Who was the last Groom of the Stool?

History Extra

In English royalty, the Groom of the Stool was originally a servant who assisted the king with bodily functions and washing. The stool in question was a ‘close stool’ – a fixed or portable commode – and help was needed with the putting on and taking off of elaborate and expensive clothing.

 Under the Tudors, Grooms of the Stool were important functionaries because of this intimate access. All of Henry VIII’s grooms were knights. Sir Henry Norris, for instance, was closely aligned to Anne Boleyn’s faction and was executed at the time of her downfall; Sir Anthony Denny controlled Henry’s signature stamp and helped draw up the latter’s will.

 Queens had their own intimate ladies, and the office lapsed under Mary and Elizabeth I. So the last Groom of the Stool in the strict sense was possibly Sir Michael Stanhope, who served Edward VI. He was hanged for ‘felony’ before Edward’s death, but it’s not clear if his role was then taken by anyone else.

 Under the Stuarts, the office morphed into ‘Groom of the Stole’, with its implications of dressing the monarch rather than helping him visit the privy. Depending on the individual monarch, the role would also have devolved onto offices like Groom or Lord of the Bedchamber. The last person to hold the title of Groom of the Stole was James Hamilton, 2nd Duke of Abercorn (1838–1913) who served the Prince of Wales, but the job did not continue when the latter became King Edward VII.

Answered by: Eugene Byrne, author and journalist

Queen Victoria's 50 inch drawers... and other items from the royal wardrobe with Lucy Worsley

History Extra

Lucy Worsley with George III's waistcoat. (BBC Silver River)

Clothes for a ‘mad’ king, George III Among the most poignant surviving garments in Historic Royal Palaces’ bizarre and brilliant Royal Ceremonial Dress Collection are some of the clothes made for George III (1738–1820) to wear during his episode of so-called ‘madness’.

 Today, some people believe that it was bipolar disorder; others that it was the painful physical illness porphyria. Either way, there were long periods when the king was unable to look after himself. He was fed from a jug with a spout, and helped into his clothes by his valet.

 The ‘mad’ king’s shirts have extra-wide shoulders so that servants could lift them over his head, and the waistcoat that I’m pictured with above has sleeves enlarged so that his arms could be poked in more easily. The waistcoat also bears orange-coloured stains of food, drink or dribble. When this particular item was sent by a palace servant to the souvenir-hunter who asked for it, it was accompanied by apologies. It was the only item available, the servant said – the rest of the king’s clothes were just too soiled.

 George’s periods of absence from politics, through illness, caused dismay and confusion, especially when his son the Prince Regent tried to make political capital out of them. But the sheer length of his reign brought stability, and there’s no doubt that George III was a conscientious and well-intentioned king.

 Pants belonging to a queen who ate “a little too much”
 Queen Victoria (1819–1901) was a wand of a girl when she came to the throne at 18, with a waist measuring 22 inches. Yet she always struggled with her appetite and, as the capacious drawers pictured below show, this was to catch up with her in later life.

 “She is incredibly precocious for her age and very comical,” said her grandmother. “I have never seen a more alert and forthcoming child.” However Victoria was also described as a “little princess [who] eats a little too much and almost always a little too fast”.

 In 1861 came the great catastrophe of her life, the death of her husband, Albert. With this, Victoria lost the only person who’d been able to call her ‘Victoria’ instead of ‘Your Majesty’, and – crucially – the only person who could tell her ‘no’.

 During the following decades, Victoria became what we would today 
call clinically depressed. She lost interest in life, became reclusive, and comforted herself with food. She 
was either indulged by her doctors (frightened of her, like everyone else) or else bullied by the politicians who wanted her to get on with being queen again.

 As a widow, Victoria refused to wear any colour other than black for her bodices and skirts. These were offset only by a white widow’s cap, and white underwear threaded with black ribbons. A pair of her drawers, kept at Kensington Palace, has a waist measurement even more impressive than George IV’s, considering their relative height: 50 inches!

Queen Victoria's chemise and split drawers, which measured an ''impressive'' 50 inches. (Historic Royal Palaces)

 The enormous breeches of George IV Henry VIII was, notoriously, 54 inches around the waist later on in life, and George IV (1762–1830) equalled his record. George IV’s greatest problem seems to have been mental: he lacked the toughness to stand up to a life lived in public. He wasn’t untalented – he had terrific visual flair, and his wife said he would have made a great hairdresser. It was just a shame he had to be king.

 As well as over-eating, George IV became an alcoholic, and an addict of opium in the form of laudanum. The Duke of Wellington described a tremendous meal eaten later on in the king’s life: “What do you think of his breakfast yesterday? A Pidgeon and Beef Steak Pye of which he ate two Pigeons and three Beefsteaks, Three parts of a bottle of Mozelle, a Glass of Dry Champagne, two Glasses of Port [and] a Glass of Brandy.”

 The failure of George’s breeches to fasten formed a key part of his image in the cutting caricatures produced by Cruikshank and others, which caused lasting damage to his reputation. George tried to reduce his stomach with what was called his ‘belt’, a kind of simple corset. A paper pattern for the original still survives at the Museum of London, and from it, a replica has been made for Brighton’s Royal Pavilion.

 When George was due to be painted by Sir David Wilkie, the portraitist was kept waiting for some hours while the king’s servants trussed him into his undergarments. When the king finally appeared, Wilkie said he looked like “a great sausage stuffed into the covering”.

 George IV’s declining health made him increasingly reclusive. On the one hand, his failure to act on the terrible social problems caused by the industrial revolution brought him vilification. On the other, his relative invisibility meant that no one actually took the trouble to bring him down: unlike the French monarchy, the British one survived intact.

 The future Edward VIII’s flashy safari suit
George V, a monarch devoted to decorum and duty, was a stickler for correct dress. From early on, the flair for fashion exhibited by his eldest son, the future Edward VIII (1894–1972), caused trouble between them, and it presaged disaster of a far more serious sort.

 George V disliked Edward’s turned-up trousers, and his loud, hounds-tooth tweeds. He thought it regrettable that Edward would come to tea in his riding clothes, and fail to wear gloves at a ball. The safari suit is a typical outfit of Edward’s. Self-designed, it has adjustable arms and legs that could be altered for whichever leisure pursuit he wished to follow on any particular day of a holiday in exotic Africa.

 Edward’s youthful, bareheaded style found him fame and popularity with young people all over the world. But there was something solid in George V’s misgivings. Edward’s flashy, informal clothes hinted that he wasn’t looking forward to wearing a crown, and in 1936, he finally refused to do so when he abdicated from the throne.

Left image: The future Edward VIII's safari suit, with arms and legs that could be altered for different leisure pursuits. (BBC Silver River) Right image: Edward sporting a casual tweed suit, which was guaranteed to raise his father's ire, c1920. (Mary Evans)

 William III’s vest and socks With his small stature and twisted spine, William III and II (1650–1702) wasn’t a king in the charismatic, physically impressive mould of Henry VIII. He rebuilt the countryside palace at Hampton Court partly because of his asthma: he needed fresh air because he couldn’t breathe in the damp, smoky, urban palace of Whitehall. This is all evident from his underwear, which looks like it was intended for a 12-year-old. These are tiny clothes for a tiny king, including green royal socks with clocks topped by a little crown.

 William had deposed his father-in-law, James II and VII, to become joint ruler with his wife (and James’s daughter) Mary II. And in fact he was the ideal king to make a complicated, ambivalent and lashed-up succession work. William compensated for his physical weakness through political nous and the pragmatism that he’d developed during earlier years as a leader of the various, and sometimes unruly, states of the Netherlands.

 With his hooked nose and opaque personality, William’s new British subjects found him distinctly unregal: hard to read, as well as physically puny. But today his achievements in seizing a throne with little bloodshed and achieving stability make him appear an exceptionally able king.

 Lucy Worsley is a writer, presenter and chief curator of the Historic Royal Palaces.

Tudor tunes: music at the courts of Henry VIII, Elizabeth I and James VI and I

History Extra

Queen Elizabeth I dancing with Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Artist unknown. (© Lebrecht Music and Arts Photo Library/Alamy)

Music was an important facet of elite 16th-century culture. It played a part in every aspect of court life: processions, coronations, funerals, baptisms, fanfares announcing the monarch’s approach, music in the privy chamber, and music for the pageants and masques that entertained the court. It was also an integral part of religious worship.

 Music was provided both by professional musicians and by the courtiers themselves. Playing, singing and dancing were all essential elements of royal and noble education. Castiglione [an Italian courtier, diplomat and author], in his influential 1528 work The Book of the Courtier, laid great emphasis on the courtier’s need to have an appreciation of music and to play well as an amateur.

 Professional court musicians, meanwhile, had their own hierarchy – those who played ‘loud’ instruments – for example, trumpets and cornets – were less valued than those who played ‘soft’ instruments, such as stringed instruments and keyboards. These ‘soft’ players were the private entertainers of the monarch, and would form part of his privy chamber. They were often rewarded with extravagant tips, and even personal praise from the king or queen.

 All of the Tudor and Stewart monarchs were musical, and took a personal interest in the professional performers at their courts. Some of these court musicians were also well known writers and performers. Henry VII's most important musician was Robert Fayrfax (c1460–1521), organist of St Alban’s Abbey and first doctor of music at Cambridge. Fayrfax continued to serve Henry VIII, one of his last commissions being music for the meeting between the monarch and the French king Francois at the Field of Cloth of Gold in 1520.

 Another well-known composer of Henry VII’s reign, who was also commissioned by Henry’s wife, Elizabeth of York, was William Cornysh. In Scotland, meanwhile, Robert Carver provided music for the court of James IV and also for the coronation of James V, and in Elizabeth’s reign two of the most famous English composers of all time, Thomas Tallis and William Byrd, reached the heights of their genius.

 Tutoring
Among the duties of court musicians was the tutoring of royal children, who all learned to play at least one instrument. In 1502, Elizabeth of York paid £4 for a pair of clavichords [a stringed keyboard instrument] for herself, while her husband, Henry VII, bought lutes [a stringed instrument] for their daughters, Margaret and Mary, who also played the clavichord. Mary was sufficiently proficient on it to entertain Philip, Duke of Burgundy, at Windsor when she was just 11 years old, while Margaret’s skill with the lute came in handy when she met James IV of Scotland, whom she later married: the 30-year-old king put the 13-year-old princess at ease by playing and singing with her. Their son, James V, was equally fond of the pastime, but although he was a talented sight-reader, his singing voice was described as “rasky and harske” – that is, raucous and harsh-sounding.

 Henry VIII
Of his musical family, Henry VIII was probably the most gifted. He played numerous instruments: the lute, the organ and other keyboards; recorders, the flute and the harp, and he had a good singing voice. Henry wrote a number of compositions, the most famous probably ‘Pastime with Good Company’, although, disappointingly, probably not ‘Greensleeves’ which is later in date.

Pastime with Good Company. Musical score for a three-part madrigal alleged to have been written by Henry VIII. Archived at the British Museum. (Photo by Culture Club/Getty Images)

 All his life Henry patronised musicians, with at least 60 on his staff at the end of his reign, not including his gentlemen and children of the Chapel Royal. Ambassadors frequently commented on the beautiful music at Henry’s court, making unfavourable comparisons with that of King Francois, whose chief singing master was often drunk!

 Henry didn’t just play several instruments, he also owned an enormous collection of them. His throng included cornets, bagpipes (called drones), viols, lutes, flutes, shawms [a double-reed woodwind instrument] and more than 150 recorders. Henry even owned an early type of pianola in the form of a set of virginals that “goeth with a wheel without being played upon.”

 Music was a pleasure that Henry shared with some of his wives. He and Catherine of Aragon particularly favoured a friar by the name of Dionysius Memmo, who had been the organist at St Mark’s in Venice and brought his “excellent instrument” to England at great expense. Henry was so delighted with Memmo that he requested the Pope release the friar from his order so he could join the king’s Chapel Royal.

 Henry and Catharine’s daughter, Mary, was equally mesmerised by Memmo – her first recorded words when she was about two years old were “Priest! Music! Music!,” repeated until Henry commanded him to play. Mary grew up playing the regals and virginals [both keyboard instruments] and became a proficient lutenist; she was described in 1553 as “surprising even the best performers, both by the rapidity of her hand and the style of her playing”.

 Mary was taught by Philip van Wilder, one of Henry’s chief musicians, who played to the king in his privy chamber. Van Wilder went on to teach Henry’s son, Edward VI, to be “excellent in striking the lute” and led a choir at Edward’s coronation. He is said to have been paid a substantial sum of money for taking care of the young king’s lute cases. Edward’s musicians included 18 trumpeters, seven viol players, four sackbuts players, a harpist, a bagpiper, a drummer, eight minstrels and a rebec player [a type of fiddle, with a bow] and eight minstrels.

 Elizabeth I
The virginals seem to have been the instrument of choice for Elizabeth I, who spent regular hours practising. One of Elizabeth’s instruments, dated from a tiny inscription to 1594, is now housed in the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. Elizabeth rather piqued herself on her skill, and, when informed by the Scottish ambassador, Sir James Melville, that Mary, Queen of Scots played both lute and virginals, Elizabeth was eager to know if she had a rival. She asked how well Mary played, and received the reply “reasonably, for a queen”.

 Later that day, Melville was asked by the queen’s cousin, Lord Hunsdon, to listen to music with him. Hunsdon took him to a gallery where Melville heard music that “ravished him” – it turned out to be Elizabeth playing. She coyly told Melville that she had not been expecting him, and did not play in front of gentlemen; but, since he had heard her, perhaps he could tell her whether her playing, or that of the Queen of Scots, was better? Melville was obliged to answer that Elizabeth was the superior performer.

 Elizabeth also appreciated the performance of others. Before Lord Darnley went to the Scottish court to woo Mary, he often attended upon Elizabeth. He would play the lute for her “wherein it should seem she taketh pleasure, as indeed, he plays very well.”

 Anne Boleyn
Elizabeth may have inherited her talent as much from her mother, Anne Boleyn, as from her father. According to Anne’s biographer Eric Ives, Henry VIII’s second wife may have been taught by Henri Bredemers, organist to the Archduchess Marguerite [or Margaret] of Austria. Bredemers was music tutor to the archduchess’s nephew, Charles V, and his sisters, one of whom, Eleanor – later queen of France – was noted as particularly skilled. Whoever Anne learnt from, she was described as “[knowing] perfectly how to sing and dance…to play the lute and other instruments”.

 One of Henry’s objections to his fourth wife, Anne of Cleves, was that she had no musical abilities. Apparently in Germany, unlike most of Europe, it was not considered proper for great ladies to have any knowledge of music. With music being so central to Henry’s life, for him this was completely unacceptable.

 Fortunately, it was a taste Henry could share with his sixth wife, Katherine Parr. They jointly patronised a family of Italian musicians, the Bassanos, who continued as court performers into the 17th century.

 Worship
Music was a vital component of worship before the Reformation. To have an accomplished chapel of singers was an important mark of status, and the finding of suitable men and boys was something that occupied the minds of the highest. There is correspondence relating to the friendly rivalry between Cardinal Wolsey and Henry VIII regarding the singers in their chapels: both men sought to recruit talented choristers, and even arranged a competition to see whose choir was the better. Henry gave the victory to Wolsey’s men, so, tactfully, Wolsey released to Henry’s service a boy with an especially “crafty descant”.

c1550, Tudor musicians in church. (Photo by Rischgitz/Getty Images)

 Another young musician who began his career in Wolsey’s chapel was Mark Smeaton. Smeaton played the lute, the virginals and the regals, and was an accomplished singer and dancer. Henry was so pleased with Smeaton that he was given a position as a musician in the privy chamber. He was thus often in the company of Anne Boleyn, and this proximity of the queen to a low-born man (Smeaton was the son of a carpenter) was used to blacken the queen’s name. Smeaton confessed to adultery with her – a charge she strenuously denied.

 Another queen whose downfall was her music master was Henry VIII’s fifth wife, Catherine Howard. When she was no more than 12 or 13, Henry Manox, her teacher was caught kissing and fondling her. Later, when she was Queen, the incident was used as evidence in the charges of adultery for which Queen Katherine was executed.

 The procuring of musicians for each other, and the sending of minstrels to entertain friends and family, was a way of demonstrating affection. Katherine Parr, who kept musicians, including a consort of viols, sent a musician to her stepdaughter, Lady Mary, with the words “[he] will be…most acceptable, from his skill in music, in which you, I am well aware, take as much delight as myself.” In 1561, Edward, Earl of Hertford, found a flautist for Elizabeth I in France after her previous player died.

 Dancing
Both Mary I and Elizabeth I were fond of dancing. A rather priggish nine-year-old Edward VI sent a message to his stepmother, Katherine Parr, asking her to “beseech” his “dear sister, Mary…to attend no longer to foreign dances and merriments, which do not become a most Christian princess”. This reflected the rather more censorious view of music being taken by the radical religious reformers. Lady Jane Grey’s tutor, John Aylmer, requested the Swiss reformer, Bullinger, to prescribe a suitable length of time for Jane to spend on music, for “in this respect, people in this country (England) err beyond measure”.

 For all Edward’s personal fondness for music, this increasing puritanism meant that it was no longer considered so appropriate for religious ceremonies, and the 1552 Prayer Book significantly reduced the amount of music in the service. Music returned to the church under Mary, and this was one of the Catholic practices that Elizabeth was happy to retain. While the English church thus kept much of the choral music of earlier days, the more stringent reform in Scotland swept away the vast majority of pre-Reformation sacred music.

 Well into her sixties, Elizabeth could still dance the energetic galliards she had excelled at in her youth, and rebuked any of her ladies-in-waiting who did not dance to her satisfaction while she tapped out the rhythm with her foot. Elizabeth’s love of music was so well known that on her deathbed her anxious councillors summoned her musicians, perhaps to rouse her from the stupor into which she had fallen, or perhaps to comfort her.

 The Scottish court
Music was just as important at the Scottish court as at the English. While there were bagpipes at the English court, there is no mention of them at James V’s court, but there were trumpeters, whistlers and drummers, clad in the red and yellow livery of the king. These ‘loud’ musicians were used in war and for ceremonial purposes, such as greeting James V’s two queens, Madeleine and Marie, on their arrival in Scotland in 1537 and 1538 respectively. The Scottish monarchs also enjoyed hearing and playing ‘soft’ music: James V and Marie of Guise each had a ‘consort’ of Italian viols. James V’s own principal instrument seems to have been the lute, for which his yeoman frequently bought new strings. European influences, particularly Flemish and French, were strong at the Scottish court, which also had its own Italian family of musicians – although they took the Scottish name Drummond.

 Following the deposition of Mary, Queen of Scots in 1567, music was less central to the Scottish court. Her son, James VI, was described in 1584 as “[hating] dancing and music in general…”. This changed as he matured, however, and, influenced by his wife, Anne of Denmark, the court he presided over – first in Scotland and later in England – was as sophisticated in its musical tastes as any in Europe.

 Melita Thomas is the editor of Tudor Times. To find out more, visit www.tudortimes.co.uk

Fit for a queen: 3 medieval recipes enjoyed at English and Scottish royal courts

History Extra

15th-century banquet. © The Art Archive / Alamy

Rys Lumbard Stondyne

Period: England, 14th century
Description: Sweet Rice and Egg Pudding
Original recipe
And for to make rys lumbard stondyne, take raw yolkes of
eyren, and bete hom, and put hom to the rys beforesaid, and
qwen hit is sothen take hit off the fyre, and make thenne a
dragée of the yolkes of harde eyren broken, and sugre and
gynger mynced, and clowes, and maces; and qwen hit is put
in dyshes, strawe the dragée theron, and serve hit forth.
Modern recipe
• 1 cup rice
• 2 cups beef, chicken,
or other broth
• 4 raw egg yolks
• 2 tsp sugar, or to taste
• 1/8 tsp saffron
• Salt to taste
Dragées
• 2 hard-boiled egg yolks
• 1 tsp sugar, or to taste
• 1 tsp grated fresh ginger
• 1/8 tsp each cloves and mace
1) In a heavy saucepan or pot combine rice, broth and salt. Over medium heat, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer, covered, for about 15 minutes, or until all liquid has been absorbed.
2) When rice is done, stir in raw egg yolks, sugar and saffron, and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture gets very thick. Dish into a lightly oiled mould or bowl, cool, and turn out for serving.
3) To make the dragées, in a bowl combine hard-boiled egg yolks, grated fresh ginger, sugar and spices, and blend into a paste. Roll this paste into little balls about half an inch across, and decorate the moulded Rys Lumbard with them.

 

Great Pie

Ingredients
• 1 kg mixed game (venison, pheasant, rabbit and boar)
• 2 large onions, peeled and diced
• 1 garlic clove
• 120 grams of brown mushrooms, sliced
• 120 grams smoked back bacon, diced
• 25 grams plain flour
• Juice and zest of 1 orange
• 300 ml chicken stock
• 70 ml of Merlot wine
• Salt and pepper
Modern recipe (serves eight to 12)
1) Preheat oven to 180°C.
2) In a frying pan, brown the game.
3) Soften the onions and then add the garlic, mushrooms and bacon and fry for a few minutes. Add the stock and orange juice and zest. Raise it to a boil then simmer for an hour until the meat is tender.
4) Let the mixture cool and add it to your short crust pastry case. Add a pastry lid and press it onto the lip of the base then trim it. Cut a steam hole or two and brush with a beaten egg all over.
5) Put the pie in the oven and bake for one hour. Cool before serving.

_{An early 14th-century royal meal; illustration from Dresses and Decorations of the Middle Ages from the Seventh to the Seventeenth Centuries by Henry Shaw, (London, 1843). (Photo by The Print Collector/Print Collector/Getty Images)}

Malaches of Pork

Period: England, 14th century
Description: Pork Quiche
Original recipe
Hewe pork al to pecys and medle it with ayren & chese
igrated. Do therto powdour fort, safroun & pynes with salt.
Make a crust in a trap; bake it wel therinne, and serue it forth.
Modern recipe (Serves eight to 12)
• Pastry dough for 1 nine-inch pie crust
• 1 pound lean pork, cubed
• 4 eggs
• 1 cup grated, hard cheese
• 1/4 cup pine nuts
• 1/4 tsp salt
• Pinch of each, cloves, mace, black pepper
1) Preheat oven to 230°C.
2) Line a nine-inch pie pan with the pastry dough, and bake it for five to 10 minutes to harden it. Remove it, and reduce oven temperature to 175°C.
3) In a frying pan, over medium heat, brown the cubed pork until it is tender.
4) In a bowl, beat the eggs and spices together.

5) Line the bottom of the pie crust with the browned pork, grated cheese, and pine nuts. Pour the egg and spice mixture over them.
6) Put the pie in the oven and bake for 45 minutes, or until a toothpick draws out clean. Cool before serving

Q&A: Is it true that the Saxons didn't have queens?

History Extra

A statue assumed to be of Anglo-Saxon king Otto I with his wife, Ædgyth, who was anointed queen. (AKG)

Asser tells us that Eadburh so tyrannised her husband, King Beorhtric of the West Saxons, (whom she eventually poisoned) that she was forced into exile at the court of Charlemagne, king of the Franks.

 

The story is a myth intended to denigrate the memory of King Offa and Charlemagne. The poisoning of Beorhtric supplied a convenient explanation for the usurpation of the throne of Wessex in AD 802 by King Alfred’s grandfather Egbert of Kent.

 

This wasn’t the last time that Alfred’s family used the supposed queenlessness of the West Saxons as a political tool. Alfred’s father remarried, and since this new wife, Judith, demanded recognition as ‘queen’, Alfred and his brothers used queenlessness to guard against any claim by Judith’s children to succeed as king. 

 

Later, it became customary for West Saxon royal brides to be both designated and publicly anointed as queens. What was not allowed was for a woman, either a wife or a daughter, to claim the throne in her own right.

 

It was not until the time of Matilda, the daughter of the Norman king Henry I of England, that this was first tried, and it was an attempt that led to civil war. By this time, the kingdom of Wessex was part of England.

 

Only in the 16th century was English custom set aside so that, as a means of preserving the dynasty of Henry VIII, first Mary and then Elizabeth Tudor were crowned as ruling queens. 

 

Answered by Professor Nicholas Vincent, from the University of East Anglia.

10 medieval dates you need to know

History Extra

Detail from the Bayeux tapestry, which depicts the Norman conquest of England in 1066. (DeAgostini/Getty Images)

1066: The battle of Hastings and the Norman conquest 

 

The Norman conquest of 1066 marked a dramatic and irreversible turning point in English history. Events began with the battle of Hastings, in which the Anglo-Saxon king Harold II attempted to defend his realm from the Norman invasion forces of William, Duke of Normandy (later known as William the Conqueror). 

 

Harold’s English troops numbered around 5,000, compared to a well-equipped Norman force of 15,000 infantry, archers and cavalry. Although the English had some initial success using shield-wall tactics, they proved no match for William, who was a formidable warlord. English defences were eventually broken down and King Harold was killed. His crushing defeat and gory death on the battlefield is famously recorded in the Bayeux tapestry, which was completed in the 1070s. 

 

Following William’s success at the battle of Hastings – dubbed by Andrew Gimson the “most durable victory of any monarch in English history”– William the Conqueror set about transforming the face of Anglo-Saxon England. He skillfully secured his hold on the lands he had invaded, replacing the English ruling class with Norman counterparts and building defensive fortresses at strategic points throughout the kingdom. 

 

Under William the feudal system was introduced [a hierarchical system in which people held lands in return for providing loyalty or services to a lord] the church reorganised and England’s links to Europe strengthened. The legacy of 1066’s Norman conquest can still be seen today in Britain’s language, culture and social structure. 

 

^{A portrait of William the Conqueror from the 'Historia Anglorum, Chronica majora'. (Fine Art Images/Heritage Images/Getty Images)}

 

1085: The Domesday Book is completed

 

The Domesday Book is England’s earliest surviving public record, unsurpassed in depth and detail until the introduction of censuses in the 19th century. 

 

Towards the end of the 11th century England came under threat from Danish invaders. William the Conqueror (who had himself been an invader two decades earlier) realised the need to catalogue the country’s financial resources in order to assess how much taxation he could reap from the land to fund a potential war. He therefore commissioned a massive survey of England’s landholdings and financial assets. The monumental resulting document, the Domesday Book, extensively catalogues the kingdom’s taxable goods and records the identities of England’s landholders at the time.

 

The Domesday Book is significant because it provides a unique and remarkably rich historical source for medievalists. Its vast amount of information offers historians, geographers, linguists and even lawyers invaluable insights into the nature of England’s government, landscape and social structure at the time.

 

The book now survives in two volumes: Great Domesday and Little Domesday. 

 

1095: The First Crusade is decreed

 

Pope Urban II’s official call for “holy war” in 1095 heralded the beginning of centuries of religious conflict. The crusades were a significant and long-lasting movement that saw European Christian knights mount successive military campaigns in attempts to conquer the Holy Land. Religious conflict peaked during the 12th and 13th centuries and its impact can be traced throughout the Middle Ages. 

 

Muslims in the Holy Land were not the only target of the crusades. Crusade campaigns were directed against a variety of people viewed as enemies of Christendom. Military campaigns against the Moors in Spain and Mongols and pagan Slavs in Eastern Europe have now also been recognised by historians as part of the crusade movement. 

 

The crusades had a huge impact on medieval life in Britain. People from all walks of life were involved – everyone from peasant labourers to lords and kings took up the fight for Christendom. Richard the Lionheart (r1189–99) considered the quest to conquer the Holy Land to be so important that he was absent from England for many years of his reign, waging war in the Middle East. 

 

These intercontinental military expeditions also had a much wider impact on global relations. They led to an unprecedented interaction between east and west, which had an enduring influence on art, science, culture and trade. Meanwhile the shared fight for Christendom arguably also helped to foster ideological unity within Europe. In the words of historian Linda Paterson, the crusades “transformed the western world and left a profound legacy in inter-cultural and inter-faith relations nationally and worldwide”. 

 

^{A battle during the crusades. Miniature from the 'Historia' by William of Tyre, 1460s. (Fine Art Images/Heritage Images/Getty Images)}

 

1170: Thomas Becket is murdered 

 

Bloody proof of overflowing tensions in the ongoing power struggle between the medieval church and crown, the murder of Thomas Becket in 1170 has gone down in history for its shocking brutality. 

 

In 1155, after enjoying a successful career in the clergy, Becket (1120–70) became chancellor to King Henry II. Friendship and rapport developed between the two men and in 1161 Henry appointed Becket as archbishop of Canterbury.

 

However, following Becket’s appointment as archbishop, his harmonious relationship with the king was short-lived. Trouble began to emerge as it became clear that Becket would now fight for the interests of the church, often in opposition to the wishes of the crown.

 

Becket began to challenge the king over a wide range of issues and their turbulent disagreements lasted several years. Their relationship disintegrated to such an extent that between 1164 and 1170 Becket lived in France to avoid Henry’s wrath. He returned to Canterbury in 1170 but was soon in conflict with the king again, this time over the excommunication of high-ranking clerics. 

 

This dispute was the final straw for Henry. According to popular legend he lost his temper with the archbishop, asking “Who will rid me of this troublesome priest?” Believing this to mean that the king wished Becket dead, four knights travelled to Canterbury to seek out the archbishop. On 29 December 1170 they brutally murdered Becket in his own cathedral. 

 

In 1173, three years after his death, Becket was canonised. His murder transformed him into a martyr figure and his shrine at Canterbury Cathedral became a major European pilgrimage site. The priest’s murder was extremely damaging to Henry’s reputation and in 1174 Henry visited Becket’s tomb to pay penance for his actions. 

 

^{A late 12th-century illustration of the murder of Thomas Becket in 1170. (CM Dixon/Print Collector/Getty Images)}

 

1215: Magna Carta is signed 

 

Sealed by King John at Runnymede on 15 June 1215, Magna Carta (meaning ‘great charter’) has become one of the founding documents of the English legal system.

 

At the time of its creation, however, the document’s long-lasting significance was not immediately recognised. Following a period of political and military upheaval in England, John was reluctantly forced to sign Magna Carta as part of peace negotiations with rebel barons. Drafted as part of a peace treaty, the initial document contained specific grievances dealing expressly with King John’s rule. At the time the agreement had little impact, as King John swiftly backtracked on its promises, prompting civil war. 

 

Magna Carta’s real significance lay elsewhere. Buried within its many clauses were certain adaptable core values that ensured its influential legacy in English history. As the first document to establish that everyone, including monarchs, was subject to the law, Magna Carta laid the foundation for legally limiting the power of the sovereignty. Its 39th clause, meanwhile, ensured the right of all ‘free men’ to a fair trial. 

 

The fundamental principles laid down in these clauses proved central to the establishment of the English legal system. The original document was adapted several times in subsequent years and three of the clauses from the original Magna Carta still remain on the statute books today. These establish the liberties of the English Church (Clause 1), the privileges of the City of London (Clause 13) and the right to trial by jury (Clauses 39 & 40).

 

1314: The battle of Bannockburn

 

The battle of Bannockburn saw Scottish leader Robert the Bruce take on the English king Edward II in a pivotal conflict in Scotland’s fight for independence. 

 

In 1296 Anglo-Scottish tensions spilled over into open warfare when English forces under Edward I invaded Scotland. By 1314 the Scottish Wars of Independence had been raging for many years and Edward II’s hold over Scotland had begun to crumble. In an attempt to restore his grasp on the kingdom Edward II amassed a large body of troops to relieve Stirling Castle, which had been besieged by the forces of Robert the Bruce. However, Edward’s attempt to regain control backfired, as the Scots prepared to face the English forces head-on in what became the battle of Bannockburn.

 

The battle took place on 23 and 24 June 1314. Although the English force boasted greater numbers, the Scottish were well trained and well led, fighting on land they were motivated to defend. Their knowledge of the local land also worked in their favour, as they tactically targeted terrain that would be difficult for Edward’s heavy cavalry to operate on. English casualties were heavy and Edward was forced to retreat.

 

Bannockburn dealt a significant blow to English control over Scotland and Edward’s withdrawal left swathes of northern England vulnerable to Scottish raids and attacks. Robert the Bruce’s victory proved decisive for Scotland, solidifying the country’s independence and strengthening his grip over his kingdom. In 1324 Robert finally gained papal recognition as king of Scotland. 

 

1348: The Black Death comes to Britain

 

The summer of 1348 saw the first outbreak of the bubonic plague in England, leading to an epidemic of huge proportions. The disease is estimated to have killed between a third and a half of the population – a devastating and unprecedented death rate.

 

Known as the Black Death, the bubonic plague was caused by a bacterium now know as yersinia pestis. Without any knowledge of how it was transmitted the disease spread like wildfire, particularly in urban areas. The writer Boccaccio saw the plague ravage Florence in 1348 and described the symptoms in his book The Decameron: “The first signs of the plague were lumps in the groin or armpits. After this, livid black spots appeared on the arms and thighs and other parts of the body. Few recovered. Almost all died within three days, usually without any fever”.

 

The dramatic death toll had a significant impact on the social and economic landscape of Britain in the following decades. Writing for History Extra, Mark Ormrod has argued that in the long-run the epidemic led to a “real improvement in the quality of life” for medieval people. He suggests that “the drop in the population resulted in a redistribution of wealth – workers could demand higher wages, and tenant farmers could demand lower rents, giving the poor more expendable income”.

 

^{Death strangling a victim of the plague. From the 14th-century Stiny Codex.(Fine Art Images/Heritage Images/Getty Images)}

 

1381: The Peasants’ Revolt 

 

The first large-scale uprising in English history, the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381 threatened to overturn the existing social structure and undermine the country’s ruling elite. 

 

The revolt was prompted by the introduction of a third poll tax (raised to fund the war against France), which had a particularly damaging effect on the poor. Unrest began in Essex, spreading rapidly to East Anglia, St Albans, Bury St Edmunds and London. As events escalated, government ministers were attacked and their homes destroyed. The chaos reached a peak as rioters captured and executed the king’s treasurer and the archbishop of Canterbury.

 

Soon, the rioters’ demands extended far beyond abolishing the third poll tax. They called for the abolition of serfdom and outlawry, and the division of lordship among all men. They also railed against the corruption of the church, demanding that its wealth be distributed among the people. 

 

Faced with the threat of escalating violence in his capital city, the 14-year-old King Richard II met with one of the central figures of the revolt, Wat Tyler, to discuss the rioters’ grievances. However, violence broke out at the meeting and Tyler was murdered by William Walworth (Lord Mayor of London). Following Tyler’s death, government troops sought out and executed those who had rebelled, and resistance soon died out. 

 

^{A 15th-century image depicting the meeting between Wat Tyler and the revolutionary priest John Ball during the Peasants’ Revolt. (Prisma/UIG/Getty Images)}

 

1415: Henry V defeats the French at Agincourt

 

Soon after becoming king of England in 1413, the ambitious young Henry V turned his attention to expanding his realm. During his father’s reign he had pushed for an invasion of France, and as the country was undergoing a period of political turmoil under its elderly monarch, Charles VI, it was the perfect time to launch an assault on the vulnerable kingdom.

 

After landing in France on 13 August 1415 and besieging the town of Harfleur, Henry’s troops marched on Calais. The French army met them at Agincourt and Henry’s men found themselves outnumbered as a bloody battle ensued. Despite this the French death toll was significant and Henry claimed victory. 

 

Agincourt has gone down in history as a legendary victory for England and for Henry. However, historian Ralph Griffiths suggests that it was in fact a close-run and far from decisive battle. He argues that contemporaries exaggerated Henry’s achievements in France. 

 

However, patriotic Agincourt propaganda undoubtedly had sticking power in the Middle Ages. The defeat proved devastating to French morale, while Henry’s reputation on the continent was enhanced dramatically. Henry was welcomed back to Dover with triumph and the story of his illustrious victory at Agincourt was celebrated for centuries to come. 

 

^{A 15th-century image of the Battle of Agincourt. (DeAgostini/Getty Images)}

 

1485: Richard III is defeated at the battle of Bosworth

 

The last significant clash of the Wars of the Roses, the battle of Bosworth saw the Lancastrian Henry Tudor (the future Henry VII) defeat Richard III in a bloody fight for the English throne. 

 

Following Richard’s deposition of Edward V in 1483, Henry challenged the Yorkist king as a usurper. In August 1485 Henry launched an attack on Richard in an attempt to seize control of England. Richard’s army of 15,000 vastly outnumbered that of Henry, who had only 5,000 men. Confident of defeating his challenger, Richard was reportedly overjoyed at Henry’s arrival in England and even delayed facing his troops in order to celebrate with a feast day. 

 

However, once the battle began, Richard’s strong initial position was undermined by the desertion of his troops and the defection of Lord Stanley (who had previously fought on the Yorkist side and commanded significant troops). The Yorkist forces were defeated and Richard was killed on the battlefield.

 

The discovery of Richard’s skeleton in Leicester in 2012 has told us much about how the defeated king met his death. Writing for History Extra, Chris Skidmore states that “several gouge marks in the front of the skull seem to have been caused by a dagger, perhaps in a struggle. The two wounds that would have killed Richard include the back part of his skull being sheathed off; if this did not kill him, a sword blade thrust from the base of the skull straight through the brain certainly would have done the job”. 

 

As the last major conflict of the Wars of the Roses and one that heralded the end of the Plantagenet dynasty, the battle of Bosworth marked a significant turning point in British history. It signalled the end of the medieval era and beginning of the Tudor period. 

Mr. Chuckles popped by the Wizard's Cauldron where Terry Tyler discusses her new release, Kings and Queens

 

Terry says:
Kings and Queens is the 7th novel I have published on Amazon, and is my most ambitious work to date.  It tells the story of Harry Lanchester, a charismatic property developer, and six women with whom he becomes involved, over a period of 35 years.  It just happens to mirror the story of Henry VIII and his six wives, but you do not have to know anything about that period in history to enjoy it, as it is, essentially, a contemporary novel in the romantic suspense/drama genre.  

Read more at:
http://greenwizard62.blogspot.co.uk/2014/05/terry-kings-and-queens-tyler-returns.html