Susan Higginbotham's Blog: History Refreshed by Susan HIgginbotham, page 28

A Word About Wakefield

I'm feeling very guilty because this is the 550th anniversary of the Battle of Wakefield, fought on December 30, 1460, and I haven't prepared a proper post. All I can really do today, then, is ramble a bit.

My own belief is that Henry VI--isolated from his supporters and probably fragile mentally--was bullied into accepting the Act of Accord under which it was agreed that Richard, Duke of York, would reign after Henry's death, thereby disinheriting his own son. The chronicler Gregory writes that after York arrived at Westminster, "he kepte Kynge Harry there by fors and strengythe, tylle at the laste the kynge for fere of dethe grauntyd hym [t]e crowne, for a man that hathe by lytylle wytte wylle sone be a feryd of dethe, and yet I truste and bee-leve there was no man that wolde doo hym bodely harme." The Crowland Chronicler tells of York compelling Henry "to remove to the queen's apartments," while Whethamstede writes that York "went to the principal chamber of the palace (the king being in the queen's apartments), smashed the locks and threw open the doors, in a regal rather than a ducal manner." If such (literally) strong-arm tactics were being employed publicly, what type of pressure might have been applied to the king in private?

Once Henry VI entered into the Act of Accord, his supporters could have hardly believed that the future boded well for him. York and his ally the Earl of Warwick had shown no hesitation in ridding themselves of their political enemies at the first battle of St. Albans and at Northampton. The Duke of York was older than Henry VI and faced the prospect that if nature were allowed to take its course, the king might outlive him, thereby cheating him of the crown. Under these circumstances, I think it highly likely that Henry VI's days were numbered once he agreed to make York his heir. (If this was the period during which Henry VI went to Westminster to search out his final resting place, he may have thought so too.) Some convenient accident could have been arranged to befall the king. Even if he were persuaded to abdicate instead of waiting for death to claim him, his prospects as an ex-king would have seemed bleak, given the examples of Edward II and Richard II.

Henry VI's queen and his son--who under the Act of Accord would be left with nothing after the death of Henry VI, not even the Duchy of Lancaster--had equal cause to worry about the future. Gregory tells of the "counterfeit tokens" purporting to be from the king that were sent to Margaret (then in Wales) in an attempt to lure her to London; it seems unlikely that the Duke of York was planning a banquet in her honor. Already the Yorkists had circulated rumors about the legitimacy of her son: could York had been planning to start formal proceedings declaring Edward of Lancaster to be a bastard? Or might York have intended to attack the validity of Margaret's marriage to Henry VI? Perhaps York was planning a simpler, more brutal solution. The older he grew, the more of a threat Edward of Lancaster would pose to York and his progeny, even if he were to be officially declared a bastard. Had Margaret of Anjou been foolish enough to let him fall into Yorkist hands, the boy might well have become the first Prince in the Tower, disappearing like the sons of Edward IV did during Richard III's reign. Or perhaps he might have been imprisoned and eventually executed, as the Earl of Warwick would be during Henry VII's reign.

All of this is speculation, of course. But it's speculation that likely occurred to Margaret of Anjou and her followers as they raised troops to oppose the Duke of York. Under those circumstances, the duke and those who fought alongside him could hardly expect mercy from the Lancastrians, and it's no surprise that they didn't receive it at Wakefield.

Get It While It's Free!

I wanted to let you know that my publisher, Sourcebooks, is offering several e-books free, including my first novel, The Traitor's Wife! I'm not sure how long the promotion lasts, so now's the time to get over and download your copy! You can go to the publisher's website or to various other e-book vendor sites.

While I'm here, I must say that I'm looking forward to Christmas, but even more so to New Year's Day, because that's when The Queen of Last Hopes will be published! After seeing so many novels where Margaret of Anjou is reduced to a cackling caricature (and one recent one where it's even hinted that she and her son have an incestuous relationship), I'm hoping that my novel will make some readers see Margaret in a sympathetic light and to appreciate the complexity of the situation with which she was faced.

I may not stop by again until after Christmas, so Merry Christmas! Hope it's a great one for you.

A Christmas Scene at Barnes and Noble

While buying a gift card at Barnes and Noble today, I overheard the following exchange:

Clueless customer: "Do you sell Kindle gift cards?"

Clerk: "No, we have Nooks here."

Clueless customer: "I need a gift card for my friend."

Clerk: "Well, the Nook gift cards are right here."

Clueless customer: "But where are the Kindle gift cards?"

Clerk: (steadfastly refusing to mention the "A" word: "All we sell here are Nook gift cards."

This (with inspiration from my husband and apologies to Dr. Seuss) led to the following poem:

You say you wish to buy a Kindle in our store,
But that is a thing we most abhor!
If you shop here you must buy a Nook,
Or go without reading an electronic book.
No Kindle can be found in our aisles,
To mention the name is so very vile!
Our shelves are lined with pretty Nooks,
We think the Kindle is for kooks.
If you must buy the Amazon devil device,
(And we really wish you would think twice),
You must not think to buy it here,
For its name dampens our Christmas cheer.
So buy your Kindle, if you really must,
But don't ask for any help from us.

2010 Virtual Advent Tour: In the Pink, and Some Tudor Presents

Welcome to my blog! I'm delighted to be participating in the 2010 Virtual Advent Tour, as I have over the past couple years.

First, my family and I got a little goofy this year. Not only did we decide to buy an artificial Christmas tree (a very popular decision with my husband, who didn't have to wrestle it into a stand or water it), we decided to get a PINK artificial Christmas tree. And boy, is it pink! Next year, we hope to have more color-coordinated trimmings on it, the better to revel in its sheer pinkness.



Second, as you might not know if you're stopping by here for the first time, I write historical fiction, and the novel I'm working on presently is set in Tudor England. So for this year's Advent tour, I thought it would be fun to imagine what self-help books some of the Tudor gang might be hoping to get this year for Christmas. (All the books are real and can be found on Amazon.)

Margaret Beaufort: The Single Mother's Guide to Raising Remarkable Boys.

Henry Tudor: What's Next? Follow Your Passion and Find Your Dream Job.

Elizabeth of York: When He's Married to Mom: How to Help Mother-Enmeshed Men Open Their Hearts to True Love and Commitment.

Henry VIII: Winning Your Divorce: A Man's Survival Guide.

Catherine of Aragon: What to Do When He Says I Don't Love You Anymore.

Anne Boleyn: Mr. Right, Right Now! How a Smart Woman Can Land Her Dream Man in 6 Weeks.

Jane Seymour: Dating The Divorced Man: Sort Through the Baggage to Decide If He's Right for You.

Anne of Cleves: Still Friends: Living Happily Ever After...Even If Your Marriage Falls Apart.

Catherine Howard: Are You Keeping a Secret?: Finding Freedom from Hidden Issues That Can Ravage Your Life.

Katherine Parr: Liberating Losses: When Death Brings Relief.

Anne Stanhope: You Say I'm a Bitch Like It's a Bad Thing.

Edward VI: The Teenager's Guide to the Awesome God.

Jane Grey: A Smart Girl's Guide to Sticky Situations: How to Tackle Tricky, Icky Problems and Tough Times.

Guildford Dudley: Teenage Survival Manual: How to Reach 20 in One Piece.

Mary I: He's Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys.

Elizabeth I: A Passion for Purity: Protecting God's Precious Gift of Virginity.

Mary, Queen of Scots: Smart Women/Foolish Choices: Finding the Right Men Avoiding the Wrong Ones.

I'll probably get in a couple of more posts before the year ends, but just in case you don't get another chance to stop in before 2011, I'd like to wish you a very Merry Christmas (if you celebrate it) and a Happy New Year!

Happy Anniversary to Edward of Lancaster and Anne Neville!

On December 13, 1470, Edward of Lancaster and Anne Neville were married. Their marriage was due to one of the more unlikely alliances of the Wars of the Roses, that between Margaret of Anjou, Edward's mother, and Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, Anne's father. Anne, born on June 11, 1456, was fourteen; her groom, born on October 13, 1453, was seventeen.

The marriage had been in the works for some time. Edward and Anne had been betrothed at Angers on July 25, 1470. A proxy may have stood in for Anne, for she might not have even been present: Sforza de Bettini, the Milanese ambassador in France, wrote from Angers on July 24, 1470, that Warwick, Margaret of Anjou, and Edward were at Angers, but he did not mention Anne's presence. On July 28, 1470, he wrote that Anne had been "sent for" to Amboise, where the marriage would be consummated. In fact, between the need for a papal dispensation and the need of Warwick to take England for his new Lancastrian allies, the marriage itself would not take place for months.

A papal dispensation was issued on August 17, 1470, but Michael Hicks suggests that this was found wanting in some respect, as another dispensation was issued on November 28, 1470. In the meantime, Warwick had restored Edward's father, Henry VI, to the throne. With the dispensation granted and Warwick's mission accomplished, the last obstacles to the couple's marriage had been removed.

Thanks to historical fiction, with considerable help from nonfiction like Paul Murray Kendall's biography of Richard III, two myths surrounding the marriage of Anne and Edward have become firmly entrenched: the first, that Anne was aghast at the thought of marrying Edward because she had long been in love with her childhood sweetheart, Richard, Duke of Gloucester; the second, that Edward of Lancaster was a cruel youth who mistreated his young bride. Neither myth has any basis in fact. Anne and Richard did know each other in their youth, but what each thought about the other is unrecorded. As for Edward's personality, I've posted about this before, but it's worth mentioning again that the famous comment that he talked of "nothing but of cutting off heads or making war, as if he had everything in his hands or was the god of battle or the peaceful occupant of that throne," should not be taken as the sum total of his character, as it too often is. The comment was made when Edward was only thirteen, and the source was an ambassador who was hostile to the House of Anjou and who may have never met Edward in person. In any case, there is no historical evidence that Edward mistreated Anne. Indeed, we have no idea of what either spouse felt about the other or about their marriage. No one recorded the private interactions of the two teenagers or was inclined to speculate upon their thoughts; all eyes were on their parents.

While the dispensation was being sought and while Warwick was re-establishing Lancastrian rule in England, Edward, Anne, and their mothers were at the Chateau of Amboise (pictured above), where King Louis XI himself was in residence. There they were married on December 13, 1470, by the Grand Vicar of Bayeux. Kendall with his usual bias describes the marriage as "something of a hole-and-corner affair," though it is hard to understand how a marriage performed by the Grand Vicar of Bayeux at a royal palace where the French king himself was present can merit such a description. (In fact, we know far more about this "hole-and-corner" marriage than we do about Anne's second marriage to the Duke of Gloucester, for which we don't know the date, the location, the identity of the person who officiated, or the identity of any of the guests.)

Whether the marriage was consummated is unknown. I've blogged about this elsewhere and won't repeat myself at length, but I'm inclined to think that it was, as it would have been foolish of Margaret to alienate Warwick by preventing its consummation. Louis XI, who had worked hard to promote the marriage and who had been supporting the pair and their mothers at his court, would have also been furious had Margaret refused to allow the young couple to bed together.

The day after their marriage, the newlyweds and their mothers went to Paris, where Louis had arranged for them to be greeted by city and university officials. They entered the city through the Porte Saint-Jacques, passing through streets that in their honor were lavishly decorated with tapestries and other hangings, before arriving at their lodgings at the Palais (on the site of the present Palais de Justice complex, if I'm not mistaken, and I hope someone will correct me if I am). From Paris, the couple went to Normandy. They at last returned to England in April, where they were confronted with the disastrous news of Warwick's defeat and death at Barnet.

Happy or unhappy, the couple's marriage ended on May 4, 1471, when Edward of Lancaster was killed at Tewkesbury. The pair had been married for less than six months.

Sources:

Calendar of State Papers and Manuscripts in the Archives and Collections of Milan: 1385-1618

J. Calmette and G. Perinelle, Louis XI et L'Angleterre. Paris: Editions Auguste Picard, 1930.

Peter Clarke, "English Royal Marriages and the Papal Penetentiary in the Fifteenth Century." English Historical Review, 2005.

Michael Hicks, Anne Neville, Queen to Richard III. Stroud, Gloucestershire: Tempus, 2006.

Michael Hicks, Warwick the Kingmaker. Oxford: Blackwell, 2002 (paperback edition).

Margaret Kekewich, The Good King: René of Anjou and Fifteenth Century Europe. Palgrave Macmillan: 2008.

Jean de Roye, Chronique Scandaleuse, 1460-1483, ed. B. de Mandrot, volume I. Paris: 1894.

Dressed to Be Killed: Some Tudor Execution Wear

Those of high estate who ran afoul of the government in Tudor England had a final decision to make: what to wear for their last day on the public stage--that is, at the scaffold. While the final speeches of the condemned were often recorded, observers were generally less inclined to note the deceased's final fashion choice. Nonetheless, here are a few of the descriptions that have come down to us (when and if I find more, I'll post a sequel):

Anne Boleyn: The various accounts mention either a gray or black gown, over which Anne wore a mantle of ermine, and a gable hood. The Spanish Chronicle adds the detail that Anne wore a red damask skirt and a netted coif over her hair, though another account states that one of Anne's ladies handed her a linen cap into which she bundled her hair after she removed her hood. See Eric Ives, The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn and Alison Weir, The Lady in the Tower, both of which list the various sources for Anne's execution. Weir's book quotes from a number of these sources. (For more on the red skirt, see here.)

John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland: The Chronicle of Queen Jane reports that he wore a gown of "crane-colored" damask, which he removed after mounting the scaffold and before making his speech to the crowd. (One report states that Northumberland's executioner wore a white apron.)

Lady Jane Grey: According to The Chronicle of Queen Jane, she wore the same gown that she had worn to her arraignment: a black gown of cloth, turned down, with a velvet-lined cape. If she also wore the same headdress to her execution that she had worn to her arraignment, it was an all-black French hood. No red skirts here!

Mary, Queen of Scots: John Guy in his biography Queen of Scots describes her attire in great detail: a white linen veil; a gown of thick black satin. "Trimmed with gold embroidery and sable, it was peppered with acorn buttons and of jet, set with pearl." Mary also wore slashed sleeves, over inner sleeves of purple velvet, suede shoes, and "sky-blue stockings embroidered with silver thread and held up by green silk garters." She carried an ivory crucifix and a Latin prayer book. On her girdle was a string of rosary beads with a golden cross. She wore a medallion "bearing the image of Christ as the Lamb of God." Underneath she wore a petticoat of tawny velvet and an inner bodice of tawny satin, which Guy describes as the color of "dried blood; the liturgical color of martyrdom in the Roman Catholic Church." Famously, she was also wearing an auburn wig.

Was Elizabeth Woodville one of Margaret of Anjou's Ladies?

It's stated as fact in the Wikipedia article on Margaret of Anjou, and elsewhere, that Elizabeth Woodville served as a lady-in-waiting to Margaret of Anjou. Fact or fiction? Unfortunately, the answer is uncertain.

The assertion that Elizabeth was one of Margaret's ladies comes from Tudor sources. Sir Thomas More in his History of King Richard III writes in passing that Elizabeth was "in service with Queen Margaret," and Hall's Chronicle makes the same claim. At first glance, this is confirmed by Margaret of Anjou's records. As A. R. Myers and George Smith each note, an Isabel, Lady Grey, was among the English ladies sent in 1445 to escort Margaret to England. Myers notes as well that an Elizabeth Grey, a lady in waiting to Margaret, received jewels from the queen in 1445-46, 1446-47, 1448-49, 1451-52, and 1452-53. "Isabel" and "Elizabeth" were often used interchangeably during this period, and Elizabeth's first husband was John Grey.

There are, however, problems with assuming that the lady in the records is Elizabeth Woodville. Her birth date is generally estimated as being around 1437, which means that for Elizabeth to be the Isabel or Elizabeth Grey of the records, she would have been married and serving as Margaret's attendant beginning at age eight. Girls did marry as children, but would an eight-year-old girl be assigned to travel to France to escort Margaret to England and to serve in her household? If she was there at all, it seems that she would have been merely tagging along with her mother, Jacquetta, the Duchess of Bedford, and would not have been important enough to the queen to be the recipient of gifts in her own right.

Moreover, as Myers and Smith point out, there were other Elizabeth Greys around, including Elizabeth Woodville's own mother-in-law. The most likely candidate for the Elizabeth Grey of Margaret's records, however, is "Elizabeth, late the wife of Ralph Gray, knight, daily attendant on the queen's person" who received a protection on June 27, 1445 (Calendar of Patent Rolls). This Elizabeth, daughter of Henry, Lord Fitzhugh, was a widow, whose husband Ralph died in 1443. (The couple have a splendid tomb at Chillingham, you can see some lovely photographs of it here.) Incidentally, Elizabeth and Ralph had a son, another Ralph, who after a brief accommodation with the Yorkists returned to his former allegiance and was besieged at Bamburgh in 1464. Badly injured when gunfire brought down part of a wall upon him, he survived long enough to be taken to Doncaster and beheaded.

So where does that leave Elizabeth Woodville? Even if the Elizabeth referred to in the records is another woman, it's certainly not impossible that Elizabeth Woodville served Margaret of Anjou in the 1450's, especially as her mother, the Duchess of Bedford, would have given her a natural entrée at court. Elizabeth's parents were in Margaret's company at Coventry in 1457, and her brother Anthony jousted before the king and queen in 1458. Still, the lack of any unambiguous contemporary reference to Elizabeth as a lady of Margaret's leads me to think that while Elizabeth Woodville might have visited court from time to time in the company of her family, she was never one of her predecessor's ladies.

Sources:

David Baldwin, Elizabeth Woodville: Mother of the Princes in the Tower. Gloucestershire: Sutton, 2004 (paperback edition).

A. R. Myers, Crown, Household and Parliament in Fifteenth-Century England. London and Ronceverte: Hambledon Press, 1985.

Arlene Okerlund, Elizabeth: England's Slandered Queen. Gloucestershire: Tempus, 2006 (paperback edition).

Proceedings, Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle upon Tyne, 1888.

George Smith, The Coronation of Elizabeth Wydeville. Gloucester: Gloucester Reprints, 1975 (originally published 1935).

Edward II in Love, and a Special Appearance by Robert the Bruce: Search Terms!

susan higginbotham download ebook

You heard the man. Do it.

edward second in love

Awwwww.

6 articles of faults drawn up against edward ii

That's no way to treat a man in love.

edward ii ending

All good things must . . .

king william 147? married to elizabeth woodville

If only someone had thought to tell Richard III. It might have saved a lot of trouble for everyone.

elusive woodville

Until King William came along.

did edmund beaufort lose france

Yes, but the Duke of York kept trying to tell him where to find it.

fun photography susan higginbotham

My prom picture, in which I am depicted with my eyes shut, is considered quite amusing by some.

leeds castle child out of wedlock

Someone really needs to address the growing immorality of medieval castles before it gets out of hand.

anglo saxon law cats divorce

Until William the Conqueror came along and ruined everything, of course, by restricting the right of divorce to dogs.

robert the bruce rapes queen isabella

He leered at Isabella, his haggis-laden breath heavy on her neck. "It's time, lass," he whispered, "that ye larned what a real man was like."

Isabella made a pretense of struggling under the mighty Scotman's embrace. At least, she thought to herself, I shall finally see what they keep under those sexy little kilts of theirs.

My Henry VIII Washington Weekend

I took advantage of the four-day Thanksgiving holiday weekend to travel to Washington, D.C., where I was lucky enough to catch "Vivat Rex! An Exhibition Commemorating the 500th Anniversary of the Accession of Henry VIII." The exhibition was mounted at the Grolier Club in New York in 2009 and traveled to the Folger Shakespeare Library this fall. (You can still see it in Washington through December 31.) The exhibit contains a number of objects associated with Henry VIII, his family, and his contemporaries. I particularly enjoyed seeing Elizabeth of York's inscribed prayer book, a New Year's gift roll from 1539, and a book of instructions given by the widowed Henry VII to his ambassadors, who had been sent to scout out the Queen of Naples as a possible bride. ("To marke hir brestes and pappes whether they be bigge or smale.")

I'm the sort of exhibition-goer who always leaves wishing I'd looked at certain exhibits more closely, so naturally I couldn't resist purchasing the exhibition guide, which is worth purchasing on its own if you can't get to the exhibit. It contains pictures of the items on display and short commentaries on them, along with essays by John Guy, Dale Hoak, and Susan Wabuda.

To coincide with the exhibit, the Folger has been staging William Shakespeare's Henry VIII, which has the distinction of having caused the Globe Theatre to burn down when it was produced in 1613. It's a rather odd play, which focuses on the downfall of Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, the schemes and fall of Cardinal Wolsey, and Henry's infatuation with and marriage to Anne Boleyn, to the cost of Catherine of Aragon. It ends with the christening of the future Elizabeth I, whose glorious reign is predicted by Thomas Cranmer. In this production, a number of the roles are taken by Henry's Fool, Will Sommers. I found the acting and staging excellent and was delighted that I had a chance to see this little-performed play!

My Henry VIII weekend continued in my reading matter for the trip: Giles Tremlett's new biography of Catherine of Aragon. I found it well written and insightful, especially as to Catherine's years in Spain. My one quibble is that the edition of the book published in the United Kingdom has no end notes; a set taken from the American edition, however, can be viewed at the website of the British publisher, Faber and Faber. This is one instance where I wish I had been a little more patient and waited for the American edition, but at least I can print out the notes.

So there you have it, my Henry VIII weekend! I only wish I could have stayed until Monday, when author Margaret George will be doing a reading, but at least I have her upcoming novel on Elizabeth I to anticipate.

Mary Dudley Sidney Writes in a Book

One of the things I enjoy most is finding things that the people in my novels wrote themselves--letters, wills, and, in some cases, poetry.

Mary Dudley, the oldest surviving daughter of John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, married Henry Sidney in March 1551 at Esher in Surrey, in a private ceremony; in May, a public wedding was held at Ely Place, Northumberland's London mansion. (At that time, Northumberland was the Earl of Warwick, having not yet become a duke.) Sidney, eight years older than Edward VI, was a companion to the young prince and became a gentleman of his privy chamber after the young Edward VI became king. Why the young couple had two wedding ceremonies is unexplained: had the pair made a runaway match? Henry Sidney was a few months shy of his twenty-second birthday; Simon Adams has estimated Mary Dudley's birthdate as being anywhere from 1530 to 1535. After Northumberland's ill-fated attempt to put Lady Jane Grey on the throne in 1553, Henry Sidney was soon reconciled to the new queen, Mary I, but he remained loyal to his wife's family and was among those who helped the surviving Dudley brothers regain their freedom following their lengthy imprisonment in the Tower. Mary Sidney became a favored lady of Elizabeth I, a decidedly mixed blessing, for she nursed Elizabeth through an attack of smallpox, caught the infection, and was badly scarred. Mary is shown here in a portrait by Hans Eworth, dated between 1550 and 1555.

Henry Sidney and Mary Dudley are most notable, perhaps, for being the parents of Philip Sidney, the celebrated poet-courtier. Their daughter Mary, Countess of Pembroke, was herself a writer and a literary patroness.

Mary Dudley also tried her hand at writing, as did her husband. On two blank pages of Hall's Union of the Two Noble and Illustrate Famelies of Lancastre and Yorke, now in the hands of the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, D.C., the spouses traded verses, Henry in Latin, Mary mostly in English, with a bit of French and Latin mixed in. I've obtained photographs of the pages and would love to post them here, but I haven't yet obtained permission to do so. I hope to get permission, because the couple's handwriting is lovely and quite legible. The first two verses have been transcribed by Alfred Bill in Astrophel, or the Life and Death of the Renowned Sir Philip Sidney; the last two are my own maiden attempts at transcription (if anyone more accustomed to reading sixteenth-century English than I am wants to have a stab at a transcription, I'd be happy to pass the photograph on to you!)

To whyshe the best and fere the worst
are to points of the wyese.
To suffer then whatt happen shall
that man is happy thryese.

1551
Mary Sidney
fere God

Of all thinges the newest is the best,
save love and frinship, which
the elder it waxeth is ever the better

Escript par la maine d'un
femme heuruse assavoir

If not for to spede thou think again
Will not the thing that thou moveth not attain
for thou and none other art cause of thy [lett? loss?]
if that which thou mowest not thou [?]
to express scriptini manire felix

Upon thy good daye
have thou in mind the [unware?]
woe that may come behind