’s reign – and the history of England. Listen to all episodes now In Tudor law, defendants were presumed guilty until proven innocent (the burden of proof was on the accused to prove their innocence) and defendants were often unaware of the exact charges and the evidence being used against them before the trial, so it was incredibly difficult for them to defend themselves properly. The jury also knew what was expected of them in a case of high treason, a case of six people conspiring to kill God’s anointed sovereign. Anne; her brother George Boleyn, Lord Rochford; Sir Henry Norris, groom of the stool; courtiers Sir Francis Weston and William Brereton; and musician Mark Smeaton had little hope of justice. Imperial ambassador Eustace Chapuys, in his dispatch regarding the trial of four of the men, wrote that they “were condemned upon presumption and certain indications, without valid proof or confession”. No witnesses were produced against Anne and her brother either, and they defended themselves admirably, with George being described as replying “so well” to the charges “that several of those present wagered 10 to 1 that he would be acquitted”. It was no good, though. All were found guilty and condemned to death. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2019/06/GettyImages-51242215-5a7e0db.jpg" width="2500" height="3426" alt="An illustration depicting Anne Boleyn raising her arms in despair upon being sentenced to death for high treason. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)" title="An illustration depicting Anne Boleyn raising her arms in despair upon being sentenced to death for high treason. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)" /> How did Anne Boleyn die? The men were sentenced to being hanged, drawn and quartered, but the king in his ‘mercy’ commuted their sentences to beheading. Anne was sentenced to burning or beheading “as the King’s pleasure shall be further known of the same”. Nevertheless, the Hangman of Calais, who was renowned for his skill at beheading by sword, was sent for, possibly before Anne had even been found guilty. George Boleyn, Sir Henry Norris, Sir Francis Weston, William Brereton and Mark Smeaton were all executed on Tower Hill on 17 May 1536. Poet Sir Thomas Wyatt, who was imprisoned in the Tower at the time, wrote of witnessing their executions from the Bell Tower, a sight “That in my head sticks day and night”. In his poem, he wrote of how those “bloody days” had broken his heart and also of his recognition of how Tudor justice worked: “By proof, I say, there did I learn: Wit helpeth not defence too yern, Of innocency to plead or prate.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2019/06/GettyImages-463992653-d09d4f0.jpg" width="5524" height="3159" alt="An illustration of the Tower of London, c1543, taken from 'A Short History of the English People' by John Richard Green (1893). (Photo by The Print Collector/Print Collector/Getty Images)" title="An illustration of the Tower of London, c1543, taken from 'A Short History of the English People' by John Richard Green (1893). (Photo by The Print Collector/Print Collector/Getty Images)" /> On the very same day, Archbishop Thomas Cranmer declared the annulment of the marriage of Anne and Henry VIII. Anne’s execution was scheduled for 18 May, and work began on a new scaffold to be built “before the House of Ordnance” at the Tower of London, between the White Tower and what is now the Waterloo Block (home to the Crown Jewels) – not where the present glass memorial can be found on Tower Green, which commemorates all those executed within the tower walls. Anne prepared herself to die that day, making her last confession and celebrating the Mass in front of Sir William Kingston, constable of the Tower of London. Chapuys reported to Holy Roman Emperor Charles V “that before and after her receiving the Holy Sacrament, she affirmed, on peril of her soul's damnation, that she had not misconducted herself so far as her husband the King was concerned”. But Anne’s execution was postponed when Sir William Kingston received orders from Thomas Cromwell to clear the Tower of “strangers”, i.e. foreign diplomats who would include their accounts of the execution of a queen of England in dispatches to their masters and mistresses. Cromwell and the king would not want sympathy stirred for Anne or for Henry VIII to appear the villain. The way Anne handled herself in her final hours, and the way she comforted her ladies and joked about her “little neck”, led Kingston to report that the queen had “much joy and pleasure in death”. Dressed for death On the morning of 19 May 1536, Sir William Kingston escorted Anne Boleyn from her apartments in the Tower’s royal palace – the same apartments where she had stayed before her coronation in 1533 – to the scaffold. Anne had taken care with her appearance: the ermine trim on her outfit confirmed her status; her kirtle was crimson, the colour of martyrdom; and her hood was the traditional English gable hood, that cumbersome head-dress that resembled the gable of a house and which covered the wearer’s hair (rather than the more fashionable French hood, which showed some hair). <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2019/06/GettyImages-815203060-499a6ec.jpg" width="3883" height="2295" alt="An illustration of Anne Boleyn kneeling on the scaffold before the executioner holding an axe. She was in fact executed with a sword. (Photo by Photo 12/UIG via Getty Images)" title="An illustration of Anne Boleyn kneeling on the scaffold before the executioner holding an axe. She was in fact executed with a sword. (Photo by Photo 12/UIG via Getty Images)" /> On the scaffold, Anne made a simple speech, sticking to execution protocol: “Good Christian people, I have not come here to preach a sermon; I have come here to die. For according to the law and by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. I am come hither to accuse no man, nor to speak of that whereof I am accused and condemned to die, but I pray God save the King and send him long to reign over you, for a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never, and to me he was ever a good, a gentle, and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle of my cause, I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me.” The executioner beheaded the queen with one stroke of his sword and then her distressed ladies wrapped Anne’s remains in white cloth and carried them to the nearby Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula. Nobody had thought to provide a coffin for her burial, so a yeoman warder had to fetch an old elm chest, which had once contained bow staves, from the Tower armoury. Anne’s head and body were placed in the chest and buried in the chancel near to the remains of her brother, Lord Rochford. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2019/06/BMC54A-8d166e4.jpg" width="5119" height="3400" alt="The Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, the parish church of the Tower of London, where Anne Boleyn is buried. (Photo by Peter Carroll/Alamy Stock Photo)" title="The Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, the parish church of the Tower of London, where Anne Boleyn is buried. (Photo by Peter Carroll/Alamy Stock Photo)" /> Where is Anne Boleyn’s buried? In 1876, restoration work was carried out on the chapel. The chancel floor was found to be sinking, and so the remains buried there were carefully exhumed. The Victorian team used the Tower records to identify the burial spots and the persons buried. In the spot recorded as being the resting place of Queen Anne Boleyn, the team found the bones of a female. Dr Frederic Mouat confirmed that they belonged to “a female of between twenty-five and thirty years of age, of a delicate frame of body, and who had been of slender and perfect proportions”. Read more | The surprising place where Henry VIII is buried The Victorian team did not doubt that they had found Anne Boleyn, particularly as they then found the remains of two men close by, believed to have been the Dukes of Somerset and Northumberland, who were recorded as lying between Queens Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard. After careful examination, Anne’s remains were put in a leaden coffer inside an oak box bearing a leaden escutcheon [emblem] inscribed with her name, date of death, and the year of reinterment (1877). The box was buried in the spot where Anne had been found, at four inches below the surface, and the earth was filled in before a layer of concrete was spread over the top. A special decorative memorial tile bearing Anne’s coat of arms, her name and title – “Queen Anne Boleyn” – and year of death, was laid to mark the spot. Read more | What did Elizabeth I think of her mother, Anne Boleyn? Every year on 19 May, the anniversary of her execution, a basket of roses is delivered and laid on Queen Anne Boleyn’s memorial tile. It is not known exactly who is responsible for sending it and the card with it reads simply “Queen Anne Boleyn, 19th of May 1536”. Floral tributes from visitors to the Tower are also laid on the tile and the glass memorial on Tower Green which remembers all those executed within the Tower walls. Words etched on the memorial, written by the sculptor, Brian Catling, read: “Gentle visitor pause a while, where you stand death cut away the light of many days. Here jewelled names were broken from the vivid thread of life. May they rest in peace while we walk the generations around their strife and courage, under these restless skies.” More from us HistoryExtra members can explore this topic further with exclusive content from our archives Anne Boleyn's fatal French connection Alternate history: what if Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon’s first son had lived? Not a HistoryExtra member? Explore our latest membership offers Claire Ridgway runs the popular website The Anne Boleyn Files and is author of The Fall of Anne Boleyn: A Countdown (MadeGlobal Publishing, 2012) and George Boleyn: Tudor Poet, Courtier and Diplomat (MadeGlobal Publishing, 2014).