The History Behind The Baby Of Macon: Part I: Cosimo De Medici

A Still From "The Baby Of Macon" 

 In 1993, Director Peter Greenaway, in response to an ad showing a newborn baby being taken down for being "too disturbing" decided to make the most disturbing movie he could. Like the ad, he used familiar visuals and resources to make his point: plot elements borrowed from classical literature, Biblical stories, and classical history. What came together was a surreal movie that served as a warning against child exploitation: The Baby Of Macon. Yet, Greenaway performed his role too well: The Baby Of Macon was shown at the Cannes Film Festival in 1993 before it was suppressed for (at least) four years: elements of the plot caused outcry from The Catholic Church, and it ended up banned nearly world-wide. It was re-released in 2002 thanks to director Andrew R. McElhinney. Today, it stands as a rare cult classic, known widely from Youtube clickbait calling it "The Most Disturbing Movie In History." 

!!!SPOILERS FOR THE BABY OF MACON!!!

The Baby of Macon is a play about a play about a Prince watching a play. The plot centers around the city of Macon suffering a baby bust, and the only child having been born in years being exploited by his immediate family. The Child, as he is called in the movie, has the gifts of speech and prophecy, and is an allegory for not only Christ, but the exploitation of children. Many people have heard of this movie thanks to its gratuitous sexual assault scene, in which the Sister (played by Julia Ormond) is violated 208 times per the request of Prince Cosimo Medici III, a real-life historical figure portrayed in the film as a bumbling, naive teenager. 

Throughout the film, Cosimo is shown not understanding the lines between the play and reality, even going so far as to buy the relics from the actor playing a priest or even dedicating a holy cow to the child. The movie muddies the water even further with the perspective of the viewer being the same as Cosimo’s, and we experience this very subtle and disturbing break from reality alongside him. Many scenes in the movie are not real, they are what Cosimo thinks is happening, and I’ve noticed many people miss this part of the plot: there are no children backstage being nursed by their mothers: there isn’t even a real child in the whole play. You can even pinpoint when reality becomes blurred with the events of the play: in the beginning, one of the midwives brings a paper mache doll onto the stage, and it miraculously transforms into a child. 

!!!End of Spoilers!!!

Yet, who was the real Cosimo? And is this portrayal accurate to history?

Prince Cosimo was born to Fernando II and his wife Vittoria on August 14th, 1642. He was only one of two children who survived infancy: he was predeceased by two siblings, both having died within a year of their birth. Cosimo’s childhood was very pious and very sheltered, although Cosimo was a very active youth: he loved shooting and hunting, and was very good at both. 

It is widely accepted by historians that Cosimo was gay, and that he had a lover named Petrillo, who was a court singer. When Petrillo fled Florence due to the hue and cry made from Cosimo’s public displays of affection towards him, Cosimo then moved onto another lover, named Cecchino, who was a castrato. Yet, behind closed doors, his father tried to remedy his son’s urges, which caused Cosimo to cease smiling publicly and to become incredibly religious. 

Cosimo was married to Marguerite Louise D’Orleans by proxy on 17th of April 1661. She would arrive in person two months later, and was greeted with much celebration. Records show that Ferdinand presented his daughter-in-law with a pearl “the size of a pigeon’s egg” as a wedding gift. Yet, all would not be well for the couple: the marriage was incredibly unhappy, and the couple almost immediately began quarrelling. Nevertheless, the couple had three children: Ferdinando, Anna Maria Luisa, and Gian Gascone. 

As Marguerite became more and more unhinged, it was agreed that she would be sent back to France. This proved to be a mistake: Marguerite, feeling scorned as ever, took whatever opportunity she found to humiliate her in-laws. She tried to accuse the Medici of trying to poison her, and when she caught smallpox after the birth of her daughter, she blamed that on them as well. In order to distract himself and the world from his marital turmoil, Cosimo went on a journey across Europe, visiting Amsterdam, Hamburg, Florence, Spain, Portugal, Ireland, England, and back through Holland. This trip did Cosimo “much good” and allowed him to meet men confidants on his travels. His travelling companion, Lorenzo Conte Magalotti recorded much of their adventures together. 

In 1670, Ferdinand II died of dropsy, leaving the Grand Duchy of Tuscany in the hands of Cosimo. Yet, his own mother vied for power, and won the right to administrative roles. Cosimo proved to be a very poor ruler, and lost interest altogether in it soon after gaining his titles. Cosimo went on to send Marguerite to a convent, where she stayed until her death. She settled into the convent of Montmartre in France. 

With Marguerite out of the picture, Cosimo proceeded to persecute the Jewish population living within his fiefdom. He made it illegal for Christians and Jewish citizens to not only work but sleep together, and if the law was broken, the fine was 50 crowns. If 50 crowns (and incredible amount for the time period) could not be procured, torture on the rack was then used. 

Even as a nun, Marguerite could not keep out of trouble, and after she accidentally lit an abbess’ dog on fire, the convent wrote some stern letters to Cosimo. Cosimo tried to reprimand his ex-wife via letter, which did not work in the slightest. Louis XIV later became involved, having to tell off Cosimo personally, which apparently caused Cosimo to fall ill in shame. Soon after, Cosimo joined the Turkish Wars, which further flamed his antisemitism. Cosimo soon became known to the public as a despot, and Tuscany began falling further into poverty, which became even worse with Cosimo’s children’s debts and even worse political intrigue on his part, which included betting on the wrong heir after the death of Charles II. 

On the 22nd of September 1723, Cosimo suffered what seems to be an epileptic seizure that lasted 2 hours. He never fully recovered, and died a month later. Cosimo left Tuscany a shell of its former self: weary of persecution and bankrupt, it was worth nothing by the time he was done with it. With his three children, his lineage died, as none of them produced children. 

It seems that the portrayal of Cosimo in the Baby of Macon would be historically accurate: he does come off as a sheltered idiot. From his persecutions to his mishandling of…well…everything, Cosimo seems like the type of person who would’ve benefitted from doing the opposite of whatever he wanted to. Yet, whether his mental health was bad enough for him to hallucinate a whole child, who knows?

Resources:

Treccani: Cosimo De Medici

Cosimo's Wiki Page

A cartografia Urbana da Província d’Entre Douro e Minho, em meados do século XVIII: a urbivisão de

Braga de André Soares

The E-Journal of Portuguese History 

This post is the first of two parts, tune in soon for the second part, where I speak about The Sister and her parallels to the tragic Roman figure of Junilla. 

Who Killed Sir Harry Oakes? From The Perspective Of A Relative

Harry and his wife, Eunice

 Sometime before midnight in 1943, Sir Harry Oakes, a remarkable man who had found wealth in the Klondike and had climbed the ranks of British Society, was beheaded at his home in the Bahamas. His body was doused with insecticide, and lit on fire, yet neither the body nor the crime scene had burned as the murderer had hoped. Although Oakes' close friend, the former King Edward VIII, had tried to stop the news story from breaking, The Bahamas Tribune broke the story, and it swept across the country like wildfire. For years, the mystery of who had killed Harry Oakes lay like a thick blanket across Central Maine: many believed it was his daughter who had committed the act, or a disgruntled wife. Yet, his family has a different story as to what led to Harry Oakes' demise.

This will come as a surprise to many of you, but Sir Harry Oakes was my great-great uncle. He offered my great grandfather money in hopes of providing for his children, and thought very well of the side of the family I came from. In 2021, I began writing a biography called "En Amite, Henri Oakes," which chronicled the 90 years of life my great-uncle, Henry Oakes, spent on this earth. Over the course of 28 pages, the communications and life of Sir Henry Oakes were mentioned multiple times, including his vicious murder. Because of our relation to Sir Harry, and our help with the numerous books that have been written about his death, I was able to gain access to numerous resources and bibliographies concerning the crime itself. As I poured through the pages of each volume, one fact became clear that had not been spoken about when it came to my other research: Sir Henry Oakes had been donating his fortune to the Allied Forces, while serving the former King Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson. 

For a little context about those two individuals, Edward VIII was the most recent king in English history of abdicate. His abdication came for two reasons: the first, most well known reason was his love for the American divorcee he would later call his wife, yet the second, less known reason was simple: Edward VIII was a Nazi. Edward (or Bertie, as he was called by his family) was photographed at Nazi rallies in Germany at the time, alongside his infamous wife. This posed a conflict for the British people, who were being actively targeted by the regime, and he was forced out of the role in favor of his brother, King George VI, the father of Queen Elizabeth II. In later years, more evidence has come to light that Bertie was actively betraying England during his reign, and the conflict of interest was much more deeply seated than previously thought. Nevertheless, he was exiled to the Bahamas with the title of Governor, alongside my great-great uncle. 

This leads to the realization I spoke of earlier: I believe that Edward VIII killed Sir Harry Oakes.

The evidence is very clear that whoever committed the murder was inexperienced in manslaughter, however it is very interesting that insecticide was used to douse the crime scene: anyone who has studied the atrocities of the Nazis knows of their propensity to use insecticide when executing people.  In a massive estate like that owned by Harry Oakes, any other sort of incendiary material could have been found and used to better destroy the crime scene, and yet they chose bug repellant. 

Secondly, Bertie attempted to order a gag on all Bahamian press directly after the death was discovered. This is incredibly damning, and it seems that Bertie had bragged not only that local police would be too inexperienced to investigate, but that he could not bring Scotland Yard out to investigate. In fact, the two officers who handled the case (and who probably are responsible for the case being unsolved to this day) were hired by Bertie personally. It was these two officers who arrested and unlawfully detained Count Alfred De Marigny, Harry's son-in-law, and fabricated the story that the murder had been in response to Harry Oakes refusing to acknowledge his daughter's elopement. 

All of this is too coincidental, especially in hindsight. 

Bertie had the motives to do it: Harry was a liability to his ties to the Third Reich, and was actively undoing whatever progress Germany was achieving. Bertie had not been used to consequences: the first of his being his abdication only a few years earlier. I wouldn't be surprised if he believed that he was going to get away with it, solely because of who he is and what he could do. However, being a first time killer, he failed to ignite the house properly, and left a very in-tact crime scene, which has baffled detectives for the last near-century. Yet, I am not the only one who believes Bertie had a hand in his murder, many other historians have raised the alarms as well. 

My Great Great Uncle was a wonderful person: he was always helping people, and willing to better the world around him. He used his wealth for incredible good, and it is unfortunate that he met such a brutal end. Hopefully, as more information comes to light, we can finally have justice for him. 

The End of MurreyandBlue/Death On The Internet

 I've been a subscriber to the Ricardian blog "Murrey and Blue" for going on 9 years now: I joined when I was just getting into Medieval History, and I used to find it very interesting. Unfortunately, in the last few years, I began finding the blog kind of repetitive, and I wasn't learning as much from it as I had years ago. It felt like the posts had shifted from educational to ranting, and I had genuinely loved and appreciated the educational posts. I had chalked up the change to what was going on in the Richard III Society at the time: Matt Lewis was canned from his position after sharing some taboo beliefs concerning Richard's marriage to his cousin, Anne Neville. I assumed that the fires from that were still hot, and that with the rejection of someone like Lewis from the Society, that maybe new discoveries were not really welcome (it had always been a problem within the society, and originally the complaint had been toward Dr. John Ashdown-Hill's stubbornness towards members). 

It wasn't until a week ago that I found out the truth: the original creator had died, and his co-admin was left to keep the blog going, which she did for a number of years. However, she is unable to renew the domain, and so the blog is going to cease making new posts. Viscountess did state that she hoped the blog would stay UP, however she was unsure if that would be the case. Personally, I hope it stays up, as it holds a treasure trove of information about The Wars Of The Roses. 

Since coming onto the history scene years ago, a number of my historian friends have died. The internet is forever, yet sometimes that means that things like Facebook profiles, playlists, and even blogs can become abandoned memorials to people who no longer post. On top of that, with death now becoming something much more tangible in digital spaces, websites have enacted safeguards for in case admins die or posters cease. Of course, Murrey and Blue, being a Wordpress blog, did not have that luxury: Wordpress has yet to cross the bridge of what can be done when a blogger dies (currently they have their hands busy with a lawsuit). Blogger is even worse: I can barely log into my own blogs there, and I am still very much alive. At least with Tumblr, I can leave my login credentials with a loved one just in case. 

Murrey and Blue has been a mainstay of my life, and I hope it continues to exist in some form. It is unfortunate that the hosting domain has yet to put in safeguards for death, and it shouldn't be the reason that such a helpful resource for those interested in the time period should cease because of it. I have to wonder if maybe the posts could be put on another blog or maybe the contents downloaded and reuploaded. I'm not sure, however: I used Blogger originally, and then Wordpress for a time, yet I merely copied and pasted my posts on their respective Tumblrs, since I didn't have many posts to worry about. Nevertheless, I wish the best to ViscountessW, and her endeavors here on out. 

Update: as of January 25th, it seems ViscountessW and other Ricardians have managed to keep MurreyandBlue alive!

The Terror: The Show, The History, And The New Findings

 

On March 25th, 2018, AMC premiered the show "The Terror" to captivated audiences. The first season of the show follows the crew of The HMS Erebus and HMS Terror: two exploring ships hoping to find the Northwest Passage. Following the plot of Dan Simmon's 2007 novel of the same name, the crew falls victim to supernatural happenings, as well as the naturally occurring ones happening both inside and outside of the ship. Yet, who were the men of the Franklin Expedition, and what do we know now? 

The Franklin Expedition was a Victorian exploration party, named for one of the captains, Sir John Franklin. Setting out from England, they stopped by Greenland and then headed north past Baffin Island, looking for King William Land. Other than Franklin, the two other captains were Francis Crozier of Terror and James Fitzjames of Erebus. These two men were put in charge upon the death of Sir John in 1848. However, such was for naught, as the expedition party disappeared without a trace, along with their ships. 

The three Captains of the Erebus and Terror

For years, all that remained of the Franklin Expedition were papers, tin cans, three mummified corpses (none of which were the captains), and the testimony of the Inuit. Terrifying stories were recounted of a party finding a massive corpse with teeth like a rat's (although the testimony has been questioned by historians and buffs alike). 

Interest in the ill fated ship failed to waiver: search parties were turning up, looking for survivors. Stories of a lone survivor, named Aglooka, were passed down. Yet, it wouldn't be for another hundred some-odd years that further evidence would be found, and the pieces would come into place. 

In 1981, the FEFAP project was launched by Owen Beattie, who was at the time a professor of anthropology at the University of Alberta. They planned to walk the western coast of King William Land in hopes of finding evidence of what happened. Artifacts were located, as well as desiccated human remains that not only showed signs of scurvy, but of cannibalism. Cut marks were found on bone fragments on the site, as well as suggestive signs of decapitation. 

Testing discovered something else that was shocking: many of the bones found had very high levels of lead in them, suggesting that a number of the men had suffered from acute lead poisoning. In 1982, Beattie returned with a number of students to walk the path again, and this time found the "Boat Place," along with the remains of 6-14 men, and a boot sole with cleats. Due to the concerns of lead poisoning, the remains of the three men buried at Beechy island were exhumed and tested, all of which showed high levels of lead. Beattie believed this was due to the canned goods brought on the ship, which were improperly soldered shut, and allowed for lead to leech into the food, as well as spoilage. 

In 1992, ten years after the second expedition, Barry Ranford, a Franklin scholar, discovered human remains near the boat place. 400 bones and fragments, clay pipes, buttons, etc. were found. Like the remains found before, these bones also showed signs of cannibalism, except these had suffered a phenomena called "pot polishing," where the ends of the bones rub against the pot while cooking. There were also signs of end-stage cannibalism: that the survivors were breaking open bones in hopes of finding the marrow within. 

For the next twenty years, minor artifacts would be found, but no leads. It wouldn't be until 2014 that Erebus would be found, at the bottom of Queen Maud Gulf. Sonar showed the condition of the ship, which was quite good, yet quickly deteriorated. The UK claimed the first 65 artifacts brought up from the ship, while the ship itself is joint owned by the country of Canada and the Inuit. 

The wreck of HMS Erebus

Two years after the wreck of Erebus was found, Terror would be found as well. Found in the aptly named "Terror Bay" in 2016, it was declared to be in "pristine" condition, and videos were taken of it from a ROV. 

The wreck of HMS Terror in her final resting place, Terror Bay

In 2021, the body of John Gregory was identified, after nearly 200 years of mystery. Although found in 1859, the body wasn't identifiable due to the wear and tear it had been through. With the help of DNA from his great-great-great grandson and namesake, Johnathon Gregory, the bones were identified. 

Yet, the most recent discovery was a mere few days ago: James Fitzjames, the third in command and captain of Erebus, was identified. First found in 1861, the remains were found near a boat, where the Inuit had described cannibalism having taken place. All that was left of him was a mandible, which was DNA tested in 2024 and confirmed to be him. It was also confirmed that Fitzjames corpse had been consumed by survivors. 

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR AMC'S THE TERROR SEASON 1

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In the show, the crew's demise is caused by a combination of the elements, lead poisoning, and attacks from the demon polar bear Tuunbaq, a creature based off of the Inuit mythological creature Tupilaq, which is a creature of divine vengeance. The Tuunbaq hunts the crew during their time on the ice, tundra, and even in the wasteland, eating their souls and corpses. It is Doctor Goodsir, the favorite of many show watchers, who takes it down: by poisoning himself while in the cannibal encampment, which poisons the cannibals, who are eaten by the Tuunbaq, who dies. It is Crozier in this version who is the lone survivor, and who is named as Aglooka. 

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End of Terror Spoilers

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In real life, the crews only dealt with the harsh environment that they were traversing, alongside starvation. There is contention about the lead poisoning hypothesis, and although I believe it, other historians do not. We do not know who the last man standing was, and we do not know the timeline that accompanies the deaths. All we know was that there was starvation, and mass demise.

I loved Terror Season 1: the sets and designs were historically accurate, and the show handled portraying the Inuit better than the book did. Jared Harris is becoming one of my favorite actors, because of how many period dramas he's in, and how amazing an actor he is. He nailed the character of Crozier, portraying him sympathetically. Ciaran Hinds was spectacular as always (he never has a bad role), and it was wonderful to see Tobias Menzies outside of Game of Thrones (I haven't watched much Outlander, but it's on the list). I would definitely recommend this show, definitely for Halloween, and definitely for the period buff itching to watch something scary and mid-Victorian.

The New Evidence Concerning The Princes In The Tower: What Does This Mean?

In 1483, the nephews of the future King Richard III, the future King Edward V and Richard, Duke of York, went missing. Even during the time period, the concept that two royal princes could just disappear into thin air was absurd, and because a previous heir apparent had been found dead under mysterious circumstances, the worst was assumed by the public. Richard III would only reign two years, dying at The Battle Of Bosworth in 1485, causing the House of Plantagenet to lose power for the first time since the 12th century. With the years following the disappearance, fingers pointed to Richard for having caused and concealed the deaths, yet in the 20th century, an organization dedicated to rehabilitating Richard's name (aptly named The Richard III Society) began proposing that someone other than Richard- if anyone had at all- had destroyed his nephews. After the success of the Finding Richard Project in 2012, the RIII Society was taken more seriously, and they vowed to find his missing nephews next. 

However, a few days ago, what some are hailing as "damnable" evidence was found: a relative of the infamous Sir James Tyrell, who was accused by King Henry VII and Queen Elisabeth of York as having done the deed for Richard III, was found to be in possession of a "Cheyne which was Yonge kynge Edward the Vth.” As those who believe Richard III was usurping tyrant celebrate this find, we should look into what this means as an article of history. 

First of all, lets look at what the document is: the new information comes from the 1516 will of Lady Margaret Capell, who was half sister to Sir James Tyrell's wife. In her will, Margaret wrote: 

“I bequeath to my sonne Sir Giles his fadres Cheyne which was Yonge kynge Edward the Vth.”

Now, at face value, this looks pretty bad: why does James Tyrell's family have ANYTHING of Edward V's? Yet, it was very common for kings and princes to gift trinkets and jewelry to people who had done them some service. Tyrell had been knighted in 1471 by King Edward IV, later entering the service of Richard, then Duke of Gloucester. Once Richard assumed the throne, Tyrell became High Sheriff of Cornwall. Yet, things would come crashing down with the untimely death of the king, and the coronation of Henry VII, who needed to prove that his brothers-in-law were dead. This meant that he needed some proof that there were no other claimants, and so he imprisoned Tyrell with the hopes that he would confess, which he did. 

So, James would have been, under most circumstances, near the Royal Household. This gives us three options as to how Tyrell became the owner of Edward's chain:

Theory 1: Tyrell did something worthy of honor and Edward gave him a token of gratitude. 

It wasn't uncommon for kings to give away pieces of jewelry and trinkets to people who do some good for them. Although the late Middle Ages were steeped in record keeping, it seems that there isn't much from the Royal Household during this time period. It could be that, like the will, any documentation of the sentiment was lost, or at least yet to be found.

Theory 2: The chain was for Tyrell's role as High Sheriff of Cornwall.

One of the things I think were overlooked when this document came to light is that Tyrell and Edward held the same office: Edward was granted the title as an infant, while Tyrell was granted it in 1483. This means that, under the circumstances at play, Tyrell could have been given Richard's chain, which very well might have also belonged to Edward. When the will was written, Richard III was not someone you wanted to have ties to: people thought very poorly of him for how he came to the throne and how he died. This could have led Margaret to gloss over Richard's ownership of the chain and emphasize more on Edward's ownership. This would also allow them family to distance themselves from their involvement with Richard III, and align themselves with the newly crowned King Henry VIII. 

Theory 3: James Tyrell kept the chain as a trophy for the crime he committed. 

This theory relies heavily on the concept of Ocam's Razor: that the simplest reason for something is what happened, or that Richard did away with his nephews with the help of James Tyrell, and he kept the chain as a memento for his crimes. This doesn't really explain everything, but it is a possibility, I guess. 

What do you think happened? Is Richard innocent? Is the chain just a happenstance? 

An Interesting Find In The Sims Medieval

 I will never get tired of The Sims Medieval.

I was checking my downloads of converted Sims Medieval > Sims 4 stuff and realised that NPCs in the game wear pattens: a real medieval footwear that is often seen in paintings. They were often made of wood and allowed for noblemen and the middle class to walk through the streets without soiling their shoes and clothes. Here is the in-game model compared to a real life pair from 14th century Poland!

Margaret Of Anjou: The Ill-Fated Lancastrian Queen

 If you've ever read or watched Phillipa Gregory, you have probably heard of Margaret of Anjou. Gregory has a habit of referring to her as "The Bad Queen," which I don't think I agree with: Margaret was a lioness who had been dealt a bad hand, yet tried her best to secure her kingdom. She had a husband who wasn't well, a young son, and a country that fought itself for her crown. There is nothing bad about her; in fact, she is admirable.

Margaret of Anjou was born on the 23rd of March, 1430 in Lorraine, France. She was the daughter of Bon Roi René and his wife, Isabella, Duchess of Lorraine. She was baptised at Toul, and raised by her father's wetnurse, alongside many siblings. What records there are paints a happy picture: a little girl in a loving home, right in the middle of French politics. A good king and close knit family. Margaret would, sadly , leave this behind to marry into the English crown. 

King Henry VI was chosen to be her future husband: the son of the titular warrior King Henry V of Shakespeare legend, and his wife Catherine of Valois. Henry V had died very young, leaving a nine month old baby to inherit his legacy. Although Henry VI's grandfather had suffered severe mental health issues in his life, the young prince showed no signs yet that he, too, would have similar struggles. At the time, the match seemed perfect: the French had just won The Hundred Years' War, and the English wished for a swift peace to bury their embarrassing loss of what Henry V had won. The young princess was to sail across the narrow sea to meet her King, bear him children, and forget about all this mess. Margaret was an agent of peace, and officials looked to her to soothe the wounds of both countries. 

On the 9th of April, 1445, Margaret arrived at her new kingdom. So many large crowds turned out that rooves and other vantage points had to be inspected to prevent building damage. The progress lasted two days, and Margaret stayed at the infamous Tower of London in-between. 

On the 23rd of April, Margaret and Henry married, and seven days later, she was crowned Queen of England. 

The marriage of Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou

However, this happiness that had spread across the kingdom would not last: Rene suggested a lifetime peace in exchange for his daughter, along with the long-English owned county of Maine. The English complied, yet the choice left a bitter taste in peoples' mouths. Yet, Margaret and Henry were inseparable, and the country hoped that their marriage would soon begin producing children. 

Margaret soon began fulfilling her duty as Queen: she founded Queen's College in Cambridge, and she worked to mediate issues within her household. Margaret was largely apolitical at this time, which was expected of Queens. Yet, children had not been forthcoming, possibly a side effect of Henry's growing piety. It wouldn't be until 1453 that Margaret would become pregnant, and unfortunately disaster would soon follow. 

A contemporary portrait of Margaret of Anjou

At the end of summer 1453, after a streak of bad luck, Henry VI suffered some sort of mental health crisis. Historians often refer to what happened as "Sleeping Sickness," yet modern diagnoses range from depression, to catatonic schizophrenia, to some sort of neurodivergent paralysis. Nevertheless, Henry VI took to his bed, and did not re-emerge for months. During his absence, Richard, Duke of York became protector, and calls were made to depose the sickly King, and place the House of York on the throne. 

Thankfully, Henry VI came to sometime around Christmas day, 1454. Yet, this did not quell the treason at his court. Margaret, having just given birth to her son, Edward, and having been excluded from talks about her government, was vulnerable to losing everything. A year later in 1455, The Wars of The Roses broke out, and it became incredibly clear that Henry was not fit to rule. 

Margaret was forced to rise to the occasion: she took over as ruler, and arranged for armies to meet York in battle. This was exceptional for a female ruler of this time, yet she would be the first of many women who would have to act similarly under similar circumstance. Margaret would even go so far as to raise support in Scotland, where her French heritage would be respected and honored, thanks to a hundred year old treaty between Scotland and France. For the Lancastrian faction, things were looking up: The Battle of Wakefield brought a Lancastrian victory, as well as the heads of Richard, Duke of York and his son, Edmund of Rutland. Yet, behind the victory was a 17 year old boy who would prove to be the ultimate thorn in Margaret's side: Edward, Earl of March. 

Edward was handsome, young, and already a warrior. Standing something around 6'2, he had become heir to York on the death of his father. The Lancastrian armies behavior after the battle- placing the heads of father and son on Micklegate, the father with a paper crown on his head, had sent Edward into a rage, and he thirsted for revenge. 

His revenge came at The Second Battle of St. Albans, in 1461. Henry VI was captured. The Lancastrians scrambled to figure out how to beat this son of York, but to no avail. On the bloody snows of Towton in 1461, Edward became king of England, forcing Margaret to flee with her young son to the French courts. 

England seemed to breathe a sigh of relief under Edward: it was clear he wouldn't go mad, nor would he seemingly make terrible political mistakes like his forbear. Yet that sigh did not last into 1465, the year Edward announced his marriage to the common widow Elizabeth Woodville. Elizabeth did have some royal blood, however she was the wife of the late Lancastrian knight, Sir John Grey. This caused Richard Warwick, the "Kingmaker" and cousin to Edward IV, to swiftly change sides, as he had been negotiating a marriage with Bona of Savoy to destablise Margaret's place at court. Richard fled to Margaret and began plotting to marry one of his two daughters off to her son.

As the Woodville marriage grew more and more unpopular, Edward's brother George, Duke of Clarence ended up defecting and siding with Lancaster, which resulted in him being swiftly married to Isabel Neville, the eldest of Warwick's daughters. The marriage took place in Calais in 1469, and in secret, as Edward did not approve the match. George later fought at The Battle of Edgecote on the Lancastrian side, a loss for the Yorkists that resulted in the imprisonment of Edward. Yet, later that year, George would flee England with his heavily pregnant wife, resulting in the loss of the couple's first child. Yet, things would not stay bleak for them in France.

Shortly after their arrival, it was agreed that Richard Warwick's youngest daughter, Anne, was to marry Edward of Westminster, who had grown into a young man. Not much is recorded of Edward, unfortunately: his temperament, his wishes, and how he felt of the match have been lost to time. Yet, the marriage took place, and plots were laid to reinstate Henry VI; a move not yet seen in history. 

Unfortunately for Edward IV, it happened: King Henry VI was placed back on the throne, and he found himself in exile with his youngest brother, separated from his heavily pregnant wife, and his future uncertain. But, this would not last: Edward would only remain in exile for six months or so, and would face his enemies at The Battle of Barnet.  This battle would see the demise of the treasonous Kingmaker, as well as a reunion with George. Yet, Margaret was not present, and her absence set off a wild goose chase that ended in the midlands. On May 4th, 1471, the initial round of The Wars Of The Roses came to a close at Tewksbury: Edward of Westminster was slain in battle, aged just seventeen, and Margaret was arrested. Her daughter-in-law was quickly betrothed to the up and coming Richard, Duke of Gloucester, and shortly after the battle, Henry VI died under mysterious circumstances.  Margaret's grief must've been intense: her husband, son, and kingdom snuffed out like a rushlight. Edward exiled her back to France, never to see the shores of England again. 

Not much is known about Margaret's time in France, saved for she was disgraced. She lived in poverty for seven years before dying in 1482. She was buried with her parents, yet during the French Revolution, her remains were removed and scattered. Who had once been a conduit of peace, died disgraced and impoverished, having outlived her son and husband. Yet, with irony, she would be followed to the grave by her adversary, Edward IV, a year later, and the peace he had brought with her ruin would be upturned. Three years after she was laid to rest, Margaret's nephew, Henry Tudor, would put an end to The Plantagenet reign by the death of Richard III at Bosworth: a karmic justice too late for her to witness. 

Margaret of Anjou lived fifty-two years as a conduit of peace for The Hundred Years' War, as the warmaker for The Wars Of The Roses, as well as a disgraced Queen of England. She was a doting mother, a loyal wife, and a just queen during the tenure she had. She is not "bad" or anything of the sort: she was a woman, trying to keep a grasp on what was hers, what was owed to her son, while trying to play her role as well as she could. Although we do not remember her as similar to the likes of Isabella of Castile, they are very similar, and Margaret's reign predated Isabella's by twenty years. One day, hopefully, we will be able to hear more of her story.

Question From Facebook: What Historical Evidence is There of Jesus' Penis?

So, interestingly enough, the only reference to Jesus' [member] is in the book of Luke, which mentions that Jesus was circumcised. However, in Saints' lore, there is a very interesting story pertaining to either St. Catherine of Alexandria or St. Catherine of Sienna. St. Catherine underwent a mystical marriage to Christ, in which he gave her his foreskin as a wedding ring. This wedding ring is a Catholic relic that has been portrayed in art since 1461. 

Firebrand Part II: Was Jude Law's Henry VIII Accurate?

 TW: DV, mention of executions

Jude Law as Henry VIII

I recently got in trouble on a Facebook group for my thoughts on this, which was an interesting affair to say the least. But a lot of Tudor Enthusiasts are fighting right now about Jude Law's portrayal of Henry VIII. So, as an historian, what do I think on the matter?

Apparently my take was too hot for the group I put it on lmao

In Firebrand, Jude Law's Henry VIII is violent, narcissistic, and quick to harm. In one of the first scenes with his character, Kit questions him about the implications of the execution of her on-screen friend, Anne Askew, and Henry doesn't hesitate to grab her hair, force her to kneel, and snarl at her. Later in the film, a drunk Henry beats a pregnant Kit, having begun to think that her child isn't his. This version is much colder than JRM's portrayal, and much, much nastier than Keith Michell's. But, was it accurate?

Henry VIII did have a history of pretty crap behavior: this was the person who executed the Duke of Buckingham on flimsy evidence that they were planning a coup. He was also well known for beating his advisors, specifically Thomas Cromwell. Although he began as an affable prince who was kind to women and those in need, it didn't last long: he left Catherine of Aragon to die at Kimbolton when she had heart cancer, and refused to let her daughter see her before her death. 

Henry is also well known as the king who executed two of his wives: Anne Boleyn in 1536 and Katherine Howard in 1542. Anne, his second wife whom he created the Anglican church for, had failed to give him a son by 1536, and had behaved inappropriately as Queen of England: conversations about the King's death had circulated, as well as bullying behaviors. Mind you, Anne was a knight's daughter: she had not been trained for this role in her youth, nor did she receive that training after her ascent to the throne. Henry used false charges, some of which surrounded her inappropriateness, to have her arrested and executed. Anne is widely believed to be innocent: a sentiment that I, too believe. 

Katherine Howard was Henry's fifth wife. Historians hope that she was closer to 17 at the time of her marriage to him, but there's a chance she was closer to 15. Katherine's main offence was a tricky one: she retroactively violated a law that did not exist at the time of her marriage to Henry: that any woman who married the king must disclose her sexual history within 30 days of the marriage. Katherine had a history, thanks to her upbringing at her grandmother's estate.

The Dowager Duchess Agnes Howard owned Chesworth House in Horsham, where she took in aristocratic children who were down on their luck. Katherine was a member of the infamous Howard clan, thus securing her place in the house. Although Chesworth sounds like a lovely place on paper, it housed an open secret: there was neglect within the walls, and the girls' dormitory had no lock on it. It is alleged that Katherine Howard had two very inappropriate relationships during her tenure there: both with older men, and both while she was a pre-teenager. Today, we call what happened to her grooming, however that was not the case back in the 16th century: it was fornication, and retroactively a crime. 

Katherine also had a friendship with one Thomas Culpeper: Culpeper had a history of sexual violence, and it seems he became much too close to the naive, young Queen. Their letters were used as evidence that they both committed adultery with one another: once against a statement that is being seen through different lenses in the history community today. Henry swore once he heard the news of her infidelity that he would strangle her himself, and often wept. 

Both would lose their lives over this malarky.

On another note: what we call domestic violence in the 21st century was once legal, and it was so in the Tudor era. Within marriage vows, a woman promised to be "bonny and buxom in bed and in board," and if she failed, she could be expected to be beaten. Men were the head of the household: a woman was beneath him, and so were the children, and he was expected to discipline both. This often came in the form of hitting, boxing, or using a switch to get the job done. However, there were rules pertaining to how a husband could beat his wife: if the rod he used to beat her was too thick (thicker than his thumb), he could get in massive trouble with the church. If a man used violence too often in the household, or his discipline was life threatening, a woman could annul her marriage on the grounds of cruelty. 

Henry, by the time he was married, was expected to discipline his wives: he was their leader and their head, and they were to obey. It was nearly expected that he would discipline them. 

So, was Jude Law accurate to Henry VIII? Very much so. I think he captured the essence of the real man perfectly. Law really got into this role, even securing a perfume that smelled like stool to be more accurate to his character.  I think it's high time that we stop fantasizing about Henry VIII as a cordial and romantic husband and recognize him for who he was: cruel, cold, and tyrannical. 

Review: Firebrand/The History Behind It

Although this movie released a year earlier at The Cannes Film Festival, it wasn't until this July that there was any sort of release to theatres, or streaming. In order to review this movie, I had to buy it on Apple here in the US, however it is also available to stream on Amazon Prime. I don't know how to view it in the UK, unfortunately: it seems you might need a VPN to do so.

!!!SPOILERS AHEAD FOR FIREBRAND!!!

The poster for Firebrand

Firebrand is based off of the book "Queen's Gambit" by Elizabeth Freemantle. The book itself follows Catherine Parr, the final wife of Henry VIII, through her adult life. The book itself takes a few liberties, however very few of them made it into the movie. Maybe if I'm able to get my hands on the book, I'll write a review here about it as well.

The movie, interestingly enough, follows a certain part of the book, and is narrated in the beginning and end by Princess Elizabeth, the second daughter of Henry VIII. Although it centers around his last marriage, the story mainly focusses on the window between Henry returning from his last wars with the French (the siege of Boulogne) and his death on January 28th, 1547. Henry does not appear for a good chunk of the first bit of the movie. 

Instead, we see Catherine (called Kit in the movie) act as regent: attending council meetings, taking care of her stepchildren: the Prince Edward and Princess Elizabeth, and meeting secretly with the Protestant Martyr Anne Askew who probably never met Catherine. 

There was, however, some unrest about the possibility that they had back in the day: Bishop Gardiner was trying his hand at re-converting Henry back to Catholicism before his death, and saw an opportunity to rid the court of as many Reformers as he could. Catherine was one of them, yet he was having trouble securing evidence of this. Catherine had come from the same part of the north of England that Anne Askew had, and Anne was very popular and had already been arrested twice before for heresy (which was unheard of, as heresy was a two strike offense: get arrested a second time and it's game over). Anne, at the time of this plot, had been arrested a third time, and in her chronicles The Latter Examinations of Anne Askew, it was clear that her entire imprisonment was mainly concerned which high born ladies she was connected to, and if she was connected to the Queen. Askew never spoke definitively as to if she had connections, or who they were, so she went to her death having not implicated Parr. However, Gardiner still was able to mock up an arrest warrant for Catherine, which was only disregarded because Henry forgot he signed it.  

Back to the plot, a few things happen in the story that aren't exactly accurate: first of all, Catherine becomes pregnant. There is no evidence that Catherine Parr became pregnant before her marriage to Thomas Seymour, a pregnancy ultimately caused her death. This fictional pregnancy is explained away in the film as a fetal loss, which makes a bit more sense in the book, where Catherine has a history of pregnancy loss, but not much in the movie, where that context is erased.

Secondly, Catherine is arrested and imprisoned, only to be released before Henry's death. This, as stated before, is not true: Catherine and Henry eventually reconciled, and Henry completely forgot about the arrest warrant. Catherine never was imprisoned: she had actually burned a lot of her heretical writings before any could be collected. 

Thirdly, Catherine did not cause Henry VIII's death. Although it feels good to see Kit, having been told time and time again what had happened to her namesake, Catherine Of Aragon, press a pillow into the face of the man who had done so much harm to the women before her, Henry VIII died of what historians believe was a mix of diabetes complications and a bone infection (unfortunately this link goes with Alison "Pulmonary Embolism" Weir's thoughts on the matter) He died around midnight, on his late father's birthday, clutching a rosary to his chest: an ironic sight for the man who tried desperately to break from the church who required such. I can't lie though: I did cheer when Kit smothered him, and I almost hate to admit that lol

Besides plot points, Firebrand has amazing costumes and settings: everything looks nearly period, and the French hoods have straps! It's a lovely piece, although I should warn future viewers that there is a LOT of domestic violence in the film, and it's unfortunately pretty historically accurate.

But, the characters are pretty on par to what their historical counterparts would have been like, and it's an overall gorgeous and enthralling film that I definitely recommend (if you can stomach it). 

Introduction

Hello! My name is Kate, and I have been studying history for something like 14 years now. I recently left a bunch of the Facebook groups I'm on to focus on getting a history degree, but I still need an outlet for my rants, so I made a new blog for that. Hope you enjoy your stay!