It is no secret to long-time followers that I have a soft spot for Margaret Beaufort. When you study the great lady for as long as I have, you can’t help but admire her resilience, the scale of her ambition, and her generosity. She was a redoubtable woman who blazed a hugely respectable path through a violent man’s world, bequeathing an inestimable legacy of culture and education that few have matched.
I deeply lament the spiteful recent phenomenon, driven by injurious historical fiction and adopted by those whose hero-worship of he-who-shall-not-be-named knows no bounds, that paints Margaret as a religious, even murderous, fanatic with a crippling lifelong ambition to see her son king. It is infuriating to see her condemned where a man would be praised.
It’s bollocks, to be frank, and has no place in serious study. One doesn’t unmalign an historical figure by seeking to denigrate and destroy the reputation of another. I am inclined to believe the words of those who knew Margaret personally, devoted men like Bishop John Fisher, later sainted for losing his head on an act of principle. In his eulogy, Fisher spoke positively of Margaret, noting:
‘Of marvellous gentleness she was unto all folks, but specially unto her own whom she trusted and loved right tenderly…all England for her death had cause of weeping’.
For more on Margaret Beaufort, check out my book ‘The House of Beaufort’, Nicola Tallis’s estimable study ‘Uncrowned Queen’, Elizabeth Norton’s worthy ‘Margaret Beaufort’ or Michael K Jones and Michael Underwood’s groundbreaking academic tome ‘The King’s Mother’.
So, with that introductory and unplanned rant concluded, it is with great joy I have noticed a few recent discoveries that have placed this great woman back into the historical news.
Pembroke Castle – Henry VII’s Birthplace Discovered?
In late-2023, it came to wider notice that Dyfed Archaeological Trust believed their multi-year investigation into Pembroke Castle had possibly revealed the birthplace of Henry VII. As Henry’s mother, this story very obviously involves Margaret Beaufort herself, who was only thirteen years old, and widowed, when she gave birth to Henry on 28 January 1457.
Tradition dictates that Henry was born in a medieval tower situated in the Outer Ward, looming high over the modern road below. This seems unlikely for various reasons, but nonetheless the tower is today known as the Henry VII Tower and hosts a quaint waxwork depicting the nativity scene as it may have appeared back in 1457.
Through their archaeological investigations over the last few years, the DAT have uncovered the remnants of a high status, two storeyed, winged hall-house, which has been dated to the 15th century. It is a fair bet that this was constructed by, or on behalf of, the lord of Pembroke Jasper Tudor. It is far more likely that Jasper nephew Henry was born within such a dwelling, rather than a cold outpost away from the castle’s inner sanctum.
You can download the final evaluation as things stood in 2018 HERE
Margaret’s Lost Palace of Collyweston
Incredibly exciting was the revelation towards the end of 2023 that Margaret Beaufort’s one-time home, Collyweston Palace in Northamptonshire, had been rediscovered.
Granted to her by her son Henry VII shortly after he became king in 1485, Collyweston would become Margaret’s preferred home later in life. It was here in the English Midlands that Margaret held court in great splendour. She oversaw much of the royal administration in the region on behalf of her son, and would occasionally host Henry when he passed through on one of his extensive progresses.
In 1503, Margaret also welcomed her young granddaughter Princess Margaret to Collyweston, on her way to Scotland to assume life as James IV’s queen consort. For two weeks, a series of wedding celebrations and feasting took place within Margaret’s walls, which also poignantly marked the final time the younger Margaret, just fourteen years old, would see her father and grandmother.
As Nicola Tallis reveals in her fine book on Margaret, the King’s Mother transformed a humble manor into a splendid Tudor palace during these years. The windows bore Beaufort emblems like the portcullis, and she oversaw the construction of two clock-houses. Inside the palace contained a library for her growing book collection, a chapel for her spiritual needs, royal apartments for the lady of the house and visiting dignitaries, a great hall, and a jewel house.
The gardens provided a pleasant refuge in summer and spring, boasting fine orchards, fishponds, and an extensive deer park. Throughout the household were her servants, numbering as many as four hundred people, all clad in the blue and white Beaufort livery. This was, in every way, a royal court presided over by its uncrowned queen.
After her death, Collyweston reverted into the hands of the Crown, and was visited by Henry VIII in 1541 on his way to York. The final royal to stay at Collyweston seems to be Elizabeth I in 1566, but sadly, all trace of the palace was lost after its dismantling in 1640. Most visitors passing through this most picturesque of villages remain unaware of its one-time existence.
In 2018, the Collyweston Historical and Preservation Society (CHAPS) was created by villagers to try and find the location of Margaret’s palace. They began with just £1,000 and traditional hearsay in the village. As CHAPS lead Chris Close humbly noted in press coverage
“…we’re a bunch of amateurs. We had no money, no expertise, no plans, no artist impressions to go off, and nothing remaining of the palace.
But five years later, with the assistance of the University of York in the latter stages to identify finds, Chris and CHAPS have been successful in their remarkable quest. Using ground-penetrating radar to locate the palace, some foundations and walls have now been unearthed.
An exhibition of the finds so far are currently on display in the village’s chapel, and further investigations are hoped if funding can be obtained. You can read about the findings so far on the CHAPS website.
Royal Paintings in Cambridge
The final, and most recent, discovery that excites Beaufort nerds like myself are the royal wall paintings that have been revealed for the first time in over three hundred years at Christ’s College in Cambridge.
Restorative builders working in a roof space in the First Court were responsible for locating the concealed artwork, which comprise three crowned motifs – one is a red Lancastrian rose, one a portcullis, and another a fleur-de-lis. Painted onto a fine plaster layer that is now partially obscured by a wooden beam, the room formed part of the original library.
When one considers that Christ’s College was re-founded in 1505 by Margaret Beaufort, a descendant of the House of Lancaster and whose dynastic badge was the portcullis, it is fair to connect these motifs with the great woman herself. The college has always proudly celebrated its foundress, with a large statue of the great lady visible atop the college’s Great Gate.
The fair assumption, pending further investigation, is that the artwork dates to the early sixteenth century, reminding all visitors to this particular room just who its royal benefactor was. In employing such visual propaganda to project an image of dynastic greatness, Margaret followed the example her son Henry VII set, a master a promoting his kingship at every opportunity.
One imagines an Elizabethan scholar briefly looking up from their text, casting their eye over the badges of his college’s foundress, the great Lady Margaret Beaufort. According to the College archives, the last recorded sighting of the wall paintings was around 1738.
Now, after three hundred years covered up, these incredible reminders of Margaret Beaufort are once more visible to visitors. You can read more here
Amazing! Thank you for sharing! There always seems to be delicious history hiding behind your walls in England.
I was so excited by the Cambridge find! Having spent the 4 years of my undergrad there, it was never lost on me how unbelievably cool it was that the medieval university buildings seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of secrets to give up!