When Henry shifted from neutrality to opposing France in Brittany and Flanders, thereby reviving the Anglo-Burgundian-Breton axis against France, it was Charles VIII who supported Yorkist conspiracies to neutralise Henry and punish him for his ingratitude. In 1490–91, the French encouraged two failed plots to murder Henry VII, and then they became involved with a new Yorkist impostor, Perkin Warbeck, who appeared in Ireland in late 1491 masquerading as Richard, duke of York, Edward IV’s youngest son. Charles VIII’s support for the impostor was a factor in Henry’s 1492 war against France, and included in the treaty of Étaples was Charles’s promise not to support Henry’s rebels. After the peace was signed, Charles expelled Warbeck from France.

John M. Currin, “England’s International Relations 1485–1509: Continuities amidst Change” | Tudor England and Its Neighbours

“While Anne was in the Tower courageously facing her judges, Jane was staying with Sir Nicholas Carew in a house a few miles from London. She was one of the first to learn of the Queen's condemnation and sentence; Henry sent her childhood friend and protégé, Sir Francis Bryan, with the news shortly after he received it, and himself called upon her in the afternoon. The ten days that elapsed between her betrothal to the King and the marriage in Whitehall were spent by Jane at her family home. The legend that the wedding festivities took place in the great barn at Wulfhall, which stood close to the house, may have had its origin in celebration parties given in honour of the future queen by her parents, for we can imagine the excitement among the Wiltshire neighbours and the pride of the jubilant Seymours. We do not know what dazzling gifts of jewellery Henry may have given to his bride as a wedding present - surely they must have included the precious stones that we believe she so demurely rejected a few months back - but in the matter of property he was certainly not ungenerous. No fewer than one hundred and four manors dispersed throughout nineteen counties were transferred to Jane, with five castles and a number of chases and forests, including Cranborne Chase, then a vast area of open forest concealing tiny hamlets, and still one of England's most beautiful stretches of down and woodland. In London she was given Paris Garden, a somewhat unattractive piece of land on the south bank of the Thames that took its name from a previous owner, Robert de Paris, and when not used for bearbaiting was the favourite venue for women of easy virtue.”

— William Seymour, Ordeal by ambition: An English family in the shadow of the Tudors

Francis introduced his three sons to Henry outside Boulogne on 21 October [1532] as the man who had delivered the two eldest boys from the hands of the Emperor. To emphasise his apparent devotion to them, and to their father, the King of England kissed each of them on the mouth when he greeted them, a gesture of great paternal intimacy. On Tuesday 22 October Francis gave Henry a set of white velvet and satin robes, identical to a set made for himself. They then appeared at Mass dressed identically in these outfits, the symbolic significance of which presumably delighted Henry.

Tudor England and its Neighbours (Richardson, Glenn)

Ten black history events that should be taught to every pupil

Black History Month is a chance to introduce forgotten historical episodes into the curriculum, from the British black panthers to the Bristol bus boycott... 

Here are 10 examples of black history I was not taught in school: 

1. West Indian soldiers in the First World War —  The contributions of the 15,204 men who served in the British West Indies Regiment have largely been forgotten in the UK’s remembrance of the great war.

From the Bahamas to British Guiana, men across the West Indian colonies heeded the call for volunteers from the “mother country” in 1915 at their own expense and peril.

They weren’t allowed to fight alongside white soldiers and faced racism from their comrades and enemy soldiers alike... 

2. The Bristol bus boycott — A watershed moment in the UK’s civil rights struggle was a boycott of the Bristol bus network after 18-year-old Guy Bailey was turned away from a job interview at the state-owned Bristol Omnibus Company because he was black. The policy was an open secret at the company and was legal at the time.

Members of the black community, organised by Paul Stephenson, Roy Hackett and Bailey and supported by many of their white neighbours, led a boycott of the buses in protest in 1963... 

3. The Notting Hill carnival — the Notting Hill carnival is the largest street party in Europe...

It started with human rights activist Claudia Jones, who was born in Trinidad in 1915 and spent much of her life in New York until she was deported from the US for being a member of the Communist party. Given asylum in England, she threw herself into the anti-racist struggle.

In response to the Notting Hill riots of 1958 – Jones launched an indoor Caribbean carnival in St Pancras in 1959 to bring people together... taking to the streets in 1965. Five decades later, it is second only in size to Brazil’s Rio carnival.

4. John Blanke, the black trumpeter — The Tudor period was significant for black settlement in Britain.

Among the settlers was trumpeter John Blanke, a regular musician at the courts of both King Henry VII and Henry VIII, and the first black Briton for whom we have both their name and picture. He appears on horseback in the royal procession in a 60ft-long scroll commissioned by Henry VIII depicting the extravagant Westminster Tournament of 1511, which was held to celebrate the birth of a son.

He was paid 8d a day in wages, until he successfully petitioned the king to double this to 16d.

5. ‘Beachy Head woman’ — The remains of one of the earliest black Britons were uncovered in a village in East Sussex, where she is thought to have lived nearly 1,800 years ago in 245AD, the middle of the Roman period in Britain.

...the “Beachy Head woman”, is believed to be the first known person in Britain from sub-Saharan Africa - which was beyond the domain of the Roman empire.

6. ‘Ivory bangle lady’ —  One of the wealthiest inhabitants of fourth century Roman York was a middle-class woman of black African ancestry. The “ivory bangle lady” was discovered in 1901 inside a stone sarcophagus with grave goods including jewellery made of Yorkshire jet and African elephant ivory, a glass mirror and a blue glass jug.

Experts hailed her discovery as challenge to the assumption that Africans in Britain at the time were not wealthy and likely to have been slaves.

7. Britain’s black miners — The contributions of the many non-white workers who toiled in the UK’s coalmining industry have largely been forgotten.

Amid severe labour shortages in industry in the aftermath of the second world war, they came to Britain at the government’s invitation and filled vacancies in vital industries, including in coalmines, where they worked as coalface workers, chargehands, deputies and union representatives... 

8. The sacking of Benin — Benin City, originally called Edo, was once the capital of a pre-encounter African empire in what is now southern Nigeria. It was one of the oldest states in west Africa, dating back to the 11th century.

At the height of the scramble for Africa, the “Benin expedition” of 1897 led to British troops punitively sacking the ancient city after it defied the British empire by imposing customs duties. The city’s walls – at the time the world’s largest earthworks created in the pre-mechanised era and four times the length of the Great Wall of China – were razed. The city was burned to the ground and its treasures looted.

Much of Benin’s artworks and artefacts were taken to Britain where many were auctioned as war booty or gifted to museums across Europe.

Hundreds of the stolen artefacts still reside in museums, galleries, universities and private collections across the UK. The Benin bronzes, in particular, remain the subject of demands for repatriation.

9. The Haitian Revolution — The Haitian Revolution was one of the largest and most successful slave rebellions in history. Over 12 years of uprisings formerly enslaved Africans overcame colonial rule, ending slavery in France’s most profitable colony and establishing the first independent black republic in the Americas.

In the 18th century, the white population made up 40,000 of Saint-Domingue’s residents, while the slave population was close to half a million – outnumbering them 10 to one.

The enslaved began a violent rebellion against the white landowners in 1791, led by the Haitian-born former slave Toussaint L’Ouverture. In 1794, the French government officially freed all slaves in the colonies and made them full citizens.

When Napoleon came to power, he sent French troops to regain control of Saint-Domingue. L’Ouverture’s successor, Jean-Jacques Dessalines, eventually defeated the French and forced them out, establishing the independent nation of Haiti in 1804.

10. The British Black Panthers —  The story of the British Black Panthers has also largely been forgotten.

Inspired by the American Black Power movement, the BBP was founded by Obi Egbuna in Notting Hill, London, in 1968. Though not an official branch of the American organisation, the BBP adopted the symbols of military jackets, berets and raised fists... read full article HERE

( georgie henley, cis female, she/her, 25 ) ** ♔ announcing GEILLIS STUART,  the PRINCESS OF SCOTLAND ! in a recent portrait they seem to resemble GEORGIE HENLEY. it is a miracle that SHE survived the last five years, considering they are FIERY, STRONG-WILLED, and OPINIONATED. i hope the plague has not changed them. they are FOR working together with the other kingdoms

Hi everyone :) My name’s Sophie, I live in England, and I’m 25 years old

Here are a few of my favourite things: Breaking Bad, Better Call Saul, Doctor Who, Harry Potter, Elementary, finely-bound books, reading, cats, and vintage clothing

And here are a few things to note about my daughter, Geillis:

Geillis had a charmed childhood, running wild with her older brother, the soon-to-be King of Scotland, Alasdair, whom Geillis affectionately called “Alis”, and her friend, who would become her lady-in-waiting, the Lady Violet Muir of Clan Muir. She has fond girlhood memories of racing through the candlelit corridors of Edinburgh Castle, laughing as she was chased by her brother. It was a carefree time, the decades before the plague, and she remembers the dim, busy, clan meetings with nostalgia and fondness.

She was so proud and happy when her brother married Euphemia, and she and her sister-in-law have always had naught but love for one another. Geillis adores the daughters Euphemia bore, her nieces Alice and Agnes, and tries to be a good aunt to them when she can.

Shortly before the plague hit, her brother King Alasdair and Queen Euphemia lost their son, the would-be Prince Alexander. Geillis herself was not present when he passed, but she locked herself in her chambers for days and screamed and wept, and threw things at walls in a fit of rage that would not cease. The pain she felt at the loss of the future King, and of her own nephew, is still with her, but there was more tragedy yet to come.

When the plague hit Scotland, those carefree days of running through corridors and playing childish games on the highlands were long, long, gone. Scores of their people perished, food spoiled, and suffering ravaged the ancient land. Geillis was furious that England would not help their neighbour, and all she could do was carry on trying to be a symbol for the people. While her brother plotted ways to help the people, Geillis increased her charity work tenfold, giving alms outside the castle gates, and sharing what supplies she could with people who needed it. The royal family were lucky enough that the plague did not creep through their door, but, when it had finally passed, things had changed.

Now her brother had a mistress, and Geillis disapproved of this greatly, and still does. She has made no secret of the fact that she despises her brother’s relationship with his mistress. She is an outspoken and ardent supporter of Her Majesty Euphemia, and makes her feelings on the issue known at every available opportunity. She understands her brother’s suffering from the loss of his son, but believes that there is no excuse for infidelity.

She is strongly opinionated -- some would say too much so for a young woman -- and is prone to fits of temper, in which she shouts and spits and throws things. Her father used to call her a wildcat, after the feral animals that roam the Scottish Highlands. Her brother is proud of her wild ways, and Geillis has tried, since coming to France, to curb her true nature, for the sake of her country’s image.

Despite this, Geillis is incredibly religious, and takes her faith very seriously. She believed, without a doubt, that the plague was God’s judgement upon the entire world, and now it has passed, it is her brother’s moral duty to work to get Scotland back to its glory days. She is painfully aware of the losses her country suffered, and is determined to keep Scotland independent in these agreements, but is willing to work cordially with some of their close neighbours, to keep the peace.

Geillis has Scotland in her blood. She is wild, and always has been. She was raised to be a princess, and to find herself a good match in a man. But she could not be content with the bed and company of men. For as long as she could remember, she had preferred the company of her ladies-in-waiting, and other women. While this is not frowned upon publicly, Geillis herself knew that her duty was to marry and bear children, and this was not possible with the union between two women. Her feelings are a secret she has kept close to her heart.

My inspirations for Geillis are: Merida from Brave, Thirrin Lindenshield from The Cry of the Icemark by Stuart Hill, Geillis Duncan from Outlander, Anne Boleyn from The Tudors, Meg Tudor from The Spanish Princess, and historical research yet to be undertaken

Please feel free to reach out to me! I’ve got a lot of particulars to work out yet, and I’ll probably send in some WC’s soon. In the meantime, feel free to hit me up for plots, or just a chit chat! Super excited to write with everyone

 CATHERINE OF ARAGON AND MARGARET TUDOR

In June 1513, as soon as her husband set sail for the English port of Calais, from where he was finally to launch his campaign against the French, Catherine of Aragon was to rule in his place or, rather, in his name. Henry VIII had appointed Catherine queen regent, governor and captain general in his absence, little knowing the redoubtable Catherine would oversee the defeat of an enemy of perhaps greater danger to the English throne than was France. The threat came from Scotland, whose King James IV felt more loyalty to the “Auld Alliance” with France than he did to England —despite the fact James’ wife, Margaret Tudor, was Henry’s older sister. The French queen, Anne of Brittany, sent James IV her glove and turquoise ring and asked him to be her champion. The Scottish King decided to invade England. While Catherine remained childless, Margaret Tudor and her infant son James were first in line to the English throne. 

Whilst the army was gathering, the King and Queen of Scotland were at Linlithgow. A pregnant Margaret, apparently racked by nightmarish visions of her husband falling off a precipice or her losing an eye, was said to have begged him not to invade England. He supposedly treated her warning as the stuff of dreams. ‘It is no dream that ye are to fight a mighty people,’ she said, according to the story as it was told more than a century later. Margaret knew those people well, and many of her childhood friends were on the other side. ‘What a folly, what a blindness is it to make this war yours and to quench the fire in your neighbour’s house of France to kindle and burn up your own in Scotland,’ she warned.

Should the letters of the queen of France – a woman twice married (the first half in adultery, the last almost incest) whom ye did never nor shall ever see – prove more powerful with you than the cries of your little son and mine, than the tears, complaints [and] curses of the orphans and widows which ye are to make?

This version of the story, which may well be apocryphal, suggests that if the two sisters-in-law had been left to sort it out there might not have been any bloodshed. ‘If ye will go suffer me to accompany you,’ Margaret begged him.  

It may be my countrymen prove more kind towards me than they will to you, and for my sake yield unto peace. I hear the queen my sister [Catherine] will be with the army in her husband’s absence; if we shall meet, who knows what God by our means may bring to pass.

Catherine and Margaret never had the chance to talk sisterly peace in the dramatic fashion imagined later. Having parted from Margaret Tudor, James crossed the border into Northumberland on 24th August at the head of the greatest army ever gathered in Scotland. Early in September Catherine rode to north with a body of troops variously described as ‘a great power’ or a ‘numerous force’. If Surrey found the Scots too strong for him, he could fall back on this support. If he fought and was beaten, the Scots would still find a powerful army between them and the south. But Queen Catherine’s army did not need to go into combat. Surrey and his men defeated the Scots at Flodden Field. The King of Scotland were killed in the battlefield. The news was brought to Margaret at Linlithgow, the fairy-tale palace James had beautified for her. Margaret was left a widow at the age of 23. 

The island of Great Britain was, temporarily and for the first time, in the hands of two women. Catherine governed England as regent for her husband. It was her task to administer the victory. The newly widowed Margaret ruled in Scotland as protector for her one-year-old son, James V. The infant king had been crowned shortly after his father’s death at what, because of the tears shed for the dead left behind at Flodden, became known as the ‘Mourning Coronation’.

In England, Catherine worked loyally to forward her husband’s plans. Scotland had taken a stunning blow, and there was always a party in Henry’s council, a party with strong backing in the country, which felt that Scotland would be a conquest easier and more valuable than France. This seemed a time to push the northern war home, and make an end of the Scottish menace for ever. But Catherine realized that England could not afford two simultaneous campaigns of conquest. Promptly on the news of Flodden she began to disband the reserve army, and to arrange to decrease Surrey’s. 

Nor was Catherine as hard-hearted in victory as her initial jubilation might have indicated. She sent a message to Margaret, offering her consolation for a husband killed by her own soldiers. ‘The queen of England, for the love she bears the queen of Scots, would gladly send a servant to comfort her,’ it said. Soon one of those forthright friars of whom Catherine was so fond, Friar Langley, was on his way. Catherine continued to oversee negotiations for a truce with the Scots. Neither woman felt much like prolonging their war. The letters exchanged between the two queens looked to a permanent peace.

Catherine’s prompt steps to end the Scottish danger as much as her courage in opposing it showed her complete fitness for the hard task Henry had left in her hands. Henry returned home from France in late October, after taking Tournai, and rode hard to Richmond to see Catherine. There the victorious husband and wife were reunited and, ‘there was such a loving meeting as everyone rejoiced’. Margaret had hoped to build on Catherine’s letter of sympathy, and asked her sister-in-law to put her in her brother’s remembrance, ‘that his kindness may be known to our lieges and realm’.  But as Henry took charge of the follow up to Flodden, Scotland’s agony continued. His captains were ordered to strike again and again north of the border, burning corn and destroying villages. It was February 1514 before he decided they had been punished enough and a treaty was signed.  

  Sources:

Giles Tremlett,  CATHERINE OF ARAGON Henry’s Spanish Queen

Garrett Mattingly, Catherine Of Aragon

https://tudortimes.co.uk/people/margaret-tudor-life-story/flodden-and-its-aftermath

https://tudortimes.co.uk/guest-articles/margaret-tudor-and-the-battle-of-flodden/the-final-victory

https://www.historynet.com/henry-viiis-war-games.htm

Top ten favorite things and least favorite things about the Spanish Princess. GO.

Okay, this is definitely not going to be a top ten anything, considering I’m only three episodes in, but:

Things I Appreciate About the Spanish Princess (the first three episodes):

The depiction of Spain as a diverse country full of different cultures, peoples, and religions.

Having black characters as main characters on the show, especially since so much of continental Europe DID have a close history with black people/POC, either from Africa, people who were descendants from freed people from from the Roman Empire, or from the near East.

The comment on the differences of bathing habits between 16th century England and the rest of Europe. A lot of what we did know about basic cleanliness is tracked more in 16th century texts from Italy and Germany, but it would be expected that Spain would follow suit. Washing hands before meals was a thing, as well as washing hands and face in the morning. Although it’s obviously after the timeline of the Spanish Princess and a neighbouring country, there are ‘Travel Tales’ from the early 1600s which state that Germans “strew Pine Leaves powder’d, and all sorts of Herbs and Flowers upon the Floor; which, together with the Lye make a very agreeable Scent.”There is a scented lye-based soap recipe in The treasurie of commodious conceits, & hidden secrets by John Partridge (1573). So cleanliness WAS a thing for the rest of Europe, probably more so than England, and I appreciated that getting a low-key shoutout.

The weird-ass superiority of England despite the fact that it actually WAS in a precarious situation financially and politically at the time, which in retrospect, is pretty laughable considering what other empires (including Spain) were on its horizon.

The fact that we get to see a young and beautiful Catherine of Aragorn, because usually in English-language films we see her as some old bat tucked away with her religious fanatic daughter who’s basically a thorn in the side of Anne Boleyn and not her own person who probably was at that time more valuable of a “catch” than Henry or Arthur was to her.

Dumbass ladies in waiting hooking up with married dumbass English lords because we all know that was a thing that happened.

Things That Annoy the FUCK Out of Me About The Spanish Princess (the first three episodes):

The fact that Queen Isabella is portrayed as this badass warrior queen instead of someone who basically gave the Jews four months to GTFO of Spain and it took hundreds of years for Jewish people to return there. WAHAY FORCED DIASPORA.

That despite there being some historical record that Christopher Colombus shmoozed with the best of them (Especially in sucking up to Queen Isabella for money for his travels), there’s something inherently problematic of portraying him as a weirdly paternal figure considering, you know, history. Even though it would make sense for him to be weirdly suck-y to Catherine because he got the money for his travels from her family, just being like OH HO HO HE GAVE HER A TRINKET TO “GUIDE HER HOME” as a weird historical character drop and so far not mentioning him ever again is a bit cringe.

Queen Elizabeth actually from all accounts was super chill and nice to Catherine- at least, up to the point Arthur died. So it’s a bit odd that she has this weird low-key rivalry with her considering her husband acknowledged her beauty, which she basically low-key trapped him into saying on the show. Cause, ya know. WOMEN. AM I RIGHT.

I mean, it’s a Star show. So I know there’s going to be unnecessary sexual tension and nudity. But the unnecessary sexual tension and nudity.

Speaking of the unnecessary sexual tension and nudity- the fact that they aged King Henry the Eighth up from an eleven year old to an annoying ass douchebro to make some forced story about how he sexed Catherine up in the historical equivalent of slipping into his brother’s DMs- Ew. ALL the ew.

Also the fact that even if they HAD aged him up, even in his early twenties historically pretty much no one had a bad word to say about young Henry- he was literally considered a renaissance man. Chivalrous and kind. We all know what he turned into- but it would have been so much better to have him be that in the first place instead of people just telling us he’s truly artistic and has a ‘heart of a poet’ when he’s literally doing the Tudor version of swapping sex DMs with his friends. Ew.

Also even the fact that sex was discussed early in Tudor England by virtue of the fact that everyone had to care about procreation ten times earlier and would actually sometimes do what Margaret Pole does in this episode and listened to the door to make sure they were actually doing something is very true. What is NOT true is that even in Tudor England, would be an eleven year old listening in on his brother. Not unless even by Tudor standards, that was a weird-ass family.

Oh, and the fact that Henry could freely send off communication if presumably despite the actor looking 26 he was supposed to be under Arthur’s age who was 15 when he died? Like, sorry. I don’t care if you’re the prince of the realm- you got some shit to say- some courtier is going to check it twice. Especially if you’re 14 if we’re fucking with ages already.

Any time it reads like a gratuitous shirt off/layers off scene. Like, did Lina REALLLLLY need her layers pulled off seductively and a shot of her legs randomly for like, three seconds too long? REALLLLY?

Also I know I’m going to rage at the shirtless leather pant scene of Henry already coming up, and I haven’t even come up to episode four. Because Henry the Eighth, as we ALL know, was secretly Jim Morrison from The Doors.

OH AND LAST THING- The fact that Arthur and Catherine consummated their marriage at all? Like, I know its a Star show, so they’re going to go for sex over not, but the whole basis of the tension and the creation of a fucking CHURCH was that they weren’t sure if she’d consummated her relationship with Arthur, Henry assumed she did when it was convenient for him, and then his marriage was considered impure and invalid, because he lay with his brother’s wife. It would have been so much better if we still didn’t know if they lay together either way, because then we as the audience would be guessing along with them. But Star can’t turn down a superfluous sex scene am I right.

LAST LAST THING: Isn’t Keening a Gaelic/Irish thing historically?

I’ll stop now.

What in your opinion was England's greatest battle?

Well, I’m going to follow the letter of the law on this one and take England’s greatest battle to mean its greatest victory pre 1707. Let’s examine the potential candidates. 

The battle of Ethandun. A decisive victory of the Anglo-Saxons under Alfred the Great over the Danes/Vikings. Arguably preserved “England” from destruction, but as the England in question was more a proto-England that may well have survived even after complete conquest by the Vikings, I feel like it has to be discarded. 

The battle of Agincourt. First up, this one is obviously similar to its Hundred Years War triplets, Crecy and Poitiers, except it’s even more extreme. A badly outnumbered English force, trapped in hostile territory, running out of supplies, with literal shit running down their legs from dystentry, are then forced to go on the offensive against a host consisting of some of the best warriors France has to offer. Just for good measure, they’re also close to being outflanked. They win a shock victory. Even denuded of the myth-making that has come since, it’s a contender for England’s greatest victory. Where it falls down, of course, is the fact that the campaign which culminated at Agincourt was virtually an unmitigated disaster, and while Henry V did succeed in subsequently expanding English dominion in France, the Hundred Years War ended in a clear defeat. While tactically Agincourt was a great victory, strategically it was a fighting retreat that can’t even match up to Corunna or Dunkirk (which at least ended with wars won). 

The battle of Flodden. The 1513 near-annihilation of Scotland’s nobility, Flodden was without a doubt England’s greatest victory over Scotland (and they’ve had a fair few of them, the bastards). However, once again it suffers from a lack of follow-up or wider success. While it threw Scotland into turmoil, it didn’t lead to any English campaigns north of the border, or any territory gained. 

The battle of Pinkie Cleugh. A later English victory over the Scots, this one is often overlooked, but was a rout almost on par with Flodden. It’s of particular interest because it was essentially a “modern” mid 16th century renaissance army defeating a medieval one, with the English even employing cannons from ships in the forth neighbouring the battlefield. Ultimately though it again had little wide-scale strategic or political impact.

The sinking of the Armada. The famous defeat of the great Spanish fleet of 1588. Two caveats follow this one - firstly that the weather was heavily responsible, rather than a single fleet action, and secondly that the Spanish went on to defeat an even larger English armada at Cadiz in the following years. However, it can be safely said that the divergent operational objectives of those two engagements made one victory more important than the other. Drake’s Cadiz expedition was designed to cripple Spain’s navy and prestige, while the proposed Spanish invasion of 1588 intended nothing less than the conquest of England and the installation of a Roman Catholic puppet regime. The defeat of the Spanish armada secured the direct Tudor/Stuart succession and the Reformation in England. For that reason I’d give it as the most significant battle.

Honourable mentions must got to the many “civil” war battles of English-on-English - the battles of Bosworth and Towton in the Wars of the Roses, Naseby and Maston Moor in the English Civil Wars, and I’ll also include the Boyne and the other conflicts of the pre 1707 Jacobite risings. These are both mighty English victories and defeats. 

tl;dr the defeat of the Spanish armada is England’s greatest victory.

21st September 1513: Coronation of King James V of Scotland in Stirling

(The Honours of Scotland- the sceptre and sword were both gifts to James V’s father. Not my picture)

On this day in 1513, the young James V was crowned King of Scots in the chapel of Stirling Castle. Not yet eighteen months old, he had fallen heir to the throne a fortnight earlier after the death of his father James IV at the Battle of Flodden. After over twenty years of comparative stability under a popular adult monarch, Scotland now faced a long minority. While this was not an unusual occurrence in Scottish history, James V’s especially troubled minority would provide ample cause for the chronicler Adam Abell, writing twenty years later, to have recourse to that age-old complaint, “Wa is þe kinrik quar þe king is ane barne, ffor þan nowder pece nor iustice rang.” *

The future James V had been born at Linlithgow in April 1512, the fifth of King James IV’s legitimate children by his queen Margaret Tudor. None of the previous babies had survived infancy (though James IV had several living illegitimate children). Despite James IV’s hopeful observation that the new prince “gives promise of living to succeed” in a letter announcing the birth to his uncle the king of Denmark, and the English ambassador’s comment in 1513 that the Prince “is a right fair child, and a large of his age”, there was no way anyone could really be certain. His parents probably hoped for further children anyway, and by the end of August 1513, Margaret Tudor was again pregnant. 

This time, however, other issues took precedence. Relations between Scotland and its neighbour England had recently deteriorated to the point where war seemed inevitable. Following on from James IV’s successful campaigns on the border in the 1490s, a Treaty of Perpetual Peace between England and Scotland had been signed in 1502. Within a decade, however, the fledgling peace was under threa. Political events on the continent had begun to impinge directly on the affairs of James IV’s small kingdom on the edges of Europe. James IV had generally enjoyed profitable relations with the papacy but now Pope Julius II had formed the Holy League with Spain, the Holy Roman Empire, Venice, and the Swiss. This was an alliance against Scotland’s ancient ally France. This placed the King of Scots in a bind and a bad situation was only made worse when the young Henry VIII of England (Queen Margaret’s younger brother), eager to make a name for himself on the European stage, was induced to join the Holy League. The king of England eventually led an invasion of France in summer 1513. When France appealed to Scotland for help, James IV was forced to choose between an old ally and the fragile truce. Deciding in France’s favour, he raised one of the largest armies Scotland had ever furnished and invaded the north of England in August 1513.**

The campaign initially went well for the Scots, who captured the Bishop of Durham’s great castle of Norham after a siege of only five days, and then took the smaller castles of Etal and Ford. But the Earl of Surrey had been appointed lieutenant of the north while the king of England was on the continent and hurried north from Yorkshire as soon as he heard of the invasion, arriving in Northumberland with his army in early September. James IV was willing to stand and fight, as he held a position of strategic advantage on top of Flodden Hill and his army had superior numbers and artillery. But Surrey outflanked him by marching his army to nearby Branxton hill on the morning of 9th September 1513, blocking the Scots’ retreat north. A pitched battle then ensued on the waterlogged fields in between the hills. The result was not only a defeat for the Scots, but one of the worst military catastrophes in Scottish history. The death toll as enormous, not least among the Scottish nobility and clergy: among the dead were the archbishop of St Andrews, the bishop of the Isles and the abbots of Kilwinning and Inchaffray; the earls of Argyll, Bothwell, Morton, Lennox, Cassilis, Caithness, Montrose, Erroll, Crawford, and Rothes; lords Elphinstone, Maxwell, Avondale, Borthwick, Ross, and Seton and many other lords, knights, and common soldiers. Worst of all, the king of Scots himself had been killed. The loss of so many men, and especially leading members of the political elite, was to have a lasting effect on Scotland’s political and cultural experience for decades to come.

(The memorial cross on Piper’s Hill overlooking the site of the Battle of Flodden. Source Wikimedia commons)

News of the appalling catastrophe spread gradually- disturbing rumours had reached Edinburgh by the next day, while confused stories continued to filter across Europe for some months. Shock, anguish, and denial seem to have been the immediate reactions back in Scotland, and for decades rumours would persist that James IV himself had not died, but had escaped somehow and might yet return. The news must have been particularly heavy for the young Queen Margaret, a widow at twenty-three and an English princess now mother to the new king of Scots, an infant who represented the hopes of an entire kingdom. As the full scale of the crisis became clear, the political community had to come to terms with the new situation swiftly, and ensure that the work of government, trade, justice, and domestic life carried on. 

Not much is recorded of the government’s immediate reaction to the disaster, but by 19th of September 1513, a large number of lords and prelates had assembled at the castle of Stirling, a secure fortress which was further from the border than Linlithgow or Edinburgh and therefore a better seat of government in the face of possible English invasion. There the lords took measures to restore normality and reestablish authority; most importantly, the new king must be crowned as soon as possible. Despite his infancy, and the existence of adult male cousins just behind him in the line of succession who might have seemed more appealing as leaders during such a disturbed period, there is no evidence that the young James V’s claim to the throne was ever seriously questioned. In the immediate aftermath of Flodden, the political community rallied around the boy king and his mother, and it was arranged that his coronation would take place two days later on 21st September. In the meantime, the general council nominated over thirty nobles and churchmen to sit in daily council to advise on the government of the kingdom, with at least three spiritual and three temporal to remain in attendance always “as it lykis the queyn to command”.

The coronation went ahead as planned on Wednesday 21st September, “in the kirk of the castell of Striveling”. This would be the first occasion on which a coronation took place in Stirling, though the town was later to host the coronations of James V’s daughter Mary I (in the Chapel Royal) and grandson James VI (in the burgh kirk of the Holy Rude). It was a significant choice: while the coronations of the boy kings James II and James III had broken with the age-old tradition of inaugurating a King of Scots at Scone, James IV had restored this tradition upon his accession in 1488. However, the nobles who had placed the then fifteen year old James IV on the throne had come to power following a rebellion against the king’s father, James III, and Scone was probably chosen on that occasion to lend legitimacy to the new regime. By contrast, in 1513 the government’s priorities seem to have been security and speed in the face of any possible English invasions or public unrest. The infant king was therefore crowned in Stirling Castle’s chapel. It is usually assumed that this was the Chapel Royal, dedicated to St Mary the Virgin and St Michael, which had recently been erected to the status of a collegiate church and promoted as the chapel royal of the realm by James IV. However, due to reasons of space it is possible that the older chapel in the castle was used instead since, for all the attention lavished on it by James IV, the new Chapel Royal may have been too small to house large numbers of guests. 

Not much is known about the coronation proceedings, but the surviving evidence gives the impression that it was a hastily planned affair. In the absence of an archbishop of St Andrews (the previous archbishop, James V’s older half-brother, having died at Flodden), the archbishop of Glasgow, James Beaton, was placed in charge of the proceedings “and all uther necessar provisioun”. Meanwhile, the music for the coronation may have been recycled from a previous Michaelmas celebration- it has been argued that Robert Carver’s beautiful “Missa Dum Sacrum Mysterium” was reworked for this purpose. The honours of Scotland- i.e. the crown jewels- were probably used in the ceremony, including the papal sword and sceptre which had been presented to the new king’s late father, though the toddler king may only have touched them from his position in the arms of an usher. But neither the glittering honours nor the soaring heights of the mass seem to have been enough to lift the spirits of the assembled guests, many of whom had lost fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons at Flodden. Not for nothing has this event become known in modern times as the “mourning coronation”.

(Robert Carver’s “Missa Dum Sacrum Mysterium”, thought to have been used at James V’s coronation in 1513)

Life had to go on however. Widows and orphans had to be provided for, and unrest and crime suppressed. Flodden was a military disaster, but it had not robbed Scotland of its entire political community. The wily James Beaton was soon made chancellor; Gavin Dunbar remained as clerk register; the ubiquitous Patrick Paniter- who had once been described as “the man who dooth all” about James IV- continued as secretary; and the aged yet dependable and experienced William Elphinstone still held the privy seal, while the government was soon pressing for him to be promoted to the vacant see of St Andrews. The chief alteration was in the official head of government. Soon after Flodden, Margaret Tudor had been recognised as tutrix testamentar and therefore regent for her young son, and she was exercising power in this capacity as early as 23rd September. Unlike Mary of Guise thirty years later, Margaret Tudor, though pregnant, was not yet in confinement at the time of her husband’s death and she was able to grasp the chance to become regent with both hands. Previous examples of Scottish queenship had permitted such regency, and Mary of Guelders at least had filled the role admirably (though she did not have a very good reputation in the early sixteenth century). While some among the Scottish political community might have preferred a man at the head of government during this crucial period, rather than a young English widow, and although the Earl of Arran and Lord Fleming had already tried persuading the young James V’s cousin and heir, the Duke of Albany, to return from France in order to lead Scotland during the minority, Margaret’s official rights to govern for her son would prevail, for the time being at least. It was a task which would have been daunting to even the most experienced statesman, but as yet it remained to be seen what she would make of it. 

(King James V as an adult- born in 1512 and crowned in 1513, he would die at the age of thirty in 1542 and be succeeded in turn by another child monarch, his daughter Mary, Queen of Scots)

Notes and references beneath the cut. 

*Basically “woe to the land where the king is a child”, a common adaptation of Ecclesiastes 10:16

**The breakdown in Anglo-Scottish relations in 1513 and the run-up to the Battle of Flodden is actually a lot more complex than this, however I was trying to be brief.

*** It’s quite interesting to compare James V’s coronation with that of his daughter Mary- there are some eerie similarities, but there are also some important differences, that I think shed more light on each individual situation.

*Selected* References:

“The Roit or Quheil of Tyme”, by Adam Abell, ed. S.M. Thorson

“The Historie of Scotland”, by John Leslie, translated into Scots by Father James Dalrymple

“The Historie and Cronicles of Scotland...” by Robert Lindsay of Pitscottie”, ed. Aeneas Mackay

“Acts of the Lords of Council in Public Affairs, 1501-1554″, ed. R.K. Hannay

“The Register of the Great Seal of Scotland”, volume III, ed. J. Balfour-Paul and J. Maitland Thomson

“The Letters of James IV”, calendered by R.K. Hannay

“The Minority of King James V, 1513-1528″, by W.K. Emond

“James IV”, by Norman McDougall

“Crown Imperial: Coronation Ritual and Regalia in the Reign of James V”, by Andrea Thomas, in “Sixteenth Century Scotland: Essays in Honour of Michael Lynch”, ed. Julian Goodare and Alastair A. MacDonald

“Glory and Honour: The Renaissance in Scotland”, by Andrea Thomas- this was also my source for the connection between Robert Carver’s Missa Dum Sacrum Mysterium and James V’s coronation. It is not a direct source- I believe the connection is explored in more death in “Musick Fyne” by Dr James Ross, but I was not able to access that book sadly.

On March 17th 1473 the future King James IV was born at Stirling Castle.

James IV was the eldest son of James III and Margaret of Denmark and is said to have been brought up, mainly by his mother, a strong woman who was more popular than her husband. Queen Margaret died when James was just 12, there isn't much written about his next two years until things came to a head for James III when nobles rebelled against him, his son was the figurehead for the rebellion, at just 14 year his father died in unexplained circumstances after The Battle of Sauchieburn, leaving him King. In penance each Lent, for the rest of his life, he wore a heavy iron chain cilice around his waist, next to the skin. He added extra ounces every year.

Whatever the guilt he may have felt, James put his new found power to good use. He increased Crown revenues to an unheard of level, extended the reach and effectiveness of Royal justice, incorporated the Highlands and Islands into the Kingdom of Scotland for the first time and balanced the power of the competing nobles.

He built a great navy, founding a harbour at Newhaven in May 1504, his ship The Great Michael was the largest in Europe, twice the size of the now, more famous Mary Rose. James took a keen interest in the administration of justice in Scotland he didn't have it all his own way and like his father had his enemies, a year after Sauchieburn he effectively crushed a rebellion in 1489.

His ambition throughout was to have Scotland recognised by all of Europe as an independent state and to throw off any vestige of a hint that Scotland's King might be a vassal of England's, a posture that Scottish kings had to resist, often indulging in low level incursions across the Border that were designed to annoy, whilst not provoking their larger neighbour into outright war.

And England took notice, the Treaty of Perpetual Peace was signed by James IV of Scotland and Henry VII of England in 1502. It agreed to end the intermittent warfare between Scotland and England which had been waged over the previous two hundred years, part of it, as in the Treaty of Edinburgh in the earlier post, meant a marriage, this time Margaret Tudor, the daughter of Henry VII, and sister of arguably the more famous, or infamous Henry VIII and our Scottish King.

With a strong Navy, his borders extended and safe Scotland had a period of relative peace, this gave James the time to busy himself with architectural projects, such as the building of the Great Hall at Stirling Castle and the transformation of Falkland and Linlithgow into Renaissance palaces.

He liked to travel and see his Kingdom and a fun fact about him is that he practiced dentistry! Yes he liked pulling peoples teeth, often paying his patients for the privilege of doing so!

Although his marriage to Margaret is said to have been a happy one, he did have his mistresses, come on he was a Stewart t is in their DNA. Among his numerous unnamed lovers and four mistresses by whom he had a number of illegitimate children. There was no shame held by the women in his trysts, in fact they were often used to the families advantage to curry favour in the court of the King. The children of these mistresses, as I think I have written about before, were pawns, put into positions of power that enhanced the income to the King, one child, Alexander Stewart, was became a sub-deacon, and at the early age of eleven was nominated as Archbishop of St Andrews. This meant the Stewarts could syphon money from taxes raised by the church, you can see why, by the time James came to the throne, the country would undergo the Reformation, ending this. One of his other children, to a different mistress had a son, James Stewart, 1st Earl of Moray, half sibling to Mary Queen of Scots, “ the Guid Regent."

Things changed with England with the accession of Queen Margaret's brother as Henry VIII. Henry VIII was more aggressive than his father. Although the Treaty of Perpetual Peace was renewed in 1509, it soon became evident that Henry was not interested in maintaining good relations with his sister's husband. In a range of matters he failed to give the redress required by the treaty. He also withheld a legacy left to Queen Margaret. Most worrying of all, he encouraged insulting statements in the English Parliament about James being his vassal.

In June 1513, Henry VIII set out to invade France and James was in a cleft stick as he had an alliance with both countries. King Louis XII pressed James to attack England, sending 50,000 French Crowns to fund an invasion. Despite the misgivings of some of his nobles and according to later stories, Queen Margaret begging him to desist, James invaded England in support of his obligations to France.

James headed over the border at the head of his army, said to number some 42,000 men, the largest ever raised in Scotland. Norham Castle fell in 6 days, followed by Wark, Etal and Ford. ames' opponent on the final battlefield was the Earl of Surrey. In a combination of skilled generalship by Surrey and James' determination to press his early victory home, rather than quitting whilst ahead, the enormous Scots army, well equipped and with the odds strongly in its favour, was decimated. James and many of his leading nobles were slaughtered on the field.

The battle is immortalised in a famous lament, often played at Scottish funerals to this day......Floo’ers o’ the Forest.

Dool for the order sent our lads to the Border, the English for ance by guile wan the day. The flowers of the forest, that fought aye the foremost, The prime of our land lie cauld in the clay.

.We'll hae nae mair liltin', at the ewe milkin', Women and bairns are dowie and wae. Sighin' and moanin' on ilka green loanin', The floo'ers of the forest are all wede away.

King James body has always been the subject of speculation, rumours persisted that James had survived and had gone into exile, or that his body was buried in Scotland. Two castles in the Scottish Borders are claimed as his resting place. The legend ran that, before the Scots charge at Flodden, James had ripped off his royal surcoat to show his nobles that he was prepared to fight as an ordinary man at arms. What was reputed to be James IV's body recovered by the English did not have the iron chain round its waist. (Some historians claimed he removed his chain while "dallying" in Lady Heron's bedroom.)

Border legend claimed that during the Battle of Flodden four Home horsemen or supernatural riders swept across the field snatching up the King's body, or that the King left the field alive and was killed soon afterwards. In the 18th century when the medieval well of Hume Castle was being cleared, the skeleton of a man with a chain round his waist was discovered in a side cave; but this skeleton has since disappeared. Another version of this tale has the skeleton discovered at Hume a few years after the battle, and re-interred at Holyrood Abbey. The same story was told for Roxburgh Castle, with the skeleton there discovered in the 17th century. Yet another tradition is the discovery of the royal body at Berry Moss, near Kelso. Fuelling these legends, Robert Lindsay of Pitscottie, writing in the 1570s, claimed that a convicted criminal offered to show Regent Albany the King's grave ten years after the battle, but Albany refused.

Of course there are many other stories, one was dug up, pardon the pun, after the body of Richard III was discovered, you can read about that version here https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-23993363

Anglo-Scottish relations quickly soured after the mature James IV took over control of his government. Intent on winning honour and renown as a warrior king by recapturing Berwick, James rejected [Henry VII]’s peace overtures and the offer of marriage to his eldest daughter, Margaret. He plotted war against England and backed the impostor Warbeck. Henry, meanwhile, tried to get Charles VIII’s co-operation in a scheme to destabilise Scotland by backing the rival Scottish claim of the son of James III’s exiled brother, the duke of Albany.

John M. Currin, “England’s International Relations 1485–1509: Continuities amidst Change” | Tudor England and Its Neighbours

Shelter

They’re built to survive. 

If you look in the right corners of South East England, you can find Second World War air raid shelters, built into Tudor castles, built over Norman fortresses, built on the ruins of Roman temples. One ruler commissioned a place of shelter, and it survives enough for their successor’s successor a hundred times removed to build on it a thousand years later. Another millennia on, the new incarnation is crumbling too, but the same thing happens again. Perpetual rebirth. Evergreen. In any time of trouble, we return to the places which made us safe before.

Each generation note the depth of the foundations, the breadth of the walls, the solid slabs of stone which swallowed musket-balls into their pock-marked façade. But there are some details they overlook. They don’t ask why this building, which could survive German bombs and Royalist cavalry and Celtic chariots, has deterred two millennia of heavy arms. After all, it wasn’t founded as some impregnable keep, designed to be a refuge of last resort. It was supposed to be a place of worship.

But temples and churches have always been places of refuge. They have welcomed in the vulnerable, and offered them protection, a shelter from the storm. They are a safe place for sinners to find their salvation from punishment. Over the years, that has been interpreted more metaphorically. But there was a reason they were built to survive a bombardment. There was a time when the storm outside was real.

There are protections we’ve developed, even before we knew why they worked. In the eighteenth century, scientists added lightning conductors to towers: metal rods, designed to draw the brunt of a strike of above, protecting the building and people underneath. A sword, pointed to the heavens, but used as a shield. But how long had we place metal rods upon our steeples? How long had we feared lightning flung from above, and run to the church for our protection?

We teach that holy symbols help to ward off evil, but we forget how we made them so, or from which side the danger came. Or perhaps we were made to forget. The construction of one tower, Babel, was said to have been punished by the loss of our communication, as its might had threatened to challenge God. How much of our science was lost, in punishment for our land of dreaming spires? Or when did he co-opt their power for his own?

What of radiation? We have since learnt to use it for our own ends, and protect ourselves from its lethal touch: nuclear power plants, military bases, medical machines. The answer is lead shielding, a metal so dense that it serves as armour against their most pervasive slings and arrows. Why, centuries before, did we coat each church roof with lead? Perhaps because we faced galactic horrors from above.

There are holy relics, ancient wisdom, deemed safe only to be handled by priests. Even then, they must wearing the accompanying vestments, robes which cover their whole body. Like a hazmat suit. We mock the archaic teachings: all skin covered up, not even an ankle to be shown. We don’t understand. Perhaps we did, but that has been warped over time, as are many things exposed to radiation’s lethal breath.

Why were churches built like castles, before even castles were? What enemy did we have, predating the armies of our neighbours, to congregate and shelter from? Perhaps the clue lies in the way they point, in the focus on protection from above, on their depictions which have since been misconstrued. They are the oldest surviving buildings, built to withstand more dimensions than time, but it’s not because they are blessed. It’s because they are built to stand the opposite.

Walmer Castle and Gardens Learning Centre

Walmer Castle and Gardens Learning Centre Kent Building, Adam Richards Architects Architecture Images

Walmer Castle and Gardens Learning Centre in Kent

14 Sep 2021

Design: Adam Richards Architects

Location: Kent, south east England, UK

Stephen Lawrence Prize 2021 Shortlisted

photograph © Brotherton Lock

Walmer Castle and Gardens Learning Centre

Jury Report

This understated, well-detailed building fits a huge amount into a small space. Brickwork and the shape of windows reflect the neighbouring historic buildings, and an old greenhouse is reused as part of this development. Good consideration is given to the use of the spaces; they are comfortable and practical issues like storage are well considered.

photo © Brotherton Lock

This collection of small buildings have been carefully positioned using existing sight lines, and are almost unnoticeable behind the existing tree when viewed from the Tudor fortress. This compact scheme achieves a big task of providing a comfortable and engaging space for education for all kind of users and age groups through the architect’s careful and considerate multi-function design features.

photo © Brotherton Lock

This project offers delightful little surprises everywhere; changing ceiling heights responding to the functions and volumes of the spaces, to unobstructed views from carefully aligned windows providing visual connectivity to the gardener’s shed, or the seated gathering space formed from the cleverly detailed concrete base of the building. The form of the ‘vitrine’ window takes cues from the original fortification’s gun embrasures, opening into a kitchen garden that supplies produce to the new adjacent café.

photo © Brotherton Lock

The detailing of the little café is contemporary, referencing the historic building in its materials and form, and it reutilises the existing lean-to greenhouse to create a light-filled and spacious, yet carefully articulated, space serving visitors to the garden. Overall, this is an very good example of repurposing an existing structure in a creative way to sustainably generate income that supports the current usage.

photo © Brotherton Lock

Walmer Castle and Gardens Learning Centre in Kent – Building Information

RIBA region: South East Architect practice: Adam Richards Architects Date of completion: August 2019 Client company name: English Heritage and the Heritage Lottery Fund Project city/town: Kent, England Contract value: £935,000.00 Internal area: 200.00 m² Cost per m²: £4,675.00 / m² Contractor company name: Walker Construction Ltd

photo © Brotherton Lock

Consultants:

Structural Engineers: Historic England Services Engineer: Martin Thomas Associates Landscape Design: LUC Play Equipment: Studio Hardle Quantity Surveyor / Cost Consultant: Press and Starkey

photo © Brotherton Lock

Awards:

• RIBA Regional Award • RIBA National Award • Stephen Lawrence Prize 2021 Shortlist

Stephen Lawrence Prize 2021 Shortlist

Walmer Castle and Gardens Learning Centre, Kent, images / information received from RIBA 140921

Location: Kent, south east England, UK

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Templeman Library Architects: Penoyre & Prasad photo © Tim Crocker Templeman Library in Canterbury

Fort Burgoyne in Dover Design: Lee Evans Partnership, Architects image from architects office Fort Burgoyne

Black House Architect: AR Design Studio image courtesy of architects Black House in Kent

Marlowe Theatre in Canterbury photo : Hélène Binet Marlowe Theatre, Canterbury Building

Caring Wood, Leeds, Maidstone Design: Macdonald Wright Architects photo © James Morris Caring Wood, Kent

Dungeness Beach House Kent

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Comments / photos for Kent & Medway Medical School, Canterbury building design by Adam Richards Architects page welcome

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I know that Game of Thrones is inspired by historical events, mainly the Wars of the Roses for its original conception, but people were super pissed about Rhaegar having his marriage annulled and as a result removing his first two children from the line of succession, which is just a dick move on Rhaegar's part but not historically unheard of. So I thought I'd throw some meta at it, because while it simply makes GoT interesting it is also a move comparable to another historical dick, Henry VIII.

By the time Henry VIII died he had married six women, and had one after the other annulled his marriages (poor Anne tho), delegitimized the children born of those women, AND created a whole religion in the process (the Tudors, amirite). He ended up with three viable heirs. Sounds kinda like the only three viable heirs to the Targaryen dynasty following the death of Elia, Aegon, Rhaenys, and Rhaegar. They would be the last of the Targaryens -- Viserys, Dany, and Jon (Aegon 2.0).

Now the first person to take over from Henry VII was his son Edward but a sickness not too many years later took him. Like Edward, Viserys fell pray to a sickness - the Targaryen sickness. And overcome with cruelty, greed, and madness he was killed and, again, like Edward, was succeeded by his sister.

Edward was followed by Mary. Or more popularly known as Bloody Mary. She basically set out on a witch hunt, which resulted in years of internal war and a horrifyingly high numbers of civilian casualties. For those who don't know this was at the height of the Protestant Reformation where the Catholic church split and basically neighbour was killing neighbour based on religious differences, cue the 30 years war!! Mary was Catholic, but England was a Protestant country thanks to her father. Like Dany, Mary set out to restore order to a system she felt was broken by not only her countrymen but the people in her very family. Her father had done horrible things and she felt that she alone, and her holy convictions could restore order to the country led down the wrong path. (Hm sound familiar)

During Mary's rule Elizabeth I was actually held captive by her half sister on suspicion of aiding rebels ( again, hm sound familiar), but shortly before Mary's death she named Elizabeth as her heir because she saw her as a better ally than Mary Queen of Scot's. Elizabeth, like Jon, never really knew her mother, Anne Boleyn, after she had died at the hands of her father. It's debatable whether or not chopping off your wife's head is the same as kidnapping a 15 year old, marrying her, and leaving her to have your baby in a tower but for the sake of this argument -- let's just roll with it (omg no pun intended, again sorry Anne)

If this piece of history could tell us anything about the direction in which Thrones is going is that potentially Dany will view Jon as a threat to her claim for the throne, but recognizing her own shortcomings (either strategic weakness, lack of claim, or impending mortality) she will name Jon her heir. Cersei's rising power, in this analogy Mary Queen of Scots, will be the push for Dany to recognize her own weakness, let Jon take his rightful place as King, and eventually for Jon to defeat Cersei (with Elizabeth being the reason that Mary QoS lost her head, so many executions man).

Now I'm not too sure if it will play out in any particular way I've suggested (probably not) but it's an interesting connection between real life history and the events of Thrones which we know GRR loves so much.

It's like 1am, this is not a coherent analysis, but 1am me thinks this is an important thought that the world needs to know so ... take it as you will

“On the whole, there were none of those extremes of poverty and wealth which have excited the astonishment of philanthropists, and are now exciting the indignation of workmen. The age, it is true, had its discontents, and these discontents were expressed forcibly and in a startling manner. But of the poverty which perishes unheeded, of a willingness to do honest work and a lack of opportunity, there were little or none. The essence of life in England in the days of the Plantagnets and Tudors was that everyone knew his neighbour, and that everyone was his brother’s keeper. My studies lead me to conclude that, though there was hardship in this life, the hardship was a common lot, and that there was hope, more hope than superficial historians have conceived possible, and perhaps more variety, than there is in the peasant’s lot in our time.” — James Edwin Thorold Rogers, Oxford Lectures 1887-1888

THE MOST OBVIOUS PROBLEM that England faced at this time was the war: an 18-year-long conflict, affecting most of western Europe, that dominated these years. This had multiple separate theatres. The Anglo-Spanish conflict was played out at sea, in naval raiding and counter-raiding, both large (as in the Armada) and small. Secondly, Elizabeth sent troops to support the Protestant Dutch in their fight for independence from Catholic Spain. English troops also fought in the final phase of the 30-year long religious wars in France. The death of the last Valois king, Henry III, in 1589 had left the Protestant Henry of Navarre as claimant to the French throne, facing the ultra-Catholic Guise faction, backed by Philip II of Spain. Again, Elizabeth agreed to aid her fellow Protestant and in 1589-95 she sent nearly 20,000 troops to do so. (..) War was extremely challenging to the early modern state: this was the main reason Elizabeth had carefully maintained a peaceful foreign policy for over 20 years earlier in her reign. Combat demanded resources, primarily money and soldiers. During this period taxes rose to the highest point in the reign. Such demands were risky, since tax demands were a common cause of rebellion. Yet even these relatively high taxes were not extortionate in the overall scheme of things. Back in the 1540s Henry VIII had raised twice as much per year. Elizabeth was able to keep taxes as low as possible by ruthlessly minimising the extent of her commitments abroad. In contrast to many early modern monarchs, she never spent more than what was needed and she made a virtue of her frugality. Her people could see that she was not wasteful with their money. THE GOVERNMENT also minimised its need for funds by relying on the counties to supply resources. Almost every year in the 1590s the county militias mustered and trained their troops in case of Spanish attack. The Privy Council implored them to buy newer and more up-to-date weapons. On top of this, the counties frequently had to supply fully equipped units of men to fight overseas, service from which many would never return. Both the militia and the troops levied have typically been regarded with some contempt by historians, as a poorly trained, poorly equipped rabble. Again this judgement has been far too sweeping. It was certainly the case that the troops were of variable quality and no doubt some were badly equipped. But, alongside the criticism, there are plenty of contemporary reports indicating that the equipment was sufficient and the recruits themselves were adequate and even, on occasion, brought credit on their counties. After all, they did what was asked of them in the field. One risk for the government was the length of the war. It must have seemed that the Privy Council was sending a never-ending series of expensive, tiresome and irritating demands into the counties. Many expressed their unhappiness at these requests, something that has led historians to detect a widespread war weariness. But this is to mistake the function of the complaints. We should not be surprised that Elizabethans complained about having to pay their taxes, to serve in the militia, or to work towards the war effort. Throughout history people have tended to be negative about taxation. This seldom means that they refuse to pay, however. Typically, people do both: pay and complain. Much the same is true of the Elizabethan wars. Historians should focus less on what people said and more on what they did. The evidence shows that despite the war going on for almost two decades, the counties continued to be remarkably obedient to the Council’s demands. WHY WAS THIS? There are several reasons. First, the Council had set up a carefully designed system to manage these demands. Each county had a lord lieutenant providing a single figurehead, either a privy councillor or a leading nobleman, supervising military affairs. These were assisted by deputy lieutenants, carefully chosen from the leading gentry for their loyalty, efficiency and devotion to Elizabeth’s Protestant regime. This hierarchy of officials smoothed the process of carrying the orders of the queen and Privy Council around the country. It was also a matter of winning the battle of ideas. Historians like to point to the Tudor ‘propaganda machine’ as one of the dynasty’s great successes. Yet it is something of a myth. There never was any kind of machine: Elizabethan government simply didn’t work like that. To imagine this supposed machine bamboozling the country into accepting 18 years of war through ingenuity or sheer persistence is to imagine that the political classes of England were fools. As historians are increasingly recognising, early modern English people, especially the wealthy, had access to plenty of news and information about the wider world. The government had some influence over this distribution of knowledge, but it had far from a monopoly. The government did of course make efforts to mould opinion, but the nation’s acceptance of the war lay above all in the rational conclusion on the part of the politically active sector of the population that a genuine risk existed. This should not be surprising. In 1588 those on the south coast might literally have seen the sails of the Armada as it sailed up the Channel. The threat was frighteningly palpable. Even when the war was a matter of defending England’s allies, the Dutch and French, the government made sure that the gentry understood that it was better to fight Spain on its soil than in the fields of Kent. Elizabeth’s subjects knew very well that almost all of England’s neighbours had experienced religious wars: the Netherlands, Germany, France and, at times, Scotland and Ireland, too. In these circumstances, broadly speaking, there seems to have been a national mood of cooperation with the government. Those who argue that the war was stirring up intolerable pressures in the body politic need to explain how, in such circumstances, the government managed to continue the war for so long with so little actual resistance. While historians might like to see the late Elizabethan period as the beginning of a process whereby English government and politics slid into the dysfunction which eventually led to civil war, this is simply not borne out by the evidence. There was in no sense a fundamental breakdown of relations between government and people. What of social problems, then? The burdens of the war have been interpreted as coming alongside a series of other woes of the commonwealth. This was already a point at which living standards were being eroded by population growth; the poor were getting poorer and villagers were becoming polarised between the minority of prosperous landowners and poorer, often landless, peasants. These longer-term problems were accentuated in the 1590s by food shortages. The harvests of 1594 and 1595 were both disappointing and those of 1596 and 1597 were even worse. Rural society could absorb one or two bad harvests, but four on the trot was serious. Mortality rose, especially among the poor. There was also a serious outbreak of plague in London in 1593. In itself we might question whether this supports the case of a 'crisis of the 1590s’. After all, famine and plague were by no means unique to the period – any decade of the 16th century saw such outbreaks. This was a subsistence economy in which disease and famine were expected elements of life; from time to time they struck. One notable feature of the 1590s, however, was that the government took an increasingly active role in managing these problems, continuing an approach that can be seen throughout the 16th century. The Privy Council issued 'Books of Orders’ to the JPs, directing them on how to manage supplies of grain and prevent hoarding and profiteering and so forth. Local officials worked hard to implement these directives. It was in everyone’s interest to prevent starvation and death and the accompanying discontent and protest. More broadly, the increasing social problems of the period led to the enactment of the Poor Laws by the Parliaments of 1597 and 1601, something supported both by the government and the political nation more broadly. Building on earlier Tudor legislation, the laws directed that every parish collect money from the wealthier inhabitants to provide a basic level of subsistence to the poorest. The sums offered were pitifully small and there were all sorts of problems with the system, but it remained the basis of poor relief in England until the 19th century. These moves scarcely suggest a dysfunctional political system; they were in fact innovative responses to pressing national problems. The government appears to have managed affairs such that discontent was minimised, something that is shown by the remarkable lack of popular uprisings in the 1590s. This is impressive given that the government itself was undergoing a major generational shift. With the deaths of Leicester in 1588, Walsingham in 1590 and Hatton in 1591, some historians have claimed that the regime was closing in upon itself, becoming increasingly exclusive, insular, even authoritarian. The shift is overdrawn. There was still a great deal of continuity within the regime, with experienced councillors, such as Lord Buckhurst and Lord Admiral Howard, working alongside rising stars such as Sir Robert Cecil and the Earl of Essex. Above all, it is easily forgotten that William Cecil, Lord Burghley, who had been at Elizabeth’s side since the very start of her reign in 1558, himself survived as an active councillor virtually until his death in 1598. It is true that some younger courtiers chafed at their exclusion from power, and the Privy Council did shrink to an unusually small size, but in fact Elizabeth had always preferred a highly select Council. Only one of the queen’s three archbishops of Canterbury became a councillor and other notables, such as Sir Walter Ralegh, Francis Bacon and many lesser men were also excluded. As the Earl of Pembroke, himself a major figure never admitted to the Council, put it, 'some must govern, some obey’. Ultimately, the evidence suggests that the Council continued to operate in a broadly consensual way, even in a period in which it had to work harder than ever before to deal with the stresses of war. THE OBVIOUS EXCEPTION TO THIS picture of effective cooperation was Robert Devereux, 2nd Earl of Essex, whose spectacular rise to favour at the start of the 1590s, matched by his disastrous fall at the end of the decade, has understandably fascinated historians. It is often argued that his rivalry with the other rising star of the period, Robert Cecil, dominated political life at court, which became poisoned by their mutual animosity. While there was clearly tension between these two very different men, it is going too far to see the entirety of political life as dictated by their competition for power. Essex and Cecil could and did work together whether they liked each other or not, as political leaders often have to do. Fundamentally the two men were concerned with different areas of public life: Essex was the leading military figure, heading expeditions abroad; Cecil worked at home to raise the supplies that were needed. The evidence demonstrates that this working partnership was remarkably effective. Essex’s final command was no exception. He was sent to Ireland in 1599 to put down the Earl of Tyrone’s rebellion, a problem which by then dominated the political scene. The mission ended in catastrophe for Essex; he failed to achieve any of his objectives and ended up abandoning his command after less than six months in Ireland. His unauthorised return to court was compounded by him bursting in on the queen, soiled with the dirt of travel, in a desperate effort to present to her his side of the story. Having failed so spectacularly, he inevitably fell into a disgrace, which lasted 18 months. His 'rebellion’ in February 1601 was a final, futile attempt to force his way back into the queen’s favour, but instead led him to the scaffold days later. Essex’s failure in Ireland cannot be put down to a lack of support from Cecil and from England – in fact Essex’s army was larger than any previous Elizabethan army – but may best be explained by a combination of ill-luck, a hugely challenging mission and Essex’s own shortcomings, including a distinct sense of paranoia that came to dominate his actions. Once he had removed himself, the Irish situation fell into the patterns established more broadly at this time. The major crisis of Tyrone’s rebellion was contained and controlled by a massive royal army, a formidable effort on the part of the regime. Essex’s replacement, Charles Blount, Lord Mountjoy, led the army in a brutal suppression of Ireland, which was complete by the end of Elizabeth’s reign; news of Tyrone’s surrender arrived in London six days after the queen’s death. THE FAILURE OF ESSEX’S CAREER was in many respects the great disappointment of the 1590s, but it highlights something that is often overlooked: the continuing centrality of Elizabeth herself to her government. The rise of Essex was due to royal favour; without it, he would have remained an impoverished young nobleman. The queen’s identification of the youthful earl as a man of great potential, a possible replacement even for Leicester’s role in government, may, in retrospect, have been a mistake. Certainly she may be charged with having mishandled him to some extent, allowing him too much freedom and failing to set the limits of appropriate behaviour. But once she had made the decision that he had gone too far, that was it; there was no way back into government for Essex, just as there was no room on her Privy Council for men such as Francis Bacon, who had displeased her. The queen’s decision was final and that is what makes it so clear that Elizabeth was still in control. This was even true of the great unresolved question of the reign: the succession. It was widely believed that James VI of Scotland was the most likely successor and Elizabeth never contradicted this. During the 1560s and 1570s she had been under constant pressure to marry and settle the succession; by the 1590s it seems that few people had the nerve to press her on the point. Both Essex and Cecil conducted highly secret correspondence with James and, while we know little about what Essex was saying, Cecil’s letters survive. There was a remarkable and revealing feature to his letters, in that he took great pains to clarify that his first allegiance remained to Elizabeth until her death. In a letter to James of October 1601 he redrafted the ending several times. Having experimented with telling James that he was 'after Caesar, yours above all’ and 'yours to command above all’, Cecil settled for the more direct and carefully formulated statement that he would 'ever remaine in humblest affections after one, and her alone, at your Majesties commandment’. Cecil’s clarity about his order of priorities provides striking evidence of Elizabeth’s continued hold on the loyalty of the most prominent member of her government and suggests the key to the stability of her reign during the early 1600s, something that eventually resulted in the smooth transfer of power to James himself. There is no doubt that the 1590s was a difficult period in certain ways. Yet historians should resist caricature and acknowledge both the good and the bad, the strengths and the weaknesses. Elizabeth’s government faced the challenges of circumstance and often dealt with them highly successfully. There is no need to characterise these years as a period of decline and sterility. They witnessed a government working at the peak of its capacity, dealing with serious problems with remarkable efficiency. Perhaps most impressively, the regime maintained the war effort in Europe at the same time as raising and equipping a large army in Ireland. Significant economic problems at home were contained and controlled by an innovative programme of legislation. At court, Essex’s rise and fall were easily contained. The queen lived to die of natural causes, uncontested on her throne, having maintained her power until the end.

Janet Dickinson and Neil Younger, “Just How Nasty Were the 1590s?,” History Today, vol. 64, no. 7, July 2014, pp. 10-16. Source