u/Suerly-04

I had never seen this beautiful painting before. The title of the painting is "Queen Isabel the Catholic Presiding over the Education of Her Children." It was painted in 1864 and depicts Queen Isabel and her children. It is currently on display at the Museo del Prado in Spain. The Prado Museum also displays an original portrait of Queen Mary I painted by Antonis Mor.

The person beside Queen Isabel, most likely her daughter Catherine, is showing her a piece of paper (a letter?). Catherine was Isabel's youngest child. Her brother Juan is playing the virginal. Catherine had three sisters named Isabella, Joanna, and Maria, but there are four girls in this painting. I think one of the girls may be Margaret of Austria, the wife of Catherine's brother Juan.

This painting gives us a glimpse into Catherine's childhood. Catherine spent her life in Spain before coming to England in 1501. She did not have a quiet life; her family was constantly travelling throughout Spain, and Catherine accompanied them. During her early childhood, she grew up in Spain in a social and cosmopolitan culture alongside Christians, Muslims, and Jews.

Her brother Juan died a few months after his marriage. Juan's wife, Margaret, did not leave Spain immediately; she stayed there for another two years and, at the request of Elizabeth of York and Margaret Beaufort, helped teach Catherine French. A close friendship developed between them that would last until Margaret's death.

Her eldest sister Isabella died in childbirth in 1498 at the age of 28. Her other sister Joanna spent much of her life isolated in a castle. Catherine's closest sister, Maria, died in 1517 from ailments caused by frequent childbirth.

We can imagine how much sorrow a young girl felt over losing two of her siblings in succession. However, Catherine continued her education under her mother's supervision and received an accomplished education.

I would also like to share a passage I read a few days ago about Catherine's childhood in Theresa Earenfight's book:

"As she traveled, she came into contact with an array of cultural influences—Mudéjar and Gothic, Christian and Muslim—in the towns she visited and at the court of her parents, who relished the mix of styles even as they conquered the Nasrid kingdom of Granada. Some places mattered to her more than others: Arévalo, where her grandmother lived; Guadalupe, her spiritual home; Seville, site of many family gatherings; and Granada, where she soaked up both the sun and Islamicate culture. The act of travel shaped Catalina's aesthetic taste and created meaningful social practices. But the royal processions promoted more than just Isabel and Fernando's ambitions. Catalina received an important education in queenship as she watched her parents interact with their subjects and convoke the regional assemblies of nobles and townspeople. Her identity was shaped by the geography of the Iberian Peninsula—from the mountains of the north to those of the south, and inland and coastal cities. She spoke several languages and could read even more, a cultural fluency she gained during a childhood spent literally on the move."

The traces of the culture in which she grew up did not leave her when she came to England, and throughout her queenship she formed friendships with famous humanists such as Thomas More, Erasmus, and Juan Luis Vives. She supported them and asked Vives to write a book for the education of her daughter, Princess Mary. Vives wrote a book entitled De Institutione Feminae Christianae (The Education of a Christian Woman) and dedicated the book to Catherine of Aragon. Again at Catherine's request, Vives prepared a study programme for Princess Mary.

Catherine ensured that her daughter Mary received an education as accomplished as her own. When Mary was 11 years old, she translated a prayer by Saint Thomas Aquinas from Latin into English. Although this translation was most likely done as homework, it circulated in certain circles. Sometime between 1537 and 1547, Henry Parker (Jane Boleyn's brother) wrote the following to Mary about this translation:

"I remember very well that when you were scarcely twelve years of age, you were already so proficient in the Latin language—a rare thing among women—that Your Grace could not only perfectly read, write, and construe Latin, but furthermore translate any difficult text from Latin into our English tongue. And among all your other most virtuous endeavors, I have seen a prayer translated by your own hand from Saint Thomas Aquinas that, I assure Your Grace, is so well done and so faithful to the Latin original that whenever I look upon it—as I possess a copy of it—I not only marvel at its execution, but furthermore, because of its excellence, I have placed it in my own book or books, as well as in those of my poor wife (your humble beadwoman) and my children, so that it may give them occasion to remember to pray for Your Grace."

Richard Fetherston, who served as Mary's Latin teacher from 1525 to 1533, also played a part in this achievement.

After Richard Fetherston became her daughter Princess Mary's tutor in 1525, Queen Catherine wrote the following to Mary:

"As for your Latin writing, I am glad that you are to go to Master Fetherston, for it will greatly benefit you to learn from him how to write correctly. Nevertheless, I would like you sometimes to send me the Latin passages you have written yourself, after having them read over by Master Fetherston, so that it will be a great comfort to me to see that you retain its Latin, its fine style, and everything else."

Since we know that Mary's knowledge of Latin was at least as good as her English, we can understand that Federston was a good teacher.

(Additional note: Mary's last recorded words were in Latin.)

As for her teacher Richard Federston, it is worth mentioning a few things about him as well. He was a great supporter of Queen Katherine and Princess Mary during the annulment proceedings. As a result, he was imprisoned in the Tower of London around 1534 and, after approximately six years of imprisonment, was hanged, drawn, and quartered alongside other supporters of Queen Katherine and Princess Mary.

Thank you for reading this somewhat messy post. Initially, I was only going to talk about this painting I newly discovered and Catherine’s childhood, but then I suddenly included Mary as well. Sending love to you all!!

Theresa Earenfight, Catherine of Aragon

Valerie Schutte, Princesses Mary and Elizabeth Tudor and the gift book exchange

Throughout her early life and reign, connections were drawn by her supporters between Mary and the Virgin Mary. It is very easy to guess that this association pleased Mary. Even before her reign, comparisons between her and the Virgin Mary were drawn much more easily owing to her name and her virginity.

In 1549, John Proctor presented and dedicated his work, The Fal of The Late Arrian, to Mary. Capitalizing on the similarity between their names, he stated: "So that a man may rightly think in his mind and reasonably conclude that, according to the law of Pythagoras, although the bodies have changed, the souls are the same." Furthermore, she was praised by some as the rarest flower of virginity.

This praise continued during her reign, but unfortunately, I cannot recount every single instance here. Since the part I am going to explain pertains to Mary's pregnancy, I will focus on that period.

Mary and her council went to great lengths not to present Philip as a foreign king. Through his parents—who were Mary's first cousins—Philip was descended from Edward III. He possessed English royal blood; he was not entirely a foreign monarch.

In the 16th century, as well as in earlier and later times, the role of queens was often reduced solely to bearing children. However, during Mary's reign, while producing an heir was one of her duties, it was not her sole or most important duty. Mary held the title of queen and Philip held the title of king, but the practical execution of these titles shifted during her reign. Mary acted as the king, and Philip as the queen. There was only one thing the English people viewed as Philip's primary duty: getting the Queen pregnant.

We can observe this in a letter written angrily by a Spaniard: "They refuse to crown our Prince, though he is their King, for they do not recognise him as such or as in any way their superior, but merely as one who has come to act as governor of the realm and get the Queen with child. When she has had children of him, they say, he may go home to Spain. Would to God it might happen at once! for it would be a good thing for him and I believe he would be very glad; we certainly should all be delighted to get away from these barbarous folk."

As can be understood from this reproachful letter, despite holding the title of King, Philip was not all that important, and his primary duty, as stated above, was to get the Queen pregnant. (How nice to see gender roles reversed!)

During Mary's pregnancy, Philip was experiencing his peak popularity in England, yet this did not make him any more significant politically. By September 18, rumors that Mary was pregnant began circulating in court circles, but the official public announcement coincided with Reginald Pole's arrival in England in November. From that moment on, Mary was once again compared to the Virgin Mary, and parallels were drawn between them.

As Sarah Duncan notes, comparing a pregnant queen to the Virgin Mary might seem unusual at first, yet the analogy persisted.

How can you compare a pregnant queen to the Virgin Mary? By ignoring the father of the child.

Sarah Duncan states: "During Mary's phantom pregnancy, the role of the Virgin Mother served as a convenient metaphor to convey the idea that the father of the child was not Philip, but God."

On November 28, 1554, Mary's pregnancy was announced to all of England. Immediately upon his arrival in England, Cardinal Pole was received by Mary and greeted her with a religious quotation regarding the Virgin Mary:

“Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb."

Mary was delighted and moved by this greeting and the comparison to the Virgin Mary; at that exact moment, she felt the baby move in her womb.

Prayers were offered and hymns were sung for Mary and her baby. In one of these hymns, another religious citation appeared: "Fear not, Mary; for thou hast found favor with God."

During this period, poems and prayers were written praising Mary and the expected heir. Philip's name was excluded from these prayers, which asked God to protect Mary.

I would like to share a quote on this subject from Sarah Duncan's book, as I find it more accurate to present it directly rather than adapting it:

When Cardinal Reginald Pole learned of the queen's pregnancy, he wrote to Mary that he had heard "that Divine Majesty had granted the queen the grace to bear fruit in her womb, thus making her the mother of an heir to this earthly kingdom." Pole did not merely refer to the queen as the Virgin Mary on account of her pregnancy; he also linked her condition to her role in restoring Catholicism to England. Just as God had blessed her with a child, He had also granted her the grace to be "the mother of those who will inherit the eternal kingdom." Thus, the queen could rightfully be called mater deorum—the mother of God—leading God's children into His unity and obedience.

Attributing so much meaning to an unborn child might seem somewhat pointless by today's standards, but for that era, it was an event of paramount importance. The Cardinal also wrote passionate, enthusiastic letters to the Pope regarding Mary's pregnancy, in which Philip likewise occupied no significant place.

Even though Philip was Spanish and the unborn child would genetically inherit more Spanish than English blood, according to the marriage treaty, the child would be the heir to England and could not be taken out of the country. This significantly restricted Philip's authority over the unborn child.

Therefore, Philip may have become somewhat invisible in the prayers offered, letters written, and poems composed; however, it can also be argued that the reason for this was the deliberate attempt to liken Mary to the Virgin Mary. To establish these parallels between the Virgin Mary and Queen Mary, Philip's presence was obscured on numerous occasions and during various events—including parts of Mary's funeral—and Mary was repeatedly praised for her virginity.

Thank you for reading! Sending love to you all!

There are also narratives comparing Mary to Jezebel, and these could be discussed separately under their own heading. Likewise, the horrible things that were written about Mary during her pregnancy certainly deserve a separate post and, moreover, condemnation.

Please excuse the poor image quality; it looks this way because I cropped it.

Sarah Duncan, Mary I
Valerie Schutte, Princesses Mary and Elizabeth Tudor and the gift book exchange

Initially, I thought this piece should focus solely on Queen Mary I of England for specific reasons. However, after realizing that all three women John Knox fiercely hated shared the name Mary, I felt it ought to be titled John Knox's Three Marys. Then, I stumbled upon a beautiful portrait of Elizabeth and decided to include her as well. Still, I must clarify that our main focus remains Queen Mary I.

John Knox served as a royal chaplain to King Edward VI, but following Queen Mary’s accession to the throne, he rightfully fled England in 1554. As an intellectual of his era, Knox gathered with other English exiles and penned several writings.

Although Knox fled from the rule of one woman, Mary was not the only female monarch reigning during this period.

John Knox was a Scot, and at that time, Mary of Guise—mother of Mary, Queen of Scots—was ruling Scotland as regent on her daughter's behalf.

Initially, Mary of Guise was not entirely hostile toward Protestantism. In 1555, when Knox was accused of heresy by the Catholic hierarchy following a popular and successful preaching tour in Scotland, Mary quashed the case.

Emboldened by a mix of hope and courage from this outcome, Knox drafted a letter expressing his desire for church reform. Mary of Guise dismissed Knox's request as a joke. Furthermore, after Knox left Scotland, the bishops revived his trial and ultimately burned him in effigy. Following this event, Mary became the target of Knox's prophetic rage.

In a letter written in 1558, he spoke of "God's hot displeasure" against her for persecuting the righteous and ignoring the call for reform. As he later added, the regent's crown fitted her "as a saddle upon the back of an unruled cow."

That same year, John Knox published a treatise openly opposing rule by women, titled The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstruous Regiment of Women.

Although the treatise generally argued against the right of all women to rule, it was primarily written in opposition to Queen Mary I of England. In his work, Knox explicitly branded Mary a bastard and a traitor, addressing her as Jezebel:

“Wonder it is, that amongst so many pregnant wits as the isle of Great Britain hath produced, so many godly and zealous preachers as England did sometime nourish, and amongst so many learned, and men of grave judgment, as this day by Jezebel are exiled, none is found so stout of courage, so faithful to God, nor loving to their native country, that they dare admonish the inhabitants of that isle, how abominable before God is the empire or rule of a wicked woman (yea, of a traitress and bastard)”

“I am assured that God hath revealed to some in this our age, that it is more than a monster in nature that a woman shall reign and have empire above man.”

“To promote a woman to bear rule, superiority, dominion, or empire above any realm, nation, or city, is repugnant to nature; contumely to God, a thing most contrarious to his revealed will and approved ordinance; and finally, it is the subversion of good order, of all equity and justice.

And first, where I affirm the empire of a woman to be a thing repugnant to nature, I mean not only that God, by the order of his creation, hath spoiled woman of authority and dominion, but also that man hath seen, proved, and pronounced just causes why that it so should be. Man, I say, in many other cases blind, doth in this behalf see very clearly. For the causes are so manifest, that they cannot be hid. For who can deny but it is repugnant to nature, that the blind shall be appointed to lead and conduct such as do see? That the weak, the sick, and impotent persons shall nourish and keep the whole and strong? And finally, that the foolish, mad, and frenetic shall govern the discreet, and give counsel to such as be sober of mind? And such be all women, compared unto man in bearing of authority. For their sight in civil regiment is but blindness; their strength, weakness; their counsel, foolishness; and judgment, frenzy, if it be rightly considered.

I except such as God, by singular privilege, and for certain causes known only to himself, hath exempted from the common rank of women, and do speak of women as nature and experience do this day declare them. Nature, I say, doth paint them forth to be weak, frail, impatient, feeble, and foolish; and experience hath declared them to be inconstant, variable, cruel, and lacking the spirit of counsel and regiment. And these notable faults have men in all ages espied in that kind, for the which not only they have removed women from rule and authority, but also some have thought that men subject to the counsel or empire of their wives were unworthy of public office.”

John Knox was certainly justified in his rage against Mary; after all, by the end of 1558, when his work was published, around 280 Protestants had been martyred. However, I view the situation as more layered. Since John continued to uphold these views even after Mary’s death, there is no reason not to see him as a misogynist. At the same time, given that misogyny remains a widespread affliction today, we might simply describe Knox as a man of his time.

Queen Mary I of England died just a few months after the publication of this work. Knox wished to return to England, but the new monarch, Queen Elizabeth I, refused him entry. By explicitly labeling female rule as "monstrous," Knox earned the hatred of Elizabeth as well. Even though Elizabeth was a Protestant, Knox remained unsatisfied, criticizing her use of crosses and candles and dismissing her as "neither a good Protestant nor a resolute Papist."

When Mary of Guise died in 1560, Knox viewed her death as an outcome that could have been avoided had she only heeded his words.

By this time, the only surviving Queen Mary—Mary, Queen of Scots—had returned to her homeland.

Upon her arrival in Scotland, Knox, who was back in the country, did not hold back his fiery words from the young queen. He openly opposed her attendance at Catholic Mass and delivered sermons criticizing her. As a result, Knox was summoned before the queen, leading to five face-to-face meetings between them.

During their first encounter, Mary argued that subjects ought to follow the religion of their sovereign, whereas Knox rejected the idea that a monarch had the right to impose their religion on the people of their realm.

In their second meeting, Mary swore she would never attend Protestant services.

After their third meeting, Knox learned of Mary’s plans to marry the Crown Prince of Spain—a move that would entrench her deeper into Catholicism and heighten the potential for persecution against the Reformed Church of Scotland. Knox took to the pulpit once again, this time to warn against her marriage to a Catholic prince.

This led to their fourth meeting, where Knox was criticized for interfering in Mary's private life. He later wrote: "Her shouting was turned to female weeping, which interrupted her speech," and her tears flowed "in great abundance according to the matter."

Knox was eventually tried for treason, which led to their fifth meeting. The Queen accused Knox of summoning her subjects to a gathering without her permission. Ironically, Mary’s own interventions backfired during the proceedings, ultimately leading to Knox's acquittal. Her mistakes allowed others to forcefully defend Knox’s ministerial right to freely assemble his congregation.

It is worth noting that throughout these interviews, Knox never treated Mary with contempt simply for being a woman; he addressed her as he would any king. Yet, this did not stop him from displaying overt condescension. At one point during the legal proceedings, he remarked: "Madam, I have begun to speak logically with the Secretary; I consider him a much better dialectician than Your Majesty."

Apart from this, Knox’s 1558 treatise on the monstrosity of female rule brought him significant trouble and sparked backlash from fellow Protestants. Most English Protestants did not share his views on women, yet Knox expressed no regret for writing the work.

Thank you for reading. Sending you all my love and best wishes for happiness.

Note: The italicized sentences in the Queen Mary I section are direct quotes from Knox. The italicized portions concerning the other two Marys are direct quotes from the article I read. While John Knox himself is not my primary focus—as my main interest lies with Queen MaryI - I had to rely more heavily on quotes for the other two Marys.
To prevent any religious debate, I should clarify that these are the opinions of a single individual and cannot be attributed to any entire religion. Personally, I view every religion as misogynistic to a certain extent. Since my interest lies with Mary, her detractors are naturally Protestants; had my focus been Elizabeth, I would have found equally harsh writings penned by Catholics. Therefore, I have no desire to spark a theological argument.
That aside, I find it quite cool for a woman to have an entire treatise written about her by a furious, misogynistic man. (Of course, by “cool,” I mean it from Mary’s perspective.)
History offers dozens of such examples across various religions.

——

John Knox, The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstruous Regiment of Women 1558

Sean Morris, How do you solve a problem like Maria (And Mary, and Mary and Elizabeth)? Part II

I recently came across the inventory records of Mary's jewels kept up until 1546, and I wanted to share some of them with you.

From these records, we can see that Mary had a lot of pearl jewelry. I can't name them all one by one, but she had many pieces in this style.

In the 1542 record, it states that Mary had a diamond IHS emblem with 3 drop pearls attached. Later, in 1546, Henry gave Mary another one of these jewels, but this one was smaller. This pendant (or whatever it's called) is actually a very familiar piece of jewelry to us. We first come across it in a miniature portrait of Queen Catherine of Aragon, and later Queen Jane Seymour is shown wearing it in her famous Holbein portrait. I reckon Jane might have been the first one to give this jewel to Mary.

Then it mentions that Mary had an "M" shaped jewel (pendant) with 3 rubies, 2 diamonds, and a large drop pearl. She also had a ruby set inside an "H" with a drop pearl. She might have worn these as necklaces.

It's also noted that Duke Philip of Bavaria gifted Mary a diamond cross containing 4 diamonds and a large drop pearl.

Mary often took part in Valentine's Day lotteries. Princess Mary's name was drawn by Anthony Browne, and in return, Anthony Browne drew a portrait of Princess Mary himself and gave it to her as a Valentine's gift. Mary, in exchange, gave him a gold brooch with black enamel, featuring an agate depicting the story of Abraham and four small uncut rubies.

Mary had a gold book with portraits of her father Henry and her mother Catherine inside. Even though Mary gave jewelry as gifts all the time, she never gifted this to anyone; it says "remained in her possession" next to this jewel. However, she did gift a round locket with black enamel containing portraits of the King and Queen Jane at a wedding.

She gifted a gold-plated green locket depicting the Trinity to Princess Elizabeth. She also gave Elizabeth a gold pomander containing a sundial—I read somewhere that Queen Catherine Howard had given this pomander to Mary.

Since we know Mary was a religious person, it comes as no surprise that she had a lot of rosaries. She had a gold rosary with black and white enamel, a lapis lazuli rosary with gold trimmings, a coral rosary with gold trimmings, and a round garnet rosary also with gold trimmings. She even gave the heart-shaped end of a lapis lazuli rosary with a heart at the tip to a lady's daughter.

Catherine Parr gifted Mary a pair of bracelets adorned with small pearls.

But I want to talk about the jewel that surprised me the most: in 1546, King Henry gave Mary an emerald featuring a ruby and a large drop pearl, with a half rose and pomegranate motif on the back.

In 1546 again, Henry gave Mary a brooch set with a beautiful table diamond framed by 4 rubies, depicting the story of Pyramus and Thisbe. After Mary became queen, she gifted this brooch to Elizabeth on July 21, 1553. And Elizabeth—if I remember correctly—later gifted this jewel to Mary, Queen of Scots, who was in England at the time. An interesting connection.

Mary also had a gold signet ring with a rose motif inside.

Apart from these, she had many jewels engraved with stories of religious figures: a locket depicting the story of Solomon's Temple, an Old Testament story brooch, another brooch with Jacob sleeping, a brooch showing Christ healing the paralytic, a Noah's Flood brooch, a David story brooch, a Solomon story brooch, a Moses story brooch...

There are other lockets, rings, brooches, bracelets, and various jewels besides these. But unfortunately, I can't list them all one by one.

We know Mary gave gifts very often. During this period, jewelry gifts to Margaret Douglas, Margaret's son Henry, her cousin Frances, Frances's daughter Lady Jane, her brother Edward, and many ladies are recorded.

This jewel inventory generally shows the jewels she possessed in 1542 and 1546. The jewels she owned during Edward's reign or her own reign are not listed in this record.

If you'd like to read about the jewels in more detail, the source is Privy Purse Expenses of the Princess Mary by Frederick Madden.

Thanks for reading, sending much love to you all!

I was reading about Mary, and I came across this passage while reading the introduction of the book. The publication date of the book is listed as 1831, but I found it interesting that someone back then thought this way about Mary—perhaps it was added later. This is because Mary had a remarkably poor reputation during that period and throughout the subsequent Victorian era. We can perhaps attribute the general effort to rehabilitate Mary's reputation to the last fifty years or so. I found it quite surprising that someone could think along these lines during that era.

Here is the quote:

“Perhaps no figure in English history has been condemned as widely and indiscriminately as Mary, Princess and Queen of England. Many of the most popular writers have consistently described her with harsh criticism and contempt, and because these opinions have been repeated so often in print, many readers have accepted them as fact.

As a result, labels such as “narrow-minded,” “ill-natured,” “bad-tempered,” “gloomy religious fanatic,” and “Bloody Mary” have, until recently, become almost interchangeable with her name.
Such sweeping and one-sided condemnation immediately suggests a lack of fairness, and when examined calmly and objectively, it reveals an even greater lack of historical truth.

Even the historian Strype—who could hardly be accused of being biased in Mary’s favor—acknowledged that Mary’s true character cannot be understood by relying only on Protestant writers. When we also remember how much it benefited Elizabeth’s court to encourage attacks on her predecessor, it becomes much less surprising that Mary’s religious intolerance came to overshadow every admirable quality she possessed as both a woman and a monarch.

The editor has no intention of defending the religious policies adopted by Mary and her advisers after she became queen, nor of trying to erase the reputation that the so-called “Marian persecutions” have left on her reign.

However, it is important to remember that we should not judge the sixteenth century solely by modern standards. It was, in every respect, an age of religious intolerance. Both Catholics and Protestants believed they were carrying out God’s will when they executed people who rejected their religious beliefs.

If respected figures such as Sir Thomas More, Hugh Latimer, Nicholas Ridley, and even Archbishop Thomas Cranmer could calmly accept—or even support—the burning of those they considered heretics because of doctrinal differences, then perhaps we should also understand the religious zeal of a woman whose greatest mistake was her unwavering commitment to the faith she had been taught since childhood.

It was the religion in which her mother had lived and died, a faith strengthened by centuries of tradition. Mary’s own painful memories of the suffering endured by both herself and her mother naturally shaped her convictions.

Mary’s life and character before she became queen, especially during the years when she was still a princess and before her father’s death, are the main focus of this memoir. It is during this period, the author believes, that Mary deserves the greatest sympathy and admiration.

If any woman ever suffered humiliation and mistreatment without deserving it, Mary did. And if any woman spent years in isolation developing qualities such as kindness, generosity, compassion, sincere religious devotion, and a love of learning and the arts—qualities that enrich both the mind and character—it was Mary.

These are not simply the editor’s opinions. They are supported by surviving historical documents and by the conclusions of many respected modern historians. Scholars such as Lodge, Lingard, Turner, Ellis, and Singer provide strong evidence that challenges the harsh judgments made by writers like Rapin, Hume, Walpole, and Grainger.

The editor also notes that earlier writers, whether they praised or condemned Mary, were often influenced by the political and religious biases of their own time. For that reason, their testimony should be treated with caution.”

Although I share similar views to those expressed in this passage, I look at things a bit differently. I would love to hear your thoughts on this text as well.

Thank you for reading. Sending love to you all.

I think this is one of the historical narratives I dislike the most. Unfortunately, it is also one that is repeated very frequently. While I do not believe it is entirely false, I do think it is heavily coloured by prejudice.

I should say from the outset that I see the origins of this “old queen and young prince” narrative in Philip’s Spanish household.

Before continuing, however, I should make one thing clear: this article is not intended to be an antithesis to that narrative. In other words, what would the opposite argument be? That Mary was young and beautiful while Philip was old and ugly? No—that was not the case either.

What follows is simply my own opinion and my criticism of this particular narrative.
At the same time, I do not believe that those who promote this view are completely detached from reality. Nevertheless, I think it is a narrative that can also be examined through the lens of prejudice and misogyny.

Philip himself left no recorded remarks about Mary’s appearance. The comments we possess come primarily from his closest friend and adviser, Ruy Gómez de Silva, and from the members of the Spanish household who accompanied him to England.

Only a few days after Mary and Philip’s wedding, they began expressing their opinions about the Queen. They said that the Queen looked older than they had been led to expect; that she was very thin, very short, and very pale; that she had no eyebrows; and that she dressed very poorly. They added that if she dressed more elegantly, she might appear younger.

Ruy Gómez later made the famous remark:
“It takes the help of God to drink this cup.”

Judging from the context, he was referring to Philip’s lack of physical attraction to Mary.
Many of these observations are accurate. They are also confirmed by the report written only a few months later by the Venetian ambassador describing Mary’s appearance.

Before turning to the observations of other ambassadors, however, I should provide a little context.

Yes, Mary was very short. I believe she inherited this trait from her mother. She is generally believed to have stood between 5 ft 1 in and 5 ft 2 in tall.

One point should be added, however: Philip himself was not tall. He was also very slender.

The claim that Mary was extremely pale is likewise true. Some of the books I have read suggest that this may have been the result of the frequent bloodletting she underwent.

As for the claim that she had no eyebrows, she obviously did. They were probably just so fair as to be barely noticeable. I also recall reading that both Henry VIII and Edward VI were once described as having “no eyebrows,” so perhaps this was simply a hereditary trait.

The criticism of Mary’s clothing also deserves some context. Mary dressed in the French style. In fact, it was not only Mary—French fashion was popular throughout England at the time, and much of the English court dressed in the same manner. Because the Spanish regarded the French as their enemies, they looked down upon French fashions as well. Mary even had Philip dressed in French clothing, and one can easily imagine how much this irritated the Spaniards.

Another point worth mentioning is that the Spanish courtiers were generally unimpressed by English women. They considered only a handful of them attractive and regarded the rest as unattractive. Unfortunately, these rather rude opinions about women did not end with Mary’s death. They continued to make disparaging remarks about women for many years afterwards.

I do think it is true that Mary appeared older than her actual age. Philip, however, also looked older than he was. The difference was that Philip was widely regarded as an attractive man—a fact reflected in how deeply each of his wives fell in love with him.

There is also something worth mentioning about Ruy Gómez himself. He was the same age as Mary: thirty-eight. Yet only a year earlier he had married a thirteen-year-old girl—someone almost three times younger than both himself and Mary.

Yet while marriages between young men and older women were often regarded as deeply problematic, and women’s appearance was subjected to constant scrutiny, we rarely hear the views of the young girls who married men old enough to be their fathers.

Mary’s appearance did not cease to be the subject of disparaging remarks from the Spanish after her death. A year later, Philip married a thirteen-year-old girl—someone even younger than his own son—and one Spanish minister reportedly remarked:
“His Majesty will have no cause to complain that he has been forced to marry an ugly old woman.”

Unfortunately, the identity of this minister is never given in the sources. He is referred to only as “a minister.”

If we set aside the rather rude opinions of Philip’s Spanish household, we still have other contemporary descriptions of Mary.

In 1554, the Venetian ambassador wrote:

“So she yesterday completed her 38th year and six months. She is of low stature, with a red and white complexion, and very thin; her eyes are white and large, and her hair reddish; her face is round, with a nose rather low and wide (largo); and were not her age on the decline she might be called handsome (bella) rather than the contrary. She is not of a strong constitution, and of late she suffers from headache and serious affection of the heart (grave passione di cuore), so that she is often obliged to take medicine, and also to be blooded. She is of very spare diet, and never eats until one or two in the afternoon, although she rises at daybreak…”

Another report, written in 1557, described Mary as follows:

“She is of low rather than of middling stature, but, although short, she has no personal defect in her limbs, nor is any part of her body deformed. She is of a spare and delicate frame, quite unlike her father, who was tall and stout; nor does she resemble her mother, who, if not tall, was nevertheless bulky. Her face is well formed, as shown by her features and lineaments, and as seen in her portraits. When younger she was considered not merely tolerably handsome, but more than moderately beautiful. At present, apart from a few wrinkles—caused more by anxiety than by age—which make her appear a few years older, her appearance is otherwise very dignified. Her eyes are so piercing that they inspire not only respect but fear in those upon whom she fixes them, although she is very short-sighted and unable to read or do anything unless she holds it close to her eyes. Her voice is rough and loud, almost like a man’s, so that she can always be heard from a considerable distance. In short, she is a respectable woman, and even at her present age she is by no means to be regarded as ugly, even without taking into account her rank as Queen.”

I should make one important point here. This article is not intended to argue that Mary was not ugly but beautiful. Personally, I find it rather distasteful to debate how beautiful—or how unattractive—people who have been dead for centuries were.

This is, to a large extent, a matter of perspective. Different people will naturally view the same person differently.

Another point I would like to address is Mary’s age.

Mary was thirty-seven when she became Queen and thirty-eight when she married. Yet while Mary was described as an “old woman” at the age of thirty-eight, her father, Henry VIII, was still described as “very young” when he was thirty-eight.

Perhaps this perception had something to do with fertility. However, Mary’s cousins, Frances and Margaret, were around the same age as Mary and were giving birth one child after another. Of course, these were not their first pregnancies. When it was believed that Mary would give birth in 1555, many older women from across England who had recently given birth were brought to court in an effort to reassure her.

The question of Mary’s “old age” is also often discussed in relation to life expectancy. Yet Mary was actually one of the earliest deaths within her immediate family.

Her mother, Catherine of Aragon, died at fifty, while her father, Henry VIII, died at fifty-six. The same is generally true of her grandparents—Elizabeth of York, who died in childbirth, being the obvious exception. Her sister Elizabeth lived to the age of seventy, and her husband Philip died at seventy-one—although, of course, no one at the time could have known that.

Most of Mary’s relatives—apart from brothers who died young and female relatives who died in childbirth—lived comparatively long lives.

Had the swelling in Mary’s abdomen not ultimately claimed her life, she might well have lived much longer.

Another issue worth mentioning is that whenever a man marries a woman older than himself, the woman’s age is almost always emphasised.

We can see this even in television series about Henry VIII, where Catherine of Aragon is often portrayed as though there were at least a ten-year age difference between her and Henry, when in reality the difference was only about five and a half years.

This is often used to excuse or justify a king’s infidelity and mistreatment of his wife. The woman is portrayed as old; therefore, the man cheats on her. Therefore, he treats her badly. They are presented as an unsuitable match from the beginning, and the audience is expected to see it that way as well.

Kings, on the other hand, marry much younger girls and this is usually mentioned only in passing.

Mary herself had been deeply anxious about marrying a younger man before her marriage. Renard, the Imperial ambassador, whom she regarded as something of a spiritual adviser, tried to reassure her. He told her that a man approaching his thirties could no longer be considered young and that the prince was already a middle-aged man, as evidenced by the fact that he already had an eight-year-old son.

Whether Renard’s words truly comforted Mary, we cannot know. What I do know is that, had she heard the remarks made about her afterwards, I have little doubt that she would have been deeply surprised—and deeply hurt.

Thank you for reading this rather long and inconclusive post. Sending lots of love to you all!

•I came across the image I shared some time ago, but despite searching, I couldn’t find much information about it. I saw it identified in a few places as depicting the marriage of Mary and Philip, so I decided to share it here. If anyone knows anything about the image, I’d be happy if you could share any information.

The wedding took place on the Feast of Saint James, the patron saint of Spain, chosen by Mary. Since a royal wedding had not taken place in England for a long time, the example of Prince Arthur and Catherine of Aragon’s wedding was followed.

The groom arrived at the cathedral at ten o’clock, accompanied by the court dignitaries, lords, and knights, all dressed most magnificently. Mary entered the cathedral half an hour later. Having no close male relative, she walked down the aisle by herself, followed by her lords. Behind them were nearly fifty very elegantly dressed ladies. The cathedral and the streets were packed with people eager to witness the wedding.

Mary’s wedding dress was in the French style, made of rich woven purple satin embroidered with pearls and lined with purple taffeta. It featured a sleeveless vest covering the chest—an element in women's fashion for several years—and a high collar. The petticoat was made of white satin enriched with silver and had a train.

Philip wore white breeches and a doublet with an extraordinarily rich collar. Over all this, he wore a mantle of rich cloth of gold—a gift from the Queen—adorned with pearls and precious stones, and he wore the collar of the Order of the Garter. Philip’s outfit had been specially designed to match Mary’s attire, and Mary wore the same matching mantle over her dress.

Before the marriage ceremony began, Gardiner, the Bishop of Winchester, recounted the terms of the marriage treaty and announced that the Emperor had ceded the Kingdom of Naples to his son.
The ceremony was conducted in English and Latin. A plain, thin ring was placed on Mary’s finger. It was quite simple and ordinary, but Mary had chosen it because that was how young maidens used to marry in the past.

Mary was given away on behalf of the entire realm. The crowd shouted aloud, praying for God to grant them happiness. The vows were solemnized, and Philip kissed Mary.

Mary and Philip sat on chairs placed on an elevated platform to listen to the Mass. After the Mass concluded, the King of Arms of the Garter and the heralds proclaimed:

“Philip and Mary, by the grace of God, King and Queen of England, France, Naples, Jerusalem, and Ireland, Defenders of the Faith, Princes of Spain and Sicily, Archdukes of Austria, Dukes of Milan, Burgundy and Brabant, Counts of Habsburg, Flanders and Tyrol."

These titles changed again when Philip became King of Spain, and Mary referred to herself in her will as follows:

"In the name of God, Amen. I, Mary, by the Grace of God, Queen of England, Spain, France, Both Sicilies, Jerusalem, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, Archduchess of Austria, Duchess of Burgundy, Milan, and Brabant, Countess of Habsburg, Flanders, and Tyrol, and lawful wife to the most noble and virtuous Prince Philip."

This wedding was the culmination of a year-long wait.

After the ceremony, feasts were held, and dancing ensued.

Following supper, the King and Queen retired to their chambers. A Spanish observer describes the rest as follows: "Then the Bishop of Winchester blessed the marital bed, and there they remained. What happened that night is known only to themselves. If they grant us a male heir, all our fondest expectations will be fulfilled."

Happy wedding anniversary to dear Mary! I know today was one of the happiest days of her life. (I'm not wishing you well, Felipe.)

Thank you for reading. Sending love to you all.

•The first image is a contemporary portrait of Philip and Mary.
•The second image shows a replica of Mary’s wedding dress, crafted in honor of the 450th anniversary of their wedding.
•The chair in the third image is currently preserved in Winchester Cathedral and is believed to be the chair Mary sat on during the wedding.
•The remaining images are non-contemporary depictions of Philip and Mary’s wedding.

On 13 July, Philip and his enormous retinue boarded their ships, which had been decorated with English and Spanish flags, and set sail for England. However, the voyage did not go well for them. The sea, overcome by storms and enormous waves, ruined their journey, and many of the Spaniards, including Philip himself, suffered severely from seasickness. Some were so frightened that they even drew up their wills.

On Thursday, 19 July, the Spanish fleet finally reached the port of Southampton, one of the ports of the Kingdom of England. Philip spent that day aboard his ship. On 20 July, he came ashore for the first time and was received there with great affection and respect. However, he was not able to see Mary immediately. For three days he tried to become accustomed to England’s climate and customs.

On 23 July, they set out for Winchester, where Mary was staying. Philip was received with great honor at the entrance to the city. He went directly to Winchester Cathedral. By this time, the people had filled both the streets and the cathedral in order to catch a glimpse of Philip—so much so that they were almost crushed by the crowd. After the service, he went to the residence that the Queen had prepared for him and changed out of his soaking wet clothes.

At ten o’clock that evening, the Queen’s attendants came to Philip and told him that the Queen was waiting for him and that he should come to her secretly, accompanied by only a few members of his household. Philip then prepared himself. Together with his attendants, they crossed charming bridges and beautiful lawns until they reached the residence where the Queen was staying.

Mary was waiting for them with many of her ladies-in-waiting, the Lord Chancellor, and several nobles. She was wearing a black velvet gown adorned with precious jewels, and on her head she wore a jeweled headdress. She was completely covered in jewels.

One month after deciding to marry Philip, Mary had seen a portrait of him for the first time, in November, and she had been very pleased with it. Ever since seeing that portrait, although she had not yet met Philip in person, she considered herself half in love with him. For months she had awaited his arrival in England with excitement and impatience. She had not even cared about the unwritten convention of the time that the first letter should be written by the man. Unable to restrain herself, she wrote to Philip first. “After all, she was a queen, while he was only a prince. If she had wanted to, she could have written to him.”

She informed Philip that their marriage had been approved by Parliament and concluded her letter with these words:

“And, hoping shortly to supply the remainder verbally, I will make an end at present, praying the Creator to grant you, my good and constant ally, to make your journey hither in prosperity and health, commending myself very affectionately and humbly to Your Highness. Your entirely assured and most obliged ally,
Mary.”

We can only imagine how excited Mary must have been at that moment. Perhaps she felt that she had finally found the prince of her dreams. (Indeed, she had even had a magnificent white horse prepared for Philip.)

Mary was waiting for him in the audience chamber. Philip ascended the stairs and came face to face with her. Mary walked toward Philip, and they greeted one another. Philip kissed Mary on the lips.

This kiss on the lips was by no means an accepted form of greeting in Spain. It was an English custom, and Philip must have been warned about it and instructed on what to do before arriving in England.

Afterward, they took each other by the hand and sat down together on chairs. Mary spoke in French, while Philip spoke in Spanish, yet they did not seem to have any difficulty understanding one another.

(Unfortunately, none of the sources I have read so far records the contents of their conversation. It is truly a great pity that no one preserved what they said to each other.)

Later, the Lord High Admiral of England, William Howard, approached Mary and Philip and remarked that if they already got along so well now, they would understand one another even better in a few days’ time. We can only imagine how embarrassed Mary must have been by Howard’s words.

Philip then rose and asked Mary’s permission for his knights to kiss her hand. Mary agreed. One by one, his knights kissed the Queen’s hand.
Afterward, Philip wished to return to his residence, saying that it was growing late, but Mary would not let him leave immediately, and they continued talking for some time.

“When it was finally time to part, Philip asked Mary how he should say ‘good night’ in English. The Queen told him he should say ‘Good night.’ However, when he approached the ladies, he forgot the phrase and walked back across the middle of the room to ask the Queen once again. The Queen was delighted that he had returned; after greeting the ladies in English, he retired to his apartments.”

Although Philip had been advised as early as 1553 to learn English, it is surprising that he did not know even such a simple expression. While this is generally taken as evidence that he was rather unconcerned about learning the language, it is also possible that Philip knew at least some English but merely pretended not to. Nevertheless, it is generally accepted that Philip was not a man who spoke many languages. He was, above all, completely Spanish.

The following day, Philip rose very late. He was presented with the clothes that Mary had had made for him. However, Philip found them too extravagant, so he did not wear any of them.
Later, he went to the Great Hall to see the Queen. He bowed to Mary, and, just as on the previous evening, kissed her. Once again, they took each other by the hand and conversed before Philip departed.

That evening, after the religious service, Philip went to Mary with joyful news. The Emperor had granted the Kingdom of Naples to his son. In this way, Philip would marry Mary not as a prince but as a king, and Mary would become Queen of Naples as well. Mary was delighted by this news.

They then parted once more.

The following day, they would be married.

Thank you for reading. Sending love to you all.
I believe the image is one of those created for Victor Hugo's work Marie Tudor. It is unclear who the person kneeling before Mary in the image is, but we could also think of him as Philip.

My article has turned into something of a summary with some of my own reflections included. However, anyone wishing to learn more about Philip’s arrival in England and his wedding to Mary may consult Sheila Himsworth’s The Marriage of Philip II of Spain with Mary Tudor.

When I searched for it, the results identified it as Mary. I believe it’s in Brazil.

I think it was made in 1922. However, I’d never seen it before, and apparently there aren’t statues of any of the other English monarchs there. Why is there only one of Mary? It’s also not depicted in a very conventional style—I almost wonder if she’s crying.

It really surprised me because I always thought Mary was the Tudor monarch with the fewest statues.

I first came across this painting a few days ago. As I always say, seeing images related to Mary always excites me. Although Philip has individual portraits with nearly all of his wives, I had never known that there was a painting depicting him together with all four of them.

Very little is known about the work itself. It is said to have originally been part of a set of panels.
There are many details that make this painting both fascinating and dramatic.

If we identify the figures from left to right:

The first figure is Philip’s first wife, Maria Manuela, who was also his first cousin twice over. Philip and Maria were the same age, and they married in 1543 when they were both sixteen years old. Philip was not particularly pleased with Maria. Standing beside her is their only child, Don Carlos. Before Maria had even reached her eighteenth birthday, she died of hemorrhaging just four days after giving birth to him.

Don Carlos was Philip’s first son and, throughout most of his life—until Philip removed him from the line of succession just a few months before his death—his only heir. However, because he was the product of a close consanguineous marriage and later suffered a severe head injury, he developed serious mental instability. For this reason, he became known as Mad Don Carlos.

In the painting, Maria is holding a mirror, perhaps as a symbol of her youth. Don Carlos stands immediately beside his mother.

The second figure is Queen Mary. Mary was eleven years older than Philip. For her, the marriage was not only political but also deeply personal. Unlike the other women depicted, Mary’s hands are empty. Unlike Maria, Elisabeth, and Anna, she is not accompanied by a child. However, unlike the other wives, she wears a golden crown upon her head. Although it is not as large as Philip’s, it symbolizes that she was a sovereign ruler in her own right.

At the center of the painting stands Philip, holding a sword and wearing a large crown. He occupies the very center of the composition.

To Philip’s right is his third wife, Elisabeth of Valois. During her childhood, Elisabeth had been betrothed to Queen Mary’s brother, King Edward, but his early death prevented the marriage from taking place. Elisabeth was only thirteen years old when she married Philip and was nineteen years younger than him. The marriage was not consummated for quite some time. For many years, Philip was also dissatisfied with Elisabeth. Toward the end of their marriage, however, he became noticeably more affectionate toward her.

Elisabeth gave birth to two healthy daughters, one year apart, and became pregnant again the following year. By then, however, her health had begun to deteriorate. After delivering a premature baby girl who survived for only an hour and a half, Elisabeth died. She was just twenty-two years old.

In the painting, her two daughters stand beside her. She holds the hand of one while resting her hand on the head of the other. The girl whose head she is touching is Isabel Clara Eugenia, Philip’s favorite child and the one in whom he placed the greatest trust. The other girl is Catalina Micaela, who also died in childbirth at the age of thirty.

I’d also like to add that, sadly, Philip’s mother, two of his wives, and one of his daughters all died as a result of childbirth. It is likely that these repeated losses had a profound emotional impact on him.

The figure on the far right is Anna of Austria. Anna was both Philip’s biological niece and his second cousin. She was twenty-one years old when they married. Because of their close blood relationship, the Pope was initially unwilling to approve the marriage. Philip, however, pressured the Pope, who eventually granted the necessary dispensation. The marriage is generally regarded as a happy one.
They had five children together, but only one survived to adulthood. Anna died at the age of thirty-one following an influenza epidemic.

In the painting, standing beside Anna is her only surviving son, the future Philip III.

I wanted to share this painting with you because I find it remarkably dramatic. Thank you for reading.
Sending my best wishes to you all.

19 July 1553, Mary was proclaimed Queen in London.

For Mary, this had been the culmination of a two-week struggle.

On 5 July, while travelling to London, she learned on the road that the Duke of Northumberland had laid a trap for her, that King Edward had very little time left to live, and that if she continued to London she would be arrested. She immediately changed course and went to Hunsdon instead.

On 7 July, she received news that King Edward had died. However, she treated the report with caution. Once she had confirmed that Edward was indeed dead, she wrote to the Privy Council on 9 July, proclaiming herself Queen. In her letter, she demanded their loyalty, made it clear that she was fully aware of what they were doing, and declared that if they abandoned their unlawful course of action, she would forgive them.

The councillors, however, although surprised by Mary’s letter, insisted that she could never become Queen and expressed astonishment that she had dared to assume the royal title. They also met with the Imperial ambassadors and declared that Lady Jane Grey was Queen and that even the Emperor should acknowledge her as such.

Surprisingly, Emperor Charles V did not come to Mary’s aid. He believed that she had little chance of success. Likewise, the Imperial ambassadors in London were convinced that Mary would fail. They considered her decision to proclaim herself Queen a grave mistake and believed she would fall into Northumberland’s hands within four days.

Their doubts were not unfounded. Unlike Northumberland, Mary had neither money nor an army. She was accompanied only by a small number of loyal supporters. With their help, she sent letters to noblemen throughout the kingdom, calling upon them to join her rightful cause.

At first, support was limited, but it quickly grew like an avalanche. People flocked to Mary, bringing money, food, soldiers, and ammunition. This growing movement deeply alarmed the members of the Council. Even the official responsible for King Edward’s treasury fled with the royal funds and joined Mary.

Meanwhile, an army under the command of the Duke of Northumberland marched against Mary in an attempt to crush her rapidly expanding forces. Yet the people refused to support Northumberland’s army and offered it neither encouragement nor assistance.

Rumours spread through London that Mary’s army had grown to 30,000 men. At the same time, sermons were preached denouncing her as both a bastard and a papist. Yet despite these attacks, the people showed little sympathy for such preaching.

As more and more nobles deserted to Mary’s side and fears of an inevitable civil war increased, the Privy Council finally met once again. They acknowledged Mary as the rightful Queen and proclaimed her in London. Official proclamations announcing her accession were read throughout the city, and church bells rang in celebration.

The Council appointed the Earl of Arundel and Lord Paget to carry the news to Mary, who was then at Framlingham Castle.

On 18 July, Mary had already issued a proclamation declaring:

“Mary, by the grace of God, Queen of England, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, and on Earth Supreme Head of the Church of England and Ireland.
To all our loving, faithful, and obedient subjects, greetings. Following the death of our most dearly beloved brother, King Edward the Sixth of worthy memory, the Imperial Crown of this realm—along with all its privileges, titles, and honors—has justly and lawfully passed to us as our rightful and true inheritance, in accordance with the laws of this kingdom.”

Mary did not learn that she had been proclaimed Queen in London until 20 July.

By then, the soldiers who had waited so long had begun to lose heart. Military preparations were therefore intensified. To raise their spirits, Mary emerged from the castle and mounted a magnificent white horse. At the sight of their Queen, the soldiers erupted in cheers. Riding before her army, Mary saluted them and delivered words of encouragement. However, the noise unsettled her horse, forcing her to dismount. She then continued on foot, inspecting her troops before returning to the castle later that evening.

That same afternoon, Lord Paget and the Earl of Arundel arrived at Framlingham Castle.

When they came before Mary, they knelt and pledged their allegiance. They informed her of everything that had taken place in London and told her that she had been proclaimed Queen. They also begged her forgiveness for their previous actions.

Also on 20 July, the Duke of Northumberland received news that Mary had been proclaimed Queen. Realising that all was lost, he stepped into the marketplace, threw his cap into the air, proclaimed Mary Queen, and cried, “God save Queen Mary!” As he did so, he laughed even as tears ran down his cheeks.

Meanwhile, London erupted in celebration. Bonfires were lit throughout the city, and people danced joyfully in the streets.

I am certain that these events astonished everyone at the time—including Mary herself—and that almost no one truly expected her to become Queen.

Well… perhaps I should say everyone except one person: Queen Catherine of Aragon.

She knew she had given birth to a Queen. She defended that truth, fought for it, and never stopped believing in it. I like to think that the good Queen Catherine watched Mary from Heaven that day with immense pride—a warrior Queen watching her daughter, who had proved to be every bit as much of a warrior as she was.

Thank you so much for reading, and sending lots of love to you all!

Important Note: The artwork I have shared is not AI-generated. No artificial intelligence was used at any stage of its creation. It is a digital illustration created in Procreate, and the original work-in-progress version also exists. It is absolutely not AI-generated.

My sincere thanks go to Marian History, the owner of this artwork, for kindly giving me permission to share it. I fell in love with this illustration the moment I saw it, reached out to ask for permission, and they very graciously answered all of my questions and allowed me to post it.
Ig: @quenemarye

I believe the gown depicted here is inspired by one of the dresses traditionally associated with Mary’s coronation.

The cause of Queen Mary’s death is still debated today. Some believe she died of influenza, others from ovarian cancer, some from uterine cancer, and others argue that she quite literally died of sorrow. I am not a physician, so I cannot discuss her symptoms from a medical perspective or determine which illness they point to. I can only share my own thoughts.

Mary is generally described as having been a healthy child. She was the only one of six siblings to survive into adulthood. In everything I have read, I have never come across any suggestion that she was a sickly child. However, that eventually changed. It has often been suggested that the turning point for Mary’s health was Henry VIII’s “Great Matter,” and I tend to agree.

For a child, watching her father try to cast aside her mother, declare her illegitimate, and hand everything that had belonged to her mother over to another woman must have been devastating. Mary’s first well-documented serious illness occurred in the summer of 1531—coincidentally, the same year she would see her mother for the last time. Contemporary reports state that she became gravely ill. The French ambassador described her condition as an “emotional outburst,” while later accounts referred to it as a “hysterical crisis.”

It is also believed that Mary experienced her first menstruation around this time. I had assumed that beginning menstruation at the age of fifteen would have been considered normal in the sixteenth century, but apparently many contemporaries did not see it that way. Mary was also said to look younger than her age. Years later, when she was around twenty-two or twenty-four, the French ambassador again remarked that she looked no older than eighteen.

(Reading this reminded me that, by contrast, later in life Mary was described as looking older than her years when she was only thirty-seven.)

We all know the immense pressure Mary endured between 1533 and 1536, so I will not go into detail here. As a result of these experiences, she frequently fell into deep melancholy, cried often, and suffered from irregular menstruation. She was in an extremely poor psychological state, and the long-lasting impact of these events can still be seen in a letter she wrote to Philip one year before her death, as well as in a report written by the Venetian ambassador during the same period. Mary never truly recovered from the trauma those years left behind. Mary never forgot the three years of abuse she endured: being demoted from the sole heir to the throne to a lady-in-waiting to a newborn infant, watching everything that had once belonged to her be taken away and given to that child, and enduring the insults and cruelty inflicted upon her by Lady Shelton and several others in the household where she was kept… Nor did she ever forget the insults that had been heaped upon her mother.

Even before 1558, Mary was chronically unwell. She struggled with menstrual problems, poor eyesight, toothaches, frequent headaches, and persistent melancholy. One ambassador even wrote in 1555 that, after Mary’s pregnancy proved to be false and Philip left England, she fell into such profound emotional despair that, had it not been considered such a grave sin, she might have taken her own life.

In 1558, Mary experienced what appears to have been another false pregnancy. Unlike the one in 1555, however, her abdomen did not return to its previous size afterward. This can even be seen in the funeral effigy made after her death, which I shared in the accompanying images. Throughout her youth—and indeed until this final pregnancy—Mary was frequently described as a slender woman. It also seems that she struggled with eating. Yet the effigy clearly shows a swollen abdomen.

Around the same time, England was struck by a severe influenza epidemic that claimed the lives of many members of Mary’s Catholic circle. Sources state that Mary fell ill toward the end of August and that her condition fluctuated over the following months, sometimes improving before worsening again. I hardly need to mention that her emotional state was equally fragile.

In January, Calais was lost. To understand how deeply this affected Mary, it is enough to recall the famous remark she reportedly made to one of her ladies-in-waiting shortly before her death—that when she died and her heart was opened, the word Calais would be found written upon it. That same year she also lost all hope of producing a Catholic heir and finally came to accept that she would never become a mother, despite how desperately she had longed for it. Two months before her death, Emperor Charles V, whom she often referred to as being like a father to her, died. Just one month later, Mary of Hungary, whom she regarded almost as a mother, also passed away.

It seems entirely possible that these losses further weakened both her physical and emotional health.
After Mary’s death, I read several reports written by contemporaries, and I came across some claims that surprised me.

The first was that some English people believed Philip himself had played a role in Mary’s death. At the end of November, the Spanish ambassador wrote: “They say, and also that through your not coming to see the Queen our lady, she died of sorrow.”

Later, in another letter, he wrote:
“The physician I brought from Amiens afterwards told me that he was not at all satisfied with this man, but he told me also that he (Dr. Causar) and the Lord Chamberlain blamed your Majesty(Philip)very much for not coming here.”

(I don’t mean to be rude, but every time I read these reports I cannot help thinking that Mary would have been better off marrying a piece of firewood than Philip. Even a log would probably have made a better husband for her. Anyway, moving on.)

Another theory surrounding Mary’s death is that she was poisoned. This possibility also appears in the ambassador’s correspondence:
“The duke of Alba writes me that French people have told him that the Queen died on the 15th: “that the physician who attended her had written this to the King (of France) and told him what her malady was. The following is what has occurred.
When I was here before, the Queen had three physicians, all Englishmen.
Two of them died this summer, and the remaining one was a very worthy old man, named Dr. Wuit, who is married to Paget’s mother-in-law, and when the Queen’s malady became worse she caused a Dr. Caesar, who is here, to be called in ; the same who attended Courtney’s mother, who died in Venice, and he thus became known to the Queen. He is a young fellow, a hair-brained busybody, and when I saw him in the chamber on my arrival this time I noticed him at once, and asked who had introduced him there.
They told me the Queen herself had summoned him, and as her bodily condition gave no hope, I did not proceed further in the matter. Although the Amiens man could not say for certain, yet, when Her Majesty was opened, he thought that indications existed in the body to give ground for belief that something noxious had been administered.
I have thought whether with this and what the duke now writes we had better lay our hands on this man, but I am afraid that if anything is said to the Queen (Elizabeth) about it she would be more likely to reward than to punish him.
Let me know your Majesty’s wishes on the subject. I believe he is a vassal of the Pope or the duke of Urbino.”

Personally, however, I think accusations of poisoning had become almost routine whenever a monarch died. When Edward VI died, for example, the Duke of Northumberland was likewise accused of poisoning him. I sometimes wonder whether every ruler was eventually the subject of the same rumor.

For me, Mary’s long history of gynecological problems, her persistently swollen abdomen, and the fact that her grandmother Isabella died of uterine cancer make the theory that Mary herself died of a gynecological cancer seem particularly plausible.

At the same time, I also believe that her deteriorating mental health likely played a significant role in her final decline.
But the truth is that we will probably never know the real cause of her death. And perhaps that uncertainty is one of the things that makes history so fascinating.

Thank you for reading these rather unstructured thoughts that do not really lead to any firm conclusion. As always, thank you for your time, and I wish you all the very best.

Today I’d like to share with you an incident from Mary’s life that I find rather amusing.

In the early months of 1554, Mary and Philip’s marriage had been arranged, and a Spanish delegation arrived in England to approve the agreement and present its terms. We can probably assume that Mary did not enjoy discussing matters concerning her marriage with the men of her Privy Council or with the ambassadors. She was quite shy about the subject.

For that reason, the Council and the ambassadors handled the negotiations. Once part of the business had been settled, Queen Mary invited the Spanish ambassadors to attend the Epiphany (Twelfth Night) service in the chapel and then dine with her. The ambassadors accepted the invitation.

As the meal was drawing to a close, William Howard, who had been dining in another room, entered. He stood before the Queen, who was seated on her throne and lost in thought, and said a few words to her in English. He then turned to the Spanish ambassadors and asked whether they wished to know what he had said to the Queen.

Although Queen Mary tried to silence William Howard, she was unsuccessful. Howard then pointed to the Queen’s right-hand side (the report does not mention what was there, although it may have been a chair. The King traditionally sat at the Queen’s right.) and said that he wished the Prince were sitting there at that very moment to take the Queen’s mind off her thoughts and sorrows.

Mary blushed and asked Howard why he had said such a thing. Howard replied that he knew the Queen was not angry with him and that he knew she had received his words with pleasure. At that, Queen Mary began to laugh, and the whole company laughed with her. The ambassadors note in their report that the incident was very well received.

I mentioned William Howard in an earlier post as well. This is the very same William Howard who once referred to Francis Neville as “my sweet little whore.” Whether intentionally or not, I think he rather enjoyed embarrassing Mary.

472 years ago around this time, Mary was eagerly waiting for Philip to arrive in England. She had prepared gifts for him and had beautiful gowns made for the occasion. Because the marriage is generally remembered for how it eventually ended, it is often viewed negatively. Personally, however, I enjoy reading about Mary’s excitement during this period.

The incident I have described is recorded in the ambassadors’ report dated 7 January 1554.

As you already know, the first image shows Queen Mary. This portrait was probably painted in 1554, most likely before the wedding, and was presented as a gift to someone—perhaps even Philip. I have seen a photograph of the original, and it is incredibly small, which makes it quite likely that it was intended as a gift.

I also think there is something that sets this portrait apart from other Tudor portraits. Just look at it—Mary is almost smiling. It is such a warm and approachable portrait.

The second image is a portrait of William Howard, who was made a Knight of the Order of the Garter by Queen Mary in 1554.

Thank you all for reading. Sending my love to you all.

On 9 July 1553, exactly 473 years ago today, several important events took place in Tudor history.
Today, Princess Mary—perhaps even yesterday—declared herself queen after the death of her brother, King Edward, had been confirmed. She wrote letters to the Privy Council and to Sir Edward Hastings.

The Imperial ambassadors described the event as follows:

“By way of news received since our last letter, we have heard that the Lady Mary, in spite of the considerations we submitted to her, has caused herself to be proclaimed Queen in Norfolk, and is continuing to do so in the neighbouring districts, both verbally and by means of letters. She has also written letters to the Council, which they received yesterday, declaring herself Queen. We have been told that when the letters arrived the Council were at table, and were greatly astonished and troubled. The Duchesses of Suffolk and Northumberland, it is said, began to lament and weep, whereat the Council commanded my Lord Grey to go and bring in the Lady Mary.”

The Emperor did not believe Mary had any chance of succeeding. He did not think she could win and had instructed his ambassadors not to interfere in any way.

In the letter Mary sent to the Council—signed at the bottom as “Marye the Quene”—she wrote:

My lords, we greet you well and have received sure advertisement that our dearest brother the King and late sovereign lord is departed to God. Marry, which news, how they be woeful unto our hearts, He wholly knoweth to whose will and pleasure we must and do humbly submit us and our will.
But in this lamentable case, that is to wit now after his departure and death, concerning the Crown and governance of this Realm of England with the title of France and all things thereunto belonging, what has been provided by act of Parliament and the testament and last will of our death father – beside other circumstances advancing our right – the Realm know and all the world knoweth. The rolls and records appear by authority of the king our said father and the king our said brother and the subjects of this Realm, as we verily trust that there is no good true subject that is or can or will pretend to be ignorant hereof. And of our part, as God shall aid and strengthen us, we have ourselves caused and shall cause our right and title in this behalf to be published and proclaimed accordingly.
And, albeit this manner being so weighty, the manner seemeth strange that our said brother, dying upon Thursday at night last past, we hitherto had no knowledge from you thereof. Yet we considered your wisdoms and prudence to be such that having eftsoon among you debated, pondered, and well weighed this present case with our estate and your estate, the commonwealth, and all your honours, we shall and may conceive great hope and trust and much assurance in your loyalty and service, and that you will like noble men work the best.

Nevertheless, we are not ignorant of your consultations and provisions forcible, there with you assembled and prepared – by whom and to what end God and you know, and nature can but fear some evil. But be it that some consideration politic of some whatsoever reason hath hastily moved you thereto, yet doubt you not, my lords, we can take all these your doings in gracious part, being also right ready to remit and fully pardon the same freely, to eschew blood-shed and vengeance of those that can or will amend. Trusting also assuredly you will take and accept this grace and virtue in such good part as appeareth, and that we shall not be enforced to use the service of other our true subjects and friends which in this our just and rightful cause God, in whom our final affiance is, shall send us.
Wherefore, my lords, we require you and charge you, for that our allegiance which you owe to God and us, that, for your honour and the surety of your persons, you employ your selves and forthwith upon receipt hereof cause our right and title to the Crown and government of this realm to be proclaimed in our City of London and such other places as to your wisdoms shall seem good and as to this case appertaineth, not failing hereof, as our very trust is in you. And this letter signed with our hand shall be your sufficient warrant.
Given under our sign at our Manor of Kenninghall the 9th July 1553.”

On the same day, the Duke of Northumberland informed Lady Jane Grey that she was queen. Jane had been ill for some time and was staying at Syon House while recovering. There are various accounts of her initial reaction, but it is entirely possible that she had already sensed that something significant was about to happen.

Also on that day, Nicholas Ridley—later one of the most famous Protestant martyrs burned at the stake during Mary’s reign—preached a sermon declaring that both Mary and Elizabeth were bastard.

Moments like these are always exciting to imagine. I wish there were a television series about Mary so that we could watch the events we’ve been reading about come to life on screen. I’m sure it would be incredibly exciting.

Thank you all so much for reading. Sending my love to each of you!

*The first image depicts Queen Mary’s entry into London.
*The second image shows the moment when Lady Jane Grey is informed that she is now queen.
*The third image features Nicholas Ridley alongside Princess Mary.
*The fourth image is the letter Mary wrote to Edward Hastings.
*One final detail that I find particularly fascinating: Mary spelled her name as “Marye” in her letters, and the word “queen” was commonly written as “quene” in Tudor English.

Today I’d like to tell you about a relationship that I found quite interesting when I read about it.

William Parr was the brother of the late Queen Catherine Parr. We don’t know what kind of relationship he and Mary had before Mary came to the throne, but we can safely say that it was certainly not a good one. During Edward VI’s reign, the Catholic Mary and the Protestant faction at court were far from friendly.

William was a committed Protestant and held a high position at court throughout Edward VI’s reign, serving in several important offices. By 1553, when Mary asserted her claim to the throne, William became one of the leading supporters of Lady Jane Grey’s claim instead.

Historian Leanda de Lisle even suggests that William may have been the person who arranged the marriage between Lady Jane Grey and Guildford Dudley.

This also suggests that he had a close relationship with John Dudley. Another indication of their closeness is that John Dudley’s wife, Jane Dudley, left a bequest to William’s wife in her will.

Things, however, did not go as they had planned. The crown went not to Jane, but to Mary.

William was tried for high treason, stripped of his honours and titles, and sentenced to death. Yet he was never executed and was eventually released. Despite openly opposing Mary’s claim to the throne, she chose not to have him put to death. Perhaps Catherine Parr’s memory played some role in that decision—but we can never know for certain.

If you think Mary completely forgave him, however, you would be mistaken.

Mary arranged a rather inexpensive marriage for him. She restored his first marriage to Anne Bourchier—which had been annulled in 1543—and declared his second marriage, contracted in 1548, invalid on 5 December 1553.

William was first married to Anne Bourchier. Their marriage, however, is said to have been troubled from the beginning. In 1541, Anne ran away with her lover and later gave birth to his illegitimate child.
Since the child was born while Anne was still legally married to William, he was technically considered Parr’s heir. Disturbed by this, William sought an annulment of the marriage on the grounds of Anne’s adultery. Most likely with the assistance of his sister, Catherine Parr, the marriage was annulled in 1543.
It is fair to say that Anne was not particularly pleased with this outcome, as it significantly worsened her financial situation.

In 1548, William married Elisabeth Brooke, who was also a Protestant. Toward the end of 1553, her marriage to William was declared invalid. Nevertheless, during Mary’s reign, Elisabeth was granted a pension.

Elisabeth Brooke belonged to an extensive network of influential relatives. She was a cousin of Thomas Wyatt, the leader of Wyatt’s Rebellion. She was also related to Princess Elizabeth and had been one of her close friends for many years.

During Mary’s reign, Elisabeth secretly maintained contact with the French ambassador, whose government continually sought to remove Mary from the throne. The ambassador even recruited Elisabeth’s brother, George, as an informant. When the French wished to send messages to Princess Elizabeth, they often did so through Elisabeth Brooke. She has also been accused of participating in conspiracies on Princess Elizabeth’s behalf.

In either 1553 or 1554, William’s marriage to Anne was officially restored.

The most interesting part of the story is that Anne herself welcomed this decision. With the restoration of the marriage, she once again received income and took up residence at the royal court. She left court after Elizabeth came to the throne.

Given Mary’s well-known religious devotion, it is something of a mystery that she accepted into her court a woman who had committed adultery and borne an illegitimate child as a result.

After Mary’s death, Anne and William’s marriage was once again annulled. William was restored to court, recovered his estates, and his marriage to Elisabeth Brooke was once again recognized as valid.

Elisabeth Brooke remained one of Queen Elizabeth I’s closest friends until her death in 1565. William later married for a third time in 1571 but died shortly afterward.

Sometimes I find wondering what might have happened if Catherine Parr had still been alive during Mary’s reign.

Thank you for reading! Sending my love to you all.

(A note: In the Parliament of 1542, Anne’s child by her lover was declared illegitimate. I wrote that the marriage was annulled in 1543, but I could not find this in the parliamentary records when I looked through them. I may simply have overlooked it.
William and Elizabeth married in 1548, although some sources give the date as 1547. There was no issue with the marriage itself. In 1552, an Act of Parliament confirmed the legitimacy of their marriage.)

“If you don’t find a remedy to these evils, it is a vain thing to boast of your severity in punishing theft, which though it may have the appearance of justice, yet in itself is neither just nor convenient. For if you suffer your people to be ill-educated and their manners to be corrupted from their infancy and then punish them for those crimes for which their first education disposes them, what else is to be concluded from this but that you first make thieves and then punish them?”

-Utopia, Thomas More

To some, Thomas More was a saint; to others, he was a reactionary. What I think, however, is that his death was a preview of the cruelties Henry would later commit. The caption says that the woman in the portrait is his daughter. Although it does not specify which daughter, I believe it is Margaret. Margaret bribed the official to obtain her father's severed head.

A small note: Margaret's daughter—and therefore Thomas More's granddaughter—Mary Basset served as a gentlewoman of Queen Mary's privy chamber. She translated works from Greek into English and dedicated one of her translations to Queen Mary.

The Meeting of Sir Thomas More with his Daughter after his Sentence of Death, by W. F. Yeames. 1863

The year 1553 was a time of succession crisis in England.

473 years ago today, King Edward VI died after a long illness. It is said that he died in Henry Sidney’s arms, and that his last words were, “I am faint; Lord have mercy upon me, and take my spirit.”

King Edward’s death was kept from the public for three days, although this does not seem to have been very successful. The Imperial ambassador wrote on 7 July:

“The following morning, as we were making ready to send to demand audience of the King, we were informed that his Majesty had died between eight and nine o'clock on the evening of the 6th.”

King Edward left behind a succession crisis that would last for thirteen days. Today we know how that crisis ended, but at the time, the outcome was completely uncertain.

The document prepared by King Edward regarding the succession reads as follows:

“My devise for the Succession

1. For lakke of issu [masle inserted above the line, but afterwards crossed out] of my body [to the issu (masle above the line) cumming of thissu femal, as i have after declared inserted, but crossed out]. To the L Franceses heires masles, [For lakke of erased] [if she have any inserted] such issu [befor my death inserted] to the L' Janes [and her inserted] heires masles, To the L Katerins heires masles, To the L Maries heires masles, To the heires masles of the daughters wich she shal haue hereafter. Then to the L Margets heires masles. For lakke of such issu, To th'eires masles of the L Janes daughters. To th'eires masles of the L Katerins daughters, and so forth til yow come to the L Margets [daughters inserted] heires masles.

2. If after my death theire masle be entred into 18 yere old, then he to have the hole rule and gouernauce therof.

3. But if he be under 18, then his mother to be gouuernres til he entre 18 yere old, But to doe nothing w'out th'auise (and agremet inserted) of 6 parcel of a counsel to be pointed by my last will to the nombre of 20.

4. If the mother die befor th'eire entre into 18 the realme to be gouuerned by the cousel Prouided that after he be 14 yere al great matters of importaunce be opened to him.

5. If i died w'out issu, and there were none heire masle, then the L Fraunces to be (reget altered to) gouuernres. For lakke of her, the her eldest daughters,4 and for lakke of them the L Marget to be gouuernres after as is aforsaid, til sume heire masle be borne, and then the mother of that child to be gouuernres.

6. And if during the rule of the gouuernres ther die 4 of the counsel, then shal she by her letters cal an asseble of the counsel w'in on month folowing and chose 4 more, wherin she shal haue thre uoices. But after her death the 16 shal chose emong themselfes til th'eire come to (18 erased) 14 yeare olde, and then he by ther aduice shal chose them" (1553).
   — Edward VI, Devise for the Succession”

Who actually wrote this document, whether it was written entirely by Edward himself, and exactly when it was drafted have all been subjects of historical debate.
I believe Edward wrote this document entirely on his own, without anyone else's guidance. He is often portrayed as being constantly under the influence of others (such as Edward Seymour or John Dudley), but I disagree—he was highly determined and knew exactly what he wanted.

Thank you for reading!