Mary’s uncle was King Charles II, and her maternal grandfather, Edward Hyde, 1st Earl of Clarendon, had been the architect of the restoration of Charles, returning her family to the throne she would one day inherit.

As heir to the throne, and later queen as one half of Britain’s first joint monarchy, Mary’s life was full of drama and challenge.

1. She was an avid learner

As a young girl, Mary learned the languages of English, Dutch and French and was described by her tutor as ‘an absolute mistress’ of the French language. She loved playing the lute and harpsichord, and she was a keen dancer, taking leading roles in ballet performances at court.

She maintained a love of reading for her whole life, and in 1693 established the College of William and Mary in Virginia. She also enjoyed gardening and played a key role in the design of the gardens at Hampton Court Palace and at Honselaarsdijk Palace in the Netherlands.

Mary by Jan Verkolje, 1685

Image Credit: Jan Verkolje, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

2. She married her first cousin, William of Orange

Mary was the daughter of James, Duke of York, son of Charles I. William of Orange was the only son of William II, Prince of Orange, and Mary, Princess Royal, daughter of King Charles I. The future King and Queen William and Mary were, therefore, first cousins.

3. She wept when she was told William would be her husband

Although King Charles II was keen on the marriage, Mary was not. Her sister, Anne, called William ‘Caliban’ as his physical appearance (blackened teeth, a hooked nose and short stature) resembled the monster in Shakespeare’s The Tempest. It didn’t help that, at 5 feet 11 inches Mary towered over him by 5 inches, and she wept when the betrothal was announced. Nevertheless, William and Mary were wed on 4 November 1677, and on 19 November they set sail to William’s kingdom in the Netherlands. Mary was 15 years old.

4. Her father became king but was overthrown by her husband

Charles II died in 1685 and Mary’s father became King James II. However, in a country that had become largely Protestant, James’ religious policies were unpopular. He attempted to give equality to Roman Catholics and Protestant dissenters, and when parliament objected he prorogued it and ruled alone, promoting Catholics to key military, political and academic posts.

In 1688, James and his wife had a baby boy, generating fears that a Catholic succession was certain. A group of Protestant nobles appealed to William of Orange to invade. William landed in November 1688, and James’ military deserted him, causing him to flee abroad. Parliament declared that his flight constituted an abdication. The throne of England needed a new monarch.

James II by Peter Lely, circa 1650-1675

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

5. William and Mary’s coronation required new furniture

On 11 April 1689, the coronation of William and Mary took place in Westminster Abbey. But as a joint coronation had never taken place before, there was only one ancient coronation chair commissioned by King Edward I in 1300-1301. So, a second coronation chair was made for Mary, which is today on display in the Abbey.

William and Mary also took a new form of coronation oath. Rather than swearing to confirm the laws and customs granted to the English people by former monarchs, William and Mary pledged to govern according to the statutes agreed in parliament. This was a recognition of limits on monarchical power to prevent the types of abuses which James II and Charles I were infamous for.

6. Her father placed a curse on her

At the time of her coronation, James II wrote to Mary telling her that being crowned was a choice, and to do so whilst he was living was wrong. Worse still, James said, “the curse of an outraged father would light upon her, as well as of that God who has commanded duty to parents”. Mary was reportedly devastated.

7. Mary led a moral revolution

Mary wanted to set an example of piety and devotion. Services in royal chapels became frequent, and sermons were shared with the public (King Charles II shared an average of three sermons a year, whilst Mary shared 17).

Some men in the army and navy had earned reputations for gambling and using women for sex. Mary tried to crack down on these vices. Mary also tried to stamp out drunkenness, swearing and abuse of the Lord’s Day (Sundays). Magistrates were ordered to monitor for rule-breakers, with one contemporary historian noting Mary even had magistrates stop people for driving their carriages or eating pies and puddings in the street on a Sunday.

Mary’s husband, William of Orange, by Godfrey Kneller

Image Credit: Godfrey Kneller, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

8. Mary played an important role in government

William was often away fighting and a great deal of business was conducted by letter. Whilst many of these letters have been lost, the ones that survive plus others referred to in letters between secretaries of state, reveal that orders were passed directly to the Queen from the King, which she then communicated to the council. For example, the King sent her his battle plans in 1692, which she then explained to the ministers.

9. She had a long relationship with another woman

As dramatised in the film The Favourite, Mary’s sister Anne had intimate relations with women. But so did Mary. Mary’s first relationship began when she was 13 with the young female courtier, Frances Aspley, whose father was in James II’s household. Mary played the role of the young, loving wife, writing letters expressing devotion to her ‘dearest, dearest, dear husband’. Mary continued the relationship even after her marriage to William, telling Frances “I love you of all things in the world”.

10. Her funeral was one of the largest in British royal history

Mary fell ill in December 1694 with smallpox and died three days after Christmas. She was 32. Bells tolled at the Tower of London every minute that day to announce her death. After being embalmed, Mary’s body was placed in an open casket in February 1695 and publicly mourned at Banqueting House on Whitehall. For a fee, the public could pay their respects, and huge crowds gathered each day.

On 5 March 1695, the funeral procession began (in a snow storm) from White Hall to Westminster Abbey. Sir Christopher Wren designed a railed walk for the mourners, and for the first time in English history, the coffin of a monarch was accompanied by both houses of parliament.

Heartbroken, William III did not attend, having proclaimed, “If I lose her, I shall be done with the world”. Over the years, he and Mary had grown to love one another dearly. Mary lies buried in a vault in the south aisle of Henry VII’s chapel, not far from her mother Anne. Only a small stone marks her grave.

On 17 October, 4 prominent regicides were hung drawn and quartered in front of large crowds. Thomas Scott, Gregory Clements, Colonel Adrian Scrope and Colonel John Jones were the names of the men who died that day, in one of the most excruciating and humiliating ways possible.

The penalty for high treason

Hanging drawing and quartering involved being hanged until nearly dead, before being let down, castrated, disemboweled, beheaded and then chopped into pieces. Before they died, these men would see their bowels burned before their eyes.

Such a punishment was reserved for those guilty of the crime of high treason: plotting or carrying out murder against a king. For the Royalists, such a heinous crime fully merited this punishment.

Anyone who had signed the death warrant of Charles I would have known that if the monarchy ever returned, their lives would be in great danger. Not only were they guilty of treason, but any new king would want to make an example of them too.

A study of Charles I by Anthony van Dyck.

Image Credit: Public Domain

Scott was the first to die

Like the other three, Thomas Scott had been allowed a visit from his family, in what must have been an excruciating ordeal for all involved. He had been a parliamentary radical for a long time. He had always favoured a tough stance against Charles during the Civil War and was vociferous in his support for his execution.

He would also oppose Oliver Cromwell’s power as Lord Protector just as vehemently as it edged ever closer to something resembling monarchical power.

When Charles II took the throne Scott fled to Flanders, but he subsequently surrendered in Brussels. Scott’s involvement in the regicide was well documented, and he had made his involvement known: he was doomed as soon as the vengeful Charles settled into power.

Scott was put on trial: it was a farce, with the jury instructed to find the regicides guilty, but it did allow Scott a chance to attempt to justify his actions both to his peers and for the history books.

Like many of the other regicides, and indeed Charles himself, he faced the executioner with remarkable courage. Once on the scaffold, Scott launched into a speech about liberty and the righteousness of his cause, declaring

I say again; to the Praise of the Free Grace of God; I bless His name He hath engaged me in a Cause, not to be Repented of, I say, Not to be Repented of.

Clements followed

Gregory Clements was one of the less well-known regicides: his signature, 54th on the document, seems to have been written over an erased signature below, perhaps suggesting he was not one of the leading regicides.

An MP for Fowey in Cornwall, he was dismissed from Parliament in 1652 following a scandal with a maidservant. Clements may not have been a powerful figure, but he still signed the warrant and so his life was in danger following the Restoration.

Instead of fleeing, Clements went into hiding: he was spotted and his identity revealed. Initially pleading innocent, he eventually admitted his guilt and was indicted on charges of high treason and subsequently executed.

Then Scrope

Colonel Adrian Scrope was a wealthy Buckinghamshire landowner and later a Parliamentarian soldier. He acted as head of security during Charles’ trial, was present every day and eventually signed his death warrant too. He had, however, played little role in the Protectorate and had voiced no opposition to the return of the Charles II.

Originally, Scrope complied with the command for the regicides to surrender, and the Commons ruled he could be fined and discharged. However, the Lords decided to exclude him from the indemnity act and he was found guilty of high treason and sentenced to death.

The old soldier was so accepting of his death that he fell asleep while waiting to be taken to the block after the deaths of Scott and Clements. His death was noted as being particularly courageous and one contemporary noted that Scrope “had the honour to die a noble martyr.” His body was returned to his family for burial as a favour rather than being put on display like the others executed at Charing Cross that day.

Colonel Adrian Scrope was the 27th of the 59 Commissioners who signed the death warrant of King Charles I., Painting by Robert Walker (died 1658).

Image Credit: Public Domain

And lastly Jones

Finally, that left Jones, another old soldier and a man who spoke Welsh as his native language. A fanatical republican in a country which stayed fervently royalist, he was known at one point as “the most hated man in Wales.”

Unlike Scrope, Jones had no prospect of escaping the King’s justice. He had been both a judge and a signatory at Charles I’s trial, which he had attended almost every day. Jones, who was 63 by 1660, made no attempt to plead innocence and remained defiantly proud of the crime of regicide.

The executioner who had seen to the deaths of the other three was now so sick of his grisly task that the castration and disemboweling of the aged Welshman had to be carried out by a young apprentice. Jones met his death so courageously that some contemporaries believed miracles to have happened in his name, such as the flowering of a tree in winter on his estates.

Traitors or martyrs?

This was not the end of Charles II’s revenge, which had added another two regicides to its body count by 19 October. However, 17 October would live on in the memory for its simple brutality, the courage of the doomed men, and the way four were killed in such a short space of time: all at Charing Cross.

Their deaths can be seen in many ways. Some might argue that as killers of a king they had to be punished, especially with Charles II’s position on the throne far from secure. Those of a more idealistic nature however, might see them as martyrs for a cause of liberty and republicanism.

The Battle of Edgehill was fought on 23 October 1642. After the fighting, the Parliamentarians retreated to Warwick, and the Royalists made tracks south, but failed to monopolise on the open road to London. Edgehill was not the decisive, one-off battle everyone had hoped for. It was the start of a long slog of years of war, tearing the fabric of Britain apart.

The Earl of Essex and Charles I may have moved on, but they left behind a trail of bloodshed and upheaval. Corpses which littered the fields were tossed into mass graves. For those who survived, they were pretty much ruined, becoming dependent on local charity. One Royalist’s account of Kineton stated: “the Earle of Essex left behind him in the village 200 miserable maimed solders, without relief of money or surgeons, horribly crying out upon the villainy of those men who corrupted them.”

“They Could Not Believe They Were Mortal”

But the horrors of Edgehill didn’t end there. A report was commissioned by Charles I, to report on the remarkable rumours which had reached him:

“On Saturday, which was in Christmas time . . . between twelve and one of the clock in the morning, was heard by some shepherds first the sound of drums afar off and the noise of soldiers giving out their last groans; at which they were much amazed, and amazed stood still, till it seemed by the nearness of the noise to approach them; at which, too much affrighted, they sought to withdraw as fast as possibly they could.”

But then a great vision filled the sky “of strange and portentous apparitions of two jarring and contrary armies – the same incorporeal soldiers that made those clamours, the clattering of arms, noise of cannons, ensigns displayed, drums beating, muskets going off, cannons discharged, horses neighing, cries of soldiers, and the two armies – pell-mell to it they went. So amazing and terrifying the poor men, that they could not believe they were mortal, or give credit to their eyes and ears; run away they durst not, for fear of being made a prey to these infernal soldiers, and so they, with much fear and affright, stayed to behold the success of the business.”

The Edgehill battlefield, where the spectres appeared.

After three hours of fighting the apparitions vanished into the night sky. “The shepherds made haste to Kineton, where they woke up Mr. Wood, a Justice of Peace, and his neighbour, Mr. Marshall, the Minister.”

“Those hellish and prodigious enemies”

“The following night, all the substantial inhabitants of that and the neighbouring parishes drew thither; where, about half an hour after their arrival, on Sunday, being Christmas night, appeared in the same tumultuous warlike manner, the same two adverse armies, fighting with as much spite and spleen as formerly; and so departed the gentlemen and all the spectators, much terrified with these visions of horror, withdrew themselves to their houses, beseeching God to defend them from those hellish and prodigious enemies.”

Over the coming weeks, there were so many sightings by the villagers of Kineton that news of the spectres reached King Charles, who was based in Oxford. A Royal Commission of 6 officers were informed to “report upon these prodigies, and to tranquillise and disabuse the alarms of a country town”.

But on visiting the battlefield, the officers who had fought at the battle confirmed the apparitions, and even identified some of the soldiers. They saw Sir Edmund Verney, the king’s standard bearer. During the battle, it’s said the Parliamentarians chopped his hand off in order to obtain the Royal Standard, which, when recovered by the Royalists, was said to still have Sir Edmund’s dismembered hand clinging on.

The officers confirmed the visions, and even recognised the figure of Sir Edmund Verney, the king’s standard bearer.  (Image Source: Alamy)

The officers drew up this report, named ‘A Great Wonder in Heaven, showing the late apparitions and prestigious Noises of the War and Battles, seen at Edgehill, near Kineton’. Ever since it was published on 23 January 1643, the Edgehill phantoms are the only ghosts to be officially recognised by the British Public Record Office.

According to those 6 officers, the phantoms were a divine omen: “doubtlessly it is a sign of His wrath against this land, for these civil wars.”

With bodies still littering the battlefield, locals from nearby villages apparently set about retrieving them, giving each a Christian burial so that their souls may find peace. The tirade of apparitions then supposedly ceased, however many since have reported hearing cannon fire, battle cries and horses’ hooves echoing over the old battlefield, particularly around the anniversary of the event.

Following his execution in 1649, much of the collection was sold off at a fraction of its true worth in an attempt by the newly established Commonwealth to raise funds. A large number of works were bought back during the Restoration, but the whereabouts of many of them have been lost to history.

The legend of Charles’ magnificent collection has captured the imagination of art historians for centuries: but what made it so remarkable and what happened to it?

A passionate collector

Charles’ passion for art was said to stem from a trip to Spain in 1623: it was here he was first exposed to the pomp and majesty of the Spanish court, as well as the extensive collection of works by Titian the Habsburgs had amassed. On the same trip, he bought his first piece by Titian, Woman with a Fur Coat, and spent ruinously, despite the trip’s purpose – securing a marriage alliance between Charles and the Infanta of Spain – failing miserably.

Woman in a Fur Coat (1536-8) by Titian

Image Credit: Public Domain

Following his accession to the throne in 1625, Charles rapidly began purchasing a splendid new collection. The Dukes of Mantua sold much of their collection to Charles through an agent, and he rapidly began acquiring other works by Titian, da Vinci, Mantegna and Holbein, as well as investing in Northern European pieces too. This was a watershed moment in the history of English royal art collections: Charles far surpassed his predecessors and his exacting taste and style meant a piece of Europe’s vibrant visual culture was fostered in England for the first time.

Charles appointed Anthony van Dyck as the chief court painter, and commissioned portraits of himself and his family by Rubens and Velazquez. Many consider it somewhat poignant that one of the last things Charles would have seen before his execution was the ornate Rubens ceiling of the Banqueting House in Whitehall which Charles commissioned and later had installed in the 1630s.

Good taste

As king, it was difficult for Charles for travel and see paintings in the flesh before buying them. Instead, he began to rely increasingly on agents who scoured Europe’s collections and sales for him. He was said to not only be a feverish collector, but a fussy one too. He had specific tastes and wanted a broad collection: in his desire to acquire a da Vinci, he traded two valuable paintings by Holbein and Titian.

Whilst Charles’ new collection was certainly a symbol of royal power, glory and superior taste, it did not come cheap. Money for the purchases had to be raised somehow, and the cost far outstripped that which the royal coffers alone could afford. Firstly through Parliament, and later through a series of archaic taxes and levies during his personal rule, Charles ensured that a large part of the financial burden of his magnificent new collection fell on his subjects. Unsurprisingly, this did little to help his reputation amongst Parliament and his subjects.

In an unprecedented turn of events, Charles was executed in 1649 on grounds of treason and his goods and property were seized by the new government of the Commonwealth. After nearly a decade of civil war, the new government was in dire need of money. Helped by an inventory of Charles’ paintings compiled in the late 1630s, they assessed and remade an inventory of the late king’s collection and then held one of the most remarkable art sales in history.

The ceiling of the Banqueting House, Whitehall. Commissioned by Charles I in c. 1629, he was executed just outside.

Image Credit: Michel wal / CC

Everything that could be sold from Charles’ art collection was. Some soldiers and former palace staff who had wages in arrears were permitted to take paintings which were of equivalent worth: one of the royal household’s former plumbers walked away with a 16th century masterpiece by Jacopo Bossano that is now in the Royal Collection.

Other, relatively ordinary people, snapped up pieces which are only just resurfacing after decades in private collections. Unusually, everyone and anyone was welcome to attend the sale and purchase pieces: it was distinctly competitive.

Many of Europe’s royal houses – horrified by events in England – were no less savvy, buying up assorted Titians and van Dycks for relatively low prices for their own collections. In the face of a bargain, the fact that their money was fuelling a new republican regime seemed to pale into insignificance.

Detailed bills of sale were made by Cromwell’s new regime, detailing the price each piece was sold for and who bought it. Artists like Rembrandt, who are universally known and sought after in the art world today, were virtual nobodies at this point, selling for pittance compared to the artistic giants of the day like Titian and Rubens, whose work was snapped up for much larger sums.

What happened next?

Following the restoration of the monarchy in 1660, the new king, Charles II, made attempts to buy back what he could of his father’s collection, but many had left England and entered other royal collections across Europe.

Extensive investigative work means that the identity and whereabouts of roughly one third of Charles’ collection has been determined, but that still leaves over 1,000 pieces which have effectively disappeared, either into private collections, destroyed, lost or repainted over the years or because they had descriptions which have made it nigh impossible to trace specific pieces.

The Royal Collection holds around 100 items today, with other scattered over the world’s major galleries and collections. The true splendour of the full collection will never be re-created, but it has achieved somewhat legendary status amongst historians and art historians in the modern world.

More importantly, Charles’ legacy continues to define British royal collections today: from the way in which he portrayed himself to the styles and variety he collected, Charles ensured his art collection was at the forefront of aesthetics and taste and set a standard which his successors have strived to achieve since.

However, ten years later they decided to invite Charles I’s 30-year old son – also called Charles – back to England and reinstate the monarchy. So why did they go to all the trouble of deposing a King only to invite him back?

Bringing back the King

England’s problem was that a significant majority never wanted to get rid of the monarchy completely. There were radical voices calling for the introduction of new freedoms and democracy, but these were very much on the fringes.

For most people, the news that England had been turned into a Republic was shocking and a desire to return to the traditional English constitution – a stable country with a king who would behave himself within reason – remained.

The problem lay with King Charles I and his refusal to compromise even when he had little other choice. After his capture at the end of the first Civil War negotiations proceeded to place him back on the throne.

He did have to make a number of concessions if the Parliamentarians were to reinstate him however – promising that he would not target Parliament’s leaders and that he would devolve power. Charles’ belief in the Divine Right of Kings ensured he was particularly averse to the latter demand.

Rather than accepting the concessions, Charles escaped his captors, fled north and tried to forge an alliance with the Scots.

The plan backfired. The Scottish Presbyterian army entered negotiations with Parliament for the handing over of the suppliant king and pretty soon Charles found himself in custody of the Parliamentarians again.

By this time attitudes had hardened. Charles’ intransigence seemed to make peace impossible. As long as he remained on the throne, it seemed, war would continue. The only choice was to kill the King.

Charles I on horseback by Anthony Van Dyck. Image credit: Public Domain.

Life without kings

With Charles gone England was now a commonwealth led by the powerful hand of Oliver Cromwell, but pretty soon he found governing the country was not as easy as he might have liked. First there was a kingdom to secure. Charles I might be gone, but his son was still at large.

The young man who would later be Charles II raised his own army to challenge Parliament. He met with little more success than his father and was defeated by Cromwell at the Battle of Worcester on 3 September 1651. Legend has it that he hid in a tree to evade Parliament’s forces.

Furthermore, Cromwell soon had his own problems with Parliament. In 1648 Parliament had been purged of all those who were not supportive of the New Model Army and the Independents. Even so, the remaining Rump Parliament was in no mood to simply do Cromwell’s bidding and in 1653 Cromwell dismissed it and set up a protectorate instead.

Although Cromwell refused the Crown, he was King in all but name and soon started to show royal tendencies. He governed in much the same way Charles had, only recalling parliament when he had to raise money.

Strict religious order

Cromwell’s regime soon became unpopular. Strict observance of Protestantism was enforced, theatres were shut down and ale houses across the country closed. Military failures in a war against Spain damaged his reputation abroad, and England was largely isolated from her European neighbours, who were fearful revolution and discontent would spread to the continent.

However, Oliver Cromwell was a strong leader: he provided a powerful figurehead, commanded widespread support (particularly from the New Model Army) and had an iron grip on power.

When he died in 1658 rule passed to his son Richard. Richard soon proved to be not as proficient as his father had been: Oliver had run the country into debt, and left a power vacuum as head of the army.

Parliament and the New Model Army became increasingly suspicious of each others’ intentions and the atmosphere became increasingly hostile. Eventually, under the command of George Monck, the army forced Cromwell from power – he resigned his position as Lord Protector peacefully to resign with a pension.

This paved the way for the return of Charles I’s exiled, namesake son; an opening for the return of a monarch had appeared.

Parliament began negotiations with the young Charles to bring him back to the throne on condition that he agree to certain concessions. Charles – who was a little more flexible than his father – agreed and was crowned in 1660. Charles had his coronation a year later and England had a King once more.

Portrait of Oliver Cromwell by Samuel Cooper (c. 1656). Image credit: NPG / CC.

1. Battle of Edgehill: 23 October 1642

This was the first battle of the Civil War: it had become clear the constitutional compromise between Parliamentarians and Royalists simply was not going to work. However, had the Royalists had been a little more disciplined it could have also been the last.

After Charles fled London he made his way north to raise an army. The country quickly began to divide between the conservative north which largely proclaimed for the King and the south which veered towards Parliament.

The two sides met at Edgehill, not far from London. The Parliamentarians were commanded by the Earl of Essex who had been ordered to halt Charles’ march on London. The Royalists on the other hand, were led by Prince Rupert, nephew to the King and veteran of the 30 Years War.

An initial charge by Rupert and his cavalry seemed to turn the battle decisively in Charles’ favour. Much of the Parliamentarian cavalry fled, but instead of returning to the battlefield and securing the victory, Rupert and his horsemen went off in search of the baggage train and plunder. This mistake – not rallying to attack enemy infantry – cropped up time and time again in battles, and continually proved to be a problem in Royalist tactics.

In their absence the remaining Parliamentarian cavalry regiments attacked the Royalists. The two sides fought one another to a standstill and eventually agreed to call it a draw. Charles retreated to Oxford which he set up as a winter base.

2. Battle of Newbury: 20 September 1643

After Edgehill the Royalists began asserting their control, taking much of Yorkshire and winning a string of victories in the West. By now the Earl of Essex was leading the only Parliamentarian army in the field, but he was in trouble.

After marching to relieve a siege at Gloucester he found it difficult to maintain his supply lines. He began making preparations for a retreat back to London. Charles moved to stop him and blocked his path at Newbury.

The first day saw heavy fighting between the two sides with no clear winner. That night, as both sides rested, Charles made the decision to withdraw against the advice of his commanders. The Royalists were low on ammunition and it was becomingly increasingly clear that their soldiers were far from professional.

The next morning Essex, to his surprise and relief, discovered that the Royalists had left the field and his route to London was clear. He arrived back to jubilant crowds. Charles had missed his chance to destroy the Parliamentarians and from then on his cause began to suffer.

Many historians consider this to be one of the most important battles of the Civil War: this was as far as the royalists ever managed to advance, and their loss marked a turning point in their fortunes.

3. Battle of Marston Moor: 2 July 1644

Oliver Cromwell at the battle of Marston Moor by Abraham Cooper (1821). Image credit: Public Domain.

Marston Moor was the largest battle of the Civil War (over 40,000 men were involved) and marked a major turning point. In 1644 York was being besieged by parliamentarian and Scottish troops. Charles ordered Rupert to relieve the siege and he headed North with the full force of his much feared cavalry.

But there was a new opponent on the scene. Oliver Cromwell, an MP, had risen quickly through the ranks and his Ironside cavalrymen were developing a reputation to rival Rupert’s.

Early on it seemed as if the royalists held the upper hand as Rupert’s cavalry charges inflicted heavy losses. However, Cromwell led his cavalry behind royalist lines and attacked from the rear. Although the Royalists put up a brave fight they were unable to defeat the numerically superior force of Scots and Parliamentarians.

The victory handed York and the north to the Parliamentarians. It popped the myth of Rupert’s invincibility and almost destroyed the Royalist army in the north. The Royalists also lost access to ports in the North through which they had been getting aid from Europe.

4. Battle of Naseby: 14 June 1645

After Marston Moor, Cromwell established the New Model Army – a highly disciplined professional fighting force. Commanded by himself and Thomas Fairfax, it began to turn the tide of the war and would prove crucial in achieving a landmark battle at Naseby.

Parliamentarian forces had been besieging the Royalist stronghold of Oxford, but were surprised by Royalists launching an attack on the city of Leicester. Fairfax chased Royalist forces, who eventually decided to turn and fight.

Again an initial charge from Rupert’s cavalry was successful but once again they headed off in search of the Parliamentarian baggage train rather than finishing off the fight. The Parliamentarians were able to regroup and defeat the Royalist infantry. When Rupert returned to the battlefield his cavalry refused to fight: over 5,000 Royalist soldiers were captured, and a further 1,000 killed: it was a disaster for Royalist forces.

The battle was lost and with it the war. This was the beginning of the end for Charles. He had lost his main army and his baggage train was captured in the aftermath of the battle, revealing correspondences showed he had been seeking Catholic help from Ireland and Europe. Support flooded towards Parliament, and Charles lost face amongst many of his supporters.

In April 1646 he fled the besieged Oxford and surrendered to the Scots who then handed him over to Parliament. The first Civil War was ended. Charles would later escape and restart the war, but he was swiftly recaptured and royalist rebellions put down.

It was only a chance meeting of the Parliamentarian and Royalist quartermasters, both scouring around the villages of South Warwickshire, when it became clear the Royalist and Parliamentarian armies were closer than anyone had realised. It was only a matter of time before battle would commence.

Robert Devereux and The Roundheads

The Parliamentarian army was led by the Robert Devereux, the third Earl of Essex, an unwavering Protestant with a long military career in the 30 years war. His father, the Earl, had been executed for plotting against Elizabeth I, and now, it was his turn to take a stance against Royal authority.

Devereux’s father had been executed for plotting against Elizabeth I. (Image Credit: Public Domain)

On Saturday 22 October, 1642, Essex and the Parliamentarian army based in the village of Kineton. It would have been swarming with the sounds, smells and paraphernalia of a 17th-century baggage train. Around 15,000 soldiers, well over a 1,000 horses and 100s of wagons and carts, would have swamped this tiny village.

At 8 o’clock the next morning, a Sunday, Essex headed to Kineton church. Although he knew Charles’ army was encamped nearby, he was suddenly informed that just 3 miles away, 15,000 Royalist troops were already in position, and hungry for a fight.

The King Is Your Cause, Quarrel and Captain

As Essex scrambled to prepare his men for war, morale on the Royalist side was high. After praying in his private apartments, Charles dressed in a black velvet cloak lined with ermine and addressed his officers.

“Your King is both your cause, your quarrel and your captain. The foe is in sight. The best encouragement I can give you is this, that come life or death, your King will bear you company, and ever keep this field, this place, and this day’s service with his grateful remembrance”

Charles was said to provokie “Huzza’s through the whole army”. (Image Credit: Public Domain)

Charles had no experience in war, the closest he’d ever come to an army was spying at one through a telescope. But he knew the power of his presence, and was said to have spoken “with great Courage and Cheerfullness”, provoking “Huzza’s through the whole army”. It was no mean feat to rally 15,000 men.

Rallying cries and Strengths of Conviction

For the Parliamentarians gathering in the fields outside Kineton (now an MOD base) this roar from the top of the ridge must have been unnerving. But they too were rallied. They were commanded to call upon their ancestors, to have conviction in their cause, that to remember that the Royalist troops were “Papists, Athiests and irreligious persons”. The well-known “Soldiers’ Prayer” was given before the battle:

O Lord, Thou Knowest how busy I must be this day. If I forget Thee, do not Thou forget me

Both armies were pretty equally matched, and around 30,000 men gathered on these fields that day, brandishing 16 foot pikes, muskets, flintlock pistols, carbines, and for some, anything they could get their hands on.

About 30,000 men fought at the Battle of Edgehill, with Royalists donning a red sash and Parliamentarians an orange. (Image Credit: Alamy).

The Battle Commences

At around midday, the Royalist army moved off the ridge to face the adversary in the eye. At 2pm the dull boom of the parliamentary cannon blasted through the Warwickshire countryside, and the two sides traded canon shot for about an hour.

This is the view the Royalists had from the top of Edgehill, on the morning of the battle.

Prince Rupert’s Famous Cavalry Charge

Just as the Parliamentarians seemed to be gaining the upper hand, Charles 23-year-old nephew, Prince Rupert of the Rhine, pulled off a terrific attack.

Some thought Rupert was an intolerable youth – arrogant, boorish and impudent. Even that morning he had driven the Earl of Lindsey to storm off in rage, refusing to lead the infantry. Henrietta Maria had warned:

He should have someone to advise him for believe me he is yet very young and self-willed … He is a person capable of doing anything he is ordered, but he is not to be trusted to take a single step of his own head.

Rupert (right), painted with his brother in 1637 by Anthony Van Dyck – five years before the Battle of Edgehill. (Image Credit: Public Domain)

But despite his youth, Rupert had experience of leading calvary regiments in the 30 Years War. At Edgehill, he directed the cavalry to be a kind of battering-ram, thundering into opponents in a single mass, and driving the enemy back with such a force it was impossible to resist.

Rupert’s famous cavalry charge left the Royalist infantry unprotected and vulnerable. (Image Credit: Public Domain).

The future James II was watching on,

“the Royalists march’d up with all the gallantry and resolution imaginable … while they advanced the Enemy’s cannon continually played upon them as did the small Divisions of their Foot … neither of which did in the least discompose them so much as to mend their pace”

The Push of Pikes

Back at Edgehill, a fierce infantry fight raged. It would have been a deadly environment – musket shot whizzing past, cannon blowing men to smitherines, and 16-foot pikes driving into anything that it came across.

The Earl of Essex fought in the action of the battle, including the ‘push of pikes’. (Image Credit: Alamy)

The Earl of Essex was deep in the action in a deadly tustle known as the ‘push of pikes’, Charles galloped up and down the lines crying out encouragement from a distance.

After two and a half hours of fighting and 1,500 men slain and hundreds more wounded, both armies were exhausted and running short of ammunition. The October light was fast fading, and the battle petered out into a stalemate.

The battle petered out into a stalemate, and no clear winner was declared. (Image Source: Alamy)

Both sides encamped for the night near the field, surrounded by frozen corpses and the moans of dying men. For the night was biting cold, so much so that some of the wounded survived – their wounds froze over and prevented infection or bleeding to death.

A Trail of Bloodshed

Edgehill saw no clear victor. The Parliamentarians retreated to Warwick, and the Royalists made tracks south, but failed to monopolise on the open road to London. Edgehill was not the decisive, one-off battle everyone had hoped for. It was the start of a long slog of years of war, tearing the fabric of Britain apart.

Whilst the armies may have moved on, they left behind a trail of dying and maimed soldiers. (Image Credit: Alamy)

Essex and Charles may have moved on, but they left behind a trail of bloodshed and upheaval. Corpses which littered the fields were tossed into mass graves. For those who survived, they were pretty much ruined, becoming dependent on local charity. One Royalist account of Kineton:

“the Earle of Essex left behind him in the village 200 miserable maimed solders, without relief of money or surgeons, horribly crying out upon the villainy of those men who corrupted them”

A demure beauty frozen in time through Anthony van Dyck’s portraiture, Henrietta was in fact headstrong, devoted and more than willing to engage in politics to assist the king. Caught in the midst of one of England’s most volatile centuries, she navigated leadership how she knew best; with devout faith, deep love, and an unwavering belief in her family’s divine right to rule.

The French Princess

Henrietta began her life at the court of her father Henry IV of France and Marie de’Medici, after both of whom she is affectionately named.

As a child, she was no stranger to the turbulent nature of court politics and the growing power struggles surrounding religion. When she was just seven months old, her father was assassinated by a Catholic fanatic claiming to be guided by visions, and her 9 year-old brother was forced to assume the throne.

Henrietta Maria as a child, by Frans Porbus the Younger, 1611.

What followed were years of tension, with her family embroiled in a series of vicious power-plays including in 1617 a coup d’état that saw the young king exile his own mother out of Paris. Henrietta, although the youngest daughter of the family, became a vital asset as France looked outward for allies. At 13, serious talks of marriage began.

Initial encounters

Enter a young Charles, then Prince of Wales. In 1623, he and flamboyant favourite the Duke of Buckingham set out incognito on a boys trip abroad to woo the foreign princess. He met Henrietta in France, before moving swiftly on to Spain. 

It was the Spanish Infanta, Maria Anna, who was the target of this secret mission. She was however highly unimpressed by the prince’s antics when he showed up unannounced, and refused to see him. Unfazed by this, on one occasion Charles literally jumped a wall into the garden where Maria Anna was walking in order to speak with her. She duly responded in screams, and fled the scene. 

Maria Anna of Spain whom Charles had first planned to wed, by Diego Velazquez, 1640.

The Spanish trip may not have been entirely in vain however. One evening the Queen of Spain, Elizabeth de Bourbon, pulled the young prince aside. The two spoke in her native language of French, and she expressed her desire to see him wed her beloved youngest sister, one Henrietta Maria. 

‘Love pours out lilies mixed with roses’

With the Spanish Match now soured, (so much so that England were gearing for war with Spain), James I turned his attention to France, and marriage negotiations for his son Charles moved quickly.

The teenage Henrietta was full of romantic notions when Charles’ ambassador arrived. She requested a miniature portrait of the prince, and opened it with such anticipation that she could not put it down for an hour. Coins commemorating their marriage would state ‘Love pours out lilies mixed with roses’, combining the two emblems of France and England.

Charles I and Henrietta Maria by Anthony van Dyck, 1632.

Lighthearted visions of love soon became more serious however. A month before the wedding, James I suddenly died and Charles ascended the throne aged 24. Henrietta would be thrust into queenship upon her immediate arrival into England.

At a mere 15 herself, she made the intimidating journey across the channel, barely able to speak the language. Henrietta was more than up to the challenge however, as a courtier noted her confidence and wit, asserting with glee that she was certainly ‘not afraid of her shadow’.

Staunch Catholic

Charged with simultaneously promoting Catholicism in England and assimilating herself with a Protestant English court, Henrietta was dealt a difficult hand from the outset. Anti-Catholic sentiment was still rife from Mary I’s bloody reign, thus when her vast entourage of 400 Catholics, including 28 priests, arrived in Dover, many saw it as a papal invasion.

She was unwilling to compromise on what she believed to be the ‘true religion’ however, much to the English court’s dismay.

A Catholic coronation was out of the question, and so she refused to be crowned. She did not refer to herself as ‘Queen Mary’ as had been decided for her, and continued to sign her letters ‘Henriette R.’ When the king tried to dismiss her French entourage, she climbed out of her chamber window and threatened to jump. Perhaps this girl would be something of a problem.

This was not mere stubbornness however. Her marriage contract had promised Catholic tolerance, and it had not delivered. She felt it was her right to honour her upbringing, her true faith, and her conscience at her new court, not to mention the wishes of the Pope himself who had assigned her the ‘saviour’ of the English people. No pressure.

‘Eternally thine’

Despite their rocky beginnings, Henrietta and Charles would come to love one another deeply. Charles addressed each letter ‘Dear Heart’, and signed off ‘eternally thine’, and the pair went on to have seven children together. In behaviour highly uncommon for royal parents, they were an extremely close family, insisting on eating meals together and recording the children’s ever-changing heights on an oaken staff.

Five of Henrietta Maria and Charles I’s children. The future Charles II stands centre. Based on an original by Anthony Van Dyck c.1637.

The rulers’ close relationship paved the way for Henrietta to aid the king in the processes of the civil war as he grew confident and even dependent on her counsel, speaking of ‘her love that maintains my life, her kindness that upholds my courage.’

This adds a deeply personal dimension to her efforts on his behalf – she was not only defending her king, but also her beloved. Parliament would however use this deep affection in attempts to emasculate Charles and vilify Henrietta, disseminating anti-Royalist propaganda throughout the country. Having intercepted some of their letters, one parliamentary journalist mocked of the queen, ‘This is the Dear Heart which hath lost him almost three kingdoms’.

Civil War

‘By land and sea I have been in some danger, but God has preserved me’ – Henrietta Maria in a letter to Charles I, 1643.

Civil war broke out in August 1642 after years of mounting tensions between the king and Parliament. A fierce believer in divine right, Henrietta instructed Charles that to accept Parliament’s demands would be his undoing.

She worked tirelessly for the Royalist cause, travelling Europe to raise funds, pawning off her crown jewels in the process. When in England, she met key supporters to discuss strategy and distribute arms, playfully styling herself ‘Generalissima’, and often finding herself in the line of fire. Unafraid of her own shadow at 15, she maintained her nerve in the face of war at 33.

Henrietta Maria 3 years before the war began, by Anthony van Dyck, c.1639.

Again, Parliament seized upon Henrietta’s resolve to directly involve herself in the conflict, and scapegoated her for her husband’s weak government and poor ability to rule. They stressed her abnormality in flouting the roles of her gender and vilified her reorganisation of patriarchal authority, yet her determination did not falter.

When exiled in 1644 as the war worsened, she and Charles kept up constant communication, clinging to an ideology that would be their downfall in a world on the brink of constitutional change. The king implored her that if ‘the worst should come’, she must ensure their son received his ‘just inheritances’.

Following Charles’ execution in 1649, a heartbroken Henrietta worked to heed these words, and in 1660 their son was reinstated to the throne. He is now known as the fun-loving ‘king who brought back partying’, Charles II.

Charles II, by John Michael Wright c.1660-65.

With seven monarchs and two Lords Protectors, however, the period spanning 1603 to 1714 had some incredibly salacious and downright shocking sex scandals.

James I

Following the death of the last Tudor monarch, Queen Elizabeth I, her Stuart cousin King James VI of Scotland ascended the English throne.

James’s sexual preferences would likely be described as bisexual or gay today. He was quite public with his very tactile relationships with handsome men, beginning with Esmé Stuart.

Nonetheless, James married the fifteen-year-old Princess Anna of Denmark, and this union led to several children, including sons Henry and Charles.

Their marriage also produced the dynastically-important Elizabeth, later known as ‘the Winter Queen’, from whom the Hanoverians descended to succeed the Stuarts.

Following the move down to England, James struck up a relationship with a very aesthetically-pleasing young man named Robert Carr, who became his ‘favourite’ for some years.

The most intense and passionate love of James’s life, however, came later, in the form of the beautiful George Villiers, whom the king met in 1614.

Young, ambitious Villiers profited well from the king’s love and became one of the most powerful men in the country. History remembers him as the Duke of Buckingham.

George Villiers, First Duke of Buckingham, painted by Peter Paul Rubens. Image credit: Public Domain

Charles I

James and Anna’s youngest son, Charles, the ‘spare’ who became the heir following his elder brother Henry’s untimely death in 1612, was very different to his father.

Almost rigidly formal in comparison, his greatest amorous (mis)adventure was his journey to Spain in 1623 to woo the Spanish Infanta, accompanied by the Duke of Buckingham.

This proved to be a total disaster and he turned his sights to the youngest sister of King Louis XIII of France, Henrietta Maria.

Wedded by proxy in 1625, Charles bedded his seasick bride following her arrival in Dover.

The couple had a rather tempestuous early married life, but in time things improved and Charles and Henrietta Maria had many children, including future sovereigns Charles II and James II (VII).

Although Charles was a lusty fellow, he was loyal to his wife and was not known to indulge in the extramarital liaisons so common amongst others of his station.

King Charles I with Henrietta Maria and two of their children, Charles Prince of Wales, and Princess Mary, painted by Anthony van Dyck, 1633. The greyhound symbolises marital fidelity. Image credit: Royal Collection / CC.

That said, during the chaos of the Civil Wars, Charles I (by then not having seen his wife in a few years) had a sexual fling with the devoted Jane Whorwood.

Following Charles’s execution in the winter of 1649, the Three Kingdoms eventually became a republic. This period is often referred to as the Interregnum, or period between kings.

Charles II

In 1660, after a decade without a king, Charles II was welcomed back with great felicity and celebration.

A highly-sexed man, by 1660 he had already had a few amours, including with his former wetnurse, Christabella Wyndham.

Charles had a son, later known as the Duke of Monmouth, with Lucy Walter. But his strong libido was equalled in the bedchamber by a young and stunningly beautiful woman named Barbara Palmer, wife of Roger Palmer.

Their adulterous relationship led to several children, including a daughter, Anne, whose later passionate lesbian affair with her father’s mistress, Hortense Mancini, made waves.

Charles’s other mistresses included actresses such as Moll Davies and Nell Gwynn, and a wide variety of court ladies.

He married the Portuguese princess Catherine de Braganza, who had to endure his open philandering and siring of bastards whilst she remained childless.

Frances Teresa Stuart by Sir Peter Lely, c.1662-65. Image credit: Royal Collection / CC.

“The One Who Got Away” was Frances Stuart, a teenaged beauty who had the reputation of being rather silly but who inspired so great a passion in the king that it led to rumours that he would divorce Catherine of Braganza and marry Frances.

The young beauty, to her credit, resisted Charles’ considerable charms and instead eloped with another Charles Stuart, the 3rd Duke of Richmond and 6th Duke of Lennox.

James II

Charles’s younger brother, James, was (and is) considered the most handsome of the two.

Married twice, first to Anne Hyde and then to Mary of Modena, James, who was as sexually voracious as his elder brother, if not more so, chose to have extramarital sexual relationships with women who were considered rather odd choices.

His two main mistresses, Arabella Churchill (sister to John Churchill, 1^st Duke of Marlborough) and Catherine Sedley were both considered rather plain and skinny – the opposite of what was considered sexually alluring in the Stuart period.

James II ruled from 1685 until he was ousted from power in an invasion led by his son-in-law, William III of Orange.

William III and Mary II

Following the revolution of 1688, William III and his first-cousin wife, Mary II, ascended the throne as a diarchy, or joint rulers.

William III’s known sexual escapades included a drunken invasion of a lady-in-waiting’s bedchamber in his youth.

But he was a devout Calvinist and decidedly more stern in character than his very libidinous uncles, so he tended to keep his only known extramarital relationship—with Elizabeth Villiers, Mary’s childhood friend and lady-in-waiting—under close wraps.

A 1693 two guinea coin featuring the profiles of William and Mary. Image credit: Gregory Edmund / CC.

Although his political enemies bandied about rumours of his having homosexual affairs with his best friends Hans Bentinck and Arnold Joost van Keppel, these remain unsubstantiated.

Every Stuart monarch and consort following the so-called ‘Glorious Revolution’ was rumoured to be homosexual: a common tactic used to discredit a political, or in this case, royal opponent.

Mary II having died from smallpox in 1694, an intensely grief-stricken William did not remarry and died in 1702 at Kensington Palace.

His successor, Queen Anne, was a chronically ill women whose gynaecological history is amongst the most tragic in all royal history.

Anne

Each of Queen Anne‘s sixteen to eighteen pregnancies (with her beloved husband, Prince George of Denmark) resulted in either miscarriage, stillbirth, and those who were born alive went on to die in childhood.

None of their children survived into adulthood.

Anne lived her youth in the shadow of her more ebullient and attractive sister Mary, instead becoming known for her shyness, her stubbornness, and a desire to be loved—personality traits which she would have for the rest of her life.

It was during her childhood that she befriended Sarah Jennings, her senior by a decade. Sarah was everything Anne was not: shrewd, gorgeous, sharp-tongued, and confident. Anne looked up to Sarah with starry-eyed awe and admiration.

Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough by Charles Jervas. Image credit: Public Domain. 

By the time Prince George died in 1708, however, Anne had developed a friendship with Sarah’s impoverished cousin, Abigail Hill (later Masham).

Sarah had become increasingly unkind towards Anne, whilst Abigail was humble and caring…and of a different political stance.

When Sarah was ultimately ousted from her position by Abigail, she had rumours of lesbianism between the queen and her new favourite published to get back at them both.

After all, as one writer observed in 1746: ‘who breaks with her [Sarah] provokes Revenge from Hell’.

Although Charles II’s love life is the most well-known of the Stuarts of the 17th-and-early-18th centuries, each Stuart monarch certainly had their share of courtly seductions, sexual intrigues, adultery, and romance.

Andrea Zuvich is a 17th-century historian specialising in the House of Stuart (1603–1714), as well as a historical adviser and author of historical fiction. Sex and Sexuality in Stuart Britain is her first book for Pen & Sword.

1. It was the first major pitched battle of the English Civil War

Although sieges and small skirmishes had occurred prior to Edgehill, this was the first time the Parliamentarians and Royalists confronted each other with substantial numbers on the open field.

2. King Charles I and his Royalists had been marching on London

Charles had been forced to flee London back in early January 1642. As his army marched towards the capital, a Parliamentarian army intercepted them near Banbury in Oxfordshire.

3. The Parliamentarian army was commanded by the Earl of Essex

His name was Robert Devereux, a strong Protestant who had fought in the Thirty Years War and also participated in various other military ventures prior to the outbreak of the English Civil War.

An depiction of Robert Dereveux on horseback. Engraving by Wenceslas Hollar.

4. Charles’ Royalist army was outnumbered at Edgehill

Charles had around 13,000 troops compared to Essex’s 15,000. Nevertheless he positioned his army in a strong position on Edge Hill and was confident of victory.

5. The Royalist cavalry was Charles’ secret weapon…

Commanded by Prince Rupert of the Rhine, these horsemen were well-trained and considered the best in England.

King Charles I stands centre wearing the blue sash of the Order of the Garter; Prince Rupert of the Rhine is sat next to him and Lord Lindsey stands next to the king resting his commander’s baton against the map. Credit: Walker Art Gallery / Domain.

6. …and Charles was sure to use them

Not long after the battle began on 23 October 1642, the Royalist cavalry charged their opposite numbers on both flanks. The Parliamentarian horse proved no match and were soon routed.

7. Almost all of the Royalist cavalry pursued the retreating horsemen

This included Prince Rupert, who led an attack on the Parliamentarian baggage train, believing victory was all-but-assured. Yet by leaving the battlefield, Rupert and his men left Charles’ infantry very exposed.

8. Devoid of cavalry support, the Royalist infantry suffered

A small portion of Parliamentarian cavalry, commanded by Sir William Balfour, had remained on the field and proved devastatingly effective: emerging through the ranks of the Parliamentarian infantry they made several lightning strikes on Charles’ approaching infantry, inflicting severe casualties.

During the battle, the Royalist standard was captured by the Parliamentarians – a huge blow. It was, however, later recaptured by returning Cavalier cavalry.

The fight for the standard at Edgehill. Credit: William Maury Morris II / Domain.

9. The Parliamentarians forced the Royalists back

After a hard day’s fighting, the Royalists returned to their original position on Edge Hill where they regrouped with the cavalry that had finished looting their foe’s baggage train.

It proved the end of the fighting as neither side decided to resume hostilities the next day and the battle resulted in an indecisive draw.

10. If Prince Rupert and his cavalry had remained on the battlefield, Edgehill’s result could have been very different

It is likely that with cavalry support, Charles’ Royalists would have been able to rout the Parliamentarians that had remained on the battlefield, giving the king a decisive victory that could well have ended the Civil War – one of those fascinating ‘what if’ moments of history.