Friday Video: Dressing Queen Elizabeth I

Loretta reports:

We’ve been doing quite a few “getting dressed” videos, yet I don’t hesitate to offer one more because, well, historical clothing. And then, too, it’s Lucy Worsley!

Video: Does my bum look big in this? - Tales from the Royal Wardrobe with Lucy Worsley - BBC One

Image is a screen shot of the video.

Readers who receive our blog via email might see a rectangle, square, or nothing where the video ought to be. To watch the video, please click on the title to this post (which will take you to our blog) or the video title (which will take you to YouTube).

Friday Video: Knole House, Kent

Loretta reports:

Rather a long time ago, at the end of the England trip that led to my writing Lord of Scoundrels, my husband and a friend and I visited Knole. By this time, we’d explored a number of stately homes, but Knole was an entirely new experience. This wasn’t simply because the early Jacobean structure was older than many of the homes we’d visited, but because so much of the centuries-old stuff inside wasn't renovated or restored, but the original stuff, fading and tattered. While conservation work is ongoing, and a great deal has been done since we visited, it’s still possible to see some these furnishings, and they do give the place a different atmosphere from that of other great houses. Then, too, there’s the sheer size of the place. I'm pretty sure the impression it made led to my fascination with Jacobean mansions, and having my characters live or get married in them.

Video:  Knole - Five centuries of showing off

The video is one from  Knole's YouTube channel where, among other things, you can watch conservation in process.

Image: Knole House, from Francis Orpen Morris, A Series of Picturesque Views of Seats of the Noblemen and Gentlemen of Great Britain and Ireland: With Descriptive and Historical Letterpress, Volume 6 (1880)

Clicking on the image will enlarge it.  Clicking on the caption will take you to the source, where you can learn more and enlarge images as needed.
Readers who receive our blog via email might see a rectangle, square, or nothing where the video ought to be. To watch the video, please click on the title to this post or the title of the video.

Friday Video: What Did Shakespeare's English Sound Like?

Romeo & Juliet

Loretta reports:

Not long ago, I posted a short video about the way the English language has changed over the centuries.

I raised the question about how understandable Shakespeare’s English would be to modern audiences: not only in the sense of unfamiliar words and phrases but also in terms of the sounds.

Lo and behold, wandering through YouTube at some point when I probably should have been working on the WIP, I found the answer as well as more glimpses of what goes on at the new Globe theater.

Image: Francesco Hayez, L'ultimo bacio di Giuletta e Romeo (Romeo and Juliet's Last Kiss)

Clicking on the image will enlarge it.  Clicking on the caption will take you to the source, where you can learn more and enlarge images as needed.

Readers who receive our blog via email might see a rectangle, square, or nothing where the video ought to be.  To watch the video, please click on the title to this post.

Shakespeare's Buildings, Lost, Found, Recreated

William Shakespeare-Chandos Portrait

Loretta reports:

Shakespeare’s birthday is 26 April, but since this is my day to post, we celebrate a day early.

I hastily put down a date, which turned out to be wrong, so let's just celebrate Shakespeare's being born in April around this time, we think.

I had a chance to experience a Shakespeare play in something close to what it might have been like when he was alive. A few years ago, we were in England, and had, for once, made reservations sufficiently far in advance to see one of the Bard’s works at the recreated Globe Theatre.

Though it represents an educated guess at what the original Globe was like, it seemed an authentic enough experience to me. At one point in the performance of Much Ado About Nothing, it started raining. Those standing under the open roof pulled up their rain hoods or umbrellas or simply got rained on.

It was an altogether different experience from watching a performance in a closed theater, or even at an outdoor theater. For one thing, the playhouse is small, and the audience is practically mingling with the players. All in all, it was a fabulous experience, and I hope to return next year.

The Globe

That was one reason I became so intrigued when an email message invited me to look at this beautiful series of Shakespeare-related photographs—including some fine shots of the recreated Globe Theatre—and I learned about the discovery, by members of the Museum of London Archaeology,  of the Curtain Theatre, where it’s believed some of Shakespeare’s plays made their debuts.

The Curtain is going to be a centerpiece, interestingly enough, of a luxury development. You can find out more here and here.

There’s more about the Curtain Theatre at the MOLA site, and you can learn more about MOLA on their blog.

Images: Shakespeare, Chandos portrait, National Portrait Gallery via Wikipedia.
The Globe Theatre courtesy Shakespeare's Buildings

Clicking on the image will enlarge it.  Clicking on the caption will take you to the source, where you can learn more and enlarge images as needed.

Tudor Era Cleanliness

Frances, Lady Bridges 1587

Loretta reports:

Looking at the title of this post, some readers will wonder what cleanliness has to do with the Tudor era. It tends to be assumed that our forebears were dirtier and smellier than we are.

As has been pointed out in a number of 2NHG posts,* this may not be the wholly correct picture. It turns out that the lives of our ancestors are not always what we supposed they were. Sometimes our assumptions are mostly true, sometimes there’s an element of truth, and sometimes what we take to be true is, essentially, historical myth.

How To Be a Tudor

Certainly, this piece by historian Ruth Goodman, on Tudor-era cleanliness, made me rethink my ideas about the Tudor era. I offer it in place of the Friday Video.

Ruth Goodman, by the way, has written other books about her experiences living the life of the past. How To Be a Tudor  is the most recent. How To Be a Victorian is next in line on my History Books TBR shelf.

*Some samples of our posts about cleanliness are here, here, here, here, and here.

Image: (Unknown artist) Frances, Lady Bridges 1587, courtesy Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection.

Clicking on the image will enlarge it.  Clicking on the caption will take you to the source, where you can learn more and enlarge images as needed.

Friday Video: Rowan Atkinson as Henry VIII

Isabella reporting,

This is brand-new and brilliant from Horrible Histories -  Rowan Atkinson (of Blackadder fame) tackles Henry VIII by way of Elvis.

Really, what else is there to say?

Readers who receive our blog via email might see a rectangle, square, or nothing where the video ought to be.  To watch the video, please click on the title to this post.

Casual Friday: Curious Tudor Laws

Loretta reports:

The Tudors got their own TV show, which, from what I've seen, took some historical liberties.  But I'm not sure even TV can come close to the nuttiness of the real thing.  Here, Horrible Histories offers a glimpse of a few Elizabethan laws about clothing.

Readers who receive our blog via email might see only a rectangle or square where the video ought to be.  To watch the video, please click on the title to this post.

Henry VIII' s astronomical clock Part Deux

Loretta reports:

To follow up on my blog about Hampton Court Palace's Astronomical Clock, here's a video from Historic Royal Palaces, with some additional tidbits and a look inside.

Hampton Court Palace—the Astronomical Clock & other things

Loretta reports:

I chose this excerpt from a Hampton Court Palace guidebook not simply because it gives us an idea of what Hampton Court Palace was like early in Queen Victoria’s reign, but because the writer has attitude.  You’ll note his mentioning a historical error.  We often blame the Victorians for creating their own historical myths to suit their tastes, but this gentleman did try to set the record straight about the clock—as well as add a few digs about Henry VIII and William Kent.

~~~

SECOND COURT* OF WOLSEY'S PALACE . . . the northern side is entirely occupied by the length of the hall—the west by a gateway, corresponding to that of the first court, having on its turrets the busts of Vitellius and Tiberius. Above this gateway is the face of an astronomical clock. It is stated to have been put up in 1540, and has often been said to have been the first public clock erected in England; but this is inaccurate, for the expenses of the Dutchman who superintended the works of the Clock Tower opposite Westminster Hall, in the time of Henry IV., are still preserved in the Exchequer. There was a " keper of the clocke at Hampton Courte—one Vincent, the clokmaker;" and in the Privy Purse Expenses of Henry VIll., 20s. are charged as "paid to the clokmaker at Westminster, for mending the clocke at Hampton Court." Between the busts of the Roman emperors  are two cherubs, of terra-cotta, made to support the arms of Henry VIII.,

Illustration from the guidebook

which ostensibly have supplanted something-better: indeed, throughout the whole of these portions of the palace, you cannot fail to be struck with the evident pains which the royal Harry, having once got possession, must have taken to set his mark wherever he could find a place for it. He that runs may read the "Dieu et mon Droit" everywhere. The eastern side of this quadrangle is marked with the date of 1732, that of its restoration, which was executed under the directions of Kent, the architect—one who had no respect for any but classical architecture. Here, thinking to improve on the original style, he has introduced some notions of his own, much less pertinent than they should be. Instead of the broad-shouldered, essentially Tudor arch, an "ogee" of an earlier period has been fantastically adapted; its want of harmony must strike every eye.
—Felix Summerly [pseud. for Sir Henry Cole] A hand-book for the architecture, tapistries, paintings, gardens and grounds of Hampton Court, 1849.

*Today called the Clock Court

The Horned Helmet of Henry VIII, 1514

Susan reporting:

Just when I'm sure I can ball-park date and identify most Western historic dress, an item pops up that makes me realize I know NOTHING. This helmet looks like some modern steam-punk extravaganza, or a wizard's costume from a Harry Potter movie.

It's hard to believe that this helmet is almost 500 years old, and was created as part of a lavish suit of court armor of Holy Roman Emperor Maximillian I.  The armor was then presented by Maximllian to English King Henry VIII, the sort of lavish gift that Renaissance rulers exchanged to cement alliances.

Only this helmet now survives. Originally it would have had a silver-gilt panels of pierced work that would have fit over the skull and over a flowing purple velvet headpiece. Such a fantastic suit of armor would have been worn for pageants and parades rather than combat. Even so, the helmet with his gilt eye-pieces is so unusual that for many years, it was misidentified as having belonged to Henry's jester, Will Somers, rather than to the king himself.

But ever-competitive Henry was impressed by the high craftsmanship of the armor, superior to anything English armorers were making at the time. Determined not to be outdone in monarchical display, he gathered the best armorers available from Germany, Flanders, and Italy to a new workshop at his palace at Greenwich, where royal armor was created until the mid-17th century.

The helmet is now a prized possession of the Royal Armouries, Leeds. Click here for a short video featuring Karen Watts, Curator of Historic Arms, explaining the helmet in detail. For those who'd like to investigate Henry VIII's armor in more depth, check out Henry VIII: Arms and the Man, a lavish volume that's almost as magnificent as the king himself (also available here.)

Update: I still had a few questions about this helmet, which I asked the Royal Armouries this morning. The reply from their curators regarding the "horned helmet (or parade armet)":
"It is not a flattering image, and is believed to depict the fool, a popular figure in court pageants, hence the wrinkles, stubble, dripping nose, etc.  There has been much debate as to whether the horns and glasses are original or later additions. Henry VIII may have occasionally worn glasses like these, but probably not horns, as this was the sign for a cuckold. Basically it is a bit of an enigma with scholarly debate still raging! Hope that helps a little – though it's still a mystery."
Many thanks to Beckie Senior, Communications Officer, for her prompt reply.

Above: Horned Helmet, by Konrad Seusenhofer, 1511-1514, Royal Armouries. 

Royal loos through time

Loretta reports:

My recent blog about King William III's close stool came to the notice of the Historic Royal Palaces Twitter account, who sent along a link to their YouTube video,  Toilets through time (Or, a royal flush).

 

Wait until you hear the description of King Henry VIII's special throne.  Lots of interesting information in this one, and amusement for all who enjoy scatological humor.

Thank you, Historic Royal Palaces!

Dining with the Tudors

Loretta reports:

A tour of Hampton Court Palace took me through the Tudor-era kitchens.  The fire was on, but nothing was cooking.  There were bowls and utensils and some representations of food, but these only whetted my appe—curiosity.

So let's let the Supersizers give us the lowdown on Tudor food.

Anne Boleyn's Shoes?

Susan reporting:

It's no secret that we NHG love a good history story (particularly if we've written it.) We do, however, appreciate the differences between History, and Fiction, and Wishful Thinking – distinctions that can often be blurred into a muddle of fact and fantasy, and then, oftener still, posted on the internet as gospel.

Which brings us to this pair of lady's shoes, left. While time hasn't treated them kindly, they must have been spectacular when new: salmon pink silk overlaid with gold mesh lace, overhanging square toes, elegantly shaped heels, and leather soles edged with red. Clearly these mules belonged to a lady of wealth and rank.

The family who most recently owned the shoes believed that lady was Anne Boleyn. Family tradition had a delightful story connected to them, repeated over the centuries:

"Nicholas Bristowe, a favourite courter of Henry VIII, was riding with the king and Queen Anne Boleyn in Hertfordshire. Passing Ayot St Lawrence, he greatly admired the place, wondering whose it was. The king said,"It is mine, but now shall be yours." Bristowe asking what evidence he was to produce of the gift, the king gave him the hat he was wearing and asked the queen for her slippers, saying, "Bring these in London and I will give you the title deeds." The hat and slippers have since always gone with the estate."

But while the shoes (and a man's hat) have been carefully preserved to support the tale, the historical facts proved too weighty. Records show that Henry didn't grant the estate to Bristowe until 1540, four years after poor Anne's execution in 1536. (See here for more discouraging details.)

The experts at Christie's auction house put a further damper on the legend. To their unromantic eyes, the style and construction of the shoes date them to the 1630s, a century too late for Anne. When they were put up for auction, the catalogue description sourly noted that they were "Said to have belonged to Anne Boleyn, but of a later date." Still, there was a measure of hope for historical day-dreaming: "The vendor's ancestor held court office at the Tower of London, and this is said to be how the shoes came to be in the family's possession." Not Anne Boelyn, no, but given the turbulent politics of the 1630s-40s, these shoes might well have an equally exciting story of a great Royalist lady imprisoned in the Tower....

Thanks to Chris Woodyard for her assistance with this post.


Above left: A Pair of Gold Lace Lady's Mules, 1630s, photograph courtesy Christie's.
Above right: Portrait of Anne Boleyn, c. 1530, artist unknown.

Gone to Sea A-Ratting: the Tale of a Tudor Terrier

Susan reports:

One of the most famous shipwrecks in English history was the sinking of the Mary Rose. An important vessel in Henry VIII's navy, the Mary Rose had a long career spanning three decades of warfare before she finally sank during an attack on French forces on 19 July 1545, near the Isle of Wight.

More than four centuries later, the Mary Rose was raised and recovered in an extraordinary feat of maritime archaeology. Not only was much of the ship itself recovered, but a wealth of Tudor-era artifacts – over 19,000 in all – were salvaged, ranging from weapons and navigational tools to the personal belongings of the lower-deck crewmen.

But perhaps the single most engaging discovery was the skeleton of the ship's dog. Nicknamed Hatch by the archeologists (because the remains were discovered near the hatch door of the ship's carpenter's cabin), the skeleton is believed to have belonged to a young female mongrel terrier. Sixteenth century sailors, a superstitious lot, were convinced that cats brought bad luck to ships at sea. Rat-catching dogs became an important member of the shipboard company, and Hatch was likely not only a working dog, but a favorite with the rest of the crew.

Certainly Hatch is continuing to serve her ship in the twenty-first century. A new museum to house the  Mary Rose is being constructed as part of the Historic Dockyard, Portsmouth, UK, and to help raise awareness and funds for the project, Hatch recently made an appearance at the 2010 Crufts dog show in Birmingham as the special guest of the sponsoring Kennel Club. While Hatch might not have claimed a ribbon, she was, in her own way, Best in Show.

Above left: Skeleton of Ship's Dog, The Mary Rose Trust.
Above right: The Carrack Mary Rose, illustration by Anthony Roll, c. 1546

Celebrate! (and more historical video silliness)

Susan reports:

For Americans, today is the beginning of a long holiday weekend as we celebrate our Independence Day. For our readers up north, yesterday marked Canada Day. If you're a high-powered professional basketball or ice hockey player, the first of July is also the first day of Free Agency for both the NBA and NHL (yeah, we have lots of those guys among our followers.) And, of course, this week included the 519th birthday of King Henry VIII of England (1491-1547), too.

With so much celebrating, Loretta and I are going to kick back a bit this weekend, and let Henry Tudor himself (as played by the irrepressible Brian Blessed) fill in for us. This sketch is part of a supremely silly BBC series called "Henry 8.0." Imagine Henry in all his high-Tudor bluster, living in a suburban condo with sixth wife Catherine Parr and wrestling with a modern world that includes Internet dating, iTunes, Twitter, and the "Book of Faces." (Here's the link to the whole series.) In this episode, the Pope has blocked Henry's tweets, and Henry is not a happy monarch....

Whatever you're celebrating, have a great weekend!

That Foreign Curiosity the Fork

Susan reports:

A Venetian nobleman sitting down to sup with King Henry VIII in 1530 would have at once noticed something missing from the English table. Each guest would have a silver spoon for pottage, sauces, and jellies and a knife for cutting meat, but no forks. Like most other Englishmen, His Majesty believed that fingers would suffice to carry food to the mouth, and anyone who thought differently was considered over-nice, or maybe just Italian.

While most of the courts on the Continent had been using forks for years, the English were very slow to pick up this particular dining refinement. Charles I's Queen Henrietta Marie brought them from her native France in the 1620s, and Charles II, too, favored them after his lengthy exile in Europe. By the end of the 1600s, diners of the better sort had begun accepting the two-tined fork (a smaller version of those used for carving meat) as a useful invention, and often carried their own with them. Not until the 18th c. did fashionable English forks acquire that extra tine or two, and receive the graceful bend to help carry food. Still, the two-tined variety remained in use into Victorian times in rural areas of England and among those who saw no use in tossing away perfectly good cutlery.

But it wasn't a refinement easily won. Like most Englishmen, traveller Thomas Coryat regarded forks with the greatest suspicion when he first encountered them in 1608 in Italy (perhaps at a grand banquet like the one above), and of course made fun of them – after, I suspect, he was "brow-beaten" himself for using his fingers.

"I observed a custom in all those Italian Cities and Townes through which I passed...The Italian and also most other strangers that are commorant in Italy do alwaies at their meals use a little forke when they cut their meate. For while with their knife which they hold in one hande they cut the meate out of the dish, they fasten their forke, which they hold in their other hand upon the same dish, so that whatsoever he be that sitting in the company of any others at meate, should unadvisedly touch the dish of meate with his fingers, he will give occasion of offence unto the company, as having transgressed the lawes of good manners in so much that for his error he shall be at the least brow-beaten, if not reprehended in wordes....The reason of this curiosity is, because the Italian cannot by any means indure to have his dish touched with fingers, feeling all mens' fingers are not alike cleane."

-- Thomas Coryat, Coryat's Crudities, Hastily Gobled up in Five Moneths' Travells...,vol. 1

Above: Detail from The Wedding at Cana by Paolo Veronese, 1563, The Louvre

Below: Silver filigree knife with steel blade and fork, late 17th c. French

Guarding a Tudor Garden: Henry VIII's "Kyng's Beestes"

Susan reporting:

For most of us, the notion of an English garden is pleasantly idyllic, with nodding roses and sweet-smelling annuals. King Henry VIII (1491-1547), however, seems to have had an entirely different idea. Judging by the newly recreated Chapel Garden at Henry's palace at Hampton Court, His Majesty expected his gardens to be something more than places for quiet reflection and relaxation.

Opened in 2009 to honor the 500th anniversary of Henry's accession to the throne in 1509, the garden is not an exact replica of a specific historical garden, but a historically based plausibility. In other words, it could have existed, and all of the aspects of its design are accurate to the Tudor era. With bold color and geometry as well as imaginary creatures, this garden makes a brave statement about power, male aggression, and royal lineage among the Tudors.

Bordered with green and white striped enclosures, the beds are filled with plants and herbs common to 16th c. gardens. The garden is the work of well-known historical gardener Todd Longstaffe-Gowan (click here for a splendid overhead photo of the garden, complete with Henry himself in the middle, and more examples of Mr. Longstaffe-Gowan's work.)

But what most people will remember about the garden are the "Kyng's Beestes" that guard it. These fantastical carved male figures (and imaginary or not, they are all very obviously male) are drawn from Tudor heraldry, and would have been instantly recognized by members of Henry's court as representing the royal family. Even the paint colors were carefully chosen to reflect heraldic traditions, and are appropriate to the time. The Tudor Court was not one known for subtlety, particularly in design; even stone statues were often brightly painted.

The three beasts shown here are the Red Dragon of Wales, the Panther (shown as "'incensed', with flames coming from its mouth and ears, which represent its fragrant breath"), and the Golden Lion of England. Others include the White Greyhound of Richmond, the White Hart, the Black Bull of Clarence, and the Silver Yale of Beaufort. And no, I didn't know what a Silver Yale was, either –– it's a beast with "the body of an Antelope, a Lion's tale and horns which can swivel round to counter attack from all quarters."

Whether these beasts feel the need to counter attack present-day tourists to Hampton Court remains to be seen. But considering Henry's nature, I'm sure he would have loved this gaudy, bellicose anniversary "gift."

These photographs come courtesy of the blog of Patrick Baty, a master painter who specializes in historically accurate paints for projects ranging from these Tudor garden ornaments to Georgian churches and Victorian bridges. For more about this garden and photographs of the other "beestes" as well as examples of his other projects, check out Mr. Baty's blog here.

UPDATE: Even better! I just found this video on YouTube--a tour of the chapel court garden and an explanation of the beasts by Todd Longstaffe-Gowan, who designed it.

Tudor Bling: The Cheapside Hoard

Susan reports:

Raindrops on roses are all very nice, but to really make the hearts of the TNHG go pitter-pat, just show them old jewelry.

Now everyone knows about the famous jewels like those royal baubles kept in the Tower of London or the legendary pearl "B" necklace of Anne Boleyn (left), but non-royal people in the 16th century loved fine jewelry, too. Renaissance London was famous for its goldwork, with one astonished visitor counting fifty-two goldsmiths' shops along the merchant's street of Cheapside.

This would be only one more dry history factoid except for something inelegantly called the Cheapside Hoard. In 1912, workmen demolishing a 17th century building discovered a decaying wooden box beneath a brick floor, stashed there by some long-forgotten goldsmith. Inside the box were over 500 pieces of 16th-17th century jewelry: gold and silver, enamel-work and precious stones, rings, pendants, chains, earrings, and watches. No wonder it's regarded as the greatest cache of Elizabethan jewelry in the world, and that there's already a major exhibition in the works to celebrate the centennial of the discovery in 2012.

These aren't huge Marie-Antoinette style diamonds for court wear, but things a NHG could imagine easily wearing for everyday. While the Hoard is now scattered among three museums, including the Victoria & Albert and the British Museum, the majority of the pieces are in the London Museum, which also has the best pictures on line.

Go ahead, browse a bit. Does the emerald pendant carved into a parrot catch your eye? Or is the diamond-studded hat ornament in the shape of a salamander more to your taste? We have our favs, and you probably will, too.