History Harvest

On this day in 1189, King Henry II of England died at Chinon Castle. Henry was the very first Plantagenet king of England, and though his eventful life could be the subject of many posts (ooh, foreshadowing!), today we’re focusing on how he led a new dynasty to the throne.

Before we dive in, though, a note: you’re going to see the name Henry repeated throughout this article. A lot. For that matter, there are also quite a few Matildas in this story, but as we’re focused on one particular Henry and his mother, Matilda, I’ll refer to the others primarily by their relationship to our main duo whenever possible.

Henry and Matilda…and Henry…and another Henry….

Henry I as depicted in the 14th century

Henry Plantagenet’s claim to the English throne came through his mother, Matilda. Matilda was the eldest child of Henry I of England, who was in turn son of William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy, who became the first Norman king of England after he won the Battle of Hastings in 1066. Matilda also had a younger brother, William Adelin, who was Henry I’s sole legitimate son.

The Empress

Matilda spent only the first few years of her childhood in England, as she was soon sought out as a bride for Henry V (another one!) of the Holy Roman Empire. As this was an enormous honor for Matilda and a boost to her father’s prestige, young Matilda was sent off to Germany to be raised and prepared there for her future role as queen and empress.

Matilda was married in January 1114, and even though disagreements between her new husband and the Pope meant that she was never officially crowned empress, she still adopted the title and used it for the rest of her life. Matilda also gained first-hand experience in leading and governing during her time in the Holy Roman Empire, as her husband left her in charge as regent several times during his absences. In 1118, Matilda ruled Henry’s Italian holdings while he put down a rebellion in Germany, yet despite being only 16, she proved herself to be effective and capable in the role. These experiences undoubtedly shaped her belief in a woman’s ability to govern, which would play a significant role in her future.  

Empress Matilda

Catastrophe in the Channel

Disaster struck Matilda’s family in 1120 when her brother, William, drowned in the sinking of the White Ship as it sailed from Normandy back to England. Despite his numerous illegitimate offspring, Matilda’s father never had any further legitimate sons, and his queen had died two years before. Henry I remarried quickly, hoping to produce another legitimate heir, but suddenly the future of the English crown was very much in question. 

The sinking of the White Ship, 1120

Despite the uncertainty in her homeland, Matilda remained secure and settled until May 1125, when her husband also passed away. Henry V left her with lands and property in Germany, and though she seemed content to remain in her adopted country, her father demanded her return to England. Matilda initially resisted, but as she was his sole remaining heir, she capitulated eventually. 

Oaths in England

Matilda had returned to her father’s court by Christmastime 1126. Despite his remarriage to Adeliza of Louvain nearly six years before, Henry I still had no new son, and he realized that he must make arrangements of some kind to protect the kingdom in the event of his death. He took the unusual step of commanding his barons to swear fealty to his only living heir, Matilda. 

Even though Matilda was now recognized as his heir, Henry I never envisioned a future where she fully occupied the English throne herself, alone and in her own right. Instead, he looked to Matilda to do what he could not: remarry and produce a son, who would then inherit his grandfather’s throne. Matilda’s primary role was to be the bridge between generations, safeguarding the Norman kingship until her son could don the crown. In 1127, Henry announced his choice for his daughter’s next husband: Geoffrey of Anjou, the son of Henry’s old enemy.

Geoffrey of Anjou

An Angevin Alliance?

Henry I might have been pleased with his announcement, but he was nearly the only one who was. Matilda was furious; she despised her intended, who was 11 years her junior, as an immature boy, and she considered him to be wildly inferior in terms of noble rank. How could she, an empress, even consider marrying the son of a mere count? It was unthinkable!

Many of the English barons disliked the idea as well. Historically, Normandy and Anjou had been tense rivals, so those barons with a Norman background instinctively mistrusted their longtime enemies. Nor did they want any Angevin getting so close to the English throne; the prevailing assumption of the time was that the husband was in charge in any marriage, regardless of social rank, so the barons feared Geoffrey’s interference if he became Matilda’s spouse. 

Rather than viewing the situation as a risk, Henry I saw it as an opportunity to eliminate an enemy and further safeguard the Anglo-Norman holdings. By creating an alliance with Anjou, he intended to protect Normandy’s southern borders and reduce the risk of invasion on the edges of his territory. So regardless of his daughter’s rage and the misgivings of his barons, Henry proceeded with the marriage negotiations. 

A New Hope

Matilda’s second marriage took place in 1128. Despite several years of tumultuous relations between Geoffrey and Matilda, their first son was born in 1133. This newest Henry, known as Henry Plantagenet (after his father’s family) or as Henry FitzEmpress (meaning “son of the empress”), carried all his family’s weighty ambitions on his tiny shoulders.

With baby Henry’s birth, it looked as though all of his grandfather’s plans were coming to fruition. All the old king needed to do now was hold things together for a few more years, and then the dynastic disaster triggered by the White Ship’s sinking would be averted. Unfortunately for England, fate had other plans.

Betrayal or Absolution?

Little more than two years later, Henry I fell ill and died on December 1, 1135. Most accounts reported that Henry reaffirmed Matilda as his heir on his deathbed, but some later swore that in his last moments, Henry absolved his barons of their previous oaths, clearing the way for another claimant to the throne.

That claimant was Henry’s nephew, Stephen of Blois. Stephen had long been close to the old king and had sworn his own oaths to Matilda, yet upon hearing the news of his uncle’s death, he raced to London to claim the crown.

King Stephen

On the other side of the Channel, Matilda had been counting on the loyalty of the English barons to preserve the throne for herself and her son. Some did remain true, but many switched allegiances and accepted Stephen instead. Whether they did so because they believed that Henry I had actually changed his mind (or at least chose to believe so to ease their consciences after breaking their oaths), or because they feared the combination of an unprecedented female ruler with a distrusted Angevin consort, the outcome was the same: suddenly, Matilda found herself without the support of the nobles she needed.

An Aside About Kingship

At this point in our story, we should recall that in 12th century England, kingship did not transfer from one ruler to another the same way it did in later centuries. At this time, the passage of the crown from father to heir was not yet assumed as an established custom, nor was there any automatic conferral of kingship to the next heir at the exact time of the previous king’s death. The previous ruler had the right to name his successor, whether that be a blood relative or not, but until certain formalities were undertaken by or on behalf of that successor, the country was leaderless and vulnerable.

Taken together, these nuances meant that not only was the crown NOT automatically assumed to belong to Henry I’s child (and/or designated heir), but also that as of the moment Henry I took his last breath, there was no king – and therefore no king’s laws – in England until the next ruler was determined. No wonder so many people of England were content to embrace the first claimant, a man who did have a reasonable familial claim to the throne, in order to preserve peace and order. 

Anarchy

Based on what we’ve already witnessed about Matilda’s nature, you will likely not be surprised to learn that she did not simply accept that Stephen got the better of the situation. Instead, Matilda started planning her path to reclaiming her rightful inheritance. In 1139, the Empress was joined by her half-brother, Robert of Gloucester. Robert was  thought to be Henry I’s favorite illegitimate son, and though he initially accepted Stephen’s usurpation, he soon came to regret that decision. He fully committed his resources and military experience to asserting his half-sister’s claim.

The next several years, which later became known as the Anarchy, were a difficult time for the people of England. Civil war broke out and battles between Stephen’s troops and Matilda’s forces, led by Robert, took place across the country, causing damage and disrupting lives. Neither side seemed able to gain and hold an advantage as the tide of momentum swept back and forth. 

In February 1141, it seemed that Stephen’s luck had run out. He was captured at Lincoln and taken prisoner, and for several months that summer, Matilda was recognized as ruler and known as the Lady of the English. Then in September, it was Matilda’s turn to suffer a grave setback, as Robert of Gloucester was captured and Matilda was forced to negotiate a prisoner exchange with Stephen’s wife. Stephen was released in exchange for Robert’s return, and any gains the Empress had made vanished.

Depiction of the Battle of Lincoln, from Historia Anglorum

Late in the spring of 1142, Stephen besieged Matilda at Oxford, and it appeared that he might finally claim the victory. Yet Matilda escaped by night with a handful of knights as escorts; they wore white cloaks to blend in with the snowy landscape, then escaped through Stephen’s lines and traveled six miles to safety. She had eluded Stephen once more, but still neither side gained a significant advantage.

Periods of fighting persisted until 1147, when Robert of Gloucester, Matilda’s staunchest ally and vital supporter, passed away. Worn down and without her chief commander, Matilda relinquished her fight to gain the throne for herself, and instead passed her claim on to her son, Henry, to pursue.

Reaching a Resolution

Henry FitzEmpress engaged Stephen’s forces in battle now and again over the following years until 1153, when after a period of stalemate, supporters of both Henry and Stephen urged them to make a settlement. In early August, the two men finally reached agreement on the Treaty of Wallingford. Under the terms of the treaty, Stephen would remain king, but Henry would be named Stephen’s heir and would assume the throne after his death.

Stephen died on October 25, 1154, exhausted after the long fight for his kingdom and the recent deaths of his wife and son. Henry II was crowned king in Westminster Abbey on December 19, 1154, becoming the first king of the Plantagenet dynasty. That dynasty would go on to rule England for over 300 years, until the battle of Bosworth in 1485 saw the last Plantagenet king slain in battle and the crown picked up by a new dynasty: the Tudors.

King Henry II
Empress Matilda

As for Matilda, she spent her remaining years counseling her son and serving as his regent in Normandy. Upon her death in 1167, she was buried in the abbey of Bec-Hellouin. Her inscription reads ‘Great by birth, greater by marriage, greatest in her offspring, here lies the daughter, wife and mother of Henry.’ 

And that, folks, is how the Plantagenet dynasty got its start – but it’s just that, a start! We’ll have plenty more to learn from this exciting, if contentious, family line.

Related post: learn about the botanical basis of the dynasty’s name!

Sources and Further Reading

Norton, E. (2015). England’s Queens: From Boudica to Elizabeth of York. Amberley. 

Lewis, M. (2019). Stephen and Matilda’s civil war. Pen & Sword History. 

SPENCER, C. (2021). The White Ship: Conquest, Anarchy and the Wrecking of Henry I’s Dream. William Collins. 

Jones, D. (2014). The Plantagenets: The Warrior Kings and Queens Who Made England. Penguin Books

https://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/matilda-daughter-of-henry-i-a-queen-in-a-kings-world/

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From Thomas More’s illustrated manuscript on the coronation of Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon (1509)

Pomegranate. Rose. Neither of these blooming beauties are likely to strike fear into one’s heart at their mere mention of their names, yet almost 500 years ago this week, the Pomegranate did indeed defy England’s royal Rose.  

No, this description isn’t of some type of horticultural Street Fighter matchup (though that DOES sound interesting).  Instead, it refers to medieval European emblems that were used to represent important families and individuals. In an age when most of the population was illiterate, recognizable symbolism played a key role in communicating a person’s identity, prestige and societal rank.  Chosen not simply according to personal preference but often for a common symbolic meaning, the choice of one’s heraldic emblem or badge could convey a message about its owner’s character, aspirations, and even lineage.

A pomegranate tree

The Pomegranate:  Katherine of Aragon, Queen of England

The pomegranate has a long and symbolic history in much of the Mediterranean region, including the ancient Egyptian, Jewish and Greek cultures. The many seeds of its fruit represented fertility, life and marriage, and its rounded shape could represent an imperial orb, symbolizing imperial rule. With such associations, the pomegranate was a fitting emblem of Katherine of Aragon, daughter of those renowned Spanish monarchs, Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile. 

Katherine was born on December 16, 1485, and although she was the youngest daughter, she was engaged to the Prince of Wales at only three and was raised to be a capable queen. The Treaty of Medina del Campo not only secured Katherine’s future, it also created an alliance between Spain and England against France. When Katherine wed into the Tudor family (marrying first her betrothed, Arthur, and after his death marrying his younger brother, Henry VIII), her pomegranate was established within English heraldry, joining his Tudor rose as the visual representation of the monarchy.  

Katherine of Aragon’s pomegranate badge

The Rose:  Henry VIII, King of England

Roses were a popular emblem around the world during the medieval and early modern periods, rich in symbolism in many cultures. In Europe, faithfulness, enduring affection and beauty were among the secular qualities associated with the rose, while Christian imagery often associated the white rose with the Virgin Mary’s purity and the red rose with Christ’s blood.

Roses had long been used in English royal imagery, and when Henry Tudor claimed the English throne after his victory at the Battle of Bosworth, he combined the red rose of his house of Lancaster with the white rose of defeated house of York to create the symbol of his new dynasty, a single red and white rose that symbolized the peace and unity he hoped to achieve.  This Tudor rose was adopted by his son and heir, who became Henry VIII upon his father’s death.

The Tudor rose represented the houses of York and Lancaster united

Alliance and Marriage

Seven years after the death of Arthur Tudor, Prince of Wales and Katherine’s first husband, hopes for the continued friendship between England and Spain were bolstered when Henry VIII, newly ascended to the throne, chose Katherine as his wife and queen in a love match.  They were married and crowned together at Westminster Abbey in 1509. All appeared rosy indeed. 

Katherine and Henry’s celebrity marriage may have started as a fairytale-come-true, but the pressures of 16th-century king- and- queenship could take its toll on the best of relationships. After England had suffered decades of civil war during the Wars of the Roses, ensuring a smooth succession from father to son was a vital necessity for the new Tudor dynasty.  Henry and Katherine now desperately needed a boy to raise and prepare to take over his father’s throne.  

The coronation of Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon, featuring the Tudor rose and Katherine’s pomegranate (woodcut, 16th c.)

‘The King’s Great Matter’

Sadly, despite their best efforts – Katherine had at least six pregnancies during their marriage – only one of their children survived to adulthood. That child, Mary I, went on to occupy the English throne, but Henry was not satisfied with leaving his kingdom to a female. By the late 1520s, Henry became convinced that their lack of surviving male children was proof that God did not approve of his marriage to Katherine. (Why? That’s the subject of a separate post, dear reader, but some of the sources listed below may satisfy your curiosity in the meantime.) In Henry’s mind, he needed a new wife – one that would please God – and fast.  

As Henry discovered, ending a marriage in the early 16th century wasn’t as easy as he (and his lord chancellor, Cardinal Thomas Wolsey) had hoped. They appealed to the Pope to annul Henry’s marriage to Katherine, but Pope Clement VII was reluctant to angering Katherine’s parents, his strong supporter. Clement forestalled making the decision by sending his representative to England to hear Henry’s case and pass judgment on what became known as The King’s Great Matter.  

Cardinal Thomas Wolsey

The Pomegranate with an Iron Spine

In June 1529, Cardinal Campeggio, the papal legate, opened a court session to essentially put the marriage of Henry VII and Katherine of Aragon on trial.  On June 21, both Henry and Katherine were seated in the impressive Parliament Hall of Blackfriars Friary, and both were officially called into the court.  Henry idly announced his presence, expecting all the hubbub to be merely a formality.  

Katherine, however, was not a meek or timid woman who was content to have her fate (and subsequently that of her daughter, Mary) decided by a king’s whim.  Instead of responding demurely when the court’s clerk called her name, Katherine rose and presented herself not in front of the Legatine Court, but directly in front of Henry.  She fell to her knees and addressed him plainly, as her husband, calling him to account for the injustice being dealt to her.  

Katherine of Aragon appealing to Henry VIII before the Legatine Council

Contemporary writer George Cavendish recorded her words:   

Sir, I beseech you for all the love that hath been between us, and for the love of God, let me have justice. Take of me some pity and compassion, for I am a poor woman, and a stranger born out of your dominion. I have here no assured friends, and much less impartial counsel…

Alas! Sir, wherein have I offended you, or what occasion of displeasure have I deserved?… I have been to you a true, humble and obedient wife, ever comfortable to your will and pleasure, that never said or did any thing to the contrary thereof, being always well pleased and contented with all things wherein you had any delight or dalliance, whether it were in little or much. I never grudged in word or countenance, or showed a visage or spark of discontent. I loved all those whom ye loved, only for your sake, whether I had cause or no, and whether they were my friends or enemies. This twenty years or more I have been your true wife and by me ye have had divers children, although it hath pleased God to call them out of this world, which hath been no default in me…

When ye had me at first, I take God to my judge, I was a true maid, without touch of man. And whether it be true or no, I put it to your conscience. If there be any just cause by the law that ye can allege against me either of dishonesty or any other impediment to banish and put me from you, I am well content to depart to my great shame and dishonour. And if there be none, then here, I most lowly beseech you, let me remain in my former estate… Therefore, I most humbly require you, in the way of charity and for the love of God – who is the just judge – to spare me the extremity of this new court, until I may be advised what way and order my friends in Spain will advise me to take. And if ye will not extend to me so much impartial favour, your pleasure then be fulfilled, and to God I commit my cause!

Henry and the Counsel were, understandably, stunned by the power of her words and by her temerity in speaking so against the king’s obvious will. Katherine curtsied to Henry, then turned on her heel and glided from the courtroom, her ladies following.  Astounded, the clerk cried for her to return to her seat, but Katherine kept her head high and her eyes forward, declaring without turning  “On, on, it makes no matter, for it is no impartial court for me, therefore I will not tarry.”  

Katherine of Aragon in later years

Katherine ultimately lost her battle to retain her place as queen, but her impassioned speech that day at Blackfriars proved once again that she was no wilting flower.  The Pomegranate of Spain was a formidable woman indeed.  

Sources and Further Reading

https://www.hrp.org.uk/hampton-court-palace/history-and-stories/katherine-of-aragon/#gs.4sxvzn

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Catherine-of-Aragon

https://thetudortravelguide.com/2019/06/08/blackfriars/

https://janetwertman.com/2017/06/21/june-21-1529-catherine-of-aragons-epic-speech-at-blackfriars/

Touw, Mia. “Roses in the Middle Ages.” Economic Botany 36, no. 1 (1982): 71-83. Accessed June 26, 2021. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4254352

https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/sir-thomas-more-writing-on-the-coronation-of-henry-viii

https://nerdalicious.com.au/books/royal-library-the-rose-and-pomegranate-henry-viii-and-katherine-of-aragon/

www.tudorsociety.com/the-pregnancies-of-katherine-of-aragon-by-sarah-bryson/

https://royalarmouries.org/stories/queen-katherine-of-aragon/

https://www.hrp.org.uk/hampton-court-palace/history-and-stories/katherine-of-aragon/#gs.4sxvzn

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Catherine-of-Aragon

https://thetudortravelguide.com/2019/06/08/blackfriars/

https://janetwertman.com/2017/06/21/june-21-1529-catherine-of-aragons-epic-speech-at-blackfriars/

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This past week, we marked the 529th anniversary of the death and burial of Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of England as the wife of Edward IV from 1464-1483, and a member of the last generation of Plantagenet rulers.  

Elizabeth was born circa 1437 to Sir Richard Woodville (alternately spelled Wydville, Widvile or Wydeville) and Jacquetta of Luxembourg*, Dowager Duchess of Bedford, probably at Grafton Manor in Northamptonshire.  Her first marriage to Sir John Grey of Groby Hall produced two sons, Thomas and Richard, before John was killed fighting for the Lancastrian side at the Second Battle of St. Albans, part of the Wars of the Roses.  

Elizabeth’s glamorous second marriage to Edward IV, the victorious Yorkist claimant to the English throne, raised eyebrows amongst nobility and commoners alike, as it had been expected that Edward would marry a princess from France or elsewhere on the Continent.  Despite the resulting public shock and Edward’s frequent infidelity, the couple had 10 children, including future English queen Elizabeth of York, and the two ill-fated Princes in the Tower, Edvard V and Richard of York. She was also the grandmother of that most notorious English king, Henry VIII.

After her daughter Elizabeth of York married the Lancastrian heir Henry VII, Elizabeth Woodville retired to Bermondsey Abbey in London, where she remained until her death on June 8th, 1492.  She is buried with her second husband, Edward IV, in St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle. 

Elizabeth chose as her emblem the gillyflower, which was the predecessor of the pink (referring to its pinked edges, not its color) or clove pink and carnation.  Symbolizing virtuous love and marriage, and perhaps reminding viewers of the Virgin Mary’s chastity and motherhood, it is pictured surrounding Elizabeth in her coronation robes in the Worshipful Company of Skinners’ Fraternity Book (pictured below).

The gillyflower had medicinal value in addition to its symbolic uses, as recorded by two noted early modern herbalists. Nicholas Culpeper wrote that the gillyflower is “good to remove all difficulty of breathing, and helps the cough; they also provoke the courses and urine, and by bathing or sitting over the decoction it causes perspiration.”

John Gerard distinguished between the Clove Gillofloures and Pinks, or wilde Gillofloures.  The former, he said, when made into a conserve with sugar, will “comfort the heart” when occasionally eaten.  The latter have no medical purpose in Gerard’s estimation, but they are to be enjoyed as part of floral arrangements.

*Jacquetta should in no way be overlooked; an influential and fascinating figure in her own right, she is the subject of my independent research project, and I can’t wait to share the story of this remarkable woman with the world!  Watch this space for further updates. 

Sources and further reading: 

Sutton, Anne F. and Livia Visser-Fuchs (1997). The Device of Queen Elizabeth Woodville: A Gillyflower or Pink. The Ricardian. Vol. 11. (Issue no.136). Pp 17-24. http://www.thericardian.online/downloads/Ricardian/11-136/04.pdf

Culpeper, Nicholas. Culpeper’s English Physician And Complete Herbal. London, UK: Forgotten Books (2015).

Gerard, John and Marcus Woodward (1927). The Herball or Generall Historie of Plantes. London, UK: Gerald Howe.

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