In July 1639 Peter Mundy, a man in his early forties, stepped out of a horse-drawn coach onto the cobbled streets of Gloucester. He later recorded in his diary that it was ‘a reasonable, handsome, quiett and cleanly place’. A pair of stocks were fixed into the ground near the gaol that, he noted, ‘has about 20 holes and would hold a good company’. Walking into the centre of the city in the warm summer, he squinted up at the spire of St Nicholas Church and noticed that it rose, bent, into the sky. The spire was removed in the late eighteenth century, over concerns for the safety of the church’s congregation and passers-by.

Mundy travelled throughout Europe and Asia...

Interior of Gloucester Cathedral

Here's an interesting ghostly encounter I found in an old eighteenth century book called A Compleat History of Magick, Sorcery and Witchcraft, published in 1715. It concerns James I's favourite courtier, George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. Villiers, because of his closeness to the king and his own arrogance, gained a lot of enemies who resented the control and affection he commanded at court. Even though George was married to Catherine Manners, it was said that the affections between him and the king were more than platonic, referring to themselves in romantic and loving terms with one another. As the jealousy built, and Villiers dabbled in dangerous enterprises, it seems that his father, watching from beyond the grave, tried to warn him to change his ways. 

The legend shared by Richard Boulton in 1715 and earlier related by Lord Clarendon in the seventeenth century, tells the story of a man named Parker. He was in older age, and known to George's father, also named George Villiers. While at his lodgings at Windsor Castle in Berkshire (Parker served as an officer of the king's wardrobe), the ghost of the older Villiers appeared to him. The account states that six months after Villiers' death he began to visit Parker, but George Villiers senior died in 1606, meaning that he was visiting Parker for over twenty years, something not made clear in the original account which seems as if it is describing a shorter timeframe.

Anyway, the spirit of the older George appeared to Parker 'in the very clothes' that he used to wear, first in silence, and then spoke. Referring to his son, Villiers' spirit said 'Mr. Parker, I know you know me very well to be his Father, old Sir George Villiers of Leicestershire’. The ghost warned him to tell the duke to ‘refrain from the company and counsel’ of those around him or ‘he will come to destruction, and that suddenly’. 

George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain.

At first, Parker passed off the experience as a symptom of old age and ignored it, but the spirit came again ‘walking quick and furiously in the room’ and appearing angry with him. He berated Parker for failing to speak to the duke on his behalf, ‘for all the friendship that ever was betwixt you and me and the great respect you bear my son’. Parker then promised to talk to Villiers, but said that he was worried the duke wouldn’t believe him. The spirit told him a secret, known only to father and son, and told him not to tell it to another soul. This would show the young George that his father had sent him the message from the spirit world.

A meeting was arranged between George and Parker on Lambeth Bridge in London, while the duke was returning from a hunting trip and preparing to visit his mother, Mary Villiers, at Whitehall. The two men met privately, with the duke’s companions posted far enough away that they could not hear what was being said. The young George ‘heartily laughed’ when Parker told him of the ghost, but when he proved it was his father by sharing the secret, the mood changed and George dismissed it as the work of the devil. George was seen by eyewitnesses on the bridge gesturing and raising his voice angrily. 

Later, knowing that his son had not followed his advice, the ghost appeared a final time, thanking Parker for delivering the message but telling him that Villiers would soon die, pulling a ghostly dagger from his gown to show him the cause of his death. The spirit also predicted that Parker too would die, and told him that he should put his affairs in order immediately. Within a month, on 23 August 1628, Villiers died from stab wounds inflicted by his enemies at the Greyhound Inn in Portsmouth, and Parker died from old age. When Villiers’ mother heard the news about her son’s murder, she said she was not surprised, apparently giving the spirit’s words more credence than her son did.

Villiers' murder is described in more detail in an account written to inform the queen of what had happened:

"This day, betwixt nine and ten of the clock in the morning, the Duke of Buckingham, then coming out of a parlour, into a hall, to go to his coach, and so to the king, (who was four miles off) having about him divers lords, colonels, and captains, and many of his own servants, was, by one Felton, (once a lieutenant of this our army) slain at one blow with a dagger knife. In his staggering, he turned about, uttering only this word 'villaine!' and never spake more: but presently, plucking out the knife from himself, before he fell to the ground, he made towards the traitor two or three paces, and then fell against a table, although he were upheld by divers that were near him, that (through the villain's close carriage in the act) could not perceive him hurt at all, but guessed him to be suddenly overswayed with some apoplexy, 'till they saw the blood come gushing from his mouth and the wound so fast, that life and breath at once left his begored body."

I plan to revisit this tale when I have a bit more time and check out if I can find any evidence of this Parker and other details about the story. In the meantime, let me know if you have any information and I'll add it to the post. 

You might also like Sir Peter Vanlore: Money Lender, Merchant and Jeweller and A Visit to Lord Leycester's Hospital, Warwick. 

Think of some of the great contributions that have been made to culture and society; things that changed not only the world of our ancestors but also trickled down to our own. What about the establishment of the theatre industry, cemented into place by the Shakespeare-loving Elizabeth I in the late sixteenth century? Or Henry VIII's reform of the navy? And what about Henry VII's negotiations for the marriage of his son Arthur to the Spanish Katherine of Aragon, interlinking the Tudor dynasty with the powerful Habsburg rulers of Europe? 

These are all important events, but they were not solely the work of any individual king or queen. Elizabeth I worked in conjunction with her on-off potential suitor Robert Dudley Earl of Leicester to establish the theatrical arts in England. Dudley was a theatrical patron with his own company of actors, personal links to William Shakespeare and The Globe Theatre as well as a grand finale performance hosted at his castle of Kenilworth in 1575. Elizabeth, also a keen supporter of the arts, oversaw its development and lent essential royal sparkle and authority to attract other patrons eager for their monarch's recognition. But even they were not the true founders of the theatre in England. In fact, its beginnings can be traced to two other power couples of the age who applauded actors and watched sets being built long before Elizabeth was even born. 

Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Public Domain.

Henry VIII is well-known for his efforts to tighten the navy, but the later efforts of Philip of Spain, King of England alongside his queen, Mary Tudor, are often neglected. Philip, with his Habsburg's experience of managing realms in distant lands, knew that England's safety lay in its status as an island, scribbling notes on the edges of dispatches with actions to be taken to enhance its security. He is often viewed as an absent, unbothered ruler forced into an unhappy marriage by his father, Charles V the Holy Roman Emperor. And yet there are many examples of changes he made, alongside his wife, in the country's religious, social, military and political affairs. Surviving sources also tell us about the couple's mutually respectful relationship and the aims they had for their joint rule.

And onto Henry VII. Historians disagree on the involvement he permitted his wife, Elizabeth of York, to have in government and some claim the queen was at odds with her mother in law Margaret Beaufort. But Elizabeth was an involved and active queen, and there is ample evidence that she handled Spanish diplomacy, sweet-talking ambassadors, sending correspondence to the Spanish monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella, and was just as concerned with the Tudor succession as her husband.

These are all power couples of the Tudor age, shaping the history of the era. Without them the sixteenth century would have played out very differently. But there are many more. Couples - if they are considered at all - are often discussed in history to emphasise a romantic story over any cohesive or conscious working arrangement between them. Often too, one will be discussed in more detail while the other is given a 'supporting role'. I argue that there is a case for exploring these joint contributions to history and examining combined legacies in the context of their relationship. It was through the work of couples, and not individuals, that the Tudors displayed the medieval custom of courtly love, encouraged new trends in art and science and navigated the religious intolerance of the period. Couples also triggered voyages to new lands, waged wars and ended conflicts. It is through the joint actions of one couple that the Tudor age even existed at all, and there is evidence that the union of Elizabeth of York and Henry VII was indeed brought about through the actions of both partners. 

In my second book, published by Pen and Sword, I look at nine couples who made an impact on their own time, shaping the world in which they lived and affecting the lives of their contemporaries. Many of their decisions affect us even today. Power Couples of the Tudor Era - Influential Duos That Shaped the History of their Time discusses these partnerships, their historical significance and what their actions tell us about life during the Tudor age. We also assess aspects of their personal lives with one another and catch tantalising glimpses of their domestic lives in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. There are tales of strength and support but also stories of jealousy, ambition and the relentless grasping of power - at any cost. Find out more at Pen and Sword Books.

To discover more power couples of history, check out these articles. 

Around three million visitors are estimated to shuffle through the Tower of London's gates each year, to see the site of so many Tudor events and executions. The chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, inside the Tower's precincts, is the resting place of a number of well-known characters of the age including Anne Boleyn, Katheryn Howard and Edward Seymour, once Protector of the realm. Photos of the 'royal pavement', under which Boleyn, Howard and Lady Jane Grey are said to rest are shared on social media and on websites. They are the focus of visitors' attention, so much so that when I visited in November 2024, I had to queue a little bit to see them for myself. I watched as people walked towards the altar, turned around and slowly walked out. It was fascinating to me that no one seemed interested in or paused to look at the impressive double effigy that stands proudly in the chapel's centre, of Richard and Elizabeth Cholmeley.

Effigies of Richard and Elizabeth Cholmeley, St Peter ad Vincula. London. Jo Romero.

Richard Cholmeley, like our modern residents of the Tower, the Beefeaters, was a military man and he gained recognition under the first Tudor monarch, Henry VII. After a political career in local government in the north he was recognised for his fighting in Northumberland against the Scots in 1497 and at Flodden in 1513, where he was knighted by the Earl of Surrey. In 1506, we find Richard in London as Collector of the Great Customs for the king. 

Fresh from his victory at Flodden, and perhaps even as a reward for his service, in October Richard was appointed Lieutenant of the Tower of London. His duties were to oversee defence, carry out the king's business and manage the daily administration of the building. A Bill of Receipt from 1514 records Cholmeley's purchases of gunpowder, ironwork, stakes, tallow, 'fare carts' and gun wheels. There is also mention of guns 'which should have gone northward with the Queen's grace' signed by Richard, showing that he was was also responsible for arming soldiers for Katherine of Aragon's command at Flodden the previous year. He later authorised ammunition to be fired into the city towards residents to dispel the 1517 riot against the influence of foreigners around the king. He was also responsible for the 1519-1520 rebuilding of the Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula. 

The White Tower, Tower of London. Jo Romero.

His wife, Elizabeth, born Elizabeth Pennington, was present for all of her husband's work, and we know that women in the late medieval and Tudor periods actively assisted their husbands in maintaining the household and seeing to business, often when he was away. Elizabeth Venour was warden of the Fleet prison in London, and even when her husband carried out duties, she attended to prisoners and accompanied them to court . It's likely then that prisoners, visitors and officials would have known Elizabeth, running errands around the Tower and other local buildings. The examples of Margaret Howard Duchess of Norfolk, Margaret Paston and Elizabeth Stonor add to this evidence, carrying out business for their husbands, as do a number of other sources in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The Thames was also a big part of the couple's backdrop, which provided access to other areas of London via barge and ferry.

Richard was Elizabeth's second husband, her first Sir Walter Strickland. As a widow, Elizabeth would have therefore brought to the marriage any lands and wealth from her first marriage when she married Richard. One document from 1508 records the right of Elizabeth to retain these lands once held by Walter after her second marriage, which brought in rents of just over £66, an equivalent in modern times of a hefty £43,000 per year. Her and Richard were also granted control over the marriage of the younger Walter Strickland, her first husband's heir. Another source supporting the couple's wealth can be found in a grant by Henry VIII in 1515, giving Cholmeley an annuity of £20 (modern equivalent of around £13,000) from the customs of Newcastle on Tyne. Although it's believed that the couple did not live within the Tower precincts, they were certainly wealthy and owned lands in the north of England, the south east and Calais, as well as a number of houses within London. Their respective families may have also been known to one another. Richard is mentioned on a document in 1513 alongside John and William Pennington.

The Chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, behind the memorial to those executed.

Wealthy, influential and in a prominent position in London power, the couple lived through the early years of the Tudor dynasty, working closely alongside royal and in local government and overseeing one of the most important buildings in England at the time. 

Richard was in ill-health by 1520, when he gave up his position as Lieutenant of the Tower. He died the following year, leaving most of the couple's wealth to his wife, with gifts also to his illegitimate son Roger. He ensured that Elizabeth's daughter, Dowlce, from her first marriage, was looked after, bequeathing 'eight score poundes' for her marriage, a considerable sum. Thomas Sewell, Richard's servant, was assured of his wages, and requested that he continue to serve Elizabeth. Richard also mentions a debt due to him from Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury and it's likely that the couple therefore also knew her. Elizabeth was granted most of Richard's belongings, 'the custody of my goodes', and was also made chief executor, a sure sign that he was confident in her abilities as an efficient administrator to carry out the terms of his long and detailed will.

It doesn't appear that the couple had any children of their own. Richard's will specifies that Elizabeth was to enjoy many of the couple's lands, and on her death they should transfer to his brother Roger. His son, also named Roger, is mentioned as living at Lincoln's Inn, then a Tudor training ground for lawyers. There is no mention of a legitimate heir of the couple. Although the effigy was built in the early 1520s within the newly restored chapel, Richard is not buried here. There is in fact a legend that the chapel's ancient font was secured inside the empty tomb to protect it during the Second World War. In his will too, he requested to be buried either at Our Lady of Barking near the Tower or at 'the church of the Crossed freres beside the Towre of London'. Elizabeth, now very wealthy in her own right, married for a third time to Sir William Gascoigne. Although no longer on Tower business, as a wife of a Tudor knight she would have known of the rise of Anne Boleyn, the annulment of the king's marriage to Katherine of Aragon and Anne's own execution in May 1536. She would also have seen the decline in Henry VIII's physical and mental health, and may have listened to news of the second queen's burial, that of Katheryn Howard, in the chapel rebuilt by her husband.

Enjoyed this? You might also like Margaret Drummond, the Love of James IV of Scotland, Tudor Wedding Dresses and A Walk in the Footsteps of Tudors in Reading, Berkshire.

Notes and Sources

'Henry VIII: April 1510, 26-29', in Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume 1, 1509-1514, ed. J S Brewer( London, 1920), British History Online https://www.british-history.ac.uk/letters-papers-hen8/vol1/pp273-281 [accessed 10 November 2024].

'Henry VIII: April 1513, 21-25', in Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume 1, 1509-1514, ed. J S Brewer( London, 1920), British History Online https://www.british-history.ac.uk/letters-papers-hen8/vol1/pp815-833 [accessed 10 November 2024].

Henry VIII: April 1514, 21-30', in Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume 1, 1509-1514, ed. J S Brewer( London, 1920), British History Online https://www.british-history.ac.uk/letters-papers-hen8/vol1/pp1229-1248 [accessed 10 November 2024].

'Henry VIII: August 1515, 1-10', in Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume 2, 1515-1518, ed. J S Brewer( London, 1864), British History Online https://www.british-history.ac.uk/letters-papers-hen8/vol2/pp205-211 [accessed 10 November 2024].

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Cholmondeley

The Publications of the Suretees Society, 1835. Vol CXVI, archive.org

This is a guest post written by Rosalind Freeborn, author of the book Prince George and Master Frederick, a historical novel which uncovers the life of Frederick Blomberg, the little boy who was adopted into the Georgian royal family by King George III and Queen Charlotte. Just what was this child's secret connection to the king? Read on to find out more. 

In 1771 two little boys posed for their portraits at Richmond Lodge whilst the court artist, Richard Brompton sketched them in preparation for full size paintings, commissioned by Queen Charlotte.  Prince George, Prince of Wales, future regent and King George IV is dressed in Garter robes and holds an elaborate hat trimmed with ostrich feathers.  The other boy is Frederick Blomberg, the King’s ‘adopted son’, aged nine, who adopts a relaxed pose wearing a sumptuous rust-coloured outfit and holding the paw of his faithful greyhound. 

Both boys wear the same cream-coloured shoes with pom-poms. The background behind Prince George features Windsor Castle and Frederick Blomberg’s backdrop is Buckingham House (before it was remodelled as a palace)

 

These two pictures appear on the front cover of my novel, Prince George and Master Frederick and they are, to me, the clearest evidence that little Frederick Blomberg, so often regarded as the ‘cuckoo’ in the royal household, was a much-loved child, given equal status with the princes and princesses, of the House of Hanover, yet historians barely ever mention him.

 

I was alerted to the life of Frederick Blomberg by my grandmother. She had grown up in an impressive house, Kirby Misperton Hall, close to Malton in Yorkshire which had, a century earlier, become the home of Frederick Blomberg. She was familiar with a small sketch of a child they referred to as Blomberg and, she assumed, must have been a member of our family. Her knowledge of him was sketchy but I remember asking her when I was 22 just what was his connection? The story she gave was that King George III, Farmer George, as he’d been known, had travelled around the English countryside as a young man, fallen in love with the beautiful daughter of a farmer, a baby had resulted and, to avoid a scandal, and get the girl out of trouble, his best friend and equerry, Major William Blomberg had married her and given the child a name.

 

So far, so familiar. There are plenty of examples of ‘accidental’ royal children throughout British history. And perhaps young Frederick Blomberg would have remained anonymous and grown up in a rural environment but for the fact that he became an orphan.  His father, Major William Blomberg, died on active service in the Caribbean - British forces were stationed there to protect the American colonies from incursions by the French and Spanish. On the night he died, he appeared to his commanding officers as an apparition, exhorting them to seek out the child of his secret marriage (and gave the address) and also find a red morocco box containing documents detailing his inheritance – a valuable estate in Yorkshire.  The soldiers duly returned to England,  found Frederick living in the countryside and informed King George III.  The King and Queen adopted Frederick when he was not quite four years old, summoning him to their home at Richmond Lodge to be a playmate for the then three-year-old Prince George.

 

It’s a remarkable story of kind-hearted adoption but, to my mind, it indicates that this child had a far closer connection to the king than was ever admitted. Most tellingly, many contemporary commentators on Blomberg’s presence within the royal household mention how very similar the boys looked.  And, after researching Frederick’s life, and his closeness to the royal family, I am convinced that he was not only the King’s firstborn, secret son, but he also became a lifelong friend and confidante of his half-brother, Prince George.

 

Sifting through newspaper and magazine articles of the day, as well as guest lists of set-piece royal events, to research the story, I discovered that Frederick was very often ‘in the room where it happened’. Having been educated, first, within the royal nursery at Richmond Lodge, he moved, with the other four royal Princes: George, Frederick William and Edward to Kew Palace which was renamed the Princes House for what sounds like a pretty brutal teaching regime with frequent beatings.  Later, the King paid for Frederick to go to St John’s College, Cambridge to study divinity, he was ordained at Ely (a familiar career choice for the ‘spare’ sons of aristocratic families) and then granted some very lucrative livings in Somerset giving him a pleasant place to live, a good income and status. But, in 1784 he was also appointed chaplain to the royal family who had relocated to Windsor Castle and was also private secretary to Prince George. Frederick was very much back within his royal family and remained close to them throughout his long life.

 

There’s so much more to his story – and you’ll have to read my novel to find out what happened! But, here’s a little postscript.  Last year, King Charles III purchased a drawing of Frederick Blomberg, aged seven, for the Royal Collection Trust. The portrait had been made as part of a set of all the royal children, commissioned by Queen Charlotte from the court artist, Hugh Douglas Hamilton. It’s on their website now.  This was the very portrait my grandmother used to see on the wall of her home in Yorkshire and gave us the family story of some connection with King George III. It delights me to know that Frederick is back with his royal family again, safely tucked up in a box with the other portraits of his siblings in the Print Room at Windsor Castle. 

 

Prince George and Master Frederick by Rosalind Freeborn, published by Alliance Publishing Press. Available on Amazon in print, Kindle and Audible and from bookshops. ISBN 9781838259853.

 

Author website: www.rosalind-freeborn.com

You might also like: The Daughters of George III and The Women of Bedlam.

The woman took another sip from her chilled pint of lager as I sat, transfixed, my burger and fries getting cold in front of me. She was giving me directions to Bloody Meadow, the legendary last stand of the Lancastrian soldiers in 1471, at the Battle of Tewkesbury. She told me how the battlefield is now surrounded by houses, not like when she was little, when she was four years old and would pick up arrows after re-enactments, and it was all fields behind other fields. She's lived in Tewkesbury all her life, she's telling me, as I steal a still-hot chip from my plate and dab it in ketchup. Oh, and there are tunnels, too. From the abbey to the old pub we're sitting in.

Turns out, the battlefield site isn't very far from the town centre. After a 15-minute stroll, we found a detour into a field that promised a battlefield walk, and a few more minutes' down the road, Bloody Meadow itself. 

It was here that witnessed the most intense fighting of the Battle of Tewkesbury. With Henry VI now locked up in the Tower of London and the Earl of Warwick dead after the Battle of Barnet, Edward faced the remnants of Lancastrian resistance to his rule, under Henry VI's queen, Margaret of Anjou. 

Margaret entered Tewkesbury at around 4pm on Friday 3 May, 1471. Her troops were commanded by the Duke of Somerset, and central to its hopes was the young prince - her son, Edward of Lancaster. Early on the Saturday morning, the 4th May, the armies clashed with the supporters of the House of York and the ruling king. Here, the three York brothers fought once again, having recently been fractured in their loyalties: George, Duke of Clarence; Richard, Duke of Gloucester (the future Richard III) and Edward IV himself. Richard, who was then 19 years old, would be especially noted after the battle for his heroism and skill on the field, ordering a rain of arrows on the Lancastrians and drawing Somerset's men out from their sheltered position. 

The Yorkists gained the upper hand and Lancastrian forces tried to disband and run away, however many ended up drowned in the nearby river 'at a mill in the meadow fast by the town', likely to have been a mill owned by the abbey. It's been estimated that around three thousand Lancastrian soldiers died in these fields near Tewkesbury on that day. Among them were Thomas Courtenay Earl of Devonshire, Lord John Beaufort, Lord Wenlock, Sir William Vaux and Sir Thomas Seymour.

Walking back from Bloody Meadow you get a beautiful view of nearby Tewkesbury Abbey, and it is here that some of the soldiers fled to seek sanctuary and the protection of the church. Among them was the Duke of Somerset, and, it was said, fourteen other men. Still in armour, and what would have been a short ride on horseback (if not an angry trudge through a field), Edward chased them to the abbey door but was stopped by the priest, reminded of the rules of sanctuary and urged to consider pardoning the men inside. Edward, for now, left the men to heal their wounds. 

Towards the end of fighting, Edward of Lancaster was captured and brought to Edward. The king asked the teenager 'how he dared to invade his dominions'. The prince's reply, that he had come to recover his father's liberty and the crown that Edward had in fact usurped, did not win him any patience and Edward slapped him across his cheek, still wearing his gauntlet. The men nearby set upon the young boy, stabbing him with their daggers. Some historians believe that the prince was in fact killed in battle or tracked down trying to flee the scene. However he died, he was later taken to be buried in Tewkesbury Abbey, to spend eternity underneath a ceiling painted with Edward's own emblem of sparkling, radiant suns. 

After visiting the abbey church to give thanks for his victory, Edward demanded Somerset and the other men leave their sanctuary and face justice in a trial. Some believe Edward had the men forcibly removed, leading to the need for the abbey church to be reconsecrated. Unsurprisingly, as enemies, they were sentenced to death and beheaded in the marketplace of Tewkesbury on 6 May. Margaret of Anjou was also discovered, in a 'poor religious house' in the town and taken to London with strict instructions to be kept separately from her husband. She was later ransomed to France. Edward marched into London to occupy his throne and ruled for another decade before dying in 1483 of a short illness.

Even today legends surround Bloody Meadow. Among the hauntings and sightings is one apparition that appears at the Black Bear pub, thought to be a Lancastrian soldier seeking relief from the battle. There is an eerieness to the field - something my friend once described on a different occasion as 'soul soup', although it's difficult to know whether I'm just reading into the significance of the historical events that surround it. Either way, it's worth a visit as such an important landmark in the Wars of the Roses, a memorial to those who were killed and a trace of all three York brothers who, in a rare moment of solidarity, worked together in defending the crown on that early May morning in 1471.

You might also like The Women of Warwick Castle, The Queens of the Wars of the Roses and Historic Pubs: The Old Black Bear of Tewkesbury.

Source: 

James Bennett, History of Tewkesbury. Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown and Green. London 1830