Showing posts with label Blackfriars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Blackfriars. Show all posts

Saturday, January 27, 2018

Searching for Blackfriars: The Lost World of Dominican Glory

By Nancy Bilyeau


"Catherine, queen of England, come into the court!"

It was the third call made by the crier, commanded by Henry VIII to stop the queen from leaving the tribunal court convened to inquire into the legality of their 20-year marriage. On that day, June 21, 1529, before a vast room occupied by two scarlet-clad cardinals, nobles of the realm and a throng of spectators, Catherine threw herself at the feet of the man who was desperate to divorce her in order to marry another woman.



Immortalized by Shakespeare, Queen Catherine said:
Sir, I desire you do me right and justice; and to bestow your pity on me; for I am a most poor woman, and a stranger; born out of your dominions; having here no judge indifferent, nor no more assurance of equal friendship and proceedings. Alas, Sir, in what way have I offended you? What cause hath my behavior given to your displeasure, that thus you should proceed to put me off, and take your good grace from me?
 After finishing her entreaty to an embarrassed and unmoved husband, Catherine rose, ignored the crier, saying,  "It matters not, this is no indifferent court for me. I will not tarry." And she left. When the queen reached the sight of the crowd of commoners gathered outside, they cheered for her, the sound of it wafting into the chamber she'd left behind.

It is an unforgettable scene, one that has shaken and moved me each time I read Catherine of Aragon's plea to be spared such a humiliating rejection. Perhaps it was the draw of such high drama--the cheers and cries and arguments of The Great Matter--that led me to search that section of London for the place where the royal confrontation took place: Blackfriars. But there is another reason too.

In my novels, The CrownThe Chalice, and The Tapestry, I write the stories through the eyes of a Dominican novice who lives at the priory of Dartford, in Kent. It was the sole house of Dominican sisters in the kingdom. But the largest male Dominican establishment in England--and one of the most prestigious in all of Europe--was the monastery of friars dubbed Blackfriars. In its vast complex, the upper frater building, 110 feet long and 52 feet wide with two-foot-thick stonewalls, had a second-storey room called the Parliamentary Chamber. Many important sessions of government were held there.

It's natural to be surprised that a friary would possess such a chamber; the medieval monarchs' respect for the large monastic orders--Dominicans, Benedictines, and Franciscans--is not much written about. The first followers of St Dominic arrived in England in 1221. Over the next 50 years, their influence, and their numbers, grew as, pledged to humility and poverty, they stayed in various churches. They were nicknamed "Blackfriars" because of the color of their robes.


Edward I
Edward I was the principal patron of the new Blackfriars friary in London. He made a gift of 200 marks in 1280 to raise the church; construction of all the buildings--cloister, frater, infirmary, chapel, dormitory, vestry, buttery, brewery--lasted at least 20 years. King Edward took its creation so seriously that he extended the western perimeter wall of the city of London so the friars could have more room. Their property extended from the Thames River to Ludgate; the friars, moreover, were not answerable to the mayor or any governmental officials of the city. They were a city within the city.

After the work was finished, King Edward I conducted state business in Blackfriars and even slept there on occasion. Did nights spent on a friar's pallet afford more peace for Edward Longshanks, the Hammer of the Scots? Perhaps.

The Dominicans were grateful to their patron, so much so that they staunchly defended his son, Edward II, when no one else did. After Edward II was deposed by his French wife and her allies, the Blackfriars were distrusted and blamed for a time and had to go into hiding.

Edward II coronation

There are no more instances of Dominicans'  dangerous interference with political affairs. On the property, houses were built and lent to those not affiliated with the friars. It became a fashionable place to live, known for its gardens. Sir William Kingston retired to Blackfriars precinct after his years of service managing the Tower of London, dealing with such prisoners as King Henry's second wife, Anne Boleyn. The Parr family also had a house in Blackfriars, and Henry VIII's sixth wife, also named Catherine, was born there in 1512. 

When the end came in the 1530s and Henry VIII, denied his divorce by Rome, declared himself head of the Church of England, the Dominicans did not martyr themselves, like the Carthusian monks. The prior, John Hilsey, surrendered Blackfriars without any known objection in November 1538. The 15 friars living there were ejected and the friary officially closed. For his cooperation, Prior Hilsey received a pension of 60 pounds for the rest of his life and could stay in prior's lodgings, which included larders, buttery, kitchen, storeroom, cellar, gallery and other parcels.


Blackfriars as Elizabethan playhouse
Throughout the rest of the 16th century, the buildings and gardens of Blackfriars were sold to various courtiers. Large structures were broken up; later, some of the halls were put back together to become a playhouse for Shakespeare and other Elizabeth playwrights. In the Great Fire of London, that building was destroyed.

I knew very well that nothing of Blackfriars remained when I visited London in the summer of 2011 to research my novel, The Chalice. But it was hard to believe. It had functioned as more than a friary and parliamentary-session house, it was a palace. When Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, visited his aunt, Catherine of Aragon, he stayed not in any of Henry VIII's castles but in the guesthouse of Blackfriars. 

I bought some historical maps and guidebooks at the fantastic bookstore at Museum of London. Armed with my research suggesting some bits and pieces of the medieval complex remained, I headed for the neighborhood early in the evening. I took the underground to--what else?--the Blackfriars station.




I walked the neighborhood, my backpack, stuffed with books growing heavier by the minute. It's not really a tourist area, and the financial workers, ties loosened, drinking beer outside a shiny pub, glanced at me, bemused, as I rounded their corner yet again, a map of the city in my hand.

Tired and hungry, I was about to give up when I heard something very strange on a deserted side street. It was singing, a beautiful hymn of some sort. I followed the sound of their voices to a set of stairs leading up. At the top was a small, leafy courtyard park, and a group of 20 middle-aged men and women gathered, singing. A priest stood by.

I learned that this day, July 26, was St Anne's Day, and they sang to honor her, the mother of the Virgin Mary. I sat on a bench and listened to their program. At twilight, I got up to leave, and saw a scrap of low stone wall and near it a line of centuries' old tombstones on the edge of the park pavement. 

They were the graves of friars of the Dominican Order. The Church of St. Anne was built in 1550, twelve years after the surrender, to serve as the house of worship for those still living in the precinct. One thing they did was gather and protect some of the graves.




I had found Blackfriars.

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Touchstone/US
Orion Books/UK
Nancy Bilyeau's trilogy of historical novels are set during the Dissolution of the Monasteries. Published in nine countries, they follow the life of a Dominican novice named Joanna Stafford. The second novel, The Chalice, won the award from RT Reviews for Best Historical Mystery. For more information, go to www.nancybilyeau.com



Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Blog Hop: Christmas After the Priory



Hello and welcome to a special Christmas Day hop! Organized by Helen Hollick, more than 20 historical authors are sharing snippets of their work. Details about the hop and links to their wonderful stories are below.

My series of historical thrillers tell the story of Joanna Stafford, a Dominican novice struggling to survive the turbulent reign of Henry VIII. This excerpt comes from the second novel in my series, The Chalice. It is Christmas 1538. Sister Joanna and her fellow nuns and the friars have lost their home--Dartford Priory was demolished as part of the Dissolution of the Monasteries--and they are trying to make new lives. It's difficult ... and it's dangerous.

And here is my snippet: some faith, some history, and some suspense - and a bit of romance too :)
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The Chalice, Chapter 33:

At Mass on Christmas Day, there was not an empty seat to be found in Holy Trinity Church. The church had been stripped of its adornments, its beautiful images painted over, but something significant was added: long wooden pews. As Father William Mote told the story of Our Savior with as much vigor as he was capable of, I sat in a pew halfway down the middle of the church, next to Arthur and Sister Winifred, with Brother Edmund on the other side. We were no longer relegated to the chantries chapel.

But then there was the chain.

As Father William expounded, he stood next to it--a platform nailed to the altar and, attached to that platform by a long and heavy chain, the first English translation of the Great Bible, written by Myles Coverdale. "I am exhorted by Lord Privy Seal Cromwell to gently and charitably exhort you to read this Bible for yourselves," Father William announced to us two Sundays ago.

Ironically, the only parishioner  who made it his business to study Coverdale's Bible was Brother Edmund. "I do not fear the Scriptures and will not be corrupted by misinterpretation," Brother Edmund reassured Sister Eleanor, who begged him not to put himself at risk. Faulty translation from the Latin, leading to heretical belief, is what we Catholics feared. After a few days of reading, he commented, "Coverdale acquits himself well. He was an Augustinian, after all."

My problem was not with the book itself but the chain. Every time I looked at it, I feared I was being dragged back to London, to the court and prison and scaffold of King Henry VIII. As I listened to Father William's sermon, I put both my hands around my throat and closed my eyes.

When Mass was finished, Brother Edmund asked, "Sister Joanna, may I have your assistance in the infirmary for a short time?"

"Of course," I said. My little cousin Arthur, excited about the coming feast, skipped off with Sister Winifred. We had pooled our pence and purchased mutton so that Sister Winifred could make a mince pie.

Brother Edmund's small infirmary on the High Street, tidily kept and stocked with potions, pills, plasters and herbs, was empty. As Brother Edmund lit a small fire in the back, I thought it was doubtful that someone from town would require the services of an apothecary on Christmas Day.

"Sister Joanna, I must speak to you in confidence about something important," he said, gesturing to the stools set next to his oak work table.

"Yes, Brother?" My breath quickened. I wanted to be important to Brother Edmund.

He pulled his stool close to mine so that we were inches apart. I had not been alone with him since I reached for his hands in the calefactorium at Blackfriars, in London.

He said, "I must know if you have noticed anyone following you."

I drew back, surprised. "What do you mean?"

Running those hands through his ash-blond hair, he said, "I believe that someone watches me. I see a shadow in the doorway and turn--the shadow is gone. It could be anyone, not a man following me. But the last time it occurred, when I heard the footsteps, I slipped between two shops and waited. No one appeared for a very long time, and then it was the butcher and son. The man had been clever enough to know what I was doing and turned back."

I stared at Brother Edmund, struggling to take it all in.

"Are you absolutely sure that no one watches you?" he pressed.

"I cannot be sure, of course, but no, I've..." the words died in my throat as a most fearful speculation took hold.

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And that is all for my blog hop!

Note: I traveled to London and Dartford to research my novels. I went inside the same Holy Trinity Church where the characters worshiped in the chapter you just read. The church was built in the year 1080 and still stands in Dartford:


Holy Trinity Church, Dartford


If you would like to read more about Joanna Stafford, please enter the giveaway contest for the first book in my series, The Crown. It was an Oprah magazine pick in 2012. The review said: "Bilyeau deftly weaves extensive historical detail throughout, but the real draw of this suspenseful novel is its juicy blend of lust, murder, conspiracy and betrayal."



If you would like a free signed copy of The Crown, leave your name and email address in the comments below. The book can be shipped anywhere in North America.

Now, carry on with the Blog Hop, set to go on December 20th


1. Helen Hollick : “You are Cordially Invited to a Ball” (plus a giveaway prize) -  http://tinyurl.com/nsodv78  
2. Alison Morton : "Saturnalia surprise - a winter party tale”  (plus a giveaway prize) - http://tinyurl.com/op8fz57
3. Andrea Zuvich : No Christmas For You! The Holiday Under Cromwell - http://tinyurl.com/pb9fh3m
4. Ann Swinfen : Christmas 1586 – Burbage’s Company of Players Celebrates - http://tinyurl.com/mwaukkx
5. Anna Belfrage :  All I want for Christmas - http://tinyurl.com/okycz3o
6. Carol Cooper : How To Be A Party Animal - http://wp.me/p3uiuG-Mn
7. Clare Flynn :  A German American Christmas - http://tinyurl.com/mmbxh3r
8. Debbie Young :  Good Christmas Housekeeping - http://tinyurl.com/mbnlmy2
9. Derek Birks :  The Lord of Misrule - A Medieval Christmas Recipe for Trouble - http://wp.me/p3hedh-3f
10. Edward James : An Accidental Virgin and An Uninvited Guest -  http://tinyurl.com/o3vowum and - http://tinyurl.com/lwvrxnx 
11. Fenella J. Miller : Christmas on the Home front (plus a giveaway prize) - http://tinyurl.com/leqddlq
12. J. L. Oakley :  Christmas Time in the Mountains 1907 (plus a giveaway prize) - http://tinyurl.com/qf6mlnl
13. Jude Knight : Christmas at Avery Hall in the Year of Our Lord 1804 - http://wp.me/p58yDd-az
14. Julian Stockwin: Join the Party - http://tinyurl.com/n8xk946  
15. Juliet Greenwood : Christmas 1914 on the Home Front (plus a giveaway) - http://tinyurl.com/q6e9vnp
16. Lauren Johnson :  Farewell Advent, Christmas is come - Early Tudor Festive Feasts - http://tinyurl.com/mmclaey
17. Lucienne Boyce :  A Victory Celebration - http://tinyurl.com/ovl4sus
18. Lindsay Downs: O Christmas Tree O Christmas Tree http://lindsaydowns-romanceauthor.weebly.com/
19. Nicola Moxey : The Feast of the Epiphany, 1182 - http://tinyurl.com/pewcu6f
20. Peter St John:  Dummy’s Birthday - http://tinyurl.com/nsqedvv
21. Regina Jeffers : Celebrating a Regency Christmas  (plus a giveaway prize) - http://tinyurl.com/pt2yvzs
22. Richard Abbott : The Hunt – Feasting at Ugarit - http://tinyurl.com/o9vhn8m
23. Saralee Etter : Christmas Pudding -- Part of the Christmas Feast - http://tinyurl.com/lyd4d7b
24. Stephen Oram : Living in your dystopia: you need a festival of enhancement… (plus a giveaway prize) - http://wp.me/p4lRC7-aG
25. Suzanne Adair :The British Legion Parties Down for Yule 1780 - http://tinyurl.com/oc5496a


Thank you for joining us 

Saturday, June 21, 2014

The Plea of Catherine of Aragon

On June 21, 1529, Catherine of Aragón knelt before her husband in front of two cardinals and the nobility of England and begged him not to proceed with the annulment of their 20-year-long marriage.



Henry VIII informed his Spanish wife two years earlier that his conscience troubled him, that he believed their lack of male heirs proved that God was displeased by their union. In marrying Catherine, his older brother's widow, he claimed he violated Old Testament law.

Catherine, five years older than Henry VIII, was, quite simply, not having it. The proud daughter of Isabella of Castile and Ferdinand of Aragón insisted her marriage was legally valid and refused to cooperate with her second husband's effort to annul the marriage. We can only assume that her discovery that King Henry was passionately in love with a younger woman of the court, a charismatic commoner named Anne Boleyn, hardened her resolve even further. Catherine and Henry had produced a daughter, the accomplished Princess Mary, and in eyes of the queen--as well as a significant portion of the nobility--Mary was a perfectly acceptable heiress to the throne.

Cardinal Campeggio eventually made his way to England to hear the case, along with English Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, in an ecclesiastical court held in Blackfriars, the magnificent priory of the Dominican friars in London. Blackfriars itself has long fascinated me. I set several chapters of my second novel The Chalice inside its walls. On a trip to London I spent hours trying to find a trace of it. (Read the blog post here.)

But for the purposes of this post, I'd like to pay tribute to Catherine's decision to kneel before Henry and beg for her marriage and her rights. The king was surprised, dismayed, and twice tried to raise her to her feet. She would not do so. She was determined to have her say.

Shakespeare re-created this moving and powerful scene in his play Henry VIII, which I saw performed in Central Park almost 20 years ago. The bard embellished historical record only slightly. What follows is quite close to what Catherine said, according to contemporary records:


QUEEN CATHERINE
Sir, I desire you do me right and justice;
And to bestow your pity on me: for
I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,
Born out of your dominions; having here
No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir,
In what have I offended you? what cause
Hath my behavior given to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off,
And take your good grace from me?
Heaven witness,I have been to you a true and humble wife,
At all times to your will conformable;
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,
Yea, subject to your countenance, glad or sorry
As I saw it inclined: when was the hour
I ever contradicted your desire,
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends
Have I not strove to love, although I knew
He were mine enemy? what friend of mine
That had to him derived your anger, did I
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice
He was from thence discharged. Sir, call to mind
That I have been your wife, in this obedience,
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest
With many children by you: if, in the course
And process of this time, you can report,
And prove it too, against mine honour aught,
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty,
Against your sacred person, in God's name,
Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt
Shut door upon me, and so give me up
To the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you sir,
The king, your father, was reputed for
A prince most prudent, of an excellent
And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand,
My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one
The wisest prince that there had reign'd by many
A year before: it is not to be question'd
That they had gather'd a wise council to them
Of every realm, that did debate this business,
Who deem'd our marriage lawful: wherefore I humbly
Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may
Be by my friends in Spain advised; whose counsel
I will implore: if not, i' the name of God,
Your pleasure be fulfill'd!

Of course it did not work. Henry VIII would not be deterred. Catherine was eventually banished from court and Henry married Anne Boleyn. Queen Catherine suffered anguish, depression and fear over her shattered marriage. Yet she never wavered. The queen died of a painful illness, abandoned, in January 1536.

I have been married 21 years to my husband, and, for that and many other reasons, I take a moment today to salute a woman who fought for her rights, her throne, and her daughter.