Anne Boleyn, As a Mother

The birth of Princess Elizabeth Tudor was a crushing disappointment to her mother and a deep, personal embarrassment for her father. Henry had been certain the child Anne Boleyn carried in 1533 would be his heir. A son would be proof of God's favor on Henry's marriage to Anne Boleyn after rejecting his "sinful" union with Katharine of Aragon, which never produced a living boy.

The doctors, astrologers, and soothsayers had all predicted a boy. Only one had been brave enough to say it was a girl Anne carried, and that prediction was not well-received. The birth announcements for a prince had all been drawn up, and celebratory jousts were planned.

When Anne's baby proved to be a girl, it was a shock. Chapuys gleefully reported on Henry's embarrassment, and it was probably true that people may have laughed at the king and his "concubine" who had confidently strutted and flaunted God's favor on their union. The jousts were cancelled and a tiny "s" was scribbled in next to the word "prince" in the birth announcements. Jousts weren't held for the birth of a female; Henry had done the same when Princess Mary was born.

But Henry and Anne did not publicly display any feelings of disappointment. They named the child Elizabeth, the name of both Henry's mother and Anne's. Proclamations went out around England announcing the birth of Henry's first legitimate child, and churches around the nation sang Te Deum in celebration and thanks to God.

There was a grand christening ceremony for
the princess on September 10, with the highest nobles in the land present. The christening gown that Anne made and embroidered for Elizabeth supposedly still survives, having been given to Kateryn Parr and passed down through her family. (Its authenticity is in question.) But Anne is known to have sewn and embroidered many items for her baby.

Babies of that era were swaddled tightly. Elizabeth's cradle would have been gilded, carved and painted. There's an order in Anne Boleyn's expense records for red damask to make Elizabeth's bed covers, and crimson fringe for the head of her cradle.

Anne Boleyn, by all accounts, was a very loving mother. An old story claims that Anne wished to breastfeed Elizabeth personally, but Henry wouldn't allow it. The story demonstrates that Anne's love for her daughter might have been widely known, but it has no basis in fact. Highborn women did not breastfeed their own children - especially queens - and Anne followed royal protocol to the letter. Noble mothers showed their love and concern by choosing the best possible wetnurse for the task, someone who had a proven track-record of healthy babies. Secondly, Anne wanted to get pregnant again as quickly as possible, and breastfeeding was known to reduce fertility.

Other stories tell us of Anne's love for Elizabeth. It's said she kept the baby with her during the first few months of Elizabeth's life, lying on a cushion next to her instead of shut away in the nursery.

Elizabeth was sent away to her own household at Hatfield on December 10, 1533. We can only wonder how Anne felt about this, but she did her duty. Nobles of the era did not raise their own children. Anne had done what she could in choosing the best people to take care of her baby. Many of them were her relatives by blood or marriage.

Along with them went Henry's other daughter, Mary, forcing her to serve the infant sister who had supplanted her in rank. Anne must have been anxious about that, but Mary loved her baby sister and took wonderful care of her, despite her misery in her living conditions.

Princes and Princesses of the era had their own palaces and armies of servants. From birth, they had the same household as an adult prince or princess, even though some of the servant's services would not be utilized for decades. A place at the table was set for the princess, though she would not sit there for years, and meals suitable to her royal dignity were served, though they ended up being consumed by the upper servants in her stead.

Anne's expense records are full of purchases for her daughter. She wrote to Lady Bryan, Elizabeth's nurse, frequently. None of the letters survive, but we know Anne kept in close contact with those charged with her daughter's care. Henry ordered Elizabeth weaned when she was two years and one month old, and noted in his order that Anne was enclosing a letter, likely with further instructions and advice.

She also visited Elizabeth when she could steal some time away from her duties, and the princess was brought to court for holidays and special occasions. When Katharine of Aragon died in January, 1536, Elizabeth made her last appearance at her mother's court, as Henry paraded her around and showed her off to his courtiers.

Only a few days before her arrest, Anne went to her chaplain, Matthew Parker, and extracted from him a promise to look after her daughter if anything happened to her. Parker took that promise seriously and spent the rest of his life trying to fulfill it. The power of Anne's love survived her death, and she was able to protect her daughter beyond the grave.

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Babies in the Tudor Era

The painting to the right is a very interesting artifact of the Tudor era. According to the Latin inscription in the upper right corner, it's a portrait of Cornelia Burch, age two months. It was painted in 1581 by an unknown artist.

We don't know who Cornelia was. It's been theorized that she was the daughter of Thomas, Lord Burgh, who was the English ambassador to Scotland, but there's no proof of it.

The painting is interesting for several reasons. Relatively few Tudor era infant portraits survive. Only about half of Tudor children survived to adulthood; a quarter of children did not reach their first birthday. And so commissioning an artist to paint an infant, especially an oil portrait such exceptional quality, was rare. Did little Cornelia survive to adulthood? There's no way for us to know.

Cornelia's family was obviously wealthy. The little cap on her head is frilled with fine, goffered linen. She holds in her hand a gold rattle with a polished tooth at the end. Her cradle is elaborately carved and she rests against a fine pillow. Her sleeves are of velvet, piped with gold. Her swaddling bands are silk, bound with gold cord.

But here's another interesting aspect: Cornelia is only half-swaddled. Her arms are free. Whether this was done simply for the portrait or whether it was her parents' choice to leave her arms unswaddled is unknown.

Parents swaddled their infants as their incomes would allow, but wealthy infants usually would have each limb individually wrapped in linen or silk, passing over the top of the head to keep it immobile, and then wider bands of cloth wrapped horizontally around their body. The child was unwrapped a few times a day to change their diaper, but otherwise handled as little as possible. It was thought too much attention would spoil them.

The portrait to the left is of the newborn Federigo di Urbino by Fiori Barocci, 1605. The baby's silk swaddling bands are embroidered with cloth of gold, and they wrap him from toe to shoulder like a little mummy. His head rests on a pillow decorated with pearls.



The two children to the right date to 1671, and are of a bit more modest means. They are bound up from head to toe in their swaddling bands, dressed over that in chemises with lace-edged collars, and then wrapped in white linen cloth, tucked neatly around their forms. Research into the family history of the infants suggests that they were twins, and unfortunately did not survive their first year.

The last portrait of swaddled infants I want to share with you is a very unusual image called The Cholmondeley Ladies, 1600-1610.

The image shows two ladies reclining in a bed, fully dressed in embroidered stomachers, sleeves with rosettes and pearls, elaborate ruffs, and jeweled necklaces. Both ladies hold a swaddled baby wrapped in a red christening gown. An inscription in gold lettering in the bottom left says the two women were sisters, born on the same day, married on the same day, and gave birth on the same day. An event worthy of being immortalized in oil paint, that's for sure!

Babies from wealthy families were usually given over to wet nurses to feed soon after the christening. Sexual relations were forbidden while a woman was nursing, and nursing naturally reduces a woman's fertility. Women of the day wanted to become pregnant again as soon as possible. There's an apocryphal story that Anne Boleyn wanted to breastfeed Elizabeth I, but her request was denied by Henry VIII. It's unlikely she would have asked.

The character of the wet nurse was very important, because negative character traits were thought to be transmitted in the milk. Nurses whose own children had been boys were favored. The milk of a woman who'd had a boy was thought to be more wholesome. She was to be given a rich diet foods, though with little spices, and red wine - thought to be strengthening. Sometimes, a wardrobe or other material goods were supplied to her. Elizabeth I's astrologer, John Dee, sent candles and soap to his child's wet nurse.

The image to the right is of Gabrielle d'Estrées, mistress of King Henry IV of France. A nurse is behind her, feeding Gabrielle's swaddled infant son César, born in 1594.

Children were generally nursed until the age of two, though I've seen mentions of children being nursed as late as five years old in the Tudor era.

They wore the long robes (christening gown length) until they were able to walk, when the child was officially "short coated." Both boys and girls wore gowns similar to adult women's clothing, and so it can sometimes be difficult to determine a child's gender in a portrait.

As soon as the child was old enough to walk and talk, they were old enough to begin the next stage of life, their education.

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