The Raucous Royals: Scandals, Rumors and Gossip of the Royalty

The Raucous Royals

Scandals, Rumors and Gossip of the Royalty. Including: Vlad the Imapler, Richard III, Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn, Mary Queen of Scots, Elizabeth I, Louis XIV, Peter the Great, Marie Antoinette, Catherine the Great, Napoleon Bonaparte, George III, Marie de Medici, Catherine de Medici, Eleonora di Toledo de Medici, Louis XVII, Eleanor of Aquitaine,Charles II

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Hapsburg Drinking Games

Rudolf II loved toys, but especially toys that required drinking large amounts of alcohol. Shown here is his Automaton of Diana and the Stag (1620), one of the first royal drinking games. The stag’s removable head doubles as both bizarre centerpiece and drinking cup. Participants would wind up the mechanism at the base of the sculpture and it would spin around until Diana's arrow landed on a person in the party. Diana’s chosen party-goer was then required to drink the contents of the stag head....a far classier alternative to Beer Pong.

What's your favorite drinking game? Does it involve a golden stag? In my very pregnant state, my favorite drinking game is to sniff everyone's wine and guess what it tastes like. Fun!

Art Credit: Metropolitan Museum of ArtArts of Northern Europe

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Monday, July 6, 2009

And the winners are...

The two lucky winners of Sideshow: Ten Original Tales of Freaks, Illusionists, and Other Matters Odd and Magical are Amanda and Gail. I have emailed the winners and will need your mailing address to send out your prize.

All US and International newsletters subscribers are automatically entered to win the giveaways each month. If you are not a newsletter subscriber then you can subscribe here.

Congratulations to this month's winners!

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Raucous Book of the Month - Giveaway

June's Raucous Book of the Month is a little off the topic of royalty, but appeals to my evil twin's (named Jesse) greatest love - Sideshows. The title of the book, Sideshow: Ten Original Tales of Freaks, Illusionists, and Other Matters Odd and Magical, delivers what every circus poster of the 19th century once promised...a chance to look. In a collection of bizarre short stories, you will meet such characters as Madame Zelda - the local fortune teller, Molly - the teen bearded lady, Tia Nafretiri - the daughter of a 3000 year old Mummy, and an occasional three-headed rat. Each fast-paced short story ends with a strange twist and a modern spin on what it means to live on the outskirts of conventional society. Some of the stories are beautifully illustrated in a graphic novel format that makes your typical scary clown a tad creepier. Get this book for your vampire loving teen who just might be a werecat by night.

I will be giving an advance copy of Sideshow to one lucky newsletter subscriber. If you are not a subscriber, then you can subscribe here.

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Sunday, June 28, 2009

Happy Birthday Henry VIII, Mr. Perfect.

Today marks the birthday of Henry VIII. He was born at Greenwich Palace in 1491 as the second male heir and third child to Henry VII and Elizabeth of York. No one expected much from his birth. His grandmother, Margaret Beaufort noted the details sparingly in her book of hours and we can guess that many probably didn't expect him to even live. June through August was the worst time for a baby to be born because plague was more virulent in the summer months. But surviving infancy was an easy task for the future king of England.

With high expectations, Henry ascended to the thrown in 1509 in one of the first peaceful successions that England had seen in years. In a letter to Erasmus, Lord Mountjoy wrote:

‘When you know what a hero he now shows himself, how wisely he behaves, what a lover he is of justice and goodness, what affection he bears to the learned I will venture to swear that you will need no wings to make you fly to behold this new and auspicious star. Oh, my Erasmus, if you could see how all the world here is rejoicing in the possession of so great a prince, how his life is all their desire, you could not contain your tears for joy.'

It’s not hard to see why Mountjoy was so effusive with his praise. Henry was certainly a beautiful man. He had envious calves (calves were to be envied then) and a statuesque physique. He had the ideal humanist education with the poet laureate, John Skelton as his tutor and Erasmus as his confidant. He could sing amazingly well, compose music, dance and was a recognized patron of the arts. He excelled in almost every athletic sport, could debate in several languages and was a brilliant theologian. Henry was a seriously good catch. How could he fail?

Showtime’s the Tudors chose to tie their series to Queen's song, I WANT IT ALL - the perfect soundtrack to Henry’s self-aggrandizement. This Renaissance Prince did want it all. He wanted prestige. He wanted wealth. He wanted military power. He wanted stability with a male heir. And he actually wanted to be happy in his marriage. How dare he? 16th century princes were not expected to fall in love with their wives. That’s what mistresses were for.

Maybe Henry’s biggest problem was that he was just too perfect. Perfect people do tend to expect perfection from others. We can guess that Henry must have been disappointed when the people he raised from lowly positions fell short of his expectations. More, Cromwell, Anne Boleyn, Kathyrn Howard and several others paid for their shortcomings with their lives. Henry had made them so it was far easier to break them. That's the joy of playing god.

But gods are also not supposed to feel weakness. In his later years, Henry must have felt like his body was playing some cruel joke on him. It’s much harder for someone who once was so physically fit to lead a sedentary life style. Here was this man who had towered over his subjects being hoisted onto his horse like a bag of lard.

To be fair, Henry did accomplish much in his reign. He pretty much introduced the concept of state education. When he dissolved the monasteries, he used the money to fund a group of schools called the Kings Schools. Talented yet poor children could go to these schools on scholarship and many famously brilliant children rose from obscurity including Christopher Marlowe and William Harvey. Henry's reign also brought the first English bible to the people which unified English into one dialect. And we can't forget that he championed art and humanism, built several palaces, helped establish the first English Navy and contributed significant advancement in medical research by establishing the College of Barber Surgeons. Is this enough to give him a passing grade? Considering that he also left England a tiny broke island bankrupted by his warmongering policies with the coinage debased, I would say…not so sure.

Judging Henry as a ruler is tricky because we can’t help but view him through our own distorted lens of contemporary greatness. Which is why I often wonder - how did Henry feel on his deathbed? Did he believe that he left England in a position of strength? Judging by the Holbein painting, he certainly was trying to convince everyone around him that he had. Holbein’s Henry (shown above) was literally meant to tower over its subjects with the distorted length of its arms and menacing stare. But not everyone today is buying it.

What you think? Do you remember Henry as a great Renaissance Prince or just the overweight bully who killed two of his wives?

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Thursday, June 25, 2009

La Voisin: A Duchess among Witches

As an independent, sexually elusive 35 year old with flowing robes, suspicious herbal garden, dilapidated residence and proclivity for drinking large amounts of alcohol, Catherine Monvoison, named “la Voisin”, was the 17th century poster child for evil sorceress. Yet, despite her unflattering engraving (shown here) la Voisin was not some badly dressed charlatan scaring the local kids. She was the chief witch to the most influential members of Louis XIV’s court.

Members of the nobility would find themselves at la Voisin’s doorsteps for several reasons. She dabbled in the usual witch fare; tarot card reading, séances, horoscopes, abortions, palm reading, chiromancy, beauty potions, and an occasional aphrodisiac to make a reluctant lover fall hopelessly in love. When M. de Prade sought a marriage with the wealthy Madame Laferon, la Voisin buried a wax figure of de Prade in Madame Leferon’s garden. * Another recommended love spells was to bury menstrual blood. To get rid of an unwanted husband, la Voisin recommended obtaining some of his urine and discarded eggshells from the eggs he had eaten. If urine didn’t work then you better find yourself some pigeon or sheep’s hearts, mummy powder, iron filling, or a mole's teeth to work into a spell.

Ironically, la Voisin hated her husband so much that the typical polite greeting was to inquire whether or not he had dropped dead yet. La Voisin claimed that she never used her spells on her husband and he did continue to live on, but evidence suggests that she may have been "experimenting" with his meals. (Obviously, if she admitted to using her potions she would not only have been accused of attempted murder, but it also would have been bad for business.)

La Voisin's popularity as chief purveyor of potions and spells to the nobility soon earned her the moniker ‘a duchess among witches’, but also fate a less desirable than Psychic to the Stars. On March 1679, la Voisin was arrested on charges of witchcraft. A witch-hunt soon followed with over 400 people implicated in what became known as ‘The Affair of the Poisins.’ La Voisin’s daughter Marie started to talk and favored courtiers with a dangerously close proximity to the king were accused of practicing witchcraft. Some of these names even included Louis’ mistress, Francois-Athenais de Rochechouart, Madame de Montespan and his old crush, Olympe Mancini, comtesse de Soissons.

The accusations stemmed from La Voisin’s less innocuous repertoire involving poisons and love spells using dead body parts and celebrating Black Masses with sacrificial babies. Supposedly, Madame de Montespan paid a visit to la Voisin when she wanted to usurp her rival for the king’s affections, Louise de la Valliere. La Voisin recommended that Madame de Montespan sneak dead baby’s blood, bones, and intestines with a dab of toad and bat parts into Louis’ meat. Yum!

These allegations seem absurd when we consider Madame de Montespan’s extreme piety. To engage in any sinister black magic would have been an extreme crime against the church and dammed her soul. Even more ridiculous was the allegations that Madame de Montespan had sought to poison the king. Killing off her sugar daddy would have seriously cramped her decadent life style. (1)

Madame de Montespan may have experimented with beauty potions and aphrodisiacs such as the popular Cantharides – a medicine scraped from the wings of the Spanish fly beetle. As the pseudonym for sexual sadism, The Marquis de Sade is later remembered for unsuccessfully using Spanish fly to ignite the passions of young prostitutes. (The prostitutes died a painful death). Even George Washington had some Spanish fly in his medicine chest.**

But whether deserved or not, la Voisin is not remembered for harmless beauty potions and aphrodisiacs, but as one of history's great poisoners and raucous trouble makers.The Poison Affair ended with over 34 people executed and several courtiers banished from court. (Olympe Mancini fled in fear for her safety. ) A year after her arrest, la Voisin was burnt to death at the Place de Greve in Paris.

*History doesn’t tells us if these spells worked, but think carefully before you sneak into your neighbor’s garden with a wax doll.
**
Get your mind out of the gutter. Spanish fly was used as a blistering agent to heal George’s throat infection.

Notes:
Fraser, p. 181

Sources and Further Reading

Somerset, Anne. The Affair of the Poisons: Murder, Infanticide, and Satanism at the Court of Louis XIV, New York, NY: St. Martin's Press, 2004.
Fraser, Antonia. Love and Louis XIV: The Women in the Life of the Sun King. New York, NY: Nan A. Talese, 2006.

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Thursday, June 18, 2009

The Royal Talisman

We might laugh today at some of the amulets and talisman that protected royalty, but they were cherished and extremely costly objects hundreds of years ago. Here are a few of the lucky charms used by some of my favorite royals.

The love talisman
Catherine de Medici was one of the most superstitious queens of her day and even showed a natural talent for alchemy and astrology. Catherine's most famous talisman was her love talisman made from metals melted during favorable astrological signs and then mixed with human and goat blood. Catherine’s love talisman was destroyed when she died, but a copy can be found at the Bibliotheque nationale de France. The above is a copy which can be purchased at Esoteric Jewels. Unfortunately, Catherine’s love talisman failed her miserably. Throughout her marriage, she was trapped in a painful love triangle between herself, her husband, Henri II and his famed mistress, Diane de Poitiers.

Anne of Cleves wore a crown of rosemary on her wedding day because it was believed to be a love charm. Judging by the speed at which Henry VIII divorced her, expectant brides might want to forgo this tradition.

The friendship talisman
You wouldn’t think the hard-nosed, pragmatic queen Bess would dabble in superstitions, but Elizabeth I had her share of protective amulets. She possessed an agate amulet which promised that she would always have at least one faithful friend. This amulet obviously worked because Elizabeth had a knack for surrounding herself with loyal advisors and spymasters throughout her life.

The religious talisman
A commonly worn religious talisman was that of the Agnus Dei portraying a flag and Jesus as the sacrificial lamb. The Agnus Dei was often made from the wax of a Paschal candle and was blessed by the Pope. It was carried to protect against flood, thunderstorms, windstorms and sudden death. Mary Queen of Scots possessed two talisman stamped with the Agnus Dei and even took one to her execution. If you count a swinging ax as a sudden death, then this one didn’t work so well for Mary.

The great poet, cardinal Pietro Bembo gave the Duchess Lucrezia an Agnus Dei as a token of his secret love for her. In one of the many steamy letters to the Duchess, he wrote:

'The encolsed Agnus Dei, which I wore a time on my heart, you will deign to wear at night sometimes for love of me - if you are not able to wear it in the day - so that sweet dwelling placeof your precious heart, to be able to kiss which one single time for a long hour I would bargain my life, may be at least touched by that circle which a long time touched the dwelling place of mine. Be well.' (1)

The health talisman
One of the most common talisman was a unicorn horn to protect against disease and poisoning. Unicorn horns were so expensive that some even cost the price of a small estate. Henry VII, Elizabeth I, Francis I, and Mary Queen of Scots possessed unicorn horns to ward off illness. (They were really overpriced narwhal tusks)

Henry VII also possessed a serpent’s tongue on a chain to protect him from sudden poisoning and illnesses. In ancient Malta, located off the coast of Italy, serpent’s tongue were believed to be the tongue of snakes that had been turned to stone. (They were really fossilized shark’s teeth.) In the fifteenth and sixteenth century, serpent’s tongues were suspended from coral trees, called languiers, and placed at the dinner table. Guests would grab a tongue and dip it into their wine to protect them from poisoning. Try this amulet only if you are dining with some suspicious house guests.

The talisman for commoners
If you couldn’t afford a unicorn horn, then you would have to settle for carrying a mole's foot in your pocket. (just slightly nastier than a rabbit's foot.) This superstition was recommended by Pliny the Elder in the first century C.E. and continued to be a common practice in England up until the 20th century.

To cure toothache, people often carried a tooth-shaped stone or animal tooth. These amulets cured tooth ache by transferring the disease from your tooth onto the stone. If you squeezed it pretty hard, maybe you would forget about the stabbing pain in your jaw.

Another common amulet was an alchemy coin called a ‘thaler’ which when carried would protect against disease and illness. The word ‘thaler’ became the basis for the word dollar which today ironically transfers nasty germs instead of protecting against illness.

Stay tuned for a future post on the talisman used in divination. Shown here is the purple crystal used to cure illness and predict the future. It was used by Elizabeth I's conjurer, John Dee who claimed he could see ghosts in it.

What is your favorite lucky charm? Fess up….are you superstitious? Do you consult the magic eight ball before making any important decisions? Do you have a florescent pink rabbit’s foot hanging from your dashboard or a lucky rock in your pocket?

Image Credits:
Mole's foot, Thalers, John Dee's crystal:
Science Museum, London
Catherine de Medici's love talisman: Esoteric Jewels

Notes:
Kidwell, p. 94

Sources and Further Reading:
Kidwell, Carol. Pietro Bembo: Lover, Linguist, Cardinal. Montreal, Quebec: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2004.
Woolley, Benjamin. The Queen's Conjurer: The Science and Magic of Dr. John Dee, Adviser to Queen Elizabeth I. New York:NY, Holt Paperbacks, 2001
The Execution of Mary Queen of Scots.
Starkey, David. The Six Wives of Henry VIII. New York, NY: Harper Perennial, 2004.
Frieda, Leonie. Catherine de Medici, Renaissance Queen of France, New York, NY:Harper Perennial, 2003.
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Sunday, June 14, 2009

Goats, Peanut Butter and a little creativity

I am a little late posting this but thank you to Anne Boleyn Files and Kimberly Eve Musings of a Writer for the Kreativ Blogger award. The award guidelines are that upon receiving you must post 7 things you love and then give the award to 7 other bloggers who are creative. Here are my 7:

7 favorite things (other than raucous causing history)
1. Goats: I try to sneak a goat into all my picture books. My token goat got cut from the Raucous Royals during the dummy sketch phase so I have slyly snuck my token goat into my next book at the final stage. (less chance of my editor asking, “Say, why is there a goat on this page?”)
2. Peanut Butter and Lemonade: it’s a pregnancy thing. Normally, I hate both.
3. When my 18 month old daughter says the word “couscous”: you just have to hear it to understand.
4. White, shiny gogo boots: I was a disco diva in another life.
5. Yellow tulips: until they die and look a little naked with just that ugly, brown stump.
6. Long Fingers: I have hand envy. I have been cursed with stubby fingers.
7. The smell of crayons: my daughter shares this love and insists they are the 7th food group

7 superbly creative blogs
1. Art and Words
2. Susan Holloway Scott
3. The Virtual Dime Museum
4. Tudor Stuff
5. Enchanted by Josephine
6. Nineteen Teen
7. Passages to the Past

Stay tuned for a post later this week on the most magical amulets and talismans used by kings and queens...

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Thursday, June 11, 2009

Raucous Royal of the Month: Charles II

Welcome to our guest blogger, author Susan Holloway Scott. Take it away Susan....

Meet the “Merrie Monarch”: King Charles II
By Susan Holloway Scott

Tired of the Tudors? Had enough of Henry? Do I have another English king for you! Charles II (1630-1685)was a monarch so intriguing, so charming, and so historically hot that he doesn’t need Jonathan Rhys Meyers to boost his reputation.

Like all heirs to thrones, Charles II was welcomed into the world with fireworks and ringing church bells. He had an idyllic childhood, even for a royal prince: his father, Charles I, was an unusually devoted father, his mother adored him, and he’d six brothers and sisters to round out the close-knit family. There were trips to the menagerie at the Tower of London, portraits painted by Sir Anthony van Dyck, (shown below) and junkets on the Thames on the gilded royal barge.

But while Charles I was an excellent father, he was a miserable king. Hopelessly out of touch with his people, he tried to force an absolute monarchy on an unwilling Parliament. A long and bitter Civil War began in 1642, ending eventually in the trial and beheading of Charles I in 1649. In his place, a conservative army general, Oliver Cromwell, was made Lord Protector to rule with Parliament.

The nineteen-year-old Charles barely escaped to the Continent. Though nominally now Charles II, he was a king without a throne or a country, and perhaps more importantly, without any money. His mother and his younger brothers and sisters were scattered about various royal courts, poor relations that wore out their welcome. Charles himself became a wandering pauper-king in exile, his circumstances so straitened that he wore darned stockings, gave away his beloved dogs, and could only afford to dine on meat once a week.

Back in England, life under the Puritans was equally grim. In an effort to “purify” the country of its excesses, almost everything that was fun was outlawed by Parliament. Maypoles were burned, music, dancing, and theater forbidden, bright-colored clothing became illegal, and holidays scratched from the calendar. Church-going was about all that was permitted, and the Puritans made sure there wasn’t a scrap of pleasure there, either, smashing centuries-old stained-glass windows and forbidding music.

But by the time of Cromwell’s death in 1659, the English had become thoroughly weary of their Puritan Parliament. In retrospect a king didn’t seem so bad at all, and Charles was invited back. His return to the English throne gave his reign its name –– the “Restoration” –– and he was greeted with wild rejoicing and celebrations.

Riding into London on a white horse on his thirtieth birthday in 1660, Charles dazzled his people like a modern Hollywood star. He was tall (6’2”), dark, and handsome, lean and athletic and full of boundless energy. He wasn’t fair-haired-English-handsome, but favored his Italian grandmother, Marie de’Medici, with heavy-lidded, dark eyes, a sensual mouth, and long, black, curling hair. He was intelligent and well-spoken with a dry wit, and his own sufferings made him peculiarly sympathetic to his people, with a genuine kindness rare in kings. He had an appealing air of melancholy; in best RAUCOUS ROYALS tradition, the king known to posterity as the “Merrie Monarch” was in fact not very merry by nature (who can blame him?), but he surrounded himself with outrageously amusing friends that ensured his court was THE place to be.

That wasn’t all. Unlike most vengeance-crazed monarchs, Charles generously pardoned everyone except the men who’d signed his father’s death warrant, resulting in a country-wide sigh of relief. He brought back music, dancing, flirting, Christmas, and Maypoles. He reopened the theatres, and for the first time in English history, permitted actresses on the stage. He loved pretty women, fast horses, and dogs of every description. After a decade of Puritan dreariness, once again everyone began to dress to impress, and big-time partying was back in fashion. Was it any wonder that Charles was instantly, wildly popular?

And why not? While his cousin across the Channel, Louis XIV of France, kept himself aloof and distant in his grand palace at Versailles, Charles was always in the thick of things. He appreciated London all the more for having been exiled from it, and with a freedom that would horrify Secret Service agents today, he enjoyed the city like any other Londoner, and was infinitely accessible, even to his most humble people.

Every morning he rose early and walked briskly through St. James’s Park with his dogs (the King Charles spaniels so popular now are named after him) and any one who could keep pace with his long legs. He attended the theater as often as he could, cheering and jeering and buying over-priced fruit from the orange girls along with everyone else. He fed the ducks and swans in the park. He regularly swam naked in the Thames, even in the winter, and didn’t care who watched.

As one of his friends and part-time poet John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (yes, the same Rochester played by Johnny Depp in the movie Libertine) noted with approval: “Nor are [the king’s] high desires above his strength/His scepter and his p**** are of a length.”


When London was devastated by the Great Fire in 1666, Charles didn’t simply do the 17th century version of a fly-over to survey the damage: he joined the bucket brigades, fighting the fires himself. His intellectual curiosity led him to keep a scientific “closet” in the palace for puttering about with chemicals and curiosities like two-headed snakes. An excellent horseman, he would ride in races with the professional jockeys at Newmarket, and often win from his skill and daring, not because he was the king. Afterwards he would drink with the jockeys and grooms, enjoying being a regular guy. Following a formal court reception, he’d shed the silk and ermine, change into plain clothes, and go carousing in low-rent rum shops and brothels with friends, often not coming home to the palace until nearly dawn.

Ah, the brothels. For while Charles didn’t swear, smoke, or drink or eat to excess (unlike Henry VIII, he remained flat-bellied and athletic until his death), he did have one enormous vice: he loved, loved, loved women, and women loved him. Though he often made fun of his own appearance, he was by all reports incredibly attractive to the opposite sex. From high-born ladies to lowly milkmaids, women of every rank found him pretty near irresistible. It wasn’t just that he was king, either, or a matter of royal conquest by that good-sized scepter. Charles genuinely liked women, particularly clever, amusing women who could entertain them with their wit as well as in his bed, and they clearly returned the favor many times over. Many, many, many times.

No one knows the exact number of women Charles had sex with in his lifetime. It was not uncommon for him to call upon one mistress in the afternoon, visit his queen’s bed in the evening, frolic with another mistress after that, and then wind up the night at a brothel. The man famously required almost no sleep. In addition to his wife and queen, Catherine of Braganza, (shown left) he kept three main mistresses over the course of his reign: Barbara Villiers Palmer, Duchess of Cleveland (shown right), a hot-tempered, passionate lady that he’d first met in exile; Nell Gwyn, (shown below left) a common-born actress who entertained him with her impertinent wit; and Louise de Keroualle, Duchess of Portsmouth, (shown below right) a luscious French-born virgin sent as a gift (and a spy) to Charles by his cousin Louis XIV. These were the women rewarded with titles, houses, estates, incomes, and jewels, and political power. There were far more who only received the pleasure of the royal person, and perhaps a coin or two besides.

Unlike Henry VIII, Charles never sent any of his lovers to the chopping-block. Instead he managed the rare trick of remaining friends with his mistresses even after they’d ceased their mistress-ly obligations, and all of them evidently stayed in love with him. (Both Nell Gwyn and Louise de Keroualle remained faithful to his memory, for neither took another lover after his death –– though Louise outlived him by 50 years.) Even his homely little queen loved Charles dearly despite his raging infidelities, and though he was repeatedly urged to set her aside when she proved barren (shades of Henry!) he refused to shame her with a royal divorce.

The greatest irony of Charles’s reign is that while he sired fourteen natural children (!) that he acknowledged with titles, his queen never bore him a legitimate son and heir. While most of the noble families of Britain today can count Charles as an ancestor (Diana, Princess of Wales, Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, and Sarah, Duchess of York are only a few of his descendents) at his death in 1684, Charles’s crown passed to his incompetent brother James, and the Glorious Revolution of 1688 followed soon after.

Of course Charles wasn’t perfect. He was often at odds with his Parliaments. His relative poverty as a king led him accept secret subsidies from the French, and his attempts at wars on the Continent were costly and unproductive. His Roman Catholic leanings were worrisome for the nominal head of the Anglican Church. His constant need for activity and his wandering inattention to detail would today probably be diagnosed as some form of ADD; his contemporaries simply called him lazy. Later historians, particularly the Victorians, were so repulsed by his promiscuity that they overlook his other qualities, and wrote instead of him “lolling idle” on his throne.

But to the people he ruled, Charles was their much-loved and very human king, and at his death the country was plunged into grief-stricken despair. If there had been political approval ratings in the 17th century, Charles’s would have been off the charts. He unified a country torn by civil war, restored its economy, and placed England firmly on the world stage. What’s a mistress or two compared to that?

Susan Holloway Scott freely admits to having spent way too much time in the company of Charles II, who appears in all four of her historical novels. Her next book, The French Mistress, features both Charles and his mistress Louise de Keroualle, and will be released in July. Susan will return next month to dish more on Charles, Louise, and the other royal mistresses – and to give away a copy of The French Mistress.

Her website: http://www.susanhollowayscott.com/

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Monday, June 8, 2009

Swine Flu: Blame Isabella of Castile

Accept for the unfortunate Egyptian pigs, the swine flu never became the tragedy it was predicted to become a month ago. Some very sad cases did emerge. A pregnant woman in MN became a victim. A baby in TX died. Over 100 other people succumbed to the virus. As most hotdog lovers know, these deaths were not the fault of the pigs. Although rare, past outbreaks of Swine Influenza were transmitted from pigs to humans, but the origins of the recent influenza outbreak are unknown. It is thought to be a mutation of the influenza A virus found in either humans, birds or pigs. Thus, it was renamed the far less dramatic name of “H1N1 virus” which can roughly be translated from science jargon as “we don’t know where the heck this thing came from.”

Still, I am fingering Isabella of Castile for causing all this mess.

Why it is Isabella’s fault (sort of)
It all began with Columbus’ second voyage to America in June 1493. For this voyage, he was given more funds and a larger crew consisting of 1500 settlers. As many people know, Isabella was bankrolling the voyage and she wanted to make sure her business venture was profitable. So she advised Columbus to do the sensible thing when taking a long voyage….make sure to pack some pigs.

The pig suggestion proved even smarter than packing spare underware for several reasons:
  1. The pigs became a valuable source of protein for hungry settlers. I have no idea why anyone would want to eat the star of Charlotte’s Web, but if you are so inclined, a pig’s flesh yields 65-85 percent meat and I am told it tastes pretty good too.

  2. They were pretty self-sufficient. Have you seen what a pig will eat? It’s not pretty. They also will run you over for food. The Native American certainly didn’t appreciate them eating all their corn and named them “Spanish beasts.”

  3. They are really horny. Female pigs will start breeding as young as nine months and will give birth to as many as twelve little piglets. That makes for an ongoing food supply.

  4. They poop everywhere. No need for chemical fertilizers.

  5. The Spanish used them as piggy inquisitors. Jewish people obviously didn't eat pork so if Columbus saw someone passing on the pork chop then he immediately pinned them for a Jew. Darn snitching pigs!
Those were the advantages to the Spanish. The bad news is that the pigs also spread diseases and killed off much of the Native American population and many Europeans too by transmitting anthrax, brucellosis, leptospirosis, trichinosis, tuberculosis and eventually influenza.

So there you have it. Blame Isabella. Or blame Columbus. Put please don't blame the pigs.

Sources and Further Reading:
Davis, C, Kenneth.
America's Hidden History: Untold Tales of the First Pilgrims, Fighting Women, and Forgotten Founders Who Shaped a Nation, New York, NY: Harper Paperbacks, 2009.
PBS,
American Experience: We Shall Remain, 2009

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Thursday, June 4, 2009

Win Season Two of The Tudors

Guess the Objects

Rules:
The first person to guess the objects correctly will win Season Two of The Tudors. The contest runs until the end of the month. If no one guesses any of the objects correctly then I will pick the most creative incorrect response. So if you don't know...take a guess.

To Play:
Write your response in the comments section of this post. I will be giving clues throughout the month until someone guesses the correct answers.

Clue #1:
All of these objects were found in England


Object 1:


Object 2:

Object 3:




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Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Showtime's The Tudors: Historical vs. Hollywood – Final Episode

Episode eight begins with Henry feeling an “impediment” to his marriage that is deeply troubling his conscience. (yes, he has one). The whole marriage has been a terrible mix up. Anne had already been pre-contracted to Francis of Lorraine, (later the Duc de Bar) so therefore Henry had really married another man’s wife. But Francis of Lorraine is soon to marry Christina of Milan. (the bride that Henry originally wanted to marry). The solution is simple: Wife Swap. oh, darn...wrong show.

No, this is the Tudors where the solution can only be divorce or death. Henry tells Anne that he is packing her up and sending her to Richmond to get a little fresh air. We don’t know what Anne thought of her deportation, but it might have been along the lines of, “Say, didn’t you try that Richmond trick on your first wife?” Catherine of Aragon certainly didn’t fall for it. Would Anne?

While Anne is relaxing in Richmond, Henry’s lackeys draw up the divorce papers on the grounds of non-consummation and the legal impediments caused by Anne’s pre-contracted marriage with Francis of Lorraine. When the news is broken to Anne, it doesn’t take long for her to cooperate fully. The scene with her breaking down in tears is factual for firsthand accounts reported her crying pitilessly at the news. As part of the divorce settlement, Anne was given 4000 pounds a year, Richmond and Bletchingley, and the consolatory title of “sister.” Not bad for a wife of Henry.

Meanwhile, The Duke of Suffolk and Francis Bryan plot to put a new pretty plaything in front of the king. Their chosen trinket is the seductive and nubile Kathryn Howard. In reality, her uncle, the Duke of Norfolk secured her a position as lady-in-waiting to Anne of Cleves and we do not know when she caught the king’s eye. In the Tudors, it is also implied that Kathryn was a “rich bastard” but in reality she came from a minor noble branch of the Howard clan (Anne Boleyn was her cousin.) Her father was Lord Edmund, the third son of the second Duke of Norfolk. Her mother was Jocasta Culpepper, a rich co-heiress. Sadly, Catherine’s mother died when she was young and Kathryn was packed off to the Household of her step-grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Norfolk. Under the Duchess of Norfolk’s care, she romped and played like the Tudor version of ‘Girls gone wild’ except she thought no one was watching. People were watching. Those people may have some tales to tell in season four…

Henry of course falls instantly in love with Kathryn. They then share a series of conversations reminiscent of two apes sharing a banana. Most of Kathryn's lines consist of fluctuating snorts and giggles delivered half-naked. History tells us that one of Kathryn’s more alluring qualities was that she dressed herself in the more becoming French fashions that Jane had banned (shown here). Unfortunately, it’s hard to get the sense of her being a fashion guru with her always missing her clothes. I predict next season is going to be a tad steamier.

If you want tears, turn to poor Cromcakes who is suddenly out of a job. His official charges were treason, heresy and scandalum magnatum (which is Latin for being a big jerk to your betters). He is not given a trial and arrested on an Act of Attainder.* But before he is handed his Tudor walkng papers, he is ordered to complete one last official duty - write a letter showing that Henry did not consummate his marriage. The Tudors uses Cromwell’s real letter including his cry for, ‘mercy, mercy, mercy.’ (1) Most of what we know of Henry’s reaction to Anne is from this letter.

Cromwell’s downfall cannot be attributed to one defining moment, but his failed foreign policy certainly played its part. He had succeeded in counterbalancing the threat of a Franco-Imperial war by securing an alliance with Cleves, but he forgot the fundamental nature of alliances….they were two way streets. You scratch my back and I scratch yours. And that meant that if Cleves went to war with Spain, England had to come to its defense. Unfortunately for Cromwell, it looked like that is exactly what was about to happen.

Charles V and William of Cleves had been arguing over whom had rights to the rich land of Gelderland for some time. To settle the matter, Charles V went straight for the Low Countries to claim it for himself. Now, a war between Cleves and Charles’ Imperial forces was forthcoming and Henry was in no mood to come to the Cleves family defense. To make matters worse, The French king, Francis I and Charles V were at each other’s throats (think Mean Girls but with swords and codpieces.) With Francis and Charles distracted with their own bickering, a Franco-Imperial attack on England turned out to be just another boogieman in the closet. Anne now served no purpose other than to make Henry miserable. Cromwell had gambled and lost.

Then there was the whole messy business of religion. Cromwell’s enemies accused him of a whole slew of heretical charges including spreading heretical literature, allowing heretical writings to be translated, supporting the teaching of Barnes and allowing the common man to minister the sacrament. We still don’t know today what exactly Cromwell was up to, but he went to his grave claiming that he wasn’t a heretic. Today, Cromwell certainly has his detractors, but most historians agree that his death was senseless and the reason for using an Act of Attainder was that there was not enough evidence to convict him.

And let's not forget that Cromwell just wasn’t playing nice with others. His enemies resented his power and his rise from humble beginnings. Class structure was not a thing to be circumvented in Tudor England and a blacksmith’s son normally did not become the second most powerful man in the kingdom. Cromwell simply had too many enemies.

The only person who had anything remotely nice to say about Cromwell was Cranmer. When asked what his relationship with the fallen minister was, he said, ‘I loved him as my friend…But now, if he be a traitor, I am sorry that I ever loved him or trusted him.’ (2)The Tudors used this quote, but has Rich saying it instead of Cranmer.

Cromwell shared the scaffold with Lord Hungerford who was executed for sodomy and various heinous crimes. The Tudors shows what looks to be a homeless person shaking on the scaffold and I am assuming that is our guy Hungerford. Hungerford was executed at the same time as Cromwell in an effort to disgrace Cromwell futher. (In Tudor England, sodomites were viewed as the lowest of the low).

You might want to cover your eyes during Cromwell’s execution scene. According to Foxe, ‘he patiently suffered the stroke of the axe, by a ragged butcherly miser, which very ungodly performed the office.’ (3) People are always counting the swings it takes to remove a head, but I say anything over one counts as a seriously botched execution.


But all ends well back at the Tudor Playboy ranch with Kathryn Howard looking like a kinky Fragonard painting. But wait….is that regret on Henry’s face? Does Miss Giggles have the goods to hold a king’s attention? Will have to wait to season four to find out…

Stay tuned for a chance to win season two of The Tudors. Details coming this week.

Sources and Notes:
* An Act (or Bill) of Attainder is a Parliamentary procedure in which Parliament passes judicial sentence on an accused person as if it were a court of law.


All sources listed in previous posts
(1)L. P, Henry VIII, Volume 15: 1540, pp. 376-412. Cromwell to Henry VIII
(2)Starkey, Kindle location 11081-87

(3) Dickens. p. 73

Additional Sources:
Dickens, A. G. Thomas Cromwell and the English Reformation, London, UK: The English Universities Press, 1967.





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Monday, June 1, 2009

And the winner is...

Amy and Robin were May's winners of The Raucous Royals giveaway. The giveaway this month was Mistress of the Sun by Sandra Gulland. Read the review here

I have emailed the winners and just need your mailing address.

Next month's Raucous Royals book of the month is an advance copy of: Sideshow, Ten Original Tales of Freaks, Illusionists and Other Matters Odd and Magical edited by Deborah Noyes. It's a little outside of the usual royalty history reading, but how can a book staring three-headed rats, bearded ladies and mummies not be utterly fascinating? In honor of this book, I have been digging through my notes to find all the strange things royals have collected over the years and also some of the soothsayers and seers that prophesied history.

In July, The Raucous Royals book of the month will be Susan Scott Holloway's new novel, The French Mistress starring the enigmatic Louise de Keroualle. You can pre-order a copy now. Ms. Holloway will also stop by to answer a few question on one of my favorite monarchs, Charles II, and dish about his many mistresses.

All newsletters subscribers are automatically entered to win the giveaway. If you are not already a subscriber, subscribe here.

I also have another copy of The Tudors (Season Two) to giveaway. Instead of including this giveaway in the newsletter, we will be playing one of my favorite games - Guess the object. The first reader to post the correct answer will win. Stay tuned for more information....

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Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Feeling ill? Just ask Dr. Hank


When Henry VIII wasn't jousting, playing tennis, shooting his bow and arrow, gambling, at church, smacking Cromwell or chasing the ladies, he was locked away in his chambers mixing up some pretty strange medical cures. Need a cure for those dreaded monthly cramps? Maybe you have a puss-filled ulcer that could use a little TLC? Just head on over to POP Tudors where I will be guest blogging on Henry VIII's favorite cures.

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Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Mary Tudor gets a new boyfriend

I am going to be a little late with this week’s episode of The Tudor's Historical vs. Hollywood, but I got a couple of emails from readers asking if Mary Tudor's love interest, Philip of Bavaria was a Hollywood invention. Philip Count Palatine, duke of Bavaria was a real person, but whether he was as hunky as Colin O’Donoghue is up for debate.

Philip, Duke of Bavaria came to England at the request of Henry VIII on December 8, 1539 with the hopes of wedding Mary. In the Tudors, Philip is portrayed as a Lutheran, but Cardinal Farnese reported to Pope Paul III that Philip was a Catholic. (1) Still, everyone knew the marriage alliance came with Lutheran and not Catholic support. Much like Cleves, Bavaria was closely aligned to the powerful princes of the Protestant Schmalkaldic league, but had not joined the league. At the time of the marriage negotiations, bets were being placed that Bavaria's status would soon change and upon hearing of the marriage negotiations, the French ambassador Castillon predicted that, ‘…if this King be abandoned both by Francis and the Emperor, he will enter the league and do his best to bring in the duke of Juliers [Duke William of Cleves] and the duke of Bavaria.’ (2) (Castillon’s prediction proved inaccurate because Henry stayed Catholic and Bavaria ended up fighting on the Catholic Imperial side in the Schmalkaldic War of 1546-1547….a story for another day.)

I hate to wreck a good love story, but Mary was actually not too keen on the idea of marrying Philip wishing instead ‘to continue still a maid during her life.’ But alas, she also understood that daddy’s wishes were to be obeyed and a secret betrothal was arranged. Philip was made a knight of the Order of England and a marriage contract and draft treaty were drawn up. In the marriage contract, Henry promised his daughter would come with a dowry including “40,000 golden florins” and a bunch of other goodies (but inheriting the thrown of England was not one of them). In return, Philip promised to kick the French or Imperial king’s butt if they dared to gang up on Henry. Philip then spoke to Mary in the gardens then adjoining the abbey of Westminster using some latin and German translators. Mary's dashing new suitor was even bold enough to plant a wet one on his future bride. Awwwwww. Had Mary found true love? According to court gossip, the betrothal was at least a done deal and the happy couple, ‘mutually declared, the said lord his resolution, taken with this King, to have her for wife …and the said lady her willingness to obey her father.'(3)

Then…inexplicably, the marriage negotiations fell apart and Philip returned to his own country mid January. We are left to speculate on why the match failed, but most likely Henry changed his mind because he didn’t need the support of the Protestant League once French and Imperial forces were no longer a threat.

But if you want to see more of the gorgeous O’Donoghue then viewers might be in luck because history tells us that we have not seen the last of Philip. He returned to England in 1546 to win Mary back. Will these two star-cross lovers find true love? Maybe season four will continue their torrid tale...

Notes:
(1) L.P., vol. XIV Part 2: August-December 1539, Card Farnese to Paul III
(2)L.P., vol. XIV Part 1: January-July 1539, pp. 51-77. Castillon to Montmorency
(3) L.P., vol. XIV Part 2: August-December 1539, Marillac to Montmorency

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Friday, May 22, 2009

Showtime's The Tudors: Historical vs. Hollywood – Episode 7

In Episode seven, Henry has fallen in love. Unfortunately, the object of his affection is a small miniature portrait and not the real woman it portrays. The miniature (shown here) is truly beautiful and can be seen in the Victoria and Albert Museum. Aside from her stunning portrait, most reports of Anne’s beauty were favorable too. The English ambassador, Christopher Mont reported that, ‘She excelleth the Duchess [of Milian], as the golden sun excelleth the silvern moon.’ (The Tudors uses this quote). This comment would be kind of like trying to fix a guy up on a blind date and saying, “She looks like Julia Roberts….except hotter". As discussed in last episode, The Duchess of Milan was truly the Julia Roberts of her day. We can imagine how high the bar was set.

Meanwhile, things are getting messy in England. The Spanish and French ambassadors have been recalled—a clear sign that war is about to be declared on England. Cromwell suggests a Cleves marriage to protect England from Franco-Imperial forces and Henry agrees. Henry has now become desperate for the support of the Schmalkaldic League. Just trying saying Schmalkaldic three times and you will understand why he was so desperate.

Later, Chapuys appears in a meeting with Henry and tells him that it was just rumors that he had been recalled and that he never left. This is not exactly true. Chapuys was recalled but not for an extended period.

Meanwhile The Duke of Suffolk and Edward Seymour are up to no good. They decide to patch up their quarrels and unite in the common goal of bringing down Cromwell. In reality, the Duke of Norfolk and Stephen Gardiner were the main faction moving against Cromwell . More on that later…

When Mary hears about the Cleves marriage, she has a hissy fit and has a few choice words for what she thinks of a Lutheran queen. As discussed in last week’s post, Anne was a Catholic. But most importantly, Mary never wished Anne to the “bottom of the sea.”But this is sort of a real line from history. Anne Boleyn had supposedly wished Catherine of Aragon and all her Spanish cohorts to the bottom of the sea. Good line. Wrong person.

The Tudors shows Brandon meeting Anne in Calais, but in reality it was Lord Lisle who had been instructed to greet her. What is true is the foreboding weather we see in the background because Anne’s departure from Calais was delayed due to strong winds. The person in charge of entertaining Anne was Admiral Fitzwilliam. (The Tudors shows the hunky Brandon as Anne’s chief entertainer…and who really can complain about another scene with Brandon?) The card game that Brandon (Fitzwilliam) and Anne play was called ‘cent’ and by Fitzwilliam’s report, Anne was a quick learner.

Anne and her party then set sail for the Downs where they were met by Brandon and his wife, but the weather was still so bad that it caused further delays. Henry became so impatient to meet his beloved that he decided he must go to her instead and “nourish love.” (a real quote) The scene that unfolds simply doesn’t do the true meeting justice. In the Tudors, Henry rushes to Rochester with a gift of sables. As soon as he lays eyes on Anne, he is repulsed and leaves without giving her his gift of sables. Boo hoo.

Why bull-baiting makes a terrible first date
In reality, Shakespeare could not have written a better tragic comedy for Anne and Henry’s first meeting. Anthony Browne, A gentlemen of the King’s chamber who was very close to the king, left us a first hand account of their botched first meeting. Here is what really happened:

New Year’s day was almost over and Anne was watching the bull-baiting out the window of her chamber. In 16th century England, bull-baiting and bear-baiting were as patriotic as making fun of the queen’s hats is today. Anne didn’t get out much in Cleves so we can imagine that she must have been feeling a mixture of awe and….my these English are a much of hooligans! In walks Henry. But he isn’t dressed as Henry with his usually 80’s style puffy sleeves and ridiculously tight hose. He is dressed in a bear suit.

No, I jest. He wasn’t dressed as a bear because that would have been actually funny. But he was disguised as a regular old fat courtier. If you and I were there, we might immediately have said,…Look! There is big fat Henry and not been fooled one bit. But Anne had never seen the 6.2 king and wasn’t expecting any pranks. To Henry, these were not pranks, but part of the ritual of courtly love. Henry, like others of his day, believed that your true love would always see through any disguise. Unfortunately, Anne had not been schooled in the art of English flirting and she was too engrossed in the bull-baiting to notice her true love. Henry then left the room and reentered dress like a king. Anne suddenly realized she had just dissed the king of England….not a good start to marital bliss.

Henry then returns to court and mutters his infamous quote, “I like her not!” (In the Tudors, he says it three times…that might be overkill) Henry screams, “She looks like a horse…a Flanders Mare!” As discussed in an earlier posting, Henry never said this infamous line.

A bunch of finger pointing on whom exaggerated Anne’s appearance then follows. The scene does provide some comic relief when Hutton makes the anachronistic comment, “I told you that I was no good with women.” Although this comment made me giggle like Kathryn Howard on a swing, Wotton did say in one of his reports, ‘I knowledge myself of judgement herein very ignorant. ‘ Sorry Cromwell. He warned you.

Heads are going to fly! Henry warns, “I am not well- handled.”( a real quote) . He then tells Cromwell that he has been backed into a corner and, 'if it were not that she had come so far into my realm, and the great fear of making a ruffle in the world and of driving her brother into the arms of the Emperor and the French King, I would not now marry her.' Politics had locked Henry into an unwanted marriage, but political alliances could change quickly…as we shall see later.

We must remember that many of those surrounding Henry might have been shocked by his reaction. By all accounts, Anne was very pretty. She came with the backing of the Schmalkaldic League and an impressive royal lineage. She was intelligent and could read and write in German. (It is doubtful Jane could read and write). She was rumored to be virtuous which was VERY important to Henry as we will see later with Miss Giggles. And although she could not dance, sing, flirt or play any instruments, she was a whiz with a needle and thread. But alas, Henry didn’t need a wife to make shirts.

Henry then sent his council scrambling to find a legal loophole out of the wedding. He says, 'Is there no remedy, but that I needs must put my neck into the yoke?' (The Tudor uses this quote.) Cromwell certainly better find a remedy or he is going to find his neck yoked with the edge of a blunt axe.

Henry goes through with the wedding, but he looks like he about to have 10 teeth pulled instead of wedding a beautiful girl. In reality, Henry appeared perfectly content in public.

When is a pear not just a pear?
Meanwhile, Cromwell catches a young boy of his court trying to steal a pear as he is praying in his chambers. The boy is shocked to see Cromwell not praying in church. Cromwell then gives him the “god is everywhere” lecture and tells the boy that he does not need to go to church to talk to god. This is what I was taught in Catholic school, but it was heresy then. In the 16th century, the church had a monopoly on god. If you wanted to pray, you had to come to church. If you wanted forgiveness, then you had to pay for an indulgence. If you wanted to get married, then you had to go to the church. We tend to take our freedom of choice for granted, but it was something 16th century people had to fight for. (and that’s all the lecturing I will do on religion…promise)

Also of note is the significance of the pear in this scene. I can’t take credit for this one because I am simply not this observant, but a reader on the Tudor discussion board pointed out that a pear in Christianity symbolized Christ’s love for mankind. (In the above painting of the Madonna and Child she offers up a pear. ) Some might argue that a pear is just a pear, but I think the writers’ choice was not arbitrary.

On Henry and Anne’s wedding night, they are up really late but unfortunately…they were not doing newlywed things. They were playing cards. In their bed, Henry is so repulsed that he appears to have some amusing performance problems. Many historians have proposed that Henry may have been impotent by this point so this scene is not pure Hollywood.

The next day, Cromwell asks Henry what he thinks of Anne and Henry replies, 'Surely, my lord, I liked her before not well, but now I like her much worse! '(The Tudors uses this quote) Henry even suspects Anne’s virginity. His evidence was the, 'looseness of her breasts and other tokens'—a sure sign by 16th century standards that the filly had been broken in. Henry then claimed that he could not be, ‘stirred to that act’ and left her as good a maid as he found her. Henry later confides to Doctor Butts that he can not perform with the queen because he finds her body so “disorderly”. He places the blame squarely on Anne because he has had several wet dreams . (yes, he really said this). Poor Anne. Did I mention she was handy with a needle?

Cromwell then meets with Anne and tells her to do everything she can to please the king. We have no record of such a conversation taking place, but it is interesting to get a dramatic portrayal of what Anne might have thought. In the Tudors, she tells Cromwell that Henry is no prize with his stinkin leg wound.

The Tudors ends with a scene between Lady Bryan and Anne where Lady Bryan is forced to give her “the birds and the bees” conversation. Anne tells her that the king kisses her goodnight and asks her…isn’t that enough? If we look back at what the real Henry looked like, one would say….sheesh that IS enough. This scene did happen, but the conversation took place with Lady Rochford and not Lady Bryan. The episode ends with Anne asking the question on everyone’s mind, “If I cannot please the king, will he kill me?

Stay tuned to for the final episode of Historical vs. Hollywood to find out…

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Tuesday, May 19, 2009

The Execution of Anne Boleyn: The Prophecy of Merlin fulfilled?


Today marks the anniversary of Anne Boleyn’s death. The following account details her execution from a Spanish report:

Immediately the executioner did his office; and when her head was off it was taken by a young lady and covered with a white cloth. Afterwards the body was taken by the other ladies, and the whole carried into the church nearest to the Tower of London. …Thus, he who wrote this billet says that, according to old writings, he has seen the prophecy of Marlin fulfilled.(1)

The Prophecy of Merlin
The “prophecy of Marlin” refers to the prophecy of Merlin (16th century people couldn’t spell)*. These prophecies were printed in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Book of Merlin in his Historia Regum Brittaniae. The book first appeared in the 12th century and chronicled the history of the Britons and the predictions of the wizard Merlin from the Arthurian Legend. One of these prophecies foretold that Henry should take power from Rome, ‘root out from the land all the razored skulls;’ and should neither spare, “man in his rage nor woman in his lust.” (2)

Sibyllic prophecies
During the 16th century, prophecies in England existed in two major forms. The first was Sibyllic in which initials, numbers and puns represented someone’s name. An example of a popular Sibyllic prophecy was, ‘that A B and C should sit all in one seat, and should work great marvels,’ (3) The A and B supposedly stood for Anne Boleyn while the C stood for either Cromwell or Cranmer.

Another prophecy printed in a book of prophecies featured a poisoned ink drawing illustrating a male figure labeled as “H” and two female figures labeled, “K” and “A.” The H figure obviously stood for Henry while the K and A figures stood for Henry's two dueling wives, Katherine and Anne. Unfortunately the A figure was missing her head. (Anne saw the drawings, but dismissed them as “bauble”. )

Another example of a popular Sibyllic prophecy during Henry’s reign was:

When hempe is ripe and ready to pull,
Then, Englishman, beware thy skull.”
(4)

The word “hempe” was meant to signify the beginning initials of England’s monarchs. H represented Henry VIII, E represented Edward, M represented Mary, P represented Philip II who supposedly shared in the prediction by marrying Mary, and E represented Elizabeth.

Galfriedian prophecies
The second popular form of prophecy was called Galfriedian, and employed the use of animals and other living creatures to represent a person. An example of a popular Galfriedian prophecy (and far less flattering to Anne ) was:

when this Cowe rideth the bull
than priest beware thy skull.’


The cow represented Henry VIII and the bull represented Anne Boleyn.

The prophecy that came true (sort of)
Another popular prophecy might have come true if Henry had followed through with the harsher punishment for traitors of burning. This prophecy, whose origins are unknown, predicted that a queen of England should be burnt at the stake. After the honeymoon phase had ended with Henry and the happy couple started to bicker, Anne might have taken this prediction more seriously. In an argument with Henry she told her husband that it had been said that a queen of England would be burnt but, “even if I were to suffer a thousand deaths, my love for you would not abate one jot’. (5) I wonder is she would have still felt this way with her head missing?

Prophecies, like rumors, are interesting to dissect because they often reflect the people’s fears and hopes. Stay tuned for a future post on the predictions of Elizabeth Barton, The Holy Maid of Kent.

*ok, they could spell, but their spelling was not confined to an alphabet of 26 letters nor any strict spelling convention. If you were to step back in the 16th century and tell Elizabeth I that she couldn't spell she might say, God's teeth! and send you along your way as a crazy person. For a further description of the Tudor alphabet - Read the The Raucous Royals by yours truly.

Notes:
(1) 'Henry VIII: May 1536, 16-20', Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume 10: January-June 1536 (1887), pp. 371-391
(2) Mackay, p 281
(3) Dodds, p4
(4) Mackay, p 281
(5) Starkey, Kindle location 7161

Sources and Further Reading:
Mackay, Charles. Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds, New Yorkm, NY: Three Rivers Press, 1995.
Starkey, David. The Six Wives of Henry VIII. New York, NY: Harper Perennial, 2004.
Political Prophecies in the Reign of Henry VIII, Dodds, Madeleine Hope, The Modern Language Review, Voll 11, No. 3 (Jul., 1916) pp. 276-284.
Ives, Eric. The Life and Death of Anne Boleyn, Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2005.

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