OK, I think it’s important for me to tell you as we go into this Tudorial that there are NO Tudors in it at all. Not one. At the time of writing the UK is in complete lock-down as a response to the Coronavirus pandemic, and whilst I have a list of about a million Tudor related subjects to write about, now seems like a good time to write about the absolute badass villagers of Eyam and how they chose to make the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good. Buckle in – it’s a tear jerker (sorry not sorry)

Here goes…

Most people are familiar with the Black Death, and understand that it ravaged through Europe and Asia from the mid-1300’s onwards. It was responsible for killing 50million people in Europe in the 14^th century, eventually fucking off for good in the late 17^th century*. The last serious epidemic in England occurred between 1665 -1666, and was rather originally named ‘The Great Plague’, (the title of ‘The Black Death’ had been taken in 1348 after a mass outbreak, but it was all the same shit).

The plague itself was an utter bastard of a disease, claiming the lives of around 100,000 English people between 1665-66, and giving rats a reputation that they didn’t really deserve. The disease itself was basically a sneaky little cockweasle of a bacteria that hung out in the goz of fleas. The fleas then went about happily, riding on the back of rats who unwittingly went about their ratty business, ignorant to the fact that these fleas were biting everything in sight, infecting them and spreading the plague at a rate of knots.

If you caught the plague, you were more than likely fucked – and if you shared living quarters with an infected person, you were more than 100x more likely to catch the infection. If you caught it you knew about it. The bacteria (Yersinia pestis if you want to get scientific), would enter the body through fleas saliva when you got bit, travelling straight to the lymphatic system and causing some pretty shitty reactions. Firstly, as your body tries (pointlessly) to react, tennis ball sized ‘plague-boils’ would sprout up in your groin and armpits, leaking pus and blood all over the place. Then would follow headaches,  fever, aches and chills, accompanied by an onslaught of diarrhoea and sickness which made light work of both orifices… and then you died.

The plague was rife in London in 1665. The rich often fled to hide in their country estates (usually taking the disease with them), whilst the infected poor were boarded up in their houses. The government had very little by way of a plan, and it started to become every man for themselves, (sounds familiar eh?!).  London was in absolute chaos, and since quarantine regulations didn’t place restrictions on trade routes, the rest of the country quickly found themselves at risk; seamlessly taking us to the heroes at the heart of our story: the villagers of Eyam in Derbyshire.

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Eyam is a tiny village in the heart of the Peak District in Derbyshire. It lies between Bakewell (of tart fame) and Sheffield (of steel fame), and quite close to Chesterfield (of bent church fame). In 1665, its population is estimated to be around 350-800. Historical records differ, but either way you can tell by the numbers that it was, and still is, fucking tiny. Despite being small, Eyam was a known stop-off for travelling merchants from London taking goods up north. One such merchant who lived in the village was a tailor named Alexander Hadfield.

In August 1665, Alexander sent for cloth from London, which was now under the ravages of the Great Plague. When the bale of cloth arrived at his home, Alexander’s assistant, George Vikers, opened it and upon noticing it was damp hung it out by the fireplace to dry. Unbeknownst to George and Alexander, the cloth was riddled with infected flea larvae which were pure digging on the heat from George’s fire. On September 7^th George became Eyam’s first fatality of the plague. By the end of the month another 5 people had died. Knowing now that the plague had well and truly hit the village, panic and hysteria ensued, and people began to consider leaving.

In this historical period and in this part of the world, religion was everything and people began to turn to the church for answers. The local rector was a man named William Mompesson, who had only recently taken up post (and was now probably wishing he hadn’t).  He, his wife and children had moved to the village a year or so previously to replace the previous rector, Sherland Adams.

Sherland has no importance to this story except that he was sent to replace the previous minister, Thomas Stanley, and then promptly died only to be replaced by Mompesson. Stanley however, is pivotal to this story. He had been appointed as rector to the parish of Eyam in 1644 under the rule of the puritan leader Oliver Cromwell, and being that way inclined themselves, the villagers loved him. However, as times changed and the royalists crept back in, Stanley was given the boot after he refused to take the Oath of Conformity and use the Common Book of Prayer.

Thomas Stanley soon found himself in exile under the ‘5 mile act of 1665’, which stated that no member of the clergy could live less than 5 mile of his previous parish. Luckily for his beloved parishioners, Stanley was belligerent enough to decide he would stay in Eyam only to watch the utter royalist dickhead, Sherland Adams, promptly followed by the cocky youthful gobshite Mompesson, waltz in and steal his parish. This didn’t really matter though as the people of Eyam were loyal to Stanley, and had no time for these new royalist pretenders.

When the plague hit Eyam, it hit hard. Mompesson was desperate to maintain some sort of order and control, to restrict the spread of the disease, and to prevent it from reaching the neighbouring industrial city of Sheffield as well as the other surrounding villages. His idea was for the village to go into self-quarantine, shutting its borders and preventing anyone from leaving or entering in an attempt to quash the spread. Knowing this meant imminent death, and not really giving two shits for the words of the new vicar, the villagers understandably told Mompesson to fuck right off. That when Mompesson realised that if he was stop the spread of the plague, he would need to enlist the help of his predecessor, Stanley, so made the 2 minute trip down the road to drag him out of exile.

When reading about Eyam, many sources give conflicting accounts; for example the number of villagers that inhabited the village, or whether it was Mompesson or Stanley who was to take the credit for the whole quarantine idea. However one thing which resonates through them all is how well the two men put their religious differences aside, and worked together for the greater good. Using Stanley to win over the villagers, Mompesson convinced them that the only way to stop the spread of the plague was for them to take the hit and let the disease die with them, there, in the village.

Mompesson persuaded the villagers not to flee Eyam by telling them that he’d be with them until the bitter end, and reiterating the importance that nobody leaves as they were all in it together blah, blah, blah. Then, after sending his own kids to live in Sheffield, he closed the town boundaries to stop people from leaving or entering. By all accounts, the people did this willingly. Possibly because they believed that the harsh winter months would kill the disease – which to an extent it did limit the transmission, but 42 people still died between September and December and, of course, the following summer was one of the hottest known, causing the fleas to go fucking mental.

Not being self-sufficient, Eyam’s successful isolation depended on the grace of other local villages to support them. ‘Plague stones’ were set up around Eyams parameters whereby money was placed in a well of vinegar in the stone to disinfect the coins, in trade for food. The stones can still be seen around the village.

The villagers also took other precautions. Mompesson had put a hold on all funerals so he could tend to the dying, and held church services in the open fields to reduce contact between parishioners. To reduce the risk of contamination it was also ordered that people were buried with immediate haste in a grave near where they died. This mean that the consecrated grounds of the cemetery were now out of bounds for many of the God-fearing villagers, who were forced to bury their loved ones in their own gardens and fields close to their homes.

Many of the survivors had the added indignity of moving their deceased loved ones by tying ropes around their feet and dragging them to the fields, so as to not be in contact with the infection. By far the shittest account of any is that of Elizabeth Hancock, who was forced to bury six of her children and her husband who were all taken by the plague within 8 days of each other. The graves are still in Eyam today under protection by the National Trust. Surviving the plague, it’s hard to imagine if Elizabeth would have felt blessed or cursed by the events.

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As the plague ravaged the village people began burning their clothes and soft furnishings at the advice of Mompesson who led by example. One man who failed to heed this advice was a bloke called Marshall Howe. Marshall had caught the plague and, against all odds, recovered. Believing that he could not catch it twice, he decided to make some extra cash by turning his hand to grave digging. Marshall stood to earn a pretty decent income from this alone, but he still he topped this up by stealing the clothes and other possessions of the dead. Although Marshall survived the plague, he lost his young child and wife. It is thought that they had caught the plague from the infected clothes of the deceased that Marshall stole from.

Things were looking grim. Mompesson’s own beloved wife, Catherine, had died and Stanley had set to helping the villagers write their wills (a few of which survive in Eyam Museum). They kept detailed records of every member of the village who lost their life. People were forbidden to see their families and friends in neighbouring villages and all ties to life, with the exception of aid, outside Eyam were cut.

Another famous story is that of Rowland Torre and Emmot Sydall who were betrothed when the plague hit. Emmot lived in Eyam with her family and Rowland in the neighbouring village. Each night they would sneak out and meet secretly, whispering (or shouting more likely) sweet nothings across the river to each other, until one night Emmot stopped coming. The story goes that as soon as the quarantine was lifted, Rowland was one of the first in the village, eager to find Emmot, but she’d already died, leaving him heartbroken forever more. Fucking horrific.

Having no cure for the plague, the villagers were utterly left in the shit and forced out of desperation to resort to the absolutely fucking ridiculous treatments prescribed by the 17^th century. One of the best being to pluck a pigeons tail feathers out and rub the bald bird on your boils until it dies. What cunt came up with this is not known. Another was to lay a frog onto a boil until it bursts. That is the frog bursts, not the boil! It’s amazing that this shit was prescribed by physicians during a period when the number 1 pastime was witch-hunting.

On November 1^st, 1666 the last victim of the Eyam plague had died. It claimed the lives of 260 men, women and children from 76 families. Comparatively, Eyam had a higher percentage of plague deaths than London. It was due to the bravery and sacrifice of the villagers, and the leadership skills of Mompesson and Stanley that the plague did not take hold elsewhere. They had saved the lives of potentially thousands by preventing the spread to the nearby and densely populated city of Sheffield. Absolute fucking badasses.

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With all of this happening during such a religiously charged time in history, it is interesting to think of how the villagers (and indeed Eyam’s neighbouring villages) saw God’s role in all of this. Were they being punished for past sins? Were they doing the lords work by quarantining themselves, acting as the chosen ones, giving their lives to stop the disease? It’s hard to know.

Both Mompesson and Stanley survived the plague of Eyam. Mompesson left the village in 1669 to go and work in Nottinghamshire. What’s really wank (aside from all of the aforementioned death) is that his reputation became as a plague minister, and not as the brave bastard he was. Consequently he was forced to live in isolation in a hut from the fear of his new parishioners who suspected that he may bring the plague to them. Shitehawks.

The word ‘quarantine’ derives from the Italian phrase ‘quarantina giorni’ meaning ‘40 days’. This was the standard period of time expected of those isolating from the plague. For the people of Eyam, their quarantine lasted 14 months and took the lives of over a third of their village.

• With special thanks to Eyam Museum for being so frigging good https://www.eyam-museum.org.uk/. If you’re ever in Derbyshire you should visit Eyam; the pictures I have borrowed are only small pieces of it’s history, you have to see it to really feel it).

*Although the plague left Europe at this time, the World Health Organisation report that there are still to this day around 1000-3000 new cases of it confirmed each year, (mostly in African countrie

A few weeks ago I decided to go and visit Kenilworth to do a bit of research for a write up. It’s been on my hit list for a while and, let’s be honest, if a big fuck-off castle doesn’t help me find my motivation for writing Tudorials again, then nothing will.

The original grounds for Kenilworth were built in the early 1100’s by King John, and then later modified and extended by other historical legends such as John of Gaunt and Henry V. In fact, Kenilworth is apparently where Henry V was when Charles VI of France sent him a box of tennis balls, suggesting him such a child that he might prefer to stay at home and play tennis, and leave war to real men… Needless to say, Henry battered the shit out of him.

Originally, the surrounding grounds had been flooded, creating a large mere which not only provided a strong defensive structure, but it also gave the castle’s inhabitants generous hunting grounds. It’s hard to believe this when you visit now, as the land around Kenilworth is green as far as the eye can see -which is miles and miles; the views alone are worth visiting the castle for.

All this is reason enough to visit Kenilworth, but to put the final cherry on the top of an already amazing cake, in 1563 Elizabeth I gave the castle to her bestie, Robert Dudley. Dudley wasted no time in proceeding to pimp the living shit out of it in an attempt that she might choose him to marry, or drop her knickers for him at least.

Elizabeth had many reasons to grant Dudley such a magnificent, and historically important property. Firstly, Dudley was her beloved childhood friend and favourite, and having been through so much together, (such as both finding themselves in the tower during the downfall of Jane Grey, and Dudley’s brother, Guildford), Elizabeth possibly wanted to celebrate their rise in fortune. Secondly, the castle held significance for Dudley and his family as it had previously, yet very briefly, belonged to his father, that right honourable prick, John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland. However the castle had been passed back to the crown after Northumberland had married his son, Guildford, to the nine day queen, Jane Grey, and tried to control the crown himself, like the greedy shitehawk he was.

Anyway, back to Robert Dudley and Kenilworth. Upon being granted the castle, Dudley wasted no time in continuing the improvements his father had already started. In the summer of 1575, when Elizabeth came to visit Dudley at Kenilworth, he pulled out all the stops. He had a new tower added to the castle in an attempt to wow the queen. The tower comprised of private chambers and must have been impressive as Elizabeth spent 19 days there, the longest period she ever spent at any of her courtier’s houses.

Upon her arrival, it’s said that Dudley had ensured the castle was draped with symbolism, in a vain attempt to woo the Queen and profess his love to her, in hope that she might marry him. He hired musicians to sing ballads of love and marriage at the Queen, masques, bear baiting, hunting expeditions into the Warwickshire countryside. There were even fireworks. Dudley was so hell-bent on expressing his love for the Queen that he commissioned two life-size portraits of them both to hang on the walls of the palace and paid a fool to jump out of a bush as she left, singing a cheesy as frig song about how she should just stay and marry him – subtlety clearly not being his strong point. He spent a fucking bomb on trying to get laid, and though impressive, it didn’t work because Elizabeth never caved, (this might be something to do with his wife’s suspicious death, but that’s a story for another page).

Upon Dudley’s death in 1588, the castle passed firstly to Dudley’s brother and then to his illegitimate son, also rather originally named Robert Dudley. In 1611, he sold it to James I son, Henry, Prince of Wales. After that, the castle changed hands several time, passing between royalty and nobles, becoming nothing more than a tourist attracting in the 18^th and 19^th centuries. Now you can visit courtesy of English Heritage, and I suggest you do because even in ruins, the castle is bursting with stories of past heroes, villains and lovers.

If you’re interested, you can read about the Duke of Northumberland’s downfall here, and if you’re curious about the dodgy death of Dudley’s wife you can read that here.

 

Introduction

Horowitz (2002), states that the ways in which disabilities are categorised are controlled by the ‘dominant mode of thinking’ at a specific period of time. It is precisely this ‘mode’ of thought that affects the way in which a society responds to certain positions, such as disability and poverty. Sixteenth century England proved to be an excellent example of this. By marking a momentous turning point in religious history, it offered new ‘modes’ of thought in regards to disability, as well as creating a shift in the way that people with disabilities, illness’ and impairments were cared for, and perceived.

Whilst the teachings of Martin Luther were gaining momentum, and support for his attack on Papal control was rising throughout Europe, in England it provided a perfect opportunity to be exploited for monarchical gain by Henry VIII. With the implementation of the protestant reformation, England saw rapid and significant change of perceptions towards the disabled and infirm. This change in attitude appears to be catalysed by closures of monasteries and abbeys, which previously served to provide aid to such individuals.

Prior to the reformation, England had seen a support system for individuals with impairments and disabilities akin to that outlined by the social model of disability, with focus on integration and support (Stone, 1984 as cited in Sheer and Groce 1988). Stainton (2002), states that there was, in fact, no medical remit for institutions assisting those with intellectual disabilities prior to the reformation, and suggests that the fact that ‘inmates’ had intellectual disabilities was merely incidental. This illustrates that although individuals with disabilities may have still faced socially constructed barriers, emphasis was still placed on the care of individuals within communities; with disability often a secondary complaint next to poverty. Likewise, with Horowitz’ statement in mind, the ‘mode’ of disability at the time appears to be considered spiritually-derived and socially addressed, rather than medically labelled and treated.

Along with the reformation, other factors contributed to this shift in treatment of disabled individuals; a rising population, advancements in communication and a move towards an interest in science and medicine, meant that Europe was undergoing social and cultural change at an exponential rate. The political and economic issues of the mid-16^th century had serious consequences for the most vulnerable within society. Within England the closure of religious caring institutions, such as monasteries, led to an increase in vagrancy and poverty. Poor laws were thus adapted in response to these changing times.

The ever evolving laws, ironically only served to heighten the social disparity for those with disabilities and eventually the economic crisis resulted in greater upheavals, such as increased vagrancy and disease spread. It became a cyclic, and destructive series of amendments that responded to immediate pressures placed on the state, rather than seeking out long term solutions. Religious and communal support systems were rapidly replaced by public hospitals and medicalisation, and those most in need, (categorised by Sheer and Groce (1988), as ‘unmarried mothers, orphans, mentally and physically disabled, and sick person’s’) faced new forms of discrimination and stigmatism.

Stone (1984, as cited by Sheer and Groce, 1988), suggests that disabled people did not become detached from traditional methods of support until industrialisation in the 19^th and 20^th centuries, and that institutionalisation did not begin until this time also. However, I would dispute that claim and argue that the initial movement away from traditional care systems occurred as a consequence of the reformation, with the foundations for institutionalisation and social control being laid during this time period.

Here I will set out an argument that outlines the mechanisms behind the changing of attitudes towards disabled individuals during the period of 1485 to 1700. I will evidence how the aftermath of the Protestant reformation in England brought about social change for people with disabilities; shifting from a structure of religiously led support systems, and social integration and care, to an economic crisis resulting in vagrancy, exclusion and discrimination. I will compare attitudes towards disability, both pre and post reformation; discussing how the closure of religious caring establishments moved care of the disabled and sick from a family and communal based system of care, to one of duty-bound state institutions.

Additionally, I will go on to argue that the consequence of this cultural shift further reinforced a negative view of disability within society, changing people’s perceptions of disability from one of an ingrained sense of care, to a perception of burden. Where disability was seen as a holy and spiritual act prior to the reformation, it was soon deemed disdainful, and draining to state finances post reformation.

 

Pre reformation attitudes towards Disability within Europe; 1485 – 1532.

The concept of ‘disability’ is a modern idea; The World Health Organisation describes to the term as the restrictions observed by an individual as a consequence of their impairments. The term ‘disability’ was not recorded in English history until the late 16^th century, during which time it was used to refer to a ‘want of power, strength or ability’(Wasserman et al, 2016), as opposed to a social disadvantage brought about through impairment. It is clear that disability was not viewed then as it is now, within its modern day meaning. Indeed, prior to and during the 16^th century, individuals were not considered ‘disabled’ within the modern meaning at all, as social integration was viewed as a normality, and persons with impairments did not face the same social construct of disability that people do in society today. However, for clarity and the avoidance of repetition, I shall use the term ‘disability’ to refer to individuals with impairments or illness that may have potentially caused disability, as we would understand it within the modern meaning.

During the middle ages, (5^th-15^th century), impairments and illness were commonplace, regardless of age, wealth or social status. It was prevalent amongst both peasants and nobility, and accepted equally by both. Although disability was viewed differently between different societies within Christendom, it was not usually seen as a cause for complete segregation or isolation from normal society. In the middle ages, ‘non-normative’ bodies were seen to be a canal for God, with the rich donating alms in exchange for spiritual encounters (Row-Heyveld, 2009; Jarrett, 2012; Metzler, 2006). Others, such as those with physical impairments, were believed to be suffering punishment for their past sins, or those of their parents (Covey, 2005). Whilst those suffering from mental illness could be viewed as undergoing demonic possession.

There were various examples of the consequences of sin, and teaching of how such actions would lead to imperfections n the human form, outlined in biblical passages as a warning to those who may succumb to temptations (Metzler, 2006). The impact of these cautionary teachings for most, would have resultantly relied on the clerical interpretation from Latin, therefore widely inaccessible for the poor pre-reformation.

Attitudes towards disability had seemingly changed very little by the turn of the 16^th century, and although the social structures of European countries remained complex, they remained under the governance of the Catholic Church, and led by ancient doctrines. The monarchs of Christendom still took dictation from the Pope and papal representatives, and so a certain degree of uniformity was maintained throughout the Holy Roman Empire.

Society during the period is best described by Miles (2001), who, when discussing the Germanic region of the early sixteenth century, suggested that it was:

‘pre-scientific, pre-printing, narrow, inflexible, dominated by hierarchical religion and supposedly all-embracing doctrine, characterised by superstition, credulity and dependant on translated and packaged knowledge from ancient authorities’.

Due to the nature of the environment, accidents and illnesses were common place, and frequently left individuals with permanent disabilities and impairments, which were often regarded as ‘divine interventions’, (Loimer et al, 1996). Some individuals would face life changing disabilities brought about by common practices, for example swaddling, which prevented vitamin D uptake and ultimately caused Rickets (Penny-Mason & Gowland, 2014). Disability also came in the form of congenital defects, learning disabilities and ‘mental illness’. Regardless of the mode, attitudes towards disabilities were mixed during these times, as I shall go on to discuss. Despite this, the upkeep of such individuals was viewed as a civic duty of care, rather than a need to treat or cure. This is not to say however that all individuals were cared for, some were abandoned by society, and forced to turn to begging in order to survive (Erskine & McIntosh, 1999).

Prior to the reformation, vagrants with disabilities had been viewed as the responsibility of religious institutions, such as monasteries, and were able to seek refuge and shelter throughout the land. As such, they were deemed by the state as the ‘deserving poor’ or ‘worthy poor’ (Sheer & Groce, 1988), and likely to receive donations and religious help, (Row-Heyveld, 2009). However, as the population increased towards the early 1500’s, more disabled beggars were seen on the streets, putting an increased demand on religious institutions and local parish’s, and for those who were not in a position to be assisted by communities, they were forced to either find work or move on. It is important to note here, that for the ‘worthy poor’, those with disabilities or impairments restricting them from work, begging was legally allowed by means of survival.

For the majority of those with disabilities and impairments who were able to work, and not forced into vagrancy, there is abundant evidence to suggest that they were well integrated into society, often maintaining employment and engaging in community life (Metzler, 2006; Row-Heyveld, 2009; Jarrett, 2012). Those that were able to participate in such activities were cared for by relatives or the parish, and often in receipt of alms from rich sponsors, usually in the form of housing or monetary donations. This was usually a non-altruistic exchange, as it enabled the sponsor to encounter divine presence by assisting the ‘blessed’, (Row-Heyveld, 2009).

Prior to the reformation in England, Religious institutions played a pivotal role in the care of the disabled. Whilst basic hospitals catered for the poor and infirm, the expectation was that the sick, customarily pilgrims, would reside there short term, ordinarily one night, in order to receive rest and a hot meal (Mahood, 2015). These ‘spytalls’ did not offer diagnosis or medicalisation in the sense that we would observe today, although more long-term establishments  did ensure quarantine against infectious diseases such as leprosy, which was prevalent in England during the Middle Ages. Leprosy was regarded as an act of divine penance for sexual sins (Augente & Gilchrist, 2011), with those in care receiving religious prayers and interventions, rather than long term, medical assistance.

The spytalls were still closely overseen by religious authorities (Augenti and Gilchrist, 2011), sparse in their locations, and in short supply (Mahood, 2015). Those with disabilities who were unable to seek long term care from their families, often had very few options but to travel to spytalls away from their home towns, thus travelling vagabonds became common. Spytalls which offered long term provision were in short demand, and thus overcrowded and underfunded.

One such notable establishment was the priory of Bethlam, (or ‘Bedlam’ as it became later known). Although predominantly caring for the sick poor, Bethlam started to gain a reputation for its attentive care towards those with mental illness, and by 1403 cared for an inordinate amount of such individuals (Andrews, 1991). At this time, Bethlam, like the other spytalls and priories, was known as a place of respite, and did not become known as an ‘asylum’ or medical institution until 1634,  (Andrews, 1991).

As a disability was seen to be an act of God in one capacity or another, the monasteries, priories and abbeys served to help those who may be afflicted to understand their circumstances; seeking atonement for past sins, whilst simultaneously acquiring refuge and understanding from the community within the monastery walls, which acted as a ‘surrogate family’ for those who society had rejected (Crislip, 2005).

Medical care in the late 15^th to early 16^th century was limited to those who could afford it, with practitioners being of wealthy and educated backgrounds (Augenti & Gilchrist, 2011). Royal physicians were seen in courts across Europe, however there role was little more than the preservation of the monarchs health, and advising in the acquisition of male heirs (Nutton, 2018). The physicians seemed to have little responsibility regarding permanent disability. Since court life was centred on politics and status, physicians often played additional advisory roles within the court. This remained common practice prior to the reformation through to the 19^th century, (Nutton 2018).

Medical intervention at court was little more than management of pain caused by illness. Long term and life changing disabilities were still perceived to be a consequence of divine providence, and those with certain ‘intellectual impairments’, were thought to have been derived as a direct result from holy blessings and spiritual connections (Lipscomb, 2012, as cited in Jarrett, 2012; Levitas & Reis, 2003). This belief led to the employment of ‘fooles’, (or ‘naturals’ and ‘innocents’ as they were otherwise named), by monarchs, whose purpose was to entertain wealthy courtiers. This practice was common with monarchs throughout the sixteenth century, and across Europe, and changed little post reformation. Although this remained relatively unchanged, I feel it important to include it here as I believe the contradictory discourse concerning the employment of fools provides much evidence of the treatment of those with learning disabilities, and mental illness during the late antiquity, through the 16^th century.

Some academics state that the presence of ‘fools’ at court highlighted the close proximity of the monarch with sentient beings, and those who were blessed (Lipscomb, 2012, as cited in Jarrett, 2012). Evidence to support this is found in artwork such as the painting ‘The Adoration of the Christ Child’, circa 1515, which is believed to depict an image of an angel with Downs Syndrome (Levitas and Reid, 2003). This suggests a link between the perceptions of such conditions with divinity. However, others argue that the ‘abnormality’ observed in fools was a ‘sentence passed by God’ for previous sins, and they were therefore placed with in society to be ridiculed as penance for this (LeGoff, 1988, as cited in Metzler, 2006).

I would argue that the latter suggestion is somewhat misleading, as there is a large body of evidence to suggest the ‘fools’ were valued members of court, and admired for their honesty and innocence, hence considered spiritual. For example, the famous fool of Henry VIII, Will Sommers, received the highest forms of gratitude and privilege from the King; in the form of monetary rewards, and heightened social status. This was not an isolated case, as fools across Europe were granted similar privileges. Conversely, the language used when discussing fools in literature would suggest that all too often, especially in older citations, academics confuse the treatment of those with mental illness during the period, with that of those who we may identify in present day as having learning difficulties.

 

The reformation, vagrancy and a change in perception.

The trigger of the reformation in England, between 1532 and 1534, generated a rapid political, economic and cultural reconstruction. As Henry VIII broke from the Holy Roman Empire, he turned to other reformist countries to take their lead, which inadvertently lead to a change in the way society treated people with disabilities, impairments and illness. This change was in part the responsibility of practical factors such as the dissolution of the monasteries, but also due to a social need to seek out new religious influences and biblical interpretations; mainly those of the Germanic reformer, Martin Luther.

There has been much discourse concerning Luther’s opinions towards disability; some academics perceive Luther to hold great prejudices towards disabilities, focusing on his warnings of ‘changelings’ and ‘witchcraft’ (Miles, 2001), and his attitudes towards ‘mentally retarded children’ (Colón, 1989, as cited in Miles, 2001). However others, such as Miles (2001), take a more subjective approach when evaluating Luther’s teachings. It is impossible to correctly infer Luther’s thoughts on disability as we do not have his opinions concisely recorded. Nevertheless, it should be accepted that Luther’s attitude towards vagrancy had a direct impact on the disabled poor of England.

Luther’s preface in the book Liber Vagatorium (Anon, 1528), states clearly Luther’s attitudes towards vagabonds and beggars. It proposes that the public should be ‘prudent and cautious in dealing with beggars’, and that parish councils should know and register their poor, so as to eliminate vagrancy and ‘knaveries’. By these means, Luther suggests that councils can ensure monitory donations are only given to ‘honest paupers and needy neighbours’. This publication, along with many other of Luther’ works, had a substantial impact on the reformation movement, as it coincided with recent advancements of the printing press, enabling propaganda material to be easily published and distributed. Indeed, the Protestant reformation was first major campaign to utilise the printing press in order to expand communications across Europe, (Edwards, 2005), and literature regarding Luther’s interpretations of biblical texts, and his thoughts regarding vagrancy, were now readily available to the English reformers; possibly indirectly contributing to the stigmatisation of the disabled that followed.

Between 1532 and 1534, the reformation gained ground in England. The country witnessed a devastating effect on the disabled, brought about by the dissolution of the monasteries, and closure of over 260 religious ‘spytalls’ and almshouses: more than half that were present in England at the time (McIntosh, 1988). The closures forced the poor and disabled onto the streets, increasing levels of vagrancy. This happened with almost immediate effect after the reformation, as outlined in a petition to Henry VIII, in 1536, which called for:

‘an immediate reopening of the hospitals as ‘the miserable people lyeing in the streete, offending every clene person passing by the way’, (Strype, 1820).

In response to the emergency, Henry VIII legislated the ‘Act for Punishment of Sturdy Vagabonds and Beggars’ as part of the English poor laws. This act served to ensure that parish councils were held accountable for their poor and disabled parishioners (Slack, 1995).  However, the new amendment to the law proved to yield little by the way of outcomes for several decades and England saw a period of sixty years where religious sanctuaries had been eradicated, and the new hospitals and alms-houses that would replace them, not yet built (Penny-Mason & Gowland, 2014). Those with disabilities who could not be supported by their family or community members, now had very little choice but to turn to vagrancy.

In 1547, Edward VI gave permission for parish’s to increase taxes in order to fund the new building of hospitals. For example, In London, taxes were raised to fund the erection of St. Bartholomew’s hospital (McIntosh, 1988), which arguably led to a replacement of the religious caring establishments, with medicalised institutions. Other cities soon followed suit, and the heavy burden of tax inflations further took its toll on the poor. The hospitals, though being constructed, were still not built, and the state placed increasing responsibility on local parish’s to care for their infirm. Rich investors were now invited to sponsor the erection of new almshouses, though this provided to be little more than an opportunity to increase personal popularity, than to assist those in need (Jarrett, 2012). I would suggest that this was the turning point from the caring nature of the church, to a civic duty of the councils.

The responsibility of religious institutions as care providers was removed officially in 1572, by Elizabeth I, with the introduction of the Vagabonds Act. This legislation set out the new obligations to parish councils with respect to their poor and infirm, and ordered the Justice of the peace for each ward to distribute donations to those unable to work. The act set out governance stating that any ‘able bodied poor’ should be put to work to reduce the vagrancy population, these individuals faced heavy penalties if they failed to comply, such as whipping, branding and ‘ear boring’ (McIntosh, 1988). The ‘impotent poor’, those individuals known to parishes as too infirm or disabled to work (Sheer and Groce, 1988), were to be supported by the state, suggesting this was the initial precursor to the welfare system in England.

Although designed to protect the ‘impotent poor’ – that is, those with genuine conditions preventing them from work – it could be argued that the act served to further persecute them. With local parish’s now being responsible for their budgets, and the religious caring institutions gone, the disabled were beginning to be viewed as a burden on local societies and communities. As poor laws were refined to punish those who were seen to be undeserving, more individuals turned to feigning impairments to exploit the alms given to the ‘worthy poor’. One account suggests that some beggars would consume soap to induce convulsions similar to epilepsy, (Erskine & McIntosh, 1999), others were known to feign blindness, (Row-Heyveld, 2009). This generated stigmatism and provoked a negative backlash for the ‘worthy poor’, and those with genuine disabilities and impairments, who were now more commonly viewed as fraudsters.

Between 1563 and 1598, the poor population had increased so significantly that now over half of the population were unable to work through issues such as disability (McIntosh, 1988). MacFarlane (1990, as cited in McIntosh, 1988), suggests that the lack of assistance offered by wealthy families to their poor neighbours led to a rise in witchcraft charges around this time. I would go further and argue that that the collapse of social care from monastic provisions, coupled with the increase in poverty, not only promoted witchcraft charges, but also led to a direct persecution of those with disabilities by means of early eugenics; that is the deliberate eradication of those with disabilities and impairments to relive their ‘burden’ on the state.

By the late 16^th and early 17^th century, attitudes towards the disabled had changed significantly from the pre-reformation days of social and religious care. The late 16^th century saw an upsurge in interest in scientific and medical interventions, and institutions such as Bethlam had begun to specialise care, placing focus on medical interventions rather than traditional methods (Jarrett, 2012). Although thorough the 16^th and 17^th century the care of those with mental illness was still mainly allocated to families (Covey, 2005), a large proportion of individuals remained on the streets (Jarrett, 2012), with no care or social support akin to that they would have received prior to the reformation. I would also suggest that it is apparent through the change in langue found in records such as parish census’ and hospital registers, that stigmatism and labels for those with such conditions, were now being formed; with a shift of language from terms such as ‘natural foole’ and ‘impotent poor’, to ‘idiots’ and ‘lunatics’.

The late 16^th and 17^th century also saw a rise in ‘witch hunts’ which saw direct discrimination of those with physical and mental disabilities. Though many disabilities were still perceived to be a consequence of sin, the treatment towards disabled individuals had now shifted from one of a duty of care, to a right to persecute, ridicule and stigmatise.

 

Conclusion and Discussion.

Horowitz (2002), stated that society will always label and stigmatise. Whilst evidence would suggest this statement to be partly correct, in that people with disabilities have always faced prejudiced attitudes and persecution throughout history, it is also clear that the treatment of such individuals is influenced by the social and political pressures of the time period.

It can be said with a high level of certainty that disabled people were confronted with a rapid shift in legislation, as well as a change in the level and method of delivery of care, as a consequence of the economic aftermath of the reformation. Where there had previously been an inclusive and social support system, focused on spiritual healing, refuge and acceptance, the disabled citizens of post- reformation England faced vagrancy, institutionalisation and discrimination as consequence of the political upheaval. I believe this marked the initial shift from an early version of the social model of disability, toward a society beginning its journey down a path towards a medical based model of disability.

Not dissimilar to modern day, the economic position of the country throughout history has dictated the support received by disabled individual. However, unlike modern day, I would argue that prior to the reformation, there resided an ingrained system of social care, with families and religious institutions being the keys to inclusive provision. Stainton (2002) proposes that that it was poverty as opposed to impairment that drove the change in support during the sixteenth century. Whilst I agree with this statement, I would also add that it was also this poverty that lay the foundations for medicalisation of disabled individuals at this time.

The impact of the reformation on disabled members of society runs far wider than the issues addressed here. Further reading will undoubtedly highlight how the evolution of language, led to the formation of certain labels becoming common parlance, thus reinforcing stigmatism and discrimination at this time. Evidence may also be uncovered when further evaluating the impact on Luther’s teachings on disability, or how the English poor laws affected the early American settlers, and their views of disability in the sixteenth century. The reformation clearly proved to be an important, and pivotal turning point in the history of disability, having consequences not only for our disabled ancestors, but also shaping the future of disability and social care.

 

References

Andrews, J. (1991). Bedlam revisited: A history of Bethlam hospital c.1664-1770 [Ph. D. Thesis]. London. Queen Mary and Westfield College. London University.

Anon. (1528). Liber Vagatorium. (J. Camden-Hotten, Trans.) Wittemberg: unknown.

Augenti, A. & Gilchrist, R. (2011). Life, death and. The Archaeology of Medieval Europe, 2, 494-515.

Covey, H. (2005). Western Christianity’s two historical treatments of people with disabilities or mental illness. The Social Science Journal, 42, 107-114.

Crislip, A. (2005). Monastic health care in a functional context: The monastery as a surrogate family. In A. Crislip, From Monastery to Hospital: Monasticismand the transformation of health care in late antiquity (pp. 39-68). Michigan: The University of Michigan Press.

Edwards, M. (2005). Printing, Propaganda and Martin Luther. Minneapolis: Fortress Press.

Erskine, A. & McIntosh, I. (1999). Why begging offends: Historical perspectives and continuities. In H. Dean, Begging Questions: Street Level Economic Activity and Social Policy Failure (pp. 27-43). Bristol: The Policy Press.

Horowitz, A. (2002). Introduction: The proliferation of mental illness. In Creating Mental Illness (pp. 1-18). Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Jarrett, S. (2012). Disability in Time and Place. Retrieved from historicengland.org: https://historicengland.org.uk/content/docs/research/disability-in-time-and-place-pdf/

Levitas, A. & Reid, C. (2003). An Angel With Down Syndrome in a Sixteenth Century Flemish Nativity Painting. American Journal of Medical Genetics, 116A, 399-405.

Loimer, H. M. (1996). Public Health Then and Now. Accidents and Acts of God: A History of the Times. 86(1). American Journal of Public Health, 101-107.

Mahood, H. (2015). The liminality of care: caring for the sick and needy on the boundaries of monasteries. The Reading Medievalist, 2, 50-70. Retrieved from http://centaur.reading.ac.uk/72984/

McIntosh, M. (1988). Local responses to the poor in late medieval and Tudor England. Continuity and Change, 3(2), 209-245.

Metzler, I. (2006). Medieval theoretical concepts of the (impaired) body. In Disability in Medieval Europe (pp. 38-65). London: Routledge.

Miles, M. (2001). Martin Luther and childhood Disability in 16th Century Germany. Journal of Religion, Disability and Health, 5:4, 5-36.

Nutton, V. (2018). Medicine in the Courts of Europe. London: Routledge.

Penny-Mason, B. & Gowland, R. (2014). The Children of the Reformation: Childhood Palaeoepidemiology in Britain, ad 1000–1700. Medieval Archaeology, 58(1), 162-194.

Row-Heyveld, L. (2009). “The Lying’st Knave in Christendom”: The Development of Disability in the False Miracle of St.Albans. Disability Studies Quarterly, (29)4, https://doi.org/10.18061/dsq.v29i4.994.

Sheer, J. & Groce, N. (1988). Impairment as a human constant: Cross- cultural and historical perspectives on variation. Journal of Social Issues, 44(1), 23-37.

Slack, P. (1995). Defining Strategies. In P. Slack, The English Poor law, 1531-1782 (pp. 3-12). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Stainton, T. (2002). Medieval Charitable Institutions and Intellectual Impairment. Journal on Developmental Disabilities, 8(2), pp. 19-31.

Strype, J. (1820). Historical Biographical Works (Vol. 1(1)). Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Wasserman, D. A. (2016). Disability: Definitions, Models, Experience. (E. Zalta, Ed.) Retrieved from The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy: https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2016/entries/disability/

 

So…It all starts back with a beef within a family who had been scrapping for years about who the throne really belonged to. They were all related, but they were also a collective bunch of gobshites, and the family split into two sides: Lancaster and York. Thus began a series of scraps called ‘the Wars of the Roses’.

Anyway, this civil war went on for aaaaages, and the throne swapped back and forth between the houses. Most of the men in England were killed in the fighting, and people were getting pissed off. It all only came to a head in 1485, when both sides put up their front men, neither of which really deserved to be King.

On the Lancastrian side there was Henry Tudor; (a distant relation to the current King, and who had previously been exiled in France), and on the other side, Richard III; the current reigning King, who had nicked the throne from his nephew, (noticed I didn’t say killed his nephews in the tower…that’s cos I believe that to be some straight up bullshit).

Anyway, it all kicked off at the Battle of Bosworth when Henry Tudor kicked arse, thanks to his Mum’s husband. His mum was a crazy biatch called Margaret Beaufort, who had married a bloke with an army, called Henry Stafford. This prick Stafford had already vowed an allegiance to Richard III, and promised the reigning King his army. With this in mind, Margret had tried to win him over, saying shit like, ‘if you fight for Henry and win, you will be the step-father to a King, rather than a noble married to a traitor’s mum, with a small shit army’. This gave him much to ponder on.

Stafford  was a man with an interest in his own advancement, so not knowing what to do or who to fight for,  he sat on a hill  with his army, whilst the battle took place, watching and waiting until last minute to pick a side. It was in this last minute, quite literally, that he decided to rush in, switching sides, coming through for his step-son, Henry Tudor. This was the main reason that Henry won the battle of Bosworth. Think Jon Snow – Ramsey Bolton style, GoT Battle of the Bastards,  when the Arryn army came swooping in…which is clearly where that shit was nicked from.

So, Richard III was dead, and the throne swapped back to the Lancastrians. This time it was different though, because Margaret had secretly plotted with the previous Yorkist Queen, a pure badass called Elizabeth Woodville. The women had planned that if Henry won, he would marry Elizabeth’s daughter, Princess Elizabeth of York, and thus unite the houses, and bring about peace.

It’s worth pointing out three things here: 1). Elizabeth Woodville had been married to Edward IV, Richard III’s brother. When Edward died, Richard sort-of nicked the throne from Edwards’ son , so Elizabeth hated him and could not wait to fuck him over. 2) Rather grimly, Richard was in love with his niece, Elizabeth of York and they may have been having a secret romance.  3) Using fact 2 to her advantage, Elizabeth Woodville had also secretly agreed to marry the princess to Richard, should he win the battle of Bosworth. This would guarantee her families safety and Yorkist success, and since she  hated Margret Beaufort, she didn’t give too much of a shit about fucking her over… Woodville was nobodies bitch.

So it went…Henry won, married Elizabeth of York, made the Tudor rose to represent the combined houses, ending the civil unrest, and ruling for ages. Their first kid, Arthur (the heir), was married at 15 to a Spanish princess called Katherine of Aragon. When Arthur died a few months after the wedding, Katherine was kept in the country so Henry didn’t lose her dowry. When Elizabeth of York died, Henry was going to marry her himself but eventually, nine years later, married her off to his youngest son, Prince Henry (soon to become Henry VIII).

Henry and Katherine were SOOOOO IN LOVE. She was a badass too, but had about 9 miscarriages and only produced 1 living child, a girl called Mary. After twenty odd years of marriage, Henry met Anne Boleyn, and decided to cast Katherine aside to marry Anne instead; firstly because he felt he needed a male heir to guarantee Tudor succession and Katherine was now too old to bear children; and secondly because he was a cunt.

Henry appealed for divorce to the Pope, saying his marriage to Katherine was ‘unfruitful’ because he had married his brother’s wife, and God was angry at him so had refused him boys.  The pope was like ‘nice try, now fuck off’ and that was that. Since the Pope was the only man above Henry in the pecking order, Henry decided that he had to go, and that he start to make his own rules.

By coincidence, Lutheranism was kicking off in Germany, so Henry used this as his excuse to break away from the Catholic Church. He started to use the new movement to get the people of England on side, stating that the Pope had too much control, and that by sacking him off, they would all prosper. And so began the Reformation.

Once Henry broke from Rome, he was free to do whatever the fuck he liked. He kicked off by dissolving the monasteries and reclaiming their lands and monies, making him self an even richer man, and now having the lands to bribe the nobles at court with. He also officially sacked off Katherine, and married Anne Boleyn, who was now preggo.

He declared his first daughter, Mary, a bastard, and said that his kids with Anne would instead be first in line in succession. However, Anne also gave Henry a daughter, a girl called Elizabeth, and after just two years of marriage, he decided to move on from Anne. He now had his eyes on  wife number 3, and in order to get her knocked up with a legitimate heir, Henry had Anne executed on trumped-up chargers of incest and treason, and their daughter Elizabeth also declared a bastard.

Like a massive prick, Henry announced his engagement to his third wife, Jane, the day after Anne’s execution. Jane went on to give Henry his son, Edward, but she died of sepsis after childbirth. Henry was gutted and went into a deep mourning, wearing black for three months, giving the illusion that he actually had feelings of some sort.

Cromwell, his best lawyer, decided that Henry needed to get his shit together, and what better way to do this than yet another wife, (though why the fuck you would think that after Henry’s less-than-glittering track record is beyond me).

Cromwell found Henry a lovely, reformed lady by the name of  Anne of Cleves. She believed in the new religion and was the daughter of the Duke of Cleves, a highly reputable man, so this looked good. Upon meeting Anne, Henry, thinking he was hysterical (and lacking the self-awareness that would’ve told him his courtiers just humored him under worry of losing their heads), had decided to dress as a tramp and jump out on Anne. Not realising the stinking old man was actually the King, Anne told him where to go. If we are absolutely honest here, she probably struggled to hold it together when he did reveal himself to her, because by this point his looks had started to go, he was on the slippery slope to becoming a lard-arse, and his ulcerated leg would have stank. Not exactly a catch.

The wedding went ahead anyway, but embarrassed by their initial meeting, Henry made out that Anne was so ugly that he couldn’t perform in the bedroom on the wedding night. He likened Anne to a ‘Flanders Mare’, and obviously took no blame for the whole sorry event. Anne, living in a foreign country and surrounded by dickheads, carried on with best behavior as Queen, more than likely shitting herself that Henry was looking to do her in at any minute. The whole experience, though not exactly ideal,  did however give Henry a taste of the game again, and it wasn’t long before he was back on the letch.

It wasn’t long before he turned his attention to what was basically a child; a young maid called Catherine Howard. Catherine was a cousin of Henry’s second wife, Anne Boleyn, but she was also his current wife’s 17 year old lady in waiting,. Henry decided to ditch Anne of Cleves by asking her for a divorce, offering her a massive settlement as an incentive. Anne was like ‘yes bitch’, and retreated to her new massive house, with her new title of ‘the Kings Sister’, leaving Henry to crack on with  marrying his poor, abused child bride.

Henry was now 54, fat and vile, and it wasn’t long before his teen wife, Catherine, started to shag one of Henry’s best men. Catherine was a beautiful girl and had always had a fun streak. She had also had a fucking awful past that involved lots of neglect and sexual exploitation, so Catherine was no stranger to men. The bloke who Catherine risked it all for was a young man named Thomas Culpepper,  (he also happened to be a rapist, and her second cousin, but that is a different story). Eventually, Cromwell found out about his wife’s affair and told Henry, who obviously executed Catherine, Culpepper AND Cromwell, (as well as some other blokes who had been responsible for having ‘relations’ with Catherine prior to her marriage to Henry…)

Henry plodded on, getting older, fatter, stinkier and ever more cantankerous, until he married wife number 6, a rich widow called Catherine Parr. Henry knew that it was unlikely that Catherine would give him a child, but married her anyway, possibly just for company. Catherine was amazing to Henry and their marriage, albeit short, was happy. Then in 1547, Henry died, leaving England to his son, Edward.

Edward was really young, so was governed by his Uncle, also called Edward. He was an utter shit… if you think Henry was bad, Edward was way fucking worse – but, fortunately, he died when he was 15. Edward, knowing he would likely die young because he was so completely sickly and pathetic, decided to make a will. He wanted his badass protestant sister, Elizabeth, to inherit the throne because she believed in the same shit as him. The problem was that  Henry had declared her a bastard, and Edward knew that to undo that would mean his big sister, Mary, be ‘undeclared’ too. This would then put Mary ahead of Elizabeth in the line of succession, and Mary was a mental Catholic who would flip the country back to it’s old ways… the last thing that Edward wanted. To get around it he appointed his cousin, Jane Grey, also a protestant and close to Edward, as heir.

Jane’s mum, who was Henry VIII’s niece, was ahead of her in line to the throne, but stood down to make way for her daughter. This was the plan that had been made, but Jane’s family saw the situation for what it was: an opportunity to use Jane as a puppet to further their own gains. Jane’s parents married her off to a proper little womanising cunt called Guildford Dudley.

They did this because Guildford’s  dad, The Duke of Northumberland, had approached them with a plan. The Duke had been appointed as the Protector of the Realm after Edward’s Uncle had been sacked but, knowing that upon Edwards death his services would be no longer needed, he was desperate to keep his power. By marrying his son to the future Queen, the parents could manipulate the couple, and rule to country by proxy.

Jane didn’t want to be queen, and HATED Guildford with a passion. There was no fucking was she would be their puppet. In terms of being Queen she was in luck as her rule only lasted 9 days. This was because Mary came in like a badass, with her gang of supporters, correctly stating that she was the rightful heir. Jane was all like ‘yeah take the throne, I’m married to a dick, and never asked for it anyway’. At first, Mary was sympathetic to Jane. she had Guildford and his twatsack of a father executed, but had no choice other than to send her to the tower in order to send a message to her subjects, and quash any potential uprisings.

Mary told Jane that if she would convert to Catholicism she would escape the axe. Jane was an intelligent, and devout protestant, and there was no way she would do this. She would literally rather have died for her faith than convert. Mary begged and was desperate to spare her, but after an unsuccessful rebellion by some protestant subject, it became clear that whilst Jane was alive, the reformists had hope. Also, Mary’s soon-to-be husband, Phillip of Spain, kicked off good and proper, more than likely giving Mary the ultimatum of ‘Jane or me’, so Mary had Jane executed.

So came the rule of Bloody Mary. Mary married Phillip, and the pair tried very hard to convert the country back to Catholicism. The problem was that her subjects liked the new religion and the freedom that it brought, times were changing and they didn’t want to go back. Mary’s response? Burn the protestants. She was not the most popular Tudor monarch.

Mary’s reign wasn’t particularly successful. Her husband was a controlling dickhead, who fucked off and left her alone for long periods of time. She also had a phantom pregnancy that seemed to last forever, and made her a bit of a laughing stock. After 5 years of rule she died in 1558, possibly of ovarian cancer. Which brings us nicely to Gloriana: the reign of Elizabeth I.

The interesting thing to note here is that, had her father not been so hell-bent on having a boy, Elizabeth may never have been the successful monarch that she was. She came to the throne aged 25 and reigned for 45 years, getting shitloads done in the process. She was a total diva who made her ladies-in-waiting wear black and white so as not to outshine her. She kept the country in it’s protestant faith, held lotteries, won wars and crushed rebellions. She was freaking hardcore.

Upon her death in 1603, she named her cousin’s son, James VI of Scotland, as her heir, thus uniting England and Scotland. It’s interesting that the Tudor era started with two plotting, badass women, and ended with one pure and total legend of a queen. No wonder Henry felt threatened by the lack of males.

…and the rest,as they say, is (Jacobean) history.

In Tudor times, being the daughter of a nobleman would guarantee you one thing, and that was being married off to a rich, older gobshite, who would want to do nothing but squirt kids into you from day one… A thrilling notion I’m sure you will agree, and for a young Catherine Parr, things were no different.

Catherine’s first marriage was to Lord Edward Burgh. Although not that old, (which I imagine Catherine was grateful for), he was sickly and only four years after their marriage, he went and died.

For her second husband,

Catherine wasn’t so lucky in the age department. John Neville, AKA Lord Latimer, was 42 and so more than twice 19 year old Catherine’s age, and she was stuck with him for nine years. On the plus side though, when he died he left Catherine wealthy – and I mean WEALTHY. Like shitting out gold bars wealthy.

 

Catherine was now one of the most eligible women in England, and it didn’t take long before she caught the eye of a young scal named Thomas Seymour (though in actual fact it’s quite possible that they had their eyes on each other prior to Catherine being made a jolly widow).

Tom Seymour was the brother of Henry VIII’s favourite queen, his family were in favour, and all the girls were wet for him – but he only had eyes for Katherine, and unsurprisingly she fancied him right back. The pair started courting, but never really got out of the honeymoon period before Catherine caught the eye of the biggest (well, fattest) shark in the pond, Henry VIII.

Henry had just removed the head of wife number 5 and was on the prowl, when he met Catherine. She was rich, favoured the reformation and not a child like Katherine Howard, his bride before – so that was it,  and anything between Catherine and Tom was put on hold because yet again, the King needed a wife.

Henry’s marriage to Catherine was possibly his most stable. The pair seemed to enjoy each other’s company, and Catherine was popular as Queen, both with Henry’s children and his subjects. All seemed good.

Henry died in January of 1547, leaving Catherine with the title of dowager Queen and the protection of the young Princess Elizabeth in her care. Catherine and Tom were now free to start shit up again, and they didn’t fuck about. Within a few months the pair were married.

“Wait, this all seems very lovely and romantic, what’s your problem?!” I hear you say. Well, before you go thinking Tom is some sort of Tudor Patrick Swayze, who waltzes in and take Catherine out of her metaphoric corner, let me lay some truths down on you.

Firstly, Thomas Seymour was already trying to find himself a royal match, even before he got back with Catherine. His nephew, Edward VI, was after all now King, so things could work in his favour. He asked the Princess Elizabeth, but she called him out as a nonce and told him to get to fuck. He allegedly also asked her sister, Mary Tudor, she shat laughing at the suggestion and called him a ‘ridiculous cunt sack’ (ok, she probably didn’t… but she should have).

Secondly, he had been bribing the King’s guards to chat all kinds of lies to the young boy, encouraging them to push him towards Thomas, and away from Edward Seymour; Thomas’ brother, and the young King’s Lord Protector. These goons must’ve gave quite the sales pitch, because the young boy was easily manipulated by his Uncle.

When it became apparent that Thomas was getting nowhere with the royal princesses, he went straight to Catherine. Let’s not forget that Thomas was smokin’ hot, despite being a massive jizz-stain on the royal court. Catherine agreed, and snapped him up before Henry’s rotten corpse had time to cool.

The pair kept their marriage a secret for a while, creeping about like a pair of adolescent nightmares, pretending to be mourning by day, and getting their shag on by night. Catherine would ask her guards to ‘accidentally leave the gate open’ at night so Thomas could slip in, (forgive the pun).

Thomas had now gained such influence over the young King Edward that he went to talk him into marrying the dowager Queen Catherine. Surprisingly, Edward agreed, and wrote to his step mum to inform her. Catherine, made up, acted all surprised and coy, and selflessly agreed to the young King’s idea. The sly bastards.

The pair seemed to genuinely love each other, so you could almost forgive his initial ambition… However, within a year of their marriage, Thomas was full-on kiddie-fiddling the 14 year old Princess Elizabeth, whilst his pregnant wife sat and stressed about the whole thing.

Eventually in order to protect her step-daughter, and more than likely her own reputation too, Catherine sent Elizabeth from her household. The really wank thing is that Catherine and Elizabeth had been exceptionally close, and because of Thomas Seymour, this was the last they saw of each other as Catherine died in childbirth in 1548.

Thomas went off the rails like a full on mentalist, and in 1549 was executed on grounds of treason by his nephew, King Edward VI. Their daughter, Mary Seymour, was sent to live away, eventually falling into historical obscurity.

You can read more about Thomas Seymour, (and what happened to his nephew’s dog) Here

So, this whole saga starts back in 1547, with Henry VIII’s death, and the possible tampering of his will. Henry had an inkling that he was on his way out, which made him shit himself because his whole life had been about producing male heirs to succeed him to the throne, and despite shagging anything and everything that had a minge, his rancid, syphilis-filled, dick-hole had only manged to spaff out one legitimate boy, Prince Edward,  and even he was only nine at the time of the King’s death.

 

 

Now, Henry was a lot of things, but stupid he was not. He knew that upon his death, the nobles would all seek to make power plays for the boy King, trying to monopolise him for their own advancement, and not actually giving a fuck about the crown or realm, so he decided to take action and get it jotted down in his Will before it was too late.

Henry decided that he would name, in his Will, 16 members of a privy council that would govern and advise his son, until he came of age to rule alone. He selected a mixture of conservative Catholics and new reformists, people he had trusted all his life, and people who would guide the new King in the ways of the new reformist faith. Each man would have equal say, and that way nobody would be in full control. That was the idea anyway, but it didn’t go anything like that.

Now here is where it gets a little weird. Edward Seymour, Henry’s old brother-in-law and Prince Edwards uncle, wasn’t named in Henry’s Will as a member of the Privy Council; he was originally appointed as an assistant to one of the councillors, but some historians believe that Henry’s Will was tampered with after it was written – it appeared that amendments had been made which  seemingly favoured the reformers, primarily the removal of  Stephen Gardiner, and the Duke of Norfolk, the two most militant Catholics at court, (though to be fair to Henry, the pair were both utter fucktwats who had not long since tried to have Catherine Parr arrested as a heretic, so it’s also quite feasible that Henry did just bin them off).

 

There were other slightly odd things about the Will; the main thing being that Henry never actually signed it himself. Henry was far too important to waste his time actually signing any old crap, like his own Will for instance,  so created a ‘dry stamp’ of his signature so his minions could just sign shit off. He did this with most of his documents in his last few years, and just trusted that the job would be done. The thing with his Will was that the dry stamp was dated weeks after it was made, giving any would be fraudsters a good window of opportunity for things to be added or changed, and let’s be honest if the King is on his way out, and you could stand to profit, why would you not get your heads together and change the future of history to suit you? Especially if you’re a high ranking Tudor noble and naturally predisposed to a being a selfish shitehawk.

Anyway, whether the Will was altered or not, the members of the council all benefited from Henry’s death, making successful grabs for land and wealth until it got stupidly out of control. When they realised they needed to stop fucking about, and actually do their jobs, they decided that they should override the Will and appoint somebody to lead the motley crew of jebends in assisting the boy king in ruling the country. That job then remarkably fell to Edward Seymour.

The theory is that Seymour made deals with the council members, promising wealth and powerful positions that they would not have otherwise had, in order to get their vote, and get their vote he did. The whole council present that day voted to make Edward the Lord Protector of England, ruling for the King until he reached age.

Seymour, who had by now also given himself the title of ‘Duke of Somerset’, had his work cut out for him. Henry had left the country near bankruptcy, with food shortages, increased poverty and crime, a distinct lack of jobs and a constant threat of peasant uprisings…(so not totally unlike Conservative governed England in present day). There was also a constant threat of invasion from France and Scotland, just for a change, and Edward needed to make some cash and quick.

He decided to start by using his new power to scrap the Heresy Act, and throw in some protestant favoured changes such as allowing Latin scriptures to be published in English, incorporating some protty god stuff into the prayer books.

Seymour then decided that there was no real need for chantries, as they were expensive and a bit wank and pointless. The chantries were priests hired to sing for the souls of deceased people, usually their founders. How fucking ridiculous is that?! They were given estates and gold so it made sense to Seymour to get rid, seize their gold and melt it down to make money. Also, so as to make things a bit sweeter for the church, he gave permission for priests to marry, obviously thinking that if their dicks were kept wet they might not whinge about the whole reformation stuff, and therefore keep him in business.

Ok, so far so good; these changes may have had ‘reformist’ written all over them, but surprisingly they didn’t cause too much friction which was good. Seymour hadn’t wanted to rock the boat too much between the two faiths, but had wanted to let the people know that the reformation was still in full swing and going nowhere. The only people who kicked off about it were Gardiner and another staunch influential Catholic called Bonner, but they were both told to cock off and Bonner was soon shipped to the tower.

It was a balancing act alright, but up to now Seymour had been winning. However, whist bridging the gap between the old religion and the new, (even though they were all but the exact same fucking thing), he had taken his eyes off the bigger problem – the divide between the rich and the poor.

Seymour realised that it was pointless to raises funds by raising taxes – you can’t get blood out of a stone after all – so decided the next best option would be to sell more of the church property to nobles and get everyone possible into work in a bid to boost the economy. With that in mind he created ‘The Vagrancy Act’. This was to be about the most stupid thing he did. The Vagrancy Act was yet another one of Seymour’s new proclamations which stated that any able-bodied man who had been out of work for three days or more, would be sold into slavery for 2 years, and branded with a ‘V’. Not a popular proclamation as you can imagine. It caused mayhem and the authorities and peasants began to lose faith in their new boss, which in turn made the Privy Council start to think twice about Seymour’s competency.

Seymour made 77 proclamations in his short time as Lord Protector, on average this worked out as more per year than Henry had made. Some of them were so inflammatory that he had to write new ones to compensate for his previous ones. He did rash stuff like tax people on sheep ownership, causing landowners to build fences and hedges on their common ground to keep their sheep in, in turn causing villagers to burn the fences because IT WAS FUCKING COMMON GROUND. The wedge between rich and poor was widening and widening, and the government seemed to be pissing petrol onto an already rampant fire.

Tensions were starting to bubble, and some authorities refused to enforce the act. To counter any possible uprisings from subject, Seymour then decided to ban football and mass public gatherings, (Tudor football to be fair was a mass public gathering, with whole villages playing and more people dying football-related deaths than sword related ones, so I imagine in Seymour’s defence, that there was always scope for it to all kick off… forgive the pun). Anybody found guilty of ‘unlawful assembly’ would be shipped off to the Navy to clean shit up on deck. Again, not a popular decision, and now tensions were going through the roof.

Unsurprisingly, the poor were going batshit mental about the new Lord Protectors proclamations, because let’s face it, they were a fucking car crash of ideas all shitting out of one man’s brain who wasn’t even supposed to be in charge in the first place. It really didn’t take long before rebellion broke out in Devon, Cornwall and East Anglia, and there was fuck all Seymour could do. He had spent what bit of gold he had managed to collect on defending the county from Scotland and France, well, more saving face and trying to show that now the mighty ‘Henry’ was dead, that he was no pushover.

In Norfolk, the rebellion was running a real risk of becoming something serious. A man called Robert Kett had gathered forces 16000 strong, and was about to lay some serious smack down on Seymour’s plans. Kett had a list of demands that the people wanted enforced in order to establish a fairer society, and eventually Seymour had to put his hands in his pockets, dig deep and fork out for reinforcements to go to Norfolk to quash the rebellion. This cost the treasury dearly as they had to hire German mercenaries to accompany what little of an army they had. After three days of fighting, 3000 deaths and 50 hangings, (which was actually a very low figure because Seymour didn’t want to look like a complete cuntsack), Kett was arrested and the rebellion fell apart. Seymour also had to send out gold to local councils to supress the smaller uprisings.

 

The Privy Council decided that enough was enough and The Lord Protector had to go, and with that a unanimous vote was cast and Seymour was out. But like a complete tit, in a last ditch attempt to protect himself, Seymour seized the King himself, and fled to the fortified Windsor Castle, asking the people of London to protect him from the mean men who were chasing him. That shit didn’t fly, and on 14^th October, 1549, Edward Seymour was taken to the tower, where he confessed to all charges and was stripped by act of parliament of his position of Lord Protector, a post which then conveniently fell to a complete cockweasle called John Dudley who had coincidentally been instrumental in Seymour’s downfall.

On 10^th April, 1550, Edward Seymour was allowed back to parliament, though not as Lord Protector, that was now John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland’s post, and Dudley was beginning to think that Seymour wanted his old job back – which to be fair, he did. There are two things to know about John Dudley: 1) he was a complete bastard who sought after power and influence and didn’t give a shit who he hurt to get it, and 2) he was really good at it. So the long and short of it was that an incompetent bloke like Edward Seymour stood no chance.

 

 

 

On 16^th October 1551, Dudley had Seymour arrested on partly fabricated charges, claiming that Seymour had been overheard plotting to invite Dudley and his cronies to a banquet and having them killed either there or on their way there. Prior to this, Dudley had been doing some ground work too; brown nosing the 14 year old egocentric King by pretending to be full of the faith of reformation, (as Edward VI was), and treating him like an equal rather than a King in waiting. Edward VI’s was totally won over by Dudley’s manipulation of him.

Seymour was executed at the hand of his nephew, the King, on 22nd January 1552, but to what extent Edward VI was maneuvered into signing his Uncles execution warrant is unclear. The execution document had additions made to it after the time of signing, but this time by the young King’s own hand, and the only other dude who could agree the sentence was the chancellor, and one had been newly appointed by Dudley that day. Maybe Edward VI was encouraged to change the warrant, maybe not, who knows?

 

 

At his execution crowds rushed forward to soak up his blood in handkerchiefs and rags, believing that Seymour was innocent of any charge and a victim of foul play. He might have pissed the people off as Lord Protector, but they didn’t want to see him dead.

I’m not sure if Seymour was such a bad bloke, I think he was just more one of those men that tries to do what’s best but cannot help but fuck it up by making rash and stupid decisions, and pretending to know what he’s doing but not actually having a fucking clue. One thing we can say for sure is that he was certainly incompetent and greedy, but then most of the men of the chamber were led by their own selfish desires, so he wasn’t really any different in that respect.

The following year, the King himself was dead too, which was probably for the best because he was a psychotic gobshite too, evenmore so than his Dad. What of Lord Dudley? Well he got his just deserts, but that’s another story which you can read here.

On an interesting side note, Edward Seymour had two siblings: Jane (Henry’s fave wife), and Thomas. The fact that Jane did herself a favour and died before Henry got bored of her was the reason the two brothers were in favour with the crown. Thomas was another fucking mentalist, and Edwards’s main rival to the position of Lord Protector, which is a fucking amazing story in itself. You can get on that here.

 

It’s International Women’s Day, and to celebrate I planned on writing a Tudorial about  one of my fave ladies from the Tudor period, Moll Cutpurse. To be honest she was more a Jacobean badass than a Tudor one, but she was born at the end of Elizabeth’s reign, and it’s my page, so that’s that.

 

 

Moll was not a Tudor queen or a courtier, and she wasn’t a member of the gentry or nobility. She didn’t have a fancy house or posh clothes, and didn’t hold a title. She was an ordinary paupers child, turned pickpocket, highway woman, pimp and total legend.

She was born in London around 1583 to parents who doted on her; her dad made shoes and her mum was a housewife, teaching Moll sewing and other boring woman’s work of the day. However, despite the loving family, Moll grew up mean. She became such a pain in the arse, beating up boys and gobbing off, that she was sent to live in the newly colonised Newfoundland in an attempt to straighten her out.

That shit simply didn’t fly with Moll, who escaped and just took herself off home again. It is said that she jumped off the ship and swam back to shore, but I think that’s doubtful as most people could not swim at that point. Anyhow, that was the real birth of Moll Cutpurse.

Moll’s real name was Mary Frith, but she was known as Moll Cutpurse because she spent her days hanging out around St. Paul’s, cutting the money pouches off peoples pants and liberating the contents. She also had a stint of robbing on the road, a bit of a ‘Highway Woman’, if you like. This ended when she picked the wrong punter and was caught after shooting him, (not fatally), and his horses (super fatally), after he refused to hand over his cash. Shooting him made him change his mind about objecting to Mills request of his gold, and Moll rose off with a small fortune, but was eventually apprehended and sent to Newgate which scarred her forever, both literally and metaphorically.

After Newgate, Moll re-established herself as a pimp and a dealer of stolen goods. She not only found the odd mistress here and there for dirty old men, but did a roaring trade in supplying randy old rich women with strapping young men, in order to ‘blow the cobwebs away’ shall we say?!

I love Moll Cutpurse; she gave ZERO fucks. Constantly slated for not acting like a lady, she thought ‘fuck it, if I’m not a lady I must be a man’ and so dressed as a man, smoked a pipe and reaped all the privileges that women of the time were deprived of.

She was obviously arrested for this, as it was seen as inappropriate and perverse to dress as a member of the opposite sex at the time, but that didn’t stop Moll. Of course, like anybody who does not  conform to societies norm, she was persecuted by the people.  She was called ‘ugly’ and  rumours spread that she was a hermaphrodite because no dress suited her – but let’s be sensible about this, history writes its characters as it wants them to be remembered. She dressed as a man so therefore she was ugly… It’s insane to think how little we have moved on in 500 years. I like to think that she was too hot to handle, and her beauty intimidated the men of the time by giving them ‘confusing feelings’ about their sexuality, and that’s why she was shamed.

Moll died of dropsy, which we now call Oedema, in 1659. She deserves to be the celebrated lady on my page today because although her life may not have been on the straight and narrow, she was a strong woman who faced the adversity of the time with her middle finger in the air. Nobody fucked with Moll!

 

 

If you would like to read a bit more about Moll (or indeed any other amazing ladies of the East-end), you might like to visit the East-End Women’s Museum page, HERE…

…or, for a more detailed account, get onto the exclassics page, found HERE!

1536 was a pretty busy year for Henry VIII, though its events were disasters he brought about himself because he was naturally a bit of a wanker, they all had a significant impact on Henry’s life. They changed the way he acted, the way the people saw him and the nervous constitution of both his subjects and his privy council. It was in this year that Henry lost yet another child, and had two wives die and married his third.  I personally believe that this year marked the end of the young, handsome, athletic king, and the start of the fat, cantankerous old shite-meister that everybody was so afraid of.

 

One of the most significant events of 1536, and indeed Henry’s life, happened on 24th January when Henry was thrown from his horse in a jousting accident that would change his life. Henry’s first wife, Katherine of Aragon, had passed away a couple of weeks previously, and despite celebrating this event with his now pregnant wife Anne, their relationship was starting to crack.

The story goes like this: Henry, clad in magnificent amour, was jousting at a tournament at Greenwich palace when his opponent delivered such a fierce blow that Henry was flung from his horse and lay unconscious for two hours. Anne Boleyn looked on in horror as she was told to brace herself for the king’s death, an event that is said to cause her to miscarry her baby.

 

It’s not clear whether this was a true account of what happened, we only have 2 contemporary records that outline the events, and neither say who Henry’s opponent was. What is clear however, is that the accident fucked him up royally, (forgive the pun), and that Anne did indeed miscarry their son and heir.

The miscarriage itself makes an interesting story as it coincidentally happened on the day of Katherine of Aragon’s funeral…the people, and possibly Henry, must’ve seen it as a sign. Though I’m not sure that I believe that Anne being told the king might die was the trigger of the miscarriage; predicting the king’s death was considered treason, and if the king’s physiologist wouldn’t even do this as Henry drew his last breath was Anne really told to prepare herself for the news?! I think this part of the story was brought about by Anne’s supporters as reason for the miscarriage, because it was becoming increasingly obvious that Henry was getting pissed off with her, and they knew losing a baby without reason would be her undoing.

Back to the Joust. Henry, being the self-obsessed turd factory that he was, was so eager to take part that nobody, not his wife or the council, could talk him down. He had jousted as a boy, when he was the ‘spare’ not the ‘heir’, and loved it. It’s also possibly because nobody would dare to win him so he always came out as the victor, thus, in his mind at least, reinforcing his image of him being a powerful king. This accident must have been horrifically embarrassing for him; not only had he been publicly battered but now he would never joust again. He was 44, and it was all downhill from there on in.

 

In May of the same year, Henry had Anne put to death and went on to marry his third wife Jane. Meanwhile his leg became more and more ulcerated, causing him pain and discomfort. As time went on and the leg festered, it became puss filled and needed constant draining. It would’ve stank like shit and disabled him greatly. This would’ve lead to Henry’s weight gain, irritability and deteriorating health, and when you throw in the mix Henry’s fucking terrible life choices and the prospect of possible brain damage caused by the accident, as some historians believe, there is little wonder why he was such a cunt in his later years.