This is the last video on Margaret Beaufort’s marriages – but NOT the last video in the Margaret Beaufort min-series.
Let me know what you think…
Author: Gareth - Editor
This is the last video on Margaret Beaufort’s marriages – but NOT the last video in the Margaret Beaufort min-series.
Let me know what you think…
We’re continuing to ask questions about Margaret’s marriages – this time to Henry Stafford.
Is it me, or do I look particularly cute in this vid 😉
I promised you a mini-series on Margaret Beaufort. And a mini-series on Margaret Beaufort you will get.
Here’s my mutterings on her first (proper) marriage.
What think you all?
NB: I make two mistakes in this video – one I didn’t realise until I uploaded it. Can you spot it?
Hi geeks! Currently ‘shooting’ a new video mini-series on the mother of the Tudors. Got some great questions in that I was going to answer all at once – but the video got way, way, way too long.
So here’s the intro. Pretty soon all the clips about Margaret and her marriages should be up. Hope you enjoy!
I’ve never been that interested in the debate around ‘when medieval England ended.’ It’s not a question that a contemporary could ever have asked and I don’t totally see the point in it.
Nonetheless I agree that saying the battle of Bosworth field was the ‘end of the medieval era’ is far too simplistic. People would not have looked out of their windows the day after and seen a radically different world.
That said, it is clear that the Tudor dynasty ushered in a new era in the way that England was governed. What fascinates me at the moment, is how much that may have been down (at least in part) to Henry VII’s personal style of Kingship.
I like Henry. It’s a shame that he gets so little attention in comparison to his showy son and chaotic Yorkist predecessors. But I genuinely believe he was a man of good character. Part of the reason for this, is that I believe he was less blood thirsty than your typical ruler – even if he was not adverse to tyrannical tendencies.
On the fact of it, my claim seems strange. This is, after all, a man who won the crown in battle and had to bear arms more than once to defend it. But when we take a minute to consider the context and other facts, I do think my comments have some credibility. For example:
Perhaps, after the Wars of the Roses, he thought England bored of battle. Maybe his own experience of a life on the run had exhausted his appetite for conquest. But whatever else can be said in critique of the miserly usurper, Henry Tudor, I would much rather live in a country with a high tax economy than one where my life was often in danger.
Maybe it was ‘The Other Boleyn Girl’’. ‘The Tudors’ probably packed a punch. It could just be the natural fascination we all have with tales of triumph that turn to disaster. But whatever the reason, Anne Boleyn is loved by 21st century history geeks.
I guess her courtship with Henry had all the great ingredients of a classic love story – and her downfall the perfect tragedy. She captures the imagination of the romantic, and as Alison Weir notes, in our 21st century mindset, she has reached the status of ‘celebrity’.
She deserves our interests – maybe even our fascination. But should she really command our love?
Let’s recap for a minute. This is a woman who ruthlessly forced a devout and caring woman off the throne and did her level best to ensure that she was treated as badly as possible for the remainder of her life. As Queen she did all she could to see the Lady Mary, Catherine of Aragon’s daughter humbled and harmed. If anyone got in her way, she destroyed them.
I’m not sure I’d want a girl like that for a friend.
Perhaps we’re reacting to centuries of Anne being treated unfairly. The ruthless ‘qualities’ that allowed her to prosper were much admired in men. Indeed, the equally savage Henry VIII has gone down in history as one of England’s greatest Kings. And of course, the (almost certainly) false charges levied against her have meant that previous generations regarded her as a sexually perverse harlot.
Her intelligence, her cunning and her determination now receive much greater recognition from historians. This is positive. But am I the only one that thinks there’s something freakishly ironic about how the blogsphere fawns over Anne as if she’s some kind of tragic heroine. If the character of Anne Boleyn was cast on Eastenders she would be seen as far worse than a soap bitch. She would be hounded as an undisputable villain.
Okay Boleyn fans…are you going to let me get away this this? Show me where I’m going wrong.
Loyal readers will know that I’m something of a ‘Wars of the Roses’ fan. I mean, obviously I’m not actually a fan of any war – but you get what I mean.
Some argue the wars ended in 1471, others in 1485. In reality they are still bring fought today – just on social media rather than the battle field.
Or, to be less dramatic, it is fair to say that the debate around which Royal House – York or Lancaster – had the best claim to the throne is still hotly debated.
The argument – with respect to my fellow geeks – is not always at the most sophisticated level. A slightly flippant summary would go along the lines of ‘I’m a Tudor geek so Lancaster had the best claim’ to be retaliated with ‘York had the moral high ground because I fancy Max Irons.’
Up until recently, my more moderate view was that ‘York probably had the best claim’ while accepting it wasn’t a black and white issue. I even created some quite hilarious memes to that effect. But there’s a reason I decided to pick up my virtual biro and pen this post. That’s right super cool readers…following a bit more research, I have changed my mind.
Let’s have a quick recap. In 1399, Henry Bolinbroke deposed his cousin Richard II and established the house of Lancaster on the throne of England.
Henry IV – as Bolinbroke became – was the eldest boy of John of Gaunt – third son of Edward III.
The Lancastrian crown then passed safely down the dynasty for three generations until in the late 1450s people got fed up with the well meaning but weak Henry VI who was probably mentally ill. He was challenged for the throne by his distant cousin Richard, Duke of York – a descendant of Edmund of Langley, Edward III’s fourth surviving son.
On the face of it therefore, York’s claim seems pretty weak; Langley was certainly the younger brother to Gaunt. But here’s the snag. Richard was also descended from Philippa of Clarence, the daughter of Lionel of Antwerp – Edward III’s second son. So, if you accept that women can transmit their claim to the throne to their male descendants, York really did have a claim worth taking seriously.
By the end of the end of the 15th century, descent through the female line was broadly accepted as a legal basis for succession. Henry VII loosely claimed the throne through his mother, Margaret Beaufort and his son had a far greater claim through descent from Elizabeth of York. Perhaps because my interest in history began in the Tudor era, I have always been tempted to read this mindset into earlier generations and this might be why I had always assumed York’s claim was slightly superior, despite recognising it was complicated.
However, the more I’ve researched the politics, law and conventions of the 14th century, the more I’ve begun to question my thinking. I’ve discovered that- while Salic law, which prohibits women from inheriting the throne was never formally introduced – the trend toward male-only inheritance was gaining currency. Many nobles were entailing their estates so that only sons could inherit.
It would seem that the great Edward III has similar sentiments. Disaster struck the Royal House when Edward the Prince of Wales (known to history as the ‘Black Prince’) died prematurely leaving one surviving son behind. In a world of high mortality, the succession was far from secure.
To the political classes it was unclear whether the next heir after Prince Richard (the future Richard II) was Roger Mortimer, son of Philippa of Clarence (the heir general) or John of Gaunt and his son (the heirs male).
Essentially, because the Duke of York inherited the Mortimer claim via his mother, it is this question that legitimised the Wars of the Roses. But, little did I realise until recently, it is actually one that Edward III had decided to answer. In 1376 he created a document that made clear his intent to entail the throne through the male line. Should Richard II’s line fail, his intent was that the crown should pass to Lancaster.
Legally, the only thing that could really override this would be if Richard had nominated a successor – but he appeared to leave the question open, possibly for political leverage. However he did ultimately name Henry as his successor by the handing over of the ring – admittedly under some duress. When Parliament accepted Henry IV’s sovereignty in 1399 it was probably not because of the size of his army – and indeed there is much to suggest that his ‘coup’ was relatively bloodless – and more to do with the fact that, once a case could be made to dispose Richard, a Lancastrian succession was legally appropriate.
That said, there were those in the reign of Henry IV who always believed the Mortimer claim to be superior – although usually because they had something to gain from thinking like that. I accept this is not a closed conversation.
But what you can’t do, is start applying attitude changes retrospectively. By the 1460s, people were more open to female succession in the 1460s. To an extent, even Lancastrians had to be. Henry VI’s unimpressive efforts in reproduction were leaving Margaret Beaufort as one of the talked about candidates for the crown. But you can’t wind the clock back and uproot a dynasty and this is why no one took York’s claims particularly seriously until he made them good on the battle field. When changes in attitude take place and the rules of succession evolve, it is generally accepted that these apply only to future generations.
I’ve had blogged previously about why Edward IV must be deemed a usurper; this post reinforces my views. The House of York did not have a superior claim to the throne than Lancaster; instead they did what other usurping dynasties before them had done – they allowed might to make right and came up with a justification to rubber stamp it. Lancaster had done the same in 1399 by attempting to claim senior descendants from Henry III. It just so happens that York’s claims had a little more credibility to back up their military antics.
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People have been asking me recently what I think about historical fiction. I assume what they mean by that is ‘how much does it matter whether fiction based on history actually follows the facts.’
And my answer? Not much. Personally, I much prefer fiction that sticks as closely to the available facts as possible while adding some snap, crackle and pop where it’s needed. Philippa Gregory and last year’s ‘Victoria’ series just about got it right for me. But ultimately if something is labelled fiction than that’s exactly how it should be treated. Readers and watchers should not assume they are getting the factual truth and if they do, that is not the fault of novelists or TV producers.
But there is a genre of history that worries me much more. The 1 hour documentary. I understand – and accept – that things need to be simplified for TV. I recognise that there has to be different entry points for varying levels of knowledge and interest and many of my curiosities were sparked through this very medium. However, I am getting a little fed up with the huge oversimplifications that have been transmitted through our TV screens in the last year or so which make a big impact on popular understandings of the historic debate.
Lucy Worsley’s ‘History’s Biggest Fibs’ got me a bit riled on Thursday night. While I did really enjoy much of it, the assertion that the ‘Wars of the Roses’ was a Tudor myth and that Richard III’s name was blackened by his successors, drove me crazy.
I’ve blogged previously about the Wars of the Roses, but can I please just but in a plea for sanity when it comes to the accusation that the Tudors led some kind of deliberate propaganda campaign to tarnish the previously saintly reputation of the last Plantagenet King.
Of course Tudor writers would have been mindful of the need to please the new dynasty and this would have been reflected in their writing. As Worsley notes, John Rouse’s work is a perfect example of this – he was complimentary about Richard in his life time but negative about him once Henry Tudor came to power.
However we now know that things once believed to be a Tudor invention have turned out to be true. Richard’s curved spine, so often dismissed as Tudor spin has been established as fact.
The account of Dominic Mancini – dated 1483, two years before the Tudors took over – makes it clear that people strongly suspected Richard in his own lifetime of usurping the throne and doing away with the Princes.
Of course Richard’s reputation suffered under his successors. Things rooted in truth were exaggerated and he was not treated with a sense of balance and objectivity. But the beginnings of his huge unpopularity and the link to the crimes many hold him responsible for, can clearly be found in his own reign and lifetime.
One of the world’s most popular historians – Alison Weir – has just announced plans for a new series of four books examining the lives of England’s medieval Queens from 1066 to 1485. Earlier today, the following announcement appeared on her website:
“I am delighted to announce a new series of four non-fiction books on England’s Medieval Queens. It will tell the story of England’s queens from the Norman Conquest of 1066 to the Battle of Bosworth in 1485. The five Norman queens feature in Queens of the Conquest, the first book in the series, which will be published on 26 September in the USA and on 28 September in the UK. More details to come!”
How do we at Royal History Geeks feel about this? Do you really need to ask…?
I am of course, beyond excited. If you’ve read a few posts, you’ll be aware that Alison Weir is this site’s preferred historian, possessing a rare ability to combine robust research skills with buckets of intelligent empathy and understanding of human nature.
But it’s also more than that.
Like many history fans, my interest began with the Tudors. As I progressed my understanding of the period I realised that I needed to better understand the era before that and then the era before that…and so it continued. The War of the Roses is now clearer to me, I’ve just about got my head around the Plantagenets. But the Normans – the subject of the debut book in the series – remain a bit of a mystery – a piece of time currently fogged in my mind. Weir’s appealing style should do just the trick in shedding extra light. Studying it all from the perspective of prominent women will also add a fresh perspective.
We have to wait until September until the first offering emerges; but rest assured geeks – when the time comes the first book shall be quickly read and reviewed.
Elizabeth II has become legendary across the globe as a dignified but silent figure who sees all but comments little. However, according to comments in a recent minister’s memoirs she may be more involved in the running of Government than many people realise.
The Queen is a figure head. She leads the nation through her example, her conviction and her remoteness from politics. She is a towering ambassador for the UK – and her other realms and territories – and brings substantial revenue into businesses, households and the treasury coffers. But when it comes to the political operating of the country, technically running in her name, she is entirely uninvolved.
Or is she?
Recently I have been pouring through the incredibly compelling memoirs of Ken Clarke, the veteran Conservative minister who served the Heath, Thatcher, Major and Cameron administrations. It’s full of twists and turns and no pages are more exciting than those focused on the political upheaval that plagued the Major government over the European Union and the Maastricht treaty (USA and younger readers – don’t worry – you won’t need to know anything about these issues to follow the rest of the post).
According to Clarke, when Prime Minister John Major was aware that his personally negotiated treaty might not obtain a parliamentary majority he pondered resigning (this is well attested to elsewhere). However, according to a conversation that Ken had with John Patten (a fellow government minister), the Prime Minister had been spoken to Robert Fellowes, the then private secretary to the Queen who had ‘hinted’ that if Her Majesty were asked for a dissolution of Parliament – and therefore a general election – she would refuse. Apparently she had not admired the way that former PM Ted Heath had ‘taken it to the Country’ when he failed to settle an industrial dispute. She did not want a repeat performance.
For obvious reasons, this account can’t just be taken as read. It relies on John Patten having heard if accurately from either Major or someone close to him, Major having correctly understanding what Fellowes was ‘hinting’ at and Fellowes himself having rightly understood the Queen’s actual sentiments. But with those caveats in mind, the story does have a ring of credibility to it. The casual way that Clarke mentions it – almost in passing and to illustrate a bigger point – suggests that people close to power found it credible and perhaps, that such interventions from the Palace were not wholly exceptional.
Today, because of the ‘fixed-terms Parliament Act’, the Queen has a much reduced role in the dissolution of Parliament and the calling of General Elections. But prior to 2010 a Prime Minister would effectively determine the timetable by asking the Queen to grant a dissolution, which would in turn lead to a General Election. No Parliament was allowed to sit for more than 5 years, but if a Prime Minister thought things were going well, they generally liked to ‘go to the country’ after 4.
No doubt some will harp on about the Queen’s active involvement in so recent a political event, claiming it is undemocratic and an example of why the monarchy must go. But I see it very differently. In the situation in question, the country had only just had an election. Was anyone really in the mood for another one? More importantly, ensuring that the elected Government don’t try and use the polls as a political tactic to solve disputes that they themselves are supposed to handle is, in and of itself, a safeguarding of democracy.
Every head of state – elected or otherwise – is meant to enforce the constitution and hold the Government to account for it. Clearly in the UK’s uncodified system that can be tricky at times. I wonder if those of us fortunate enough to dwell on these isles realise how lucky we are that these judgements fall into the hands of a canny, wise and experienced stateswoman who has no agenda save her devotion to duty.