Home of Britain’s bestselling history magazine and award-winning podcast
Medieval warhorses: 5 moments horsepower changed the course of history
From William the Conqueror’s battle-winning cavalry to Richard III’s fatal final charge, Oliver H Creighton and Robert Liddiard explore five moments when horsepower changed the course of medieval history
1. 1066 and all that Horses were involved in King Harold’s defeat at Hastings – but also in the demise of his Norman conqueror It’s one of the most famous of all medieval images. Harold II stands upon the battlefield at Hastings, desperately grasping at an arrow lodged in his eye. This incident – depicted in the Bayeux Tapestry – is credited with ending the English king’s life and extinguishing centuries of Anglo-Saxon rule. Yet look to the right of Harold and you’ll find an image that arguably goes even further in explaining his defeat: it depicts a sword-wielding warrior mounted upon a horse. The Norman conquest of England in 1066 was an era-defining event – and its centrepiece was the battle of Hastings. That clash is graphically represented on the Bayeux Tapestry, most memorably in the image of mounted Norman knights charging the line of Anglo-Saxon warriors on foot. It’s a powerful rendition of horses making history – and for William, Duke of Normandy, those animals proved critical in securing his victory. William began the day of the pivotal action, 14 October, by ordering reconnaissance missions, receiving intelligence from returning mounted scouts on the whereabouts of Harold’s forces. When the two armies later closed in to do battle, the Bayeux Tapestry shows us, the duke mounted his warhorse and exhorted his knights to “prepare themselves manfully and wisely” as they cantered towards the forthcoming engagement. During the nine-hour struggle, William was in the thick of the fighting – and two, or possibly three, of his horses were killed beneath him. The crucial part of the battle came when a rumour spread among the Normans that their commander had been killed. The duke hurriedly rode among his now-fleeing troops, his helmet raised to prove that he was alive, so preventing a rout. At this key moment it was the mobility provided by his mount that allowed William to be in the right place at the right time, averting disaster (for him). Despite the oft-repeated tale of the ‘arrow in the eye’, Harold’s death probably came after a group of mounted Norman knights broke through his bodyguard and cut him down. On this most dramatic of days, it was the horse that was William’s enabler – for intelligence-gathering, command and control, helping save his army from defeat by allowing him to visibly lead from the front. Yet though the horse helped cement the success of the Conqueror’s military career, it also played a part in its end. In 1087, the now-overweight William was characteristically urging on his troops as they set fire to the town of Mantes in France when his horse jumped a ditch – and “his stomach projected over the forward part of the saddle”, resulting in the rupture of the king’s internal organs. He died of his injuries some weeks later, his otherwise anonymous horse an unwitting participant in the death of one of England’s greatest warrior kings. 2. The Bruce's canny cavalry gambit Faced with a mighty English mounted army, the Scottish king used both horsemanship and cunning strategy to rout the invaders Robert the Bruce’s famous victory at the battle of Bannockburn, fought over two bloody days on 23–24 June 1314, was a landmark in the history of the British Isles, paving the way for Scottish independence from English rule. That outcome hinged on the inability of the English to effectively use their heavy cavalry in the face of tactics masterminded by the Scottish king. Edward II had invaded Scotland with a vast army, aiming to raise the siege of the strategically vital castle of Stirling. The core of his army comprised men at arms – professional soldiers, knights and nobles – on warhorses that were the embodiment of English military power. Heavily armoured and emblazoned with arms, these were elite steeds, expensively bred and trained in a royal stud network. The English army of around 13,000 substantially outnumbered Robert’s force of perhaps 6,000. A prelude to the battle known to every Scottish schoolchild proved an ill omen for the English. In a scene echoing the age-old clash of military champions in single combat, on the first day of action the English knight Sir Henry de Bohun spotted Robert the Bruce in front of his troops, and aimed to strike a decisive early blow by charging at the Scottish leader on his warhorse, lance in hand. Mounted on a smaller and more nimble mount, Robert skilfully manoeuvred to dodge his opponent and, standing up in his stirrups, in the words of the epic medieval poem The Brus, “Struck him such a great blow, That neither hat or helmet could stop”, cleaving Sir Henry’s “head to the brains” and smashing his battleaxe in the process. In preparation for the main action the following day, the Scots devised tactics to negate English cavalry strength. They chose for the battlefield a site where heavy horsemen could not operate easily – the area was marshy and intersected by a network of streams – and pockmarked the landscape with a minefield-like network of covered pits or ‘pots’ designed to trap horses. Fighting in compact formations known as schiltrons, the Bruce’s pike-armed foot soldiers were able to resist the disordered attacks of the English cavalry, which eventually disintegrated and broke. As King Edward was led away from the field towards the security of Stirling, Scottish soldiers were able to get close enough to grab at the caparison (cloth covering) of his horse, which was wounded beneath him, forcing the king to remount in his humiliating flight. 3. Under his dead body English rule in France was brought to a violent end when a renowned commander became trapped beneath the corpse of his own horse In the summer of 1453, with the tide of the Hundred Years’ War having turned in France’s favour, the veteran English commander Sir John Talbot, 1st Earl of Shrewsbury, found himself at the head of an army attempting to relieve the beleaguered garrison at Castillon in Aquitaine. His target was the besieging French army’s fortified encampment outside the town and, encouraged by dust clouds from what he believed were retreating soldiers, he ordered his own troops to attack. Talbot was the only Englishman to remain mounted – on a white riding horse – and went into battle without armour, honouring a vow he had made to the French king while a prisoner some years earlier. It soon transpired, though, that the French were not retreating – in fact, the dust had simply been raised by horses leaving the camp – and that Talbot’s men were facing the whole French army, dug in behind their fortifications and ready to fire more than 200 guns. Talbot, against the advice of some of his subordinates, pressed on with the assault, possibly because he believed that “his name alone would cause the enemy to flee”. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/08/2AYGJ83-eae7084.jpg" width="1772" height="1181" alt="A brightly coloured image depicting a war scene. Many men, all dressed in armour and carrying spears and guns are attacking each other in a large group. One man is trapped under a white horse that has fallen down" title="A 15th-century illustration depicts the death of English commander John Talbot (bottom left), trapped under a stricken horse at the 1453 battle of Castillon (Image by Alamy)" /> What followed was a disaster for his forces: they were cut down by swathes of cannon fire, with every shot from the French artillery taking out up to six English soldiers. After two hours of fighting, the English army was attacked in the flank by a group of Bretons – and, as Talbot sought to deal with the threat, the whole French army sallied out from their camp to complete the rout. While attempting to steady his retreating forces, Talbot’s horse was struck by a cannonball. As the earl lay powerless beneath his steed, a French soldier dispatched him with an axe blow. Talbot’s smashed body was identified by his herald the following day, the telltale feature being a missing tooth in his lower jaw. An examination of his skeleton in the 19th century found evidence of a 7 x 1.6cm hole in his skull, confirming the violent manner of his death. Though described by his adversaries at the time as France’s “dread and terror”, the old earl was held in such respect by the French commanders that they founded a chapel on the spot where he had been killed – a fitting tribute to a veteran campaigner of the chivalric age. His horse received no such monument, though it had played a vital part in the first battle in which artillery proved to be the decisive weapon – and which was also the clash that ultimately led to the end of English rule in France. 4. Did a lost horse doom a dynasty? As the battle of Bosworth raged, Richard III launched a cavalry charge at Henry Tudor but ended up losing the throne – and his life “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!” Richard III’s final words before his death at the battle of Bosworth, as imagined by Shakespeare, have a special place in English memory. Tudor propaganda has, famously, coloured popular views of that king’s character and reign, but we have a good understanding of the demise of England’s last Yorkist king – and it was an event in which horses played a central role, if not quite as portrayed by Shakespeare. On 22 August 1485, Richard’s army clashed with the forces of Henry Tudor in the Leicestershire countryside in what’s often considered to have been the final battle in the Wars of the Roses. Following an infantry engagement between the vanguards of the opposing forces, Richard – spotting that his rival was protected by only a small lifeguard – mounted a heavy cavalry charge at Henry. This was not necessarily the desperate act of a doomed monarch, as has been argued; it could have been a carefully calculated attempted decapitation of the rebel leader that would end the battle there and then. In the words of the prime Tudor source for the battle, Polydore Vergil, the king “strick his horse with the spurres” and charged, accompanied by a small body of capable and loyal knights. The gambit almost succeeded: Henry’s standard bearer was killed in the melee, but the charge was stopped and driven towards a marshy area. Richard’s actions were all the more remarkable given that previous battles in the Wars of the Roses had seen little in the way of cavalry action; most of the clashes had been brutal slugfests in which leaders as well as soldiers fought mainly on foot. The king’s attack ultimately proved to be a brief last hurrah for the fabled heavy cavalry charge by medieval knights. The grim reality of exactly how Richard met his end has become clearer since his remains, discovered beneath a Leicester car park in 2012, were subjected to scientific analysis. The concentration of multiple wounds on his head shows that he wasn’t wearing a helmet, and must have been dismounted when he suffered these blows. This accords with the account of Molinet, the only contemporary source detailing Richard’s final moments, who said that the king was killed by a Welsh halberdier after his horse became stuck in marshy ground. In a final indignity, Richard’s dead, naked body was hung over a horse to be taken back to Leicester for burial. A wound through the buttocks, revealed by analysis of the skeleton, suggests this was when a “humiliation injury” was inflicted on the royal corpse. What might have happened had Richard’s cavalry charge broken through and killed Henry Tudor? This is one of the great ‘what ifs’ of English history. In the event, that failure of horse-powered warfare proved the turning point of the battle that heralded the end of the Middle Ages – and tipped England into a new Tudor future. 5. How the mighty have fallen When Henry VIII took a tumble during a joust, he suffered an injury that may have transformed the Tudor dynasty Bosworth may have witnessed the last hurrah for the mounted knight charging across the battlefield, but the knightly tournament lost none of its importance. It remained the pre-eminent vehicle for displays of aristocratic masculinity well into the 16th century. Henry VIII took particular enjoyment in jousting, and constructed a series of purpose-built tiltyards at his lavish homes. It was at his palace and equestrian centre at Greenwich on 24 January 1536 that the 44-year-old Henry suffered a famous accident while jousting with his courtier and friend Sir Henry Norris. During a tilt, Henry’s lance hit Norris’s saddle – and the force of the impact toppled the king from his own saddle, with his horse landing on top of him. Some accounts detailing the severity of Henry’s injuries state that he was knocked unconscious for two hours. Others glossed over the episode, but there seems little doubt that the incident was serious. At the very least, the fall seems to have opened up an older leg injury that plagued the king for the rest of his life, and which also curtailed his ability to take part in hunting. Certainly, Henry never jousted again, and historians have speculated that this accident sparked a turning point in his reign and character. Over the years that followed, the once-athletic king became an increasingly unhealthy, unpredictable and despotic tyrant. While the horse in question may not have been wholly responsible for a sea change in the personality of the king, it may unwittingly have had a hand in the royal succession. Not long after Henry’s fall, Anne Boleyn miscarried his unborn son – a misfortune that, the queen and others believed, had been brought on by worry following the king’s accident. The exact cause of that tragic episode remains unknowable, of course – but if the pregnancy had gone to full term, and if Anne had given birth to a male heir, then the history of the Tudor dynasty could have been very different. Oliver H Creighton is professor of archaeology at the University of Exeter. Robert Liddiard is professor of history at the University of East Anglia. They are co-editors of Medieval Warhorse: Equestrian Landscapes, Material Culture and Zooarchaeology in Britain, AD 800–1550 (Liverpool University Press, 2025) This article was first published in the August 2025 issue of BBC History Magazine
Was JFK about to be re-elected? An expert weighs in on the president's lost second term
Historian Mark White explores whether John F Kennedy would have defeated Barry Goldwater in 1964 – and how his second term might have changed history
On 22 November 1963, President John F Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas. At the time of his death, Kennedy had served fewer than three years as president, but within US politics, he was a figure who already loomed large, his reputation forged by savvy political instincts, his carefully formulated image, and his demonstrable grit as a statesman during the escalations of the Cold War. On that day in Dallas, it’s easy to suppose that Kennedy may have felt justifiably confident about the prospect of the 1964 election that loomed on the horizon. But would the president truly have been re-elected in a landslide? What would a second term have looked like? And how might the USA – and the world – have changed if he had lived? On the podcast | JFK: the man behind the myths “I think Kennedy […] would've beaten his opponent Barry Goldwater comfortably,” says historian Mark White, speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast. “He averaged 70% approval ratings,” which was “the highest of any president in modern recorded history.” A likely second term Heading into the 1964 presidential electoral campaign, Kennedy remained hugely popular. In particular, his handling of international crises had bolstered his image as a steady foreign policy leader – a necessary thing in the burgeoning nuclear age. Though his legislative progress domestically was widely perceived to be slower, his youthful energy and rhetorical appeal had galvanised much of the electorate, allowing them to be patient with the president’s initiatives. In contrast, his likely Republican challenger, Barry Goldwater, was a hardline conservative senator from Arizona whose campaign would later mark a sharp rightward shift in Republican politics. Goldwater opposed the Civil Rights Act, advocated for the use of tactical nuclear weapons, and promoted a minimal federal government – a platform that alienated many moderate voters (the kinds of voters that Richard Nixon had wooed in his hotly contested 1960 election battle against Kennedy, and would win over again in his successful 1968 campaign). “[Goldwater] was seen as extreme,” White explains. “Kennedy wouldn’t have had to be particularly aggressive – Goldwater’s positions would have disqualified him in the minds of many voters.” In reality, after Kennedy’s death, Lyndon B Johnson won the 1964 election in a landslide against Goldwater – taking 61% of the popular vote, and all but six states. But White is confident JFK would have enjoyed similar, if not greater, success. “I think we can safely assume that John Kennedy would've been president till January 1969.” A different path on Vietnam? One of the most fervently debated questions surrounding Kennedy’s unfinished presidency is whether he would have escalated the Vietnam War – as Johnson did after 1964. “I think it's most likely he would not have [furthered] the war in Vietnam,” White says. “He already had a fantastic reputation as a foreign policy president,” thanks to his successful diplomacy in handling the Cuban Missile Crisis. Unlike Johnson, White suggests, Kennedy “didn't really need to prove himself.” The Cuban Missile Crisis: World on the Brink Member exclusive | In this HistoryExtra podcast series, we explore the roots of the Cold War standoff and meet the key players in the confrontation. We track the pivotal 13 days at its centre, and the Cold War alliances that saw diplomatic tensions escalate to breaking point Listen to all episodes now Crucially, White points to Kennedy’s growing caution when dealing with the military’s most aggressive advisers. “He became increasingly sceptical of the generals because he noticed they always gave him very hawkish advice,” he notes. “I think he would've been far more able than Johnson was […] to have rejected that advice.” While Kennedy had increased US involvement in Vietnam during his first term, White believes his instincts were moving toward disengagement – or, at the very least, a more cautious path than the one Johnson ultimately took. Domestic ambition – with limits On the domestic front, Kennedy’s second term might have brought real – but more restrained – reform. “He likely would have passed civil rights legislation, in my view,” White says, citing the bill that Kennedy introduced to end segregation in the South. “But I think he had a less radical conception of domestic reform than Lyndon Johnson.” Johnson, Kennedy’s Vice President who succeeded the assassinated leader and sought to honour his legacy, launched the Great Society programme – a sweeping set of social reforms that included Medicare, Medicaid, and a historic expansion of federal anti-poverty initiatives. Kennedy, by contrast, was a more incrementalist politician. The legacy that never was What’s perhaps most fascinating about Kennedy’s lost second term is how it might have reshaped the longer arc of American politics. “Would he have preserved the liberal consensus longer than Johnson was able to? That’s a really interesting question,” White reflects. The 1960s marked a turning point in US political life. The liberal order built under Franklin D Roosevelt – one defined by broad federal powers and expansive social policy – began to fracture under the weight of war, unrest, and growing conservative backlash. Read more | Did Ronald Reagan 'Make America Great Again'? Goldwater’s candidacy, though unsuccessful, laid the groundwork for the resurgence of Richard Nixon, the later rise of Ronald Reagan and the rightward tilt of American politics. Ultimately, John F Kennedy’s time in office ended neither with a noble bowing out at the culmination of a second term, nor with political defeat, but with bloody violence. Mark White is a professor of history at Queen Mary, University of London, and the author of Icon, Libertine, Leader (Bloomsbury Academic, 2024). He was speaking to Elinor Evans on the HistoryExtra podcast, listen to the full conversation
What if Hitler hadn't sent the Wehrmacht into the Soviet Union?
Professor Evan Mawdsley tells Nige Tassell about the direction that World War II may have taken had the Nazis not turned eastwards
The largest military offensive in history, Operation Barbarossa – which lasted from 22 June 1941 until 7 January – proved disastrous for Adolf Hitler and arguably signalled the beginning of his decline from power. Germany suffered more than 750,000 casualties. It was a game-changer. The course of the war altered, ending in Germany's defeat. But what would have happened had Hitler not sent the Wehrmacht, the nation’s unified armed forces, eastwards? Read more | Operation Barbarossa: why Hitler’s invasion of the Soviet Union was his greatest mistake "The only military alternative to invading the Soviet Union would have been to knock Britain out of the war." That's the view of Evan Mawdsley, honorary professorial research fellow in the School of Humanities at the University of Glasgow and author of many books on World War II, including Thunder in the East: the Nazi-Soviet War, 1941-1945 (Bloomsbury, 2015). In context In the early summer of 1941, Germany launched Operation Barbarossa, a huge invasion of the Soviet Union. The idea behind the operation was not only to diminish, and possibly demolish, Communist ideology in Europe, but also to create Lebensraum – or ‘living space’ – to which Germans could be relocated and from where the German way of life, as defined by Nazi rule, could be protected and advanced. But the campaign was a complete disaster for Hitler, a terrible miscalculation of how easy he thought the invasion would be. It is estimated that around 200,000 German soldiers lost their lives during Barbarossa’s deeply bloody six months. “Of course, Hitler could have settled for the stunning successes of 1938–1940, which gave ‘Greater Germany’ control over western and central continental Europe, from the Pyrenees to the Vistula River in Poland, and from Norway to the Alps. There was also an alliance with Italy, and compliance from a right-wing government of occupied France. But Hitler was in a hurry. He wanted to keep the initiative and stay in control of events. Seeking peace Had he refocused his attentions on Britain rather than the Soviet Union, Hitler had two options. One route was diplomacy, applying pressure on London to accept Nazi control of such a large swathe of Europe. Professor Mawdsley explains that such an approach might not have fallen on deaf ears in Westminster. "There were some politicians in Britain who would have accepted the German political domination of continental Europe in exchange for peace and German acceptance of the status quo as far as the British empire was concerned.” Hitler’s other option would have been to engage Britain in direct combat, a path that was an uneasy one. “Britain was not a second-rate power. It had the potential to fight Germany and blockade continental Europe, especially if supported by the United States. Plus, it would have taken a long time to build a navy powerful enough to compete with that of Great Britain." Read more | The eastern front in WW2: how it all went wrong for the Germans Hitler could also have affected Britain by directing his military resources not eastwards but further south, specifically around the Mediterranean rim, be it Spain, North Africa or the Middle East. The cooperation of Spain – officially neutral although General Franco shared an ideological outlook with both Hitler and Mussolini – could have allowed Hitler access to secure Gibraltar and thus deny the passage of British armaments and personnel to North Africa. But this would have made Spain, still recovering from the effects of its civil war, susceptible to British counter-attacks. A constant threat Had Hitler engaged Britain, or concentrated the Wehrmacht’s efforts away from any eastern front, there was always the danger of what the Soviets might do while the Nazis’ backs were turned. The Soviet Union always represented a threat, what Professor Mawdsley calls “a potential enemy looming in the background”. Had Hitler delayed in invading the Soviet Union, the stronger that Stalin’s continually rearming forces could become. Although Professor Mawdsley doesn’t see them as sufficiently capable of conquering central Europe in 1941 or 1942, he could envisage such a scenario a little further down the line. The longer Hitler delayed in launching Operation Barbarossa, the stronger the chance that Stalin might authorise a pre-emptive invasion of his own. Had this occurred, it's unclear how long the war may have ended up lasting. It could all have been over before 1945, or it might have dragged on well beyond. Did you know? Operation Barbarossa was named after the 12th-century Holy Roman emperor Frederick Barbarossa, who - according to legend - remained asleep inside a cave along with his knights, waiting to restore Germany to ancient greatness Had Stalin invaded and defeated the Nazis, would he have been content with stopping there, with just ridding the world of Hitler? Or might he have launched his own expansionist plans, with the Iron Curtain ultimately falling somewhat further west than it eventually did during the Cold War? If so, what would have been the reaction from Washington? “This is getting really interesting, but a little too hypothetical,” cautions Professor Mawdsley, noting the idea of a rearmed Soviet Union being quite that powerful, that rampant, to be a little fanciful. After all, until they became bogged down in that particular Soviet winter, the Wehrmacht were pretty formidable, having conquered so much of the European mainland, as Professor Mawdsley concludes. “Could the Red Army really have defeated Germany in a war without help from the British and the Americans?” Evan Mawdsley is honorary professorial research fellow in the School of Humanities at the University of Glasgow and author of many books on World War II, including Thunder in the East: the Nazi-Soviet War, 1941-1945 (Bloomsbury, 2015)
Dr David Clarke investigates the conspiracy theory that says the US government has been hiding the existence of alien life from us all
In July 1947, some unusual debris was discovered at Roswell Army Air Field in New Mexico. Was this the remains of a crashed military balloon, or something from much, much further away? Has the US government spent the past 75 years hiding proof of alien life from us all? In this new bonus episode of Conspiracy (exclusively for HistoryExtra Plus subscribers), Dr David Carke gives Rob Attar the lowdown about the Roswell Incident and considers how it relates to the long history of UFO sightings. View Green Video on the source website
Tudor historian Tracy Borman explores the conspiracy theory that the future Elizabeth I had been replaced by a young boy in her childhood
In her most famous speech, delivered on 9 August 1588, Queen Elizabeth I declared that she had the "heart and stomach of a king". Was that just rhetoric? Or could England’s iconic Tudor queen actually have been a man masquerading as a woman? In this new episode of Conspiracy, Tudor historian Tracy Borman speaks to Rob Attar about the bizarre 'Bisley Boy' conspiracy theory that was popularised by none other than Dracula author Bram Stoker. View Green Video on the source website
Investigative journalist Gerald Posner examines some of the many conspiracy theories surrounding the murder of the American president
On the 22 November 1963, President John F Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas. Lee Harvey Oswald was arrested and charged with the murder, but over the past 60 years millions of people have come to believe that Oswald was just a small cog in a wider plot to murder the president, orchestrated by a powerful group such as the CIA, the Mafia or the Cuban regime. In this new episode of Conspiracy, Rob Attar speaks to the journalist Gerald Posner whose landmark 1993 book Case Closed famously concluded that Oswald had indeed acted alone. Together they dissect the evidence from the assassination and consider why conspiracy theories about it have become so widespread.
In her most famous speech, delivered on 9 August 1588, Queen Elizabeth I declared that she had the "heart and stomach of a king". Was that just rhetoric? Or could England’s iconic Tudor queen actually have been a man masquerading as a woman? In this new episode of Conspiracy, Tudor historian Tracy Borman speaks to Rob Attar about the bizarre 'Bisley Boy' conspiracy theory that was popularised by none other than Dracula author Bram Stoker.
Alternate history: what if James II and VII had kept his throne?
Nige Tassell asks Professor Ted Vallance about the future of both monarchy and state religion had James II and VII not been usurped in 1688
In late 1688, King James II of England and Ireland, James VII of Scotland, saw his near-four-year reign drift to an end, after which he disappeared into exile. Replacing him on the throne were his son-in-law William III of Orange, the leader of the Dutch Republic, and William’s wife, James’s daughter Mary II. In England, the change in monarchs, known as the Glorious Revolution, was achieved with little bloodshed. James chose to disband his army, allowing William and his troops, having landed in Devon, to make their way to London relatively unimpeded. It might have been a largely peaceful surrender of power, but it was a significant one, too. William and Mary’s joint reign broke the notion of the divine right of kings by introducing a ‘contract’ between the monarchy and the people, as represented by Parliament. James, in contrast, had favoured a tighter concentration of power within one individual: himself. Had James repelled William and Mary’s invasion, what kind of monarchy might have developed under him? In context: the rule of James II and VII James II and VII may have ruled for fewer than four years, but his reign marked a turbulent time, both politically and religiously. Aiming to both curb the powers of Parliament and strengthen the hand of his fellow Catholics, he encountered significant opposition from politicians and clergymen alike. This tumult was resolved by the Glorious Revolution of 1688, which saw James’s removal from the throne and his replacement by his daughter Mary and her husband, William III of Orange. England was once again under Protestant rule, and the notion of the divine right of kings was punctured forever. “First of all, we need to understand James’s aims for Parliament,” explains Professor Ted Vallance of the University of Roehampton and author of The Glorious Revolution: 1688 – Britain’s Fight For Liberty (Little, Brown, 2006). “He aimed to fashion a House of Commons that would vote for the repeal of the Penal Laws, which excluded Catholics from public life. In this respect, he sought to make Parliament more ‘manageable’, and to use his prerogative powers to dissolve it when it became troublesome.” Read more | How glorious was the Glorious Revolution? Professor Vallance certainly cautions against any notion that the king sought to remove the legislature wholesale. “Had James done away with Parliament entirely, it would have actually made it hard for him to govern,” he explains. “Parliament represented England’s governing classes – its most powerful figures and the individuals who ensured the smooth operation of local government. The rapid swings of political fortune over James’s reign were already creating a chaotic political situation at local level.” Risk of revolution If the situation had been allowed to persist, could this chaos have turned into some kind of popular revolution capable of registering a significant blow to the monarchy itself? “It’s doubtful that domestic resistance would have posed much of an immediate threat to his authority,” observes Professor Vallance. “The king had built up a sizeable army, which had already demonstrated that it could deal effectively with uprisings, as shown by the crushing defeat of Argyll’s and Monmouth’s rebellions in 1685.” If, in the event James ruled for longer, Parliament had been clipped and curbed, what about the country’s religious make-up? “Some contemporaries believed that James’s intention was to restore Roman Catholicism as the religion of the state,” says Professor Vallance. “The long-term impact of having a Catholic dynasty in a Protestant country would surely have given a boost to the Catholic community in England, at the same time weakening the connection between the church and the monarchy. Even if England had not officially become a Catholic nation, there is a strong possibility that it would have ceased to be an Anglican one.” On assuming power, William quickly established a ‘Grand Alliance’, including England and the Dutch Republic, to firm up support in the Nine Years’ War against Louis XIV’s France. Had James remained on the throne, what would have been the nature of English foreign policy, particularly in relation to the French against the Protestant Dutch? Fighting France “I think the response would have been very different,” says Professor Vallance, “but it would not necessarily have seen England side with the French. Louis’s ambitions seemed limitless, so Catholic as well as Protestant heads of state were wary of the threat that France posed to their own interests. England staying out of the conflict at the beginning is perhaps the most likely scenario.” And would the French have gained quick superiority over the Dutch without the latter receiving naval support from England? “What seems most likely is a shorter conflict, with a peace favouring the French.” Finally, had James been succeeded by his son James, Prince of Wales, the subsequent route of succession would have taken a different path, and the British throne would not have been occupied by such era-defining monarchs as George III, Victoria and Elizabeth II. “Perhaps we don’t need to get too caught up in the dazzling personalities of these royals,” concludes Professor Vallance. “The Glorious Revolution also bequeathed us George I and George II. The likely alternative outcome would have been the same old hereditary lottery, with some good monarchs and some bad.” More from our alternate history series What if... the Cuban Missile Crisis had escalated? What if... Napoleon had defeated Russia? What if... George III had not 'lost' the colonies? What if... the Spanish Armada had landed in England? What if... Alexander the Great hadn't died so young? What if... Argentina had won the Falklands War? What if... Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon’s first son had lived? What if... Japan hadn't attacked Pearl Harbor? This article was first published in the October 2023 issue of BBC History Revealed
Alternate history: what if Charles II of Spain had produced an heir?
Nige Tassell and Dr Adrian Pearce discuss how history may have been different had the king not named a young French duke as his successor
When Charles II of Spain died in 1700, his infertility – “he had a single testicle,” his autopsy reported, “black as coal” – left no heir to the throne. A dispute between the great nations of Europe then ensued. Charles had named the teenage Philip of Anjou as his successor, handing the crown to the House of Bourbon and strengthening the bonds between Spain and France. Such closer ties were met with deep concern in other quarters of Europe – in particular Britain, the Dutch Republic and the Holy Roman Empire – where the preferred choice was Charles III of Austria. This Grand Alliance aimed to maintain Europe’s delicate balance of power and reduce French influence on the Iberian Peninsula. The dispute mutated into the War of the Spanish Succession, a 13-year conflict that fractured the continent. In context: the death of Charles II On 1 November 1700, five days before his 39th birthday, Charles II of Spain died where he was born, in the Royal Alcázar of Madrid. Despite being twice married, the king failed to produce an heir to the crown, his infertility linked to serial inbreeding within the House of Habsburg. In the last weeks of his life, he had been persuaded to name the 16-year-old Philip of Anjou, the grandson of his elder sister and, most notably, Louis XIV of France, as his successor. This put the House of Bourbon on the Spanish throne, a move that precipitated the War of the Spanish Succession and significantly diverted the course of European history. “Had Charles had a child,” says Dr Adrian Pearce, associate professor in the School of European Languages, Culture and Society at University College London, “this war would not, of course, have taken place. It was Charles’s will that threatened the existing European balance of power by placing a scion of the French ruling dynasty on the throne of Spain.” The Grand Alliance could not have been blamed for going to war. “The concerns in Britain and elsewhere regarding a natural Franco-Spanish alliance were not entirely unjustified.” Read more | What was the Habsburg jaw? Just as the war wouldn’t have taken place had Charles produced an heir, nor of course would the terms of the peace agreement at the end of the conflict. When the fighting stopped, Philip was confirmed as king of Spain, although – for the sake of that balance of power – he had to renounce his right, or that of his descendants, to inherit the French throne. While Spanish territory in Italy and the Low Countries was ceded, its colonies across the Atlantic were largely left intact, although significant trade concessions were made in the Spanish Americas to the British, who were the key winners in the war’s aftermath, becoming the dominant maritime power, usurping the Dutch who’d been run aground by debts from the war. Bourbon reforms Dr Pearce argues that it’s not inconceivable this would have happened anyway, just over a longer period of time. “Would Britannia have ended up ruling the waves without the War of the Spanish Succession? That is, was Britain’s naval power on the rise anyway and the aftermath of the war simply fuelled the inevitable? The latter seems likely to have been the case: the War of Succession acted as a catalyst and speeded up processes that were already in play. The 18th century was likely to have become increasingly ‘British’ over time, helped by the onset of the Industrial Revolution. It was just that the conflict in and over Spain brought Britain’s strength to the fore.” British domination of the slave trade, aided by the award of exclusive rights to supply the Spanish colonies with slaves after the war, would have been a likely outcome, too, in time. The inheritance of Spanish power by the House of Bourbon brought great changes within Spain which, under the underwhelming Habsburg rule, had not been on the horizon. “The Spanish Habsburgs had long defaulted to conservatism and an antipathy to innovation in government. There is little reason to believe this would change after 1700. The Spanish national revival came about precisely because of the stimulus of a new dynasty bringing new ideas and new attitudes to government. Moreover, the War of Succession itself brought the abolition of the fueros, the traditional rights and privileges of the Crown of Aragon, a key landmark in the formation of Spain itself as a modern nation state.” Read more | The Habsburgs: the dynasty that wouldn’t die The colonies in Spanish America also felt this wave of modernisation, which they almost certainly wouldn’t have had under the Habsburgs. “The Americas too were subject to their own Bourbon reforms,” explains Dr Pearce, “in a process that came to affect the economy, the state finances, matters of defence, church-state relations and the structures of government. The 18th century in the Hispanic world definitely has a different feel to it.” With Britain empowered and Spain under a process of modernisation, what effect did the war have on France? Britain had weakened the French hold over the eastern coast of present-day Canada, including the conquering of Newfoundland and the renaming of French Acadia as Nova Scotia. Had there been no war, perhaps French influence would have spread westwards, offering the possibility of Canada being a wholly French-speaking nation today. A fundamental shift It could also be argued that the war – itself, of course, precipitated by that lack of a Spanish heir – sowed the seeds of a fundamental shift for France domestically. The nation had encountered huge debts from 13 years of conflict, with its monarchy being seen by the populace as over-powerful and out of touch as a result. A case can thus be made that these were the initial stirrings which gathered weight and momentum over the subsequent decades, culminating in the French Revolution. That is, without the financial aftermath of the War of the Spanish Succession, the move towards republicanism wouldn’t have been so soon, if at all. More from our alternate history series What if... the Cuban Missile Crisis had escalated? What if... Napoleon had defeated Russia? What if... George III had not 'lost' the colonies? What if... the Spanish Armada had landed in England? What if... Alexander the Great hadn't died so young? What if... Argentina had won the Falklands War? What if... Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon’s first son had lived? What if... Japan hadn't attacked Pearl Harbor? This article was first published in the July 2023 issue of BBC History Revealed
Alternate history: what if Henry V hadn't died in 1422?
Professor Anne Curry and Nige Tassell consider the future shape of English and French history had the victor of Agincourt lived longer
Since his unexpected victory at the battle of Agincourt in 1415, Henry V’s fortunes had been transformed. From being a monarch in fear of being deposed by those closest to him, within a handful of years he was heir to the French throne. His succession was set out in the treaty of Troyes in 1420, an agreement that also outlined his marriage to Catherine of Valois, daughter of the French king, Charles VI. With support from Burgundy, Henry continued in his campaign to win further support for Charles in Armagnac territory, which was resolute in its backing of the French king’s son, the Dauphin Charles, who had lost his inheritance rights when the treaty was signed. His power had also diminished by being implicated in the murder of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy. But before he could consolidate the remainder of the country, Henry died in August 1422 after contracting dysentery. His son, Henry, became king of England, and when Charles VI passed away a few weeks later, the young infant inherited the French crown too. He wasn’t yet a year old. In context: the death of Henry V The premature death of Henry V in 1422, aged just 35, was a significant loss for England. By then, Henry was heir to the French throne, thanks to the terms of the Treaty of Troyes and his marriage to Catherine of Valois, the daughter of French king Charles VI. He was a strong and capable leader, who could have brought the kingdoms of England and France together under a single monarch, but his death meant that the alliance was doomed in the following decades as his young son, Henry VI, took over. France would ultimately claim victory in the Hundred Years' War with many subsequent conflicts breaking out between the two countries across the centuries. Henry V’s premature death throws up a number of talking points. Had Henry outlived Charles VI and become dual king, what would the relationship between England and France have resembled – and what would have been the consequences for the rest of Europe – under such a strong leader? Anne Curry, emeritus professor of medieval history at the University of Southampton and the author of several books on Henry V and Agincourt, is in no doubt that Henry’s campaign to rid France of the Dauphin would have been entirely necessary for France’s internal security. “I am sure Henry would have continued with military activity to ensure other areas accepted the treaty of Troyes. His focus had to be on defeating the Dauphin. The treaty emphasised the hope of Anglo-French reconciliation and Henry was seen by many French people as the only man strong enough to restore peace and stability. In his conquest of Normandy, Henry had won over hearts and minds with his fair but firm rule. He had the skills and the insights, as well as the personal determination, to make a union of the English and French crowns work. Had the Dauphin been killed, the double monarchy would have been considerably strengthened.” The dual monarchy would have been a delicate balance of power for Henry, though, as Professor Curry explains. “In December 1420, the English parliament had already expressed its concerns about his long absence to date – he had been in France continuously from August 1417 – and his likely long absences in the future. He could not be in two places at once. “But I often ponder what might have happened if the double monarchy had survived, given that the countries were so often at war in later centuries. Can we imagine a world without a Louis XIV or a Napoleon, or without a Nelson or a Wellington?” When he came of age, Henry VI proved to be a much weaker leader in comparison to his resolute, swashbuckling father. He was no chip off the block. Had Henry V lived longer, would he have been able to mould his son into being a more competent monarch, endowing him with the required skills and acumen? “He never knew his father,” says Professor Curry. “Had he had a longer apprenticeship and hands-on guidance, perhaps he would have displayed more interest in the French wars. Even though he was taken there in 1430 for his coronation, he didn’t demonstrate his father’s level of commitment to France. However, remember that Henry V had a bad relationship with his own father, so we cannot assume that, had he survived, he would have been able to make the future Henry VI into a warrior prince.” Had Henry V lived another 20 or 30 years, then Catherine would almost certainly not have remarried, as she did in 1428. The identity of her second husband would be significant for the future of England. “There was a reluctance to allow her to remarry,” explains Professor Curry. “A parliamentary statute was even needed to control it. There were rumours that Edmund Beaufort had made her pregnant, but, to cover this, she married Owen Tudor, an insignificant Welsh esquire.” Having two sons with her new husband meant the Tudors were brought into the bloodline of monarchical succession and English history was diverted towards a different destiny. Without this, there may have been no split with Rome, keeping England a Catholic country for longer. Also, James VI and I may not have occupied the thrones of both England and Scotland, thus delaying the future unification of the kingdoms. Alternatively, under Henry V, it may have occurred much earlier. “With the kingdoms of France and England united,” concludes Professor Curry, “Scotland would have lost its ‘auld alliance’ with France. As a result, I reckon there would have been renewed interest in bringing Scotland into the fold. Perhaps the creation of a triple crown?” More from our alternate history series What if... the Cuban Missile Crisis had escalated? What if... Napoleon had defeated Russia? What if... George III had not 'lost' the colonies? What if... the Spanish Armada had landed in England? What if... Alexander the Great hadn't died so young? What if... Argentina had won the Falklands War? What if... Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon’s first son had lived? What if... Japan hadn't attacked Pearl Harbor? This article was first published in the April 2023 issue of BBC History Revealed