#catherine dower

[toomanylegos]

I need more incorrect quotes.

Please 🙏

How can I say no to a request so polite?

Hold on, let me fetch more for you-

Kal: Hey Leo. I'm here to pick up Jude. Some things changed around and our mission got moved up.

Leo: ...what?

Kal: Jude. He said he was hanging out with you today.

Leo, growing confused: No. I called him to see if he wanted to hang out cause David said he'd be hanging out with you today, but Jude said he was busy.

Kal, suspicion: ...David said he was with me?

Leo: Yeah. So, I would like to know what the plum fuck is going on.

Kal, sinking realization: ...has Jude or David said anything about a "research project" lately?

Leo, letting terrible realization roll over him: ......

Leo: oh sweet Mary mother of God

-

Jude: Alright, how many of those private messaging forums have you gotten into?

David, glasses glinting in mischief: All of them

Jude, smirking devilishly: Oh-hohoho this is going to be beautif-

Leo, busting into the room: ARE YOU TWO HACKING INTO GOVERNMENT FILES AGAIN!?

Jude: Leo, listen! Corruption needs to be uncovered! The people need to know!

David: Justice must be served!

Leo, in a panic over being on a watch list now: THIS IS ILLEGAL!! THIS IS SO MANY LEVELS OF ILLEGAL!!!

Jude, releasing dubious government files: PUBLIC CONDEMNATION!!!

David, popping champagne: JUSTICE!!!

Give me a moment, I have another one in the back

Elizabeth: Fine, but we're having salad for dinner.

Alexander, disappointed: But Ivani said we're having burgers.

Elizabeth: If Ivani jumped off a cliff, would you?

Alexander: [dead staring at the middle distance in deep thought]

Elizabeth, in shock: Alexander!

Alexander, stuttering like mad: I- uh- well-

Alexander: I mean it depends!

Elizabeth, scoldingly: Don't! Jump off! A cliff!

Alexander: Well I wasn't planning on it...

Elizabeth: But if Ivani jumped you would?!

Alexander: [EVEN HARDER STARE AT THE MIDDLE DISTANCE]

Elizabeth, shock x2: ALEXANDER!!!

Aaaaaand one more as a treat! 😘

Alice: Hi! Welcome to Applebee's! Would you like apples or bees? : )

Phoenix, hesitantly: B-Bees?

Alice: SHE HAS SELECTED THE BEES

Phoenix: Wa-Wait-

Alexei & Catherine, walking in with a jar of bees: >:)

Phoenix, in horror: WAIT-

[richmond-rex]

Hi so I have a couple questions on young Henry VIII and Henry VII that I haven't seen addressed in any Henry VII biographies. First do we know why Henry VII didn't marry again to try to have more sons after Arthur and EOY died? Was it just because of his grief over the loss of his wife do you think? Or something else?

Also why didn't Henry VII marry Henry VIII to someone before he himself died? I know they originally got the papal dispensation for Catherine of Aragon to marry young Prince Henry but than the betrothal was broken off after Queen Isabella died. I believe Henry VII began looking into a betrothal with Eleanor of Austria (her niece) and Queen Juana and Philip the Handsome's daughter after that. Do we know why he didn't pursue this further? This seems like it would have been a more ideal match given the similarity in their ages.

Hello! Sorry for taking so long to reply, I haven't had much access to my computer after working hours. The answer to your questions are kind of complex-y. Henry VII did try to marry after Elizabeth of York died, though closer inspection to what evidence we have is that he took at least a year and a half before considering taking another wife (the diplomatic correspondence also seems to coincide with the period when colourful clothes returned to his wardrobe). We don't have access to his thoughts and motivations — we don't know if his council persuaded him to overcome his grief or if he made up his mind himself after overcoming a period of mourning — but the main motivation for remarriage seems to have been diplomatic/trade alliances and economic advantages, far more so than companioship or even having new children.

Henry could have easily have married Ferdinand of Aragon's niece (the dowager queen of Naples) but the advantages she could have brought in terms of dowry and pre-existing dower, trade deals and diplomatic alliances must not have been very high. He seems to have been far more interested in marrying Margaret of Austria, dowager Duchess of Savoy and the Holy Emperor's only daughter. Their marriage would have been part of an incredibly lucrative trade deal with Burgundy (as negotiated with her brother Philip the Handsome before he died) and would have brought Henry closer to her charge, her nephew the future Charles V who was to rule Burgundy AND Spain, and who Henry envisioned for his own daughter Mary.

Another alternative that was of interest to Henry was Juana of Spain who, again, would have brought him closer to her son Charles and who could maybe even bring him the quasi-regency of Spain if Henry was successful enough in divesting her father Ferdinand, who by that time Henry was at odds with (Henry did enquire into Ferdinand's control grip in Spain and whether he was still popular there). Henry pursued Juana's hand at the same time that he pursued Margaret of Austria's so I disagree when historians say he was truly 'in love' with either of these women.

All of this is to say that diplomatic game of chess seems to have been of far more interest to Henry than having other heirs, otherwise he could have easily accepted Ferdinand's niece in 1504 and gotten new children by 1505/6. Having new heirs also seems at odds with his pursuing of Margaret of Austria who had been married twice (technically thrice but the first marriage wasn't consummated) and had not have living issue despite those marriages. Margaret even wrote to her father expressing her fear that her inability to have children would displease a new husband, but surely Henry must have been aware of her record and decided that the other economic and diplomatic advantages of that union would be enough.

This is why I don't agree when historians say Henry VIII got his all-consuming fear of having no heirs from his father when that father seems to have elected having new heirs as a second priority over diplomacy and trade deals (granted, he still had three living children and his son didn't). I'm of the opinion that Henry VII did not want his son to marry Catherine of Aragon because of deteriorating relations with her father Ferdinand (if not because of religious reasons as well). The reason he didn't get to marry his son to some other foreign bride were diplomatic imo — he barely lived long enough to see his daughter's betrothal to the future Charles V, let alone be successful in marrying his heir, the most important chess piece in his diplomatic relations.

Marguerite of Angouleme seems to have been considered for Prince Henry but Henry VII didn't live long enough to drive the necessary wedge between the French king Louis XII and Ferdinand — they had become allies thanks to Ferdinand's marriage to Germaine of Foix. Ferdinand spared no effort to make Louis XII understand he'd see any marriage talk to Prince Henry as an act of disrespect against himself and his daughter Catherine. Eleanor of Austria was also considered as you said, but Henry VII seems to have prioritising securing Eleanor's brother Charles as a son-in-law first (and securing that betrothal took much longer than expected thanks to Ferdinand's interference). He did tell Ferdinand, for example, that he wished to see his daughter Mary married before he died. I think he just didn't have enough time to circumvent all the diplomatic hindrances.

I'm personally of the opinion that marrying Prince Henry to Eleanor would have exhausted an already used avenue. Spain's alliance was secured by Mary's betrothal to the Infant Charles; a new alliance with France, for example, would have been far more advantageous to England's interests, but I can't say that was Henry VII's own view.

I wish I could elaborate further and bring more sources but I haven't had much time to be on this blog, so please forgive me x

[une-sanz-pluis]

I am looking at Elizabeth Woodville's family ledger... The author concludes by describing that Margaret Anjou's high income and luxury were in line with the chaotic finances of the late Lancaster dynasty, while Elizabeth Woodville's simplicity represented the order of the York dynasty... Well, I think the author may have overlooked Elizabeth Woodville's identity, making it impossible for her to have the expenses that a normal queen should have at the beginning. And Anjou's Margaret did need to be generous in reaching out to the nobility when her husband was unable to rule in the later years (what do you think?)

I'm not that familiar with Elizabeth Woodville's life and tenure as queen, the intricacies of Wars of the Roses discourse nor Margaret of Anjou's finances. But I would agree with the idea that Elizabeth Woodville got smaller dower because of her lack of status compared to Margaret of Anjou and the fact that by marrying her, Edward IV circumvented the political marriage negotiations.

What we do know, however, is that Margaret received 10,000 marks p.a. for her dower and this is the same dower that her predecessors, Joan of Navarre and Catherine de Valois, received and the same dower Isabelle de Valois would have received had she reached her majority before Richard II was deposed and killed.

Historians looking at Joan of Navarre's dower have noted it was a large strain on the country's finances, particularly given the costs of the Crown was accruing in effort to suppress the various rebellions. These historians have also noted the bind this put on future marriage negotiations for future kings and heirs (by which I mean negotiations with royal and aristocratic European courts): the same dower would have to be provided for each queen or else it would be deemed insulting, suggesting their daughter/sister was less worthy than their predecessor(s), and the negotiations would be unlikely to succeed.* It's generally suspected that the treason accusations Joan faced were primarily in reaction to Henry V's upcoming marriage to Catherine de Valois - Henry didn't think the already-stretched finances of the country could stretch to finding another 10,000 marks and the easiest solution was to deprive Joan of her income and her liberty.**

What that means is that when it came time for Henry VI to marry, it would be expected by both the English and the French that Margaret would receive 10,000 marks p.a. in dower. It was not a sign of the "chaotic finances of the late Lancaster dynasty", it was entirely in keeping with the marriages that the previous Lancastrian kings and last Plantagenet king had made. It might be tempting to conclude that given the struggles with paying that dower, the English should have considered marrying Henry to an English noblewoman with the intention of providing her with a smaller dower. But that overlooks the purpose of Henry's marriage. Marriages - especially the marriage of a king - played large, important roles in medieval diplomacy. The chief priority at the time was to gain some advantage in the war with France. The financial benefits would also limited - the reduction between Margaret's dower (10,000 marks or around £6,667, iirc) to Elizabeth's (£4500) might seem like a lot to modern and medieval eyes but comparatively it was a drop in the ocean of the broader financial problems England and Henry were facing.

As your ask implies, Margaret's income from her dower was not just about making her rich. Gift-giving was an important part of the medieval court culture and individuals of status were expected to exchange luxurious gifts and they served as a symbol of the relationship between individuals.

What often does seem frivolous to modern eyes was the display of splendour. Richard Barber connects the display of kingly magnificence to the visible proof of the monarch and their special status. This meant the king's personal appearance (wearing splendid jewels and garments), the presence and appearance of his queen and their children, his ceremonies, feasts, and public appearances, the appearance of his surrounds, the courtiers, musicians, artists etc he employed and who were present at his court, the display of his belongings and more. This was also true for queens. The display of splendour enforced Margaret's status as queen and her wealth allowed her to maintain this display, from the rebuilding of La Pleasaunce to her personal dress to the gifts she gave and the ceremonies that centred her. It also underlined Henry's status as king, since Margaret's queenship was an extension of his kingship. This was particularly important as Henry's reign entered the crisis years and his authority became threatened.

On the use of jewels in particular, Tracy Adams succinctly summarises Nicola Tallis's work on the jewels of the late medieval and Tudor queens like so: "the gems worn by these queens mirrored their status and rendered visual their authority". We can be sure, too, that if a queen failed to live up to the expectations of the display of queenly splendour, she would be faced with a barrage of criticism - probably from the same commentators criticising her for spending too much money.

And yes, Margaret's income gave her the wealth and independence to maintain or court loyalties during the crisis years of Henry VI's reign, especially when Henry was in York's custody.

* Possibly, this is what happened with Joan. Because 10,000 marks had been promised for Isabelle's dower, it is possible the same had to be promised to Joan but where Isabelle had a large dowry to offset the costs of her future, Joan had no dowry.

** The situation was a lot more complicated and murky but Joan's not the subject of this ask. so I'm keeping it short and simple.

[scotianostra]

October 14th 1285 saw the marriage of King Alexander III to Yolande de Dreux.

Dates differ somewhat on this, one source states the marriage happened in November, most give October.

This was Alexander’s second marriage, the first was to Queen Margaret, they had three children, two of whom passed away before adulthood, the third, Margaret was married off to Eric II of Norway. Queen Margaret died on 26th February 1275 at Cupar Castle, with no male heir this meant a possible succession crisis, it took ten years for for Alexander to find a suitable bride, but according to the Lanercost Chronicle, he did not spend his decade as a widower alone:

“he used never to forbear on account of season nor storm, nor for perils of flood or rocky cliffs, but would visit none too creditably nuns or matrons, virgins or widows as the fancy seized him, sometimes in disguise.”

Yolande de Dreux was the daughter of Robert IV, Count of Dreux, and Beatrice, Countess of Montfort. She was born at the family seat at the Chateau of Dreux, close to the border between Normandy and the Ile-de-France. This made her a member of the Capetian dynasty, the largest and oldest of the royal houses in Europe.

And so it was on this day in 1285 that the 44 year old Alexander married 22 year old Yolande, by now Comtesse de Montfort.

The royal couple were married at Jedburgh AbbeyIt appears to have been love at first sight for both of them. Certainly all the Chronicles say that Alexander was quite besotted with his young, beautiful and graceful wife.

Alexander simply could not get enough of the glamorous Yolande, and on March 19, 1286, the king enjoyed a meal with his council in Edinburgh before deciding to surprise Yolande who was at a royal manor at Kinghorn in Fife.

The weather was so bad that the ferryman at Queensferry at first refused to carry the King across the Forth, but eventually he did so and with plenty wine taken and no doubt lust beckoning him onwards, the lure of Yolande proved too much and Alexander III charged onward through Fife.

His body was found the following morning on the shore between Burntisland and Kinghorn Ness near to Pettycur. The cliff down which he fell is known still as King’s Crag.

The history books tell us Yolande was pregnant, some say she miscarried, another chronicle goes into a wee bit more detail saying that the Guardians gathered at Clackmanan on St Catherine’s day 25th November 1286 – to witness the birth, but the child was stillborn, tradition says the baby was buried at Cambuskenneth. After the queen dowager’s pregnancy did not result in a living child, the council begun preparations for Margaret of Norway to be taken to Scotland as their new sovereign.

Queen dowager Yolande remained in Scotland for a couple of years supported by her dower provisions and living possibly at Stirling Castle: it is known that she was still in Scotland at least as late as in 1288. At some point, she returned to France.

In 1292 Yolande de Dreux remarried, this time to Arthur II, Duke of Brittany. They had six children together over the following decade. Arthur died in 1312, while Yolande lived until 1330.

Lots of ifs and buts resulting from this part of our history, but one thing is for sure, with Queen Yolande later having 6 children, there is little doubt that if Alexander hadn’t been so lusty that night she would have bore him a son and the whole timeline of our Royals would have been much different, no Bruce, no Stewarts, no Culloden?

Pics are Alexander's statue above the West door of St Giles in Edinburgh, and Seal of Yolande of Scotland - Duchess of Brittany.

[beatrice-otter]

💙 Pride & Prejudice?

This isn't actually an AU, more of a sequel.

Lady Catherine can no longer have her heart's desire, which is Anne married to Darcy, uniting the great fortunes and estates and keeping all that lovely money in the family. But there is a next best thing which is still available: she could marry Colonel Fitzwilliam! Who doesn't have an estate of his own, but who is still family and in need of a wealthy bride. (There are de Bourgh cousins, but Lady Catherine has never cared much for her husband's family; after all, they are not as highborn as her family.)

The thing is, Anne de Bourgh is an heiress with a great estate ... but she's also sickly and thus at a higher risk of dying in childbirth, being infertile, and/or having sickly children herself. She has no accomplishments, and her mother is overbearing and would not be pleasant to live with (and is in full control of Rosings, and wouldn't be moving out to the dower house to let her son-in-law take over). So it's not like Anne has the suitors one would expect a lady of her wealth to have. There are significant drawbacks!

But Colonel Fitzwilliam is actually ok with this. If they don't have kids, then the estate can pass to the de Bourgh cousins or something, that's fine. There are enough Fitzwilliams to pass on that legacy without him. He doesn't care about accomplishments; he does care that Anne is comfortable and happy. He doesn't want to live permanently with Lady Catherine ... but he's fine with him and Anne living in the dower house and leaving the main house to Lady Catherine. The company isn't the best, but he's got relatives all over England he can visit and stay with even if Anne's too sick to travel much, and also, if he has a house of his own he can invite his friends and relatives to visit him.

So he sells his commission in the Army and marries Cousin Anne. It's not a love match, but then, he never expected to marry for love; they like each other well enough and get on well enough, and they've got more than enough to live comfortably on, and that's fine with him. (Anne won't inherit the estate until her mother dies, but they get a decent share of the estate's income that is settled on Anne at her marriage; that was in her father's will and Lady Catherine can't touch it.) They move into the dower house, and he makes friends with the neighbors and he hosts card parties and things like that. He spends several months out of the year visiting (as was common among his class), and now he's got a place where other people can visit him, and it's a pretty good life.

But for Anne, it's an amazing improvement. She doesn't magically get better; they never do figure out what's wrong with her. But a household where the house and its functioning are designed by her for her comfort, and not by what her mother thinks she should need or do, makes an amazing difference. Lady Catherine dismissed Mrs. Jenkinson when Anne got married, but Anne hires a companion that she chose herself. In addition, there are the neighbors. Mrs. Collins proves to be very good company, when freed from the needs of kowtowing to Lady Catherine, and she's not the only one. Anne would like to be able to travel and visit as her husband does, but she doesn't begrudge him his visits to town and Pemberly and his father's estate. Besides, she gets as much company as she can handle, when his friends and family come to visit.

And so Colonel and Mrs. Fitzwilliam find themselves quite content with their life together.

[fideidefenswhore]

Petitioners also approached royal councillors or their secretaries for help; under Henry VII the members of the Council Learned and in later years the priy councillors channelled suits to the Crown. Others sought the intercession of the royal consorts and members of their courts as they, too, enjoyed frequent access to the sovereign. Henry VIII claimed Anne Boleyn had convinced him to pardon various participants in the Elizabeth Barton affair, when requesting his own forgiveness, John Musarde noted that Anne "hath the name to be as a mediatrix betwixt your Grace and high justice." Catherine Howard petitioned the king to pardon three men linked to the Botolf plot; a short time later she obtained mercy for a Lincolnshire woman convicted of felony. Philip of Spain, the only male royal consort of the Tudor period, also responded to requests for his assistance periodicaily throughout his marriage to Queen Mary.

To Pardon and To Punish: Mercy and Authority in Tudor England

footnote: Pardons issued jointly in both their names, yet Mary alone decided who received mercy and who did not. Indeed, Philip may have vaiued his ability to intercede for pardon more highly than did the queens consort; unlike them, he received no dower lands or annuities from his marriage with which to foster cfientage networks. He had to provide pensions from his own, foreign revenues. As D.M. Loades has noted, the pardon constituted the one area in which his marriage did provide resources for reward and influence: he repeatedly interceded for and secured the pardon of various offenders in an attempt to recruit "serviceable men."

[blackboar]

How did Kathleen of York live after her husband was imprisoned?

She certainly survived because of her sister's annuities (because of Cecily Neville's succession) and her share as a dowager countess in the land of her attainted husband. Recall that an attainder is equivalent to civil death, which technically makes Catherine eligible for her dower.

Anywhomst, it's implausible that Henry VII would let his sister-in-law become poor.

[magnificent-sultana]

Hurrem Sultan and Anne Boleyn v.s Mahidevran Sultan and Catherine of Aragon

[beardofkamenev]

“The Castle of Queens” — The Queen’s Chambers at Leeds Castle, Kent

In the 1980s, two rooms at Leeds Castle were restored to recreate the Queen’s Chambers as they were in 1423 when the widowed Catherine de Valois held the castle as part of her dower. The first is her bedroom, featuring a large bed of state in coral silk damask, measuring 10 feet by 7 feet. Above hangs a matching rectangular ‘hung celour’ with accompanying curtains, which were threaded onto hidden iron rods so as to allow them to be easily drawn for privacy. The bedroom walls are dressed in green and gold silk embroidered with the initials “H” and “C” (for Henry V and Catherine) entwined in a lovers’ knot. Adjoining the queen’s bedroom is her bathroom, containing a large wooden bath-tub draped in a fine linen ‘sparver’ and lined with a sheet of the same fabric to protect the queen’s skin from splinters. The room also contains a luxurious red silk damask day-bed, topped by a matching decorative ‘sparver’, for the queen’s repose.

Catherine stayed at Leeds Castle on many occasions, and it is thought that her scandalous affair with Owen Tudor — her Welsh esquire of the household, and later, second husband — may have begun here. With this modern recreation, it is tempting to perhaps imagine the two lovers meeting secretly in rooms much like these.

Sources: Leeds Castle; English Monarchs; Penelope Eames, ‘The Making of a Hung Celour’, Furniture History Vol. 33 (1997)

[margoshansons]

Hi. So this came up in another discussion on Bridgerton. Was it always guaranteed that the wife's family members would be taken care of financially by the husband (eg Kate and Mary in case of Edwina)? I assumed it was a custom but not always a guarantee.

Somebody suggested that Kate did not plan to return to India before Anthony showed interest in her and she was escaping him. But I felt she always planned to return to India to take up a position as a governess because she never believed she would be financially supported by Edwina's in laws. And from I understand about Kate, she wasn't going to wait around for Edwina's family to care for her. She wasn't a freeloader for a lack of a better word. A woman who felt she needed to earn love from her own family was not going to expect financial assistance for herself from her sister's husband.

Is there anything to suggest that Regency men had to support their wife's family or was it dependent on their generosity?

No. It was not guaranteed.

Unless it was written into the marriage settlement (aka prenup) there was no guarantee of the husband even providing for his own wife outside of pin money (her allowance). He had control over everything regarding finances, and while it was customary for the husband to provide his wife with pin money, a large sum and land for her to live off when he died, and parts of the estate/money for their children, it wasn't guaranteed and really depended on the woman he married and lawyers they had.

If a woman had a larger dowry--like say Cressida Cowper or Daphne Bridgerton--then her father/older brother/man of the house would be able to negotiate for the terms above and then some, which Anthony did when Daphne got married and what Lord Featherington probably did for Phillipa when he approached the Finch's.

But if a woman did not have much to offer to the arrangement, such as no dowry or status or lands, then the marriage settlement would look very different. That's probably why Kate was so obsessed with making sure Edwina found the right match. She would not only be the one making sure her sister found love, but would be doing the negotiating of the finances and the marriage settlement and she needed someone who would actually listen to her so that Edwina would be well cared for and looked after, because the Sharmas obviously did not have enough money for a good lawyer or a man of the house to meet with the future husband/father.

(we don't really know what the status is on if Lord and Lady Sheffield had any other children, so this could change if Edwina was their sole heir, but that doesn't seem to be the case)

This is actually why the line of Anthony offering to dower Edwina in the books is so important. Because he is offering the generosity unprompted without a marriage settlement. Whereas most men wouldn't even think about that unless the man of the house he was marrying into brought it up.

This subject actually something that Jane Austen writes about a lot, and she uses it to distinguish her characters from one another. General Tilney in NA is considered dishonorable because he doesn't provide ample funds for Catherine when she is turned out, on the flip side, Captain Wentworth provides for Mrs. Smith after her husband fucks up the books, making him appear honorable and good.

You can even see it in Pride and Prejudice with how Darcy handles the Wickham-Lydia situation. He essentially dowers Lydia when he pays Wickham off, and that is part of why Lizzie is so floored by it. It is the greatest thing he could've done and they weren't even married.

So it is entirely possible that Kate figured she wouldn't be a part of the marriage settlement and Edwina's future husband wouldn't look after her (and we know she wouldn't have included herself in the settlement) so she decided to make a living for herself as a governess instead so she could have some sort of income to offer a man if she ever found one she loved.

That's another thing though that plays into her plans to leave for India. We know from the start that Kate isn't here to find a husband for herself, just for Edwina, and while most of that reason is because of the Sheffield Trust Fund, I also think it's because Kate didn't expect to find a man of wealth that she could love (hah, spoiler alert she does).

Ellie Dashwood touches on this in one of her videos but she essentially says that when a young woman of gentry was treated with the choice of a loveless marriage solely for financial security, or the choice of becoming a governess and refusing someone they did not love or get along with, most would choose the latter.

It's obvious Kate is a romantic, and I think if she were presented with the two choices, it's clear which one she would choose.

[dwellordream]

“Henry's marriage to Catherine had long since grown cold. Though his wife remained, and would remain, loyal and devoted, Henry was in very different case. The raptures of the early days had faded and the consequent demands upon him for self-discipline and generosity had found him wanting. Catherine was five years his senior. In I527 he was still in his prime, in his mid-thirties, she over forty. As king he could satisfy desire all too easily, for who would refuse a king easily, especially a king such as he? Fidelity was rare among monarchs and the temptation besetting him, in particular, strong.

At first Henry had been a gallant husband. Catherine had accompanied him to every feast and triumph, he had worn her initials on his sleeve in the jousts and called himself 'Sir Loyal Heart'. He had shown her off to visitors, confided in her, run to her with news. Though there had been talk of a lady to whom he showed favour while campaigning in France, he had slipped home ahead of his army and galloped to Catherine at Richmond in order to lay the keys of the two cities he had captured at her feet.

We cannot know when he first succumbed to the temptation of adultery, but it must have been within five years of his marriage, when there appeared on the scene one Elizabeth Blount, a lady-in-waiting of Queen Catherine and a cousin of Lord Mountjoy - and she may not have been the first. She caught the king's eye during the New Year festivities in I5I4, that is, shortly after he had returned from the first campaign in France. Bessie Blount eventually bore him a son, in I519. Subsequently she married into a gentle family, the Talboys of Lancashire, with a dower of lands in that county and Yorkshire assigned by act ofParliament. Hers, then, was a fate less than death; and her son, the duke of Richmond, was occasionally to acquire considerable political and diplomatic significance.

Next there was Mary Boleyn, since 1521 wife of William Carey, daughter of a royal councillor and diplomat, and sister of Anne. That Mary was at one time Henry's mistress, and this presumably after her marriage, is beyond doubt. Years later there was a strong rumour that she too had born Henry a son, but we cannot be sure. Anyway we may guess that the liaison was over by l526, and when her younger sister climbed on to the English throne, with perhaps pardonable pique, she dismissed Mary from the court. The latter was to do well enough, with her family at the centre of affairs during the reign of her niece, Elizabeth I - which was more than could be said of Bessie Blount. And finally there was Anne, Thomas Boleyn's younger daughter.

Following in the wake of her sister, who had been in the entourage that accompanied Mary Tudor to France in 1514, Anne had crossed the Channel about 1519 to enter the household of Queen Claude, wife of Francis I, an amiable lady who had several young girls in her care and supervised their education. The newcomer to the royal school must have been about twelve years old. She stayed in France until the out- break of war in 1522 and then came home, by which time she was on the way to becoming an accomplished and mature girl. She does not seem to have been remarkably beautiful, but she had wonderful dark hair in abundance and fine eyes, the legacy of Irish ancestors, together with a firm mouth and a head well set on a long neck that gave her authority and grace.

On her return, if not before, her future had apparently been settled, ironically by Henry and Wolsey. She would marry Sir James Butler, an Irish chieftain and claimant to the earldom of Ormond, to which the Boleyns, rivals of the Butlers, had long aspired. Anne was therefore to mend the feud by uniting families and claims. Had this familiar kind of device been executed, and had this been the sum total ofher experience ofhow marriage and politics could interweave, things might have been very different for England, if not for Ireland. But Butler's price was too high and Anne remained in England.

Her father, aided perhaps by her grandfather, the second duke of Norfolk, had meanwhile brought her to Court, as he had her sister before her. There she eventually attracted attention, first from Sir Thomas Wyatt, the poet, a cousin of hers; then from Henry Percy, son of the earl of Northumberland and one of the large number of young men of quality resident in Wolsey's household. Alas, Percy was already betrothed. At the king's behest, Wolsey refused to allow him to break his engagement and, summoning him to his presence, rated him for falling for a foolish girl at Court. When words failed, the cardinal told the father to remove his son and knock some sense into him. Percy was carried off forthwith- and thus began that antipathy for Wolsey that Anne never lost.

But it may well be that, when Henry ordered Wolsey to stamp on Percy's suit, it was because he was already an interested party himself and a rival for the girl's affection of perhaps several gay courtiers, including Thomas Wyatt. The latter's grandson later told a story ofhow Wyatt, while flirting once with Anne, snatched a locket hanging from her pocket which he refused to return. At the same time, Henry had been paying her attention and taken a ring from her which he thereafter wore on his little finger. A few days later, Henry was playing bowls with the duke of Suffolk, Francis Bryan and Wyatt, when a dispute arose about who had won the last throw.

Pointing with the finger which bore the pilfered ring, Henry cried out that it was his point, saying to Wyatt with a smile, 'I tell thee it is mine.' Wyatt saw the ring and understood the king's meaning. But he could return the point. 'And if it may like your majesty,' he replied, 'to give me leave that I may measure it, I hope it will be mine.' Whereupon he took out the locket which hung about his neck and started measuring the distance between the bowls and the jack. Henry recognized the trophy and, muttering something about being deceived, strode away.

But the chronology ofAnne's rise is impossible to discover exactly. All that can be said is that by I525-6 what had probably hitherto been light dalliance with an eighteen or nineteen year-old girl had begun to grow into something deeper and more dangerous. In the normal course of events, Anne would have mattered only to Henry's conscience, not to the history of England. She would have been used and discarded - along with those others whom Henry may have taken and who are now forgotten. But, either because of virtue or ambition, Anne refused to become his mistress and thus follow the conventional, inconspicuous path of her sister; and the more she resisted, the more, apparently, did Henry prize her.

Had Catherine's position been more secure she would doubtless have ridden this threat. Indeed, had it been so, Anne might never have dared to raise it. But Catherine had still produced no heir to the throne. The royal marriage had failed in its first duty, namely, to secure the succession. Instead, it had yielded several miscarriages, three infants who were either still-born or died immediately after birth (two of them males), two infants who had died within a few weeks ofbirth (one ofthem a boy) and one girl, Princess Mary, now some ten years old. His failure to produce a son was a disappointment to Henry, and as the years went by and no heir appeared, ambassadors and foreign princes began to remark the fact, and English diplomacy eventually to accommodate it, provisionally at least, in its reckoning.

Had Henry been able to glimpse into the second halfofthe century he would have had to change his mind on queens regnant, for his two daughters were to show quality that equalled or outmeasured their father's; and even during his reign, across the Channel, there were two women who rendered the Habsburgs admirable service as regents ofthe Netherlands. Indeed, the sixteenth century would perhaps produce more remarkable women in Church and State than any predecessor - more than enough to account for John Knox's celebrated anti-feminism and more than enough to make Henry's patriarchal convictions look misplaced. But English experience of the queen regnant was remote and unhappy, and Henry's conventional mind, which no doubt accorded with his subjects', demanded a son as a political necessity.

When his only surviving legitimate child, Mary, was born in February 1516, Henry declared buoyantly to the Venetian ambassador, 'We are both young; if it was a daughter this time, by the grace of God sons will follow.' But they did not. Catherine seems to have miscarried in the autumn of 1517 and in the November of the following year was delivered of another still-born. This was her last pregnancy, despite the efforts of physicians brought from Spain; and by 1525 she was almost past child-bearing age. There was, therefore, a real fear of a dynastic failure, of another bout of civil war, perhaps, or, if Mary were paired off as the treaty of 1525 provided, of England's union with a continental power.

Catherine, for the blame was always attached to her and not to Henry, was a dynastic misfortune. She was also a diplomatic one. Charles's blunt refusal to exploit the astonishing opportunity provided by his victory at Pavia and to leap into the saddle to invade and partition France had been an inexplicable disappointment. Of course, had Henry really been cast in the heroic mould he would have invaded single- handed. But established strategy required a continental ally. Eleven years before, in 1514., Ferdinand of Spain had treated him with contempt and Henry had cast around for means of revenge, and there had been a rumour then that he wanted to get rid of his Spanish wife and marry a French princess.

Whether Henry really contemplated a divorce then has been the subject of controversy, which surely went in favour of the contention that he did not - especially when a document listed in an eighteenth-century catalogue of the Vatican Archives, and thought to relate to the dissolution of the king's marriage - a document which has since disappeared - was convincingly pushed aside with the suggestion that it was concerned with Mary Tudor's matrimonial affairs, not Henry's. Undoubtedly, this must dispose of the matter even more decisively than does the objection that, in the summer of 1514, Catherine was pregnant. In 1525, however, the situation was different. Charles had rebuffed Henry's military plans and, by rejecting Mary's hand, had thrown plans for the succession into disarray.

For a moment the king evidently thought of advancing his illegitimate son - who, in June 1525, was created duke of Richmond. But this solution was to be overtaken by another which Henry may have been contemplating for some time, namely, to disown his Spanish wife. Catherine, therefore, was soon in an extremely embarrassing position. Tyndale asserted, on first-hand evidence, that \Volsey had placed informants in her entourage and told of one 'that departed the Court for no other reason than that she would no longer betray her mistress'.' When Mendoza arrived in England in December 1526, he was prevented for months from seeing the queen and, when he did, had to endure the presence of Wolsey who made it virtually impossible to communicate with her. It was the ambassador's opinion that 'the principal cause of [her] misfortune is that she identifies herselfentirely with the emperor's interests'; an exaggeration, but only an exaggeration.

The king, then, had tired of his wife and fallen in love with one who would give herself entirely to him only if he would give himself entirely to her; his wife had not borne the heir for which he and the nation longed, and it was now getting too late to hope; he had been disappointed by Catherine's nephew, Charles V, and now sought vengeance in a diplomatic revolution which would make the position of a Spanish queen awkward to say the least. Any one of these facts would not have seriously endangered the marriage, but their coincidence was fatal. If Henry's relations with Catherine momentarily improved in the autumn of 1525 so that they read a book together and appeared to be very friendly, soon after, probably, Henry never slept with her again.

The divorce, which came into the open in early 1527 was therefore due to more than a man's lust for a woman. It was diplomatically expedient and, so some judged, dynastically urgent. As well as this, it was soon to be publicly asserted, it was theologically necessary, for two famous texts from the book of Leviticus apparently forbade the very marriage that Henry had entered. His marriage, therefore, was not and never had been, lawful. The miscarriages, the still-births, the denial of a son were clearly divine punishment for, and proof of, transgression of divine law. Henry had married Catherine by virtue of a papal dispensation of the impediment of affinity which her former marriage to Arthur had set up between them.

But Leviticus proclaimed such a marriage to be against divine law - which no pope can dispense. So he will begin to say. And thus what will become a complicated argument took shape. Henry had laid his hand on a crucial weapon - the only weapon, it seemed, with which he could have hoped to achieve legitimately what he now desired above all else. How sincere he was is impossible to determine. More than most, he found it difficult to distinguish between what was right and what he desired. Certainly, before long he had talked, thought and read himself into a faith in the justice of his cause so firm that it would tolerate no counter-argument and no opposition, and convinced himself that it was not only his right to throw aside his alleged wife, but also his duty - to himself, to Catherine, to his people, to God.

At the time, and later, others would be accused of planting the great scruple, the levitical scruple, in Henry's mind. Tyndale, Polydore Vergil and Nicholas Harpsfield (in his life of Sir Thomas More) charged Wolsey with having used John Longland, bishop of Lincoln and royal confessor, to perform the deed. But this was contradicted by Henry, Longland and Wolsey. In 1529, when the divorce case was being heard before the legatine court at Blackfriars, Wolsey publicly asked Henry to declare before the court 'whether I have been the chiefinventor or first mover of this matter unto your Majesty; for I am greatly suspected of all men herein'; to which Henry replied, 'My lord cardinal, I can well excuse you herein. Marry, you have been rather against me in attempt- ing or setting forth thereof' - an explicit statement for which no obvious motive for misrepresentation can be found and which is corroborated by later suggestions that Wolsey had been sluggish in pushing the divorce forwards.

Longland too spoke on the subject, saying that it was the king who first broached the subject to him 'and never left urging him until he had won him to give his consent'. On another occasion Henry put out a different story: that his conscience had first been 'pricked upon divers words that were spoken at a certain time by the bishop of Tarbes, the French king's ambassador, who had been here long upon the debating for the conclusion of the marriage between the princess our daughter, Mary, and the duke of Orleans, the French king's second son'. It is incredible that an ambassador would have dared to trespass upon so delicate a subject as a monarch's marriage, least of all when he had come to negotiate a treaty with that monarch.

Nor was it likely that he should have sug- gested that Mary was illegitimate when her hand would have been very useful to French diplomacy. Besides, the bishop of Tarbes only arrived in England in April 1527, that is, a few weeks before Henry's marriage was being tried by a secret court at Westminster. The bishop could not have precipitated events as swiftly as that. No less significantly, another account ofthe beginnings of the story, given by Henry in 1528, says that doubts about Mary's legitimacy were first put by the French to English ambassadors in France - not by the bishop of Tarbes to his English hosts.

He and his compatriots may have been told about the scruple or deliberately encouraged by someone to allude to it in the course of negotiations, but did not invent it; nor, probably, did Anne Boleyn - as Pole asserted. It is very likely that Henry himselfwas the author ofhis doubts. After all, he would not have needed telling about Leviticus. Though he might not have read them, the two texts would probably have been familiar to him if he had ever explored the reasons for the papal dispensation for his marriage, and he was enough of a theologian to be able to turn to them now, to brood over them and erect upon them at least the beginnings of the argument that they forbade absolutely the marriage which he had entered.

Wolsey said later that Henry’s doubts had sprung partly from his own study and partly from discussion with 'many theologians'; but since it is difficult to imagine that anyone would have dared to question the validity of the royal marriage without being prompted by the king, this must mean that the latter's own 'assiduous study and erudition' first gave birth to the 'great scruple' and that subsequent conference with others encouraged it. Moreover, Henry may have begun to entertain serious doubts about his marriage as early as 1522 or 1523, and have broached his ideas to Longland then - for, in 1532, the latter was said to have heard the first mutterings of the divorce 'nine or ten years ago'.'

By the time that Anne Boleyn captured the king, therefore, the scruple may already have acquired firm roots, though probably not until early 1527 was it mentioned to Wolsey who, so he said, when he heard about it, knelt before the king 'in his Privy Chamber the space of an hour or two, to persuade him from his will and appetite; but I could never bring to pass to dissuade him therefrom'. What had begun as a perhaps hesitant doubt had by now matured into aggressive conviction.”

- J.J. Scarisbrick, “The Repudiation of the Hapsburgs.” in Henry VIII

[inky-duchess]

In my story the heir to the throne is dead and the wife didn’t have any children with him. The king is in dier need of an alliance with her family because of war and poverty. The king decides its best to call on her niece to marry the next in line, but the aunt tries to dissuade him from this and boost herself capable of marrying him. So even if the niece comes to the palace what could happen would the king let them marry even though he has the niece a fresh start?

Perhaps the Aunt is a better choice being older and already at home at court and besides, it would save the Crown forking out for the dower to her and then the costs of getting the niece to the kingdom. The Aunt is already there and able to marry and step back into the role. She is probably the best bet. I think you would benefit from researching the last years of Henry VII's death where he had to decide whether to allow his son Prince Henry (future King Henry VIII & scumbag) marry Catherine of Aragon or Eleanor of Austria, an aunt and niece who are almost exactly expys of your OC.

[richmond-rex]

I would like to ask, since Henry VII loves his wife so much, why does she still need to borrow money from others to pay the salary of the servants?

Weird to talk about those people as if they're still alive, but sure, let's go there. By 'pay the salary of the servants' I'm assuming you meant the upkeeping of her household in general. You need to understand that Elizabeth of York was hardly the first queen consort to have debts. According to her own last will, Catherine of Valois died in debt with her servants despite having a generous source of income as Queen Dowager. Philippa of Hainault, Edward III's queen, famously struggled with debts too:

[Philippa]'s domestic establishment may have numbered around a hundred people, and throughout the 1330s and 1340s Philippa’s household accounts continued to run at a serious deficit. By the end of the 1350s, the situation was dire: a long list of those awaiting payment for foodstuffs purveyed by the Queen’s officers, compiled in c.1357, provides striking evidence of Philippa’s impecuniousness. In 1360 it was therefore decided to merge the finances of the King’s and Queen’s households.

I have never seen people suggest Edward III didn't love Philippa of Hainault because she struggled with debts — on the contrary, their story is usually seen as a loving marriage — so I'm at a loss here why you would apply this logic to Henry VII. From Joanna of Navarre and Margaret of Anjou being accused of not living within their means and being constrained by parliament or the royal council to send away part of their staff, to Philippa of Hainault having no option but to merge her household with her husband's to save money, Elizabeth of York's debts are hardly a symptom of her marriage or her husband's feelings — especially considering Elizabeth was never actually constrained to let go of her staff nor to merge her household with the king's. She maintained autonomy over her household throughout her time as queen.

It makes no sense to accuse Henry VII of not loving his wife not only because Elizabeth of York was just one of the many queens who struggled with the upkeeping of their household, but also because Henry VII was the one to pay her debts most of the time. You would think that if he didn't care about her or wanted to humiliate her he would simply let her be indebted and eventually be accused of not living within her means and be forced to do something like the other queens I cited here did, to let go of her staff or merge her household with the king's, but her situation never got to that stage. She remained mistress of her household.

I know Henry VII has been traditionally seen as a miser, and that Francis Bacon's version of Henry as 'nothing uxurious' has been repeated uncritically for most of recent history, but it's time to let go of these stereotypes and 1) look at the evidence we have but also 2) actually put into perspective Henry and Elizabeth's relationship/kingship & queenship in comparison to the kings and queens that came before them. If you want an example of a husband's abuse, just look at the time Edward II seized all of the dower properties (and source of income) of his wife, Isabella of France, in response to the threat of war with her home country. Henry VII paying his wife's debts hardly seem malicious at all.

[scotianostra]

December 1st 1463 saw the death of Mary of Guelders, Wife of King James II.

Mary of Guelders was born circa 1434 at Grave in the Netherlands, she was the daughter of Arnold, Duke of Guelders, and Catherine of Cleves. Catherine was a great-aunt of Henry VIII's fourth wife Anne of Cleves.

When she was twelve years old, Mary was sent to Brussels to live at the court of her great uncle Phillip, Duke of Burgundy and his wife Isabella of Portugal, where she served as lady-in-waiting to the Duchess of Burgundy's daughter-in-law, Catherine of Valois, the daughter of Charles VII King of France.

Marie, or Mary as she became known in Scotland had been earmarked to marry Charles, Count of Maine, but her father could not pay the dowry. Negotiations for a marriage to James II in July 1447 when a Burgundian envoy went to Scotland and were concluded in September 1448. Philip promised to pay Mary’s dowry, while Isabella paid for her trousseau. Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy settled a dowry of 60,000 crowns on his great-niece and Mary’s dower (given to a wife for her support in the event that she should become widowed) of 10,000 crowns was secured on lands in Strathearn, Athole, Methven, and Linlithgow.

William Crichton, Lord Chancellor of Scotland was sent to Burgundy to escort her back and they landed at Leith on June 18, 1449.  Her arrival was described by Chronicler Mathieu d'Escouchy. She first visited the Isle of May and the shrine of St Adrian. Then she came to Leith and rested at the Convent of St Anthony.  Both nobles and the common people came to see her as she made her way to Holyrood Abbey in Edinburgh.

Marie was 15 and James 19 when the two wed on July 3rd and immediately after the marriage ceremony, Mary was dressed in purple robes and crowned Queen of Scots. Consort by Abbot Patrick.

A sumptuous banquet was given, while the Scottish king gave her several presents. The Queen during her marriage was granted several castles and the income from many lands from James, which made her independently wealthy. In May 1454, she was present at the siege of Blackness Castle and when it resulted in the victory of the king, he gave it to her as a gift. She made several donations to charity, such as when she founded a hospital just outside Edinburgh for the indigent; and to religion, such as when she benefited the Franciscan friars in Scotland. The couple had six children, the oldest James, became James III.

James II died when a cannon exploded at Roxburgh Castle on August 3rd, 1460, before his death he had ordered another castle be built for his wife who was left to oversee it’s construction as a memorial to him, Ravenscraig was still being built when Marie moved into east tower. She also founded Trinity College Kirk in Edinburgh’s Old Town in his memory, she herself died and was buried there in 1483, the old Kirk was demolished, amid protests in 1833 and Marie was interred at Holyrood Abbey.

The pics are of the Queen and their Wedding Feast by Gerard de Nevers

[scotlandsladies]

The Ladies ♕ Queen Consorts [17/25] ↳ Mary of Guelders (c.1434 -1463), Queen Consort from 1449 to 1460

Mary was born sometime in 1434 to Arnold, Duke of Guelders and Catherine of Cleves. She was a great-niece of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy and spent many of her adolescent years at the Burgundian court; there she was educated and greatly influenced by Philip’s third wife, Isabella of Portugal. After a failed marriage negotiation with France, Philip and Isabella, negotiated and helped pay for her Scottish marriage to James II, King of Scots. It was mid-June, when she landed in Scotland and both nobles and the common people came to see her as she made her way to the capital. On 3 July 1449, the fifteen-year-old Mary married the nineteen-year-old James, at Holyrood Abbey in Edinburgh. Promptly after the marriage ceremony, James’ spouse was dressed in purple robes and crowned queen. James gifted Mary several presents, of which included several castles and the income of many lands making her independently wealthy. The couple had seven children together, two of which died in infancy. In May 1454, she was present at the victorious siege of Blackness Castle, James gave the castle to Mary as a gift. The queen made many donations to charity and to religion; she founded a hospital outside Edinburgh for the poverty-stricken and benefited the Franciscan friars in Scotland. On 3 August 1460, King James was accidentally killed by a cannon explosion and Mary acted as regent for their nine-year-old son James III. Before his death, James had been involved in the planning of a new castle, Ravenscraig Castle, as a home for his queen. Sometime in 1460, Mary began the construction of the castle as a memorial to her husband and as a dower house. In 1461, Mary willingly gave shelter in Scotland to Margaret of Anjou and her son Edward of Westminster, when they fled from England during the Wars of the Roses. She aided the deposed queen further, by giving her Scottish troops to help the Lancastrian cause. The women grew a companionship and had arranged a preliminary betrothal between their children. When Mary’s uncle Philip, Duke of Burgundy struck up an alliance with the new king of England, Edward IV, Mary's support for Margaret began to threaten this alliance. Edward proposed marriage to Mary, but she rejected. After Philip was able to coerce Mary to call off the betrothal of her daughter and Margaret’s son, her relationship with Margaret became strained. In 1462, Mary paid the Lancastrian royals to leave Scotland and peace was made with the York King. She even hinted at the prospect of marriage between herself and Edward IV, curiously it never happened. The former queen never remarried, but she reportedly had several affairs when she was regent, notably one with Patrick Hepburn, 1st Lord Hailes. On 1 December 1463, Mary of Guelders died at the unfinished Ravenscraig Castle, from severe sickness, at the age of thirty. She was buried in Trinity College Kirk in Edinburgh, which she founded. In 1848, despite a formal protest, the church was demolished to allow for the construction of the Waverley Railroad Station. At that time, Mary’s remains were relocated to Holyrood Abbey.

[shalebridge-cradle]

Bisclavret Round-Up

Unholy took about three months to write. Fairy Tale took five. Hindsight took six.

Bisclavret took nineteen, and that should be the biggest indicator to you that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.

This was my first venture into another fandom, and out of my comfort zone (though not entirely – supernatural elements for life). I’m not sure whether or not I did the source material and its characters justice, however, especially with the supernatural element I went with (Wolves are believed to have gone extinct in England in the late fifteenth or early sixteenth century), but I will try to explain my reasoning behind some of my decisions here.

The Characters

My main concern.

We get a good view of Monty’s thought process throughout the show, through the framing device of writing his memoirs and views of his private affairs. Phoebe and Sibella, on the other hand, are characters we don’t get much of in the way of examination – we only see them through Monty’s eyes until the very end, where they reveal themselves as more than that.

Sibella is a bit self-centred, and extremely practical when it comes to how she sees her place in society, which implies some self-confidence issues. Phoebe is more idealistic, and independent, but still hopes for a match fit for a storybook. But, towards the end, Sibella demonstrates she is more than a vain god-digger, afraid of losing the man she loves and willing to potentially compromise her image to save him, while Phoebe shows that she is not nearly as innocent or naive as the people around her consider her to be.

I interpreted the two women’s characterisations as thus; Sibella believes she is bound by society’s view of her. Phoebe does not. This, I believed, needed to be the focus.

Which is where we introduce…

The Whole Werewolf Thing

“[Post-modern Gothic] warns us to be suspicious of monster hunters, monster makers, and above all, discourses invested in purity and innocence. The monster always represents the disruption of categories, the destruction of boundaries, and the presence of impurities and so we need monsters and we need to recognize and celebrate our own monstrosities.”  - J Halberstam, Skin Shows: Gothic Horror and the Technology of Monsters

I gave a number of possible causes of the D’Ysquith ‘family curse’, if it is one – the actions of the first countess, Gregory D’Ysquith burning down a monastery (divine punishment is a possible cause), but I never gave a specific answer. I think I might be operating on the logic of the original Bisclavret – it’s irrelevant.

The reason there isn’t is because I intended it as a metaphor – which I think I’ve made clear with my chapter updates here (though you don’t have to read it that way, Death of the Author and all that), but I never quite decided and what it was a metaphor for. In terms of this particular narrative, it can be read as a metaphor for feminism, and/or a metaphor for same-sex attraction.

Feminism

Edwardian Era England, where A Gentleman’s Guide takes place, is not overly-represented in fiction. Not surprising, considering it’s a pretty short time period between the surprisingly long Victorian era and the world-changing events of World War One. However, when you think of that time period, a certain group tends to come to mind – the suffragettes.

(Just a note. Agatha D’Ascoyne, the character from Kind Hearts and Coronets who inspired Hyacinth D’Ysquith in the musical, was a suffragette. She has no lines, apart from “Shush!” – Deeds, Not Words.)

We know what these people wanted – Votes for Women. They were not prepared to wait for society to change to get it, and when peaceful protest was ignored, they began to act out. They refused to fit into their role of quiet, demure, loyal wives, and for some groups, this was seen as threatening. Anti-suffragette cartoons of the time often depicted these women as old, ugly and/or selfish for wanting similar rights to men instead of accepting their place as a ‘lesser being’.

The point I am trying to make is, being in defiance of the role you are expected to play – which Sibella is afraid to show – was seen by many to be ugly. Beastly.

Phoebe runs Henry’s country estate for him. Phoebe flaunts societal expectations by proposing to Monty, instead of waiting for him to propose, the ‘proper’ way to do things. While she is feminine, she does not fit the idea of what a woman ‘should be’.

Sibella makes a point to meet her obligations as a wife, though she does surreptitiously carry on an affair. She sacrifices her own happiness to get what she wants in a socially acceptable way. She has no intention of leaving Lionel in the source material, but she convinces herself that a rich, good-looking, polite man – what society thinks of as the ideal male – is what she wants, and realises on her wedding day that it isn’t.

And goes through with it anyway.

When she can no longer fit that mould, when she refuses to go along with Lionel’s plan to leech off the countess, when she undermines and argues with her husband, that’s when things start happening. Indeed, her ‘beastly’ outbursts manifest as standing up for herself. She ends the story as a much happier and self-assured person than she was at the beginning, and attempts to bring justice to other women.

Same-Sex Attraction

This is a bit more straightforward. We’re coming right off the back of the Victorian era here, where Oscar Wilde and others like him got their lives ruined. Same-sex relationships aren’t viewed in a positive light at all at this time – you like the same gender? Off to prison with you, deviant!

As people that were (and often still are) villainised, misunderstood and attacked for the crime of existing, some members of the LGBT community reclaim monsters such as vampires, werewolves and the Babadook as their own as a means of subverting their image in a heteronormative society. Being ‘monstrous’ is not bad. Being different is fine. You may feel malformed and wrong, but you are not. You and your quirks are accepted.

For some, the ones to fear are those who appear in the daylight.

Sibella, for all her talk of being a monster, only fights back when threatened. Morton has a heart attack when put in the position of his victims, subverting the formula he’s used to. Lionel, fearing that Sibella will leave him and damage his image, resorts to violence against Sibella and several other women he sees as substitutes for her. Mary attempts to murder Sibella for getting in the way of a monogamous man-woman relationship. In her eyes, Sibella is an irredeemable villain, but Phoebe can be ‘fixed’.

If you want to look deeper into this link between horror and the LGBT community, here’s a video essay discussing gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender representation in horror films.

There are only a few non-metaphorical references to werewolves. The wolf head in Eugenia’s dower house is a family member – as previously mentioned, wolves went extinct in England during the reign of Henry VII. St Hubert’s Key is a charm that more often than not looks like a nail, and was supposed to be able to rid the body of disease caused by a dog or wolf bite. There is some science behind this – the metal was heated before being pressed to the wound, and, if the subject was at risk of contracting rabies from the injury, the heat would likely sterilise and cauterise the potential infection site.

Not the First Murder-y Heir

There are a couple of characters named or directly taken from Israel Rank – Autobiography of a Criminal, the inspiration for Kind Hearts and Coronets and A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder. I’ve compared these works before, so I’ll just go over those that appear here.

Esther (Lane) – The third object of Israel Rank’s affections, and a governess. Knows more than she’s letting on in Israel Rank, and in this story as well.

James “Jim” Morton – Appears for about a page to explain Israel’s disillusionment with the ideal male – while Morton seems great to some, he really isn’t. Since Jim only appears as a child in the book, his characterisation here is drastically different.

Lord and Lady Pebworth – Almost directly lifted from the book, with Lady Pebworth being a bad singer and Lord Pebworth an older gentleman who lets his wife get away with a lot. The difference here is that Israel introduces the Hollands to the Pebworths, while the Pebworths are hoping the Hollands introduce them to Lord and Lady Navarro.

Sir Anthony Cross – Quiet, very well-off, slightly older gentleman who is quite taken by Sibella, but it doesn’t go anywhere. Acquaintance of the Pebworths. Pretty much the same guy.

Ethel D’Ysquith (Gascoyne) – An ancestor Israel is quite taken with, not only due to the resemblance between the two. He’s made the 3rd Earl of Highhurst because I didn’t feel like making an imaginary preceding title (Monty is only the 9th Earl, while the 10th Earl Gascoyne is about five generations before Israel – Ethel was the 6th Earl) and the 2nd Earl, Roland, had already been named in the musical. Phoebe’s description of him is meant to heavily imply he was also a werewolf. If I had read the book before fleshing out the D’Ysquith family tree, he would have taken the role that the first countess plays in the narrative’s events (Ethel Gascoyne hid in a tower with an Italian magician for 20 years).

Kate Falconer – The character who would later be known as ‘Boat Girl’ in Kind Hearts and Coronets and Evangeline Barley in A Gentleman’s Guide. Her great crime is to go on holiday with her boyfriend, and gets poisoned for her troubles. She survives here, and I used her to try a formatting technique (while she speaks, none of her dialogue is in quotes: in a way, she is voiceless).

(Sir) Cheveley Drummond, (Lady) Enid Branksome, and Catherine Goodsall – only mentioned briefly. Drummond is described as handsome and ‘interesting’ by Israel, Lady Enid is a young woman from a penniless but aristocratic family, and Catherine Goodsall in an actress whose abusive husband was beaten so badly by a Gascoyne he joined the navy and never came back to land.

In addition, Lionel’s later characterisation comes directly from Kind Hearts and Coronets, since he gets  almost none in the musical. His breakdown in Chapter 11 follows his emotional journey when asking for a loan – affability, begging, threatening suicide, insults and physical violence.

Literary References:

Not always relevant, but there is a wide enough variety that I’m collecting them.

Every chapter title, and the tagline of the work, comes from Manners and Social Usages by Mary Elizabeth (Mrs. John) Sherwood. It’s a bit out of date by the time of this story (written in 1884), but Sherwood does have some great phrases in her etiquette handbook.

Ruddigore is mentioned in chapter 2, only because it is a musical theatre production (opera) where ancestors play a role and family expectations are subverted.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Hamlet. It’s Hamlet.

When in the chronicle of wasted time, I see descriptions of the fairest wights, and beauty making beautiful old rhyme in praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights...  Shakespeare’s Sonnets, Number 106.

I desire, and I crave… Fragment from Sappho’s poetry.

The countess closes her book; something by a George Reynolds. George W. M. Reynolds wrote Wagner the Wher-Wolf (with that spelling) in 1857.

I met a lady in the meads, full beautiful, a faery’s child: Her hair was long, her foot was light, and her eyes were wild. La Belle Dame sans Merci (The beautiful lady without mercy) by John Keats.

Sibella also briefly mentions Algernon Blackwood, a supernatural fiction writer who wrote a short story about a werewolf (portrayed quite differently here) that a character in 1909 could have possibly read (the story was first published in 1908).

In addition, the whole story is named after a very early depiction of a sympathetic werewolf, Bisclavret by Marie de France (and the most direct I think I’ve ever been with a title). It depicts, naturally, a werewolf (who is also a knight, because not being human doesn’t disqualify you from doing that – cutting social commentary for the 12th century) who is trapped in his wolf form after being tricked by his wife and her lover. Through chivalric behaviour to the king on a hunt, he works himself back into the royal court and, when his former wife pays a visit, bites off her nose. The king thinks the sudden aggressive behaviour from his pet prompts further investigation, the wife reveals all, and the knight is restored to human form. Also, all of the wife’s children are born without noses from then on. Lionel getting his nose bitten off is a reference to this poem.

Uncategorised Trivia

This work was written with the UK spellings of certain words, because it takes place in England. Previous works all took place in the US, and so used US spelling.

Les Patineurs Valse is French for The Skater’s Waltz. Reference to Asquith Jr. and Evangeline Barley.

All of the racehorse names Sibella finds are either variations, anagrams or synonyms of actual racehorses in the Victorian and Edwardian eras. Sir Hugh is Sir Huon, Gil Owen is Neil Gow, Irish Lass is Irish Lad, Supervision is Oversight and Pinnacle is Meridian.

Lionel was right to be concerned about Phoebe’s flower arrangement. Red begonias represent love, lavender-coloured heathers represent admiration and loneliness (and are a reference to another fandom I write for), tuberoses are symbolic of wild or forbidden passion (and was commonly used as a funeral flower), and verbena is reference to romance and sweet memories. The dead foliage is meant to mean sadness. Overall, the intended meaning is I miss you, my love.