There has been a distinct hint of winter in the London air these last few days. The days are visibly getting shorter, and the temperature is dropping rapidly. It’s the beginning of December already, and we’re only a matter of weeks from the Winter Solstice and the shortest day of the year. Christmas is less than a month away now, with all the chilly, frosty air and hoped-for snow all that entails. But the modern British winter is actually much milder than it has been in previous centuries, and that’s only partly due to global warming.

Human beings have certainly made one almighty mess of the Earth’s environment, which has had an inevitable knock-on effect on our delicate climate system – the very fact that the next week’s Copenhagen climate summit is happening at all is ample testimony to this. But winter temperatures really were colder in the past, and not just in Britain. Between about 1300 and 1870, Europe and North America found themselves in the grip of what became known as the Little Ice Age.

The Little Ice Age meant that, prior to 1870, winter temperatures were significantly lower and harsher than in the 20th and 21st centuries, and there is still much academic and scientific debate as to why. Some scientists argue that this cooling effect was the result of sunspot activity, others that it was due to the effects of volcanic activity or an instability in atmospheric pressure, still others that it came about after the demographic changes of the Black Death caused decreased agriculture and increased reforestation. Consensus on this one may take some time.

Whatever the cause, things did get seriously frosty for a while, an eventuality that had a huge impact on everyone in Britain, particularly (as ever) the poorer members of society – and, strange as it may seem, this five century-long cold snap is still playing a cultural role in modern British life. In fact, it was some of these early 19th century Little Ice Age winters, in particular, that – via the medium of one Charles Dickens – created the enduring cultural idea that a festive white Christmas was the norm (it isn’t – it is actually more likely to snow in January than at Christmas time in Britain).

Despite our position in the middle of the icy North Sea, the southern part of Britain has long been noticeably warmer than the north, but during the Little Ice Age even the south was distinctly chilly. During particularly cold winters, even the Thames would freeze. This certainly happened on a number of occasions during the Little Ice Age period, but the first recorded incidence of the river icing over actually dates back all the way to 250 AD, when it is said to have been frozen solid for more than two months.

It froze again in 923 AD, when the ice was so thick that carts used it as a roadway for three months, but by the 14th century, these freezes were slowly becoming more frequent and more severe. And by the 16th century the frozen Thames was seen safe enough to receive royal favour – Henry VIII, always an adventurous man, is said to have taken a sleigh journey to his palace at Greenwich along the river ice in 1536, and his daughter Elizabeth I is known to have taken walks on the frozen river in 1564.

As time went on, the freezing process was helped by the fact that, prior to a mad outbreak of Victorian bridge building and embankment creation during the 19th century, the Thames was much wider and shallower, and ran much slower than it does now. The many narrow arches of the 12th century London Bridge made the river even more likely to freeze, as they rapidly became blocked by ice which then acted as a dam and encouraged even more ice to form.

'Frost Fair of 1814' by Luke Clenell

The frozen river must have been quite a sight to see on a cold winter’s day in London, particularly in later centuries when the city was rapidly developing and expanding, and the Thames was usually in constant use as a thoroughfare and trade route to and from the port of London and the docks.

A frozen river meant all of the maritime activity and movement and business normally to be seen on the Thames was forced to stop. Boats large and small would have been trapped in the ice, often for weeks on end, meaning that the livelihoods of those who plied their trade on the river (as well as along it) were at risk from the freezing conditions. The diarist John Evelyn commented in the winter of 1683 on the appalling conditions in an iced-over London:

“The fowls, fish and birds, and all our exotic plants and greens universally perishing. Many parks of deer were destroyed, and all sorts of fuel so dear that there were great contributions to keep the poor alive…

London, by reason for the excessive coldness of the air hindering the ascent of the smoke, was so filled with the fuliginous steam of the sea-coal… that one could hardly breath”

In these times before employment protection laws and Jobseeker’s Allowance, the temperature dropping just a few degrees more below zero could be a matter of life and death on many levels and for far too many people. The Little Ice Age must have made life very difficult for ordinary people generally, and for the very poor in particular, but, paradoxically, it could also mean fun and entertainment on the ice itself in the shape of the always-popular Frost Fairs.

The first official Frost Fair was in 1608, but, as we have seen, the frozen river had been used informally for fun and games for far longer than that – there are even records of icy football matches and archery contests on the Thames in the 1560s. Between 1400 and 1815, the Thames seems to have frozen over on at least 24 occasions.

There are no records of whether a Frost Fair was held each time, but they were certainly major events and were always popular with Londoners from all walks of life. Even King Charles II and his court visited the most famous and spectacular of all the 17th century Frost Fairs during the bitter winter of 1683-84. John Evelyn described the excitement and icy diversions on offer to anyone with even the slightest sense of adventure and a few pennies in their pocket:

“Coaches plied from Westminster to the Temple, and from several other stairs too and fro, as in the streets, sleds, sliding with skates, bull-baiting, horse and coach races, puppet plays and interludes, cooks, tippling and other lewd places, so that it seemed to be a bacchanalian triumph, or carnival on the water.”

Out on the ice, there was something for everyone; fairground rides, stalls selling hot food, drink and souvenirs (then as now, there was a lot of money to be made from such retail opportunities!), rowdy games of hockey, football and skittles, the sound of musicians and singers, the sights and smells of a roasting ox or sheep – and even horse races. It’s easy to see how exciting this would have been to so many ordinary Londoners, longing to escape (albeit only for a few hours) from the freezing cold, dirty, poverty-stricken city.

The last Frost Fair was held during the winter of 1814, and amongst the excitements to be found out on the ice was the astounding sight of an elephant being led across the river, not far from Blackfriars Bridge! Other highlights included donkey rides across the frozen Thames, printing presses churning out the 19th century equivalent of souvenir tour programmes and club flyers, booksellers, toysellers, spit-roasted mutton, and lots and lots of booze (of course).

But all this frosty merriment was too good to last, and within less than a week the ice had begun to melt. The Frost Fair melted away with it, never to be seen again. Less than twenty years later, in 1831, the old London Bridge was demolished to make way for a new structure with fewer, wider arches, improving the flow of the Thames in the process. The design of this new bridge, along with the gradually achieved embankment project and a slow warming of the climate, ensured that the river would never again freeze like it did in 1683 and 1814.

I stopped by 1327 7th Avenue last week during my broker tour. This is a newly renovated property featuring eight residential units and a commercial space in a front building, and three townhomes in the rear, with a courtyard in between. There’s an elevator in the front building, and parking is underground.

I was quite impressed with the property (though the bedrooms are on the small side; the king-size bed crowd should stay away). And I was into the idea of the “design that echoes Europe’s terraced cottages.” Prices start at around $1,175,000 for #11, a 2BR/2BA, 1272-sq foot corner unit. I actually liked this unit a lot, due to the numerous windows and outlooks:

List prices top out at $1,395,000 for the two-level, 3BR/2BA, 1631-sq foot unit with two private patios and vaulted ceilings. (The listing office had received an offer on this unit at the time of my visit.) The three townhomes at the rear of the lot in a separate building are priced at around $1,225,000. They feature living/dining/kitchen areas on the main level, and bedrooms upstairs. Downside is that your main living level looks right out onto the courtyard, which doesn’t offer much privacy.

HOA dues are between $500-$600 per month.

So far, one unit in the front building and the commercial unit are in contract. Not bad for only being on the market a couple weeks. It’s a bit of a challenge to find accurate comparable sales; for example, the most expensive condo in the Inner Sunset that sold this year was on 8th Avenue at Kirkham—a remodeled, Marina-style, 2BR/1BA with sunroom and two-car parking that sold in February for $850,000. And in terms of single-family homes, you could’ve bought 1530 8th at Lawton for $1,225,000. This was a remodeled, 1600-sq foot, Arts & Crafts-style 3BR/2.5BA with two-car parking.

With 1327 7th Avenue, you’re got top-notch finishes and presentation, as well as a wildly convenient locale. These properties fall between a condo and a single-family home, and they’re ready to go. So you don’t have to worry about having to install a new roof, take care of termite work, or upgrade to copper plumbing (which is not the case when it comes to those old Edwardians, right?).

Although history has much to say about king Henry VIII there was relatively little interest in him as a child. Although Henry was one of six other children, only four lived to adulthood, Henry himself, two sisters, Margaret and Mary and Henry’s older brother, Arthur.

Arthur was born in 1486 (only one year after his fathers victory at Bosworth) in Winchester and was named after King Arthur. His birthplace was chosen specifically for its connection to King Arthur, at the time, Winchester was believed to be the historical site of Arthur’s court, Camelot.

Henry VII was always aware that his claim to the throne was quite a weak one, it was his intention that associating his son with King Arthur would help to re-enforce his position.

Marriage & early death

Ludlow Morning 3 by geospace on Flickr (Click image)

As part of a further attempt to ensure his position, Henry VII arranged a marriage between his son and the Spanish princess, Catherine of Aragon. Catherine arrived in England in 1501 and the couple were married in St Paul’s cathedral. As Arthur was Prince of Wales the couple headed for Ludlow from where Arthur was head of the Council in charge of Wales.

It was in Ludlow that Arthur died in 1501, possibly of tuberculosis or from ’sweating sickness’ a mysterious and feared illness of the day. The body lay in state in Ludlow for three weeks before being moved for burial.

Ludlow Castle by orrellsphoto on Flickr (Click image)

The Spanish had been a little reluctant to allow the marriage because of fears about the possible overthrow of Henry by rival claimants. There was a possibility that they might even have asked for the dowry to be returned after such a short marriage. In the circumstances, Henry VII acted quickly and Catherine was eventually married to Arthur’s brother Henry.

Worcester Cathedral : Taken by Flash of Light on Flickr (Click image)

Burial at Worcester

Arthur was taken to be buried at Worcester Cathedral where his ornate tomb stands to this day. Prince Arthur’s Chantry is an ornate addition to the Cathedral, and is sited to the right of the Altar. The step leading into the chantry has been worn smooth over the years – it is strange to stand here and imagine that previously Queen Elizabeth the first also passed by here – she is known to have visited the tomb during one of her Royal progressions through Worcestershire.

Heraldic symbols on Prince Arthur’s chantry : by Little Miss Sunnydale (Click image)

The chantry is decorated with carvings of the Tudor rose – note also the pomegranate which is the heraldic symbol of Catherine of Aragon. I suspect (but am not sure) that this would have originally been painted, if anyone knows it would be great to hear from you.

Prince Arthur's tomb by AJK Photography on Flickr (Click image)

The Chantry  at Worcester was seriously damaged during the time of King Edward VI. Many churches suffered at the hands of iconoclasts who believed that reverence for physical objects was akin to ‘idolatory’.

During this period mass books, priests vestments and carved images such as crosses and saints figures were deliberately vandalised. It was during this period that English churches acquired their stripped down and uncluttered appearance that has largely survived to this day.

Iconoclasm on Prince Arthur’s tomb (Little Miss Sunnydale on Flickr)

Worcester Cathedral

The Cathedral overlooks the river Severn in the heart of Worcester. Building commenced in around 1084, over the years the Cathedral has been through many stages of development and features a range of building styles.

Worcester is particularly proud of its choir – I was lucky enough to be there one day when they were practising and it is hard to describe just how wonderful this sounded. If you ever get the chance then you must visit the cathedral – in the meantime, take a look at this video which will give you an idea of what it is like.

PS You may like to check out geospaces photography website & also Worcester Cathedral website – also, if you like the English landscape then do yourself a favour & take a look Neil Dotti’s work ‘Three Counties Photography’

Also take a look at Andrew Kelsalls website

PS Events have conspired to hinder my usual blogging activities – I hope to get back on track over the next few weeks.

Things have been very busy here at Radiomovies Studio – It’s been a long time since the last post!
Sergio has just been shortlisted for the Oscars!!

BBC Radio 3 have playlisted one of my Henry VIII tracks – and I’m releasing an EP any minute of the vocal tracks from the series.

In the dance world, Akram Khan and Sylvie Guillem are to present Sacred Monsters, score by me, in Japan before Christmas.

It looks like a pretty unexceptional watch, does it not? Except that the Tudor brand is Rolex’s more modest sister. Tudor was introduced by Rolex founder Hans Wilsdorf in 1946. The most important difference between Rolex and Tudor is that the Tudors do not have a Rolex manufactured movement, but a rather a modified ETA mechanism.

This is as close to owning a Rollie as I will ever get.

Fun Watch Facts:
1. Few watch companies make their own movements. the list of manufactures includes Rolex, Glashutte Original, Audemars Piguet, Girard-Perregaux and Chopard. This kind of information probably only matters to crazy watch people and to people who are trying to justify spending too much money on a watch.

2. Many watch companies have less expensive lines. Bulova has Caravelle, Hamilton had Vantage, Benrus had Belforte. Secondary lines were mostly introduced to battle bargain brands like Timex. They frequently had non-Swiss movements to keep costs down.

Leeds castle in Kent has a history spanning 900 years and is set on two islands on the River Len – it was home to Royalty, Lords and Ladies.

The Saxon Lord of the Manor – Esledes Robert de Creve Coeur – built this castle in 1119. Then in 1278 it passed into the hands of Royalty and became part of the Queen of England’s dowry settlement.

Over a period of the next 150 years it was held by Medieval Queens such as Eleanor of Castle, Margaret of France, Isabella of France, Joan of Navarre, Anne of Bohemia and Catherine de Valois.

During Tudor times Henry VIII used to visit here quite regularly, with his wife, Queen Catherine of Aragon, for the tournament of Cloth of Gold.

Henry’s son King Edward VI gave it to one of his courtiers for his excellent services and later it was used as a garrison, a prison and a convalescent home to different families like the Culpepers, Fairfaxes and Wykeham Martins.

The stone bridge that you walk across when you enter the castle still looks the same as it did in the 13th century.

In the last 900 years there have been many other changes however, done by various rulers. It has Norman foundation and the Gloriette was built by Edward 1 and later updated during Henry VIII’s times.

The Tudor Tower and 19th Century Country House – were substantially refurbished in the 20th century.

The last owner of the castle were Olive and Lady Baillie and they did not leave it unscathed.

She was an heiress to an American fortune from her mother’s side and also the daughter of an English Lord, she married thrice. It was during her second marriage to Arthur Wilson Filmer that she bought this castle in 1926. She did a complete renovation and brought in the finest French Architects and Designers to create an elegant country residence for herself.

She filled the castle with valuable Art and also Antiques that she collected from her various tours around Europe. She also gave many parties in which lords, politicians and film stars used to come regularly. They all enjoyed the Castle’s new Cinema Halls, Swimming Pools and Tennis Courts, Golf Courses and they used to watch her collections of creatures like the birds and waterfowls, zebras and llamas and of course the usual horses and dogs.

The tower that housed the religious recluse, the maiden tower was built in Tudor times as the castle’s bakery and brewery, and it was used to produce beer that was consumed by all during dining as a safe alternative to water.

During the Baillie’s time they made ‘a bachelor’s quarter’ for houseguests with a cinema and smoking house downstairs. Later on it became the house of her younger daughter until 2003 and it’s now used for special functions and exhibitions.

There is nothing comparable in flight that can be as great as a flight by in an Air Balloon, especially if you fly over Leeds Castle as it presents a breathtaking view from above.

You can fly here a little after sunrise or before the sunset which makes it an exceptional experience that you will remember all your life. Balloon Flights take place between 1st April and 1st November, and your Flight Package includes the flight itself, post flight celebrations and a certificate and entry to Leeds Castle Gardens and Grounds.

Traian Basescu 32,2 %
Mircea Geoana : 31,7%
Crin Antonescu :21,8 %
Vadim Tudor : 4,1 %
Kelmen Hunor 3,6%
Sorin Oprescu 3,5%
George Becali 1, 7%
Rmus Cernea 0,4%
Eduard Manole 0,2%
Constantin Potirca 0,1%
Constantin Rotaru 0,1%
Ovidiu Iane 0,1 %

Participarea la vot ( pana la 19:00)
-La referendum 46,8 %
-La Alegeri Prezidentiale 49,8 %

Referendum : -76 % parlament unicameral
-85,4 % reucerea numerelor de parlamentari

These are some photos I took in October 2009 at the Museum of London.  They are of a very small Leather Costrel which I intend to try to recreate.  I wrote to the MOL and they provided me with a bit of detail.  This costrel was found in 1913:  Acc. no. A10640, H 80 mm; W 85 mm, found: Town ditch, Old Bailey, London EC1; Leather costrel with foliate design.  The measurements I’ve seen so far vary:  80×85mm (MOL), 4 x 33/4″ (Black Jacks and Leather Bottells Baker, Oliver  1921).  Having seen it I think the 4×33/4 (100mmx95mm) seems closer.

Royal Lineage

Din câte am văzut eu cel mai bine în ziua de azi este să fii arbitru. Ai carne destulă în frigider, dacă ai noroc nu îţi iei nici bătaie, înainte de meci dau gazdele masa şi banii, iar după partidă, ai băgat diurna-n buzunar şi te duci acasă. Problema este însă alta. Când te cheamă Tudor şi arbitrezi printre olteni, indiferent de avantajele pe care le ai, este imposibil să scapi neporcăit. Dacă mai şi greşeşti în avantajul oaspeţilor, eşti mâncat definitiv.

Nu e vorba numai de ăştia mici şi negri care arbitrează pe la noi. E vorba şi despre ăia care conduc meciuri pe din afară. Dacă Tudor şi ai lui au calificat practic CFR-ul în semifinalele Cupei României, arbitrul de la Franţa Irlanda a calificat echipa lui Domenech la un Mondial. Şi nu l-am văzut pe Trapattoni cerând rejucarea meciului. Când ai în cap numai mutări la Turnu Severin şi nu-ţi place faţa lui Lupescu, începi şi latri la toţi, inclusiv la ai tăi, la ai lor, la ai noştri, de fapt latri la cine prinzi. Că aşa face românu întreg la cap. E normal. Aşa aş fi făcut şi dacă eram selecţioner al Irlandei. Îi ziceam arbitrului de toţi ştrumfii căutători de aur şi de nestemate, până cerea singur rejucarea meciului. Totuşi una e când greşeşti din postura de Thierry Henry, alta e când te cheamă Costea şi lumea zice că erai sau nu în ofsaid. Totuşi, Tudor, zic eu a arbitrat mai bine Craiova cu Cluj decât a arbitrat Martin Hansson Franţa cu Irlanda.

În prestaţia lui Hansson s-a văzut încă micul nedigerat, oferit de cocoşii galici înaintea partidei, s-a văzut portofelul mai gros şi burta saturată de icre negre. S-a văzut compasiunea unei lumi întregi faţă de o necalificare a vicecampioanei mondiale la un turneu final. Păi, cum mama naibii să nu se califice Franţa la un Mondial? Cine dracu mai joacă dacă nu ajung francezii acolo? Nu se poate. Probabil că în acel minut 103, dacă Irlanda conducea cu 2 la 0, după golul lui Gallas, se mai găseau încă 2-3 penalty-uri de acordat. Dacă se ratau alea se trecea la eliminarea echipei lui Trapattoni de pe teren, urmând ca Franţa să se împartă în 2 echipe, iar meciul să se continue cu Franţa jucând împotriva Franţei, într-un raport de 5,5 jucători de fiecare parte a terenului, totul pentru, bineînţeles, calificarea Franţei. Dacă nici aşa nu mergea, se trecea la loviturile de la 11 metri, unde Franţa ar fi plecat cu un avantaj de 5 goluri avans, urmând ca loviturile Irlandei să fie bătute de cel mai în vârstă spectator de pe stadion, de la jumătatea terenului cu toată echipa francezilor în poartă. Asta ar fi trebuit să meargă sigur.

Aşa că domnu Mititelu, indiferent de câţi bani a dat CFR-ul la Pandurii, de câte sarmale ai băgat tu în brigada de arbitrii înaintea partidei şi indiferent că ai fi imprumutat echipa Barcelonei pentru partida cu formaţia debutantului Mandorlini, tot clujenii ar fi avut câştig de cauză. Pentru că aşa merge în fotbal. Şi la noi şi la alţii.

A recent comment on Destructive Testing of Black Dye finished with the remark:

Love to know your thoughts on that wee little costrel at the MOL sometime….why is it so wee?! why is it such an odd flat oval shape?

The costrel in question is this one, although others are known to exist.

Small costrel in the Museum of London.

Oliver Baker mentions it on p56 of his magnum opus of 1921, Blackjacks and Leather Bottels. I’ll quote the section in full.

One dimuntive but charmingly designed bottle is in the London Museum at Lancaster House, and has, between three vertical raised bands, lines of foliate decoration of Gothic character. It was found in the Town Ditch at the Old Bailey in 1913, and is of great interest as giving a rich example of the bottle of the Middle Ages. It measures nearly four inches [100mm] in length and three and three-quarters [95mm] in height.

Figure 22 from Baker

Baker’s drawing shows it sitting on it’s base rather than lying on it’s back as in the photo at the top, and the base appears flat and much the same shape as my Mary Rose one. It is unclear if Mr Baker was drawing what he saw, or what he thought it should be, however his detail on the decoration is very good. The larger costrel in the same cabinet at the MoL also appears to be ovoid, however looking at the ends, I think I can see that it was originally flatter on the bottom and has slumped in the conditions in the museum.

The leather is thinner than on the larger costrels, so moulding would be easier. From evidence from other sites, the decoration may have been painted.

As for use, we’re getting into Making Things Up ™ territory. Baker’s measurements give it an approximate volume of 300ml, or half a pint, roughly the same as a glass of  drink. That also translates to 2 gills, so two standard measured of gin in the 16th century.

I would love for it to have been for the 15-16th century version of high octane moonshine, but that would disolve the pitch lining. It may have been for a particular drink, or medicine or may have been a scale model to test a new design without using too much expensive leather. They could, like me have an order on the books to make a bottel for a small teenager…

References

Baker, O., Black Jacks and Leather Bottells, privately printed for W.J. Fieldhouse, Cheltenham 1921

Dupa atata frig si ceata
Iar s’arata Băsele
Si cu Geoana chiar in fata
Depasind procentele

Cu Becali, Crin si Tudor
Sfarsitul chiar s’apropie
Parlamentul asta totusi
Nu-i decat o copie

Pe sub nas si mai pe fata
Iar ne fura vietile
A iesit un pui de Băse
Sa ne suga si ea bre

Mircea Geoana iar viseaza
“Romania hiberneaza”
Parlamentul pregateste
Salarii microscopice

Toti taranii, toti din tara
Tipa fara pauza
Doi tarani se iau la cearta
C’ar sa fure mult din tara

Geoana cocotat si prompt
Rasete isterice
Buzunarele-i atarna
Mai mai sa se’mpiedice

Doar Becali razboinicul nu are
Cu ce sapa gropile
Ca de cand cu platile
Garzile cam zbarnaie

Pentru cate tepe a tras si Băse
Cum sa nu se’mbete
Radu Duda aparut de nicaieri
A venit sa smiorcaie

Sta la usa tarii si intr-una ciocane
Ca ar vrea sa fure ce’a ramas .
Romania-i tara plina de extaz
Sa votez? Nu ma duci de nas.

Everyone has heard that Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain commissioned Columbus for his 1492 voyage of exploration. Perhaps few remember that he had struggled for many years to interest other monarchs and rich nobles in Europe in his venture without success. Columbus even sent his brother Bartholomew to Henry VII of England in 1491 looking for money and support.

Henry was a known penny-pincher whose principal preoccupation, as the final victor of the interminable Wars of the Roses, and the first of his royal line, was in founding a solid Tudor dynasty on the English throne. He may have been intrigued by the idea, but had far more important demands on his time and money. But what if Henry VII had agreed, and the conquest of the Americas had gone to the English crown?

There is a historical precedent that tells us England and its monarch were not completely averse to voyages of discovery. “On 5 March 1496 King Henry VII of England gave Giovanni Caboto, known as John Cabot, letters patent with the following charge:

…free authority, faculty and power to sail to all parts, regions and coasts of the eastern, western and northern sea, under our banners, flags and ensigns, with five ships or vessels of whatsoever burden and quality they may be, and with so many and with such mariners and men as they may wish to take with them in the said ships, at their own proper costs and charges, to find, discover and investigate whatsoever islands, countries, regions or provinces of heathens and infidels, in whatsoever part of the world placed, which before this time were unknown to all Christians.” (Wikipedia)

Cabot was financed partly by Bristol merchants and sailed from Bristol. He is credited with being the European discoverer of North America and believed to have landed in what later became Newfoundland. (Here I will forbear from telling any Newfie jokes.) Bristol mariners had long had an interest in discovering or rediscovering an island in the ocean they knew as Hy-Brazil, which they held to be a source of a valuable red dye, so Atlantic voyaging wasn’t completely unknown to them. It’s also believed by many that Portuguese fishermen were already fishing the Grand Banks off Newfoundland before Columbus sailed – they just didn’t hire the right PR firm.

Henry may have had a political reason to authorize the voyage in 1496. Wikipedia again – “Like his contemporary, King Francis I of France, who would send Giovanni da Verrazzano to reconnoiter the eastern seaboard of North America, Henry VII may in part have been motivated by the perceived insolence of the division of the world into two halves by Pope Alexander VI in the Bull Inter Caetera in 1493, which followed the success of Columbus’s first voyage.” While this doesn’t prove that it was possible to persuade Henry to charter the first ocean exploration, it does give an example of what might have transpired from such an undertaking.

Some years ago I wrote a possible first chapter of a novel that had three ships under the Italian navigator Cristoforo Columbo returning up the Thames to report to his patron, Henry VII. I don’t have the material now but I remember anglicizing the names of the actual ships. St Mary is an easy translation; Nina translates roughly as Girl, but its proper name was Santa Clara; Pinta was probably a variant of its owner’s name, Pinzon, which translates as the English chaffinch. Actually the Santa Maria also had a nickname, La Gellega.

The reason for the name varieties probably stems from the impossibly pompous names the Spanish Dons gave to their ships. An aside – the galleon captured by Sir Francis Drake off the South American Pacific coast in 1578 was named “Nuestra Senora de la Concepcion”, but known to the sailors as the “Cacafuego” – the “Shitfire” in plain English.

What would an English Terra Firme have looked like – or the English Main? The alternate history novelist has a tabula rasa for almost any invention desired. I would suggest that Columbus would still have followed his southern route that used the Trade Winds. So the early colonies would still have been Caribbean and Central American. This may well have meant that Giovanni Caboto would have followed a southern route too if he had still made his way to sell his services to the merchants of Bristol. That would probably have made France and Verrazzano undisputed developers of North America – for a few critical years at least.

The history of Cabot and the later English mercantile corporations suggest that the enterprises that followed would have been commercial rather than military – not that English merchants were any more civilized, or less brutal, than Spanish Conquistadors. Henry VIII’s early warships would have been ocean going rather than high-charged carracks of the Mary Rose type, that capsized in battle just off Portsmouth. Where would this alternate history have left Sir Francis Drake, Queen Elizabeth, and the Spanish Armada? The possibilities for the nautical author are almost endless.

Fuente: The Cambridge History of English and American Literature in 18 Volumes (1907–21). Volume III. Renascence and Reformation.

1. Tottel’s Miscellany.

El reinado de Henry VIII no fue un período de continua estabilidad interna. Si bien es cierto que al terminar la Guerra de las Rosas se extendió un sentimiento generalizado de seguridad al establecerse una dinastía fuerte (la dinastía Tudor), los problemas surgidos durante los reinados de Henry VIII y sus sucesores pusieron a prueba la vida social e intelectual de Inglaterra, aunque no consiguieron destruirla.

Inglaterra tenía más o menos controlados sus problemas internos gracias a una acertada aplicación de la política de reconciliación, llegando a ser una potencia a tener en cuenta en el resto de Europa. Al entrar en contacto con otros reinos del continente, la vida intelectual inglesa se sometió, por primera vez, a la influencia del Renacimiento.

Como veremos, la principal inspiración de la Nueva Poesía Inglesa fue casi completamente foránea. Estaba basada en modelos franceses e italianos importados por algunos cortesanos de Henry VIII, que comenzaron a imitarlos.

El alcance de esta práctica no puede ser evaluado en su totalidad, pero investigaciones posteriores mostraron que estaba muy extendida. Para un caballero, escribir poemas suponía la máxima expresión de la cortesía. Quizá no sea exagerado decir que todo hombre educado escribía poemas que posteriormente eran copiados por sus amigos, y que circulaban en manuscritos o eran incluidos en cancioneros.

Sin embargo, no fue hasta 1557 que algunos fueron impresos, por primera vez, por Richard Tottel, en el volumen, Songes and Sonettes, written by the ryght honorable Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other, comúnmente conocido como Tottel’s Miscellany.

Continúa en:

La Nueva Poesía Inglesa (II): Thomas Wyatt
La Nueva Poesía Inglesa (III): Los sonetos de Thomas Wyatt
La Nueva Poesía Inglesa (IV): El tratamiento amoroso en Wyatt
La Nueva Poesía Inglesa (V): Los epigramas, las sátiras y las piezas religiosas de Wyatt

Dimineata pi racoare
Eu ma uit pi cerul mare.
Si-l intreb pe Dumnezeu
Di ce ma ureste asa tare.
Di ce ma bate zi si noapte
Cu tampiti de-ti vine-a moarte.
Di ce nu bate si el odata
Un politician cu burta mare.

Cine-a dat voie
Lui Basescu betivanu
Sa conduca-o tara-ntreaga
Dupa ce si-a vandut vaporu’.
Zice c-a facut el facultatea
Acu multi ani in urma
D-apai i-a picat tot paru’
Iar din creier n-a ramas nici urma.

Mircea Geoana frate
Esti afacerist prea mare
Ca sa te mai cred vreodata
Ca nu vinzi o tara-ntreaga.
Te-ai dus si tu in SUA
Intre prosti mai mari ca tine
Ca sa vezi cum poti fura
Si de la destepti ca mine.

Becali, marele maestre
Plangi de fras ai dupa minge
Si cand nu mai ai in ce da suturi
Tragi un sut in Romanie.
Gura-ti pute-a ceapa
Si-n loc sa fii destept
S-o-nchizi, strans si bine
Tu urlii si mai tare.

Stimabile, Kelemen Hunor
Esti frate bun cu Vadim Tudor.
Amandoi fixisti ca naiba
Nu vreti decat sa reinventati tara.
Tu pe marele Ardeal
El pe marea Romanie
Insa tot ce faceti
Provoaca dusmanie.

Ma uit pi cerul mare
Si-l intreb pi Dumnezeu
Cum de la noi dicteaza
Cei ce traiesc din talharie.
Cei ce nu se simt
N-au decat sa nu se simta
Cei care-s in cauza
Si-si traga-un glont in tampla.

Sunt si eu un biet roman
Fara bani si fara casa
Va jignesc doar
Fiindca imi e burta goala.
Apai sa-mi iertati parerea,
Ca v-am facut de tot cacatu’
De amu va suparati
Inseamna c-am zis adevaru’.

Portrait of Mary Tudor, 1516

Mary Tudor (1516-1558) was the main character of one of the bloodiest periods in English history. Hammer of heretics, she re-instated Catholicism in her kingdom, prosecuting Protestants mercilessly, filling the Tower of London with prisoners and ordering the execution of hundreds of Calvinists. The atmosphere of terror and fanaticism she created earned her the nickname of ‘Bloody Mary’.

Mary Tudor, or Bloody Mary, Queen of England, was born in 1516. Her mother was Catherine of Aragon, the Spanish Catholic Kings’ daughter, and her father was the famous Henry VIII. In 1533 Henry managed to have the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Cranmer, declare his marriage to Catherine null and void, causing England to plunge into a break with Rome and the creation of an Anglican Church at the following year. Mary’s parents’ divorce had two direct consequences: she lost her place in the succession line, and the court increased the pressure for her to abandon Catholicism. The latter would mean that she had to accept the fact that her parents’ marriage had taken place against God’s law. As a result, she spent her youth as a recluse, under a permanent state of vigilance and threat, defending her mother’s memory. During this period she turned to Catholicism as her only salvation, in the middle of an environment of ever-growing heresy and hostility towards her person. Without a doubt, the only thing which saved her from a physical elimination (plotted more than once by her enemies) was the sympathy of some sectors of the English aristocracy. They were not inclined to the implementation of Protestantism, but they were also fearful of the reaction of Mary’s powerful cousin Charles V.

When Henry VIII died in 1547 the crown fell upon his son, Mary’s step-brother, Edward VI, under whose ruling Protestantism kept on spreading, leading to the destruction of imagery and other repressive measures taken against Catholics. This earned the young ruler Calvin’s effusive congratulations. During his reign, Mary lived in a golden reclusive state but suffering from several illnesses, which eventually became chronic ailments. Despite having been dispossessed of the title of Princess of Wales, she occupied the second place in the succession line, something she had managed to achieve three years earlier, right after having been reconciled with her father, thanks to, in part, the intervention of one of his wives, Jane Seymour, who had been Catherine of Aragon’s lady-in-waiting. When tuberculosis killed the childless Edward VI, Mary gained access to the throne. She had to face a Protestant conspiracy, but she managed to suppress it due to the popular support London’s citizens gave her.

At long last, at 37, she became Queen of England. She felt that it was time to put things back the way they should, and this went through restoring Catholicism. To start with, she did not hesitate in executing the head of the Protestant conspiracy, the Duque of Northumberland, together with two of his accomplices. A few days later she restored Latin masses, and excluded married priests. Catholic bishops had their positions restored at the expense of their Protestant counterparts -several of them were actually sent to prison. Among the latter was Cranmer, who was interned in the Tower of London, accused of having participated in the conspiracy plot.

Despite being able to carry out these changes, Mary was aware of the fact that she had to get married urgently and provide offspring if she wanted to be successful in her implementation of Catholicism and to thwart her enemies’ plans. It was the only thing she could do in order to push her Protestant step-sister Elizabeth out of the accession line completely. Nevertheless, this was not an easy task. Mary was already of an age and she had lost her youth and the beauty which, according to some, she had had in the past. Apparently, and given her preference to sweets, she had barely any teeth, although without a doubt she was in possession of other positive aspects, like an exquisite formal education and an undoubtedly resilient character forged in the face of adversity.

Mary accepted Charles V’s proposal to marry his son Philip just a month after she was crowned. Philip was 11 years her junior and recently widowed. Her powerful cousin was evidently a good catch: a young and handsome man, a perfect support in her determination to defend the throne from Protestant ambitions. All of this also coincided with the Emperor’s interests, who aimed to unite the territories of Flanders, Bourgogne and England under a common flag, so as to be able to better defend his continental possessions from French coveting. On his part, though, the young Philip was in the least interested in marrying Mary, but he agreed to it as an order being given by his father, as well as a necessary state mission: to produce an heir for the crowns of Flanders and England.

As expected, the Protestant factions firmly opposed themselves to the wedding, encouraged and supported by the French agents who were weary of what the wedding might bring about. Especially fearful of the Spaniard were all those nobles who had enriched themselves with the expropriation of ecclesiastical properties. Having said that, all their attempts at dethroning Mary failed, and several noblemen, among them the Duque of Suffolk, ended up on the gallows of the sinister Tower of London. Undoubtedly, this managed to convince the English Parliament to finally approve the wedding. Despite their agreement, matrimonial surrenders were very strict and established, among other dispositions, that were Mary to die childless, her husband lose any right to the throne. While negotiations were taking place, the Queen requested a portrait of her future husband. She was sent one signed by Titian; legend says that she fell in love with Philip upon seeing it.

The wedding finally took place in June 1554. A few weeks earlier Mary had had to suppress yet another Protestant revolt. People were not prepared to allow her to marry the ‘Demon of the South’, as the Spanish prince was known. She ordered the execution of all its leaders. It was becoming more and more obvious that as long as heresy had a place in England she would never be safe in the throne. For his part the groom, conscious both of his state role and of the hornets’ nest he was walking into, made efforts to please the English: he brought with him a million ducats in cash to give away, he drank stout, took part in a tournament in which he fell to the ground and he even managed to mumble a couple of sentences in English. His behaviour greatly pleased the English. He presented his bride with magnificent precious stones, which she wore on their wedding day. Mary was seen to be happy and the chronicles state that, after their wedding, both spouses devoted themselves intently to the task of producing the longed-for heir.

Catholicism was restored officially in November 1554. This meant going back to Roman obedience, which the English Parliament would endorse in January of the following year.  At the same time, and in order to pacify the nobility, it was announced that no expropriated lands would be reclaimed by the Catholic Church -only the assets which had gone to the Crown would be returned. Despite these concessions, Mary, feeling strengthened by her marriage, perhaps moved by revenge and determined to defend her throne, devoted herself in earnest to prosecute Protestants. After successfully achieving Parliament to restore anti-heresy laws in December of the same year, she devoted herself completely in her purifying task.

The few arrests were carried out in January 1555. The first person to be executed was canon John Rogers, a married priest, for not retracting his predicament. It was the 4th of February. John Hooper, bishop of Gloucester, followed him. Years before he had not avoided telling whoever he pleased that every single Catholic priest should be drowned. He was not drowned but burnt alive at the following month, right in front of his own Cathedral. Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, followed next. He was an example of a convert and fanatic in any situation: years earlier, behaving as the perfect Catholic, he had not hesitated to send to the stake all of those who refused the dogma of transubstantiation. After converting to Protestantism, he had done the same to all of those who stood by it. Later on Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley, bishops of Worcester and London respectively, were also sentenced for refusing to retract from their beliefs, despite being tortured. Another victim was John Philpott, archdeacon of Westminster. It goes without saying that several thousands more were imprisoned for having been found in possession of heretical writings. All of those who showed compassion or sympathy for the executed ones were arrested.

Curiously enough, Philip tried to placate the harshness of Mary’s prosecutions, in contrast to how, years later and once a king, he would behave in Flanders and Spain. Through his confessor he sent messages to Catholic bishops advising them benevolence and tolerance. His goal was to earn the sympathy of his new subjects, whether Catholic or Protestant, and an excessive repressive rigour was not in his best interests. Of all his arrangements, one was particularly significant: he managed to convince Mary to free his sister-in-law Elizabeth, who was imprisoned in the Tower of London accused of conspiracy. Months later, his pleas were decisive for her not to be imprisoned again, or for her to be pushed out of the succession line. The truth is that, despite the founded misgivings she felt towards her step-sister, Mary was incapable of refusing any petition coming from her husband, for whom she felt a blind love. Who was to tell the future Philip II that he had possibly saved the life and position in the throne of a woman who in time would become one of his most bitter enemies!

With retrospect, the Queen’s harsh treatment of Protestants cannot be understood without taking into account her enormous frustration for not being able to get pregnant. In a serious case of wishful thinking, at one point the miserable Mary was convinced that she was expecting a child: she did not menstruate, had a swollen belly, suffered from fainting spells, felt generally unwell and she could swear that she could feel the fetus move. It was even announced that the longed-for heir would be born in April 1555. She was so convinced of it that she used to spend hours sitting on the floor with her knees pressed against each other in order to help accelerate the birth, while at the same time she had her sister Elizabeth knit clothes for the future baby. But alas, the date arrived and the Queen’s belly deflated. Some Catholic fanatics, like Bonner, bishop of London, attributed the let down to a divine punishment for not having been more assertive against Protestants. Mary’s reaction to this was an immediate re-doubling of their prosecution. For years it was thought that she suffered psychological pregnancies caused by a presumed hysterical nature, but nowadays we know the true cause: she had an enormous tumor in her ovaries, which was slowly and painfully killing her. Meanwhile her husband, disillusioned by the lack of heirs and tired of a marriage of convenience, slowly started to get further away from her, finding shelter in the arms of young ladies-in-waiting. After a while, with the excuse of the Emperor’s abdication, he flew to Flanders in August 1555. This only increased the despair and sadness of a woman who found herself lonelier every day: her husband did not correspond her love, the son she so longed for did not arrive and she was surrounded by conspiratorial heretics.

When, after having been away for a year, Philip, already King of Spain, went back to England in March 1557, he only did so in order to request men and money for his war against France. Mary waited for him by the Greenwich docks, carefully made up and wearing a brand new dress for the occasion. Contrary to what her husband felt, she still believed in the possibility of having a child. She devoted herself earnestly to the task of procreation.

After spending four months with her, and having secured the help of the English, Philip II returned to Flanders in order to direct the war against France. His wife, crying a river, kissed him farewell asking him to return soon. A song has survived from such an emotional moment: ‘Gentle Prince of Spain / Come, oh, come again…’ ^[1]

They never saw each other again. Either out of desperation or madness, a few weeks later Mary sent him a messenger reassuring him she was with child. Philip II did not believe it and sent the Duke of Feria^[2] to verify that claim. The latter denied the rumour explaining that it was caused by the fact that the Queen found herself sadder and sicker by the day. She spent all day praying for the son which would never arrive and for her husband’s health, to whom she sent love letters on a daily basis, and to which he replied using cold and formal sentences. Thus, month after month, barely leaving her chamber, Mary languished. The only thing helping her soothe the aches in her body and soul was laudanum, which she took while staring ceaselessly at her beloved’s portrait next to her bed. The upsetting news of the loss of Calais at the hands of the French, the last of England’s stands in the Continent, worsened her illness. She only recovered slightly weeks before her death, coinciding with the arrival of Philip II’s confessor. He was there in order to make sure that Mary would nominate her sister Elizabeth as heiress, since the king used saw his sister-in-law as the best of the worst, and even considered the possibility of marrying her. Poor Mary thought that her husband’s arrival would follow shortly the priest’s, going through a feeble recovery for a few days, but after a while, disillusioned, she broke down again. She died in November 1558, aged 42.

All in all, from January 1555 until right before her death Mary sent to the stake to 283 Protestants, 51 of which were women. Many others who died while imprisoned. A few thousands had to go on exile and despite the fact that initially the Queen let them be, her progressive radicalization took her to send spies overseas. The orders were to murder the most prominent dissidents. Interestingly, though, despite several prelates losing their lives, not a single nobleman was executed. In fact, the vast majority of her victims were humble people who had enthusiastically or fanatically devoted themselves to the new faith, which meant that her prosecution created a deep solidarity towards the victims. Both her cruel repression, and the loss of Calais had discredited Mary and provoked, after her death, the fall of the Catholic structure she had helped re-build. England was never to be Catholic again, but the horror of the religious prosecution she created left such a deep imprint in just four years that, when she died the opposite religious prosecution caused relatively few executions: under Protestant rule since 1535, including Henry VIII’s reign, until 1679, only 379 people were executed on religious grounds, a proportionately small number if we compare it to the amount of people Mary ordered to be executed. She was given the nickname of Bloody Mary, although nowadays it only remains as a reference to the delicious cocktail based on tomato juice.

**********************************************************************

[1] ‘The Lamentable Complaint of Queen Mary for the Unkind Departure of King Philip, in Whose Absence She Fell Sick, and Died’
The tune is ‘Crimson Velvet’. Available in http://www.archive.org/stream/earlyenglishpoet15perc/earlyenglishpoet15perc_djvu.txt

Mary doth complain;

Ladies, be jou moved
With my lamentations

And my bitter moans:
Philip King of Spain,

Whom in heart I loved,
From his royal queen

Unkindly now is gone.
Upon my bed I lie,
Sick and like to die:

Help me, ladies, to lament!
For in heart I bear,
He loves a lady dear

Better can his love content.
Oh Philip! most unkind,
Bear not such a mind,

To leave the daughter of a king:
Gentle Prince of Spain,
Come, oh come again,

And sweet content to thee I’ll bring.

(Translator’s note).

[2] Gomes III Suárez de Figueroa y Córdoba was at the time V Count of Feria (1552–1567); it was not until 1567 that he was created Duke of Feria by King Philip II of Spain (1567–1571). (T.’s note)

———- Translated from “La reina sanguinaria”, by Juan Carlos Losada. Published in El País on 16.10.2005. Available in http://www.elpais.com/articulo/portada/reina/sanguinaria/elpeputec/20051016elpepspor_9/Tes (last accessed 10.11.2009)

the merchants house (Circa 1558) Avoncroft nr Bromsgrove: Photo by Ruth 1066 on Flickr : click image

The black and white appearance of housing has become very closely associated with the Tudor period – arguably it is the most widely recognised architectural style – in the world?

Perhaps this is why the header image at the top of ‘Tudor Stuff’ shows such a building (actually it is the side of Anne Hathaway’s cottage). As will be discussed on this blog at a later date, this association may not be completely accurate. However, in this post I decided to look at other features of period architecture.

Tudors by the fire by Ruth1066 on Flickr : Click image

Chimneys

In previous times, homes would burn wood on open fires in the middle of the house. The smoke from this was vented through an opening in the roof. Take a look at the picture at the top of this post – the Merchants house at Avoncroft museum. This house which was built in approximately 1558 did not have a chimney – note the opening on the left hand side of the roof.

As coal use became more widespread the need for chimneys to take away the increased smoke became necessary. Also, anyone who has ever tried to light a coal fire will know that the downdraft from the chimney is really important in getting the fire going.

At this time, a lot of land and property was passing from religious institutions to a new class of wealthy landowner. Many of these people built large houses and an important reason for these houses was to show off wealth and prestige. One way of doing this was to incorporate lots of chimneys into the design – coal was still relatively scarce & this was a way of demonstrating wealth.

Tudor chimneys by stevesheriw on flickr

Fire!

Fire was an ever-present risk – especially amidst closely packed timber and thatched houses. Although some areas required people to have a bucket on standby, there was little in the way of fire fighting equipment or organisation.

In the long winters nights people would have gathered around the fire, partly for the warmth but also because this would have been one of the main sources of light.

A lot of superstitions grew up around fire – for example coals burning in a hollow heap is a sign that a parting is soon to occur. Cinders flying from the fire might mean a birth was to take place whereas in other areas it was the custom to spit on cinder – if it crackled this meant wealth was on the way.

Tudor Chimney Pot: by Fire Rocket on Flickr

Bricks

Many of the chimneys in this period feature extravagant brickwork – brick making and laying became well recognised crafts during the Tudor period.

On big projects, bricks were made on site by specialist craftsmen. The bricks produced had a tendency to vary in size – necessitating quite thick layers of mortar to straighten things out.

In places bricks were deliberately discoloured to make elaborate patterns when laid – as can be seen in this example from Hampton Court.

decorated tudor brickwork by rabinal on flickr (click image)

If anyone knows of any good examples of Tudor structures & especially if there are any good pictures  then please let me know – I would happily make some space on the blog for them.

Fuente: The Norton Anthology of English Literature. Stephen Greenblatt, general editor. (Norton & Company, 2006).

Antecedentes: Adaptación de la Rima 190 de Petrarca, quizá influenciada por los comentarios de algunos críticos del poeta italiano, que aseguraron que los ciervos de César llevaban escrito al cuello “Noli me tangere quia Caesaris sum” (No me toques, pues soy del César), estando entonces a salvo de otros cazadores. Se ha dicho que este soneto de Wyatt hace referencia a Anne Boleyn, ya que Henry VIII comenzó a interesarse por ella en 1526.

Versión en inglés

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is a hind,
But as for me, alas!  I may no more,
The vain travail hath wearied me so sore;
I am of them that furthest come behind.
Yet may I by no means my wearied mind
Draw from the deer; but as she fleeth afore
Fainting I follow; I leave off therefore,
Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.
Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt
As well as I, may spend his time in vain!
And graven with diamonds in letters plain,
There is written her fair neck round about;
“Noli me tangere; for Cæsar’s I am,
And wild for to hold, though I seem tame”.

Traducción libre al español

Quien quiera cazar, sé dónde hay una cierva,
Pues para mí, ¡ay!, se terminó.
Tan frívolo trabajo me ha cansado tanto,
Que de todos los cazadores soy el que más lejos ha llegado tras la presa.
Aunque pudiese alcanzarla, de ningún modo mi agotado espíritu
Batiría a la cierva, ya que ella huiría
Desmayándome yo al seguirla. Por eso lo dejé y
Desde entonces intento atrapar el viento con una red.
A quien quiera cazarla puedo asegurarle
Que al igual que yo perderá su tiempo en vano.
Ya que grabado con diamantes en letras claras
Hay escrito, alrededor de su hermoso cuello,
“Noli me tangere”, pues del César soy,
Y es difícil de retener, aunque parezca mansa.

Audio

Para escuchar este poema, haz clic aquí.

The death of Queen Elizabeth 1st : Paul Delaroche (1828)

In the spring of 1603, Elizabeth had been Queen for 44 years, and it was clear she would die without an heir. Robert Devereux (1566-1601) had been executed on Tower Green on 25th February 1601, and this appears to have had a huge impact on Elizabeth who is reported to have missed him a great deal.  Some writers say she may have feared she was losing her hold on state affairs.  Elizabeth must have felt very much alone as many of the men she had loved, and who had shared her life, had gone.

Roert Deveraux - 2nd Earl of Essex an ex - favourite of the Queen and in 1601 the last man to be beheaded on Tower Green

March 1603 – the Queen is fading

In March 1603 Elizabeth was described as being unwell and seemed depressed.   She took up residence in one of her favourite palaces – Richmond – close to the River Thames.   She refused to allow herself to be examined, and she refused take to her bed – standing for hours on end.  As her condition deteriorated her ladies-in-waiting spread cushions on the floor, and Elizabeth eventually lay down on them.  The painting shown here depicts this scene beautifully.  Elizabeth lay on the floor for nearly four days – mostly without speaking.

She grew weaker and weaker until her servants insisted on making her more comfortable in her bed.   Elizabeth’s Councillors gathered around her bed, and it is said that gentle music was played to soothe her.

Cause of death?

Elizabeth had not named yet named a successor, but she made a sign to Robert Cecil which he took to be an indication that she wished James to succeed her to the throne. Death finally came on 24 March 1603, and she is said to have yielded ‘mildly like a lamb, easily like a ripe apple from the tree’.

Elizabeth was buried without post mortem so the cause of her death remains unknown. She is generally believed to have died of blood poisoning, possibly caused by her white make-up – ceruse – a mixture of white lead and vinegar; the lead in the make up being highly poisonous. It is also possible that she simply died of old age.

At her funeral on 28 April, the coffin was taken to Westminster Abbey on a hearse drawn by four horses hung with black velvet

Elizabeth’s body was embalmed and laid in state in a lead coffin at Whitehall – having been carried from Richmond to Whitehall at night on a barge lit with torches.  On the day of her funeral on 28 April the coffin was taken to Westminster Abbey on a hearse drawn by four horses robed in black velvet. In the words of the chronicler John Stow:

“Westminster was surcharged with multitudes of all sorts of people in their streets, houses, windows, leads and gutters, that came out to see the obsequy, and when they beheld her statue lying upon the coffin, there was such a general sighing, groaning and weeping as the like hath not been seen or known in the memory of man”

Over one thousand official mourners joined the funeral procession; and this crowd was swelled by the many Londoners who watched the procession go by. The coffin was covered with a purple velvet cloth, purple signifying royalty. The coffin was covered by a large canopy which was held by six Knights of the Realm. On top of the coffin was placed an effigy of Elizabeth, as she would have appeared dressed in the finest of clothes. The effigy was so life-like it made onlookers gasp. The chief mourners were all dressed in black – in cloth which varied according to their rank.

This long procession wound its way to Westminster Abbey where Elizabeth was first buried in the vault of her grandfather, King Henry VII.  Her successor, James I, erected the large white marble monument to her memory in the north aisle of the Lady Chapel at a cost of £1485, and her body was moved to it in 1606. Elizabeth I was the last monarch buried in the Abbey to have a monument erected above her.

You want to know about me?

Really?

REALLY?

Fine, you asked for it!

Ok, so I’m 19, I live on the South Coast of England, I am blonde, quite short and I like rasperries, sushi, glowsticks and cats. My life at the moment seems to be split into 4 parts: 3 parts social and 1 part academic (actually, that’s always the proportions I seem to prioritise into) and these are:

University: I’ve just started an art foundation year. It’s not going amazingly at the moment, but I’m hoping once we get to the stage where we can do whatever we want, it’ll improve. And, as I worked out this morning, I’m a quarter of the way through my course already! (It’s only one year long.)

Sailing: My whole family is really into this, and living right next to the sea as we do, it’s a big part of our lives. The local sailing club is where I spend most of my weekends, and most of my summer is spent on a boat of some sort! I’ll admit now though, I’m a bit of a fairweather sailor – come November I’d rather be snuggled up in the clubhouse with a hot chocolate than freezing my wetsuit boots off on the water!

Tudor Reenacting: Ok, a somewhat unusual hobby I know, and again something my whole family does. I’ve been doing it all my life, and it’s very special to me. The people I meet doing it are some of the most amazing and lovely people ever, and it’s such a hoot! My friends all think it’s some kind of weird orgy cult… and actually I guess you could call it that… but it’s A M A Z I N G it really is! For more info visit www.kentwell.co.uk

And last but CERTAINLY not least, my old school friends. Some have gone off to uni this year and others are on gap years, but I am missing them all lots – I loved my school A LOT and I really do miss it – the people, the teachers, the whole atmosphere and collective sense of humour that there seemed to be there. Oh dear how cheesy does that sound! But it’s true anyway, so yuppp!

So, each of these things are equally imporant in my mind (ok ok, maybe I’m lying a little bit: I tend to think that the social side is more important than uni!!!) so I expect that you shall hear a lot more about all of these things in the not-so-distant future. However, for fear of boring you, dear readers, I shall call it a night (I correct myself, a morning) since I am rather tired and am teaching some kids how to sail tomorrow! (Oh help, I hope I won’t drown them)!

Pip pip!

Lucy