Mary Was Dead - But Elizabeth Insisted This Was Not What She Had Intended

Mary Was Dead - But Elizabeth Insisted This Was Not What She Had Intended

On the 8th of February 1587, Mary, Queen of Scots was executed at Fotheringhay Castle.

Elizabeth I had signed Mary's death warrant only a week earlier, on the 1st of February. But when she learned that the execution had actually taken place, she responded with anger and presented herself as deeply distressed.

This is where the story becomes particularly difficult to untangle.

Elizabeth had hesitated for months over Mary's fate. Executing an anointed queen was an enormous step, and Mary was also the mother of James VI of Scotland. Keeping Mary alive presented one set of dangers, but killing her could create an entirely different political problem.

After Elizabeth signed the warrant, it was passed under the Great Seal. Davison then brought the matter before senior members of the Privy Council, who decided to proceed. On the 3rd of February, Robert Beale was commissioned to carry the warrant to Fotheringhay.

By the 8th of February, Mary was dead.

Elizabeth then maintained that events had gone further than she intended.

Davison suffered heavily in the aftermath. He was sent to the Tower and later tried in the Star Chamber, where he was fined 10,000 marks. Although he was eventually released, his active career at court was effectively over.

But Elizabeth now had to deal with Mary's son.

On the 14th of February, she wrote to James VI of Scotland. In that letter, Elizabeth expressed her grief and insisted that his mother's execution had happened contrary to her intention.

Exactly how far Elizabeth intended the signed warrant to lead directly to Mary's execution remains disputed.

What we do know is that within days of Mary's death, Elizabeth was insisting that events had not unfolded as she had meant them to.

Do you think Elizabeth genuinely believed her councillors had gone too far, or was she trying to distance herself from Mary's execution afterwards?

Image: Elizabeth I, the Armada Portrait, c.1588, artist unknown. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

By the Winter of 1944, Hunger Was Tightening Its Grip on the Channel Islands

By the Winter of 1944, Hunger Was Tightening Its Grip on the Channel Islands

For years, the people of the Channel Islands had lived with rationing, shortages and the need to make do under German occupation. By 1944, though, the situation was becoming much more serious.

The islands depended heavily on supplies from outside, and throughout much of the occupation food had continued to arrive from France. Then came the Allied landings in Normandy on the 6th of June 1944.

As Allied forces advanced through France, those supply routes were gradually cut.
By August, the Channel Islands were effectively isolated.

Food was becoming desperately scarce. Gas and electricity supplies were increasingly unreliable, fuel was difficult to obtain and the remaining food had to be stretched further and further.

People used whatever substitutes they could find.

Parsnips could be turned into cake. Bramble leaves could make a substitute for tea. Salt became so difficult to get that seawater was sometimes used to cook vegetables.

Bartering became increasingly important too. Eggs, vegetables and other items could be exchanged for things that were no longer available in the shops.

By late 1944, the shortages were becoming dangerous.

The German garrison was also cut off from its normal supplies, while thousands of civilians still remained on the islands. Eventually, negotiations allowed humanitarian aid to be brought in by the International Red Cross.
On the 27th of December 1944, the Swedish-flagged SS Vega, chartered by the International Committee of the Red Cross, arrived at Guernsey carrying desperately needed food and medical supplies.

After unloading in Guernsey, she continued to Jersey at the end of December.

Among the Red Cross parcels were things many islanders had scarcely seen for years: tea, sugar, milk powder, butter, biscuits, chocolate, tinned meat and fish.

After years of rationing and making do, these were foods many families had rarely been able to get.

The Vega returned several more times during the final months of the occupation, bringing further food and medical supplies to the islands.

When we think about occupation, it is easy to picture soldiers, bunkers and barbed wire. But much of the hardship happened quietly, inside ordinary homes, where families had to work out how to make one more meal from whatever they had left.

Can you imagine opening one of those Red Cross parcels after years of shortages?

Image info:
Guernsey communal feeding centre, May 1945. National Archives and Records Administration / Wikimedia Commons. Public Domain.

William Had Landed -Then He Waited for Harold to Come to Him

William Had Landed -Then He Waited for Harold to Come to Him

By the time Harold Godwinson began making his way south, William of Normandy was already establishing himself in Sussex.

William had landed at Pevensey on the 28th of September 1066, just three days after Harold’s victory at Stamford Bridge. His men established a temporary fortification within the old Roman defences there before William moved east towards Hastings.

At Hastings, another castle was established and the town became William’s base. From there, his army began taking provisions from the surrounding countryside. An invading force needed huge amounts of food. Thousands of men had to be fed, horses needed fodder and supplies brought across the sea could only last for so long.

The countryside around Hastings suffered badly. Farms were plundered and property was destroyed as William’s army secured what it needed. Historians have suggested that this destruction may also have helped provoke Harold into coming south and confronting the invaders.

William certainly had good reason to want a battle sooner rather than later. Remaining in Sussex for weeks would have brought its own dangers. Supplies could begin to run short, and sickness might spread through the army.

Harold was in a very different position. He was fighting in his own kingdom and had the possibility of gathering more troops if he waited.

After defeating Harald Hardrada and his own brother Tostig at Stamford Bridge, Harold returned south and paused in London, where more men joined him. English accounts suggest that Harold had not assembled all the forces potentially available to him before confronting William.

By the evening of the 13th of October, the two armies were close to one another.

Less than three weeks earlier, Harold had defeated another invading army in Yorkshire. Now another claimant to the English throne was waiting for him in Sussex.

On the morning of the 14th of October 1066, the Battle of Hastings was about to begin.

Do you think Harold should have waited longer for more men, or was confronting William quickly the right decision?

Image: Detail from the Bayeux Tapestry, 11th century. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

A British Commando Raiding Party Landed on Sark in Darkness - Their Raid Would Soon Become Part of a Much Wider Wartime Dispute

A British Commando Raiding Party Landed on Sark in Darkness - Their Raid Would Soon Become Part of a Much Wider Wartime Dispute

On the night of the 3rd-4th of October 1942, a twelve-man raiding party from the Small Scale Raiding Force, also known as No. 62 Commando, with men from No. 12 Commando, approached the occupied Channel Island of Sark by sea. Their mission, codenamed Operation Basalt, was not to liberate the island. They were there to gather information and, if possible, capture German soldiers who could be taken back to Britain for interrogation.

Led by Major Geoffrey Appleyard, the raiders came ashore beneath the Hog’s Back and climbed the steep rocks above Dixcart Bay under cover of darkness. Once on the island, they made their way inland and entered a house called La Jaspellerie.

There they met Frances Pittard, a Sark resident who was able to give them useful information about the German forces on the island. She directed them towards the Dixcart Hotel, where German soldiers were staying.

The Commandos moved towards the hotel, where a German sentry was killed before the raiders went into the building. Five German soldiers were taken prisoner, their hands were tied, and the Commandos began moving them back towards the coast.

The exact sequence of what happened next has been described slightly differently in surviving accounts. The prisoners started resisting and trying to raise the alarm. By the time the Commandos withdrew, two of the prisoners had been killed, two had escaped and only one was taken back to Britain. Together with the sentry, three German soldiers had died during the raid.

The British party made it back to the coast and discovered that their boat was beyond its planned departure time. They escaped from Sark with their remaining prisoner and returned to Britain.

Operation Basalt also became part of a much wider dispute over the treatment of prisoners during commando raids.

Two weeks later, on the 18th of October 1942, Hitler issued the Commando Order, ordering that Allied personnel encountered on commando missions in Europe or Africa were to be killed, even if they attempted to surrender.

Operation Basalt was over within a few hours. What happened afterwards showed just how serious the consequences of these small commando raids could become.

Had you heard of Operation Basalt before, or did you know a British commando raiding party secretly returned to the occupied Channel Islands during the war?

Image info:

German soldiers in the British Channel Islands, 1940–45. Photographer unknown. Public domain. Via Wikimedia Commons.

Just Before Midnight, a Reservoir Above Sheffield Gave Way - and the Water Swept Through Homes Below

Just Before Midnight, a Reservoir Above Sheffield Gave Way - and the Water Swept Through Homes Below

On the night of the 11th of March 1864, families across Sheffield and the surrounding valleys were settling down for the night. Several miles away, however, something was badly wrong with the enormous new reservoir at Dale Dyke. A crack had already been noticed in the dam.

The reservoir had been built by the Sheffield Waterworks Company as the rapidly growing town needed an increasing supply of water. By March 1864 it was filling, holding an immense quantity of water above the Loxley Valley.

Shortly before midnight, part of the embankment gave way. Around 114 million cubic feet of water escaped and surged down the valley towards Sheffield.

The flood struck communities including Low Bradfield, Loxley and Malin Bridge before continuing towards Hillsborough and Sheffield itself. People were caught in their homes as houses, workshops and bridges were overwhelmed.

The official death toll recorded by Sheffield’s Chief Constable was 240. Around 4,000 houses were flooded, about 100 buildings were destroyed and 15 bridges were lost. Surviving records suggest that the true number of people who died may have been slightly higher.

What I find particularly haunting is what survives in the compensation records. People claimed for clothes, furniture, tools and household belongings - ordinary belongings that tell us something about the people whose lives were turned upside down that night.

Around 7,000 claims were eventually made for damaged property, lost livelihoods, injuries and deaths.

An inquiry followed, but exactly why the dam failed has remained the subject of debate. The official investigation criticised aspects of its design and construction, but engineers and historians have continued to debate exactly what triggered the collapse.

The Great Sheffield Flood became one of the worst civilian disasters of the Victorian period, yet I do not think it is remembered nearly as widely as many other disasters from the era.

Had you heard of the Great Sheffield Flood before, or is this one of those pieces of Victorian history that was completely new to you?

Image: Remains of the Dale Dyke reservoir embankment following the Great Sheffield Flood, 1864. Photographer unknown. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Two Weeks After Guernsey Was Occupied, British Commandos Came Back in the Dark.

Two Weeks After Guernsey Was Occupied, British Commandos Came Back in the Dark

I had not realised quite how quickly Britain tried to strike back after Guernsey was occupied.

German forces arrived on the island on the 30th of June 1940. Just two days later, Winston Churchill was already asking for plans to be made for a raid on the newly occupied Channel Islands.

The recently formed British Commandos seemed ideal for the job.

Before the main raid, however, intelligence had to be gathered.

In the early hours of the 8th of July, Hubert Nicolle, a Guernseyman serving as an officer in the Hampshire Regiment, was secretly landed on his home island from the submarine HMS H43.

Nicolle spent three days gathering information about the German garrison before being collected and taken back to Britain.

Then came Operation Ambassador.

During the night of the 14th-15th of July 1940, about 140 men from H Troop of No. 3 Commando and No. 11 Independent Company set out for Guernsey.

The plan included attacking the airfield, destroying aircraft and buildings and capturing members of the German garrison.

Almost immediately, things began going wrong.

Faulty compasses and problems with some of the boats disrupted the landings. One party missed Guernsey altogether and ended up on Little Sark.

Only around 40 men from No. 3 Commando successfully reached Guernsey, landing at Telegraph Bay, just west of the Jerbourg Peninsula.

Once ashore, they found something they had not expected.

The barracks and machine-gun position they searched were empty.

The Commandos created a small roadblock and cut communication lines, but the larger attack never developed.

Getting away caused another problem.

When the men returned to the coast, their boats could not get close to the rocky beach. Most of the Commandos eventually had to swim out through the darkness to reach them.

Three men who were not strong enough swimmers to make the difficult journey were left behind exhausted. They were later captured.

A fourth man, Gunner James McGoldrick, was initially reported missing and presumed drowned during the confused withdrawal. He had actually survived and reached the island, where he too was captured. Four British servicemen from the raid therefore became prisoners of war.

Operation Ambassador failed to achieve its main objectives, but it took place at a remarkably early stage in the development of Britain’s Commando forces.

The raid exposed problems with planning, navigation, equipment and training, and the experience became part of the lessons learned as British Commando operations developed.

What struck me most was the speed of it all.

Guernsey had been occupied for barely two weeks when British troops were already trying to return.

Had you heard of Operation Ambassador before?

Have a cuppa and let’s discover history together.

Image credit: British Army Commandos in a landing craft during training in Scotland, 28th of February 1942. War Office official photograph, Imperial War Museums H 17472. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

Mary, Queen of Scots Had Been a Queen Since She Was Six Days Old. On the 8th of February 1587, She Walked to the Scaffold.

Mary, Queen of Scots Had Been a Queen Since She Was Six Days Old. On the 8th of February 1587, She Walked to the Scaffold.

Over my last few Tudor posts I have been following the events that eventually led to the death of Mary, Queen of Scots. I have looked at the plots surrounding Elizabeth I, Mary’s trial at Fotheringhay and the warrant Elizabeth finally signed.

On the morning of the 8th of February 1587, Mary was executed.

She was 44 years old. Mary had become Queen of Scots when she was only six days old, had also been Queen of France and had spent almost nineteen years in England under increasingly close confinement.

Her execution took place in the Great Hall at Fotheringhay Castle.

Even at the scaffold there was disagreement over religion. Richard Fletcher, the Dean of Peterborough, was there to conduct Protestant prayers, but Mary made it clear that she intended to die in the Catholic faith and continued with prayers of her own.

When Mary’s outer clothing was removed, red clothing was revealed underneath. Red was associated with Catholic martyrdom, and this part of her clothing has often been interpreted in that context, although we cannot know for certain what Mary herself intended by wearing it.

The execution was not completed with a single stroke. A contemporary account preserved among the papers of Henry Grey, Earl of Kent, records that it took two strokes of the axe.

Robert Wingfield, who witnessed the execution and later wrote an account of what he had seen, recorded another detail that I had not known before researching this.

After Mary’s death, a small dog was discovered hidden amongst her clothing. According to Wingfield’s account, the dog would not leave her body and and had to be taken away and washed.

Mary’s story did not quite end at Fotheringhay.

Elizabeth I died without children in 1603, and the man who inherited the English crown was James VI of Scotland - Mary, Queen of Scots’ son. He became James I of England.

Sixteen years after Mary’s execution, her son was sitting on Elizabeth’s throne.

Did you know that Mary’s son eventually succeeded Elizabeth I?

Image: The Execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, Alexandre-Denis Abel de Pujol, 19th century. Musée des Beaux-Arts de Valenciennes, via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.