Being a Conscious Reader, the Consciousness and Hamlet

The term ‘consciousness’ is used to describe a person’s perception or awareness of something else, and as an English literature student, exploring the conscious mind of a character is how one truly gets to know them. By exploring their innermost fears, desires and loves, the true nature of a character’s personality can be revealed. The writer provides the consciousness of the character, and then the conscious reader will have to be susceptible enough to make good use of it. It is also important as a reader to be conscious of symbols and motifs in novels, so that we can understand the text in full. These motifs and symbols could be anything from colours to Biblical references.

The conscious reader would be able to recognise Thomas Hardy’s use of colour in his 1891 novel ‘Tess of the D’Urbervilles,’ as the title character’s frequent association with the colours of red and white is clearly a reference to her dual personality as whore and chaste virgin. Red represents sexuality, and white represents purity. The conscious reader would develop this further, perhaps in reference to Freud’s ‘Madonna-whore complex,’ a dichotomy that explores the two personas that a woman could conform to. For more on that, follow the footnote![1]

For example, in Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel ‘Frankenstein,’ the Monster refers to himself as Adam. The conscious student will recognise that this is a reference to the first man placed on Earth, Adam, placing Frankenstein as God the creator, and the Monster as his first human creation. This analysis aids our understanding of the story as a whole, and the mentality of the Monster as he considers himself to be the first and only member of his own kind in existence.

The above two examples demonstrate the importance of being a conscious reader, and what a conscious reader will be able to find when interrogating a text. The above example of Frankenstein can be used to bridge the gap between the conscious reader and the consciousness of a character. Shelley provides an insight into the consciousness of the Monster by allowing him to refer to himself as Adam, and the conscious reader will then pick this up, explore it and end up with a better understanding of the Monster. Still following?

Another text that utilises the idea of consciousness in order to allow the audience to understand the characters involved more fully, is Shakespeare’s iconic tragedy ‘Hamlet.’ Hamlet’s own psyche and consciousness is explored through his seven soliloquies; seven speeches that the character delivers when he is alone on stage, explaining his inner thoughts, feelings and struggles. These seven speeches revolving around the consciousness of Hamlet provide plenty of material for the conscious reader to scrutinise.

Hamlet is set on a revenge mission to kill his uncle king Claudius, who had previously murdered Hamlet’s father and former king. Shakespeare draws inspiration from traditional revenge tragedies in the writing of the play, but also uses Hamlet’s own consciousness to break such conventions.

In traditional Greek tragedy, the act of revenge would occur quickly within the narrative, thus prompting the end of the play. Hamlet deliberates for five acts, and keeps the audience updated on the goings on within his mind via his seven soliloquies. This allows the play to develop on the traditional idea of Greek tragedy and address bigger questions.

The play itself is not just about the act of revenge but is more about the inner workings of Hamlet’s mind. His famous declaration of ‘to be or not to be’ is proof of this, as Hamlet explains to the audience that he is contemplating suicide. Without such insights into the characters mind, our understanding of the play would be greatly affected. Shakespeare utilises the idea, and literary technique, of ‘consciousness’ within the play to offer a tragedy that is of greater psychological complexity than the tragedies that have gone before.

Shakespeare is given this merit through the deployment of the seven soliloquies, and insight into the consciousness of Hamlet. Through the addition of these seven speeches, Shakespeare ensures that the audience can fully understand the character of Hamlet and his inner turmoil, thus reinventing the idea of a Greek tragedy. This is a clever move from Shakespeare, as the technique he deploys is one that gives the play greater depth.

‘Hamlet’ is widely praised for its complexity, and Shakespeare’s active interest into the conscious mind of his characters explains why. Hamlet is conscious of the fact that he has been asked to commit murder, and that he cannot carry this out without sufficient evidence. It is this struggle that he disseminates to the audience via his soliloquies.

Hamlet’s reputation as a great philosopher, and his tendency to contemplate the larger questions in life, stem from his soliloquies, which stemmed from Shakespeare’s desire to create a revenge tragedy that explored and interrogated the consciousness of its characters.

Thanks for reading!

Stay safe, stay inside. Read something cheerful.


Aurangzeb: Dispelling Myths about Religious Intolerance

Emperor Aurangzeb is frequently viewed as a discriminatory figure, unlike his great grandfather Emperor Akbar, who is celebrated for his religious policy of tolerance. However, if we look past this, it becomes clear that Aurangzeb’s main concern was the maintenance of the empire, and not religion. What people view as Aurangzeb’s botched and discriminatory religious policy really isn’t one at all, as instead of a religious policy Aurangzeb was trying to maintain a larger policy of empire.

Bhimsen, a Hindu Kayastha memoirist, claimed that Aurangzeb had willingly sacrificed the ‘happiness of the subjects’ during his reign, suggesting that Aurangzeb had thrown out with his great grandfather’s policies of religious tolerance.[1] Another example of this is Aurangzeb’s banning of religious festivals eight years into his reign, such as Eid al-Fitr, Holi and Diwali.[2] On the surface this appears to display Aurangzeb’s religious intolerance, in comparison to Akbar, who welcomed different cultures and religious ideas. Aurangzeb also reinstated the Jizya tax, a tax specifically levied against non-Muslims within the empire in 1679, which further fuelled the image that he was a discriminatory, nasty piece of work.[3] Aurangzeb’s decision to tear down several Hindu temples also painted him in a religiously intolerant, in contrast to Akbar.[4] However, upon closer analysis we can actually see that Aurangzeb’s actions were not religiously motivated, unlike Akbar’s, but politically motivated for the maintenance of the empire. The maintenance and strengthening of the empire were Aurangzeb’s primary concerns, even if this resulted in accusations that he wasn’t prepared to give other religions the time of day.

At first it may appear that the restrictions Aurangzeb placed on religious festivals displayed his religious intolerance, but this isn’t true! In his writings, Bhimsen Saxena describes a festival that occurred every twelve years near Trimbak, Maharasthra, in which armed bands fight one another, which lead to fatalities.[5] Frenchman Jan de Thevenot describes the Muharram celebrations in his work, writing that in Golconda in 1666 to 1667, violence was standard between Muslims and Hindus.[6] At the Murharram celebrations of Burhanpur in 1669, fifty people were left dead.[7] Aurangzeb wasn’t happy about this, and was also disturbed by the use of ‘obscene language’ used during the festivals of Holi and Diwali.[8] Unlike nowadays, it appears that back in the day, festivals were violent and unruly events, which often ended in death. Based on these facts, Aurangzeb’s decision to ban such gatherings should not be linked to some sort of religious policy, but linked to his desire to maintain order and stability within his empire. In this situation Audrey Truschke notes that Aurangzeb’s key concern was ‘public safety,’ not religion.[9] Aurangzeb adopted the idea that pleasing everyone was not essential to the running of a successful empire. His banning of such festivities was not related to some sort of religious policy, but related to his desire to preserve the empire, and prioritise the safety of those within it. Makes sense, right?

Aurangzeb’s reinstallation of the Jizya tax in 1679 was also not religiously motivated but was motivated by his larger policy of empire instead. Satish Chandra recognises this, arguing that the reinstallation of the tax was in response to the current economic crisis.[10] The tax was reinstalled to fund money for the maintenance of the empire, not to discriminate against non-Muslims. The tax also provided much needed work and employment to those within the empire, and admin posts were given to Hindus.[11] The fact that Aurangzeb provided work for Hindus further supports the idea that he was not religiously intolerant towards them, but more concerned about the state of the economy within the empire and not the religion of those within it. See, he’s not that bad really!

Aurangzeb is also known for destroying several Hindu temples across the empire. Richard Eaton notes that Aurangzeb only destroyed just over a dozen temples, and that he did order the construction of some.[12] Aurangzeb only destroyed temples for valid reasons, such as Benares’ Vishwanatha Temple in 1669, and Mathura’s Keshava Deva Temple in 1670.[13] Both temples acted as bases for political unrest within the Mughal empire, which prompted Aurangzeb to take action. His destruction of the above temples was not religiously motivated but motivated by his desire to ensure peace within the empire. The Keshava Deva temple was patronised by Dara Shukoh, Aurangzeb’s brother and main rival to the throne, and after several uprisings in 1669 and 1670, Aurangzeb destroyed the temple to put down the political unrest that it had encouraged.[14] Aurangzeb believed a good ruler was one that ensured expansion of the empire, and he did so by putting down political unrest.[15] Again, this decision was not motivated by some sort of religious policy, but a larger policy of empire.

Aurangzeb even said that he was not massively concerned with the religion of others, drumming home the fact that he was more concerned with his empire. A Muslim from Bukhara who had entered Mughal service in the late 1680s argued that the emperor should take the religion of people into account before they were allowed to enter into Mughal service. Aurangzeb rejected this proposal, asking ‘what connection have earthly affairs with religion?’ This clearly shows his disregard towards the subject of religion, in favour of the subject of empire.[16] He also noted that ‘for you is your religion and for me is mine.’[17] Aurangzeb was willing to recruit people of all faiths into Mughal service, demonstrating yet again that all his decisions revolved around the maintenance of the empire. It also shows that Aurangzeb was not intolerant towards people of other faiths as people have incorrectly stated. In the first twenty one years of Aurangzeb’s reign, twenty one percent of the Mughal nobles were of the Hindu faith.[18] This is only one percent off from the amount of Hindu Mughal nobles in Akbar’s reign, which disapproves the common perception that Aurangzeb discriminated against non-Muslims.[19]

So here we can see that Aurangzeb shouldn’t be criticised for what some perceive to call his “religious policy.” I hope I’ve proved that, despite common misconceptions, all of Aurangzeb’s actions, as described above, were undertaken for the maintenance of the empire, his number one priority.

Thanks for reading!

Stay safe, stay inside. Read something cheerful.

[1] B. Metcalf and Metcalf, A Concise History of Modern India, p.30.

[2] Truschke, Aurangzeb: The Life and Legacy of India’s Most Controversial King, p. 74.

[3] Ibid., p. 376.

[4] S. Chandra, ‘The Religious Policy of Aurangzeb during the Later Part of his Reign – Some Considerations’, Indian Historical Review, Vol. 47, 1-2 (1986-7), p. 373.

[5] Truschke, Aurangzeb: The Life and Legacy of India’s Most Controversial King, p. 74.

[6] Ibid., p. 74.

[7] Ibid., p. 74.

[8] Ibid., p. 74.

[9] Ibid., p. 74.

[10] Chandra, ‘The Religious Policy of Aurangzeb during the Later Part of his Reign – Some Considerations’, p. 380.

[11] Ibid., p. 376.

[12] Truschke, Aurangzeb: The Life and Legacy of India’s Most Controversial King, p. 84.

[13] Dale, ‘India under Mughal rule’, p. 85.

[14] Ibid., p. 86.

[15] Asher and Talbot, India Before Europe, p. 228.

[16] Truschke, Aurangzeb: The Life and Legacy of India’s Most Controversial King, p. 58.

[17] Ibid., 58

[18] Ibid., 56

[19] Ibid., 56

Covid-19 and Dystopian Literature

Now, as a student of both English and History, I’m not surprised that both topics have the ability to predict the future. We are living in unprecedented times, and probably facing the biggest crisis most of us will face in our lifetimes. The first thing I thought of, when I watched Boris enforce a quarantine, was that what was occurring in the world was like something I have read in a book. Those books are usually part of the Dystopia family, a genre that explores what will happen to the world, and humanity in the far future following some sort of apocalyptic event… in other words, it looks at a world where everything has gone to BLEEP.

A simple definition of the genre is the opposite of utopia, an idea outlined by Thomas More in his work, ‘Utopia,’ written in 1516. If utopia is the perfect world, dystopia is the direct opposite. There are different types of dystopia, and the genre evolves in response to different crises at the time, much like the one we currently find ourselves in. We get ‘Farenheit 451’ following Hitler’s abominable book burnings, ‘The Day of the Triffids’ follows fears about communism and the oncoming Cold War in the 1950s, and so on… People have also picked up on the fact that Dean Koontz’s ‘Eyes of Darkness,’ written in 1981, predicted the rapid spread of a virus originating from Wuhan in 2020. Now is the time to take literature seriously. This may not be the most cheerful subject in these times but prepare yourself for a whistle-stop tour of the Dystopian genre!

George Orwell’s ‘1984,’ published in 1949, has been in our minds for some decades now, due to rises in technology and its ability to become more invasive… and humanity’s ability to be lazy. Conspiracy theories about Alexa’s secret government connections hark back to Orwell’s “telescreens,” and even Facebook showing me ads for things I’ve mentioned in conversation contributes to the idea that we are always being watched by ‘Big Brother’… and I don’t mean Davina McCall’s smash hit on Channel 5… even though the title of the show is lifted from Orwell’s own mind. The idea of being controlled and constantly watched sits firmly with the idea of Totalitarian Dystopia, a world in which we have no control, and where the concept of freedom is a distant memory.

Aldous Huxley followed up Orwell’s harsh world in 1932 with his softer dystopia ‘Brave New World,’ in which people are willingly controlled by a drug named “soma,” distracting characters like Mustapha Mond and Lenina Crowne from tension, worry and pain. They really don’t like the idea of talking about their problems, and instead dose up on drugs to suppress their inner pain. Sound familiar? The UK had hit a major economic depression in the year prior to the novel’s publication, perhaps explaining Huxley’s exploration of the conflicting interests of the individual and society, propelled by the growing widespread fear of Americanisation. In a novel that puts together drugs, Shakespeare, suicides and orgies, in retrospect it seems to have predicted the birth of contraception and the free love that swept the world in the 60s, and still does today.

Anthony Burgess cranks up the violence in his 1962 work, ‘A Clockwork Orange.’ The novel follows Alex and his “droogs,” gang, as they go around pillaging, rioting, stealing and generally just acting like a bunch of BLEEPs. Like dystopian novels before his, Burgess responded to the current context and situation, more specifically, the mass delinquency that followed the Second World War. Young men found themselves with little to do, and at the time, hippies and skinheads were blamed for encouraging violence in the post war period. Burgess tapped into that, and within the novel explored how said teens can be controlled, using the fictional “Ludovico’s technique,” which is effectively a barbaric procedure to reduce people to brainless bags of meat. I did say this wasn’t going to be cheerful. Burgess raises the question as to whether it is ok to treat anyone in this way, regardless of their crimes and behaviour.

‘The Handmaid’s Tale’ enters the world with a bang in 1985, coming from the mind of Canadian writer Margaret Atwood. The novel really is the big one if you want to look at sex and gender in dystopia. Atwood appears to have responded to the current form of feminism, which we retrospectively dub as Second Wave feminism. This focused on the woman’s role in the home, and how actions are specifically gendered. It also asserted that the patriarchy originated in the home, due to the dominant father figure, and that this ideology was imprinted on the children, which they then carried on, and into the world outside. Those who have read the novel will know that it centres on women’s ability to bear children, which is primarily a domestic issue. In response to Donald Trump’s authoritarian presidency Atwood rolled out a sequel, ‘The Testaments’ in 2019. This was probably one of the first incidences in which a dystopian novel had a female protagonist, an idea that really takes flight in the 21st century.

I’m going to briefly touch on Malorie Blackman’s 2001 novel ‘Noughts and Crosses,’ which has just aired on the BBC. I haven’t read it myself, but it’s an example of how the Dystopian genre can adapt to anything, as it describes a futuristic world in which racial segregation is enforced in favour of the African upper-class. It’s noteworthy for this, as well as its inclusion of a female co-protagonist in Sephy Hadley. Give it seven years and Suzanne Collins will give us female fighter Katniss Everdeen in ‘The Hunger Games.’

Cormac McCarthy’s 2006 depression fest ‘The Road’ responds to our current economic crisis, as the constant use of the word “grey” really drills home the fact that the Earth is dying. A man and boy, who remain nameless as, what’s the point in identification and attachment now, trek through America to safety, hiding from fearful landscapes and human cannibals along the way… whilst having an existential crisis. It examines the human condition following an apocalyptic event, looking at starvation and malnutrition… loo roll is the least of these peoples’ worries. As if my Year 13 wasn’t stressful enough.

This is really a small selection of novels birthed from the genre… I would do more, but I don’t want to depress anyone further.

So really, the point of this post has been to show people that artists are influenced by what they say and what goes on in their times. The only thing left for us to wonder is, what novels, poems or plays will we get that have drawn inspiration from the 2019-2020 Coronavirus pandemic?

Stay safe, stay inside. Read something cheerful.

Thanks for reading!

O! O! O! Othello’s Oddly Onnoying Onderdevelopment

Some criticisms of Othello

Now, I like Othello. Shakespeare brings the issue of race into his plays, and really paints a stunning portrait of a pure marriage that is slowly poisoned. Despite that being at the heart of the play, I found that a lot of other aspects of it are slightly underdeveloped… and even slightly annoying.

Let’s start with the main man. Being Shakespeare’s first explicit, in my view, black character, Othello earns himself an immediate reputation. He does have some great lines, and a tragic story, but apart from that, he is fairly passive. He is extremely gullible and is basically Iago’s plaything. Othello is really led by him and is led to the conclusion that Desdemona is being unfaithful. In this respect, Othello doesn’t have much agency, he doesn’t think for himself and he basically does what he’s told. In comparison to other Shakespeare protagonists, from Richard III to Hamlet, Othello oddly doesn’t do much, and appears slightly underdeveloped. We know he tells a killer story, but for a title character, who has the play named after him, he doesn’t really have the same presence and impact that Hamlet does. Othello is mainly known for being jealous, and although it is an interesting take on the emotion, it isn’t the greatest thing to be known for. Is there a particular reason that Shakespeare’s biggest black character is known for being a jealous wife killer? Is Shakespeare trying to make some sort of racist comment? That we will never know, but we can speculate.

Othello pretty much ends up playing second fiddle to the far more superior Iago, who is probably Shakespeare’s nastiest villain out there. But… that’s all there is to it really. He’s just a downright villain, slightly like Don John in ‘Much Ado About Nothing.’ He is interesting to read, but he’s just nasty, that’s it. I wouldn’t say he’s a three-dimensional character like Claudius from ‘Hamlet.’ His motivation is significantly underdeveloped, as he has a throwaway comment that he has a problem with Othello as he slept with his Mrs, Emilia. Iago’s actions are drastic, especially as they are based on a rumour. Coleridge swoops in to note this, declaring that the whole plot is based on ‘motiveless malignity.’ Coleridge is basically saying that Iago’s nastiness comes out of nowhere. When comparing Iago’s motives to the likes of Claudius, Richard III and Lady Macbeth, I’d back Coleridge any day. Also, Iago’s just very obsessed with sex. His motives are sex related, his plan to destroy Othello is based on Desdemona’s supposed sexual promiscuity. It’s all sex with Iago. He’s just a nasty sex obsessed man. And he also steals the show from Othello in Othello’s own play. That’s just rude.

Now I know women in Shakespeare don’t always have the easiest time, and apart from her sweet nature, Desdemona too is quite passive. She doesn’t even get a famous scene or line apart from her death scene. Lady Macbeth and Ophelia have some iconic lines and scenes, as does Beatrice, Juliet and the Nurse. Desdemona is just extremely kind, which although is endearing, it doesn’t make her that memorable. Her love for Othello is undoubtedly pure, as she loves him because of the stories he tells. Iago sours this due to his obsession with sex, and specifically Desdemona’s sex drive. Although she fights with her father and tries to reason with Othello, I can’t help but feel that she doesn’t stand out that much in comparison to Shakespeare’s other heroines.

Also, there’s that massive war that’s mentioned at the beginning, that the Turks are going to attack Cyprus, which is promptly dispensed with. It’s basically there to make Othello look like a hero, but apart from that, it just appears like a throwaway plot point. The Turks are destroyed by a storm, rendering them shipwrecked and very irrelevant. In Hamlet, the war is mentioned throughout, and comes full circle at the end of the play with the arrival and succession of Fortinbras, who serves as a foil to Hamlet and represents the rise of a stable kingdom. Fortinbras does all of this and only pops up twice in the play. I think that’s pretty good going. Iago’s hatred for Othello comes so out of nowhere that he probably could’ve tried to poison their marriage without any war with the Turks. It’s just that random.

The unsung hero of the play is by far Emilia, who fully dispenses with the patriarchy, her husband and all the passiveness that Shakespeare heroines are regularly accused of. I find her scene at the close of the play to be much more memorable than Desdemona and Othello’s dialogue. She becomes that strong female character that so many Shakespeare fans crave, despite her untimely death. Despite Iago’s underdeveloped motivations, to me, him and Emilia are much more memorable characters in the play, partly because they are both active agents who have pivotal roles within the plot.

In general, Othello is a great play on the surface, and there’s plenty of ‘marriage poisoned’ action to sink your teeth into. But when interrogating the characters, motivations and some of the plot points, it appears to slightly fall apart. Othello and Desdemona are supplanted as the most memorable characters by Iago and Emilia, the war with the Turks doesn’t really come to much, and if I were Othello, I’d be more jealous of characters like Hamlet and Claudius, who gain their iconic Shakespeare status for much more complex and intriguing reasons.

Thanks for reading!

Fact in Fiction: Anne Boleyn in ‘Wolf Hall’

An analysis of Anne Boleyn’s portrayal in Hilary Mantel’s acclaimed novel, ‘Wolf Hall’!

Anne Boleyn is a central character in the book ‘Wolf Hall,’ by Hilary Mantel. Thomas Cromwell’s rise to power centred on the annulment of Henry VIII’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon, as Cromwell was proactive in speeding up the divorce, and ensuring the ‘Dissolution of the Monasteries’ throughout 1536. This gained him great favour with the King. Ultimately, without Anne Boleyn, Cromwell would not have risen to power and as the novel is largely told from his point of view, a different take on Anne Boleyn is created, which is a wholly negative one. Throughout the book she is presented largely as a villainess, and as a schemer intent on tearing the kingdom away from Christendom and becoming queen, much to the despair of those at court. It’s definitely one for the Catherine of Aragon fans.

In a conversation with George Cavendish, a biographer of Thomas Wolsey, Cromwell discusses Anne’s betrothal and previous relationship with Harry Percy.[1] Cavendish proceeds to tell Cromwell that she did not actually love him. Cromwell asks whether she respected him, and Cavendish flatly tells Cromwell that “she didn’t. She liked his title.” These short, dramatic sentences suggest that Anne was only interested in Harry Percy for his status, as she wanted to elevate herself in the world. It presents her as a liar and villainess, as she pretends to love somebody to gain power and status. This also casts her as a bit of a femme fatale. The fact that other people react negatively to her also proves she is villainous, as there are not many people in the novel who show affection to Anne, such as her own sister, Mary.

Later on in the novel, Mary makes similar comments about her sister, warning Cromwell that Anne probably “has some ideas about what to make you.”[2] This cryptic comment portrays Anne as villainous, as beforehand Mary tells Cromwell that Harry Percy has been turned into a “madman” by Anne.[3] Although this is a negative portrayal of Anne, the comment about Cromwell does not insinuate any positive or negative feeling towards him, but as the comment about Harry Percy is made earlier, this quote is made to make Anne villainous, as again, she is using others for her own advantage. Anne’s villainy is emphasised as it is her own sister that informs Cromwell of her belief. As she is related to Anne it is surprising that Mary thinks so badly of her sister and this rejection reinforces Anne’s villainy in the novel.

It is clear that there is rivalry within the novel between Anne and Cromwell, probably because the book is written from Cromwell’s point of view.[4] Mantel notes that nowadays, Anne Boleyn is an “ambiguous character,” as little is known about her. This serves as the reason as to why Anne is portrayed how she is, as she is viewed through the eyes of her adversary, Cromwell.[5] From this we can learn that Anne is presented as a villainess due to Cromwell’s biased view, and therefore may be a victim to Cromwell’s own agenda and ulterior motives. As Mantel aimed to tell the story from Cromwell’s viewpoint, it would be in her interests to make him appear as a hero and as a likeable character, therefore making Anne Boleyn appear as a villainous character, although in history, it is usually Cromwell who is depicted this way. Hilary Mantel comments that she feels Cromwell sees Anne as a worthy opponent, believing that one must be destroyed before the other.[6]

In a conversation with Thomas Wyatt, Cromwell describes Anne to be a “calculating being.”[7] This gives the impression that Cromwell believes Anne uses others for her own purposes, and the use of the word ‘being’ insinuates that he does not view Anne as a human with emotion, but as an entity intent on destroying and using others. Anne really is taking hit after hit here… and it gets worse.

Cromwell believes Anne to have “hungry black eyes.”[8] This imagery presents Anne as animalistic, implying that she will feast on anything or anyone. As food is needed for one’s energy, Anne can be compared to a bear who uses people, food, for her own elevation, energy. This imagery presents Anne largely as a parasite, one who is willing to ruthlessly use others for her own gain. This gives the impression that Anne’s desires are evil and dangerous, as she is willing to use others for her own ends, and metaphorically, devour them.

According to contemporary accounts, Anne Boleyn did have black eyes in reality. Paintings that date back to the 1500’s of Anne also support this description, like the above image headlining this article. We can see from the painting Anne is accurately described in Wolf Hall, as in reality she had dark eyes and hair. It is clear from this image that all fictional portrays of Anne have been largely based on this painting and others like it, and one could possibly infer that Anne’s portrayal in Wolf Hall could be as accurate in personality as she is in the painting.

Cromwell later proceeds to tell Wyatt that he believes Anne likes to “torment” others for her own sport.[9] This presents Anne purely as villainous, as it is suggested she enjoys being cruel to others for her own amusement and pleasure. This seems odd to the reader, and makes Anne seem like a sadistic human being who enjoys other peoples’ pain, presenting her largely as a villain.

Later in the book Mary talks to Rochford about her sister, saying that for “Seven years she schemed to be queen.”[10] The fact that Anne has planned this for seven years shows she is desperate for power and provides a reason as to why she is seen as calculating, as she has one ultimate goal, making her seem villainous.

However, Anne could be seen as a victim of Thomas Cromwell, as the book is written purely from his point of view. Anne could be seen in this way, because he feels threatened by her, knowing that her power is growing. It could be argued that he fears she will overthrow him, and hates her, presenting her as a villainous and horrible person, in order to persuade others to agree and rise against her.

It would seem that Anne is largely portrayed as a villain in Wolf Hall, and a figure who uses others for her own advantage. By constantly commenting on her scheming ways and using animalistic imagery, Mantel, through Cromwell, portrays Anne Boleyn as a villain to a large extent. It is worth noting that Mantel’s Anne is not infuenced by the times we now live in, but solely on the idea of Cromwell’s protagonism, prompting Mantel to think that Cromwell would have viewed Anne Boleyn as a significant threat.

Thanks for reading!

[1] Hilary Mantel, Wolf Hall (London, 4th Estate Books, 2009) p. 78.

[2] Mantel, Wolf Hall, p. 346.

[3] Ibid., p. 346.

[4] Available at:

[5] Available at:

[6] Available at:

[7] Mantel, Wolf Hall, p. 350.

[8] Ibid., p. 350.

[9] Ibid., p. 350.

[10] Ibid., p. 598.

Defending Estella from ‘Great Expectations’

A case for one of Dickens’ frostiest characters.

To match with the chilly weather that we are getting this January I thought I’d write about one of the iciest characters out there, Estella from Charles Dickens’ ‘Great Expectations.’ Her reputation precedes her, and I for one can’t understand Pip’s infatuation with her… or people’s hatred of her. Yes, she is coarse, and haughty and horrible to Pip but by the end of the novel, in my opinion, she becomes the most rounded character still around, whose journey has had actual meaning and impact. I got so bored of all the other characters that Estella was the only reason I could keep reading, and here’s why.

Estella’s initial behaviour towards Pip throws a narrative hook to the audience, as for quite some time we are asking ourselves why she is such an annoying little thing. Her behaviour is enthralling to Pip, and his motivation to become a gentleman stems from his, slightly annoying, obsession with her. Without her, there really is no story, as although she isn’t the physical money, she is the reason as to why Pip wants, and uses the money. It also presents, what the audience think will be, the greatest love story ever. It would probably send Shakespeare spinning in his grave, crying that his ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ had been nicked by Dickens. She’s also the cause of Pip becoming an unlikeable character, as a lot of the time, he considers what Estella would do, or what she would think, prompting his disapproval towards other characters like the boringly kind Joe. She may not influence every single character, but she influences the most important – Pip. That’s enough to cement her importance in the novel and Dickens canon, no matter how many people dislike her.

So, upon her introduction, Estella throws out certain signals to the reader and the characters. She propels the story forward as she gives Pip the motivation to become a gentleman, and wills the reader to stick with her, in the hope that she becomes a bit nicer, and in the hope that her and Pip run off into the sunset together. I am making the assumption now that everyone wants Pip and Estella to get together, and I think from the offset people just assume that it is going to happen… what makes her such a great character, and in my opinion the best in the novel, is that of course, this doesn’t happen. But more on that later.

Estella’s character development builds throughout the novel but isn’t stretched out enough to deter us from being interested. It becomes clear that, as Pip is the plaything of Estella, Estella is the plaything of Miss Havisham. Personally, I wouldn’t like the idea of living with a jilted psycho lady who should be in one of those McDonald’s ‘like getting your money’s worth?’ adverts… as she’s always in her wedding dress. In her later life she plucks up the courage to tell Havisham that she is the cause of her coldness, and the reason she cannot love. Estella has been conditioned this way, and has been forced to dispel one of humanities’ greatest instincts – to love and to be loved. She’s really a tragic heroine. We see that here:

“You stock and stone!” exclaimed Miss Havisham. “You cold, cold heart!”

“What?” said Estella, preserving her attitude of indifference as she leaned against the great chimney-piece and only moving her eyes; “do you reproach me for being cold? You?”

“Are you not?” was the fierce retort.

“You should know,” said Estella. “I am what you have made me. Take all the praise, take all the blame; take all the success, take all the failure; in short, take me.”[1]

Some critics think that we never truly get to know Estella, but she never really knows herself. A whole part of her, her ability to love, and be loved, is shut down by Havisham very early on in her life, and in Victorian society, there isn’t much else for a woman to do. Nobody can control someone else’s ability to love, we choose who we love and we ourselves are aware of it. Estella has this taken away from her, probably before she could even walk. For a character who has a whole part of her identity taken away from her before she understands it, I argue that we get to know Estella pretty well, and that she oozes with tragic complexity. Havisham has literally stolen Estella’s ability to love, and Estella is rightly mad about it. It’s here that we understand her, as she isn’t cruel to Pip as she is cruel herself but is cruel to him because she knows no different. She doesn’t have the capacity to be kind, and we can see that it greatly upsets her.

Estella also provides a real ‘EastEnders’ ‘duff duff’ moment, with the revelation that she is the daughter of Magwitch. The character provides a great dramatic revelation, one that drums home the main theme of the novel, subverted expectations. The haughtiest character in the novel is brought down to Earth by her paternity, which levels all the characters. No one is fully pure, no one’s status is fully preserved, there is social mobility and every character represents this in some respect. Estella’s ‘fall from grace’ is particularly notable, as she goes from one extreme to the other. She goes from being the most uppity little missy out there, to being the daughter of the lowest of the low. Dickens knows how to pack a punch.

Her abusive marriage to Bentley Drummle brings her to the end of her character arc, and this abuse, unfortunately, is what she needs. She has been moulded by Miss Havisham, and her suffering at Drummle’s hands breaks this mould. She now can start afresh, as she has had an emotional, traumatic experience that she can reflect on, and learn from. This experience makes her more vulnerable, and probably more empathetic. It is unclear what this abuse specifically is, but it obviously adds a dimension to what she has already suffered at Havisham’s hands, meaning this has shaken her up that bit more. Be it physical or verbal, it serves as proof that someone so brainwashed needs a significant experience to be roused from such a state, and clearly marriage to Mr Drummle is enough to compel Estella to change. In comparison, majority of the other characters just fade away, or conveniently die.

It’s so right that Pip and Estella don’t end up together, as if they did, her character development would have been hurried along in a fairly unnatural fashion. Estella isn’t ready to love after her marriage to Drummle, and it makes sense that Dickens left the ending ambiguous. We don’t know whether they get together, and it would be nice for them to in the future, but it wouldn’t make sense for Estella to be with Pip at the end of the novel. She is still discovering herself and how to love, and Dickens made the right in decision not to rush this huge development in the last few pages.

In comparison, Pip pretty much lands back at square one, having squandered all of his money. Sure, he learns things, but there’s not a lot of implication that he will grow, learn and develop. Estella will, and its right that this happens off the page, as she is now free from the grasp of Miss Havisham, and the grasp of Dickens’ pen.

[1] Charles Dickens, Great Expectations, (London, Penguin Clothbound Classics, 2008), Chapter 38.

The Gothic in ‘A Christmas Carol’

Searching for the Gothic in Dickens’ Christmas classic!

‘A Christmas Carol’ is a classic Christmas story, as it encompasses all that should be at the heart of Christmas. Love, joy, family… and a prize turkey that can feed the five thousand. It also gives us the lesson that people can change and that sometimes they should, in a quick hit of one hundred and seventeen pages… depending on your edition.

This happiness however doesn’t come about on its own, and is only really facilitated by Scrooge’s conversion, which in turn is only facilitated by the appearance of the three Ghosts… four if you count Marley.

If we want to find the Gothic in the novel, we should start with Dickens’ finest creation. Scrooge! He kind of fits into the archetypal Gothic patriarch mould, a figure that is tyrannical, uncompromising and relentless. We get this from Manfred, in ‘The Castle of Otranto,’ and the Marquis in ‘A Sicilian Romance.’ He squeezes all the money he can out of everyone he can, he seeks to control Bob Cratchit, refusing to let him put more coal on the fire, and is unforgiving towards the plight of all the poor and needy, thinking they should pop their clogs to ‘decrease the surplus population.’[1] What a nice man.

Trying not to be rude to the man but let’s be real here – he is bloody scary looking:

“The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice.”[2]

There is an obvious harshness to his appearance, with the ‘pointed’ nose, and his ‘grating’ voice. ‘Grating’ brings up ideas of ‘scratching’ and ‘grinding,’ and you don’t really want to hear those kinds of tones at Christmas. He really he sounds like a dead man walking, especially as his lips are turning ‘blue.’ Fun fact, having blue lips is called cyanosis, which is induced by extremely cold temperatures or a lack of oxygen in the blood. A lack of oxygen would definitely result in death. His appearance perhaps doesn’t resemble the classic Gothic patriarchs I listed above, but his appearance is terrifying, and considering the Gothic is supposed to be antithetical to the civilised, Enlightened world, we can definitely place the haggard character in that category.

The Ghosts fit in well with this too, especially Marley’s and the Ghost of Christmas Future. It is the ‘otherness’ of the Ghosts that make them Gothic, as well as their ability to transcend the physical world and laws of nature.

With Marley especially there is the conflict between the living and the dead, and the physical and the ethereal. Dickens immediately messes with our minds, saying the ‘Marley was dead: to begin with.’[3] As a reader we are all screaming that once you’re dead, you’re dead – that’s the end, not the beginning. This brings out the supernatural element, establishing it early within the narrative. Marley’s ability to shapeshift is Gothic too, although perhaps not in the classic sense. Traditionally, the shapeshifting of Gothic characters links into their ability to change their character, like Catherine Earnshaw to Catherine Linton in ‘Wuthering Heights.’ Marley physically changes into the doorknocker, which is a fairly potent and distressing image, which showcases his physical shapeshifting abilities.

Marley’s ghost can also link closer to ideas about bodily monstrosity and body horror, as he is quite literally, falling apart. Every director makes a meal of Marley’s runaway jaw. It is a great moment. The presence of his chains is also confusing, as he is not a physical being, yet he is held down by physical chains. It is a Gothic image of confinement and restraint, as his body and mind are confined, he cannot be fully free. The irony of course is that he is constrained by his own heinous crimes. It is a classic trope in the Gothic genre to be refined and constrained, stopping full expression of the soul… again, I reference Catherine Earnshaw and Catherine Linton.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is also a very Gothic image, as there is the element of the unknown and the element of mystery. We literally cannot see who, or what, is there. It is therefore something we cannot understand, which again, ties nicely in with the Gothic genre. It is not a heteronormative being, it’s form cannot be understood by Scrooge, making it appear as a classic example of the ‘other.’ Its main function is to tell Scrooge that he is going to die, and to show him his fate. There is an obvious darkness to this, and the idea that in that moment, Scrooge is doomed. This too is a Gothic element, the foreshadowing idea of death, and the idea that meeting our maker cannot be avoided and is inevitable. Scrooge can put it off by turning into Father Christmas, but he can never truly avoid it.

Away from the physical appearances of the characters, we could even say that the novel is Gothic as it looks at the darker side of humanity. Scrooge is everything that he wouldn’t want someone to be, cruel, pessimistic, tyrannical… I could go on. The Gothic genre frequently looks at humanity and explores their darkest desires, such as Ambrosio’s lust in ‘The Monk.’ Scrooge’s desire perhaps isn’t that seedy, as he purely desires money. However, like Ambrosio, this desire pushes him to do bad things, and alienate all of those around him. Dickens pays attention to Scrooge’s desires that disrupt those around him for the worse, a trope that the Gothic genre frequently employs.

Scrooge really provides an anatomy of the human psyche, as we witness his conversion from miser to merry man. Here he appears to depart from the classic Gothic villains, who don’t get the chance to convert or change… as most of them all die. Again, Scrooge exhibits the Gothic trope of shapeshifting, much like Marley before him, as his character jumps from one end of the spectrum to the other. Proof that with a little help from some Gothic ghouls, everyone can embody the true spirit of Christmas.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Thanks for reading!

[1] Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol (London, Penguin Classics Read Red, 2007) p. 10.

[2] Ibid., p. 2.

[3] Ibid., p. 1.

GUILTY! Henry VIII, Thomas Cromwell and Anne Boleyn: Who was the most responsible figure for Anne’s downfall?

3 iconic figures. 3 historians. A guide to the ending of one of the most dramatic marriages in British history – who was responsible?…

The controversial union of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn in January 1536 led to the break with Rome, and the formation of the Church of England. Their marriage ended with Anne’s execution in May 1536. Historians have disagreed over who was responsible for her demise, and have noted that Anne herself, Henry and Thomas Cromwell were the most important figures in the events that occurred in 1536. When defining the word ‘responsible’ one most consider the people that it is being applied to. If Anne were responsible for her own fall, as Bernard argues, one must take from this that she was guilty of adultery, and therefore deserved to be executed. For Cromwell and Henry, the term ‘responsible’ explains their role in her downfall and subsequent death. David Starkey argues that Henry initiated her demise, making him responsible. As it was Cromwell who crafted the trial of Anne, ensuring that she would not survive the ordeal, he is the most responsible figure for her downfall, as argued by Tracy Borman, making her theories the most convincing.

Borman credibly argues that Thomas Cromwell, who she defines as Anne’s “greatest adversary,”[1] was the most responsible for her sudden demise. Both Anne and Cromwell were reformers, and the religious changes that Cromwell made to England enhanced his power, as First Minister, as well as Anne’s presence within the Church of England, as both could easily influence Henry. To understand Borman’s argument, one must look at the reasons as to why Cromwell may have wanted rid of Anne. Borman’s strong argument rests on the idea that Anne and Cromwell were caught in a bitter power struggle, peaking in early 1536. This idea can be given credence when examining the controversial sermon delivered by John Skip, Anne’s almoner on the 2nd April 1536.[2] Skip spoke of the “evil counsellor” Haman, the greedy enemy of Queen Esther in the New Testament, who persecuted Jews, and placed their riches into the royal treasury.[3] Through her almoner, Anne attempted to expose Cromwell’s avarice to the entire congregation, and paint herself as the heroic Queen Esther, who would save the clergy. The insinuation that Cromwell was the greedy counsellor provides evidence of the conflict between Anne and Cromwell, which had been escalating for several months, therefore making Borman’s ideas highly valuable. Both had previously argued over what the money extorted from the clergy should be used for, with Anne arguing that it should be put to “better use,”[4] meaning education. According to Eustace Chapuys, the Spanish ambassador, Anne even threatened Cromwell saying that she would “like to see his head off his shoulders.”[5] This thought would have only crossed Anne’s mind if Cromwell and herself were caught in conflict with one another. By evidencing that there was a power struggle between the two figures, it is conceivable to think that Cromwell was indeed an enemy of Anne. This provides significant reasons as to why Cromwell was the most responsible for Anne’s downfall, therefore making the opinions of Borman highly valid and credible.

Borman has already established reasons explaining why Cromwell may have plotted Anne’s downfall, and to further support these assertions examines his involvement in the events that followed, cementing her valid theory that Cromwell was the most responsible for Anne’s fall, as he crafted and shaped the events that led to her death, beginning with an altercation he had with Henry. Cromwell proposed an alliance with the pope to Henry, but he refused. This displayed Henry’s loyalty to Anne, who had previously threatened to have him killed. Borman notes that Chapuys believed that Cromwell began plotting the fall of Anne because of his humiliation at the hands of Henry.[6] Cromwell retreated to his house in Stepney, searching for “incontrovertible proof that Anne was a traitor.”[7] This makes Cromwell appear to be the most responsible for Anne’s fall, as he is undertaking the task of planning it, cementing the valuable opinion of Borman. Cromwell writes to Chapuys, stating that he “set himself to devise and conspire the affair”[8] of Anne’s downfall, which, in the light of their political conflict, which is well justified, would benefit Cromwell greatly. This builds on Borman’s convincing assertion that Cromwell was solely responsible for Anne’s fall, due to the conflict between the two. Borman argues that this evidence makes Cromwell the most responsible for Anne’s fall, as he confessed that he planned it. This makes him directly responsible for the events of 1536, as Anne’s imprisonment, trial and execution were of his own design, therefore making Borman’s views highly valuable.

When finding evidence for Cromwell’s involvement in organising Anne’s fall, Borman cites the evidence provided by Mark Smeaton, after his arrest on the 30th April 1536.[9] It is believed that Smeaton, according to contemporary George Constantine, was racked in order to ensure a confession of guilt.[10] Borman uses this to support her credible argument, that Cromwell was the most responsible for Anne’s fall, as he only needed one guilty confession to condemn her, and as the punishment for adultery was death, kill her. The arrest of Will Brereton, on the 4th May 1536,[11] is used by Borman to further support her argument that Cromwell was the most responsible for the fall of Anne. Brereton managed churches in Cheshire and had previously blocked Cromwell’s reforms. Oddly he was not in Anne’s circle, making him an unlikely person to have committed adultery with her.[12] Removing Brereton would further Cromwell’s cause, in getting rid of his rival at court and pushing his religious reforms in the north. Borman uses this evidence to justly support the idea that Cromwell was the sole architect of Anne’s fall, and that he was in complete control, making him the most responsible for it. His control is explained through the forced confession of Smeaton, and his condemning of Will Brereton, who would allow him to tighten his religious grip on the north, if he were got rid of.

Cromwell’s involvement in Anne’s fall, and his wish to destroy her, is also conveyed by his choice of jurors, which sealed Anne’s fate. By placing her enemies, such as Suffolk and Norfolk on the jury, Cromwell ensured that Anne would not escape the trial alive, which suited his political needs.[13] The evidence above, validly argued by Borman asserts the notion that Cromwell was in a power struggle with Anne, and then planned her downfall, making him solely responsible for it. Therefore, Borman’s views can be seen as highly valuable when assessing who was the most responsible for Anne’s fall, as by claiming Cromwell’s guilt, and evidencing Skip’s sermon, one can clearly see why Cromwell would want to be rid of Anne, as they were caught in a power struggle. The letters of Chapuys, and the arrests of Smeaton and Brereton also support the idea that Cromwell was the most responsible for the fall of Anne, as he himself planned her arrest and trial, which he knew would lead to her execution, therefore making the views of Borman highly convincing.

David Starkey disagrees with the views of Borman, arguing that Henry was the most responsible figure for Anne’s fall, as he was responsible for the decisions that led to her investigation and arrest. Starkey writes Henry was the most responsible for Anne’s downfall as it was he who instructed Cromwell to investigate “certain causes of treason”[14] against Anne, and with this signal, Cromwell put together a case that would certainly see Anne fall. Starkey argues that without Henry’s agreement, Cromwell would not have acted, therefore making Henry the most responsible for the fall of Anne, as it was he who gave Cromwell the authority to investigate her. Anne was investigated in the “profoundest secrecy,”[15] and as Cromwell would not have acted without the permission of Henry, Starkey argues that this makes him the most responsible for the fall of his wife. Although this signing of the “commission”[16] can be recognised as Henry making his formal decision to move against Anne, Starkey argues that his decision was made the day before, and can be seen in his behaviour to her brother George. Although Starkey mentions that Henry “vacillated,”[17] he revealed his hostilities towards his wife by announcing that “Sir Nicholas Carew, the Queen’s Chief antagonist, had been elected a Knight of the Garter, in preference to her brother, George, Lord Rochford”[18] on the “23rd April 1536.”[19] From this act it can be inferred that the Boleyn’s were quickly losing favour and status within the Tudor court. Starkey uses this to provide evidence of Henry’s guilt, as the decisions concerning the fate of Anne’s family and herself came from Henry.  Starkey highlights the significance of this event, explaining that “to exclude Rochford was an acute public rebuff.”[20] By citing this action Starkey argues that this shows Anne’s decreasing favour, and Henry’s decision to allow others, like Cromwell, to plot the demise of his wife. As Henry acts as the puppet master, and Cromwell as the puppet in this scenario, Starkey argues that Henry is the most responsible for the demise of Anne, as it was ultimately his decision to launch the investigation against her. In order to understand this further, one must examine Henry’s motives and why he may have wanted rid of his current queen.

An event on the 29th of January could explain Henry’s growing dislike for his wife, giving him cause to authorise her downfall. On the day of Catherine of Aragon’s burial, Anne miscarried of a male child. Chapuys notes that she “miscarried of her saviour,” as this baby would’ve been the son and heir that Henry had craved so desperately for.[21] Historians believe this to be the catalyst of her downfall, and a source of tension between the couple, as Anne herself was blamed for her inability to provide a male heir. Retha M Warnicke notes the growing intensity of the situation upon Nicholas Sanders’[22] revelation that Anne gave birth to a “shapeless mass of flesh.”[23] During this time, such a child insinuated gross sexual adultery on Anne’s part, which harmed Henry’s honour. Henry is frequently portrayed as a patriarchal, dominant figure as he was obsessed with masculinity. Having a wife with a greater sexual appetite than him, as the deformed baby suggested, did not reflect well on him.[24] When discussing whether Henry was responsible for Anne’s fall, it can be argued that this incident would have motivated him to organise an investigation against her. This event put Henry’s reputation at stake, and also Anne’s. Therefore, due to the implications of such a child, one can understand why Henry would show growing dislike towards his wife and her family. This particular event explains why Henry might have been motivated to move against his wife as argued by Starkey.

Anne’s relationship with Henry, according to contemporaries like Chapuys, was a tumultuous one, as the pair were “changeable” and prone to “lovers quarrels,”[25] further explaining why Henry may have wanted rid of his second queen. Anne’s “abrasive”[26] attitude was becoming increasingly “intolerable to her husband,”[27] and provides another reason as to why Henry may have wanted rid of her, upon the entrance of Jane Seymour. Seymour’s character was the opposite to that of Anne’s, and appeared to be much more obedient. When sending Seymour a purse of money and a letter in April 1536, she returned it unopened, stating that there “was no treasure in the world that she valued as much as her honour,”[28] and that she would wait for some “advantageous marriage.”[29] This chaste action drew Henry to Jane Seymour further, and in the light of Anne’s miscarriage, and her overall attitude, one could speculate that Henry wanted rid of Anne so that he could marry Seymour. Anne was well aware of this flirtation, and it would have caused more arguments between herself and her husband. Anne once again used her almoner, John Skip to tell the story of Solomon, who lost “true nobility towards the end of his life by sensual and carnal appetites.”[30] This is read by historians, like Borman, as an attempt by Anne to steer Henry away from Seymour, action no doubt that would’ve caused further tension for the couple. With the increased strain placed on their marriage because of this, as well as Anne’s miscarriage four months previously, one can easily see why Henry would be motivated to plot the downfall of his wife. After a painful ulcer that Henry acquired in a jousting accident in early 1536, he became irascible and intolerant towards Anne’s behaviour, further supporting Starkey’s idea that he was the most responsible for her fall due to this reason.

As Henry was the King of England, one could argue that he was the most responsible for the downfall of his wife. Although it is well documented, by historians such as Starkey, that it was Henry’s decision to move against his wife, it was Cromwell who carried this action out and formed a case against her. He was responsible for the case built against Anne, and although Henry commissioned it, the blame must still lie with Cromwell, as it was he who crafted Anne’s demise ensuring that she would not make it out alive. This makes the view of Borman, that Cromwell was the most responsible for the fall of Anne, the most convincing, and it therefore discredits that of Starkey’s. Starkey notes that Henry favoured Cromwell’s plan, as “the great advantage of this method was that it killed Anne.”[31] This insinuated that the events of Anne’s downfall were not defined by Henry, but by Cromwell, making him directly responsible for her death, as it was he who planned her trial in such a way, ensuring that she would die. This can be seen in Cromwell’s choosing of the jurors. This ensured the fall of Anne, with the permission of the King. This shows that Borman’s theories are more convincing than that of Starkey’s. Although Henry’s role is of great importance, as well as the events leading up to May 1536, it is still the role of Cromwell, and the views of Borman that must be noted as the most important, making him the most responsible figure when looking at the fall of Anne, in comparison to Henry.

GW Bernard argues that Anne herself was the most responsible figure for her fall, a view that it somewhat rare. It must be noted that in Anne’s case, ‘responsible’ would mean that she was guilty as charged. If she were guilty of adultery, and plotting the death of the King, then she would be responsible for her own fall, as she gave the law the opportunity to condemn her, through the fault of her own actions. When discussing whether she was the most responsible for her downfall, one must ask whether she was guilty of adultery, as if she were, the law had just cause for judging and sentencing her to death. GW Bernard argues that Anne was guilty of adultery, making her the most responsible figure for her fall. When examining this theory, one must debate whether Anne was guilty of adultery, whether Smeaton’s confession was genuine and examine the words of Anne Boleyn herself.

Bernard states that Anne was the most responsible for her fall as she was adulterous. Rumours of Anne’s alleged adultery came from her lady in waiting, Lady Worcester. In a conversation with another courtier, about her own promiscuous conduct, Worcester argued that the queen was at “much higher fault”[32] and that she entertained men late at night within her chamber. GW Bernard cites this incident in his case against Anne, stating that as a lady in waiting, she “would have been aware of it, indeed might have been complicit”[33] with any adulterous acts. Bernard therefore gives credibility to the source, leading him to believe that this is enough proof of Anne’s infidelities, making her the most responsible for her fall, as she was guilty of adultery. This would make her absolutely responsible for her downfall, as she was judged fairly by the standards of the time. This accusation would have fitted well with the contemporary perception of Anne. Borman notes that the Treason Act of 1534 said that slandering the royal marriage was treason, implying that belief that Anne was promiscuous was common.[34]

Bernard also cites the confession of Mark Smeaton as sufficient evidence for Anne’s guilt and uses it to explain why Anne was the most responsible figure for her fall. Bernard notes that torture was rarely used in Henry’s England, and that Smeaton never withdrew his confession. Bernard therefore argues that we can only assume that this means Smeaton, and therefore Anne, were guilty of adultery. Bernard does not find enough evidence to exonerate Anne, stating that she probably was “guilty of at least some of the adulteries of which she was accused.”[35] Again, if all historians were to agree with Bernard, they would be condemning Anne in declaring that she was guilty with what she was charged with. On the scaffold at his execution, Smeaton conveniently proclaimed that he “deserved the death.”[36] When discussing why Anne may have been promiscuous, Bernard even goes so far to speculate that she did so in numerous attempts to become pregnant.[37] If one were to use this evidence against Anne, one would question why Smeaton never withdrew his confession. Bernard argues that, as torture was rarely used in Henry’s England, Smeaton confessed his guilt without force, meaning that there must be some truth in it, as well as the allegations made against Anne.

Anne’s own conduct was key to the turn of events, especially her conversation with Henry Norris in April 1536, which made her highly responsible for her own downfall. This conversation was used against her in court, and made her appear guilty of adultery and treason. Anne declared to Norris that he looked “for dead men’s shoes, for if aught came to the king but good, you would look to have me.”[38] Anne is telling Norris that if the King should die, he would look to marry her. Anne was now accused of imagining the death of the King. This accusation of treason also made Anne looked increasingly guilty of adultery, with Henry Norris. Although one cannot provide a definitive answer for Anne’s adultery, this conversation is well documented, and proves that Anne’s own conduct did not aid her case. The Treason Act of 1534 had declared that imagining the death of the King was treason,[39] and although Anne wasn’t planning to murder Henry, her allusion to his passing, was enough for the jury to condemn her, making her the most responsible figure for her downfall as stated by Bernard.

When evaluating Bernard, and proving the credibility of Borman’s theories about Cromwell, one must assess whether Anne was guilty of adultery or not. If she were, this would make her responsible for her own downfall, as she would have been treated fairly by the standards of Tudor England. As it would be her own conduct that led to her downfall, she would be the most responsible figure for it. If one can use Borman’s theories to exonerate her, this maintains that Anne herself was not the most responsible for her fall, but that Cromwell was. Borman’s views on Smeaton have already been explored, as she argues that Cromwell tortured him. In doing this he would procure a confession, as one was all that he needed to ensure Anne’s death, as this was the punishment for adultery. He would ensure her death by accusing her of adultery with Smeaton, and by placing her enemies, Suffolk and Norfolk, on the jury. Borman proves Anne was innocent of adultery by citing the evidence. She points out that Smeaton could not “have had sex with Anne at Greenwich on the 13th of May,”[40] as she was in “Richmond on that day.”[41] This, and other incidences like it prove that Anne was not guilty of adultery, and that she was therefore not responsible for her own fall. Borman convincingly notes, “on at least two of the four dates cited for Anne’s adulterous relations with Brereton, she had not been in the location claimed.”[42] This immediately discredits Bernard’s theories, and gives greater credence to Borman’s stronger theories that it was Cromwell who fabricated the trial that led to Anne Boleyn’s death. The lack of evidence supporting the adultery between Anne Boleyn and William Brereton strengthens Borman’s theory that Cromwell invented it, as Brereton was blocking Cromwell’s religious reforms in the north.

Chapuys also reported that, in her last confession, Anne swore on the “damnation of her soul, that she had never been unfaithful to the King.”[43] In a deeply religious age, it is difficult for one to believe that Anne would have lied right before she was about to die, and allegedly meet God. This leads historians, like Borman to believe that Anne was innocent of the charges. In order to discredit Bernard, his use of speculation must be criticised. There is no substantial evidence to suggest that Anne was guilty of adultery, or that her desperation for an heir would have pushed her to commit adultery. Within his theory, Bernard speculates the two, despite the compelling and convincing evidence that has been put forward by Borman, which affirms Anne’s innocence. This makes Bernard’s claims that she may have been guilty, are puzzling because of this, and appear to be founded in only in speculation. This makes Anne Boleyn the least responsible figure for her fall, unlike Thomas Cromwell who crafted, and accelerated, her downfall and subsequent death. This therefore makes the views of Borman highly valuable.

In conclusion, Thomas Cromwell must be seen as the most responsible figure for the downfall of Anne Boleyn. Although it was Henry who allowed the investigation to occur, it was Cromwell who orchestrated and organised the entire investigation, ensuring that the jury, despite the inconsistent evidence, would find her guilty. Borman has convincingly cited Cromwell’s own words to Chapuys to support this idea, and has also picked up finer details like the abnormal arrest of William Brereton, and the dubious circumstances under which Mark Smeaton’s confession was procured. Borman validly explains that Cromwell undertook this challenge due to the ensuing political conflict between himself and Anne, and in accelerating her downfall; one can see that Cromwell was prioritising his own security. Such a skilful investigation can only be attributed to Thomas Cromwell, and because of this the fall of Anne Boleyn can be seen as his greatest “triumph.”[44]

Thanks for reading!

[1] Borman, T. (2015) Thomas Cromwell: The untold story of Henry VIII’s most faithful servant, UK – 1st edn. Hodder and Stoughton (pg. 230)

[2] Ibid. (pg. 217)

[3] Ibid. (pg. 217)

[4] Starkey, D. (2004) Six Wives: The Queens of Henry VIII, UK – 1st edn. Vintage (pg. 557)

[5] Borman, T. (2015) Thomas Cromwell: The untold story of Henry VIII’s most faithful servant, UK – 1st edn. Hodder and Stoughton (pg. 215)

[6] Ibid (pg. 222)

[7] Ibid (pg. 232)

[8] Lipscomb, S. Betteridge, T. (2013) Henry VIII and the Court: Art, Politics and Performance, UK – 1st edn. Routledge (pg. 289)

[9] Lipscomb, S. (2015), Why did Anne Boleyn have to die?

Available from:

[10] Schofield, S. “Thomas Cromwell and the fall of Anne Boleyn” The History Press

Available from:

[11] Borman, T. (2015) Thomas Cromwell: The untold story of Henry VIII’s most faithful servant, UK – 1st edn. Hodder and Stoughton (pg. 242)

[12] Ibid (pg. 241)

[13] Borman, T. (2015) Thomas Cromwell: The untold story of Henry VIII’s most faithful servant, UK – 1st edn. Hodder and Stoughton (pg. 237)

[14] Starkey, D. (2002) The Reign of Henry VIII: Personalities and Politics, UK – New edn. Vintage (pg. 91)

[15] Ibid (pg. 91)

[16] Ibid (pg. 91)

[17] Ibid (pg. 90)

[18] Ibid (pg. 91)

[19] Ibid (pg. 90)

[20] Ibid (pg. 91)

[21] Borman, T. (2015) Thomas Cromwell: The untold story of Henry VIII’s most faithful servant, UK – 1st edn. Hodder and Stoughton (pg. 213)

[22] M Warnicke, R. (1991) The Rise and Fall of Anne Boleyn, UK – 1st edn. Cambridge University Press (pg. 246)

[23] Lipscomb, S. (2015), Why did Anne Boleyn have to die?

Available from:

Accessed 20/07/17

[24] ‘Henry and Anne: The Lover’s who changed history’ – Channel 5 – Last accessed – 22/07/17 ep2

[25] Lipscomb, S. (2015), Why did Anne Boleyn have to die?

Available from: 

Accessed 20/07/17

[26] Lipscomb, S. (2015), Why did Anne Boleyn have to die?

Available from: 

Accessed 20/07/17

[27] Lipscomb, S. (2015), Why did Anne Boleyn have to die?

Available from: 

Accessed 20/07/17

[28] Borman, T. (2015) Thomas Cromwell: The untold story of Henry VIII’s most faithful servant, UK – 1st edn. Hodder and Stoughton (pg. 229)

[29] Ibid (pg. 229)

[30] Ibid (pg. 217)

[31] Starkey, D. (2002) The Reign of Henry VIII: Personalities and Politics, UK – New edn. Vintage (pg. 90)

[32] Bernard, G. W.. “‘A Much Higher Fault’: The Countess of Worcester’s Charge Against Anne.” Anne Boleyn: Fatal Attractions. New Haven [Conn.: Yale University Press, 2010. 154. Print.

[33] Bernard, G. W.. “‘A Much Higher Fault’: The Countess of Worcester’s Charge Against Anne.” Anne Boleyn: Fatal Attractions. New Haven [Conn.: Yale University Press, 2010. 154. Print.

[34] Bernard, G.W (2011) Anne Boleyn: Fatal Attractions, UK – 1st edn, Yale University Press (pg. 185)

[35] University of Southampton – Professor G.W. Bernard

Available from:

Accessed 20/07/17

[36] Borman, T. (2015) Thomas Cromwell: The untold story of Henry VIII’s most faithful servant, UK – 1st edn. Hodder and Stoughton (pg. 249)

[37] Ibid (pg. 188)

[38] ‘Henry and Anne: The Lover’s who changed history’ – Channel 5 – Last accessed – 21/07/17 ep2

[39] ‘Henry and Anne: The Lover’s who changed history’ – Channel 5 – Last accessed – 21/07/17 ep2

[40] Borman, T. (2015) Thomas Cromwell: The untold story of Henry VIII’s most faithful servant, UK – 1st edn. Hodder and Stoughton (pg. 244)

[41] Ibid (pg. 244)

[42] Ibid (pg. 244)

[43] ‘British History Online’ – ‘Henry VIII: May 1536, 16-20

Letters and Papers, Foreign and Domestic, Henry VIII, Volume 10 – January-June 1536, 908.

[44] Borman, T. (2015) Thomas Cromwell: The untold story of Henry VIII’s most faithful servant, UK – 1st edn. Hodder and Stoughton (pg. 250)

Thomas Hardy’s use of colour in ‘Tess of the D’Urbervilles’

Note: This article will probably make more sense if you have read the novel, and contains spoilers!

Some thoughts on Hardy’s use of colour in the aforementioned novel, based on my first reading of it!

Thomas Hardy is one of those writers who really paints a picture. He does so using exuberant imagery, and he pays particular attention to colour. ‘Tess of the D’Urbervilles’ was my first brush with Hardy and my above points are what stuck out to me most in his work. His use of colour is so pronounced in ‘Tess of the D’Urbervilles’ that the reader can pretty much predict the story of the heroine from her first introduction. The common colours associated with the character of Tess are red and white, which tell us a great deal. Here’s the piece of text we are going to work with:

“A young member of the band turned her head at the exclamation. She was a fine and handsome girl – not handsomer than some others, possibly – but her mobile peony mouth and large innocent eyes added eloquence to colour and shape. She wore a red ribbon in her hair, and was the only one of the white company who could boast such a pronounced adornment…”[1]

Tess is introduced in chapter two, as a “fine and handsome girl”[2] in amongst a crowd of other girls wearing white at the May Day dance. It should be noted that her youthful nature and naïveté are highlighted by her “large innocent,”[3] eyes, which act as red flags to the reader, as young, innocent girls are frequently taken advantage of. This fear is heightened further, due to her unique beauty, as beauty equals desirability. What Hardy is saying here, is that we have a beautiful, innocent woman, who is likely to attract the attention of several men, that this is dangerous. Those who have read the novel will know that this is definitely true. Another aspect that makes Tess stand out is a red ribbon running through her hair, deemed as a “pronounced adornment.”[4] Why can’t she have a red sash around her waist instead of a ribbon in her hair? Probably because hair is associated with sex and beauty. Here the use of colour comes into play, as we have the contrast of red and white, which Hardy uses to discuss the central theme in the novel, which we will get onto later.

Hardy’s frequent juxtaposition of the colours of red and white strikingly allude to Freud’s ‘Madonna-Whore complex,’ the idea that a woman has one core persona, either the chaste virgin, or the promiscuous whore. As you probably guessed, white is associated with purity and virginity, and red is associated with lust, sex and promiscuity, follow the footnote for more on that![5]… and this next one for my thoughts on Freud’s concept in Gothic literature![6] It is worth remembering that Freud’s idea developed in the early 1900s, after Hardy’s novel was published, so Hardy did not write ‘Tess’ with the complex in mind, but it can still be applied retrospectively.

The immediate contrast of these colours that collide on Tess’ physical person tell the reader that these two personas will dominate her life, and how she is viewed by those around her.

Let’s break this down further. Imagine a wedding dress with a splash of red paint on it. One would describe it as ‘tainted,’ or ‘stained.’ To me, by adding the splash of red in the form of the ribbon against the white dress, Hardy is telling the reader that Tess’s virginal image, which we get from the colour white, will be tainted by some sort of sexual scandal. I’m getting all of this from the colours, backed up by my own knowledge of Freud’s theory. What will be the result of such a sexual scandal? Hardy also pays attention to the countryside in the novel, emphasising the presence of the colour green. Green is associated with nature, fertility and childbirth… see where this could go? This observation is further validated by Hardy’s specific note that the May Day festivities are occurring, a time of year that celebrates new birth and fertility. Green also throws in a hint of jealousy too, which becomes relevant when Tess has to contend with the men in her life.

The use of these two colours, and these two personas, brings us to the biggest question in the novel – what persona does Tess fall into? Madonna or Whore? It’s up to the reader to decide, but the point of the novel, in my opinion, is to argue that she is not just one set ideal, as Angel discovers, she is not one set woman, but a multifaceted character… that being said Hardy argues for her purity in the subtitle of the novel: ‘a pure woman faithfully presented.’[7] So really Hardy is saying that she is the pure virginal figure… even though she is not a virgin literally as she is raped by Alec… but is metaphorically as she did not consent? See what I mean? This is the central contention in the novel, and I do think this particular question is timeless. The themes within the novel explain why Hardy had trouble publishing ‘Tess’ in the Victorian era as censors frequently got in his way. It also demonstrates how Freud’s idea doesn’t really fit in with the idea of a modern, 21st century woman, explaining our different reaction to the novel. I’ve not yet encountered a person, or source, that places the blame on Tess, but to a Victorian audience, the above debate would have been more heated. Hardy previews Tess’s story, and this central idea through his deft use of the colours of red and white during her first introduction.

So, from her introductory paragraph, I ascertained that the young, innocent Tess will be embroiled in some sort of sexual scandal, that will call into question her purity and chastity. This is signalled by her physical description, and particularly Hardy’s use of colour, which invokes Freud’s infamous ‘Madonna-Whore complex.’ There is also the idea that a child will be on the horizon, based on the presence of the colour green and the time of year, which is frequently associated with fertility. Guess what? My prediction was pretty much spot on. The colours also feature throughout the novel in other forms, such as red in the form of blood, white in the form of milk, and the two colours collide at the end of the novel again when Tess murders Alec. The colours of red and white are always present for significant plot developments within the novel, as the central question that they represent drives the narrative forward.

I guess this post doubles as a close analysis exercise, as all these observations stem from one paragraph, particularly a couple of sentences within said paragraph.

Thanks for reading!

[1] Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D’Urbervilles (London, Penguin Classics, 2003) p. 14.

[2] Ibid., p. 14.

[3] Ibid., p. 14.

[4] Ibid., p. 14.

[5] Madonna-whore complex – Penn State

Available at:


[7] Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D’Urbervilles (London, Penguin Classics, 2003) p. 1.

Why is it so difficult to assess the causes of the Wars of the Roses?

My take on one of the longest family feuds to grace the history books…

The Wars of the Roses describes a bloody period of instability within England, that led to numerous battles, the cause of which is said to be difficult to assess. However, when assessing the events, the weakness of Henry VI can be seen as the cause of the Wars, as his inability to control faction within his court led to their outbreak. This can be identified as the root cause of the Wars of the Roses, with the following battles being influenced by dynastic rivalry, which developed out of the faction that Henry could originally not control.

To further understand this, one must examine Henry’s warrior wife Margaret of Anjou. Henry relinquished the English territory of Maine to marry Margaret – which is quite a serious gesture.[1] Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester was aware of this trade, and Margaret knew that this information could diminish her support, as people would rather have kept Maine over Margaret.[2] Humphrey was later arrested and taken to the Tower of London, where he died in 1447.[3] It was believed that Margaret had some some shady work behind the scenes, and was actually involved in the Duke’s arrest and death, as Vickers notes that she was “successful indeed.”[4] Patricia Anne-Lee argues, that, through her involvement in Humphrey’s death, Margaret made an enemy of Richard, Duke of York, which led to faction that Henry could not control.[5] Anne-Lee goes on to note that, although Margaret’s actions made an enemy of York, she was not directly responsible for the Wars. This is plausible, as although Margaret’s actions did lead to the development of court faction, Henry’s inability to control such faction led to its escalation and the outbreak of war. Historians such as the chronicler Fabyan note that Henry’s marriage to Margaret was a significant cause of the conflict within court,[6] as agreed by Tudor historian Polydore Vergil, who noted that Margaret’s unpopularity during her reign led to greater animosity amongst those at court.[7] It should be noted that Margaret had to assume control only due to Henry’s illness and poor governance,[8] emphasising that although Margaret had an important role in the events, it was still the weakness of Henry VI that allowed the conflict between Margaret and York to develop, as he did not quash it.

York himself disliked the Duke of Somerset after he replaced York as the “king’s lieutenant general and governor in France,” as noted by Michael K Jones.[9] Jones cites this as the source of their conflict, which was only intensified by Somerset’s alliance with the forever popular Margaret. The rivalry between Somerset and York is an important aspect of the Wars, and also shows that Henry’s weakness, and inability to control faction, led to the outbreak of war. Although Somerset and York could be blamed for the Wars of the Roses, the weakness of Henry cannot be ignored. If Henry was able to control the warring nobles at court, the Wars of the Roses would not have occurred. The actions of Margaret and the rivalry between Somerset and York set the context for the outbreak of the Wars of the Roses, due to the development of faction, which leads to an examination of Henry himself.

England’s defeat in the Hundred Years War increased tensions in England, and the populations’ view that Henry was a weak king, as identified by David Grummitt.[10] Henry’s weakness, in comparison to his heroic father Henry V, allowed faction to develop as people began to realise that Henry was not fit to rule. Henry’s lack of control can be seen in the Dartford Incident of 1452. York planned to amass an army to facilitate the removal of Somerset and planned to recruit men in Kent.[11] Despite York’s treasonous intent, after the failing of his coup d’état he was forgiven by Henry in 1453.[12] Henry’s constant forgiveness of those around them led them to believe that such insurrection would go unpunished, which would eventually lead to the outbreak of the Wars of the Roses, as people, like York, would continue to rebel. Historian John Guy identifies Henry VI’s illness in 1453 as the direct trigger for the Battle of St Albans, as it allowed York to become Lord Protector in 1454.[13] His subsequent demotion upon Henry’s recovery in 1455, and the reversal of his reforms, caused York to become embittered.[14] Sarah Gristwood identifies a council meeting in 1455 as the direct trigger of the Battle of St Albans, as the Somerset and Yorkist faction quarrelled, leading York to gather forces against the King.[15] If Henry had been more forceful, and had dealt with the rising animosity in a more suitable way, the Battle of St Albans would not have occurred. It was the weakness of Henry, exemplified by his forgiveness of York after the Dartford Incident, that allowed the Wars of the Roses to break out. McFarlane too identifies the weakness of Henry VI as the most significant cause of the Wars of the Roses,[16] as does David Grummitt, who notes that Henry had “neither the inclination nor the ability” to rule effectively.[17] It was Henry’s weakness that led to the Battle of St Albans, and subsequently, the Wars of the Roses, as he was unable to control the developing faction within his court.

York was not reprimanded for the rebellion, again demonstrating the weakness of Henry as he was unable to control faction. The Yorkists aimed to legitimise their rebellion, stating that they acted for the good of the realm.[18] Following Henry’s illness, York was made Lord Protector again for a short time, which ended in 1456.[19] York’s ascension to power appears odd considering his previous insurrection, reinforcing the fact that Henry’s weakness was the main cause of the Wars of the Roses. York’s frustration, and lack of power, which was hampered by Margaret,[20] led to increasing tensions at court, resulting in York rebelling again at the Battle of Blore Heath in 1459. The direct cause of this battle was the actions of York, and his new ally the Richard Neville, the Earl of Warwick. And Henry still hired him. If Henry had reprimanded York for his previous rebellion, it is doubtful that York would have rebelled again. Following the battle, York fled to Ireland and Warwick fled to Calais signalling a divide between the houses of York and Lancaster which would not be reconciled. Henry took action to condemn the conspirators, declaring that Warwick and York had committed treason at the Parliament of the Devils a month after Blore Heath.[21] This does demonstrate Henry’s strength, but at too late a point. Perhaps if he had reprimanded them sooner, he could have stopped the development of faction and prevented the Wars of the Roses.

Henry’s weakness is the fundamental cause of the Wars of the Roses, but when examining the development of the Wars, beginning with the Battle of Northampton in 1460, it can be seen that they become focused on dynastic ambition. After York laid his claim to the throne, Parliament formed the Act of Accord, which stated that York and his children would inherit after the death of Henry. This disinherited his son Edward and signals the point at which the Wars became focused on dynastic ambition. John Guy notes this, stating that previously the Wars had been about warring nobles, but now they were about dynastic claim.[22] This incensed Margaret, leading her to rally the Lancastrians and go to war with the Yorkists. The issuing of the Act of Accord marks the change in motivation for going to war as warrior mother Margaret fought to defend her son’s birth right and dynastic claim. She defeated York at the Battle of Wakefield in December 1460. York and his eldest son were killed, which intensified each battle of the Wars, as people were no longer held hostage, they were killed.[23] The motivation for this battle demonstrates the importance of dynastic conflict which developed from faction, because of the weakness of Henry VI. The cause of the Wars of the Roses was his weakness, and later on the Wars were propelled by dynastic ambition and conflict.

This motivated the Battle of Mortimer’s Cross in 1461, leading to a Yorkist victory.[24] Warwick fought with York’s son Edward, who was welcomed in London due to his victory, as people considered it to be a blessing from God.[25] This was to be important in the Second Battle of St Albans in the same year, as although Margaret led the Lancastrians to victory, and reclaimed her husband,[26] she was barred entry to London as it was a Yorkist stronghold.[27] Margaret’s desperation for her son to be king pushed her to go to London, explaining the lengths she went to for her own dynastic ambition. This shows that, following the weakness of Henry VI, the wars were heavily influenced by dynastic conflict. When Margaret was turned away, Warwick placed Edward, Duke of York on the throne, making him King Edward IV. This particular incident demonstrates that the Wars were driven forward by dynastic ambition and conflict, as Margaret’s desire for her son’s birth right pushed her to battle the Yorkists and march to London, and fight at the Battle of Towton, which, unfortunately for the Lancastrians, secured Yorkist rule.[28]

John Guy argues that the Second War, 1469 to 1471, was triggered by the marriage of Edward to Elizabeth Woodville.[29] This angered Warwick, who lost some of his offices to the Woodville’s.[30] Edward’s rejection of Warwick’s proposal to marry his daughter to Edward’s brother George increased the animosity between them.[31] Warwick’s falling favour too demonstrates how dynastic rivalry dominated the Wars of the Roses, following the weakness of Henry VI. Warwick’s growing frustrations, and declining status within court, caused him to actively rebel against the king he crowned, with the aim of placing Henry back on the throne. Still following? Stay with me! Although the Woodville marriage was the direct trigger for this, Warwick’s ambitions demonstrate the role of dynastic claim in defining the Wars of the Roses.

Warwick and George, Duke of Clarence used the unrest in the North to rebel against Edward, leading to the Battles of Edgecote and Losecote Field.[32] Following their defeat at Losecote, Warwick and Clarence fled abroad to ally with Margaret – she’s back in the game![33] Their alliance with their former enemy demonstrates the dynastic ambition of both parties, and its importance in the Wars. Warwick’s landing in Devon, with 60,000 men, prompted Edward’s fleeing of London, leaving the throne empty for the Readeption of Henry VI.[34] Warwick knew that he could rule England through Henry, emphasising his dynastic ambitions and desire for power, which he knew he could harness through Henry VI.

Edward returned for his crown, highlighting dynastic ambition as an important cause for the continuation of the Wars. Edward killed Warwick at the Battle of Barnet in April 1471,[35] and secured his reign by capturing Margaret and killing her son at the Battle of Tewkesbury the following month, thus ending the Lancastrian threat.[36] The Second War was motivated by dynastic ambition, as both the Lancastrians and Yorkists fought to gain power or the crown. This dynastic rivalry developed out of faction that began at the court of Henry VI. His weakness, and inability to control said faction allowed for the outbreak of the Wars, which were later dominated by the dynastic ambition of those involved. Only the Third War left!

The trigger for the Third War, 1485 to 1487, too was influenced by dynastic ambition and occurred due the usurpation of Richard III, as argued by David Grummitt.[37] Upon the sudden death of Edward IV in 1483, faction began to develop due to the youth of his son Edward V.[38] After gathering support and forcing the hand of Parliament, Richard was declared Lord Protector,[39] and later the King as instructed by the Titulus Regius, which disinherited Edward IV’s sons and placed them in the Tower.[40] Richard stole the throne and was driven by his own dynastic ambition for power, demonstrating that at this point, the Wars of the Roses were driven by such aims.

The emergence of Henry Tudor was also due to dynastic claim. As well as receiving aid from his mother, Margaret Beaufort, Henry also received aid from Brittany, as they assembled two flotillas for him in 1483 and 1484.[41] Outrage at Richard’s usurpation, as well as the stories of the Princes in the Tower[42] act as a direct cause for the Battle of Bosworth in 1485, but again, the main cause of Henry’s rebellion was his dynastic ambition and claim to the throne. Following Richard’s death, Henry secured this claim at the Battle of Stoke in 1487, by defeating Lambert Simnel, who was pretending to be the son of George, Duke of Clarence.[43] Guy notes that this battle marked the end of the third war, and the Wars of the Roses as a whole.[44]

In conclusion, one could argue that it is difficult to assess the causes of the Wars due to their length. However, on close interrogation, it was the weakness of Henry VI that allowed for court faction to develop and war to begin. Henry’s illness, and recovery allowed for the alienation of Richard, Duke of York, as power was constantly given to him and then taken away, due to the intervention of mother-of-the-year Margaret. This formed the two distinct groups of York and Lancaster. After the Act of Accord, the overarching theme of each battle was dynastic ambition, as each group sought power and the crown, pushing them to go to war.

Thanks for reading!

[1] K. Vickers, Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester: A Biography, (London, 2015), p. 288.

[2] Ibid, p. 288.

[3] Ibid, p. 293.

[4] Ibid, p. 290.

[5] P-A. Lee, ‘Reflections of Power: Margaret of Anjou and the Dark Side of Queenship’, Renaissance Quarterly, 39 (1986), p. 201.

[6] Ibid, p. 202.

[7] Ibid, p. 204.

[8] Ibid, p. 204.

[9] M-K. Jones, ‘Somerset, York and the Wars of the Roses’, The English Historical Review, 104 (1989), p. 209.

[10] D. Grummitt, A Short History of the Wars of the Roses, (London, 2012), p. xiv.

[11] M. Hicks, The Wars of the Roses, (Yale, 2012), p. 102.

[12] Ibid, p. 103.

[13] J. Guy, Tudor England, (Oxford, 2000), p. 2.

[14] Hicks, The Wars of the Roses, p. 107.

[15] S. Gristwood, Blood Sisters: The Women Behind the Wars of the Roses, (London, 2013), p. 41.

[16] Hicks, The Wars of the Roses, p. 77.

[17] The Faculties, Why were there Wars between Lancastrians & Yorkists? Pt1 Dr. David Grummitt (online video recording), YouTube, 6 January 2015, <> [accessed 6 December 2018].

[18] Hicks, The Wars of the Roses, p. 113.

[19] Ibid, p. 116.

[20] Ibid, p. 123.

[21] Ibid, p. 145.

[22] Guy, Tudor England, p. 2.

[23] Hicks, The Wars of the Roses, p. 160.

[24] Ibid, p. 160.

[25] Ibid, p. 161.

[26] Ibid, p. 161.

[27] Ibid, p. 161.

[28] Ibid, p. 163.

[29] Guy, Tudor England, p. 2.

[30] Hicks, The Wars of the Roses, p. 188.

[31] Ibid, p. 186.

[32] Britain’s Bloody Crown, Series 1 Episode 2: The Kingmaker Must Die (Channel 5, 14 January 2016).

[33] Hicks, The Wars of the Roses, p. 199.

[34] Ibid, p. 201.

[35] Ibid, p. 203.

[36] Ibid, p. 204.

[37] Grummitt, A Short History of the Wars of the Roses, p. xii.

[38] Hicks, The Wars of the Roses, p. 215.

[39] Ibid, p. 216.

[40] Ibid, p. 222.

[41] Ibid, p. 228.

[42] Hicks, The Wars of the Roses, p. 230.

[43] Ibid, p. 244.

[44] Guy, Tudor England, p. 3.