Oct 162018
 

Two of the Oxford Martyrs, Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley, were burnt at the stake in Oxford on this date in 1555. The third, Thomas Cranmer was burnt 5 months later on 21st March 1556. They have become celebrated in English church history because they were caught up in the politics of the day and executed for their faith. Latimer and Ridley are honored by the Anglican church on this date, because of their martyrdom. Cranmer has a separate feast day.

Being a cleric in Tudor England was a dangerous business. Henry VIII broke with Rome and declared himself head of the Church of England purely because he wanted a divorce. He had no interest in changing anything else in the church. There were reformers within the English church who wanted to see changes, but they held off until Henry died, because the upper clergy were split between traditionalists and reformers, and Henry sided with the traditionalists, refusing to allow any changes in doctrine or ceremony. When Henry’s son, Edward, was crowned king, the reformers saw their chance. Thomas Cranmer was archbishop of Canterbury early in Henry’s reign and facilitated the split with Rome to be able to annul Henry’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon. The annulment also put the legitimacy of Mary, Catherine’s only daughter, in jeopardy. Edward, Henry’s third child, took precedence over Mary for the throne because of Salic Law (male heirs take precedence over females, regardless of age) – and, interestingly, Salic Law has only recently been overturned in England.

Cranmer

Edward was 9 years old when he came to the throne in 1537. He had been raised Protestant, but he was king in name only. England was governed by a regency council, and the reform of the church was left in the hands of bishops, of whom Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley were key players.  Because Edward was in no position to oppose reform of doctrine and ceremony as Henry had done, the bishops had free hand, and the foundations of the current Church of England were laid at this time. Cranmer was the chief architect of reform. He was responsible for establishing the first doctrinal and liturgical structures of the reformed Church of England. He published the first officially authorized vernacular service, the Exhortation and Litany, under Henry, but his major reforms were under Edward. He wrote and compiled the first two editions of the Book of Common Prayer, a complete liturgy for the English Church. With the assistance of several Continental reformers to whom he gave refuge, he changed doctrine in areas such as the Eucharist, clerical celibacy, the role of images in places of worship, and the veneration of saints. Cranmer promulgated the new doctrines through the Prayer Book, the Homilies and other publications. As the chief reformer under Edward, his fate was sealed when Mary came to the throne. Latimer and Ridley were lesser players, but their fate was also sealed because of their closeness to Edward.

Ridley

When Edward died in 1553, the church and government were thrown into turmoil. The royal council knew that if Mary ascended the throne, England would be forced back to Catholicism, and there was considerable opposition to this possibility. In consequence, Edward’s council convinced him to name his cousin, Lady Jane Grey, as his successor, and to declare both of his half-sisters, Mary and Elizabeth as illegitimate, when it became clear he was dying. On 17th June 1553 the king made his will noting Jane would succeed him, contravening the Third Succession Act.

Ridley signed the letters patent giving the English throne to Lady Jane Grey. On 9th July 1553 he preached a sermon at St Paul’s cross in which he affirmed that the princesses Mary and Elizabeth were bastards. By mid-July, there were serious provincial revolts in Mary’s favor and support for Jane in the council fell. As Mary was proclaimed queen, Ridley, Jane’s father, the Duke of Suffolk, and others were imprisoned. Ridley was sent to the Tower of London. Throughout February 1554 the political leaders who were supporters of Jane were executed, including Jane herself. After that, there was time to deal with the religious leaders of the English Reformation and so on 8th March 1554 the Privy Council ordered Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer to be transferred to Bocardo prison in Oxford to await trial for heresy.

Latimer

Latimer was a bit of an odd man out. Before the English Reformation he had been a staunch papist, even describing himself as “as obstinate a papist as any was in England”. But in the mid-1520s he was converted to Protestantism through the teaching of prominent scholars, and became as zealous against the Catholic church as he had once been for it. He even advocated a new translation of the Bible into English even though William Tyndale’s translation of the Greek Testament was still banned. In 1539 when Henry VIII was confronted with radical Lutheran teaching from the continent he produced the Six Articles, reaffirming the heart of Catholic doctrine:

Transubstantiation (real presence of Christ’s body and blood in the mass),

The reasonableness of withholding the cup from the laity during communion,

Clerical celibacy,

Observance of vows of chastity,

Permission for private masses,

Importance of auricular confession.

Latimer opposed the Six Articles and was promptly imprisoned in the Tower of London. When Edward came to the throne he was restored to favor, and became the royal preacher until 1550. He was chaplain to the duchess of Suffolk when Mary came to the throne, and so, unlike Cranmer and Ridley, was not in the direct line of fire. He could have fled England, as many other high churchmen did, but he chose to remain and was caught up in Mary’s net, which ensnared all prominent Protestant theologians who remained. At his heresy trial in Oxford Latimer is recorded as saying, “’I thank God most heartily that He hath prolonged my life to this end, that I may in this case glorify God by that kind of death.” The prosecutor replied, (and I paraphrase), “If this faith takes you to heaven, I won’t be joining you.”

Latimer and Ridley’s death sentence was carried out just north of Oxford city wall where Broad street is now while Cranmer was taken to a tower to watch. Ridley burned extremely slowly and suffered a great deal: his brother-in-law had put more tinder on the pyre, in order to speed his death, but they caused only his lower parts to burn. Latimer is supposed to have said to Ridley, “Be of good comfort, and play the man, Master Ridley; we shall this day light such a candle, by God’s grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.” This was quoted in Foxe’s Book of Martyrs.

A small area cobbled with stones forming a cross in the center of the road outside the front of Balliol College marks the site of execution. The Victorian spire-like Martyrs’ Memorial, at the south end of St Giles’ nearby, commemorates the events. It is claimed that the scorch marks from the flames can still be seen on the doors of Balliol College (now rehung between the Front Quadrangle and Garden Quadrangle).

It is painfully easy, and all too common, to point to events like the execution of Latimer and Ridley, and say, “Look where religion leads.” It is a lot wiser to say, “Look what happens when religion and politics get entwined.” Mary did her best in her short reign to get rid of all people who had stood in her way, and because religious matters were deeply tied to her succession, religious leaders were swept up in her persecutions. I’ll admit that she had the deep convictions of her faith, but she was also a ruthless monarch, and the Catholic church by her day had become more a tool of state than an avenue to spiritual truth. People still use religious doctrine to buttress political beliefs, and this practice is as wrongheaded now as it was in Tudor times – and leads down the same paths.

I have given quite a few Oxford recipes in the past, so here’s video on Tudor cooking from the kitchen of Hampton Court, built by Henry VIII’s primate cardinal Wolsey.

Sep 222018
 

Today is the birthday (1515) of Anne of Cleves (Anna von Kleve), fourth wife of Henry VIII of England. The marriage was declared unconsummated and, as a result, she was not crowned queen consort. Following the annulment, she was given a generous settlement by the King, and thereafter referred to as the King’s Beloved Sister. She lived to see the coronation of Queen Mary I, outliving the rest of Henry’s wives. Anne has suffered in popular history as the “Mare of Flanders” and is often characterized as so ugly that Henry got rid of her as soon as he could once he actually laid eyes on her. Like all popular history, this tale needs correcting.

Anne was born in Düsseldorf, the second daughter of John III of the House of La Marck, Duke of Jülich jure uxoris, Cleves, Berg jure uxoris, Count of Mark, also known as de la Marck and Ravensberg jure uxoris (often referred to as Duke of Cleves), and his wife Maria, Duchess of Julich-Berg (1491–1543). She grew up living in Schloss Burg on the edge of Solingen.

Anne’s father was influenced by Erasmus and followed a moderate path within the Reformation. He sided with the Schmalkaldic League and opposed Emperor Charles V. After John’s death, Anne’s brother William became Duke of Jülich-Cleves-Berg, bearing the promising epithet “The Rich”. In 1526, her elder sister Sibylle was married to John Frederick, Elector of Saxony, head of the Protestant Confederation of Germany and considered the “Champion of the Reformation”. At the age of 11 (1527), Anne was betrothed to Francis, son and heir of the Duke of Lorraine while he was only 10. Thus, the betrothal was considered unofficial and was cancelled in 1535. Her brother William was a Lutheran, but the family was unaligned religiously, with her mother described as a strict Catholic. The duke’s ongoing dispute over Gelderland with emperor Charles V made them suitable allies for England’s Henry VIII in the wake of the Truce of Nice. The match with Anne was urged on the king by his chief minister, Thomas Cromwell.

 

The artist Hans Holbein the Younger was dispatched to Duren to paint portraits of Anne and her younger sister, Amalia, each of whom Henry was considering as his fourth wife. Henry required the artist to be as accurate as possible, not to flatter the sisters. The two versions of Holbein’s portrait are in the Musée du Louvre in Paris and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.

Another 1539 portrait, by the school of Barthel Bruyn the Elder, is in the collection of Trinity College, Cambridge. Henry might have wished photography had been invented, but he would have been mistaken. Photography can mislead every bit as much as oil painting. From these paintings, Anne seems to look much like Henry’s other wives, maybe even prettier than some. But who knows what she was like in the flesh? Furthermore, attractiveness has as much to do with manner as with physical appearance, and there may have lain the issue for Henry.

Negotiations with Cleves were in full swing by March 1539. Cromwell oversaw the talks and a marriage treaty was signed on 4th October of that year. Henry valued education and cultural sophistication in women, but Anne lacked these. She had received no formal education but was skilled in needlework and liked playing card games. She could read and write, but only in German. Nevertheless, Anne was considered gentle and virtuous, as well as being easily manipulated, which seemed to make her a suitable candidate for Henry.

Anne was described by the French ambassador, Charles de Marillac, as tall and slim, “of middling beauty and of very assured and resolute countenance”. In the words of the chronicler Edward Hall, “Her hair hanging down, which was fair, yellow and long … she was apparelled after the English fashion, with a French hood, which so set forth her beauty and good visage, that every creature rejoiced to behold her”.She appeared rather solemn by English standards. Henry met her privately on New Year’s Day 1540 at Rochester Abbey in Rochester on her journey from Dover. Henry and some of his courtiers, following a courtly-love tradition, went disguised into the room where Anne was staying. Eustace Chapuys reported:

[The King] so went up into the chamber where the said Lady Anne was looking out of a window to see the bull-baiting which was going on in the courtyard, and suddenly he embraced and kissed her, and showed her a token which the king had sent her for New Year’s gift, and she being abashed and not knowing who it was thanked him, and so he spoke with her. But she regarded him little, but always looked out the window…. and when the king saw that she took so little notice of his coming he went into another chamber and took off his cloak and came in again in a coat of purple velvet. And when the lords and knights saw his grace they did him reverence.

Although Anne reportedly “regarded him little” it is unknown if she knew this was the king or not. Henry did reveal his true identity to Anne at the time, although he is said to have been soured on the marriage from then on. Henry and Anne met officially on 3rd January on Blackheath outside the gates of Greenwich Park, where a grand reception was laid out. Most historians believe that he later used Anne’s alleged unattractiveness and failure to inspire him to consummate the marriage as excuses, saying he felt he had been misled: “She is nothing so fair as she hath been reported”, he complained. Cromwell received some of the blame for the portrait by Holbein which Henry believed had not been an accurate representation of Anne and for some of the exaggerated reports of her beauty. The marriage was never consummated.

Henry urged Cromwell to find a legal way to avoid the marriage but, by this point, doing so was impossible without endangering the vital alliance with the Germans. In his anger and frustration the king finally turned on Cromwell, who had been a loyal subordinate in all matters. Cromwell’s enemies, who had long waited for him to make his first false step, began to close in.

Despite Henry’s very vocal misgivings, the two were married on 6th January 1540 at the royal Palace of Placentia in Greenwich by archbishop Thomas Cranmer. The phrase “God send me well to keep” was engraved around Anne’s wedding ring. Immediately after arriving in England, Anne conformed to the Anglican form of worship, which Henry expected. The couple’s first night as husband and wife was not pleasant. Henry confided to Cromwell that he had not consummated the marriage, saying, “I liked her before not well, but now I like her much worse.” In February 1540, speaking to the Countess of Rutland, Anne praised the King as a kind husband, saying: “When he comes to bed he kisseth me, and he taketh me by the hand, and biddeth me ‘Good night, sweetheart’; and in the morning kisseth me and biddeth ‘Farewell, darling.'” Lady Rutland responded: “Madam, there must be more than this, or it will be long ere we have a duke of York, which all this realm most desireth.”

Anne was commanded to leave the Court on 24th June, and on 6th July she was informed of her husband’s decision to reconsider the marriage. Witness statements were taken from a number of courtiers and two physicians registering the king’s disappointment at her appearance. Henry had also commented to Thomas Heneage and Anthony Denny that he could not believe she was a virgin. Shortly afterwards, Anne was asked for her consent to an annulment, to which she agreed. Cromwell, the moving force behind the marriage, was attainted for treason. The marriage was annulled on 9th July 1540, on the grounds of non-consummation and her pre-contract to Francis of Lorraine. Henry VIII’s physician stated that after the wedding night, Henry said he was not impotent because he experienced “duas pollutiones nocturnas in somno” (two nocturnal pollutions (ejaculations) while in sleep). On 28th July, Henry married his fifth wife, Catherine Howard. On the same day Thomas Cromwell was executed, in theory for treason, but in practice as a scapegoat for the doomed German marriage.

Anne, as former queen, received a generous settlement, including Richmond Palace, and Hever Castle, home of Henry’s former in-laws, the Boleyns. Anne of Cleves House, in Lewes, East Sussex, is just one of many properties she owned although she never lived there. Henry and Anne became good friends—she was an honorary member of the king’s family and was referred to as “the King’s Beloved Sister”. She was invited to court often and, out of gratitude for her not contesting the annulment, Henry decreed that she would be given precedence over all women in England save his own wife and daughters.

After Catherine Howard was beheaded, Anne and her brother, the Duke of Cleves, pressed the king to remarry Anne. Henry quickly refused to do so. Anne seems to have disliked Catherine Parr, and reportedly reacted to the news of Henry’s sixth marriage with the remark “Madam Parr is taking a great burden on herself.” In March 1547, Edward VI’s Privy Council asked Anne to move out of Bletchingley Palace, her usual residence, to Penshurst Place to make way for Thomas Cawarden, Master of Revels. They pointed out that Penshurst was nearer to Hever and the move had been Henry VIII’s will.

On 4th August 1553, Anne wrote to Mary I to congratulate her on her marriage to Philip of Spain. On 28th  September 1553, when Mary left St James’s Palace for Whitehall, she was accompanied by her sister Elizabeth and Anne of Cleves. Anne also took part in Mary I’s coronation procession, and may have been present at her coronation at Westminster Abbey. These were her last public appearances. Because Mary was a strict Catholic, Anne yet again changed religion, now becoming a Roman Catholic. After a brief return to prominence, she lost royal favor in 1554, following Wyatt’s rebellion. According to Simon Renard, the imperial ambassador, Anne’s close association with Elizabeth had convinced the Queen that “the Lady [Anne] of Cleves was of the plot and intrigued with the Duke of Cleves to obtain help for Elizabeth: matters in which the king of France was the prime mover.” There is no evidence that Anne was invited back to court after 1554. She was compelled to live a quiet and obscure life on her estates. From the time of her arrival as the king’s bride, Anne never left England. Despite occasional feelings of homesickness, Anne was generally content in England and was described by Holinshed as “a ladie of right commendable regards, courteous, gentle, a good housekeeper and verie bountifull to her servants.”

When Anne’s health began to fail, Mary allowed her to live at Chelsea Old Manor, where Henry’s last wife, Catherine Parr, had lived after her remarriage. Here, in the middle of July 1557, Anne dictated her last will. In it, she mentions her brother, sister, and sister-in-law, as well as the future queen Elizabeth, the duchess of Suffolk, and the countess of Arundel. She left some money to her servants and asked Mary and Elizabeth to employ them in their households. She was remembered by everyone who served her as a particularly generous and easy-going mistress.

Anne died at Chelsea Old Manor on 16th July 1557, eight weeks before her forty-second birthday. The most likely cause of her death was cancer. She was buried in Westminster Abbey, on 3 August, in what has been described as a “somewhat hard to find tomb” on the opposite side of Edward the Confessor’s shrine and slightly above eye level for a person of average height. She is the only wife of Henry VIII to be buried in the Abbey.

Anne’s epitaph in Westminster Abbey, which is in English, reads simply:

ANNE OF CLEVES

QUEEN OF ENGLAND

BORN 1515 * DIED 1557

Anne has the distinction of being the last of Henry VIII’s wives to die, as she outlived Henry’s last wife, Catherine Parr, by 9 years. She was not the longest-lived, however, since Catherine of Aragon was 50 at the time of her death.

I’ve covered various Tudors in my posts over the years and accompanied the posts with English Tudor recipes which you may search for if you are so inclined. Instead I will take a look at apfelkraut which originated in the northern Rhineland, although these days it is an apple spread (above), much like the apple butter of the US. Originally it was a fermented mix of apples and cabbage, which was then cooked with other ingredients. I cannot claim that this recipe is close to the 16th century version, but it is complex and tasty, and makes a good accompaniment for meat. It is something of a rigmarole to make. You need to start at least 4 weeks before you plan to serve it.

Apfelkraut

Ingredients

Sauerkraut

8 lb cabbage
3 tart apples, peeled, cored, and diced
¼ lb kosher or pickling salt
1 tsp caraway seeds

Apfelkraut

4 strips bacon
1 onion, peeled and chopped
3 cooking apples, peeled, cored and quartered
½ cup chicken broth
½ cup dry white wine
2 potatoes, finely grated
1 tbsp white wine vinegar
2 tbsp brown sugar

Instructions

Begin this process at least 4 weeks, and up to 6 weeks before serving. Begin by making sauerkraut.

Sauerkraut

Remove 2 or 3 of the tougher outer leaves from each cabbage and set them aside. Cut the cabbages in half and slice them very fine by hand or with a shredder or mandolin. In a large bowl, mix the cabbage with the salt, caraway and apples.

Line a gallon ceramic crock with the outer cabbage leaves, saving a few to cover the top. Put in a quarter of the cabbage mixture and tamp it down with a heavy clean object like the bottom of a wine bottle. Repeat until all the cabbage is in. From the tamping, sufficient brine should be released to cover the cabbage. Cover the cabbage with the remaining leaves. The cabbage will swell while fermenting, so it should not reach all the way to the top. Lay a plastic bag or a cloth over the leaves. Cover with a plate and then a weight, such as a heavy can or jar of water, to keep the cabbage under the brine and out of the air.

The cabbage will take anywhere from 2 to 6 weeks to ferment (below 75°F, 4 to 6 weeks; above 75°F, 2 to 3 weeks). Every few days, remove the scum from the top of the brine, replace the plastic bag or cloth, wash the plate and the rim of the crock, and return the plate and weight. When the bubbling stops, fermentation is complete. Cover the crock lightly and store in a cool (38°F) place, or refrigerate. Rinse the cabbage before using.

Apfelkraut

Sauté the bacon in a dry skillet over medium-high heat until crisp. Remove the bacon from the pan and drain. Pour off all but 4 tablespoons fat. Add the onion and sauté over medium heat until translucent. Rinse the sauerkraut, drain well, and stir into the onion. Cover the pan and simmer 10 minutes.

Add the apples, broth, wine, potatoes, vinegar and sugar. Return to the simmer and simmer gently until the apples and potatoes are tender but not mushy (10 to 20 minutes). Serve warm.

Jan 282018
 

On this date in 1547 Henry VIII died and his only son became Edward VI of England and Ireland until his death six years later. He was nine years old when he was crowned on 20th February. Edward was England’s first monarch to be raised as a Protestant, and, even though his reign was brief, it was a momentous time for the church and the monarchy. During his reign, the realm was governed by a Regency Council because he never reached his majority. The Council was first led by his mother’s brother, Edward Seymour, 1st Duke of Somerset (1547–1549), and then by John Dudley, 1st Earl of Warwick (later, Duke of Northumberland).

Edward’s reign was marked by economic problems and social unrest that in 1549 erupted into riot and rebellion. An expensive war with Scotland, at first successful, ended with military withdrawal from Scotland and Boulogne-sur-Mer in exchange for peace. The transformation of the Church of England into a recognizably Protestant body also occurred under Edward, who took great interest in religious matters. Although his father, Henry VIII, had severed the link between the Church and Rome, he had never permitted the renunciation of Catholic doctrine or ceremony. The Protestant Reformation in Europe is often couched in religious terms, but it was as much a political reality as a theological one. Heads of state across the continent chafed at the fact that the pope was quite legally capable of meddling in affairs of state. Most of the time their conflicts could be staved off with bribes: but not always. Sometimes it came to war. In Henry’s case, the matter was very simple. He wanted a divorce and the pope would not grant it.

Somerset

There is no question that Henry was a devout Catholic, and he even couched his request in Biblical terms. Leviticus forbids a man from marrying his dead brother’s wife (levirate marriage), but that is exactly what Henry’s father, Henry VII, had forced him to do. Henry’s father wanted an alliance with Aragon and so had married his eldest son and heir, Arthur, to Catherine of Aragon. When Arthur died, Henry VII wanted to salvage the alliance, so he married his second son, Henry, off to Catherine. She produced only a daughter, and no live sons, so Henry argued that this was God’s curse on the marriage for breaking Biblical law. The pope, for various reasons, was not persuaded, so Henry, following the lead of the German states, broke from Rome, declared himself head of the Church of England, and granted himself a divorce: done and dusted. He was not remotely interested in changing the doctrines and rituals of the church. He remained until the day he died, in all but name, a staunch Catholic.

Northumberland

It was during Edward’s reign that Protestantism was properly established in England with reforms that included the abolition of clerical celibacy, and the Mass, and the replacement of services in Latin with compulsory services in English. Both Somerset and Northumberland followed an increasingly vigorous program of church reform. Although Edward VI’s practical influence on government was limited, his intense Protestantism made a reforming administration obligatory. His succession was managed by the reforming faction, who continued in power throughout his reign. The man Edward trusted most, Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop of Canterbury, introduced a series of religious reforms that revolutionized the English church from one that—while rejecting papal supremacy—remained essentially Catholic, to one that was institutionally Protestant. The confiscation of church property that had begun under Henry VIII resumed under Edward—notably with the dissolution of the chantries—to the great monetary advantage of the crown and the new owners of the seized property. Church reform was therefore as much a political as a religious policy under Edward VI. By the end of his reign, the church had been financially ruined, with much of the property of the bishops transferred into lay hands. This seizure of property meant effectively that when Edward died and his half-sister Mary came to throne, wishing to turn England back to a Catholic country, she was blocked at every turn because the church was bankrupt, and its backbone, the monasteries, chantries, and church lands, could not be restored.

The religious convictions of both Somerset and Northumberland have proved elusive for historians, who are divided on the sincerity of their Protestantism. There is less doubt, however, about the religious fervor Edward, who was said to have read twelve chapters of scripture daily and enjoyed sermons, and was commemorated by John Foxe as a “godly imp.” Edward was depicted during his life and afterwards as a new Josiah, the biblical king who destroyed the idols of Baal. He could be priggish in his anti-Catholicism and once asked Catherine Parr to persuade Lady Mary “to attend no longer to foreign dances and merriments which do not become a most Christian princess.” We should be a little cautious, however. In the early part of his life, Edward conformed to the prevailing Catholic practices of his father, including attendance at mass. But he became convinced, under the influence of Cranmer and the reformers among his tutors and courtiers, that “true” religion should be imposed in England.

The English Reformation advanced under pressure from two directions: from the traditionalists on the one hand and the zealots on the other, who led incidents of iconoclasm (image-smashing) and complained that reform did not go far enough. Reformed doctrines were made official, such as justification by faith alone and communion for laity as well as clergy in both kinds, of bread and wine. The Ordinal of 1550 replaced the divine ordination of priests with a government-run appointment system, authorizing ministers to preach the gospel and administer the sacraments rather than, as before, “to offer sacrifice and celebrate mass both for the living and the dead.” Cranmer set himself the task of writing a uniform liturgy in English, detailing all weekly and daily services and religious festivals, to be made compulsory in the first Act of Uniformity of 1549. The Book of Common Prayer of 1549, intended as a compromise, was attacked by traditionalists for dispensing with many cherished rituals of the liturgy, such as the elevation of the bread and wine, while some reformers complained about the retention of too many “popish” elements, including vestiges of sacrificial rites at communion. The prayer book was also opposed by many senior Catholic clerics, including Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, and Edmund Bonner, Bishop of London, who were both imprisoned in the Tower and, along with others, deprived of their sees.

After 1551, the Reformation advanced further, with the approval and encouragement of Edward, who began to exert more personal influence in his role as Supreme Head of the church. The new changes were also a response to criticism from such reformers as John Hooper, Bishop of Gloucester, and John Knox, who was employed as a minister in Newcastle upon Tyne under the Duke of Northumberland and whose preaching at court prompted the king to oppose kneeling at communion. Cranmer was also influenced by the views of the continental reformer Martin Bucer, who died in England in 1551, by Peter Martyr, who was teaching at Oxford, and by other foreign theologians. The progress of the Reformation was further speeded by the consecration of more reformers as bishops. In the winter of 1551–52, Cranmer rewrote the Book of Common Prayer in less ambiguous reformist terms, revised canon law, and prepared a doctrinal statement, the Forty-Two Articles, to clarify the practice of the reformed religion, particularly in the divisive matter of the communion service. Cranmer’s formulation of the reformed religion, finally divesting the communion service of any notion of the real presence of God in the bread and the wine, effectively abolished the mass. The prayer book of 1552 remains the foundation of the Church of England’s services. However, Cranmer was unable to implement all these reforms once it became clear in spring 1553 that Edward, upon whom the whole Reformation in England depended, was dying.

Cranmer

In February 1553, at age 15, Edward fell ill. When his sickness was determined to be terminal, he and his Council drew up a “Devise for the Succession”, to prevent the country’s return to Catholicism. Edward named his first cousin once removed, Lady Jane Grey, as his heir, excluding his half-sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, declaring them illegitimate. This decision was disputed following Edward’s death, and Jane was deposed by Mary nine days after becoming queen. During her reign, Mary reversed Edward’s Protestant reforms, which, nonetheless, became the basis of the Elizabethan Religious Settlement of 1559.

There are a number of Tudor recipes extant, and in searching my files I came across a couple with an unfortunate name: farts of Portingale. The second part is easy enough. The term “of Portingale” means “in the style of Portugal.” The terms “farts” is the tricky one. The etymology is obscure but is not the same as the word for breaking wind. It is variously spelled “fertes” or “fartes.” The Oxford English Dictionary defines it as, “A tiny spherical titbit. A Whet, or Subtelty.” Recipes of the time are either for spheres of light sweetened pastry, or of minced mutton and fruit. Here’s a recipe for each.

From: A book of cookrye. Very necessary for all such as delight therin by “AW” (1591)

To make Farts of Portingale.

Take a quart of life Hony, and set it upon the fire and when it seetheth scum it clean, and then put in a certaine of fine Biskets well serced, and some pouder of Cloves, some Ginger, and powder of sinamon, Annis seeds and some Sugar, and let all these be well stirred upon the fire, til it be as thicke as you thinke needfull, and for the paste for them take Flower as finelye dressed as may be, and a good peece of sweet Butter, and woorke all these same well togither, and not knead it.

From: The Good Huswifes Handmaide for the Kitchin by Thomas Dawson (1594)

How to make Farts of Portingale.

TAKE a peece of a leg of Mutton, mince it smal and season it with cloues, mace pepper and salt, and dates minced with currans: then roll it into round rolles, and so into little balles, and so boyle them in a little beefe broth and so serue them foorth.

Jul 182017
 

On this date in 1555, Mary I granted the College of Arms a new house called Derby Place or Derby House and a new charter. The College is still more or less in the same place under much the same charter, although the College’s fortunes have come and gone over the years. The College of Arms, also known as the College of Heralds, is a royal corporation consisting of professional officers of arms, with jurisdiction over England, Wales, Northern Ireland and some Commonwealth countries. The heralds are appointed by the British Sovereign and are delegated authority to act on behalf of the Crown in all matters of heraldry, the granting of new coats of arms, genealogical research, and the recording of pedigrees. The College is also the official body responsible for matters relating to the flying of flags on land, and it maintains the official registers of flags and other national symbols. Though a part of the Royal Household of the United Kingdom, the College is self-financed, unsupported by any public funds. I have to say that I despise the hereditary monarchy, hereditary privilege and all their trappings, including heraldic design, flag duties and all the rest of it. But there was a time in my boyhood when heraldry held my interest, along with ancient calligraphy, historical naval uniforms, and a host of other more or less useless things that now clutter up the dusty attic of my brain.  So, I’ll give the College of Arms its day in the sun.

At one time the College of Arms was an extremely important body, because it was responsible for the validation of hereditary rights to titles and property, including the right to be king or queen of England. For Mary I this function of the College was of supreme importance, not only because she had been declared illegitimate by her father, Henry VIII, when he invalidated his marriage to her mother, Catherine of Aragon, but also because certain factions in England were intent on putting Lady Jane Grey on the throne instead of her, and heralds of the College of Arms had dutifully certified that Jane was the legitimate heir to the throne and not Mary. Mary had an army, most of the citizens of London, and other powerful factions on her side, and, so, won the day without too much trouble – beheading Jane and her supporters into the bargain for their troubles. The officers of the College were also, of course, in a certain amount of hot water for backing Jane instead of Mary, but they pleaded that they had been forced to act under threat of death, so Mary, in an uncharacteristic act of mercy, pardoned them, and gave them a new house and a new charter, no doubt assuming they would be on better behavior thereafter. The thing is that in the turbulent times of the Wars of the Roses (when the crown changed hands multiple times), followed by the reigns of the Tudors and then the Stuarts, the succession to the throne was constantly in doubt, and the support of the College of Arms was vital on many occasions.

The College of Arms was originally founded by royal charter in 1484 by King Richard III, the first year of his reign.  The College had several functions related to heraldry and genealogical claims. Richard’s royal charter outlines the constitution of the College’s officers, their hierarchy, the privileges conferred upon them and their jurisdiction over all heraldic matters in the kingdom of England. The College was also granted a house named Coldharbour (formerly Poulteney’s Inn) on Upper Thames Street in the parish of All-Hallows-the-Less, for storing records and living space for the heralds. The house, built by Sir John de Pulteney, four times Lord Mayor of London, was said to be one of the greatest in the City of London, testifying to the College’s importance as supporters of Richard’s claim to the throne and of his grants of titles to his allies.

Unfortunately for the College, Richard was defeated and killed at the Battle of Bosworth Field by Henry Tudor who was crowned Henry VII soon after the battle, inaugurating the troubled house of Tudor. Henry’s first Parliament of 1485 passed an Act of Resumption, in which large grants of crown properties made by Richard to his allies were cancelled, and Coldharbour was taken from the College and given to Henry’s mother, Lady Margaret Beaufort, for life. As a result, the heralds were left destitute and many of their books and records were lost. Nonetheless, the heralds’ position at the royal court remained, and they were compelled by Henry to attend him at all times (in rotation).

During the reign of Henry’s son, Henry VIII, the heralds were of supreme importance in a number of areas. Henry VIII was fond of pomp and magnificence, and thus gave the heralds plenty of opportunity to exercise their roles in his court. In addition, the members of the College were also expected to be regularly dispatched to foreign courts on missions, whether to declare war, accompany armies, summon garrisons or deliver messages to foreign potentates and generals. During his magnificent meeting with Francis I of France at the Field of the Cloth of Gold in 1520, Henry VIII brought with him 18 officers of arms, probably all he had, to regulate the many tournaments and ceremonies held there.

Nevertheless, the College’s petitions to the King and to the Duke of Suffolk in 1524 and 1533 for the return of their chapter house were rejected, and the heralds were left to hold chapter in whichever palace the royal court happened to be at the time. They even resorted to meeting at each other’s houses, at various guildhalls and even a hospital. It was also in this reign in 1530, that Henry VIII conferred on the College one of its most important duties for almost a century, the heraldic visitation. The provincial Kings of Arms were commissioned under a royal warrant to enter all houses and churches and given authority to deface and destroy all arms unlawfully used by any knight, esquire, or gentleman. Around the time of the Dissolution of the Monasteries this duty became even more necessary as the monasteries were previously repositories of local genealogical records. From then on, all genealogical records and the duty of recording them was subsumed by the College. These visitations were serious affairs, and many individuals were charged and heavily fined for breaking the law of arms. Hundreds of these visitations were carried out well into the 17th century; the last was in 1686.

And so we get to Mary I. Although it must have been embarrassing for both sides, after the heralds initially proclaimed the right of her rival Lady Jane Grey to the throne. When King Edward VI died on 6 July 1553, Lady Jane Grey was proclaimed queen four days later, first in Cheapside then in Fleet Street by two heralds, trumpets blowing before them. However, when popular support swung to Mary’s side, the Lord Mayor of London and his councils accompanied by the Garter King of Arms, two other heralds, and four trumpeters returned to Cheapside to proclaim Mary’s ascension as rightful queen instead. The College’s excuse was that they were compelled in their earlier act by the Duke of Northumberland (Lady Jane’s father-in-law, who was later executed), an excuse that Mary accepted.

Mary and her husband (and co-sovereign) Philip II of Spain then set about granting the College a new house called Derby Place or Derby House, under a new charter, dated 18 July 1555 at Hampton Court Palace. The charter stated that the house would: “enable them [the College] to assemble together, and consult, and agree amongst themselves, for the good of their faculty, and that the records and rolls might be more safely and conveniently deposited.” The charter also reincorporated the three kings of arms, six heralds and all other heralds and pursuivants, and their successors, into a corporation with perpetual succession.

Derby Place was situated in the parish of St Benedict and St Peter, south of St Paul’s Cathedral, more or less on the College’s present location. There are records of the heralds carrying out modifications to the structure of Derby Place over many years. However, little record of its appearance has survived, except the description that the buildings formed three sides of a quadrangle, entered through a gate with a portcullis on the west side. On the south range, roughly where Queen Victoria Street now stands, was a large hall on the western end. Derby Place’s hearth tax bill from 1663, discovered in 2009 at the National Archives at Kew, showed that the building had about thirty-two rooms, which were the workplace as well as the home to eleven officers of arms.

The College had its work cut out for it under the Tudors and Stuarts. Of the ruling monarchs, Mary I, Elizabeth I, Charles II, William III and Mary II, and Anne all died without direct heirs, and throughout Tudor and Stuart times, not to mention the Civil Wars, hereditary titles and property were in a constant state of flux. Under the Hanoverian Georges down to the present day, things in those quarters have been much more orderly and the College has gradually subsided into a largely ceremonial role (with ups and downs from time to time). Unless you are in danger of inheriting a castle from a distant relative, or you are intrigued by the archaic language and honors associated with coats of arms, this post will be about the sum total of your interest in, and knowledge of, the College of Arms.

Here’s 2 Tudor recipes for salmon.  It’s not rocket science to translate them into usable recipes for the modern kitchen:

Salmon Sallet for fish days From Thomas Dawson’s The Good Huswifes Jewell (1585, 1594, and 1596)

‘Salmon cut long waies with slices of onyons upon it layd and upon that to cast Violets, Oyle and Vineger’.

Here my main question is how the salmon is prepared first. I assume this is not a Tudor version of sashimi and that the salmon is cooked and then chilled before serving. I’d grill it with sliced onions, cool, then lay on violets, and sprinkle over oil and vinegar.

Salmon Rostyd in sauce  From Gentyll Manly Cokere, MS Pepys 1047 (c1490)

‘Samon rostyd in sause. Cut thy salmon in round pieces and roast it on a grid iron. Take wine and powder of cinnamon and draw them through a strainer. Add thereto onions minced small. Boil it well. Take vinegar or verjuice and powder of ginger and salt. Add thereto. Lay the salmon in dishes and pour the syrup thereon and serve forth’.

 

Apr 222017
 

Today is the birthday of Isabella I (Ysabel I) of Castile (1451 – 1504). She married Ferdinand II of Aragon and their marriage became the basis for the political unification of Spain under their grandson, Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. After a struggle to claim her right to the throne, she reorganized the governmental system, brought the crime rate to the lowest it had been in years, and unburdened the kingdom of the enormous debt her brother had left behind. Her reforms and those she made with Ferdinand had an influence that extended well beyond the borders of their united kingdoms. Isabella and Ferdinand are well known for completing the Reconquista, ordering the conversion or exile of their Muslim and Jewish subjects under the legendary Spanish Inquisition, and for supporting and financing Christopher Columbus’ 1492 voyage that led to the colonization of huge parts of the New World and to the establishment of Spain as the first global power which dominated Europe and much of the world for more than a century. The phrase “the sun never sets on the empire” was coined to describe the Spanish empire under Isabella’s great-grandson, Felipe II, and inherited only much later by the British.

With many celebrated (larger than life) historical figures such as Napoleon, Genghis Khan, etc. I always ask my students the deathless question: “(Fill in the blank); ‘Good Thing’ or ‘Bad Thing’?” I’m stealing from 1066 And All That, of course, and on the surface it’s a silly question. History is not black and white. I’m asking them to give considered answers in the vein of, “On the one hand . . . . on the other hand . . .” Well what about Isabella? Good Thing or Bad Thing? Your answer probably depends on your ethnic origins. If you’re Hispanic you’ll probably lean in favor of Good Thing, if you’re Jewish, Indigenous American, or Moorish – not so much. The thing is that Isabella is a towering figure in world history. She was not only tough minded, independent, and politically astute, she was also the progenitor of numerous monarchs and dynasties.

The most famous living descendants of Isabella I (and Ferdinand II) are probably the current European monarchs. First of all, the Kings of Spain are descended from their union, with their current major dynastic heir being King Felipe VI of Spain. However, it is also the case that all the other monarchs currently reigning in Europe – King Albert II of Belgium, Grand-Duke Henri of Luxembourg, Queen Elizabeth II of the U.K., Queen Margrethe II of Denmark, King Harald V of Norway, King Carl XVI Gustaf of Sweden, and King Willem-Alexander of the Netherlands – descend in some way or another from Isabella and Ferdinand. This is also true of the Sovereign Princes of Europe: Albert II, Prince of Monaco and Hans-Adam II, Prince of Liechtenstein. That’s leaving a pretty significant mark.

From the point of view of English history, Isabella’s daughter, Katherine, was first married to Henry VII’s eldest son Arthur, and then, when he died, was remarried to his second son Henry who became Henry VIII. Henry’s divorce from Katherine was, of course, the immediate cause of the English Reformation, and the ascent of their daughter, Mary I, Isabella’s granddaughter, the precipitating event leading to the bloody Counter-Reformation in England. Mary married Isabella’s great-grandson Felipe II (Mary’s first cousin once removed) but they had no children, hence that bloodline vanished. It’s always struck me as a tad ethnocentric (or xenophobic) of English history text books that Felipe is rarely acknowledged as an ACTUAL king of England. Admittedly he was king by marriage, and his reign lasted only whilst Mary was alive. But he was king – not royal consort, like Victoria’s Albert, or royal hanger-on like the current Greek guy. He was genuinely king of England (jure uxoris), and tried to make the title stick after Mary’s death by launching the famous Armada which came to a well-known miserable end. The current Elizabeth II is descended from Isabella via a different bloodline. And . . . just to muddy the waters further, Isabella was a direct descendant of the kings of England (including king John) via John of Gaunt. Not much hybrid vigor in the bloodlines in those days.

Isabella was first betrothed to Ferdinand at the age of 6, but subsequent complex royal machinations scotched that deal as she was offered around to numerous princes until, as an adult and heir presumptive, she got a (wobbly) agreement from her brother, Henry, king of Castile at the time, that she would not be forced to marry against her will.  In 1468 after Isabella refused a marriage proposal from Alfonso V of Portugal (backed by brother Henry), Isabella made a secret promise to marry her cousin and very first betrothed, Ferdinand of Aragon. On 18 October 1469, the formal betrothal took place. Because Isabella and Ferdinand were second cousins, they stood within the prohibited degrees of consanguinity and the marriage would not be legal unless a dispensation from the Pope was obtained. With the help of the Valencian cardinal Rodrigo Borgia (later Alexander VI), Isabella and Ferdinand were presented with a supposed papal bull by Pius II (who had actually died in 1464), authorizing Ferdinand to marry within the third degree of consanguinity, making their marriage legal. Afraid of opposition, Isabella eloped from the court of Henry with the excuse of visiting her brother Alfonso’s tomb in Ávila. Ferdinand, on the other hand, crossed Castile in secret disguised as a servant. They were married immediately upon reuniting, on 19 October 1469, in the Palacio de los Vivero in the city of Valladolid. It was both a successful union politically, and, by all accounts, a happy one – although one never really knows about such things. I’d (modestly) characterize the marriage as an uncharacteristically (for the time) equal partnership. It’s vital to remember that this was an era of very powerful female rulers in a patriarchal world. Many men found this out to their peril.

You can catch up on Isabella’s numerous achievements in standard histories.  How about her personality? Here we must be careful not to be anachronistic. For starters, Isabella was short but stocky with a very fair complexion, and had a hair color that was between strawberry-blonde and auburn. Some portraits, however, show her as a brunette. Her daughters, Joanna and Catherine, were thought to resemble her the most. Isabella maintained an austere, temperate lifestyle, and her devotion to Catholicism was the hallmark of her life. In spite of her political hostility towards the Muslims in Andalusia, she developed a taste for Moorish decor and style.

Her contemporaries were more or less unanimous concerning her temperament. Andrés Bernáldez said, “She was an endeavored woman, very powerful, very prudent, wise, very honest, chaste, devout, discreet, truthful, clear, without deceit. Who could count the excellences of this very Catholic and happy Queen, always very worthy of praises.” Hernando del Pulgar wrote, “She was very inclined to justice, so much so that she was reputed to follow more the path of rigor than that of mercy, and did so to remedy the great corruption of crimes that she found in the kingdom when she succeeded to the throne.” This is a telling quote. Obviously she was not an advocate of “the quality of mercy.” This point is echoed in the writings of     Lucio Marineo Sículo: “[The royal knight Alvaro Yáñez de Lugo] was condemned to be beheaded, although he offered forty thousand ducados for the war against the Moors to the court so that these monies spare his life. This matter was discussed with the queen, and there were some who told her to pardon him, since these funds for the war were better than the death of that man, and her highness should take them. But the queen, preferring justice to cash, very prudently refused them; and although she could have confiscated all his goods, which were many, she did not take any of them to avoid any note of greed, or that it be thought that she had not wished to pardon him in order to have his goods; instead, she gave them all to the children of the aforesaid knight.” There you go !!! Justice trumps mercy (even fiscal pragmatics). Quite the stalwart woman.

Here’s a recipe from a 15th century Catalan cookbook, Libre Del Coch by Mestre Robert. I know I’m being a bit free and easy with my regional recipe idea here. If I were an idiot I could claim that Catalonia is part of Spain these days, as is Castile and Aragon, and, therefore, this is an old “Spanish” recipe. I’m not that stupid. But Isabella’s marriage did lead to the unification of Spain, and when I look over historic recipes I see a great deal of overlap from region to region, not least because European royalty moved all over the place when they married and took their cooks and culinary ideas with them. At the aristocratic level, the household cuisines showed a great deal of homogeneity, with variations due in large part to the availability of ingredients. This recipe is for a casserole/stew of meat (probably lamb or mutton) with oranges. Bitter oranges were brought to Spain from China by the Moors and were (and are) prolific throughout Iberia. They are a common flavoring ingredient.  This kind of recipe is ancestral to a host of Spanish meat casseroles.

Naturally the recipe is completely vague as to quantity of ingredients, and even as to their precise nature. What do you make of “totes salses fines” for example? Fine herbs/spices? I’m thinking pepper, cloves, ginger, nutmeg, allspice – the usual suspects. Medieval linguistic skills are not my strong suit to begin with, let alone interpreting vague instructions in the dialect (that seems to drift between Old French and Old Spanish). Agresta was a type of verjuice (unripe grape or apple juice) used as a strong acidifier (you’ll note that the recipe suggests vinegar as an alternative), intensified further by the orange juice. I’ve given translating a go. My translation is extremely loose partly because I don’t recognize all the vocabulary, and partly for ease of reading.

Casola de Carn

Pren la carn e talla-la menut a troços axf com una nou. E çoffregiràs-la ab bona grassa de carnsalada. E quant sia ben çoffredida, met hi de bon brou e vaja a coure en una casola. Emet-hi de totes salses fines e çaffra e un poch de such de toronge o agresta, de manera que coga molt bé, fins a tant que la carn se commence a desfer e que y romanga solament hun poch de brou, pendràs tres o quatre ous debatuts ab such de toronges o agresta. E met-ho dins en la cassola. E quant ton senyor se volrà aseure en taula, dona-li quatre o sinch voltes girades, e tantost se espessirà. E quant sia bé espès, leva-u del foch e fes escudelles e damunt cada una met-hi canyella.

Emperò alters són qui no.y volen metre ous ni salsa sinó sola canyella e girofle. E coguen en la carn, com dit he damunt.

E met-hi vinagre, perquè tinga sabor. E per lo semblant molts fan açò que us dire, que tota la carn posen en una peça farcida de canyella e girofle sencer y en lo brou ben picades les salses, emperò far a girar adés adés, perquèno coga més d’una part que d’altra e axf no.y cal metre sinó girofle e canyella, emperò com dit he de bona manera.

Meat Casserole

Cut the meat into pieces the size of a nut and fry it in pork fat. When it is well fried put in some good broth and set it to cook in a casserole. Add all the fine flavorings and saffron and a little orange juice or agresta, and cook well until the meat begins to fall apart and only a small amount of broth remains. Add three or four eggs beaten with orange juice or agresta. When your master is ready at table, turn the meat four or five times to let the sauce thicken. When it is thick, take it from the fire and serve it in bowls, sprinkled with a little cinnamon on each.

There are some people who do not add eggs, or spices except cinnamon and cloves. The meat is cooked as stated above.

They add vinegar, for the flavor. It appears that many people do it in the following manner: the meat is left whole stuffed with cinnamon and cloves, and with the other spices in the broth. The meat has to be turned from time to time so that it doesn’t cook more in one part than in any other. You can leave out the cloves and cinnamon, as long as you follow the other directions correctly.

Have fun. When I get round to experimenting with this recipe I’ll do it in a big covered skillet on the stove top rather than in a casserole, because I have more control that way. Besides, even the word “casserole” gives me nightmares because as a teenager my mother used to make a week’s worth of casseroles on Sundays, because she got home late from work and did not have time to cook in the evenings, and my father, who was an excellent cook, never lifted a finger. I was just learning at that stage and might have contributed something if I had known what I was doing, and did not feel the constant need to play the indolent adolescent. No matter what went into each casserole they all came out the same – and all tasting a bit burnt from being in the oven too long. Scalded and burnt dish rag is about how I would describe the taste. Admittedly oven versus stove top is a tough call. Oven braising works well enough if you know what you are doing.

Jun 222013
 

Thomas More  Thomas More2
Today is the feast day of St Thomas More (1478 – 1535), perhaps more widely known (outside the Catholic church) as Sir Thomas More, English lawyer, social philosopher, author, statesman, and noted Renaissance humanist. He was an adviser to Henry VIII, until things went south between them, and was Lord Chancellor from October 1529 to 16 May 1532. He was canonized by Pope Pius XI in 1935 as one of the early martyrs of the schism that separated the Church of England from Rome in the 16th century.

More was the son of a prestigious London lawyer and went to the best schools.  Because of his father’s influence he became a page in the household of the Archbishop of Canterbury who nominated him for a place at Oxford University.  He excelled at the classics there before going to the Inns of Court to train as a lawyer.  His rise in politics and the royal court was meteoric, eventually becoming a close personal adviser to the king, along with holding high positions.  Were it not for Henry’s divorce from Catherine of Aragon and subsequent split with the Catholic church, life would have been rosy for More.  But More was an ardent supporter of the papacy and, though he tried to walk the razor’s edge with the king, found his personal faith at odds with royal politics.  He did acquiesce to the divorce and subsequent remarriage of the king to Anne Boleyn (although his absence from the wedding, on the flimsy excuse of ill health,  was not taken lightly).  Eventually he fell from grace and was executed for treason for refusing to accept that Henry was the head of the church, rather than the pope.

The contemporary opinion of More by historians is sharply divided.  There is no question that he was a man of his convictions and was willing to die for them rather than recant.  But it is not always obvious what those convictions were, and some of them do not sit well with modern scholars.  In his early years he was a noted humanist and close friend of Erasmus, arguably the greatest humanist of his day. More believed in equal education for men and women, and under his teaching his eldest daughter, Margaret, became a very proficient scholar of Greek and Latin, noted by many for her erudition.  More’s most famous work, Utopia, seems to be full of progressive ideas.  The book describes a fictional island where everyone is happy (Utopia is Greek for “happy place” but can also be translated as “nowhere”).  Jewels are considered worthless and are used only as children’s toys; everyone works equally and there are no positions of power; all property is held in common; men and women are equals; and, all religious ideas are tolerated.  It is not entirely clear whether the work is meant to be taken seriously as an ideal, or as a parody of these ideals.  Hints that it is a parody are sprinkled around.  For example, the narrator is called Hythlodaeus (Greek for “dispenser of nonsense”).

Counter to the views expressed in Utopia, More was far from tolerant of religious differences in his professional life.  As Lord Chancellor he ordered the works of Martin Luther, as well as William Tyndale’s English Bible, burnt, and condemned at least six men to be burnt at the stake as heretics for espousing Protestant views.  He saw Protestant theology as destructive to social order and unity, and wrote a number of vitriolic works condemning them.  No one is quite sure what happened to his former allegiance to humanism.  The best I can muster is that, like all thoughtful people, he was a complex man.  These days many people tend to write off his religious intolerance as the product of his times, and praise him for holding to his convictions, though they cost him his life. After his death Erasmus wrote that More was a man “whose soul was more pure than any snow, whose genius was such that England never had and never again will have its like”. Noted historian Hugh Trevor-Roper wrote in 1977 that More was “the first great Englishman whom we feel that we know, the most saintly of humanists, the most human of saints, the universal man of our cool northern renaissance.”

For recipes to honor Thomas More I thought I would change gears a little and dip into a cookbook that was published shortly after More’s death, and which certainly reflects recipes of his day: A Propre new booke of Cokery.  The recipes are all pretty basic and easy to follow if you are an experienced cook.  I present them here in their original form.  You should be able to interpret them easily enough if you sound the words out loud.  I was rather surprised to note the heavy use of saffron for flavoring in all manner of dishes. Obviously oriental spices were prohibitively expensive for most cooks on an everyday basis, so locally grown seasonings played a significant role, including some that are not so common any more, such as bergamot, rue, and borage.  Verjuice, was also a common ingredient; not much used in modern cookery until a recent renewed interest.  Verjuice (“vergis”) is made by pressing sour juices from unripe grapes or apples.  Some modern cooks use it in salad dressings to replace the vinegar because it is milder and does not clash with wines as much. It is readily available online. I tend to use lemon or lime juice as a substitute. The beans in the recipe here would have been fresh broad beans (fava beans). Sopps are slices of old bread used to mop up broths and sauces. The recipe for vautes is quite typical in its combination of meat, fruit, and spices.  In case it is not clear, these are omelets stuffed with a meat/fruit mixture bound with egg yolk.

Recipes from A Propre new booke of Cokery (1545)

To make a stewed brothe for Capons / mutton / biefe / or any other hote meate / and also a brothe for all manar of freshe fisshe

Take halfe a handfull of rosemary and as muche of tyme / and bynde it on a bundell with threde after it is washen / and put it in the pot / after that the pot is clene skynned / and lette it boile a while / then cut soppes of white bread and put them in a great charger and put on the same skaldynge broth / and whan it is soken ynough / strayne it through a strayner with a quantitie of wyne or good Ale / so that it be not to tarte / and when it is strayned / poure it in a pot and than put in your raysons and prunes and so let them boyle tyll the meate be inough. If the broath be to sweete / put in the more wyne / orels a lytell vyneger.

To frye Beanes

Take your Beanes and boyle them and put them into a fryenge pan with a disshe of butter & one or two onyons and so let them fry tyll they be browne all together / than cast a lytell salt upon them / & than serue them forth.

To make Vautes

Take the kidney of veale and perboile it till it be tender / then take and chop it smal with the yolkes of thre or four egges then ceason it with dates small cutte / small reysons / gynger suger synamon / saffron and a little salte / and for the paest to laye it in / take a dozen of egges bothe the white and the yolkes / and beate theim well all togyther then take butter and put it into a fryyng panne and frye theim as thyn as a pancake then laie your stuffe there in and so frye them togyther in a pan and cast suger and gynger vpon it and so serue it forth.