Æthelred the Unready: Lost in Translation?

Translation has always caused issues in history. At the height of the Cold War in 1963, US President John F. Kennedy made a speech in Berlin where he aimed to demonstrate his country’s empathy for the plight of the city’s people following the construction of the Berlin Wall by the USSR. Kennedy closed his speech with the line “Ich bin ein Berliner”. Unfortunately JFK had just informed the crowd that he was a jelly doughnut.

Another man whose reputation has suffered from poor translation is Æthelred the Unready, King of the English from 978 to 1013 and then again from 1014 until 1016. Æthelred came from a family of exceptional sobriquets being the son of Edgar the Peaceful, brother of Edward the Martyr and father of both Edmund Ironside and Edward the Confessor and it’s fair to say that he lost out compared to his relatives. Before I drown in a sea of future blog subjects it’s important to note that Æthelred’s infamous nickname does not mean not ready. “Unready” is in fact a mistranslation of the Old English word “unræd” meaning badly counselled. Unfortunately for Æthelred this mistranslation has somewhat tarnished his reputation.

Part of the confusion regarding Æthelred’s moniker comes from his path to the throne. His father’s unexpected death in 975 left the throne in the hands of his brother Edward who was around thirteen years old and rumoured to be illegitimate. Edward’s brief reign was marred by the political wrangling of the leading English lords culminating in his assassination in 978. This handed Æthelred the throne and the difficult task of managing a country rife with suspicion about the new king - hardly unexpected when members of his household were responsible for Edward’s murder and escaped prosecution.

Æthelred, armed in case any of his brother's mates turn up.

Fratricidal companions aside Æthelred’s ascension to the throne was received positively by the majority of the English nobility. Unfortunately for the new king news of his coronation was equally well received by the Danish who set about raiding the English coast for the first time since Edgar the Peaceful’s reconquest of the Danelaw, an area stretching from the Scottish border to Essex, in the mid-10^th Century. Although these raids were relatively inconsequential to England they brought Æthelred into direct conflict with the increasingly powerful Normans who regularly provided safe harbour for returning Danish ships. Although Pope John XV managed to broker a peace treaty between the English and the Normans in 991 this only led to further Danish attention

By the end of 991 the Danish raiders had inflicted a range of crushing defeats on the English and Æthelred had been forced to buy peace from his Scandinavian visitors. Despite this the raids continued and by 994 a considerably larger Danish fleet sailed up the Thames Estuary for London. With skirmishes in the Thames resolving little Æthelred met with leaders of the fleet and arranged for further tribute to be paid. Æthelred clearly got on well with his adversaries as he stood as sponsor for Olaf Tryggvason at his confirmation ceremony in Andover later that year. Then again this might have been Æthelred making sure Olaf made a speedy exit from English shores.

A silver coin from the reign of Æthelred the Unready - last seen in the pockets of Olaf Tryggvason.

Despite Æthelred’s relative success with Olaf the Danish raids began again in 997 and ravaged the English coast on regular occasions with the English again arranging a Danegeld payment of £24,000 in 1002. This clearly proved to be the final straw for Æthelred and on November 13^th, or St Brice’s day for fans of obscure saints, he ordered the massacre of all Danish men in England. In reality this had little impact in many areas of England due to the strength of the Danish population but victims of this brutal order included Gunhilde, the sister of the Danish king Sweyn Forkbeard - another exceptional sobriquet although one lacking much need of explanation.

The imaginatively named Sweyn Forkbeard.

Between 1004 and 1012 there were various clashes along the English coast with Æthelred forking out increasingly large sums of money to keep Sweyn’s forces away. In 1013 Sweyn launched an invasion of England. By this stage Æthelred’s resistance had disintegrated and he was exiled to Normandy. His stay in France was not long, however, as Sweyn died unexpectedly in February 1014 and Æthelred rallied his troops to launch a campaign buoyed by the English nobility’s promises to restore him to his throne. The campaign was an unmitigated disaster as Sweyn’s heir, Cnut, seized control of much of England. During his defence of London in 1016 Æthelred died and his son Edumund Ironside’s forces were swiftly defeated.

Æthelred’s reign would have been challenging for the most able of rulers let alone for a thirteen year old boy swept to the throne by the murder of his brother. In modern English it is undeniable that he was “unready” to rule a divided kingdom in an era of Danish naval and military dominance. As for the Old English it is difficult to say whether Æthelred was poorly counselled or “unræd” considering the circumstances. Paying the Danegeld had been a regular burden of Europe’s kings from the advent of Viking raids in the 9^th Century and by doing so Æthelred protected England from some of the Danes’ wrath. Unfortunately for  Æthelred much of his history has been written in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles by the monks who experienced the worst excesses of the Danish raids. This has left Æthelred’s reputation tarnished as a man who made poor decisions rather than a man ill-prepared for an impossible job. Maybe it’s time to forget the Old English.

Mary, Bloody Mary: How To Lose Friends And Alienate People In Post-Reformation Britain

Mary I of England (and Ireland and Spain if you take her word for it), better known as “Bloody Mary”, reigned from 1553 to 1558 and regularly appears in lists of Britain’s worst monarchs. To save time this week you could just go into a darkened bathroom and say “Bloody Mary” three times into the mirror. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to fill you in on her life and reign and whether or not she is deserving of her infamous nickname. If that doesn’t work, however, then please feel free to read on.

Mary I, as seen in many a bathroom mirror.

Mary was born to Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon in 1516 and, until the age of 17, was the sole heir to the English throne. Catherine had six pregnancies in total, three of which were male children, but Mary was her only child to survive infancy. As disappointed as Henry VIII was with the birth of a daughter, due to his desperation to secure the Tudor dynasty, he doted on Mary and entrusted her with the privileges usually reserved for the Prince of Wales. Following Henry’s divorce from Catherine of Aragon in 1533 Mary was declared illegitimate and forced to serve in the household of her baby half-sister Elizabeth. She was also denied access to her dying mother despite her pleas to her father and threats in the form of Spanish intervention.

The birth of her half-brother Edward in 1537 to Henry’s third wife, Jane Seymour, further removed Mary from the line of succession and it was only after Catherine Parr, Henry’s sixth wife, convinced Henry to address his relationship with his daughters that Mary was reinstated in the 1544 Act of Succession. Much as this may seem like a dramatic change of heart from Henry, Mary (and Elizabeth) were only really included in this legislation as a precautionary measure as Edward would doubtless have several male heirs to continue the Tudor line. You’d think Henry may have noticed the potential issues with this plan.

Mary was further marginalised during her brother’s brief reign. Despite Edward’s aggressive attempts at reforming English religion Mary continued to hear Catholic mass in her private chapel and allowed growing numbers of Catholics to join her. To honour a British seasonal tradition Edward confronted Mary at a family reunion on Christmas Day 1550 which reduced both siblings to tears in front of the king’s court. Mary did not speak with her brother again. You’ve got to feel for Elizabeth who was left with no one to pull a cracker with.

Edward’s premature death without issue in July 1553 should have handed Mary the throne but, desperate to avoid a Catholic succeeding him, Edward altered the line of succession to pass the crown to his cousin Lady Jane Grey. The shortest reign in English history came to an end nine days later when Mary and her army arrived in London. The Duke of Northumberland, who has been wrongly blamed for orchestrating the changes to the line of succession, was swiftly arrested and executed but, despite Mary’s “bloody” reputation, Lady Jane Grey’s life was spared. For a while anyway. Mary’s eventual accession to the English throne was met with public support and Edward’s advisors wasted no time in attempting to save their own skins by making it clear that that nasty Northumberland bloke had bullied them into agreeing to disinherit the new queen.

The early days of Mary’s reign can hardly be described as bloody. Initially the fiercely Catholic queen exercised religious tolerance and focused on financial reforms alongside naval expansion. The relative success of these policies laid the foundations for the Elizabethan age of prosperity and naval dominance. Although some prominent Protestants were imprisoned or removed from high office the gradual reintroduction of Catholicism into England was gentle in comparison to Edward’s shift towards Protestantism. It was with the announcement of Mary’s plans to marry King Phillip II of Spain that public opinion began to turn against Mary and, in time, Mary began to turn on her public.

The general consensus is that the English public and Mary’s advisors were against her marriage to Phillip II due to his fierce Catholicism. This was after all the man who vowed to rid Europe of heretics and introduced the Inquisition to the Hapsburg Empire. In reality the main reason for this opposition was that Phillip was Spanish and the last thing the Privy Council wanted was to be told what to do by a foreigner. Maybe they should have had a referendum about it. Despite the best efforts of her advisors and a rebellion led by Thomas Wyatt in January 1554 Mary refused to be swayed on the matter and eventually married Phillip in July 1554.

Phillip II arrives in London, July 1554.

Mary’s marriage to Phillip was probably the only high point of 1554 for the queen. Phillip returned to Spain shortly after the marriage and was conspicuous by his absence in the remaining years of her life as he followed the kingly tradition of chasing mistresses. Mary believed herself to be pregnant in September 1554 but this proved to be a phantom pregnancy. As a result she was mocked by members of her court with the Venetian ambassador stating the pregnancy was more likely to “end in wind rather than anything else”. With Phillip gone and no child Mary believed that God had punished her for her toleration of heretics. With this in mind Mary began to negotiate with Pope Julius III to bring England back into the Roman Catholic Church and with the deal agreed by the beginning of 1555 things were about to get bloody.

Between January 1555 and her death in November 1558 approximately 284 Protestants were burnt at the stake under Mary’s Heresy Act. On top of this 800 prominent Protestants fled England to continental Europe denying Mary’s government of some of its most able ministers. Some of the executions were particularly vindictive. Thomas Cranmer, the former Archbishop of Canterbury, was forced to watch his colleagues Bishops Latimer and Ridley burnt at the stake in an attempt to force him to renounce his Protestant faith. Cranmer did recant which, in theory, would pardon him as a repentant. Mary refused to accept this and Cranmer was executed but not before he had dramatically and publicly withdrawn his recantation. Cranmer’s death was a huge propaganda coup for the Protestant cause and a serious blow to Mary’s reputation.

Thomas Cranmer looking remarkably relaxed about his execution.

Mary believed she had fallen pregnant again in late 1557 but this proved to be another false alarm. Her health declined throughout 1558 and she died on November 17^th. Whilst her death was not publicly celebrated it certainly wasn’t met with Dianaesque mourning. The ever doting and romantic Phillip II stated he “felt a reasonable regret for her death”. Charming.

Mary’s reign has become synonymous with the brutal religious persecution she carried out between 1555 and 1558. There is no doubt she is in some way deserving of her sobriquet “Bloody Mary” especially when you consider that both the Spanish and Papal ambassadors, hardly the most liberal Catholics, advised her to stop the burnings for fear of losing public support. There are mitigating factors to consider. Since Mary I there has only been one other English Catholic monarch (James II) meaning that the vast majority of her history has been written from a Protestant perspective. This is particularly true in the early Elizabethan era where those exiled during Mary’s reign returned with chips on their shoulders and points to prove – John Foxe’s “Actes and Monuments” is a prime example of such work and this remained popular for hundreds of years after Mary’s death. When compared to her father Henry VIII and her sister Elizabeth I, Mary executed relatively few people. Elizabeth went as far to execute 450 people in a matter of weeks in response to the Revolt of the Northern Earls in 1569 but that would take away from the “Gloriana” image somewhat. They were only Catholics anyway so it probably doesn’t count. Mary set out to provide England with much needed religious stability but her inability to conceive and her desperation to impress her fanatical yet disinterested husband led her to take increasingly erratic actions against her subjects. Unfortunately for her legacy “Heartbroken Mary” and “Trying to impress the Pope Mary” didn’t quite catch on.