Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
Getting into the head of today’s public figures is tough enough. You might well have a strong opinion about the Duchess of Cornwall or Cherie Blair only to meet them and be utterly surprised.
So attempting to reconstruct the life of an obscure 14th century woman is an ambitious challenge. Especially when source material is scant and what we do have is highly biased.
Thankfully, it’s a challenge that Alison Weir rises to with robust research and inspired imagination.
‘Katherine Swynford: the story of John of Gaunt and his scandalous duchess’ is the kind of masterpiece that demonstrates exactly why Weir is one of the world’s best-selling historians. The author pieces together fragments of source material and weaves them into the tapestry of history. With Weir’s gift of empathy, the reader is left with little doubt as to why Katherine was a woman who captured the heart of a prince and aroused the suspicions of a nation.
The book begins with Sywnford’s arrival in England at around the age of two. It follows her early life and first marriage. It shows how the life of Katherine and her husband Hugh became entangled with the Lancastrian court.
As the book’s sub-heading suggests, the narrative also explores the story of John of Gaunt. By using sources such as Chaucer’s poetry, Weir paints a picture of Gaunt’s first marriage to Blanche of Lancaster. She brings to life the grief he almost certainly felt at her untimely death.
Gaunt and Swynford’s relationship almost certainly begins after the couple are respectively widowed. Gaunt, however, had embarked on a second marriage. The author uses compelling evidence to disprove later claims that their children were conceived in ‘double adultery.’ Using records of grants made to Katherine from John, the author credible speculates as to the date of birth of each of the four Beaufort children, while recognising the limitations of the exercise.
This book is not a photograph. It’s an artist’s impression. And Alison Weir is quite the painter. By detailing what we know of Kettlethorpe manor and great houses Katherine lived in we get a sense as to what daily life might have looked like. No sources mention her intellect or character. But Weir shrewdly deduces that her appointment as governess to the Lancastrian princesses suggests she was both clever and sophisticated. Above all else, the author rescues Katherine from the reputation dished upon her by monkish chroniclers.
Some commentators have been critical of this presentation of history. If the facts of what we know of someone’s life can fit on the back cover, is it appropriate to attempt a full biography? But I defy anyone to read this work and not deem it a useful exercise.
Intelligent speculation may have its limits. But with Weir’s gifts of empathy, her thorough research and knowledge of the era, one of history’s most elusive figures can finally step into the spotlight and enjoy a measure of the attention she deserves.
Katherine Swynford: The Story of John of Gaunt and His Scandalous Duchess is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
Over on facebook, we Royal History Geeks have been debating our favourite Queens from history. It’s what super-cool people do.
What many people don’t know (and let’s be honest, why should they?) is that in the British system, there are five different types of Queen.
Thought it would be worth a quick post to clarify.
QueenRegnant
When a woman inherits the crown in her own right, she is a ‘Queen Regnant.’ She reigns by right of birth and has the same powers and responsibilities as a King.
In English history there have been six undisputed Queen Regnants: Mary I, Elizabeth I, Mary II, Anne, Vicotria and Elizabeth II.
Scotland has been reigned over by five Queen Regnants – Mary Queen of Scots, Mary II, Anne, Queen Victoria, and the present Queen.
Mary I was the first undisputed Queen Regnant of England
Queen Consort
This is the most common kind of Queen in history. The wife of a King. In the British system, she is ‘Her Majesty the Queen’ and signs ‘R’ for ‘Regina’ after her name – exactly as a Queen Regnant would.
Queen Alexandra was consort to Edward VII
Queen Dowager
A former Queen Consort whose husband is dead. In the British system she is rarely known as ‘Queen Dowager.’ Instead she uses ‘Queen first name’. For example, the widow of George V was known as Her Majesty Queen Mary during the reign of her sons and granddaughter. She is still a Queen. But she is no longer the Queen.
Elizabeth Woodville, was restored to ‘Queen Dowager’ status when Henry VII became King
Queen Mother
When a Dowager Queen is the mother of the reigning monarch, they are often informally known as ‘Queen Mother.’ It is rarely an official style. But it was from 1952 – 2002. Because of confusion potentially arising from the presence of two Queen Elizabeths at the same time, the mother of the current Queen officially assumed the style ‘Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Mother.’ However, servants and those ‘close’ to her referred to her simply as ‘Queen Elizabeth.’
It is important to note, that the mother of monarch cannot be given Queen Mother status is she were never a Queen herself. As such the mothers of Edward IV, Henry VII and Queen Victoria were never styled as ‘Queen Mother’. Though in the case of the first two, they were effectively treated as such.
The widowed Queen Elizabeth officially adopted the title ‘Queen Mother’
Queen Regent
These are rare. If a King were absent for a period of time, he may leave his wife in charge. As such, she would become ‘Queen Regent’ and exercise the Royal prerogative on his behalf.
The style would typically only last a few weeks. Both Katherine of Aragon and Katherine Parr enjoyed this distinction during the reign of Henry VIII.
There are occasions where the arrangement lasts longer. Mary de Guise was Queen Regent of Scotland during the long minority of her daughter.
It is highly unlikely that we will ever see another Queen Regent in the UK. The creation of ‘Councillors of State’ removes the need for short-term regency. Were a regency ever required to deal with an under-age or incapacitated monarch, law dictates that this role should go to the next adult in the line of succession. A Queen Consort could never be that person.
Katherine Parr briefly ruled England as regent
Hope this helps!
So – here’s the question Royal History Geeks: who is your favourite Queen of each type and why?
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
For many years ‘The Wars of the Roses’ were confined to a paragraph or two in the introduction to Tudor history books. We, the readers, had to endure just a few lines about random battles, murderous uncles and cooky Plantagenet cousins. If we did, we knew we’d be treated to tales of religious reform, six wives and female succession.
But we didn’t know what we were missing. Under the skilful craftmanship of Dan Jones, this series of bloody conflicts finally take their place in the spotlight.
The 370-page publication spans a 45-year time period and touches on the reigns on five kings. But despite the breadth of the topic, Jones paints a vivid and detailed picture of the breakdown of England’s political system and the lust for power that followed it.
The book begins with the marriage of Henry VI’s parents. By beginning the narrative here rather than an earlier point in history, Jones is implicitly nailing his colours to the mast. Committed to the Tudor perspective that the conflicts have their origins in the downfall of Richard II? You’re going to disappointed. Sympathetic to the Whig notion that Edward III doomed his descendants to disaster? Look away now. Like recent scholarship, Jones roots the cause of conflict squarely in the ineffectual kingship of the last Lancastrian ruler.
As Henry grows, his inability to perform even the most basic facet of Kingship becomes increasingly obvious. For the best part of two decades the political establishments attempts to create a mechanism for governing England without a functioning monarch. But in the run up to 1450 it all came crumbling down
The 1450s is a decade of battles, high politics and low humanity. With vivid storytelling the author brings them to life. Characters like Margaret of Anjou, Richard of York and a succession of Somerset Dukes become real to us. Jones correctly notes that it is not until York puts his hand on the throne and claims the crown in 1460, that the Wars of the Roses can truly be called a dynastic conflict.
The book bounces through the early years of Yorkist rule under Edward IV. Like most accounts of the era, it focuses on his unpopular marriage to Elizabeth Wydeville, which in turn leads to a rebellion by Warwick and the second phases of the wars. The rest of Edward’s reign is centred on the fallout with his brother, Clarence. Eventually we follow the dramatic events of Edwards’s death, the brief succession of his son and Gloucester’s usurpation of the throne as Richard III. The author does well not to dwell on the fate of the princes in the tower. As Alison Weir has demonstrated, that topic requires a book of its own. (But let’s be honest, we all now Richard did it.)
In events familiar to Royal History Geeks, Henry VII ultimately wins the crown at Bosworth field. He holds the throne for almost 25 years and is succeeded by his son. But it is years before he is free from the threats of pretenders.
Like its predecessor, ‘The Plantagenets’, the book is ambitious in its scale. As a result, it cannot focus on any of either Edward IV or Henry VII’s reign in detail. But it does provide a cohesive overview that is essential for anyone looking to study either king in greater depth.
The book is lively and well crafted. Some of the sentences are almost poetic. It’s clear from the first few pages that Jones has grown as a writer since 2012’s ‘The Plantagenets’. (This may sound a little patronising. Let me be clear: I would give my right arm to be able to write a book as good as the Plantagenets.)
But perhaps the greatest achievement of this book is the way it makes ‘recent’ and innovative scholarship accessible. In the last three decades, historians such as John Watts and Christine Carpenter have boldly attempted to reconstruct the Kingship of Henry VI. They drive home its fundamental inadequacy from its inception. Jones’s work is the first attempt I have come across to draw on this scholarship and present it in the popular genre.
Since the discovery of Richard III’s remains, interest in the Wars of the Roses has reached fever pitch. Source material is scant and scholarship is complicated. But through well-written and beautifully crafted accounts like this, the public can access the latest thinking, correct misconceptions that arise from fiction and get a grip on one of England’s most intriguing sagas. Dan Jones sets the standard. If only more would rise to it.
The Hollow Crown – The Wars of the Roses and the Rise of the Tudors, is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
That’s about the sum of Tudor history I picked up at school. Against the backdrop of a blackboard, a cold classroom and an uninspired teacher, the history of England seemed about as exciting as a wet weekend in Brighton.
But years later I would learn the truth. That I was lucky enough to inhabit an island brimming with a history of drama that even fiction writers would be unable to fabricate. A big part of that realisation begun when, before a long train journey, I purchased a copy of the intrepid ‘Six Wives’ by David Starkey.
Starkey – as many will know – has an academic background. The book is dense with research. But there is not a dry paragraph in this 795-page epic. I have read three collective biographies of the six Tudor Queens. Starkey’s is the most readable. Combining wit and a touch of sass with well-formed sentences and colourful language, the book is as gripping as a thriller.
The early pages follow Katherine of Aragon as she sets sail for a new life in England and marriage to Arthur, Prince of Wales. It takes us through her destitute widowhood and her ultimate triumph upon marriage to the 18-year-old Henry VIII. We explores her active role in government and regency of England before her marriage is doomed by a failure to produce a son, a prickling of the King’s conscience and the rise of Anne Boleyn.
The King’s ‘great matter’ (the divorce of Katherine and marriage to Anne) dominates the next section of the book. Henry’s second Queen emerges as a wily and aggressive manipulator. But Starkey is not without sympathy. He is clear that she is not guilty of the crimes she loses her head for. And, unlike some historians, he is not prepared to let Henry off the hook.
Jane Seymour emerges. Jane Seymour gives birth. Jane Seymour dies. Anne of Cleves and Katherine Howard both give the reader an interesting interlude. The book concludes with Katherine Parr, the canny reformer who published books, kept her head and briefly ruled England.
Starkey has shown great wisdom in the tome’s structure. Implicitly he accepts that each Queen is not equal in significance. Jane Seymour’s legacy is essentially confined to one act of childbirth. Anne of Cleves and Katherine Howard are marginal in their impact. The intellectual Starkey holds a torch for blue stocking Katherine Parr. But it is Katherine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn who shaped the character of Henry, his actions as king and the fate of the nation. Together they claim 73% of the book’s content.
Starkey is surely right to devote the bulk of the book to the first two Queen’s. But as a result, the rest of the reigns feel a little like a flash in the pan. But then, this is probably how they felt to contemporaries.
Because of the strong narrative, colourful language and modern colloquialisms, Starkey’s work has attracted criticism from other academics. No doubt some of it is valid – though we must be mindful of the presence of the green-eyed monster. But it is through writing in this accessible and compelling manner that Starkey and others have rescued the stories of Henry’s wives from the doldrums of the classroom. They have inspired documentaries, historical fiction and other popular biographies.
These women played their part in shaping our history. Thanks to books like ‘Six Wives’, a popular appreciation of their significance continues to grow.
Six Wives, the Queens of Henry VIII, is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
Ten years ago, most people had never heard the name Margaret Beaufort. The mother of the Tudors may have been significant to history, but she was lacking a popular profile.
How times have changed.
Thanks to an explosion of interest in the latter half of the 15th century, fuelled in part by a wealth of historical fiction, Margaret has shot to fame. Or perhaps ‘infamy’.
For whatever reason, script writers and novelists have chosen to portray Margaret as a sinister character. And for many people, fiction has been taken as fact.
It’s time for the truth to be told. And in ‘the Uncrowned Queen’ that’s exactly what Nicola Tallis sets out to do.
The beginning of the book details the history of the Beaufort family and sets Margaret’s birth in the context of her royal descent from Edward III. So often the Beauforts are simply a footnote in the Tudor origin story. Readers will appreciate the attention that Tallis gives them.
As Margaret is born, readers quickly get a sense of how the tumultuous turns of fortune’s wheel will dominate her life. By the time she is a year old, her father is dead. She is one of England’s richest heiresses. But she is also without a protector.
By the age of 13, Margaret is both a widow and a teenage mother. She marries twice more before playing her famous role in the downfall of Richard III. Tallis depicts Margaret as a woman who was a natural risk taker but became more cautious following a miscalculation in 1469. But as Richard’s regime crumbled, she sensed her opportunity. Once again, she through caution to the wind.
Upon her son’s ascension, Margaret becomes known as ‘My lady, the King’s mother.’ And from this point on, records become plentiful. Tallis uses the vast sources to great effect, painting a glorious picture of Margaret’s later year. Yes, she was pious and invested in learning. But as her household accounts reveal, she also liked the finer things in life.
Some have criticised the book for being the ‘account that Margaret would have wanted written.’ One that emphasises Margaret’s qualities but fails to explore some of her less pleasant characteristics. But all this really means is that the author has spent little time addressing the accusations that popular fiction has thrown Margaret’s way. And why should she? They aren’t based on historical fact.
The hardback book is beautifully produced. Margaret would have been proud to find her portrait positioned above the Beaufort portcullis and inbetween two mythical Yales from the Beaufort crest. The typeface throughout the biography is both pretty and easy to read. The book contains two sections of stunning imagery.
To many Royal History Geeks, the outline of Margaret’s life will be well known. What I particularly like about this book is the colour it adds to the picture. Descriptions of the houses and castles in which Margaret dwelled helps us picture her in situ. Analysis of her household accounts give a glimpse into her character.
Misunderstandings around the character of Margaret Beaufort are set to continue. Such is the power of fiction and social media certainly doesn’t help. But for people really wanting to delve into the history of the woman who gave birth to the Tudor dynasty, it’s reassuring to know that ‘the truth is out there.’ Much of it can be found in this excellent biography.
Uncrowned Queen, the Fateful Life of Margaret Beaufort, Tudor Matriarch, is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
The heart of Katherine of Aragon emanates from her surviving letters. Everybody has an opinion about Anne Boleyn. But Jane Seymour, the third wife of Henry VIII, is a more elusive figure.
One of her brothers would become a major political player. Another would gain a reputation as a scoundrel. Her son would oversee sweeping religious reforms. But what do we truly know of the woman herself?
Combining her gifts of imagination and empathy with innovative new research, Alison Weir gives us a glimpse of the answer. In the third of Weir’s historical novels on the wives of Henry VIII, Jane steps forward as a kind, nurturing woman who was not afraid to go for what she wanted when she believed it was right.
As the book begins, we meet a young Jane growing up at Wolf Hall. As a girl, she ponders a career as a nun. But then her tranquil life is disrupted by the revelation of a scandal.
Jane ultimately decides to pursue the path of court service and the hope of an honourable marriage. During her time in the Queen’s household, Jane grows in devotion to Katherine of Aragon. She forms a loyalty to her and her daughter Mary that will last a lifetime.
This loyalty to Katherine is intuitively used to explain Jane’s motivation as the book progresses. It makes it credible that the usually demure and chaste Jane eventually seizes her opportunity with the King. It makes it believable that such a kind-hearted woman could act as an accomplice to the downfall of Anne Boleyn. It also helps explain her determination to see the Lady Mary restored to favour.
But Weir’s Jane is not a two-dimensional character. She feels guilt around her role in Anne’s demise. The late Queen may have departed the mortal coil, but as the book’s title suggests, she never quite leaves Jane’s thoughts.
As the book ends, Weir experiments with some new theories on the nature of the illness that caused Jane’s tragic and premature death. While I can’t relate to this personally, it’s clear from the reaction to the book that this has deeply touched a number of women who have themselves been through a difficult childbirth. The book may be based on characters who lived 500 years ago. But it touches the hearts of people today.
The book is written in a flowing, legato style. Happily, it is heavy on dialogue. As with all Alison Weir fiction books, it features an author’s note that sets out what is historical fact, what is imagined and what is invented. As a true Royal History Geek, my only complaint is that I wish the note were 10 times longer. But fear note fanatics: the author has teased that an updated version of her 1991 ‘Six Wives’ factual epic may hit shelves in the future.
Historical fiction will always divide opinion. When an author pens a fictional account, it is free from footnotes, source criticism and histography. They must choose a path to the exclusion of all others. Not everyone will agree with Weir’s interpretation.
But even those that don’t are likely to recognise ‘The Haunted Queen’ as an example of historical fiction at its best. It opens a door to the past and offers us a moment of escape. But it also helps us to realise that while the setting, culture and expectations are different, the trials of humanity are common to all of us. Factual history helps us to understand our forebears. Historical fiction gives us a chance to share their humanity.
Six Tudor Queens: Jane Seymour – The Haunted Queen is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
Perhaps it’s the work of fiction writers. Maybe it’s the discovery of Richard III’s remains. But whatever the reason, the latter half of the 15th century has never attracted so much popular attention. If only we had a wealth of source material to satisfy the curiosity.
And what we do have – records of Parliament, patent rolls and a chronicle or two – focus on the exploits of men. That’s typical of medieval history. But it’s only half the story.
The long-running Wars of the Roses were a series of conflicts which saw women step outside their usual sphere of influence. It was Queen Margaret of Anjou – and not her husband Henry VI – that led the Lancastrian fight back against York in 1460. It was the plotting of Margaret Beaufort and Elizabeth Woodville that bought Richard III’s regime crashing down. It was Margaret of York, not either of her brothers, who came close to destroying Henry Tudor.
It would be tragic if those stories were lost to us. Thanks to the brilliant ‘Blood Sisters’ by the talented Sarah Gristwood, such a travesty is avoided.
The brilliant book is a collective biography of seven women who were at the centre of events in the latter 1400s. It records the high-profile exploits of the heroines already mentioned. But it also shows how women constituted a hidden but powerful network of influence which played a part in shaping politics. Cecily Neville, Anne Neville and Elizabeth of York would each played a crucial role in shaping our history. Even if they had to do it through sons, fathers, brothers and husbands.
The book is underpinned by an ocean of research. Yet every chapter is lively and accessible. Gristwood began her career as a journalist. It’s clear that writing remains one of her major gifts. Despite its length and density, it’s easy to read the book in a few sittings. Helpfully, given the number of heroines called ‘Margaret’, Gristwood uses culturally appropriate names to help the reader distinguish between them.
Popular historical fiction has partially distorted public understanding of this era. The book is not written as a response to the beautifully produced but controversial ‘White Queen’ series of 2013. It was published before the series aired. But because it covers a similar range of characters it is an essential tool for anyone wanting to separate the fact from fiction.
There is almost nothing I would change about this work. It is stunning and studious. But if I were being picky, I would eliminate Anne Neville from its pages. I have yet to be convinced that her contribution to history was particularly meaningful. In my view she should not benefit from the same attention as the remaining six heroines. But on balance, this is not a significant complaint. Afterall, to the true Royal History Geek, there’s no such thing as too much history.
In recent years, more attention has been given to the role women played in medieval history. Fiction in particular has tended to suggest that they were the prime instigators of social shifts and political upsets. As a feminist this appeals to me. As a historian I’m more cautious.
But in this researched and readable account, Gristwood demonstrates beyond doubt that this was a time when women broke the mould. They stepped outside expectations and rightly deserve to be called the authors of our history.
For any fan of the Wars of the Roses era, this book won’t just make an enjoyable addition to the reading list. It will shed light on a crucial dynamic to the conflicts that we are unlikely to come across in other accounts of the period.
Blood Sisters: The Women Behind the Wars of the Roses, is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list.
It’s the book I’d always wanted to write. But I’m glad I didn’t. Charting the choppy course of the Beaufort dynasty over three generations is an ambitious undertaking.
In 1370 they didn’t exist. By the 1400s they were dominant political players. In 1471, they were eliminated. I could never have done their unparalleled story justice. Thankfully, Nathen Amin does.
The book begins by exploring the Beaufort’s shaky origins as the illegitimate children of John of Gaunt, third son of Edward III, and his scandalous mistress, Katherine Swynford. It examines their rise to prominence under Richard II following their parents’ marriage and their own legitimisation.
We then travel through the 1400s. We see how they helped establish and protect the reign of their half-brother Henry IV and the Lancastrian dynasty. We learn about their role at the heart of Henry V’s government.
As the book draws to a close, we see how the family dominated the conflict we now call the ‘Wars of the Roses’. Their devotion to the house of Lancaster never falters – a devotion they pay for with their total elimination of their house in the male line.
The accessible and fluid writing style makes it easy to bounce through the 285-page epic. As we do, we’re again struck by how closely the history of the Beauforts mirrors the history of 15th century England. At least one of them was at the centre of every major event. They were the authors of victories. They were culpable for failures.
But this book is more than just a run-through of familiar events. Through focused research, intelligent guesswork and a hint of empathy the author explore the human dynamics and dilemmas that our subjects were doubtlessly faced with. John Beaufort’s conflict between his loyalty to Richard II and his devotion to his half-brother Henry IV, is an early example.
The author is bold in his attempt to rescue some of the Beauforts from a distorted reputation. He successfully sets Cardinal Beaufort’s decision to put Joan of Arc to death in its proper political context. He questions the oft-quoted notion that the younger John Beaufort died at his own hand.
Some of the Beauforts are well known to history. You simply can’t discuss Lancastrian kingship without discussing the Cardinal. Both Johns are remembered as the immediate ancestors of the Tudors. But this book sheds new light on the other two children to spring from Gaunt and Swynford’s union. Thomas is established as a war hero who became perfectly apt at playing the political game. Joan takes her place as a matriarch of the north.
There’s only one thing I would change about this book. It should be a trilogy. Each generation of the Beauforts deserve a book of their own. But I’m a fanatic. Publishers ultimately make the decision about what will sell. There probably isn’t a market for three books on the dynasty.
The hard-back edition comes with a clean and striking cover. Bearing the Beaufort arms, it looks grand on the bookshelf. There’s also some lovely photography at the book’s centre. The quality of the paper is a little on the low side. But the reader will be instantly absorbed by the page’s content. They’re unlikely to care what it’s printed on.
For too long the Beauforts have been reduced to a footnote in the Tudor’s origin story. In truth, they were the power breakers of Lancastrian kingship and the shapers of a century. It’s time they stepped forward and took their rightful place in the annuls of history. ‘The House of Beaufort’ plays a ground-breaking role in ensuring that they do.
The, House of Beaufort: The Bastard Line that Captured the Crown, is available from Amazon.
However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.
During a series of bloody battles, the Royal houses of Lancaster and York fought for the throne of England. The conflicts are known to us as the Wars of the Roses.
Both houses descended from Edward III. But who had the best claim to the throne?
The period drama is the best TV to hit our screens this year. But how do we get our heads around the different aristocratic titles used in the series?
Note: this post contains spoilers. If you haven’t watched all six episodes yet, do two things. 1) Do not read this post. 2) Book an appointment with a life coach to sort your life out. You are clearly making bad decisions.
There are probably people who aren’t raving about ITV’s Belgravia. But I can’t imagine I’d ever speak to those people.
The spectacular production did what period fiction does best. It granted us escape from the trials of our own world. It helped us see how much society has changed. It reminded us that human nature hasn’t.
A few people have asked me about the different styles and titles used in the six-episode epic. Why is Charles Pope’s grandmother called ‘Lady Brockenhurst’ when his finance is ‘Lady Maria’? Why is his grandfather a Lord while his grandfather’s brother is not?
This interest won’t last forever. I’ll strike while the iron is hot. Here is a quick guide to the titles and styles wielded by the hit show’s characters.
Like the best period dramas, the show allows us to escape from the trials of our own world
Explaining the styles of Belgravia’s titled characters
(Note: I have not included the Dukes of Wellington or Richmond, both real historical figures, who appear only in the first episode. I have included Edmund Bellasis due to his significance to the series).
Peregrine Bellasis, Earl of Brockenhurst
An earl is the third highest of the five ranks of hereditary peerage. It ranks below duke and marquess but above viscount and baron.
The character would be addressed as ‘Lord Brockenhurst’ by people within his social sphere. Servants would call him ‘my lord.’ Informally, peers may refer to him as ‘Peregrine Brockenhurst.’ His title is thus used as a surname, even though his actual surname is ‘Bellasis.’
We can deduce from the series that Peregrine’s full title is Earl of Brockenhust and Viscount Bellasis. More on this below.
Caroline Bellasis, Countess of Brockenhurst
The wife of an earl is a countess. People in her social sphere would refer to her as ‘Lady Brockenhurst’. Servants would address her as ‘my lady.’
In the series, Lady Brockenhurst is the daughter of a duke. As such her precedence was reduced upon marriage. A duke’s daughter outranks a countess.
But this is a technicality. There weren’t many dukes or marquesses around. The most important thing was marrying into a great landed family. Even a title wasn’t essential. The Earl of Brockenhurst would have been seen as a good match.
Edmund Bellasis, Viscount Bellasis
The eldest sons of an earl uses one of his father’s lesser titles (or subsidiary titles) by courtesy during the lifetime of his father. As such, Edmund is styled as a ‘Viscount’ even though, strictly speaking, he isn’t one. He can’t attend the House of Lords. Technically he’s commoner. But socially he is treated as if he held the rank. He would generally be addressed as ‘Lord Bellasis.’
Once acknowledged as heir, Charles Pope would become known as Viscount Bellasis
Charles Pope, Viscount Bellasis
Once recognised as the heir to Lord Brockenhurst, Charles becomes Viscount Bellasis. This is his father’s second title and the style his father had used.
Generally, only eldest sons use their father’s subsidiary title (see above). But because his father is dead, Charles is the heir apparent to the earldom. He can use the title because the only thing that will prevent him inheriting is if he predeceased his grandfather.
It’s worth noting that even though Charles’s surname is Pope, he could not style himself ‘Viscount Pope.’ Specific titles are created and inherited. You don’t just inherit a rank which can be moulded around your name.
The Hon. Rev. Stephen Bellasis
As a younger son of an Earl, the character is ‘the Honourable Stephen Bellasis.’ Because he is a vicar, he can add ‘Rev’ or ‘Rev’d’ to his style.
The style of honourable (which is also wielded by the children of viscounts and barons) is only used when referring to an individual. For example, if one were inviting the character to a social occasion (and if you are, I’d watch your valuables) the envelope would be addressed to ‘The Hon. Rev. Stephen Bellasis.’ However, you would begin the letter ‘Dear Mr Bellasis’ or ‘Dear Rev Bellasis.’
For most of the series, Stephen is the heir to the Earldom of Brockenhurst. However, he can’t use the title ‘Viscount Bellasis.’ He is not the heir apparent but the heir presumptive. At any stage he could be displaced if his brother had a son. While this may have seemed unlikely, it remained a theoretical possibility.
Wayward Stephen Bellasis was heir presumptive to the earldom of Brockenhurst for most of the series
The Hon. Mrs Bellasis
The long-suffering wife of Stephen enjoys the style of ‘honourable’ by dint of marriage. She is ‘the Hon. Mrs Bellasis’ and never ‘the Hon. Grace Bellasis.’ If you met her, you would simply address her as ‘Mrs Bellasis.’ When referring to her or introducing her, you would correctly use the full style.
The (Dowager) Duchess of Richmond
A Duchess is the wife of a Duke, the highest rank of peerage. On a handful of occasions, some women have been created duchesses in their own right or inherited a dukedom.
By the time we get to the second episode, the Duchess is a widow. She is therefore styled ‘The Dowager Duchess of Richmond’. By the mid-20th century, the term ‘dowager’ had become unpopular. Widowed peeresses use their Christian name to distinguish themselves from the wife of the current title holder. Had she been born a 100 years later, the character would most likely have been known as Charlotte, Duchess of Richmond.
A duchess would be addressed as ‘your grace’ by servants and those of a lower social order. People within her social sphere would call her ‘duchess.’
Lady Maria Grey
The daughters of Earls use the style ‘lady’ before her Christian name. Note, if not using the full name, it is always ‘Lady Maria’ and never ‘Lady Grey’. The latter would suggest she was a peeress or the wife of a knight.
Fun fact: eldest sons of earls use a lordly style, but younger sons are reduced to ‘the honourable.’ All daughters of an earl are styled as ‘lady.’
The Dowager Countess of Templemore
As a widow of an earl, the character is strictly the ‘Dowager Countess of Templemore’. However, in day to day life she would be referred to as ‘Lady Templemore.’
If she were in the same household as her son’s wife (or visiting), servants may refer to her as ‘the dowager’ in order to distinguish between the two. But they would address her directly as ‘my lady.’
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The series main characters, the Trenchards, are of lower status. They are trying to break into society. But this is not because they lack titles.
In the 1840s, most of England’s upper-class were untitled. What mattered was that your family had pedigree and land. In ‘Pride and Prejudice’ the untitled Mr Darcy is from the upper reaches of society.
The Trenchards are as rich as many of the titled characters. Even before his pedigree was discovered, Charles Pope would have been able to keep Lady Maria Grey in something resembling the style to which she had become accustomed. But that’s not the point.
The Trenchards could afford the trappings of the upper class but were not truly accepted among them
The Trenchards had the money – and even the land – to imitate the trappings of the upper class. But everyone knew how they’d got it.
Working for a living was dirty. Gentleman didn’t have to. Younger sons of landowner may have needed an income. They would find prestigious employment in the church or the army. At a push, the legal profession might be acceptable. But trade was unbecoming. Despite its lucrative rewards.
But all was not lost for the Trenchards. The upper classes had a short memory. By the early Victorian era, very few of them truly had pedigree from the high nobility. Their forefathers had, once upon a time, treaded the path of social progress. If the Trenchards were able to lose the ‘taint of trade’ they would be accepted as part of the gentry in a generation or two.
Setting Oliver free from the business and dispatching him to the country, as happened in the last episode, is no insult. By the time his ‘child’ reaches adulthood, there would be clear blue water between him and his grandfather’s business. He might finally be embraced as a gentleman.
This process was probably more subtle and fluid than I have sketched out above. You can see hints of it in the literature of the era. Austen’s Mr Darcy was keen to keep his friend Bingley from marriage to a Bennett girl. Jane’s family were on the fringes of the gentry. Their behaviour reinforced their modest status. Darcy could get away with marrying down. He was from the top-tier of the landed class. But Bingley had come up only recently. He was trying to lose the ‘taint of trade’ and needed to cover his blemishes with the best marriage possible.
None of this knowledge is important. The character inter-play, gripping narrative and beautiful production all speak for themselves.
But when you do know your stuff, the more you can appreciate just how well written and researched a series Belgravia is.
