Wednesday, 22 August 2012

What was it like to be a child in Tudor times ?



Today we value our children's early years as a time of innocence and important formative experiences. A huge market exists for furniture, clothing and toys specifically designed with our small people in mind and increasingly, their needs dictate the family's routines and choices. But this was not always the case. The concept of childhood, as a separate, sentimental and idealised period of development, is a relatively modern invention. Whilst now, children have rights and laws to protect them from harsh working hours and promote their health, safety and education, the survival of young people in the past was less certain and they were expected to adapt and conform to adult expectations more early.

In the Tudor period, average life expectancy was shorter and the likelihood of premature death by disease, infection or accident, place childhood mortality within a predictable framework. Yet, understanding of childcare differed greatly. Think of the modern home with its stairgates and safety plugs, with all sharp or dangerous objects removed and locks on the cupboard doors. When we read that Tudor babies spent the first year of their lives tightly swaddled in their cots, it seems contrary to our beliefs in their developing needs and the process of learning to walk. However, the unsupervised toddler, ranging free about the Tudor home with its uneven surfaces, open fires and boiling pans, was far safer when restricted to its bed. Court records are full of poor infants meeting with accidents when they ventured out of doors and windows, or toddled off down the street and fell in ditches. A heart-breaking amount of cases seem to have been readily preventable if a child had been supervised in the way they would be today. This isn't to suggest the average Tudor mother was negligent- and I do say mother rather than parents, as fathers were not directly involved in the care of small children. Then, mothers seemed to have different ideas and priorities and perhaps, fewer options. One upsetting tale recounts a baby left swaddled in a cot, all alone whilst the mother went out. On her return, she found it had been fatally injured by a scavenging wild pig that had entered the house !

Discipline was also far more severe for small children in Tudor times. Physical chastisement, which today would be considered abusive, was par for the course. In fact, most manuals recommended such treatment in order to train the offspring and act as a deterrent. Whilst today we understand that a baby's cries are its attempts to communicate with us or that a toddler may have a tantrum because it is frustrated, such behaviour was readily met with blows. Nor did these just come from the parents themselves; neighbours, apprentices and even strangers stepped in to discipline a child for what seem like very minor misdemeanours or even misunderstandings. This didn't create a sense of communal parenting; rather it taught the Tudor child that it had to be wary of everyone and learn to toe the line. No doubt there were many affectionate, loving parents but physical discipline was seen within that context and perpetuated through society; a mother would beat her child just as a husband would beat his wife or a master would beat his servant. It was an action that re-enforced social status and appears to have been a daily occurrence. Cases only appear in the courts when people went too far, as they often appear to have done.

The Tudors did recognised different developmental stages in their children. Whilst they were not exactly seen as small adults, it was understood that there were certain tasks they could not perform and certain rites of passage through which they must pass. Seven was a key early stage. Until then, boys were very much in the care of their mothers, dressed and treated the same as girls. From their seventh birthday onwards, their masculinity was asserted, their clothing changed and they entered male company more frequently. Poorer children were expected to work at this age: recent archaeological excavations show the effects of hard labour on the bones of children this young. The next stage was around twelve, when girls could be considered of marriageable age, rising to fourteen for boys. Some aristocratic matches were arranged well before this, in the children's infancy, after which they might be brought up in the household of their betrothed. Royalty were united young: Richard of York was married at the age of four in 1478 to a five-year-old heiress, Anne de Mowbray. Sometimes these matches did not work out but often, the pair were considered capable of consummating the union by their mid-teens, such as with Prince Arthur and Catherine of Aragon in 1501. Fourteen was also the traditional age for apprenticeships and service to begin. Boys and girls could be bound to a master and learn a trade for the next seven years, being sent away from home and working long hours, sometimes for little food or recompense. They had to follow strict rules of conduct or face dismissal and punishment. The bands of unruly apprentices that caused havoc on London streets must have been exploting their only outlet of freedom; small wonder these groups of repressed adolescents frequently turned to violence and mischief on feast days. The May Day riots of 1517 saw a few thousand young men causing mayhem in the streets under the excuse of xenophobia; many were captured but later pardoned by Catherine of Aragon.

Education was uneven across Tudor society. The wealthiest could afford their own private tutors. Henry VIII was taught by some of the leading thinkers of his day, such as poets Bernard Andre and John Skelton. Grammar schools did exist to instruct the sons of the middle classes in the basics, such as the one Shakespeare attended in Stratford-upon-Avon but there was no universal curriculum. Discipline was again harsh, classes large and experiences determined by the interest and character of the school master. Girls learned at home, from their mothers, who prepared them for their future lives as wives and mothers. A medieval poem "How the Goodwife taught her daughter" focuses on desireable behaviour and morals, such as modesty, charity and religion. Even Princess Mary was raised with these expectations, although she was then the heir to the throne. Other manuals, such as the fifteenth century "Babees' Book" and the poem "Urbanitantis", focused on table manners and a child's interactions with others; they were to speak sensibly when spoken to and otherwise remain silent. As the sixteenth century progressed, more noble women were taught to read, to enable them to run their own households. The survival of letters, diaries, poems and recipe books show how this skill was becoming increasingly valued. Later, when religious changes meant that people were encouraged to read the Bible themselves in English, more impetus existed for the teaching of literacy. The most prominent women set the example; Elizabeth I, Jane Grey and the daughters of Thomas More all received impressive educations and by the end of Elizabeth's reign, many more women were reading, writing and composing: the "Blue-stocking" had already been born.

Noble children's lives were strictly regimented. Aristocratic women did not breastfeed but sent out their babies to wet-nurses for the first year. Raised by strangers and frequently succumbing to illness or neglect, the survivors were sent home to a family they did not know. The diary of John Dee records the different nurses his children were sent to in the 1580s and the payments made for this service, of money, candles and soap. Children often lived in mini-establishments within their parents' own properties, with a household comprising nurses and carers, mixing with their relatives infrequently. This doesn't mean they were any less loved or appreciated but they did interact with their parents less frequently; affection must have developed between them in different ways. The old historical misnomer that Tudor parents did not love their children is disproved by the poems of loss that survive, for example, Ben Jonson's sonnet on the loss of his son. Children must have had a number of primary carers and formed attachments to those they saw frequently. Some must have retained affection for these figures all their lives, such as Henry VIII and his nurse, Elizabeth Denton and Elizabeth and Kat Ashley. Parents saw their roles as overseers of careful regimes, where bedtimes, meals, lessons and education were dictated for others to carry out. A diet containing meat was considered important for growth but milk was not safe to drink after midday; instead, children were served "small" beer. These experiences depended upon social status. Less time was allowed for "play" as we understand it today. The three-year-old Prince Arthur had a punishing regime of academic lessons in 1489, with only a brief window before bedtime to enjoy his favourite games and pet dogs.

The lives of children in Tudor times were often brutal and filled with experiences that would horrify the modern parent. Although they were recognised as different from adults, their needs appear to have been considered secondary and their education and training geared towards conformity. The early years were filled with potential dangers of illness, accident and violence although the decisions that may seem to us today to be misguided, actually represented the best efforts of Tudor parents. Much has changed in psychology and pedagogy since then.

Sunday, 3 June 2012

forthcoming book jacket

In Bed with the Tudors....



I am delighted to be able to share the cover of my book, "In Bed with the Tudors: the sex lives of a dynasty from Elizabeth of York to Elizabeth I." Due out 28 July.

Wednesday, 2 May 2012

More recipes from the Tudor receipt book...

                                  medieval woman collecting sage,  a common ingredient


These remedies come from an unpublished manuscript in the possession of my family, containing cures and cooking instructions. Many aristocratic families developed their own collections over generations, literacy allowing, but the majority of such receipts (recipes) stayed firmly in the oral tradition for centuries. Although levels of female literacy advanced significantly with the onset of the Reformed faith in the sixteenth century, writing was still largely a male preserve, hence the social class and rarity of those surviving manuals. Many cures address common ailments while the recipes would be more for the lady of the house than her illiterate cook- as such, many are for jellies, jams and other luxuries made in the stillroom not the kitchen. In this MS, some are described as "probatum," meaning they have been tried and tested and found to work. For the modern reader, their ingredients and methods sound bizarre although there may well have been a placebo effect or real comfort from those herbs included which still form the basis of some modern alternative medicines. However, I suggest you don't try these at home !!



                                                        To take away warts:
Purslane (parsley) rubbed on warts pulleth them upp by the Roots. Also if they be anoynted with the juice of Figgs itt will doe the same.


                                                    For the Megrime (migrane ?):
Take iii handfulls of redd rose flowers fresh in summer and in winter velked asmuch of vervanie, breake them smale with your hands and boyle them with a pottle of white Gasconie wine if it may be had or else in Rochell Wine till itt come to a quarte, then putt them in 3 baggs brosed flatte like a paister and lay itt where the Ache is, so hotte as the sicke may suffer and chaunge the hotte and hott a day and anight and longer if need require.


                                                          To make lypsalve:
Take a quantity of newe butter unsalted, melt it by ittself and scomme of the froth clene as it riseth, then take a quantity of waxe and melt itt allso and scomme it cleane, then put them together with a little Rosewater and as need shall require use itt after it is cold at your pleasure.

     
                                                            For the Meazells:
Take half a pinte of Alle, a little English saffron, putt thereto a crust of Bread hole and seeth them together, so give itt to the patient to drinke warme at iii sundry times and putt thereto a sponefull of Treacle of geyne mingled like and at night to bedward a Rosted Figge.

           
                      For the Bytinge of a madd dogge if it be taken within ix dayes:
Take a Lylly roote, double dazyes, Isope (hyssop), Rosemary, Sage and Sage Ambrose which is a wild sage, stampe alltogether, putt thereto a sponefull of Aquavity and Treacle, so drinke them with Ale or mylke.


                                                    To make past(ry) for Tarts:
First take fine flower, Yolks of eggs, sweete butter and sweete creame, put all these to your flower and so make paste and so raise your paste for all manner of tartes.

      
                                                To make dry conserve of Quinces:
Take your Quinces, pare them and coare them then putt them in an Earthen pott, stewe in the Imbers with wine then take out  and straine them and boyle them in coales, season them with suger and make it, then cast suger one your mould and so put it in and close it and so sett it on the Oven till it be dry.


All spelling and punctuation remains true to the MS !

Sunday, 1 April 2012

"In Bed With the Tudors"

Women bathing, from a fifteenth century Italian Manuscript. How regularly you bathed depended on your social class but many mixed, public baths sprung up on the Southbank. Their association with prostitution soon brought them into disrepute and they were frequently closed during outbreaks of plague and other diseases. Henry VIII finally closed them down in the 1540s.

Now you can also like my facebook page "In Bed With the Tudors"- updates about the forthcoming book and little juicy snippets of  intimate Tudor life.

Monday, 19 March 2012

"In Bed With the Tudors."

     My new book, due out in July-




"In Bed With the Tudors: The Sex Lives of a Dynasty, from Elizabeth of York to Elizabeth I ."
Amy Licence, Amberley Publishing, 28 July 2012.
Available to pre-order on Amazon now.
What was it like to bear the child of a Tudor king? How did Queens cope under pressure, knowing the future of the realm rested on their shoulders ? What comforts did they find in religion and birthing customs, in an era predating pain relief ? What steps did midwives take, to ease a prince or princess into the world ? And what about the "average" Tudor woman, if such a thing existed ? How did she prepare for her lying-in and what chance of survival did she and her child face ? Then there are the numerous disenfranchised; the peddlar delivering her child in a barn and the serving girl seduced by her master. How did society deal with them once their child provided the living proof that they had transgressed the strict social boundaries of the time?
When it came to parenthood, the Tudor monarchs were unlucky. Maternal and infant mortality were high. Henry VIII's wives were beset by a range of gynaecological problems that contemporary medicine and religion were powerless to unravel, no matter how many remedies and cures they tried. From powdered ant's eggs, to the skin of a wild ass tied to their thighs, labouring women were at the mercy of fate and poor hygiene. Giving birth was a life or death experience and survival was cause for celebration. This book details the experiences of Queens, royal mistresses and ordinary women of all classes, from fertility, conception and pregnancy through to the delivery chamber, lying-in, baptism and churching.  Set against the backdrop of immense cultural and religious change, the story of reproduction between 1485 and 1603 is also a story of the Reformation and sudden banning of centuries-old customs that had been relied upon by women in the birthroom for generations. The importance of pilgrimage and the monastic establishment in the reproductive process has never before been explored, yet their dissolution had a huge impact on the lives of millions of women. Some conformed, some resisted. Giving birth was also a critical part of the Tudor gender dynamic and frequently polarised the sexes; feminine exclusivity and oral traditions were set against the misogyny and suspicion that overdetermined the culture of the times. Literally and metaphorically, the doors were closed upon the men.
Predictably, marital status was all important to the Tudors. This did not mean it was not an honour to bear the King's bastard but it guaranteed little. The circumstances of conception and birth differed greatly depending upon a child’s legitimacy, as did the expectations of its mother. Explored in this book are the implications of both experiences, as well as the roles of midwives and gossips, the limits of Tudor medicine and the implications for the dynasty of infertility, incompatibility, adultery and the elective abstinence that led to the decline of the royal line. After the birth of Edward in 1537, no Prince was born on English soil until Charles II in 1630. Mary I's infertility and Elizabeth's notorious virginity kept the nation guessing for half a century. How did other women deal with a failure to conceive ? Some prayed, whilst others employed sympathetic magic or  bizarre folkloric rituals. The business of producing an heir was never straightforward; each woman’s story is a blend of specific personal circumstances, set against their historical moment: for some the joys were brief, for others, it was a question that ultimately determined their fates. In a society that prescribed a few, limited female roles, the failure to fulfil her maternal obligations was the making or breaking of Tudor women.
Were their experiences significantly different to those of mothers today ? Yes and no. This book explains why.


Tuesday, 6 March 2012

Medieval Memento Mori Tomb

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Just wanted to share this wonderful fifteenth century manuscript illustration depicting a rich lady atop her tomb with her decaying bones beneath.

Fewer posts going up at the moment as the deadline for my book approaches- be back soon !

Tuesday, 14 February 2012

A very short history of 500 years in the garden.


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German Garden, 1410.

Gardens and domestic outdoor spaces have always been a feature of our lives. Most Tudor homes had a garden of some sort, or else some land attached, even in the middle of a city like London. Their use was heavily dependent upon class, either to supplement the table and produce essential medicinal herbs or as arenas to display luxury and status. Native fruit and vegetables in season could make a huge difference to a lower-class family's diet and the cultivation and use of herbs, a remnant of the medieval monastic tradition, came from a rich oral tradition of home cures for every eventuality. Many were functional living spaces too, used for all manner of domestic work, including washing and drying, although fields outside the city walls were also emplyed in this way. Palace gardens were resplendent with statues and ornaments; the garden at Whitehall contained gilded heraldic beasts whilst at Kenilworth, the gardens became the famous stage for Elizabeth I's visit, remodelled with fountains, lake and island. There was little concept of garden design outside upperclass circles, with outdoor spaces being maximised for their productive abilites, as well as the exercise of man and beast. However, small knot gardens, full of scented herbs and plants were made along intricate lines and not beyond the reach of the middle classes. Their symmetrical designs, redolent of early Persian gardens, are the most archetypal of Tudor garden survivals.. 

A knot garden, recreated at the Garden Museum, Lambeth.


Seventeenth century gentlemen, returning from the grand European tour, brought back an appreciation of dramatic natural geographic features. "Sublime" mountains and Alpine-style lakes became all the rage. Mock Graeco-Roman ruins were imported into English landscapes, crumbling away among parks like that at Windsor. Completely new follies were built and artifically aged. Formal gardens betrayed Dutch and Italian influences too, balancing areas of symmetry and order with areas of wilderness to express the sublime power of the natural world. Specific areas were tamed into avenues, topiary creations, terraces and waterworks, whilst others, often distant were left to grow wild as described in Austen's Mansfield Park. Contained within the garden's confines, her jumbled-up pairs of lovers manage to contain their lusts but the temptation of entering the wildeness through the locked gate proves their undoing. Blenheim, Hampton Court and Versailles all demonstrate this balance between the careful, man-tamed environment and the wilderness beyond. It was to give an illusion of connection between the two, whilst allowing a degree of protection, that the sunken ditch known as the ha-ha came into use as a boundary. The garden became a playground, spurting jets of water among statues and using straight lines to create outdoor rooms. Poems by Andrew Marvell contrast the wild world inhabited by the mower with the formal yet playful environment of the great house. The abundance of flowers, fruit and vegetables he mentions are typical of the new methods of gardening, where exotic plants from the new world were grafted and unseasonably forced in large greenhouses and new colours blended and created. For the wealthy, it was an era of orangeries and tulips.


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Badminton Morris House, Gloucestershire, with its deliberately "undesigned" park design.


The natural look became increasingly prevalent in the Eighteenth and early Nineteenth centuries, with vast parks being swept clean of unsightly features like villages; wavy lines, trees and grass growing freely with grazing sheep echoed an aristcratic preoccupation of the European bucolic ideal, such as epitomised in the novels of Anne Radcliffe, paintings of Claude Lorrain and romantics like Samuel Palmer and Caspar David Friedrich. Capability Brown worked on over 170 gardens in England during this time, advocating a "gardenless" form of gardening; his works survive at Coombe Park, Warwick Castle and Bowood House among others. Again, class was significant. Outdoor spaces became increasingly public and the vast parks of cities like London, Paris and Vienna became the locations for Sunday family promenades as well as political rallies.The old eighteenth century pleasure gardens, with something of an unsavoury reputation, as in Thackeray's Vanity Fair gave way to the more genteel tea gardens depicted by the Post-Impressionsts. Huge market gardens produced fresh fruit and flowers which the spread of railways allowed to grace city dining tables of the rich. With more produce becoming available, gardens became increasingly about relaxation and the achievement of a casual, meadow-style look. Native plants were sown with apparent abandon, to create the impression of self-seeding in what was actually careful planning, by cottage-garden designers such as Gertrude Jekyll. Her romantic, pretty planting with its subtle colours and blowsy borders was developed by other early twentieth century enthusiasts like Vita Sackville-West. The romance and escape of gardens was popularised by the 1909 best selling "Elizabeth and her German Garden" and its sequels, by Elizabeth von Arnim.

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Gertrude Jekyll border at Manor House, Upton Grey, Hampshire

The Twentieth century saw garden design becoming increasingly architectural. Unusual features and play between the natural and man-made are popular again, as any visit to Hampton Court Flower show will demonstrate. Large panels of synthetic materials in bright colours sit along side rustic-style modern follies, whilst a wealth of innovative planting allows for exciting contrast and variety in texture, scent and colour. Features like decking, patios and planting boxes allow even small gardens to maxmise their space, providing an extra room in over-crowded urban areas. The popularity of conservatories has seen them change from the overwhelmingly green waxy-leaved hot houses of the Victorian upper classes, with their heavy furniture, to lighter, open spaces that combine the best of indoor and out. Cheap garden fittings, furniture, plants and barbeques encourage us to get outside as much as possible, whilst TV makeover and DIY programmes give cheap inspiration regarding the transformation of our backyards. In a complete reversal from their use by our grandparents, to house Anderson shelters and dig for victory, gardens have become our arenas for experimentation and self-expression. In the modern garden, anything goes.

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Electric car on display at the 2009 Hampton Court Flower Show