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What did the Tudors think was ‘good’ sex? These tips and tricks were key to relationships in the 16th century
From the importance of female pleasure to why you might need ribbons in the bedroom, historian Ruth Goodman explores the world of Tudor sex
Is there any better way to understand the deadly politics and high drama of the Tudor era than through the lens of their audacious romantic entanglements? After all, King Henry VIII had six wives, instigating the Reformation in the name of love (and presumably lust, too), meanwhile Queen Elizabeth I grew a cult of personality around her virginity, developing it into a sharp instrument of power and control. Sex, or lack thereof, was clearly important to the Tudor royals. But away from the courts of kings and queens, what role did intimate romance play in the lives of ordinary Tudors; the people who were farmers, millers, bakers and blacksmiths? What did they get up to in the bedroom, and what was the role of sex in their lives? Good vs bad sex “[Sex] was seriously important to people in Tudor Britain,” says Ruth Goodman, speaking in her newest HistoryExtra Academy course, Tudor Life, “it marked the moment of adulthood. A single person [as opposed to someone who was married] wasn’t considered to be fully adult”. Watch now | Ruth Goodman on Tudor life As a watershed moment in a person’s life, sex was incredibly important, both practically and symbolically. However, it wasn’t necessarily straightforward – there were social norms that dictated how people should be having sex. Sex was only considered ‘good’ if it took place within marriage and, as Goodman explains, “so long as it fulfilled one of two purposes: one was to bond a couple together, and the other was procreation”. No matter what sort of sex it was, if it happened outside of the marital bed, it was immoral. Anything that fell outside of the “traditional marriage picture of a man and a woman creating babies” was a transgression and ‘bad’ sex. But that didn’t mean that the Tudors discouraged pleasure. The importance of pleasure One of the main Tudor beliefs about sex was that a woman could only conceive if she was enjoying the act, and this would ideally include a female orgasm. “Just as a man needed to be interested in order to produce seed, a woman needed to be interested in order for that union to occur”, explains Goodman. It may seem surprising that there was such a focus on women’s pleasure in what was a largely patriarchal society. But, while some good husbands may have used this belief to ensure their wives had a good time, there were some more sinister repercussions to this too. “The bad side of [this belief] is that if a woman is forced [to have sex] and she conceives, then nobody in society believes she was raped; they think she must have been enjoying it,” explains Goodman. So, while female pleasure was considered to be a crucial part of sex, and essential to procreation, it was a double-edged sword that had inadvertent negative consequences too. Getting the position right But pleasure wasn’t the only thing needed for procreation, according to Tudor ideas about sex. There was some biological backing to their understanding of reproduction too. “It’s thought in the Tudor period that a woman’s reproductive organs are a mirror image of a man’s … if you want to have children, you should [be positioned in] a nice straight line to allow the seed to get where it needs to go”, says Goodman. Read more | The Virgin Queen? Elizabeth I's forbidden love This meant that the ultimate position to optimise conception was the missionary position. The idea was that the straighter the couple’s bodies were lined up, the more likely they were to conceive. “Any [position] in which the bodies were bent, particularly a woman’s body, which might prohibit the movement of the seed [was] not so good,” notes Goodman. It wasn’t just the position of the couple that mattered, though. The Tudors had detailed notions about how the testicles affected the success of conception and the gender of the baby. Tudor understandings of the body proposed that the right-hand side of the heart carried fresh, more vigorous blood around the body, so the right side had more energy than the left. It followed that the more ‘powerful’ right testicle would therefore be responsible for creating male children – and the left, female. As we know from Henry VIII’s succession crisis, having male babies was of great importance. So, what did Tudor men do if they wanted to ensure a male heir? Well, as Goodman reveals, “if you wanted to be sure of having a boy, it was a really good idea to tie a ribbon around the left-hand testicle, just to ensure that the correct seed made the journey”. Although we now know that this would not have had any impact on a baby’s sex, it’s intriguing to think that men in the 16th century – including King Henry VIII himself – may have been tying ribbons around their genitals in an attempt to conceive a much-wanted boy. What did Tudors think was sexy? While the main reason for sex in the 16th century was to conceive a child, that doesn’t mean people were only having sex to procreate. Many couples were simply in love and just wanted to have fun. To do that, they had to be attracted to each other. But what was considered sexy in the Tudor period? According to Ruth, linen was considered a very sexy material because it was the “layer that sits next to the skin, [highlighting] that intimacy between you and your clothes”. Read more | 7 things you (probably) didn't know about Tudor fashion The same principle applied to a woman’s hair. As something that would usually be either covered or pinned back in polite society, a woman unveiling her hair to a man was considered a great honour and an intense act of intimacy. “A woman’s hair is her crowning glory and her husband’s delight”, says Goodman. “It is a private sexual pleasure, not something to be shown to [just anyone]”. For Tudor women, they might be drawn to a man’s legs. Those tight stockings that are a familiar image of the Tudor period were a way for men to show off the shape of their “nicely turned calf”. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/10/HM0CN5CALF-ee388bc.jpg" width="1552" height="1610" alt="A painting showing a man dressed in white stockings and a dark brown doublet and cape. He has an orange beard. He is standing in a marble arch, surrounded by marble statues and two red and blue shields" title="A 1546 portrait of Earl of Surrey, Henry Howard, sporting the characteristic tight Tudor stockings (Image by Alamy)" /> The Tudors had rules – but they weren’t prudes With all these rules and expectations, and the notion that hair and calves were sexy, you’d be forgiven for thinking that the Tudors were prudes. In reality, they were quite open about sex. Tudor society had its deep-rooted beliefs about what sex was for, who could have it and how they should do it, but they weren’t shy about it. As Goodman explains, “The Tudor world was not particularly prissy. There was an awful lot of talk, and quite open talk, about relations between men and women, about attractiveness and sexiness”. Want to step even further into the world of the Tudors? In her brand-new HistoryExtra Academy series, Ruth Goodman takes you inside everyday life in the 16th century — from food and fashion to faith, work, and even love and marriage. The first three episodes are available now on the HistoryExtra app, with more to come soon. Start watching today Want to ask Ruth a question? Join our live virtual Q&A on 19 November. Find out more here
Thomas Cromwell's death – a rapid descent from the pinnacle of power
Thomas Cromwell’s final six months were a Greek tragedy of hubris and political venom, all presided over by a tyrannical king. Diarmaid MacCulloch charts Cromwell’s rapid descent from the very pinnacle of power to the executioner’s block
As downfalls go, it was spectacular – and brutally swift. On 10 June 1540, Thomas Cromwell arrived at court for what should have been a routine meeting of the Privy Council. As this son of Putney was soon to discover, the meeting was anything but routine. On entering the council, Cromwell – Henry VIII’s immensely gifted chief minister and among the most powerful men in England – dressed in his formal splendid attire as Knight of the Garter, was arrested and humiliated by his old enemy the Duke of Norfolk. The duke ripped the collar of St George from Cromwell’s neck, while the Earl of Southampton, not to be outdone in malice, untied the garter from his knee. Cromwell was then bundled off to the Tower of London down the Thames by barge from Westminster. He would never see the king again. Cromwell’s anguished plea to Henry – “Most gracious prince: I cry for mercy, mercy, mercy!”, written in desperation in his Tower cell – was met with a stony silence. On 28 July, Cromwell was led out to the scaffold on Tower Hill to face his executioner. On that very same day, the king distracted himself by marrying a new wife, Catherine Howard. How had it come to this? How had a man who that April had reached the pinnacle of his success by being appointed 16th Earl of Essex and Lord Great Chamberlain suffered such a vertiginous fall? What led to Thomas Cromwell’s death? For once, the picturesque traditional story deserves priority. That story is the personal disaster of physical repulsion that destroyed the marriage of Henry VIII to his hapless wife, Anne of Cleves. The marriage had seemed such a neat idea to Cromwell – for it was his idea. Anne’s chief virtue for Cromwell as he sought to secure the king a fourth bride was that she was not the daughter of an English nobleman, and so as queen consort, she would not disturb the uneasy balance in English court politics between leading aristocrats. Diplomatically, advantages stacked up. Anne’s family had carried out their own Reformation in their ducal territories in western Germany, while not decisively breaking with the pope. They were also one of the counterweights to the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V inside his empire. Read more | Europe's holy war: how the Reformation convulsed a continent There’s another element to these negotiations that have for centuries been overshadowed by the Cleves debacle. Cromwell was actually orchestrating an international ‘Two-Princess Deal’, twinning the Cleves match with negotiations to marry Catherine of Aragon’s daughter, the Lady Mary, to Philip Duke of Bavaria, a German prince with similar credentials to those of Cleves. Remarkably, when Anne of Cleves arrived in England, Duke Philip was already there, discreetly making the right marital overtures to Mary. He even gave her a kiss in the garden of the abbot of Westminster in front of witnesses. Nothing came from this promising start, which was caught up in the unfolding nuptial disaster that was the Cleves marriage, and Mary would have to wait another 14 years before securing the hand of a continental royal: the prince (later king) of Spain. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2024/11/RV14286-9-2-5af1d26-e1731579620822.jpg" width="620" height="413" alt="The debacle of Henry VIII’s marriage to Anne of Cleves (depicted in a portrait by Hans Holbein the Younger) heaped sexual humiliation on the king – and Thomas Cromwell took the blame (Photo by Roger-Viollet/TopFoto)" title="The debacle of Henry VIII’s marriage to Anne of Cleves (depicted in a portrait by Hans Holbein the Younger) heaped sexual humiliation on the king – and Thomas Cromwell took the blame (Photo by Roger-Viollet/TopFoto)" /> The symmetry of the diplomatic moves with Cleves and Bavaria made it all the more devastating when Henry departed from Cromwell’s script and loathed the Lady Anne at first sight at Rochester as she journeyed up to court, on New Year’s Day 1540. The reasons are locked for ever in the mystery that is Henry VIII; no one else could see much wrong with her. Henry’s efforts to find a legal way out of the marriage were all futile, and so from January 1540, he was trapped humiliatingly in Cromwell’s project. That revealed the minister’s vulnerability: from his first rise to power in 1532, he was always at the mercy of the king’s moods and demands. Like his predecessor and patron, Cardinal Wolsey, Cromwell would be high in favour only as long as he delivered a successful result for the king. But the Cleves debacle was more than just a diplomatic failure: it also heaped personal sexual humiliation on Henry VIII. From the first night that the ill-starred couple had shared a marital bed, the king found himself repelled at the thought of any physical intimacy with her. Now those who hated Cromwell simply for being Cromwell could play on the king’s emotional impulses, just as Cromwell himself had done in sealing the downfall of Henry’s second wife, Anne Boleyn, back in 1536. Cromwell had never been close to Boleyn, despite their common interest in religious Reformation. More important to their relationship was her central role in destroying his beloved master, Wolsey, whose memory Cromwell had ostentatiously commemorated in his heraldry even while Anne consolidated her position as Henry VIII’s bride. Anne’s execution in May 1536 brought Cromwell his first public honours that summer, which she had probably blocked previously: not just a knighthood but a peerage, Baron Cromwell of Wimbledon. He also acquired the very senior legal office of Lord Privy Seal: third-ranking office of state after the Lord Chancellor and Lord Treasurer, with control over a crucial stage in the production of documents for sealing after the initial royal signature on any grant or decision. Those promotions were galling for the existing nobility, led by the biggest snob in Tudor England, the Duke of Norfolk (whose peerage titles were all of six decades older than Cromwell’s new title). Thomas Cromwell's early brush with death In the crisis of autumn 1536, during the northern risings known as the Pilgrimage of Grace for the Commonwealth, this nearly brought ruin to the upstart. The pilgrims saw Cromwell as their chief enemy, and in their fury at the destruction of northern monasteries (which they blamed on him), they were not intimidated by the royal armies sent against them under Norfolk’s generalship. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2024/11/GettyImages-464427341-fa27132-e1731579829101.jpg" width="620" height="413" alt="A c1539 portrait of Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. “The biggest snob in England” revelled in Thomas Cromwell’s fall from grace (Photo by Fine Art Images/Heritage Images/Getty Images)" title="A c1539 portrait of Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. “The biggest snob in England” revelled in Thomas Cromwell’s fall from grace (Photo by Fine Art Images/Heritage Images/Getty Images)" /> There was a terrifying moment for Cromwell in the first week of November 1536, during which the king hesitated, pondering whether to sacrifice his minister as the centrepiece of sweeping concessions to the rebels. Henry changed his mind after retreating to his then rarely used Palace of Richmond, which happened to be significantly near a newly acquired Surrey country house of Cromwell’s at Mortlake. That vital element of face-to-face contact, which Cromwell’s enemies succeeded in preventing when he did eventually fall from power, brought Henry second thoughts. Instead of being destroyed by the king, Cromwell now enjoyed his increasing favour. Indeed, in summer 1537, Baron Cromwell celebrated a spectacular dynastic triumph. His teenage son, Gregory – much-loved, charming but otherwise not exceptionally talented – married Elizabeth Seymour, slightly older than him and already widow of a Yorkshire knight. More importantly, she was the sister of Henry’s current queen, Jane Seymour. The genealogical results of this wedding were intriguing: in an informal sense, they made Cromwell the king’s uncle by marriage, and in a specifically formal sense, Gregory Cromwell became uncle by marriage to the heir to the throne who was born that autumn (the future Edward VI). It was a formidable alliance: newly ennobled Seymours and a potential new English noble dynasty of Cromwells. That marked the Lord Privy Seal as a future danger to everyone else vying for power under the king, particularly those who felt that the greater antiquity of their noble titles was a sign that God singled them out for rule under Henry VIII. Thomas Cromwell played a dangerous game Parallel to that dynastic complication was the polarising effect of religion. With Anne Boleyn removed, Cromwell was the chief promoter of evangelical reformation amid the uncertain theological future of Henry VIII’s newly created Church of England. His quasi-religious office as ‘Vice-Gerent in Spirituals’ replicated the power that Cardinal Wolsey had enjoyed, but was now exercised under the king’s authority, not that of the pope. By 1538 it would be obvious to the politically well-informed that the Vice-Gerent was not always following initiatives from the king, but instead using the ill-defined power of an ill-defined office to push his own reformist agenda in such matters as enforcing circulation of the Bible in English or attacking traditional cults of saints and pilgrimage to shrines. There was much more activity of the same character behind the scenes. Read more | The dissolution of the monasteries: mindless violence or planned precision? Cromwell was playing a dangerous game if anyone chose to draw the king’s attention to what was happening – or more precisely, if the king chose to listen to that information. Henry always decided which noises rang most loudly in his ears at any one time, and during the 1530s the opposed voices had taken on a poisonous religious resonance. Around Cromwell gathered gentry and nobility (including the Seymours) who sympathised with his reformist aims in religion, in contact with Reformations in mainland Europe. Ranged against them was a wide spectrum of those who might feel any combination of dynastic or religious hostility towards the Vice-Gerent, and who would be alert to any opportunity to discredit him. Cromwell’s love for his only surviving child pushed him into ever more reckless confrontations with more established politicians. In late 1537, Gregory and his near-royal bride were sent to Sussex to constitute a local power for king and Cromwell on the south coast. The young couple were provided with the beginnings of a stately mansion that the Lord Privy Seal planned to convert from a major monastery in a fine spreading valley site below the hill-town of Lewes. It needed an accelerated surrender of Lewes Priory to make this rehousing work in time for the already pregnant Elizabeth Seymour. During autumn 1537 the haste was evidenced by a new departure in policy during the monastic dissolutions: for the first time all the Lewes monks were offered a pension if they co-operated with the surrender. Read more | Q&A: Where did the monks go after the dissolution of the monasteries? Then a year after all was safely settled, in late autumn 1538 Gregory committed some scandalous exploit in Sussex, the details of which are now obscured but were probably sexual in nature. That required his hasty removal with Elizabeth and son from Sussex to a conveniently vacant royal castle at Leeds in Kent. Lewes lost its chance to be the ancestral home of a great Cromwell dynasty. The prompt arrival of Gregory and his wife in the splendour of Leeds Castle in March 1539 was politically necessary to provide minimum propriety for one of Cromwell’s riskiest moves yet. That spring, the government carefully managed new parliamentary elections for the House of Commons county by county, to balance local political forces and produce an assembly that would co-operate with the king’s various plans. In Kent, however, the pairing of the leading representatives, the two ‘knights of the shire’, was bizarre. One was indeed the sort of eminent knight one might expect, Sir Thomas Cheyney. The other was Gregory Cromwell: a rackety teenager who within about a month of taking up residence in Kent, now occupied a place normally reserved for most respectable county gentry. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2024/11/2F2D995-e2a0a70-e1731579461245.jpg" width="620" height="413" alt="A Holbein miniature, long without an identification, but now said to depict Gregory Cromwell in 1537. That same year, Thomas secured his son possession of Lewes Priory (Photo by Maidun Collection/Alamy Stock Photo)" title="A Holbein miniature, long without an identification, but now said to depict Gregory Cromwell in 1537. That same year, Thomas secured his son possession of Lewes Priory (Photo by Maidun Collection/Alamy Stock Photo)" /> The oddity of that choice for parliament is emphasised by the fact that at no stage in 1539–40 can Gregory be found named as a justice of the peace in Kent. Whatever had happened in Sussex probably made that seem unwise for the moment, but to make Gregory a knight of the shire was the first sign of what became increasingly apparent over the next 12 months: Cromwell was losing his grip on his previously acute sense of what was not just politically possible but also politically sensible. It is significant that the trigger for this corruption of Cromwell’s judgment was dynastic: his love for the erratic, energetic boy who was his only legitimate heir. Why the Duke of Norfolk pushed for Thomas Cromwell's downfall The sheer scale of the problems facing any would-be reforming minister in Tudor England, Wales and Ireland, let alone the increasing political turmoil, would have stretched anyone’s powers of management, even someone with Cromwell’s exceptional talent and energy. From spring 1539, events revealed his deteriorating sense of discretion and control, and even what at first seemed a smart move, the Cleves marriage, proved the most toxic of mistakes. Cromwell’s bravura improvisations in politics and policy enraged traditionalist leaders in national politics, moving them towards the conclusion that he must be stopped. Most fatally for the minister, Thomas, Duke of Norfolk was now prepared to lead the charge. Read more | Thomas Cromwell: the best Italian in all England Over the previous few years Norfolk had normally been careful to cast the appearance of bluff friendship over his relations with Cromwell, even under the considerable provocation represented by the Cromwell/Seymour marriage in 1537. Now he was pushed over the edge by a move offensive in both religious and dynastic terms: the dissolution of a Cluniac priory at Thetford in Norfolk that served as mausoleum for the Howard family and their noble predecessors as earls and dukes of Norfolk. Howard had made plans to save the mausoleum by turning the priory into a non-monastic collegiate church, as happened to a number of other monasteries (most to become cathedrals) during the monastic dissolutions. In the end, the complete suppression of Thetford Priory in February 1540 was one of the very last to take place, postponed with surely deliberate delay to a few days after the duke had left England on a hastily organised embassy to France. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2024/11/BMNFD7-a36d9de-e1731579777920.jpg" width="620" height="413" alt="Thomas Cromwell’s decision to dissolve Thetford Priory enraged the Duke of Norfolk, who would soon relish the opportunity to exact retribution (Photo by Pictures Colour Library/Alamy Stock Photo)" title="Thomas Cromwell’s decision to dissolve Thetford Priory enraged the Duke of Norfolk, who would soon relish the opportunity to exact retribution (Photo by Pictures Colour Library/Alamy Stock Photo)" /> It was a direct blow to Howard’s always brittle family pride: later he and his stepmother went to the extraordinary length of moving Howard tombs and their occupants from Thetford Priory to two parish churches in Suffolk and at Lambeth. Whatever nuances we may now find in Cromwell’s supervision of monastic closures through the 1530s, his old enemy would see Thetford’s dissolution without a collegiate future as yet another calculated insult to Howard honour. Hence the prominent part that the Duke of Norfolk played in the dissolution of Cromwell in spring and summer 1540: not merely the drama in the Privy Council chamber, but much quiet priming of ambassadors to spread the right narrative quickly across Europe. Thomas Cromwell’s fall from grace Perhaps it was always inevitable that great ministers of Henry VIII would fall from grace, defeated by his impossible and incessant demands. That was accentuated by the fact that early Tudor England was always disadvantaged in European politics, not nearly as powerful or important as Henry thought it should be. For both Wolsey and Cromwell, the trigger for downfall was failure in foreign policy. Wolsey had found it impossible to persuade a pope intimidated by Charles V to annul the long-standing marriage of Charles’s aunt Catherine of Aragon to a selfish king of England. In Cromwell’s case, the problem was his understandable inability to deal with Henry VIII looking a gift horse from Cleves in the mouth. After that, with the king characteristically looking for a reason to blame someone else for his own decision, the jackals were free to gather. Any charge would do: treason or heresy. Cromwell was lucky not to be burned at the stake for heresy in 1540, instead suffering a comparatively swift (albeit still gruesome) death by the executioner’s axe. Maybe the tide was already ebbing on King Henry’s malice. How Thomas Cromwell got his revenge The minister’s enemies would suffer dearly for the role they played in his death Thomas Cromwell’s death did not immediately end the killing. Two days later a notorious event embodied Henry VIII’s idiosyncratic notion of ‘middle way’. Six priests were executed: three evangelicals burned for heresy, and three papalist Catholics hanged, drawn and quartered for treason. The evangelical clerics Robert Barnes, Thomas Garrad and William Jerome were clearly identified with Cromwell, and their clashes with the conservative bishop Stephen Gardiner had sparked much political turmoil in Cromwell’s last months. What is extraordinary is how little Cromwell’s friends suffered after that. From the moment that Henry was satisfied in his urgent quest not to be married to Anne of Cleves – through the legal pronouncement that the marriage was null because of non-consummation – his rage against Cromwell began cooling. In fact, by winter 1541 he was ranting at his councillors that “upon the pretexts of trivial faults that [Cromwell] had committed, they had laid several false accusations on him, by which [the king] been made to put to death the most faithful servant he ever had”. The king’s new mood soon benefited Gregory Cromwell. As early as December 1540, Gregory was granted a new barony in his own right, after his wife (Jane Seymour’s sister) had skilfully written to the king for mercy. After Henry VIII’s death in 1547, Cromwell’s Seymour allies, such as Sir John Dudley and Henry Grey Marquess of Dorset, formed an evangelical government for Edward VI. In effect, the opening weeks of the new reign saw a coup of Cromwellians against Thomas Cromwell’s enemies: a reversal of the debacle of 1540. The new regime spearheaded a religious revolution that followed the Protestant trajectory of Cromwell’s policies. It also marginalised or imprisoned some of the chief actors in his fall: Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton; Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk; Stephen Gardiner and Edmund Bonner. Cromwell’s posthumous revenge was a dish inevitably but still satisfyingly served cold. Diarmaid MacCulloch is emeritus professor of the history of the church and fellow of St Cross College and Campion Hall, University of Oxford This article was first published in the December 2024 issue of BBC History Magazine
Why did Henry VIII send Anne Boleyn to the block?
Was she ensnared by a conspiracy, the victim of her own loose tongue, or simply guilty as charged? Suzannah Lipscomb tries to unearth the real reason why Henry VIII sent his second wife, Anne Boleyn, to the block
On the morning of 19 May 1536, Anne Boleyn climbed the scaffold erected on Tower Green, within the walls of the Tower of London. She gave a speech praising the goodness and mercy of the king, and asked those gathered to pray for her. Then she removed her fine, ermine-trimmed gown, and knelt down – and the expensive French executioner that Henry VIII had ordered swung his sword and “divided her neck at a blow”. Her death is so familiar to us that it is hard to imagine how shocking it would have been: the queen of England executed on charges of adultery, incest and conspiring the king’s death. And not just any queen: this was the woman for whom Henry VIII had abandoned his wife of nearly 24 years, waited seven long years to wed, and even revolutionised his country’s church. Yet just three years later her head was off – and the reason for her death remains one of the great mysteries of English history. To this day, historians cannot agree why she had to die. Had Henry and Anne’s relationship gone into terminal decline, prompting Henry to invent the charges against his wife? Was Thomas Cromwell responsible for Anne’s demise? Or was she indeed guilty of the charges laid against her? Evidence is limited – but there is enough to appear to support several very different conclusions. A timeline of the days before Anne Boleyn's execution There are a number of undisputed facts relating to Anne’s fall. On Sunday 30 April 1536 Mark Smeaton, a musician from the queen’s household, was arrested; he was then interrogated at Cromwell’s house in Stepney. On the same evening the king postponed a trip with Anne to Calais, planned for 2 May. Read more | He was the court musician who condemned Anne Boleyn: but was Mark Smeaton telling the truth? The next day, 1 May, Smeaton was moved to the Tower. Henry attended the May Day jousts at Greenwich but left abruptly on horseback with a small group of intimates. These included Sir Henry Norris, a personal body servant and one of his closest friends, whom he questioned throughout the journey. At dawn the next day Norris was taken to the Tower. Anne and her brother George, Lord Rochford, were also arrested. On 4 and 5 May, more courtiers from the king’s privy chamber – William Brereton, Richard Page, Francis Weston, Thomas Wyatt and Francis Bryan – were arrested. The latter was questioned and released, but the others were imprisoned in the Tower. On 10 May, a grand jury indicted all of the accused, apart from Page and Wyatt. On 12 May, Smeaton, Brereton, Weston and Norris were tried and found guilty of adultery with the queen, and of conspiring the king’s death. On 15 May, Anne and Rochford were tried within the Tower by a court of 26 peers presided over by their uncle, the Duke of Norfolk. Both were found guilty of high treason. On 17 May Archbishop Thomas Cranmer declared the marriage of Henry and Anne null, and by 19 May, all six convicted had been executed. Later that day, Cranmer issued a dispensation allowing Henry and Jane Seymour to marry; they were betrothed on 20 May and married 10 days later. What could explain this rapid and surprising turn of events? Theory: Anne Boleyn was guilty of the charges against her The first theory, argued by Boleyn biographer and scholar GW Bernard, is simply that Anne was guilty of the charges against her. Yet even he is equivocal, suggesting the Scottish legal verdict of ‘not proven’ – he concludes that, though the evidence is insufficient to prove definitively that Anne and those accused with her were guilty, neither does it prove their innocence. Anne’s guilt was, naturally, the official line. Writing to the bishop of Winchester, Stephen Gardiner, Cromwell stated with certainty – before Anne’s trial – that “the queen’s incontinent living was so rank and common that the ladies of her privy chamber could not conceal it.” 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 The key piece of evidence was undoubtedly the confession by the first man accused, Smeaton, that he had had sexual intercourse with the queen three times. Though it was probably obtained under torture (the accounts vary), he never retracted his confession. Unlikely as it was to be true, it catapulted the investigation to a different, far more serious level. All subsequent evidence was tainted with a presumption of guilt. Henry VIII’s intimate questioning of Norris, and his promise of “pardon in case he would utter the truth”, must be understood in this light: whatever Norris said, or refused to say, it reinforced Henry’s conviction of his guilt. Read more | George and Anne Boleyn: their real relationship explored Other evidence for Anne’s guilt is unclear – the trial documents do not survive. Her indictment, however, states that Anne “did falsely and traitoroysly procure by base conversations and kisses, touchings, gifts and other infamous incitations, divers of the king’s daily and familiar servants to be her adulterers and concubines, so that several… yielded to her vile provocations”. She even, it charges, “procured and incited her own natural brother… to violate her, alluring him with her tongue in the said George’s mouth, and the said George’s tongue in hers”. Yet, as another Boleyn biographer Eric Ives noted, three-quarters of the specific accusations of adulterous liaisons made in the indictment can be discredited, even 500 years later. Certainly, Anne maintained her innocence. During her imprisonment Sir William Kingston, constable of the Tower, reported Anne’s remarks to Cromwell. His first letter details Anne’s ardent declaration of innocence: “I am as clear from the company of man, as for sin… as I am clear from you, and the king’s true wedded wife.” A few days later, Anne comforted herself that she would have justice: “She said if any man accuse me I can say but nay, and they can bring no witness.” Crucially, the night before her execution, she swore “on peril of her soul’s damnation”, before and after receiving the Eucharist, that she was innocent – a serious act in that religious age. Anne was not alone in professing her innocence. As Sir Edward Baynton put it: “No man will confess any thing against her, but only Mark of any actual thing.” And even Eustace Chapuys, ambassador for the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V and Anne’s arch-enemy, would finally conclude that everyone besides Smeaton was “condemned upon presumption and certain indications, without valid proof or confession”. Theory: Anne Boleyn was the victim of a conspiracy orchestrated by Thomas Cromwell Another set of historians have favoured the explanation that Anne was the victim of a conspiracy by Thomas Cromwell and a court faction involving the Seymours. This rests upon a view of Henry as a pliable king whose courtiers could “bounce” him into action and tip him “by a crisis” into rejecting Anne. But why should Anne and Cromwell, erstwhile allies of a reformist bent, fall out? Differences of opinion are thought to have arisen over the use of funds from the dissolution of the monasteries, as well as matters of foreign policy – seemingly slender motives for destroying a queen. It has been suggested that Cromwell’s court faction intended to replace Anne with Jane Seymour. Chapuys mentioned Jane in a letter of 10 February 1536, reporting that Henry had sent her a gift of a purse full of sovereigns, accompanied by a letter. She did not open the letter, which – Ives speculated – contained a summons to the royal bed. Instead, she kissed it and returned it, asking the messenger to tell the king that “there was no treasure in this world that she valued as much as her honour,” and that if the king wanted to give her a present, she begged it might be at “such a time as God would be pleased to send her some advantageous marriage”. Such a calculated reply is reminiscent of Anne during the days of her courtship with Henry. In response to Jane’s coyness, Henry’s love for her was said to have “marvellously increased”. Yet she was described as a lady whom the king “serves” – a telling word implying that he sought her as his ‘courtly love’ mistress. There is little evidence that, before Anne was accused of adultery, Henry had planned to make Jane his wife. Marriage to Jane was, surely, a symptom and a product of Anne’s downfall, not a cause. The pivotal piece of evidence for a conspiracy is a remark made by Cromwell to Chapuys after Anne’s death. In a letter to Charles V, Chapuys wrote that Cromwell had told him “il se mist a fantasier et conspirer le dict affaire,” which has been translated as “he set himself to devise and conspire the said affair,” suggesting that Cromwell plotted against Anne. Crucially, however, this phrase is often used out of context. The previous sentence states that “he himself [Cromwell] had been authorised and commissioned by the king to prosecute and bring to an end the mistress’s trial, to do which he had taken considerable trouble.” If we accept this account, it is impossible to dismiss Henry VIII from the picture – Cromwell claimed not to be acting alone. It has been proposed, therefore, that Henry asked Cromwell to get rid of Anne. David Starkey suggested that “Anne’s proud and abrasive character soon became intolerable to her husband”. JJ Scarisbrick, author of the authoritative volume Henry VIII, agreed: “What had once been devastating infatuation turned into bloodthirsty loathing, for reasons we will never completely know.” Evidence for this view is taken from the writings of the ever-hopeful Chapuys. As a Catholic and a supporter of Catherine of Aragon, he referred to Anne as “the concubine” or “the she-devil”, and had made bitter assertions about the doomed state of Henry and Anne’s relationship even at the height of their happiness in late summer 1533. But Chapuys himself recognised that Henry and Anne had always been prone to “lovers’ quarrels”, and that the king’s character was very “changeable”. True, Henry and Anne were direct with each other: they got angry, shouted and became jealous. But they were also frequently described as being “merry” together; it was an epithet still being applied to them during the autumn of 1535 – and one that was appended to their marriage more often than to any of Henry’s other unions. Bernard has described theirs as a “tumultuous relationship of sunshine and storms”. Read more | The downfall of Thomas Cromwell Theory: The belief that Anne Boleyn could never provide a suitable heir Some have proposed that the miscarriage of a male foetus suffered by Anne in January 1536 led inexorably to her downfall. Did it cause Henry to believe that Anne would never be able to bear him an heir, and thus to consider the marriage doomed? Certainly, the king was reported to have shown “great disappointment and sorrow”. Chapuys wrote that Henry, during his visit to Anne’s chamber after the tragedy, said very little except: “I see that God will not give me male children.” Henry then left Anne at Greenwich to convalesce while he went to Whitehall to mark the feast day of St Matthew. Chapuys, rather maliciously, interpreted this as showing that Henry had abandoned Anne, “whereas in former times he could hardly be one hour without her”. Clearly, the miscarriage was a great blow to both Henry and Anne – yet another four months were to pass before Anne’s death, so demonstrating a direct link between the events would be problematic. Another story, reported third-hand by Chapuys, quotes Henry as telling an unidentified courtier that he had married Anne “seduced and constrained by sortilèges”. That last word translates as ‘sorcery, spells, charms’, and has given rise to the suggestion that Anne Boleyn dabbled in witchcraft. Though this is regularly cited as one of the charges of which she was found guilty, it is not mentioned in the indictment. Ives, though, pointed out that the primary English meaning of sortilèges at this time was ‘divination’, a translation that changes the meaning of Henry’s comment. It could imply that he was induced to marry Anne by premarital prophecies that she would bear sons, or could refer simply to Henry’s earlier infatuation or ‘bewitchment’ by Anne. The idea that Henry had been “seduced by witchcraft” has become attached to another theory, which holds that the real reason for Anne’s ruin was that the foetus miscarried in January 1536 was deformed. According to Tudor specialist Retha Warnicke, the delivery of a “shapeless mass of flesh” proved in Henry’s mind that Anne was both a witch and adulterously promiscuous. But this description comes from a Catholic propagandist, Nicholas Sander, writing 50 years later; there is no contemporary evidence to sustain this salacious theory. Theory: A combination of gossip and indescretions An event in April 1536 suggests that, just weeks before Anne was executed, Henry was still committed to his marriage. In the early months of 1536, Henry was increasing the pressure on Charles V to recognise Anne as his wife. On 18 April he invited Chapuys to the court. Events that day were very deliberately staged: the ambassador attended mass and, as Henry and Anne descended from the royal pew to the chapel, she stopped and bowed to Chapuys. Etiquette dictated that he return the gesture – a significant diplomatic coup, because it implied recognition by the ambassador and, by extension, his emperor. It would, as Bernard has argued, have been extraordinarily capricious of Henry to seek to have Anne recognised as his wife if he already harboured intentions of ridding himself of her soon after. So was it not guilt, nor a court coup, nor Henry’s hatred of Anne that led to her downfall but, rather, a terrible combination of malicious gossip and her own indiscretions? A poetic account written in June 1536 by Lancelot de Carles, secretary to the French ambassador, relates that one of Anne’s ladies-in-waiting, Elizabeth Browne, was accused of loose living. She made light of her own guilt by stating that “it was little in her case in comparison with that of the queen”. These words reached Cromwell who, according to de Carles, reported them to Henry; the king blanched and, very reluctantly, ordered him to investigate. This certainly aligns with Cromwell’s own retelling of the events. De Carles adds a crucial, though unsubstantiated, clause, Henry telling Cromwell that “if it turns out that your report, which I do not wish to believe, is untrue, you will receive pain of death in place of [the accused]”. So Cromwell may have had reason to find evidence of Anne’s guilt. Given that Anne was accused of conspiring the king’s death (the only charge that actually constituted treason – consensual adultery was not covered by the treason law of 1352), it seems likely that the evidence used to demonstrate her guilt was a conversation she recalled – and William Kingston reported – with Norris. Anne had asked Norris why he did not go through with his marriage. He had replied that “he wold tary a time,” leading her to taunt him with the fateful words “you loke for ded men’s showys; for yf owth cam to the King but good, you would loke to have me.” Norris’s flustered response – that “yf he should have any such thought, he wold hys hed war of” – provoked her to retort that “she could undo him if she would,” and “ther with thay felle yowt” (“there with they fell out”.) It might seem that this overstepped the normal boundaries of ‘courtly love’ talk only a little. But the Treasons Act of 1534 held that even imagining the death of the king was treasonous, so Anne’s conversation with Norris was charged, reckless and, arguably, fatal – useful ammunition if Cromwell were looking for dirt. Was it, as Greg Walker (author of Writing Under Tyranny) has suggested, not what Anne did but what she said that made her appear guilty? When it comes to Anne Boleyn’s fall, historians give their ‘best guess’ answers on the basis of the available evidence – which is too sparse to be conclusive. For my part, it is the final ‘cock-up theory’ that convinces me. I believe that Anne was innocent, but caught out by her careless words. Henry was convinced by the charges against her; it was a devastating blow from which he never recovered. For Anne, of course, the consequences were far more terrible. This article was first published in the April 2013 issue of BBC History Magazine
Elizabeth Norton considers the life and legacy of Katherine Parr, the Tudor queen who 'survived' Henry VIII – and why she deserves to be known for so much more
She was the most-married wife of England's most-married king, but there was so much more to Katherine Parr. Speaking to Kev Lochun, Tudor historian Elizabeth Norton explores the circumstances that brought the twice-widowed Katherine to the attention of Henry VIII, how she almost lost her head, and why her greatest legacy is not as a wife, but as an author and stepmother. View Green Video on the source website
Nicola Clark unveils the lives of six ladies-in-waiting who witnessed the tumultuous Tudor court of Henry VIII
Banished. Exiled. Died. Widowed. Berated. Survived. The ladies-in-waiting to Henry VIII’s wives were serious political operators with unparalleled access to the royal inner sanctum. In this Long Read written by Nicola Clark, we reveal how six of the most influential navigated the vipers’ nest that was the Tudor court. HistoryExtra Long Reads brings you the best articles from BBC History Magazine, direct to your ears. Today’s feature originally appeared in the June 2024 issue, and has been voiced in partnership with the RNIB.
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
The wife who not only survived, but thrived: why Tudor queen Katherine Parr was a firebrand
Wife number six, Katherine Parr, has long been cast as the queen who nursed an ailing Henry VIII through his final years. Yet, argues Lauren Mackay, there was a lot more to this scholar, role model and passionate religious reformer than that
During late summer 1544, Katherine Parr, sixth and final wife of Henry VIII, wrote a letter to her husband. Imbued with passion, love and a profound sense of duty, each line of Katherine’s missive is a testament to her devotion to the king. “Thus love maketh me in all things to set apart mine own convenience and pleasure, and to embrace most joyfully his will and pleasure whom I love,” Katherine declared. “God, the knower of secrets, can judge these words not to be written only with ink, but most truly impressed on the heart.” Henry received the letter while laying siege to the town of Boulogne, during what would be his final military campaign in France. Here was a leader embroiled in the great affairs of state. Yet so, too, was his queen. For, in his absence, Henry had appointed Katherine regent of England, an honour he had only bestowed on one of his previous five wives, Catherine of Aragon, decades earlier. Born in 1512, Katherine could not claim a royal upbringing, but she carried out her role of queen consort (1543–47) to perfection. She was a devoted wife, a loving stepmother, a unifier and a role model. Above all, as the responsibility she was given in the summer of 1544 demonstrates, she wielded influence – and commanded the respect of the king. Beneath her royal mantle of dutiful wife, she was a fiercely spiritual woman, of passionate religious and personal convictions. However, Katherine has not captured our imagination to the same degree as Henry’s first two queens, Catherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. Historian Susan James argues that Katherine has been marginalised primarily due to a lack of research into her life, as well as our lack of understanding of her role in the politics of Henry’s final years. Perhaps it is also a question of timing. The dramatic personal, political and religious events that engulfed the first three tumultuous decades of Henry’s reign shaped our view of the era for centuries to come, leaving little interest in the later part of his life. Our impressions of Katherine are also influenced by our knowledge of Henry’s ill-health, which led many 19th-century historians to diminish Katherine’s role, arguing that Henry chose a nursemaid for his wife. This version of Katherine was as a fitting companion for the ageing king, by then so corpulent of body and tyrannical of mind. She was a “sophisticated bluestocking”, a mature wife and confidante who cleaned the sores and changed the bandages on Henry’s ulcered legs, reading to him before bed – a maternal, soothing presence. It sounds like a dull story indeed, complete with history’s epithet for Katherine, that of “survivor”, as if to suggest that her sole achievement was to outlive Henry. The myth of the dull 'survivor' In recent decades, however, historians have challenged these old myths, most notably Katherine’s biographers, Linda Porter and Susan James, who have rejected the indifferent views of previous eras to rescue Katherine from obscurity. Moving away from the stereotype of the dutiful nursemaid, they have successfully demonstrated that her story is not simply one of survival. They present Katherine as an attractive, intelligent woman with a love of finery, dancing and music; as an influential queen, who actively engaged in and promoted religious reform; as a scholar and the first English woman to write and publish her own works under her own name; as a dedicated stepmother who shaped the lives and views of her royal stepchildren. On the podcast | Dr Estelle Paranque and Dr Tracy Borman reveal how Katherine Parr used her position to advance religious reform and bolster her own power Most married queen meets most married king Katherine Parr’s marital tally was only two short of Henry VIII’s notorious six. She married for duty as well as for love but, as her life after Henry’s death proves, could sometimes be blinded by the latter. She could be impulsive and irrational, human traits that make her all the more accessible to us today. Katherine enters the royal sources late in Henry’s life, but her family had been part of the Tudor social fabric for many years, and her parents were actively engaged at the court of the young Henry VIII. Her father, Thomas, was part of the king’s circle; her mother, Maud, was a close friend and lady-in-waiting to Catherine of Aragon; and her uncle, William Parr, served as chamberlain in the household of Henry’s illegitimate son, Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond. Katherine Parr as a stepmother to Mary Her influence on the king's eldest daughter was not as a mother, but a role model Henry’s decision to annul his marriage to Catherine of Aragon upended the life of his elder daughter, Mary. Once Henry’s “pearl of the world”, Mary was now exiled from her father, and forbidden to see her mother. Katherine campaigned for Mary’s restoration to the succession. With only four years between them, she never tried to be a mother figure to Mary. Instead, she was a role model, and Mary would have observed how Katherine used her power as a regent. The two women shared a love of music, with Katherine sending Mary musicians she might enjoy. They also held similar intellectual interests, and Katherine supported Mary’s scholarly pursuits. Both Mary and Katherine admired the philos pher Desiderius Erasmus, and Katherine encouraged Mary to translate his work and publish under her own name. Tension crept into the relationship, not because of their religious differences (Mary was devoutly Catholic), but because of Katherine’s choice to remarry so hastily following Henry’s death. As time progressed, however, warmth seeped back into their correspondence, especially when Katherine became pregnant. In 1529, at the age of 17, Katherine was married to Sir Edward Burgh, but the union was short-lived, with Edward dying in 1533. Just over a year later, Katherine married the twice widowed John Neville, Baron Latimer, from one of the most influential families in the north. She was now a woman of position and influence. The loyalty of the Latimers to the king was tested during the rebellion known as the Pilgrimage of Grace in 1536, which ignited in Yorkshire and spread to other parts of the country. The young Katherine witnessed a mob of religious rebels ransacking their residence, taking Latimer with them in an attempt to coerce him into joining the pilgrimage. They later went so far as to hold Katherine and her stepchildren hostage in Snape Castle, threatening to kill the family if Latimer did not comply. Read more | Dr Estelle Paranque reveals why Katherine Parr’s family home of Snape Castle was transformed into her hated prison While no violence came to pass, in the aftermath Latimer felt it prudent to attend court with his wife often, to prove his loyalty to the crown. Latimer’s health declined in late 1542, and in February 1543 (a month before Latimer’s death), the king emerged as a potential suitor. Henry was then two decades older than the 30-year-old Katherine and, to complicate matters, she had already fallen in love with Thomas Seymour, the brother of Henry’s third wife, Jane. The two had even discussed a mutual life after Latimer’s death. By now, however, Henry was determined to marry Katherine. Parr's relationship with Henry VIII was not that of a nurse-maid In her, he sought the full package: a companion who would share his bed, as well as his own interests; a wife who could take care of him; and a dignified queen who would also be a mother figure to his children. His attachment put an end to Katherine and Thomas’s relationship. She chose duty over love. She married Henry in the Queen’s Closet at Hampton Court Palace on 12 July 1543, in the presence of Henry’s three children, Mary, Elizabeth and Edward. Her letters to Thomas Seymour, however, following Henry’s death in 1547 speak of the emotional turmoil she felt even as she accepted her fate: “As truly as God is God, my mind was fully bent the other time I was at liberty, 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 me to renounce utterly mine own will and to follow His will most willingly.” Read more | Did Henry VIII love his last wife Katherine Parr? Despite her feelings towards Seymour, there is ample evidence to suggest genuine love and affection between the royal couple, even a physical attraction. Moving behind the doors of the bedchamber, we know that the marriage was consummated, perhaps assisted by Katherine’s penchant for black satin nightgowns, similar in style to those that Henry had once gifted to Anne Boleyn. How Katherine Parr channelled the five queens before her It is also clear that Katherine’s deeply held religious beliefs surpassed all else, and she genuinely believed that her new position as queen had been divinely guided, bestowing on her a spiritual purpose. Katherine chose the motto “To be useful in all I do”, a promise she took to heart. Whether by design or not, she embodied some of the more admirable traits of her five predecessors. Katherine commanded the respect of the court, just as Catherine of Aragon had done. Echoing Jane Seymour, she sought to strengthen the bonds between Henry and his children. Like Anne of Cleves, she could be tactful in expressing her views and understood when to capitulate. Much like Catherine Howard, she had a lively disposition, and was fond of music, dancing, fashion and jewellery. And like Anne Boleyn, she had a burgeoning interest in religious reform and used her royal position to promote it. Katherine Parr as a stepmother to Edward Loving and attentive, she was the mother he never had Edward had grown up without a mother, and Katherine, to a certain extent, fulfilled this role, taking charge of the young heir’s education and upbringing. Katherine certainly helped shape his religious beliefs, appointing reformist and humanist tutors for both him and his sister, Elizabeth. Katherine’s correspondence with her stepson clearly shows their close and affectionate bond. Edward was only nine years old when he took the throne in 1547, and there is some indication that Katherine had hoped to remain as regent until he was of a more suitable age to rule by himself. Instead, Henry appointed a regency council, and the young boy was surrounded by ambitious men with their own agendas, in particular his uncles, Edward and Thomas Seymour. King Edward was close to his uncle Thomas, and when Katherine married Thomas secretly, the couple petitioned the king to shield them from the anger of the royal council, and Edward Seymour, Lord Protector. While Edward knew the marriage would cause scandal, his letter to Katherine demonstrates his love for his stepmother, concluding: “Wherefore, if there be anything wherein I may do you a kindness, either in word or deed, I will do it willingly.” We do not have evidence of Edward’s reaction to Katherine’s death, but he likely mourned the loss of the woman who had been such an important presence in his life. The religious rift between Katherine Parr and Henry VIII The queen’s rooms were a place to engage in spirited theological debates, where she hosted sermons by leading reformers and promoted the study of evangelical texts. She believed that scripture was the sole authority for the Christian faith. In 1544, she published anonymously an English translation of Latin psalms. Katherine was emboldened by her success and heartened by Henry’s confidence in her, as evidenced when he entrusted her as regent. Her 1545 publication, Prayers or Meditations, was an English compilation of devotional texts, which made clear her intention to publicly champion reform. In the final years of Henry’s reign, especially as his health began to fail, factional politics was rampant and religious policy became contradictory, often due to the king’s ever-changing whim. Conservative spheres at court were clawing back whatever religious authority they could, and Katherine attracted their attention when her religious views moved beyond her own chambers. She took delight in engaging her husband in religious debate, often directly encouraging him to continue what he had begun when he broke from Rome in order to marry Anne Boleyn. This, however, was a misstep. Henry’s anti-papal stance was for the most part political, but at his core, Henry was conservative in his faith, and would not tolerate being lectured to on matters of religion. His increasing irritation allowed the conservative faction to move against Katherine and those close to her, until finally the queen herself was alerted that a warrant had been drawn up for her arrest, with the king’s permission. This was a pivotal moment for Katherine, and her course of action very likely saved her life. She visited her husband’s rooms, and a conversation about religion arose. 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 But she would not allow herself to be drawn in to the discussion and conceded that her opinions were those of a mere woman, whereas it was best that she was guided by her husband, “a prince of such excellent learning and wisdom”. Henry had “much mistaken the freedom she had taken to argue with him”, she stated, which she had only done to learn from him, and in which she engaged in the hope that it would provide a distraction from his pain and illness. The queen knew every note to hit and by the end of the night they were reconciled. However, Henry’s council, unaware of the update, interrupted the royal couple the next day to arrest Katherine, and were given a very public dressing down. Henry’s authority over his wife as well as his councillors was re-affirmed in a most public fashion. View Green Video on the source website The one who “survived”: life after Henry VIII Katherine was wise enough to bide her time before promoting her religious cause again. She did not have to wait long, as Henry’s health began to decline in 1546, and on 28 January 1547 he died. Katherine became queen dowager to lead the nation in mourning. She had indeed outlived Henry and negotiated her own survival. Throughout, she had showed remarkable clarity of thought. In fact, only one man seemed to bring out her more impulsive nature, and would prove to be her undoing, tainting her reputation for centuries to come. That man was her fourth husband, Thomas Seymour. We do not know exactly when Katherine married Thomas, but we do know that she caused a scandal at court, and risked her close relationship with her stepchildren by cutting the traditional mourning period alarmingly short. Katherine Parr as a stepmother to Elizabeth The two formed a deep and strong relationship, threatened by Katherine's new husband Of all her stepchildren, the bond between Katherine and Elizabeth was especially strong. Elizabeth was not even three years old when her father executed her mother, Anne Boleyn, and Katherine genuinely adored her stepdaughter as if she were her own child. There is some evidence that Katherine wanted to honour Anne Boleyn and keep her memory alive for her daughter. Katherine recognised in Elizabeth a keen intelligence and aptitude for learning, and she appointed tutors of whom Anne Boleyn would have approved. Elizabeth was a keen student; for a new year’s day gift in 1545, the 11-year-old translated the theological work The Mirror of the Sinful Soul, written by Marguerite of Navarre, the sister of the French king, Francis I, and a woman Anne Boleyn knew well from her time in France. Read more | The three French queens who inspired Anne Boleyn Elizabeth also embroidered the cover, and dedicated it to Katherine, writing: “To our most noble and virtuous Queen Katherine, Elizabeth her humble daughter wisheth perpetual felicity and everlasting joy.” Following Henry’s death, Elizabeth came to live with Katherine and her husband, Thomas Seymour, at Sudeley Castle. Scandal erupted in the household when Thomas attempted to seduce the young Elizabeth under his wife’s nose. There was clearly a breakdown in what had been a close and loving relationship, and Elizabeth was sent away while a pregnant Katherine prepared for her confinement. Letters between the two repaired their bond to some extent, but they would never see one another again, and with Katherine’s death, Elizabeth lost one of the most influential women in her life. Elizabeth would feel the absence of Katherine’s guidance for years to come, but in Elizabeth’s reign, we see elements of Katherine’s influence. Katherine had gambled everything on a marriage for love, but it would be far from happy. Seymour was ambitious and reckless, inviting even more scandal when accusations of gross impropriety were lodged against him regarding his behaviour towards Katherine’s 14-year-old stepdaughter, Elizabeth, who lived with them at Sudeley Castle. Read more | Did Thomas Seymour sexually abuse the teenage Princess Elizabeth? The scandal caused deep rifts between the couple, but they seemed to reconcile. In late 1547, Katherine fell pregnant and gave birth at Sudeley on 30 August to a daughter named Mary. Katherine Parr's happiness was short lived. Likely suffering from puerperal fever, she died on 5 September 1548, aged 35 or 36. Following her death Katherine’s commitment to reformed religion became clearer than ever, as hers was the first Protestant burial conducted in English. Her place in the story of the English Reformation was assured. Katherine’s life is rich with passion and scandal. Yet it’s seldom told – long eclipsed by the men in her life. However, we are now seeing a shift in the trend, with the popular Starz series Becoming Elizabeth depicting a younger and far more vibrant Katherine. The 2024 movie Firebrand will be the first to feature Katherine as the main protagonist. It seems that our attention is at last turning to this fascinating woman, with all her imperfections and complexities. After almost 500 years, Katherine Parr deserves to step out of the shadows and take centre stage. This article was first published in the March 2023 issue of BBC History Magazine
Anne Boleyn: your guide to the life and death of Henry VIII's second queen – plus 11 little-known facts
Anne Boleyn is the most famous of Henry VIII's six wives, queen of England from 1533 to 1536. Did you know that she nearly died of the sweating sickness, and was the second cousin of Jane Seymour, who became the king's third wife after Anne Boleyn's execution? Dr Elizabeth Norton brings you a guide to life of the Tudor consort, plus 11 facts surprising…
Anne Boleyn was born around 1501, in Norfolk, to Sir Thomas Boleyn and his wife, Elizabeth Howard, daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. She was the second of three surviving children. Boleyn is known to history as the second wife and queen of King Henry VIII, who broke from Rome and created the Church of England in order to divorce his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, and marry Boleyn. They went on to marry in secret on 25 January 1533. Boleyn was the mother of Elizabeth I, the second daughter of the Tudor king. She reigned between 1533-36, before being arrested for adultery and incest, taken to the Tower of London and later executed on 19 May 1536 at Tower Green. She was succeeded by Jane Seymour, Henry VIII’s third wife. Read more | Who were Henry VIII’s six wives? Your guide to the Tudor king's queen consorts Timeline: The rise and fall of Anne Boleyn Written by Professor Suzannah Lipscomb 1501 (or possibly 1507): Anne Boleyn's birth Anne is born at Blickling, Norfolk, to Thomas Boleyn and his wife, Elizabeth (daughter of Thomas Howard, later second Duke of Norfolk). Historians debate whether Anne was born in 1501 or 1507; the former is more plausible 1513: The first post Anne is appointed a maid-of-honour at the court of Margaret, archduchess of Austria; she later leaves to serve Mary, queen of France, wife of Louis XII (and Henry VIII’s sister). After Louis’ death, Anne remains at the court of the new French queen, Claude, for seven years 1521: The repatriation Anne is recalled to England by her father 1 March 1522: The court appearance Anne makes her first recorded appearance at Henry VIII’s court, playing the part of Perseverance in a Shrove Tuesday pageant. At that time, Henry was having an affair with Anne’s sister, Mary c1526: The object of love Henry VIII falls in love with Anne. A letter from him, dated to 1527, states that for more than one year Henry had been “struck by the dart of love” and asks Anne to “give herself body and heart to him” 1532/33: The royal wedding Anne marries Henry. The official wedding is held in January 1533, but they are probably married secretly at Dover in October 1532. Henry’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon is not annulled until May 1533 7 September 1533: The birth Anne gives birth to a daughter, Elizabeth 29 January 1536: The miscarriage Anne miscarries a male foetus 2 May 1536: The accusations Anne is arrested and taken to the Tower, along with her brother George Boleyn, Lord Rochford 19 May 1536: The execution Anne is beheaded on Tower Green within the Tower of London How did Anne Boleyn meet Henry VIII? Anne Boleyn was educated in Brussels and Paris, before returning to England in 1522 to serve Henry VIII’s first wife, Catherine of Aragon. She caused a stir at court, captivating both the heir to the earldom of Northumberland and the poet Sir Thomas Wyatt, who called her ‘Fair Brunet’. By 1526 the king was also interested in the dark-haired young woman. Anne had no intention of becoming the king’s mistress. Undeterred, Henry VIII bombarded her with letters, professing himself “stricken with the dart of love”. In May 1527 he began his long attempt to secure a papal annulment of his marriage to Catherine. Read more | How Anne Boleyn's years on the continent made her a match for Henry VIII Anne was soon queen in all but name. She was now a political figure, instrumental in the fall of Cardinal Wolsey in 1529. On 1 September 1532 she was created Lady Marquis of Pembroke, giving her sufficient status to accompany Henry on a visit to France the following month. She fell pregnant shortly afterwards, with the couple marrying in secret on 25 January 1533. But although finally married, Henry still needed to disentangle himself from Catherine of Aragon. Anne, understandably, was anti-papal. She brought Simon Fish’s anti-clerical The Supplication of Beggars to Henry’s attention. He put increasing pressure on the clergy, forcing them to accept him as ‘Supreme Head of the Church of England’ in 1531. In early 1533 Thomas Cranmer, a Boleyn family chaplain and the new Archbishop of Canterbury, repudiated his allegiance to the pope, before annulling Henry’s first marriage and crowning Anne. How many children did Anne Boleyn have? On 7 September 1533 Anne gave birth to a daughter, Elizabeth. Within months of their wedding Henry was unfaithful, informing Anne that “she must shut her eyes, and endure as well as more worthy persons, and that she ought to know that it was in his power to humble her again in a moment more than he had exalted her”. When Anne miscarried a son shortly after Catherine of Aragon’s death in January 1536, he declared ominously that “he would have no more boys by her”. He had already fallen in love with Jane Seymour, and was soon looking to end his marriage. What did Elizabeth I think of her mother, Anne Boleyn? Tracy Borman explains View Green Video on the source website Why was Anne Boleyn arrested? On 30 April 1536, under torture, a musician named Mark Smeaton confessed to a sexual relationship with Anne. Two days later the queen was arrested for adultery and incest, and taken to the Tower of London. Anne, her brother, Smeaton and three other men were convicted on trumped-up charges, with the men executed on 17 May. That same day, the royal marriage was annulled. On 19 May 1536, Anne Boleyn walked to a scaffold on Tower Green. After making a short speech, she knelt as a French swordsman – sent for as a small act of mercy by the king – stepped up behind her and severed her head with one blow. Read more about the final days and death of Anne Boleyn The death of Anne Boleyn shocked her contemporaries. As well as her involvement in religious reform, her greatest legacy is her daughter, Elizabeth I, who became one of England’s greatest monarchs. 11 little-known facts about Anne Boleyn Her great-grandfather Geoffrey Boleyn was a hatter The Boleyn family had humble origins in the Norfolk village of Salle. Early ancestors were relatively prosperous peasants, with Anne’s great-great-grandfather, Geoffrey Boleyn, several times finding himself hauled before the manorial court for trespassing on his lord’s land, ploughing through field boundaries and taking water from the manor without payment. He was affluent enough to set up his younger son, another Geoffrey Boleyn, as a hatter in London in the 1430s. This second Geoffrey made a success of his career, joining the prestigious Mercer’s Company in 1435 and growing wealthy. In 1457 he served as Lord Mayor of London while his second wife, Anne Hoo, was the daughter of a baron. He also purchased the manor of Blickling in Norfolk, becoming a solid member of the gentry by the time of his death. Anne nearly married her Irish cousin, James Butler, 9th Earl of Ormond Anne originally returned from France early in 1522 to marry her cousin, James Butler. Both her father, Sir Thomas Boleyn, and James’s father, Piers, claimed the Earldom of Ormond, which had belonged to her great-grandfather. Anne’s uncle, the Earl of Surrey, suggested to the king that the dispute be settled by a marriage between Anne and James. The Boleyns were unenthusiastic, however, and the proposal was eventually dropped. Thanks to Anne’s relationship with the king, an agreement was finally reached in 1528 with Thomas Boleyn becoming Earl of Ormond and Piers Butler Earl of Ossory. Anne’s mother, Elizabeth Howard, was rumoured to have been Henry VIII’s mistress While it is well known that Anne’s sister, Mary Boleyn, was the king’s mistress, there were also contemporary rumours that their mother, Elizabeth Howard, had shared the king’s bed. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2020/10/MX1AK9-d74bad5.jpg" width="619" height="413" alt="The real Mary Boleyn remains an elusive Tudor personality, flitting in and out of the sources, says historian Lauren Mackay. (Image by Alamy)" title="The real Mary Boleyn remains an elusive Tudor personality, flitting in and out of the sources, says historian Lauren Mackay. (Image by Alamy)" /> In 1533 Elizabeth Amadas, who was the wife of a London goldsmith, declared publicly that Thomas Boleyn “was bawd both to his wife and his two daughters”, while Sir George Throckmorton told Henry to his face that “it is thought you have meddled both with the mother and sister”. Read more | Henry VIII’s mistresses: who else did the Tudor king sleep with? Later in the 16th century it was claimed by the Jesuit Nicholas Sander that Anne was Henry VIII’s own daughter. Elizabeth was some years older than Henry, and it is improbable that she actually was his mistress, particularly since he denied it to Throckmorton, declaring “never with the mother” when challenged. Anne Boleyn nearly died of the sweating sickness The sweating sickness, which may have been a type of influenza, plagued Tudor England, and was notable for the speed in which it could kill an otherwise young and healthy victim. As Cardinal du Bellay, the French ambassador, put it, “it is the easiest in the world to die of”. Henry VIII was terrified of the disease and when, in June 1528, one of Anne’s ladies succumbed to the sweat, he fled 12 miles away, before ordering Anne home to Kent. Henry’s precautions, although unchivalrous, were sensible, since Anne did indeed prove to have been infected. Both she and her father became ill at Hever, with Henry sending his second-best doctor (since his first was unavailable) to treat her. Given the dangerous nature of the disease, Anne and her father were both lucky to survive – her brother-in-law, William Carey, died in the outbreak, as did many other members of the court. Read more | Did Anne Boleyn have six fingers on one hand? She was not the only Anne Boleyn at court Anne was a popular name in the Boleyn family, with her great-grandmother, Anne Hoo, being one of the first Anne Boleyns. Queen Anne Boleyn also had an aunt called Anne Boleyn, who married Sir John Shelton. She was close to her niece and with her sister Alice Boleyn, Lady Clere, was appointed to the household of Princess Elizabeth. As part of her role, Lady Shelton was also placed in charge of her niece’s stepdaughter, Princess Mary, who refused to recognise the royal marriage. In February 1534 Anne wrote to Lady Shelton to ensure that Mary no longer used her title of princess, telling her to “slap her face as the cursed bastard that she was” if she persisted. Lady Shelton lived in terror that people would think she had poisoned the elder princess if she fell ill, and she gradually began to befriend her charge. She and Anne had become estranged by the time of the queen’s arrest in May 1536. 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 Jane Seymour was Anne’s second cousin Surprisingly, Anne’s mother, Elizabeth Howard, was the first cousin of Jane Seymour’s mother, Margery Wentworth. The cousins were raised together at Sheriff Hutton Castle in Yorkshire, under the governance of Elizabeth Howard’s mother, Elizabeth Tylney, Countess of Surrey, who was the half-sister of Margery’s mother. While there, both Elizabeth Howard and Margery Wentworth attracted the attention of the poet John Skelton. He called Elizabeth “lusty to look on, pleasant, demure and sage”, while Margery was “benign, courteous, and meek”. There is little evidence for a relationship between Anne and Jane, although both were close to their mutual cousin, Sir Francis Bryan, who was responsible for first securing a court post for Jane. She came to blows with Jane Seymour early in 1536 Anne Boleyn was uncomfortably aware of the growing relationship between Henry and her maid, Jane Seymour, in the early months of 1536. As he had done early in his relationship with Anne, Henry gave Jane his picture, which she wore around her neck. When the queen saw this, she snatched it from her rival so violently that she hurt her hand. Jane Dormer, who later served Princess Mary, also claimed that there was often scratching and blows between Anne and Jane. Anne unwittingly caused the arrest of Sir Francis Weston Mark Smeaton, a musician in Anne’s household, was arrested on 30 April 1536 and interrogated. A series of arrests followed, with Anne taken to the Tower on 2 May, accused of adultery and incest. While there, she spoke unguardedly, mentioning conversations that she had had with Mark Smeaton and another of the accused men, Henry Norris – all of which was noted down and reported to Henry by the lieutenant of the Tower. Anne unwittingly also brought Sir Francis Weston into the investigation, when she claimed that he had once professed his love for her. Weston, who was a popular young man at court, had not previously been included in the investigation, but this was enough to ensure that he, and four other men, were executed on 17 May 1536. Anne was beheaded two days later. Anne Boleyn’s sister, Mary, may have given birth to a daughter of Henry VIII Relatively little is known about Anne Boleyn’s sister, Mary, though she was at the heart of the Tudor court. But we do know, explains Tudor historian Suzannah Lipscomb, that while married to William Carey Mary conducted a discreet affair with Henry VIII, and that years later, when her sister, Anne, was queen, she married a lowly man 12 years her junior for love, writing about him, rather pointedly, “I had rather beg my bread with him than be the greatest queen christened”. Reviewing Alison Weir’s 2011 book Mary Boleyn: 'The Great and Infamous Whore’, Lipscomb told HistoryExtra: “Arguably the greatest question about Mary is whether she bore Henry VIII’s children. Weir argues decisively that Henry Carey was not Henry VIII’s son, pointing out that this is based on just one fragment of malicious gossip from John Hale, vicar of Isleworth. Weir provocatively, though, asserts the ‘strong possibility’ that Katherine Carey was Henry’s daughter, although the evidence she provides confirms that it is quite simply that – a possibility.” 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? Elizabeth Norton is the author of The Anne Boleyn Papers and Anne Boleyn: Henry VIII's Obsession, both published by Amberley. You can visit Elizabeth’s website or follow her on X @ENortonHistory
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