In History Hit’s new documentary, The Ambassadors: Mysteries of a Tudor Masterpiece, Dr Tracy Borman takes us on a high-stakes detective trail. From the private galleries of the National Gallery in London to the sacred floor of Westminster Abbey, Tracy unpicks the secrets of a painting that is far more than a simple portrait; it is a coded message from the eye of a political storm.

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A world turned upside down

To understand the painting, one must understand the year it was created. In 1533, England was a tinderbox. Henry VIII had secretly married Anne Boleyn, annulled his marriage to Catherine of Aragon, and effectively declared war on the religious authority of Rome.

It was into this volatile atmosphere that two French emissaries arrived on a mission for King Francis I of France: Jean de Dinteville, a magnificent 28-year-old nobleman, and Georges de Selve, a soberly dressed churchman – who may have been playing a double game as a spy for Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor.

History Hit’s Annie and Bill filming at the National Gallery

Image Credit: History Hit

The detective trail

Tracy Borman, who recently authored the National Gallery’s guide to the painting, explains that The Ambassadors is a “treasure trove of hidden meanings” that reveal the chaos of the Tudor court.  

“For a long time, there was a lot of debate about who these two men were,” Tracy notes. Why is a tiny, insignificant French village marked on the globe? And why does the floor beneath the men’s feet bear a forensic resemblance to the exact spot where Anne Boleyn was crowned?

Symbols of discord

The shelves between the two men are cluttered with weird and wonderful objects, but look closer and the ‘harmony’ of the scene begins to unravel:

• The broken string: On the lower shelf, a lute sits with a broken string – a stark symbol of religious and political division in Europe.
• The missing flute: A case of flutes is missing one instrument, further emphasising a world out of tune.
• The upside-down globe: A terrestrial globe depicts Europe upside down, focusing on Rome and Nuremberg – the flashpoints of the Reformation.

Production shot of Tracy Borman pointing out the broken string of the instrument

Image Credit: History Hit

The spy game

To understand how these men operated, Tracy visits Hampton Court Palace. In the 16th century, diplomacy was a game of whispers and access. Ambassadors didn’t have ministries; they had the Great Watching Chamber.

This was the ultimate ‘waiting room’ where ambassadors and spies would whisper and gather gossip while waiting for an audience with the King – the perfect place to gauge the temper of the court. As Tracy explores the hierarchy of these spaces with Tudor historian, Dr Alden Gregory, from Historic Royal Palaces, they reveal the ‘tightrope’ these men walked, balancing the impatient ego of Henry VIII against the demands of their own royal masters – the most powerful masters in Europe.

Witnessing the coronation

One of the most thrilling revelations in the documentary is the direct link between the painting and the most controversial event of 1533: the coronation of Anne Boleyn.

Tracy is granted rare permission to walk on the Cosmati Pavement in Westminster Abbey – the exact spot where Anne was crowned. Strikingly, the floor beneath the feet of the two men in Holbein’s painting bears a forensic resemblance to this very pavement.

“The message is that even great monarchs are rendered tiny before God,” Tracy explains. By placing the ambassadors on this sacred pattern, Holbein is signalling that they were there – witnessing the very moment Henry’s new Queen was anointed, an event that would change European history forever.

Tracy Borman gets special permission to walk on the Cosmati Pavement in Westminster Abbey

Image Credit: History Hit

Death and salvation

Of course, no discussion of The Ambassadors is complete without its most famous mystery: the ‘weird distorted shape’ hovering at the men’s feet.

When viewed from a specific angle, the smudge snaps into perspective as a human skull – a chilling memento mori that despite their fine silks and scientific instruments, death is the ultimate equaliser.

When viewed from a specific angle, the distorted shape hovering at the men’s feet in ‘The Ambassadors’ painting snaps into perspective as a human skull

Image Credit: History Hit

But Tracy looks further. Hidden at the very edge of the frame, half-concealed by a green curtain, is a tiny silver crucifix. “It is a symbol of hope and salvation,” she says. “The message is that salvation is there for those who seek it”, even in a world that appears to be on the brink of disaster.

Inside the investigation

Follow Tracy Borman as she explores the National Gallery and Westminster Abbey at close quarters, gaining unprecedented access to the very spaces where Tudor history was written.

Tracy dives deep into Holbein’s creative process with Dr Emma Capron, Curator at the National Gallery, to uncover how the artist balanced raw talent with scientific precision. The documentary explores Holbein’s staggering technical mastery, revealing his close collaboration with the King’s astronomer, Nicholas Kratzer, to render intricate scientific instruments with a level of detail that rivals modern photography.

By unpicking these details, the film seeks to uncover the truth of a masterpiece that seems to foretell the dark future of Henry VIII’s reign and the looming tragedy of Anne Boleyn.

Tracy Borman talks to Dr Emma Capron, Curator of Early Netherlandish and German Painting at the National Gallery about The Ambassadors painting

Image Credit: History Hit

Hans Holbein didn’t just paint two men; he captured a snapshot of a civilisation in the midst of a nervous breakdown. Through Tracy Borman’s expert guidance, we can finally begin to understand what these two wily ambassadors were thinking as they stared out of the canvas 500 years ago.

Watch The Ambassadors: Mysteries of a Tudor Masterpiece now on History Hit and discover the secrets hidden in plain sight.

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But was Jane Grey truly the passive pawn history suggests? In History Hit’s new documentary series, Queen Jane: The Extraordinary Life of Lady Jane Grey, Professor Suzannah Lipscomb peels back the layers of romantic fiction to reveal the woman behind the myth. By examining Jane’s tragic story, Suzannah uncovers the precarious nature of power in a patriarchal age where a female sovereign defied all precedent.

It is time to meet the real Jane: an intellectual powerhouse, a defiant Protestant, and – as one historian describes her – a “kick-ass woman” of the Tudor court who reigned as Queen of England for 13 days.

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Beyond the ‘Nine-Day’ myth

In Episode One, Suzannah explains how the story of Lady Jane Grey has been mythologised in the centuries since her death, noting how we need to think about how unwittingly we buy into that. 

“We refer to her as Lady Jane Grey – using her maiden name – and we don’t give her her title, ‘Queen Jane’”. Even the term ‘the 9 days queen’ is the victor’s perspective – she ruled for 13 days, from the death of Edward VI to the coup of Mary I. 

Instead, we should try to reckon with the real 17 year old noble woman and queen – the first queen to rule England in her own right? 

‘The Execution of Lady Jane Grey’ by Paul Delaroche, 1833

Image Credit: Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Messages from Jane’s final hours

The most visceral evidence of Jane’s character lies in her own hand. At the British Library, Suzannah meets curator Andrea Clark to examine Jane’s personal prayer book – a tiny volume she carried to the scaffold. In its margins, Jane wrote personal messages in her final hours, including a poignant note of comfort to her father and a message she wrote to Sir John Brydges, Lieutenant of the Tower of London, who asked to keep her prayer book as a memento and to write a message to him in it. 

While history paints her as a frightened child, these notes reveal a woman of immense poise and an unwavering adult stoicism and faith. “She seems so adult,” Suzannah observes. “We talk about her as this teenage girl, but here she is comforting her father.”

Writing inside Lady Jane Grey’s prayer book, including her own handwriting written in.

A linguistic prodigy

To understand Jane’s steel, Suzannah looks at her upbringing at Bradgate Park in Leicestershire. Born between October 1536 and May 1537 into the royal lineage – her maternal grandmother was Henry VIII’s sister – Jane was never intended for a quiet life. While the average Tudor man was illiterate, Jane was a linguistic genius, mastering as many as eight languages.

Historian Dr J. Stephan Edwards explains how Jane’s father “spent considerable sums of money hiring the best people to teach her, which shows he was invested in his daughter’s learning.” The sophistication of Jane’s learning was extraordinary for the time – her education wasn’t just broad, it was elite, comparable to the finest university minds of the era. 

From the metaphysics of Plato to the radical Protestantism encouraged by her mentor, Queen Catherine Parr (whom Jane lived with for a time), Jane was being forged into one of the best-educated people in Western Europe. Her only true intellectual rival was her cousin, the future Elizabeth I. 

This was a woman who practiced the intricate art of penmanship with a perfectionist’s flare, a trait that signalled her intense focus and self-control.

Turning the tide of history

Jane’s path to the throne was not paved by her own ambition, but by the dying wishes of her cousin, the 15 year-old King Edward VI. As Edward’s health failed in 1553, he grew desperate to prevent his Catholic half-sister, Mary, from seizing power and dismantling the Protestant Reformation.

At the British Library, Suzannah examines Edward VI’s personal journal, which contains a candid, firsthand account of his intense religious clashes with his Catholic half-sister, Mary. This sets the stage for her visit to the Inner Temple legal library, where she investigates Edward’s ‘Device for the Succession’ – a fascinating map of a young yet dying King’s mind and a radical document that would change the course of English history.

Originally, Edward limited the succession to ‘heirs male’ – excluding his two older half-sisters Mary and Elizabeth out of hand which even his own father had declared illegitimate. Instead he preferred a line of descent through Henry VIII’s sister, his aunt Mary Tudor and her eldest daughter, the Protestant Lady Frances Grey, and through any future male offspring of her Protestant daughters, Lady Jane Grey and her sisters Lady Katherine and Lady Mary.

However, with death approaching and no male heirs in sight, Edward made a “judicious stroke of the pen” and altered his own legal decree by striking through the ‘s’ in ‘Lady Jane’s’ to create: ‘Lady Jane and her heirs male.’ With that single correction, he bypassed his sisters and placed Jane directly on the throne.

Edward VI’s ‘Device for the Succession’

Image Credit: Inner Temple Legal Library / History Hit

The King’s radical gamble

The documentary goes on to reveal the high-stakes gamble that forced the Privy Council “into a rock and a hard place situation”, according to head librarian Rob Ho. Suzannah views the original agreement where the highest lords in the land signed their names to Edward’s plan – a document that many feared was pure treason.

Had Edward lived until the autumn to enshrine this in law via Parliament, Jane’s reign might have lasted 40 years instead of 13 days. She was a woman built for power – assertive, brilliant, and unwilling to be controlled by the men surrounding her.

The precarious nature of power

Jane Grey’s story is a haunting reminder of the precarious nature of power in a patriarchal age. She was a woman built for sovereignty – assertive, brilliant, and unwilling to be controlled by the men surrounding her.

So how did a woman of such formidable intellect and resolve lose her grip on the crown in less than a fortnight? And what happened when the disinherited Mary Tudor began her ruthless, high-stakes march on London?

To discover the hidden reality of England’s first reigning Queen, watch Episode 1 of Queen Jane: The Extraordinary Life of Lady Jane Grey now on History Hit. Stay tuned for the dramatic conclusion in Episode 2, coming soon.

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In History Hit’s compelling documentary ‘The Face of Anne Boleyn: Capturing a Queen’, Professor Suzannah Lipscomb visits Hever Castle – Anne’s childhood home  – to explore a landmark exhibition, Capturing a Queen, that brings together the largest collection of Anne’s portraits ever assembled. The documentary highlights the cutting-edge forensic science being used to determine if any of these surviving portraits’ “faces” capture the real woman, or if they are merely products of dynastic propaganda.

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Beauty vs. deformity

The mystery begins with conflicting contemporary accounts. Contemporaries of Anne often noted her “beguiling dark eyes” and an elegant, olive-toned complexion. However, as Professor Lipscomb notes, “When it comes to Anne Boleyn, we need to think about who is writing the account.” The most enduring – and infamous description came decades after her death. 

In 1585, Catholic polemicist Nicholas Sander claimed Anne had a projecting tooth, a large cyst under her chin, and six fingers on her right hand. Writing 50 years after her execution, Sander’s “witch-like” caricature was a calculated attempt to delegitimise her daughter, Elizabeth I. This tug-of-war between admiration and vilification has coloured every artistic representation of Anne for centuries.

The “Most Happy” discovery

The documentary explores the collection of portraits of Anne from the 16th century, many of which depict her wearing a ‘B’ necklace – the iconic pearl strand that has become Anne’s visual shorthand. It also highlights a rare artefact: ‘The Moost Happi Medal’.

Loaned from the British Museum, this lead medallion from 1534 was cast when Anne was thought to be pregnant with a son. It is the only contemporary likeness of Anne undisputed by historians. Though damaged, it serves as a ‘Rosetta Stone’ for her features, providing a vital prototype to compare against later, potentially fictionalised paintings. 

‘The Moost Happi Medal’ – Left: original medal, damaged. Right: original sketch

Image Credit: British Museum / Hever Castle / History Hit

Icons of authority

In her lifetime, Anne was often defined by her personal iconography, which would have been familiar to everyone at court. These included a crowned falcon perched on a rose-bearing stump (a potent symbol of fertility and her promise of a male heir), and a leopard (a fierce emblem of royal authority). Such symbols of Anne were also found on her personal possessions.

At Hever, Suzannah examines Anne’s personal velvet-covered Book of Ecclesiastes. As Assistant Curator Kate McCaffrey remarks, “Her DNA is all over this.” It is in these intimate objects that we find a more authentic trace of Anne than many stylised portraits.

A dynastic mask

After her execution in 1536, Anne’s image was effectively purged from the royal record. It only resurfaced decades later during the reign of her daughter, Elizabeth I, as wealthy patrons commissioned ‘corridor portraits’ to signal Protestant loyalty to the Queen.

Scientific analysis, however, reveals a startling truth: many of these images were created using standardised “patterns” or stencils. Under-drawings suggest artists weren’t painting a woman they remembered, but were likely mapping Elizabeth I’s long, elegant face backward onto her mother.

During a perilous period for Elizabeth I’s reign, this “Elizabethanising” of Anne served to visually cement the Queen’s legitimacy to the court. As Suzannah summarises, this also implies that by the 1580s, painters didn’t know what Anne Boleyn looked like, so they were essentially “creating Anne from scratch on the basis of her daughter.”

Production shot of Prof Suzannah Lipscomb and Dr. Owen Emmerson discussing one of Anne Boleyn’s portraits on display at Hever Castle

Image Credit: History Hit

The Hever Rose portrait

A lot of the research done at Hever Castle has been focused on a well-known portrait in their own collection – the ‘Hever Rose Portrait’. 

Unlike the standardised Elizabethan patterns, this painting displays distinct facial variations and a deliberate later inclusion of Anne’s hands – showing a normal number of fingers – holding a rose of Lancaster, likely a direct rebuttal to Sanders’ ‘six-fingered’ rumours.

Dendrochronology has dated the wood panel used in the portrait to 1583. The portrait was sent to the Hamilton Kerr Institute at the Fitzwilliam Museum where an array of non-invasive technologies – including infra-red, x-rays, X-radiography and micro-invasive sampling – were used to help peer through the centuries of pigment and analyse the chemical composition of the paint. Research scientist Paul Van Laar explains that

“The exciting thing about many of these techniques is that we can look beneath what we see with the naked eye. We see the top paint layer but we never know what’s hidden underneath”.

Analysis of the Hever Rose portrait of Anne Boleyn

Image Credit: History Hit

The findings suggest that while this specific portrait was painted in 1583 – a perilous year for Elizabeth I’s reign – it was transferred from a master “pattern” that likely pre-dates the painting by decades. Could that master image date back to Anne’s own lifetime? This offers a tantalising possibility: a surviving link to a master image created during Anne’s actual lifetime.

The search continues

Finding the “real” Anne is about more than aesthetics. As Dr. Owen Emmerson observes, her contemporaries valued her “style, charisma, and intelligence” over her physical features. Yet, the quest to find the real face of Anne Boleyn is more than mere curiosity. Reclaiming her true likeness is an act of historical justice – stripping away the propaganda of her enemies and the political filters of her descendants to see the woman herself.

Join Suzannah Lipscomb at Hever Castle as she aims to uncover ‘The Face of Anne Boleyn: Capturing a Queen’.

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Across February and March, Professor Suzannah Lipscomb is exploring the kings and queens of the Restoration on History Hit’s Not Just The Tudors podcast. This era represents one of the most volatile and vibrant chapters in British history, a period where the crown had to be reinvented for a new, skeptical age. This special series, Monarchs of the Restoration, peels back the velvet curtains on the Stuart kings and queens who steered Britain from the brink of collapse toward the birth of a global superpower.

How did a soot-blackened fugitive clinging to a tree become the king who triumphantly sailed home to reclaim his crown? NJTT covers Charles II’s survival, the sheer spectacle of his court, and the seismic transformation of England during the Restoration. From the return of the theatre to the birth of modern science, this series uncovers the drama of the Stuart dynasty’s final act.

Charles II: the Merry Monarch’s mask

The series begins with perhaps the most cinematic escape in royal history. Before he was the “Merry Monarch,” Charles II was a soot-blackened fugitive clinging to an oak tree, evading Roundhead patrols with a price on his head.

Charles II – Portrait by John Riley, c. 1683–1684

Image Credit: Public Domain

Professor Lipscomb traces this journey from desperate survival to the triumphant day Charles sailed home to reclaim his crown. But the Restoration was about more than just a king returning to his palace. Under Charles II, England emerged from the shadow of Puritan austerity into an age of unfettered pleasure, scientific revolution, and theatrical scandal.

Yet, as Suzannah discovers, this era of “glittering courts” was also defined by the grim realities of the Great Plague and the Great Fire of London. Was Charles a visionary who saved the monarchy, or a hedonist who nearly lost it again?

Listen to Episode 1: Charles II: Restoration of the Monarchy

James II: faith, fear, and the fall

If Charles II was a master of political pragmatism, his brother, James II, was a man of unyielding conviction. In the second episode, Suzannah is joined by Dr Breeze Barrington to uncover the man behind the myth of the “Last Catholic King.”

James II by Peter Lely, circa 1650-1675

Image Credit: Peter Lely, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

James II is often relegated to a footnote – the monarch swept aside to make room for William and Mary. However, behind the Glorious Revolution, his story is a high-stakes drama of religious devotion and political downfall. Was James a tyrant blinded by his Catholic faith, or a misunderstood visionary who genuinely sought religious toleration in an intolerant age? This episode unpicks the tensions that brought the nation once more to the brink of revolution.

Listen to Episode 2: James II: The Restoration’s Last Catholic King

Mary II: the power behind the “joint” throne

History often speaks of “William and Mary” as a singular unit, but Queen Mary II was a formidable force in her own right. In the third episode of Not Just The Tudors’ special series, Monarchs of the Restoration, Suzannah welcomes Dr Holly Marsden to discuss England’s first and only joint sovereign.

Portrait by Peter Lely, 1677

Image Credit: Peter Lely, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Far from being a passive partner to her Dutch husband, William of Orange, Mary was politically astute, deeply devout, and culturally influential. She played a pivotal role in the “Glorious Revolution” and the crafting of Britain’s constitutional monarchy – the very system that survives today. This episode reclaims Mary’s place in history, exploring her influence on gender roles and the radical political shifts of the late 17th century.

Listen to Episode 3: Queen Mary II & the Glorious Revolution

Queen Anne: the underestimated architect of Great Britain

The series concludes with the monarch who is perhaps the most unfairly caricatured of all: Queen Anne. Long dismissed as sickly, overweight, and easily manipulated by favourites like Sarah Churchill, the reality of Anne’s reign tells a vastly different story.

Queen Anne, portrait, 1705, by artist Michael Dahl

Image Credit: National Portrait Gallery, Public Domain

Joined by biographer Lady Anne Somerset, Professor Lipscomb examines the last Stuart monarch – a woman who presided over the Acts of Union that created Great Britain and who navigated a reign defined by near-constant global warfare. Anne attended cabinet meetings more faithfully than any ruler before or since, proving herself to be a conscientious and determined leader. Was she truly the “fragile” queen of legend, or was she actually one of, if not the, most hardworking monarch in British history?

Episode 4: The Last Stuart Monarch

Why the Restoration matters

The Restoration wasn’t just a “restart” for the monarchy; it was the crucible in which modern Britain was forged. It was the era that gave us the Royal Society, the professional theatre, and the legal framework that limits the power of the Crown.

Throughout the series, Not Just The Tudors offers more than just a history lesson – it provides a character study of four individuals who had to prove, against the odds, that the monarchy was still relevant in a rapidly changing world.

Listen to the Monarchs of the Restoration series now on Not Just The Tudors

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What followed was the most radical political experiment in British history. The House of Lords was abolished, the monarchy swept away, and the British Isles were declared a republic. Yet, within just 11 years, the monarchy was restored with exuberant celebration.

In a special panel edition of Not Just The Tudors…Lates – Why the English Revolution Failed, Professor Suzannah Lipscomb sits down with leading historians Dr Jonathan Healey, Dr Miranda Malins, and Professor Ronald Hutton to unpick the decade of the “Interregnum.” Together, they ask: was the English Republic doomed from the start, or was it a missed opportunity that changed the world?

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A republic born of a coup

The panel begins by addressing how unlike modern revolutions driven by popular uprisings, England’s republic was established via a military coup d’état.

“The execution of King Charles I wasn’t what the majority of Parliamentarians wanted,” explains Dr Miranda Malins. “There was no plan to wheel out in January 1649. The regime was a hasty fudge that spent the next decade desperately trying to retrospectively legitimise itself.”

Professor Ronald Hutton adds that the British public never quite forgave the Republic for its origins. To maintain power, the regime required a standing army, which meant heavy taxes. The people were effectively being asked to pay for a military force to prop up a government they didn’t ask for – creating a recipe for instability.

The tyranny of the “free state”

The republic was justified through providence – the idea that God had granted the New Model Army victory – and the sovereignty of the people. However, the leadership never actually trusted the people.

“The tension at the heart of the republic,” says Hutton,“is that its establishment is justified in terms of the will and sovereignty of the people but at no point do those in charge feel able to trust the people to validate their power”. This was not a modern democracy; the franchise was restricted, and the government quickly turned on its most radical supporters, such as the Levellers, who called for genuine legal equality and religious freedom.

By removing the King but leaving the social order (and the wealth of the gentry) intact, the Republic failed to provide the infrastructure for a truly new kind of politics.

Production shots from filming

Image Credit: History Hit

An imperial project: conquering the archipelago

One of the most significant – and brutal – achievements of the Republic was the forced unification of the British Isles.

“In 1649, the English unilaterally decided to kill a British monarch,” says Malins, setting off a chain reaction across Ireland and Scotland. Under Oliver Cromwell, the Republic embarked on a “metropole” project, imposing English republicanism at the point of a sword.

The campaign in Ireland was particularly devastating, resulting in the loss of an estimated 20% of the population according to Jonathan. Professor Hutton argues that the trauma of this period established a Protestant supremacy that would define Irish history until the 20th century. “In many ways, from the Irish point of view, the damage is still there,” he remarks. “The bloodshed in my lifetime can be traced directly to those events.”

The rise and fall of the Protector

By 1653, the experiment shifted. Frustrated by a stagnant Parliament, Cromwell famously cleared the house by force on 20 April, eventually becoming Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland on 16 December 1653. 

Was this a return to monarchy in all but name? Jonathan points out that for a lot of people there was an irony as because the Protectorship was unprecedented, that for them meant that the power of the Protector was potentially unlimited. 

Yet Miranda Malins suggests that while Cromwell acted like a monarch – issuing over 80 ordinances in his first few months – he was trapped. The regime reforms were “not radical enough for the radicals, it’s too monarchical, but equally it’s not legitimately monarchical and royal enough for the royalists, and so he can’t really please anybody”. 

When Cromwell died in September 1658, the lack of a clear succession plan proved fatal. His son, Richard Cromwell, was a “country gentleman” who lacked his father’s military clout. Without Oliver’s ability to balance the competing factions of the army and Parliament, the house of cards collapsed into chaos, with Charles II the beneficiary of this.

Oliver Cromwell by Samuel Cooper

Image Credit: After Samuel Cooper, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Failure or “unfinished business”?

If the Republic lasted only 11 years, can we call it a success?

Jonathan Healey jokes that it “did alright to last as long as it did,” but the panel agrees the legacy is profound. The Interregnum prevented a “healing” that might have occurred under a more conservative settlement, allowing a diversity of Protestant opinion to flourish that could never again be suppressed.

“We’ve been, in many ways, a two-party system ever since,” Hutton observes, “where Cavalier and Roundhead turned into Whig and Tory” and down through the centuries. The dynamic of ‘stabilised disagreement’ that defines British politics today was born in this short-lived republic, he argues.

So why is this period often ignored in our national story? The panel suggests a ‘state-sponsored amnesia’ began with Charles II, who promised a general amnesty and encouraged people to forget previous conflicts, and made it illegal to threaten the King’s life or to advocate for the return of a republic. We prefer the neat narrative of kings and queens over the “back alley” of a failed commonwealth.

As Ronald Hutton concludes, the republic was not ultimately a failure because “it’s a prelude to the victory of democracy and toleration in the 1680s, and everything that is good about us follows from that …the republic is not so much a failure as unfinished business.”

Hear the full, unedited debate between these world-class historians on Not Just The Tudors…Lates: Why the English Revolution Failed on History Hit.

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In this special episode of What if the Gunpowder Plot Succeeded? Not Just The Tudors… Lates, Professor Suzannah Lipscomb invites fellow Early Modern historians – Jessie Childs, Gareth Russell, and Professor Anna Whitelock – to ponder an alternate history. Together, they unravel one of Britain’s most dramatic “what ifs,” asking how the successful execution of the Gunpowder Plot would have irrevocably transformed the nation’s future.

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The immediate aftermath

The conspirators’ immediate goal was pure destruction: to kill King James I, his heir, and the entire Protestant ruling class during the state opening of parliament. But in the programme, the panel argues the plotters were incredibly naive about the chaos that would follow.

• Power vacuum: As Jessie Childs points out, the blast would have killed not only the King, Queen, and Prince Henry, but every bishop, judge, lawyer, and high-ranking civil servant – effectively decapitating the entire Protestant establishment. With the records of government also destroyed at Westminster, even the basics of governance would have been impossible. Who would have been left to organise a legitimate resistance?
• The kidnapping plot: The conspirators planned to kidnap the King’s nine-year-old daughter, Princess Elizabeth, and install her as a puppet queen, marrying her off to a suitable Catholic to “restore the ancient faith.” But would foreign powers have supported this new, violently unstable regime?
• Widespread condemnation: Far from uniting Catholics, Professor Whitelock argues that while the plotters sought to establish a Catholic state, their methods and the scale of the terror would have provoked widespread condemnation, possibly leading to an immediate, massive anti-Catholic backlash and even murder of Catholics in the streets.

Gareth Russell suggests the impact would have been absolute anarchy and chaos for months, as no legitimate Protestant or secular leader would have remained to organise a resistance.

Some of the members of the Gunpowder Plot, featured in a 17th century engraving by Crispijn van de Passe

Image Credit: Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain

War and division

A successful plot would have instantly fractured the United Kingdom and plunged James’s former three kingdoms into war.

• A divided Britain: All panelists agree the Union of Crowns, which James I had skillfully forged, would have been instantly lost. Scotland would have been incandescent with fury over the regicide of its king and royal family, and would likely declared its own separate, Protestant monarch, leading to an inevitable war with an English Catholic regime.
• Ireland’s fate: The repercussions would have been different in Ireland, where the Catholic elite might have remained intact. If so, would this have potentially led to a completely different, independent Irish history?
• No easy alliances: The new regime in England would have faced immense problems securing a foreign alliance. Gareth Russell notes that while Catholic powers like Spain would have wanted peace, they would have been wary of marrying their heirs into such a risky, unstable regime that had just wiped out its own royal family.

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  Prof Suzannah Lipscomb (left), with the panel (from left to right), historians Professor Anna Whitelock, Gareth Russell, and Jessie Childs.

  Image Credit: History Hit

The unintended consequences

As Suzannah notes to the panel, “I was going to ask you what were the unintended consequences of this, but it feels like every consequence was unintended!” The discussion highlights how the assassination would have rippled across every facet of British culture and society, often with destructive, unintended effects:

• Cultural collapse: The plot would have effectively caused the pre-emptive euthanising of the Jacobean cultural flowering. The great writers of the era, including Shakespeare (who was the King’s man), would have lost their patronage and context. The production of the influential King James Bible would have ended.
• The martyr king: Jessie Childs notes that rather than being viewed as a tyrant, King James would have been immediately seen as a Protestant martyr, further hardening religious lines and potentially making any future reconciliation impossible.
• The seeds of revolution: Professor Whitelock suggests that the Gunpowder Plot, had it succeeded, would have been the first major instance where a story about a political “Popish plot” was confirmed, accelerating the process by which anti-Catholic anxiety became politically explosive, shifting the entire trajectory of the Stuart period. As the panel ponders, this chaos might have brought about a revolution, perhaps more aligned with the French Revolution of the 18th century, potentially eliminating the monarchy altogether.

Grievance is not a policy

The ultimate takeaway from this chilling historical conjecture is the sheer naivety of the plotters. As Gareth Russell succinctly puts it: “A grievance is not a policy.” The conspirators had no clear plan for what came after the destruction. Their act of devastating terror would have been followed by a “great silence” of governance and a massive, bloody struggle to fill the power vacuum.

Join Professor Suzannah Lipscomb and her expert panel as they explore the chilling alternative future where Guy Fawkes succeeded and the map of Britain was irrevocably redrawn in What if the Gunpowder Plot Succeeded? Not Just The Tudors… Lates.

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In a new documentary, Witchmen: Witch Trials in the Land of Fire & Ice, historian Dr Kate Lister is on a mission to find out why. Her investigation takes her across the breathtaking landscape of the Westfjords in northwest Iceland, through dramatic jagged coastlines, high mountains, and roaring waterfalls, delving into a culture where a belief in magic still prevails today.

Kate uncovers the truth around some of the most unique and remote witch trials of the 17th century, revealing a story that is less about magic and more about human nature, conspiracy, and local power games.

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Iceland’s male witches

The gender of those persecuted for witchcraft varied across Europe: while women were the typical targets in Mediterranean and Germanic countries, based on the ancient idea that women possessed innate magical abilities, the role of the witch or magician was stereotypically male in several northern and eastern regions, including Iceland, Normandy, Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, the Austrian countries, and Russia.

As Kate explores, the supernatural has been part of Icelandic culture ever since the first Viking settlers arrived in the late 9th century. They brought with them the old Norse gods and folklore – Loki, Odin, and Thor – and a strong tradition of Rune and Stave magic. This ancient heritage was closely linked to men. Because Icelanders believed that men were much more capable of magic than women, the focus of the witch hunts shifted almost entirely to them.

For centuries, magic was an important everyday tool used to feel they had some control over a hostile landscape; many people would cast runes, spells and good luck charms. These ancient beliefs were practiced widely on the island for centuries alongside Christianity and never seemed to cause a problem. But when the witch craze spread from Europe, these ancient magical traditions suddenly looked like sorcery. 

Example of a rune

Image Credit: History Hit

The conspiracy and the confessions

In 17th century Iceland, a witch came to be defined as ‘somebody who used supernatural powers to cause others harm’. The trials began in earnest with the burning of the first alleged witch in 1625, accused of summoning a zombie to attack his neighbour’s horse. But it was the arrival of European zeal that truly amplified the terror.

Kate speaks with world-renowned witch expert Professor Ronald Hutton, who explains that the witch craze escalated across Europe during the turbulent years of the Reformation (1560–1640), becoming “the ultimate conspiracy theory.” In Iceland, this fervour was imported directly by local sheriffs and well-educated priests who had studied the witch hunts in countries like Denmark and Germany.

The local geography played a role: the most severe cases occurred in the remote Westfjords, where a few powerful, educated individuals had the influence to press accusations. Kate details the story of an early major case where a strange sickness affecting two young women was attributed to three men thought to be witches. Despite the likely cause being simple illness (or even bad corn), the three men were burned alive in 1654.

The documentary provides a fascinating look into the sources of this unique form of magic. Kate visits the Museum of Icelandic Sorcery and Witchcraft in Hólmavík, where she speaks to curator, Anna Pórarinsdóttir and is shown a replica of the infamous ‘necropants’ – trousers made from human skin and used in a grotesque ritual to magically acquire money. She also sees examples of Staves, ritual symbols often used in conjunction with Runes – the magical writing that was considered essential to kickstart any spell.

Kate Lister filming at the Museum of Icelandic Sorcery and Witchcraft in Hólmavík, where she speaks to curator, Anna Pórarinsdóttir and is shown a replica of the infamous ‘necropants’.

Image Credit: History Hit

Anna also shows Kate a replica of a 17th century turf house in the remote area of Klúka – an area famed for its mountain ranges, beautiful hiking trails and epic waterfalls. Such houses would have been adorned with Staves even for simple tasks, such as to help keep knives sharp while cutting grass, highlighting the commonality of such symbols in Icelandic history. 

Iceland is often seen as a magical place even today due to its association with the aurora borealis – the northern lights. The northern lights appear throughout Icelandic folklore and were often mythologised, as souls, waiting to pass to the other side, or even hidden people like the elves. In Norse mythology, the lights were a bridge that took fallen warriors to the world of the gods.

Replica of a 17th century Icelandic turf house

Image Credit: History Hit

The witch-hunter’s agenda

The rise of the witch hunts in Iceland was often driven by religious zealots with a clear agenda.

Kate examines the story of Paul Biörnson, a wealthy, well-connected priest in the village of Selárdalur. When his wife, Helga, fell ill, Biörnson embarked on a quest to “expel the devil” from the area, recognising that a reputation as a witch hunter would certainly grow his loyal congregation. Helga’s repeated accusations led to the death of seven people – one-third of all confirmed burnings in Iceland.

Crucially, Kate and curator Anna Pórarinsdóttir explore the one fact that protected Icelandic women: they could not own property or land. As Anna suggests, because the motive for many accusations across Europe was to seize the possessions of the accused, the women’s subordinate financial status ironically shielded them from prosecution.

The consequences for those accused were horrific. Alleged Icelandic witches were burned to death – a rare punishment in Europe, where the condemned were usually strangled or beheaded first. Professor Hutton explains that burning was reserved for those deemed “utterly evil,” as it was believed to remove the body, which was “impregnated with bad magic,” preventing the evil from poisoning the soil.

Dr Kate Lister at the Burning Ravine, Þingvellir National Park, Iceland

Image Credit: History Hit

The legacy of magic

Kate travels to Þingvellir National Park, the site of Iceland’s first parliament and a location where several accused witches were burned in the “Burning Ravine.” She explores the process of prosecution and even writes down a defensive Stave, demonstrating how these beliefs persist today.

The programme reveals one of the worst curses imaginable: the Fart Rune, a magical affliction with symptoms similar to dysentery, a real killer in the 17th century. The fact that people confessed to using this – even knowing they faced death by fire – underscores how real magic was to them.

Kate’s investigation suggests the witch trials were less about the supernatural and more about human nature and the terrifying ease with which hate and suspicion allowed neighbour to turn on neighbour. In a world still consumed by conspiracy theories and mass condemnation, how far have we truly progressed from the anxieties of the 17th century?

Join Dr Kate Lister as she uncovers the ultimate true crime conspiracy in Witchmen: Witch Trials in the Land of Fire & Ice.

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This confrontation with the inevitable was captured in a unique artistic tradition: Memento Mori, Latin for “Keep death in your thoughts.” These were not objects of grief, but stark, often beautiful, reminders of life’s impermanence.

In The Ashmolean Up Close: Memento Mori – the fourth film in History Hit’s partnership with the University of Oxford’s Ashmolean Museum – Professor Suzannah Lipscomb goes behind the scenes to investigate this morbid side to life in early modern Europe. Guided by Matthew Winterbottom, Assistant Keeper of Decorative Arts and Sculpture, Suzannah explores the surprising significance of these items, uncovering what they reveal about faith, wealth, and the honest acceptance of death.

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The morbid motif: luxury and humility

Given that death was ubiquitous in early modern life, why did people need constant reminders of it? Matthew Winterbottom explains that Memento Mori were a continuous call to spiritual readiness, but they were also objects of conspicuous display.

These were not modest artefacts. Made of expensive silver, gold, diamonds, and ivory by the finest craftsmen, they were designed to be worn as jewellery. As Suzannah notes, this creates a strange contradiction: people were proclaiming their humility and commitment to a good Christian life by literally showing off their immense wealth. The skull or the decaying body became a highly fashionable motif, used ubiquitously across the arts.

The documentary examines one of the Ashmolean’s earliest objects: a large carved ivory bead from the early 16th century, thought to have hung at the end of a rosary used in a monastery or cathedral. Carved into a double-sided head, one side depicts a skull, and the other shows a horrifying process of decay, covered in writhing worms, toads, and snakes. This brutal imagery, Matthew explains, was a direct link to the medieval world’s understanding of “dust to dust,” an age before refrigeration and when people frequently saw dead bodies and charnel houses where bones were stacked.

For the believer, this was an honest reminder of their fate before the eventual resurrection on Judgment Day – a shared belief among Protestants and Catholics in 16th and 17th century Europe that death was not final, and one day the dead would rise to face God’s judgement.

Double-sided ivory skull bead, one side showing a recently deceased head, the other showing a head in the process of putrefying.

Image Credit: History Hit / Ashmolean Museum

Time ticking away

The concept of Memento Mori was inextricably linked to the idea of fleeting time. Suzannah and Matthew explore three small silver skull watches from the mid-17th century. Opening the jaw of the skull reveals the ticking clock beneath. This remarkable object is a perfect metaphor: life is constantly ticking away, and death is not far behind.

The watches, possibly made in England or France, were a highly conspicuous way of carrying this philosophy. They often bore powerful Latin inscriptions, urging the wearer to live life to the fullest while simultaneously preparing for a “good death” to ensure passage to heaven.

From self-reflection to commemoration

Some Memento Mori objects were crafted not only for self-reflection but also to send a clear message to others. In the documentary, Suzannah and Matthew explore some rings, including one highly ornate piece of enamelled gold and diamonds featuring a skull and crossbones. This extravagant display of wealth – an object a modern mind might consider “spooky” – was, in the 17th century, a serious statement. The wearer wasn’t just reminding himself of mortality; he was showcasing his commitment to Christian duty, demonstrating that his wealth also translated into support for charities and the less fortunate.

Ring featuring enamelled gold and diamond skull and crossbones

Image Credit: History Hit / Ashmolean Museum

The meaning of these objects began to shift in the early 18th century. Suzannah and Matthew examine a mourning ring commemorating Queen Anne, the last of the Stuart monarchs. The ring features a tiny, coffin-shaped vessel with a skull and crossbones. Inside the coffin is Queen Anne’s cypher and, chillingly, woven strands of her hair. This practice, where quantities of hair were cut from the deceased and turned into mementos for distribution across the court, was the beginning of the mourning jewellery trend that would become widespread in the Georgian and Victorian eras. 

These eras also saw mourning practices became standardised and spread across social classes, notably shifting the traditional colour for mourning from the cheaper white to black, which had previously been reserved for the wealthy elite.

The unsanitised truth

The Ashmolean’s collection also holds unique, ephemeral objects designed for public ritual, such as a rare early 18th century funerary shield, shown to Suzannah by Anne van Camp, assistant keeper of northern European art. Anne explains that for her, “it’s the ultimate Memento Mori’.

This wooden print, adorned with a skull, cross, and crossbones, was never meant to survive. Bearing traces of candle wax, it was likely carried in a funeral procession, and would have looked spectacular and eerie ritual in a darkened church – giving us a glimpse into the world of ornamentation and ritual around funerals we otherwise would have lost.

Early 18th century funerary shield

Image Credit: History Hit / Ashmolean Museum

Perhaps the most curious object is an ivory figure carved inside a tortoiseshell lantern. When the object is turned, the figure of a beautiful naked woman instantly transforms into a shrouded skeleton. This was a tactile, immediate message: life is fleeting, and beauty is transient. Matthew further explains how life would have been quite brutal, especially for poorer people, back then, and so for some, death might have been seen as a form of sweet release, on to a better afterlife.

The most profound takeaway from the documentary, however, is the contrast between the past and the present. When Suzannah asks Matthew if the early modern approach to mortality was healthier than our modern taboo around death, he offers a powerful answer. He suggests the honesty of the Memento Mori tradition – the willingness to confront the ugly, messy process of rotting – was a far healthier way of living. Death was ubiquitous; they couldn’t avoid it, so they embraced it.

This collection of Memento Mori – symbols of mourning, faith, hope, and contemplation – invites us to reflect on our own transience and recognise that the minds of those who lived centuries ago, though profoundly different, were grappling with the same ultimate reality as our own.

Join Professor Suzannah Lipscomb and Matthew Winterbottom as they delve into the beautiful, morbid art of the past in The Ashmolean Up Close: Memento Mori.

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In a new episode of Not Just The Tudors… Lates: Henry VIII on Film, Professor Suzannah Lipscomb hosts a discussion that dissects how Henry VIII has been reimagined on screen, exploring what these portrayals get right, what they get wrong, and why he remains such a compelling, complicated character. Suzannah is joined by an expert panel featuring Tudor specialist Jessie Childs, historian Dr Joanne Paul, and historian and screenwriter Alex Von Tunzelmann. Together, they trace the evolution of Henry’s cinematic image – from jolly rogue to calculated monster.

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The King’s shifting image

The panel examines how different eras have moulded the King to suit their own fascinations:

The lovable rogue: The discussion begins with Charles Laughton’s Oscar-winning performance in ‘The Private Life of Henry VIII’ (1933). This landmark film broke box office records, and set the initial mould for how the 20th century would view the King, creating the persistent caricature of the gluttonous King gorging on feasts.  The film’s satirical element is also powerful; as Dr Joanne Paul states, “there is something inherently ridiculous about Henry VIII and there is something powerful about laughing at him.”

However, the film also reveals a surprisingly vulnerable Henry – a man desperately searching for love – a narrative that reframes the entire Tudor story focusing on the King’s own disappointments rather than solely on Anne Boleyn which tended to become popular later in the 20th century. 

Promotional still from the 1933 film ‘The Private Life of Henry VIII’ featuring Charles Laughton as King Henry VIII, and Elsa Lanchester as Anne of Cleves, on their wedding night.

Image Credit: Public Domain

The sinister seducer: Cinematic portrayals took a darker turn by the 1960’s with Richard Burton’s far more sinister Henry VIII in ‘Anne of the Thousand Days’ (1969). Made when film codes were loosening, this film is shocking in its sexual politics, presenting a menacing Henry who slaps Anne Boleyn. The panel argues over whether this dark portrayal is historically accurate or simply reflects the harsher edge of 1960s filmmaking. Whilst Alex dislikes the film, Joanne, however, appreciates that the film shifts the narrative, portraying Anne as resisting Henry’s advances, giving her a power beyond simple sexual manipulation.

The Renaissance heartthrob: The modern era offered a complete reboot with Jonathan Rhys Meyers in ‘The Tudors’ (2007-2010). Once dubbed “soft porn disguised as history” by film critic Mark Lawson, this depiction of a youthful, impossibly handsome Henry captured a crucial, often-missed element: the King’s early charisma and fire. The panel discusses how Rhys Meyers successfully embodied the beguiling and magnetic young Henry described in historical sources.

Portrait of Henry VIII (1491-1547) by
Hans Holbein the Younger in 1540

Image Credit: Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Antica / Public Domain

Behind the persona: vicious or vulnerable?

The discussion moves beyond looks to dissect the political calculations of the King’s rule.

The calculated monster: The panel contrasts modern portrayals that focus on Henry’s immense power. In ‘Wolf Hall’ (2015), Jessie describes Henry as the “master… the monster” who subtly whispers his murderous desires to Thomas Cromwell. However, Joanne finds the performance “lacklustre,” arguing that it fails to capture the “fire in his eyes” and the physically terrifying presence Henry was known for in his time. This contrasts with Jude Law’s terrifying and grotesque late-life King in Firebrand (2023), where you can palpably feel the menace of a powerful man consumed by his own physical decay.

The enduring enigma

The experts agree that every portrayal – from Laughton’s funny rogue to Law’s terrifying tyrant – is a work of fiction that must choose one angle to convey. Joanne notes the fascinating paradox that two different films, Anne of the Thousand Days and Firebrand, essentially portray the same grotesque, controlling Henry, yet the viewer’s modern interpretation of that control shifts dramatically – is it repulsive, or is it interpreted as power?

The enduring power of Henry VIII lies in these contradictions: he was a brilliant scholar, a charismatic athlete, and an unforgiving tyrant.

So, which version of Henry VIII is the most historically convincing, and which one is the panel’s favourite? Join Professor Suzannah Lipscomb and her expert panel as they dissect the King’s cinematic afterlife and reveal the historical truth behind the actors in Not Just The Tudors… Lates: Henry VIII on Film.

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In the third film in History Hit’s partnership with the University of Oxford’s Ashmolean Museum, Professor Suzannah Lipscomb investigates the shifting and often terrifying image of the witch in art in The Ashmolean Up Close: Witches in Picture. Guided by curator An Van Camp, she traces how these figures were depicted in prints and drawings from the 15th to the 17th centuries – a potent reflection of an era gripped by anxiety. The programme reveals a world where superstition, religion, and art collided in a desperate attempt to explain the unexplainable.

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From mystery to menace

The programme begins with a deep dive into the ambiguous world of 15th-century art. An Van Camp, the museum’s Curator of Northern European Art, shows Suzannah a print by the German master Albrecht Dürer from 1497, now known as ‘The Four Witches’ . While some might interpret it as a scene of temptation or a brothel, a closer look reveals unsettling details – skulls, bones, and bizarre creatures – hinting at something far more sinister.

Pondering whether the picture is in part a comment on women’s sexuality, the artwork is a fascinating puzzle, reflecting an age when the line between human vice and dark magic was dangerously blurred.

Next, Suzannah examines a more overtly “witchy” drawing: ‘A Witches’ Kitchen’ by Jacques de Gheyn the Younger, a popular artist of the time. This unsettling image, created in the early 1600s, is a stark contrast to Dürer’s work. It depicts a grotesque scene of figures that fit the stereotype of witches, a cauldron, and a disemboweled man, yet it’s also filled with scientific details that echo the era’s emerging study of anatomy.

The drawing reveals a world where art, medicine, and the supernatural were intertwined, capturing the widespread fear of witchcraft in an age of accusations and witch trials, as well as religious persecution.

‘A Witches’ Kitchen’ by Jacques de Gheyn the Younger

Image Credit: Ashmolean Museum, Oxford University

The witch as a symbol

By the 18th century, the witch trials were beginning to fade into history, and a new, more satirical tone began to emerge in art. Suzannah and An study ‘Witches’ Sabbath’ by Claude Gillot. Created more than a century after the Dürer print, this etching is fantastical and almost comical. It depicts a chaotic scene of a witches’ sabbath, but it does so in a way that suggests it’s a social and political critique. The artwork reveals that by this time, the witch had moved from being a terrifying threat to a symbol for artists to satirise their contemporary world.

As Suzannah notes, every time we talk about witches in this period, we’re also talking about something else: female sexuality, the study of science, political satire, and religious persecution. The art shows that the witch was a figure onto which people projected their deepest societal anxieties. This is a powerful reminder that these images were not just reflections of people’s fear of magic, but also their unease with changes in society, religion, and politics.

The witch bottle

The Ashmolean Museum’s collection offers more than just artistic portrayals of witches. Suzannah is given a chance to examine one of the most curious objects in the museum: a witch’s bottle. These stoneware jugs were sealed with a cork and often buried beneath the thresholds or in the walls of houses as a form of protection against harmful magic.

Professor Suzannah Lipscomb (left) is shown a witch’s bottle by Ashmolean Museum curator An Van Camp (right).

Image Credit: History Hit / Ashmolean Museum

Inside the bottles, people would place items believed to repel or absorb the witch’s power, such as sharp iron nails, bent pins, and sometimes even the urine or hair of a person believed to be bewitched. This tangible artefact reveals a world where fears of witchcraft weren’t abstract – they were a constant and terrifying reality that people actively sought to fight against.

The Ashmolean’s collection provides a unique and compelling insight into early modern fears. It demonstrates how deeply ideas of witchcraft ran through the daily lives of people, from the highest artist to the most common person seeking to protect their home. Through these enduring objects, we can begin to understand the complex anxieties and beliefs of a culture grappling with the unseen forces of the world.

Join Professor Suzannah Lipscomb and An Van Camp as they uncover the hidden fears and fantasies of the early modern world in The Ashmolean Up Close: Witches in Picture.

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