Showing posts with label Renaissance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Renaissance. Show all posts

Thursday, 2 August 2018

A Queen in Shadow - a look back through time to Anne Boleyn and her daughter, Elizabeth

The Hever Portrait


The subject to Anne Boleyn’s true physical appearance has been discussed time and time again in books, blogs and journals, yet it is a subject that remains endlessly fascinating, the varied opinions and theories almost as intriguing as the woman herself.

Almost instantly recognisable, Anne Boleyn’s portrait graces thousands of book covers, mugs, tea towels, key rings…her face is everywhere. But is it really her face that we are seeing? Do the portraits show us what was Anne really like?

I don’t intend to hold a full debate on the portraits here but none we have are contemporary and the closest  are copies made of likenesses painted in her life time.

 
National Portrait Gallery

After her execution it wasn’t wise to have representations of a fallen queen gracing one’s walls so during the remainder of Henry’s reign and the years of Edward and Mary’s rule, her face and many artefacts belonging to her, slipped away. It wasn’t until her daughter, Elizabeth, ascended the throne that Anne became acceptable again and the demand for her image increased. As a consequence most extant images were worked long after her death – some as late as the 17th century.

The likenesses attributed to be her range from softly pretty to plum ugly as do the textual descriptions. Opinions of Anne Boleyn depended enormously upon the political stance and agenda of the author and as a consequence the documentary evidence is as varied and unreliable as the pictorial.

Due to her efforts for religious reform and the displacement of Catherine of Aragon, Anne was never a favourite of Spain or the Catholic faction and this is clear from some of the descriptions of her. Roman Catholic Nicholas Sander saw her as: ‘…rather tall of stature, with black hair and an oval face of sallow complexion, as if troubled with jaundice. She had a projecting tooth under the upper lip, and on her right hand, six fingers. There was a large wen under her chin, and therefore to hide its ugliness, she wore a high dress covering her throat. In this she was followed by the ladies of the court, who also wore high dresses, having before been in the habit of leaving their necks and the upper portion of their persons uncovered. She was handsome to look at, with a pretty mouth.’

Very nice of him to go to the trouble of saying so. And the Venetian ambassador was scarcely more flattering in his account.

‘Madame Anne is not one of the handsomest women in the world. She is of middling stature, swarthy complexion, long neck, wide mouth, bosom not much raised, and in fact has nothing but the King's great appetite, and her eyes, which are black and beautiful - and take great effect on those who served the Queen when she was on the throne. She lives like a queen, and the King accompanies her to Mass - and everywhere.’

 
The Nidd Hall Portrait
It is quite clear that she was not a ravishing beauty although of course, what is considered beautiful today is vastly different to that favoured in the 16th century. If you look at the line-up of Henry’s wives, the ‘Flanders Mare’ of Henry’s stable, Anne of Cleves, was by today’s standards, rather pretty.  

In a society that favoured delicately complexioned blondes, Anne’s dark hair and olive skin were far from fashionable and neither did her slim, small breasted (‘not much raised’) figure fit the current vogue for voluptuous women.

But most descriptions, even the most unfavourable, agree that Anne possessed expressive eyes and a vivacious wit and it must have been those attributes that captivated the king. Which, for once I think, speaks  rather well of Henry in that he was able to see past contemporary ideals to what lay beneath. Shame it didn’t last.

The only truly contemporary image we have of Anne is a badly damaged portrait medal that nevertheless bears some resemblance to the Anne we see depicted in later portraits.  From this we can deduce that we can come quite close to discovering a likeness to the real woman.
 
Princess Elizabeth (later Queen)
The medal was struck in 1534 with Anne’s motto, ‘The Most Happi’ and the initials ‘A.R’ – Anna Regina, so we can be quite sure that it is her. These medals were usually struck to commemorate a great event, often a coronation but since the date does not tie in with this, Eric Ives believes that it was more likely to have been intended to mark birth of Anne’s second child in the autumn of 1534 that she miscarried. This theory also explains why few copies survive.
 
The Anne Boleyn Medal
Other portraits include the familiar Hever portrait and the one at the National Portrait Gallery as well as some sketches by Holbein which receive varying degrees of certainty from the experts. The Nidd Hall portrait shows an aging Anne which is closer to some of the less favourable documented descriptions discussed previously. Another rather touching artefact is the Chequers Ring, a jewel removed from the finger of Elizabeth I on her death bed and found to contain the image of herself and her mother, Anne.
 
The Drew Portrait of Elizabeth I

Of course, we can never know the extent of Elizabeth’s attachment to her mother but some documented incidents point to a curiosity about her. Although Elizabeth was just two years old when Anne was executed and is not likely to have had strong memories of her, there were those around her who had known Anne and would have been able to keep her memory alive. If Elizabeth was satisfied that the image bore a likeness to her mother then I think we can be fairly confident too.

The recent (and not so recent) discussions of Anne’s appearance have led to the assumption that she and her daughter bore a close resemblance. Apart from Elizabeth’s colouring which was auburn and Tudor in origin, there are likenesses to Anne, especially in the earlier portraits before Royal iconography began to overshadow Elizabeth’s personality. The dark eyes are particularly similar.
 
NPG Margaret Beaufort - Grandmother to Elizabeth I

I spend a lot of time looking at paintings of historical figures and it has always struck me that in later life Elizabeth closely resembled her great grandmother. I suppose it should come as no surprise that there is also a look of Henry VII, Elizabeth’s grandfather.  Perhaps there is more Tudor in Elizabeth than we thought.


The Kiss of the Concubine: a story of Anne Boleyn is now available in paperback, kindle and also as an audiobook. To celebrate the new audio format I have a few FREE codes for audible members. You can also use it to make your first purchase when you take out a FREE three month trial of audible.

Contact me via messenger or email for FREE Codes.



Sunday, 21 January 2018

Giveaway! Sexuality and its Impact on British History

I am delighted to offer TWO  copies of Sexuality and its Impact on British History - the British Stripped Bare. 

Eight authors: Annie Whitehead, Gayle Hulme, Hunter S Jones, Dr Beth Lynne, Emma Haddon-wright, Jessica Cale, Mary Ann Coleman and myself examine the impact of actual or implied sexual relationships on British history.

In my contribution to the anthology I delve deeply into the poetry of Thomas Wyatt, examine the events surrounding the arrest of Anne Boleyn and those accused alongside her, and consider Wyatt’s part in it.



Sexuality and its Impact on History chronicles the impact of romance and sex from the time of the Anglo-Saxons, through medieval and Tudor courtly love tradition to the Victorian era. It is due for publication in March 2018 by Pen and Sword Books.

For the chance of winning a copy please leave a comment below about why you'd like to be among the lucky winners. Your copy will be sent out on publication day -  30th March 2018. 

View on Amazon

Wednesday, 1 April 2015

Tudor England and a Tortured Writer




Nancy Bilyeau
 
My friend Sandy Morgan is one of the people I test things out on. She’s a fanatical reader of mysteries and thrillers, from P.D. James to Anne Perry. So while visiting her in late 2011, I showed her a draft of the jacket copy for my first novel, The Crown.
She was smiling as she read the jacket copy—good!—until she reached a certain sentence and then she frowned—bad!—and finally even recoiled. “You don’t have torture in your book, do you?” she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

My novels, The Crown, The Chalice, and The Tapestry, are set in England in the late 1530s and early 1540s, during the tumultuous time when Henry VIII broke from the Church of England because the Pope would not grant him a divorce. The protagonist of the books is Sister Joanna Stafford, who took novice vows at a Dominican priory in Kent.  This was a violent transition that led to rebellion (the Pilgrimage of Grace), executions for treason (Sir Thomas More and Cardinal John Fisher), martyrdoms (the Carthusian monks) and a diaspora of nuns, monks, and friars, forcibly ejected from their homes.

And yes, during this period in English history, there was torture, primarily inflicted within the thick walls of the Tower of London. Today’s visitors can see a curated room devoted to the fearsome rack and other devices. It’s quite clearly part of the draw of the Tower, a huge tourist attraction.
The records from history make grim, shocking reading. Before Henry VIII broke with Rome, he was one of the many people in England who respected and revered the Carthusian monks of The Charterhouse in London. This was a special place: the monks lived in small individual cells, rarely speaking, spending their days praying, meditating, and writing. Henry VIII was anxious to obtain the approval of the Carthusians to his religious revolution—that he, the monarch, would be the head of the Church of England and all must take a vow of obedience to his supremacy. But the Carthusians refused to take the vow, and, despite pressure, continued to refuse. In response, they were, in groups over a period of three years, hanged, drawn and quartered, or starved to death while chained to a pillar in the Tower of London. This is the reality of Henry Tudor, a far cry from the romantic bed hopper of popular culture.

My character, Joanna Stafford, is imprisoned in the Tower of London for several months in The Crown, suspected of treason and religious-driven rebellion—the very reasons that put prisoners in the hands of the torturer. So would I incorporate any scenes of it into my books, observed or endured? I struggled with this day and night.

What makes it even more challenging for me is that I personally can’t handle viewing torture and slasher gore in films. I thought that Casino Royale was ruined by Bond’s gratuitous torture. I’ve never seen any of the Saw, Friday the 13th or Nightmare on Elm Street movies.
My books are thrillers but they are also historical fiction, based on years of research. I feel it is critically important not to romanticize the era. And so I did write a short scene, based on contemporary documents and completely driven by character, that includes torture observed in the Tower. And yet, when my friend Sandy looked at me so sadly, I asked my editor at Touchstone/Simon&Schuster to remove reference to it in the jacket copy. I didn’t want to scare off potential Sandy’s. When she eventually read the entire novel, she made no objection to that passage. It was part of the plot; it didn’t repel her.

But there’s another dimension: I blog quite a bit about the historical period in which I set my novels. One post for English Historical Fiction Authors, titled Little Ease: Torture and the Tudors, has more than 11,000 views as of this week. I am not sure what to make of this.  Will many readers actually be drawn to my book because of the violent underbelly of the glamorous Tudor age?  Should I have left that reference to torture on the jacket copy?

I continued to wrestle with these questions, of how much torture and violence to include in my novels. Sometimes I thought about the first novels set in Tudor England I ever read, The Concubine by Norah Lofts and The Sixth Wife, by Jean Plaidy. As much as I adored those writers, the motor of their plots was romantic, not political or theological. They weren’t writing thrillers, certainly. Yet their works were enduring classics.

Norah Lofts, Jean Plaidy and the other historical novelists I respect wrote in a different era, however. C.J. Sansom does not shy away from the violence of the Tudor era in his fine series of mysteries. And Hilary Mantel takes on the question of torture in Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies. The fact that she focuses on Sir Thomas More’s torture of suspected evangelical heretics and completely omits Henry VIII’s sanction of the torture of the Catholics who opposed him—such as the Carthusian monks, who were hanged, drawn and quartered—has brought her criticism. 

In my second book, The Chalice, there are scenes of violence, as Joanna witnesses the victims to Henry VIII and Cromwell. However, most of the tension is psychological. And the book went on to win the Romantic Times Reviewers Award last year for Best Historical Mystery.
The Chalice was also given the “Soft-Boiled Egg” Award from NYC’s Mysterious Bookshop.  The bookshop’s definition: “These are the best in traditional, historical and romantic suspense titles.  Death, yes, but violence plays a very small part in these stories which concentrate more on the character development of those who solve the murders.”

Had I gone Soft-Boiled? Some people have asked if my novels could fit into the category of “cozy mystery,” a genre in which sex and violence are downplayed or treated humorously. Despite my second book having won the RT award, there is no sex in my books, just a great deal of sexual tension. So yes to part of that description. But violence? I certainly don’t wallow in it. Still…there is nothing cozy about the rack, so I fear I may have to say no to inclusion.

In The Tapestry, Joanna Stafford is pulled into the court itself, reluctantly presenting herself to Henry VIII at Whitehall in April 1540. I very deliberately chose that month, for it is when Thomas Cromwell, Joanna’s nemesis, is made earl of Essex and the tensions among the power players at court reach critical boil. The factions are battling to the death. That summer Cromwell lost and was executed at the Tower of London in one of the most harrowing beheadings of the entire Tudor period. And a day later, six men of different religious faiths were executed.
I couldn’t shy away from the true events—they were crucial in the life of my main character. Yet I could not subject my readers to the full gruesomeness, either. 

I decided to portray those bloody days, as I had many others in the mid-16th century, through the eyes of Joanna Stafford, to draw on her horror and fear but also her pity and ultimately her compassion.
I hope that these are the decisions that would make even my friend Sandy proud.


Nancy Bilyeau is the author of The Crown, The Chalice and The Tapestry. On March 24, 2015, The Tapestry was published in North America and the United Kingdom. For more information, go to www.nancybilyeau.com

America buy link: http://amzn.to/1FP4UoK
UK buy link: http://amzn.to/1EE811d