Tudor Facts: Lice, Guns, Toilets, and More

Tudor facts can be weird, surprising, and strangely relatable—from lice and chamber pots to sugar obsessions and early firearms. Thanks to Google’s autocomplete, we’re diving into the most-searched questions about daily life in Tudor England. Did the Tudors have guns? Did they have pets or glass windows? These oddly specific queries reveal the gritty, fascinating, and sometimes hilarious realities of the 16th century. From royal hygiene habits to explosive courtly celebrations, these Tudor facts give us a vivid glimpse into how people really lived—and how surprisingly similar (or wildly different) their world was to ours.

Transcript of Did the Tudors Have Lice, Guns, and Toilets? (You Know You Want to Know)

Today we are answering your questions—or at least the questions that the internet thinks you’re asking. So picture it: I’m minding my own business, I was on Google, and I started to type, “Did the Tudors have…”—and then I saw the auto-suggestions. I thought, well, there’s an episode!

So today, we are diving into all of the most Googled Tudor curiosities. Did the Tudors have lice? Did they have sugar, guns, toilets, fireworks, pets? Some of these questions are perfectly valid. Others are delightfully weird. But all of them tell us something fascinating about daily life in Tudor England.

This is a history grab bag full of itchy heads, stinky chamber pots, greyhounds and ruffs, and the occasional musket. So go get yourself a cup of coffee—or if you’re feeling festive, a goblet of watered-down sack—and let’s get right into it.

Did the Tudors have lice?

Oh yes. Yes, they did. And not just lice—fleas, bedbugs, mites, and other unwelcome roommates. If you had skin and hair and you lived in the 16th century, you were almost certainly hosting a few passengers.

Hair lice were especially common. Most people, including the nobility, washed infrequently by modern standards. Instead of regular hair washing, they would comb their hair with fine-toothed combs, sprinkle their scalps with powders or scented herbs, and pretend like they were clean.

Queen Elizabeth reportedly wore wigs in her later years. It’s very possible that underneath those fabulous red curls, her scalp was far from pristine. In fact, there’s a famous story about the coronation of Henry IV. For some reason, the holy oil they put on his head during the crowning caused really bad lice—and he couldn’t shake them for a really long time. He was walking around scratching his head because of the lice he got from that oil. I don’t know if it attracted them or gave them a really good place to breed or what, but Henry IV got lice from his crowning.

Clothing was another culprit. Linen underclothes could be washed—and in fact, in Ruth Goodman’s book How to Be a Tudor, she talks a lot about how people regularly washed their undergarments. But the outer garments—especially for the wealthy, who had really expensive silks and things—weren’t cleaned that often, and they were teeming with critters. And bedding? Let’s just say that people learned not to scratch too obviously in public.

But of course, there were efforts to stay clean. I don’t want people thinking they were just, you know, going around as these filthy people. People wanted to stay clean—and Henry was oddly obsessed with personal hygiene. He had baths built into his palaces, and he changed his undershirts multiple times a day. But even he couldn’t escape the lice. One of his royal barbers was even tasked with checking for nits. So yes, the Tudors had lice—and you would have too.

Did the Tudors have guns?

Oh, they did—though they weren’t quite the pistols and rifles we might imagine today. Tudor-era guns were loud, smoky, slow, and kind of terrifying. But they were real and becoming much more common.

By the time Henry VIII came to the throne, England was already dabbling in early firearms. The classic weapon of the late medieval period, the longbow, was still around. People were still required to go to archery practice, for example, on Sundays after church.

But matchlock muskets and small cannon were starting to show up on battlefields and in royal arsenals. At the Battle of Flodden in 1513, English forces used primitive handguns and field artillery to defeat the Scottish army—a rare example where Tudor tech made a real difference.

Guns were not reliable, though. They misfired often, took forever to reload, and were so heavy they sometimes required a stand. Still, the novelty was enough to impress—and terrify—both allies and enemies.

Henry VIII never wanted to miss a dramatic flourish. He loved a good explosion. He had cannons cast with royal emblems, built gunpowder stores in the Tower of London, and made sure that England’s navy was outfitted with gunports and artillery—a huge innovation at the time.

So yes, the Tudors had guns. Not good ones, mind you, but enough to make noise, smoke, and the occasional political statement.

Did the Tudors have a claim to the throne?

Now, this is a fun one—because technically yes, but also sort of no. When Henry Tudor became Henry VII after defeating Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth in 1485, he wasn’t exactly dripping in royal blood. His claim came through his mother, Margaret Beaufort—a formidable woman whose lineage traced back to John of Gaunt, son of Edward III, via a line that was, shall we say… legally iffy.

Margaret’s ancestors were born out of wedlock when Katherine Swynford was still the mistress to John of Gaunt. Later on, they were legitimized by their half-siblings through royal decree—but another decree later excluded them from inheriting the throne.

So yes, this line was considered legitimate because John of Gaunt eventually did marry Katherine Swynford after his second wife died. Even though the children were born out of wedlock, they became legitimate. But—they still couldn’t inherit the throne.

Yes, Henry had royal blood, but it came with a really big asterisk. That’s why his victory in battle was so important. He didn’t inherit the crown—he took it. And then, to bolster his position, he married Elizabeth of York, the daughter of Edward IV and the niece of Richard III. That union brought together the feuding houses of Lancaster and York, and gave him a legitimate claim by marriage.

But even then, people weren’t entirely convinced. Henry spent much of his reign defending his throne against pretenders like Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck—both of whom claimed to be lost Yorkist princes. And honestly, enough people believed them that it became a real problem. So yes, the Tudors had a claim to the throne, but it was less divine right and more “might makes right,” polished with a clever marriage and a lot of propaganda.

Did the Tudors have clocks?

Yes—and if you were rich, you might even own one. I really like this subject. A couple of years ago—maybe five or six years ago—I did an episode on Tudor clocks, and I got very philosophical about what technology does to our brain.

Because of course, before there were clocks, the idea of being “on time”—or, you know, if you said you were going to meet somebody at the pub at 10:00 AM and showed up at 10:20—you weren’t really late, because they didn’t… you know… it was all just very loosey-goosey.

And then clocks came around, and we could start to measure time with such precision. And how did that change the way we think about time? And the way we think about deadlines? And how does technology actually change our brain? And then—today—how does the technology we have now change our brain? I’m sure it’s actively changing our brain. I got very, very philosophical about that, so I’ll link to that episode in the show notes.

Anyway, mechanical clocks were already around by the start of the Tudor period, but they were mostly these massive things stuck in church towers or civic buildings. Think big gears, clanging bells, and not exactly precise timekeeping. These early clocks were more about status and spectacle than actual punctuality.

But during the Tudor period—especially in the later reign of Henry VIII and into Elizabeth’s time—clocks got a bit smaller and a lot more fashionable. Wealthy nobles started acquiring elaborate timepieces, sometimes built into furniture, sometimes worn as jewelry. Yes—worn. There are examples of clock watches shaped like pomanders or even little skulls. Because, you know… sometimes Tudor people got goth about time. Who knows?

Elizabeth herself was known to give clocks as diplomatic gifts, showing off both her wealth and her connection to cutting-edge Renaissance science. And the gardens at Nonsuch Palace had a water clock that may have even played music. That’s fun.

That said, most regular people still measured their days by bells, sun positions, and church services. The idea that everyone was on the same precise schedule wouldn’t come around until much later. But the Tudors were certainly clock-curious—and for the rich, having one was like having the latest iPhone: completely unnecessary, wildly expensive, and absolutely something you would show off.

Did the Tudors have sugar?

I actually did a whole episode on this as well. They did have sugar—and they loved it. Unless you were wealthy enough to sleep under a tapestry depicting your own coat of arms, sugar was not exactly part of your daily porridge. In Tudor England, sugar was a luxury import brought in through Venice or Portugal, from places like Madeira and later the Caribbean.

It was expensive, it was rare, and it was usually purchased in really big, solid cones called sugar loaves, which had to be grated or chipped off in chunks.

The wealthy would use it liberally—not just as a sweetener but as a statement. They made marzipan sculptures. They candied everything from violets to fennel seeds. And they even served entire banquets of sugar subtleties: elaborate molded table decorations that looked like castles, animals, or even religious scenes.

Elizabeth was obsessed with sugar. She had sweetmeats stashed in her private chambers, favored candied treats at court—and it showed. By the end of her life, she had blackened teeth and chronic dental problems, which, you know, were sometimes considered fashionable because it meant you could afford sweets.

But it wasn’t just vanity. Sugar also made its way into Tudor medicine. It was used to coat pills, mix into tonics, or disguise foul-tasting herbal remedies. It was the Tudor version of “a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.” So yes, the Tudors had sugar. But it was less pass the cupcakes and more behold, my extravagant tooth-rotting wealth.

Did the Tudors have toilets?

Define toilet. If you’re picturing porcelain plumbing or anything that flushes, then no—the Tudors didn’t have toilets in the modern sense. They did have chamber pots, garderobes, and something called the close stool, which sounds dignified but was really just a fancy chair with a hole and a bucket.

In castles and large houses, the garderobe was often a small closet-like room built out over the outer walls, where waste could drop down a chute into the moat or a cesspit. And so—yes, technically some people were pooping directly into the moat.

The close stool was a favorite of the nobility. It was usually kept in or near the bedchamber and was often attended by a servant—the most infamous being the Groom of the Stool, whose job was exactly what it sounds like.

The role actually came with a surprising amount of power and access to the monarch. Because let’s face it—if someone helps you do that, you probably trust them with state secrets too.

For everyone else, there were communal privies or simple pits. In towns like London, the streets and rivers bore the brunt of the waste, and sanitation was not good. It was bad—like, really bad. It was common to empty chamber pots into the street with a shouted warning—“Gardy loo!”—to anyone below. Because nothing says “Welcome to the neighborhood” like airborne waste.

In fact—and someone can fact-check me on this; I’ve looked it up—Google says it’s true, but I haven’t found the original source. So if you know it, let me know in the comments. But what I once read (and again, grain of salt) was that the chivalrous idea of men walking on the outside of a woman on the street may have originated because they were shielding her… from getting hit by flying toilet waste.

You know, if you’re walking down the street—traditionally, chivalry has the man walking on the outside, street-side of the sidewalk. That was because, with the way buildings were overhung, if someone was emptying out their chamber pot, that side was most likely to get hit with whatever was coming from above. So, there’s that.

Also, fun fact: London Bridge had public toilets. The city of York did too. Lots of cities had public toilets scattered around—although, of course, they were mostly for men, so women had a trickier time. So no, no modern toilets—but plenty of creative ways to answer the call of nature, some more dignified than others.

Did the Tudors have pets?

They absolutely did—and not just working animals like hunting dogs or mousers. The Tudors genuinely doted on their pets just like we do, especially in royal and noble households, where animals were often pampered companions.

One of the most famous Tudor pets was Pourquoi or Purkoy, Anne Boleyn’s little dog—probably a lapdog or toy spaniel. His name likely comes from the French “pourquoi?” meaning why?, which might reflect his inquisitive expression or tendency to tilt his head.

Mary, Queen of Scots, also had a beloved Skye terrier, who famously hid under her skirts during her execution and refused to leave her body. That grisly image has haunted animal lovers for centuries.

And then there were the more exotic creatures. Parrots were popular for their ability to mimic speech, and monkeys—sometimes dressed in tiny little jackets—made occasional appearances at court. There’s a very famous portrait of Katherine of Aragon where she has a little monkey on her shoulder.

Commoners kept pets too, though theirs were usually more functional: cats for catching mice, dogs for herding or guarding, and small songbirds in cages. I did a whole episode on the menagerie at the Tower of London as well, so if you want to dig into how the Tudors saw animals—it’s not always pretty—but they did have their pets, too. I’ll link that episode in the show notes. So yes, the Tudors had pets. And while some served practical purposes, others were loved simply for the joy of their company—just like today.

I love my pets. I have a dog—a black lab who is a shelter dog—and I just love her to bits. And I have a cat who actually came home with us from Spain. She has a Spanish passport—I think that’s kind of fun. We found her along the street—literally in the middle of the road. Cars were running over her, and she was just a teeny, tiny kitten. We had to feed her milk and care for her for a while.

Then she came home with us when we moved back, and so yes—she has a little Spanish passport. I like to joke that she gets along with other cats when she meets them, but there’s a language barrier because she only speaks Spanish.

We also have a rabbit—a little rabbit called Ellie, who is two years old. My daughter really wanted her… and now I am the one who takes care of her because that’s hashtag mom life, right?

Did the Tudors have fireworks?

Surprisingly, yes—though it wasn’t quite the Fourth of July over Hampton Court. The Tudors were very into spectacle, and by Elizabeth’s reign, fireworks had become a real crowd-pleaser.

Gunpowder was already known in England by the late medieval period, like we talked about. But during the Renaissance, firework displays began popping up at courtly celebrations. Imported knowledge from Italy and the Low Countries brought the skills needed to create controlled and colorful displays—or, you know, at least vaguely controlled. Let’s just say that early fireworks came with a very real risk of accidental singeing.

Elizabeth I especially loved the drama of it all. There are reports of firework shows during the Accession Day celebrations—giant public festivals honoring the queen’s rise to power. The titles, the tilts, and pageantry would be capped with firework bursts lighting up the night sky in an age when artificial light was still a marvel in and of itself.

These early fireworks were more noise and smoke than sparkle and color, but they did make an impression. For people used to candlelight and bonfires, gunpowder rockets were pure magic. So yes, the Tudors did have fireworks. Maybe not skywriting or Catherine wheels—but enough to go “oooh!” and “ahhh!” …and duck.

Did the Tudors have glass windows?

Yes—though whether you looked through them depended entirely on your bank balance. Glass was available in Tudor England, but it was very expensive, very fragile, and often reused. In grand homes and royal palaces, windows were a symbol of wealth, status, and modernity.

The glass itself was usually blown into small panes and held together with lead strips. It wasn’t perfectly clear—it was more wavy and bubbled—but it kept out the wind and let in some light, and that was enough of a win.

In lesser homes, windows were covered with wooden shutters, horn, oiled cloth, or lattice.

You could open them for fresh air—and for flies, smells, and whatever else was blowing through the village that day.

One of the best examples of Tudor glass pride is Hardwick Hall, built in the 1590s by Bess of Hardwick. The enormous windows led to the very accurate brag: “Hardwick Hall, more glass than wall.” It was an architectural flex. So yes, the Tudors had glass windows, but only the very, very wealthy could afford to see the world through them.

Final one: Did the Tudors have red hair?

They absolutely did. The two most iconic Tudor monarchs—Henry VIII and his daughter Elizabeth I—both had striking red hair. It wasn’t just a genetic fluke; Henry likely inherited the trait from his mother, Elizabeth of York, who carried the gene from the Plantagenet line, where red hair seems to have popped up more than once.

This wasn’t just a family trait—it became a brand. Elizabeth leaned into her fiery locks even as they thinned with age. She wore elaborate wigs in shades of copper and gold, carefully curled and styled, turning red hair into a royal signature. It helped her stand out, especially in portraits, where her hair symbolized power, uniqueness, and even a kind of divine brilliance.

Red hair was rare, striking, and unmistakably Tudor.There were certainly other redheads at court—it wasn’t limited to the royals—but thanks to some very public heads of hair, the Tudors definitely kept the flame alive.

So did the Tudors have lice, guns, sugar, toilets, pets, fireworks, windows, red hair, and a claim to the throne? They sure did—more or less. But the real takeaway here isn’t just the answers. It’s the picture that emerges when you ask these oddball questions. Because every “Did they have…?” tells us something about how the Tudors lived—what they valued, what grossed them out, and what made them marvel.

And it also shows how close they were to us in some ways—obsessed with their pets, sugar, and gadgets—and how alien they were in others. I mean… moat toilets. Enough said.