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Archive for the month “March, 2018”

Timelines of our monarchs….

Richard's timeline

Timelines for our kings and queens are always interesting, especially if they are, or seem to be, quite accurate. Richard’s is, and he isn’t accused of doing away with his nephews. The bald facts and the dates are presented. Above you will see a snip of the beginning of his section. I imagine all the other timelines can be trusted as well. But don’t take my word as gospel, for I have been known to be wrong. I know, hard to believe, but….

Anyway, the site is quite comprehensive, and well linked. Recommended.

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Now it’s 3-0

A few months ago, we wrote to say that there were two JD Wetherspoons named after Richard III – the Lord High Constable in Gloucester and the Last Plantagenet in Leicester – but none after Henry VII. Now, having been reminded that Richard created the Court of Requests, there is one by that name in Oldbury, Sandwell.

They really do seem to know their history …

BLOOD OF ROSES (A Novella of Edward IV’s Victory at Towton)

Richard, Duke of York and his second son Edmund were killed at the battle of Wakefield at the bitter end of  1460. Within weeks, the Duke’s eldest son Edward was on the road with a mighty army, seeking revenge–and a crown.

The novella BLOOD OF  ROSES by J.P. Reedman covers the period  from the Duke’s death to Edward’s Coronation on June 28 1461. Edward’s early battles are curiously sidelined  in most fiction, despite their importance, while his amorous pursuits often seem to take the fore! This ‘slice of life’ fiction book tries to redress that balance slightly.

In February 1461 Edward fought the first of his battles for the throne at Mortimer’s Cross, where the parhelion, the Three Suns, appeared  in the sky. Edward sensed the fear and doubt growing in his men at the sight of this phenomena, and, aged only 18, showed great cleverness in convincing them it was a GOOD omen–the sign of the Holy Trinity. The battle went decively for the Yorkists, with Jasper Tudor’s father Owen being executed in Hereford’s town square. Legend says a deranged lady took his head and sat on the market cross crooning to it as she brushed its hair…

With Edward were the Croft family of Croft Castle, which is on the Welsh borders. This is the family made famous by the letter sent from Ludlow to the Duke of York by his young sons, Edward and Edmund, asking for bonnets and other items. At first reading, one section of the letter seems to  be against bullying behaviour by the Croft sons, who were also at Ludlow, but is in fact, on second reading,  against the ‘odious and demeaning’ treatment of them, a fact recently noted by Dr John Ashdown-Hill. Richard Croft went on to serve Edward IV (so clearly no  friction there!), then Richard III and Henry Tudor.

Mortimer’s Cross was a great victory but there was then a distinct setback when the Earl of Warwick was defeated by the Lancastrians at St Albans, and King Henry, until then a Yorkist prisoner, taken  to rejoin his wife, Margaret of Anjou. Nonetheless, Edward entered London and was proclaimed king, although he sworehe would not wear the crown until he had defeated his enemies utterly. Gathering his army, he began a hard march north.

At Ferrybridge, the Lancastrians attacked the Yorkists over the damaged bridge crossing the Aire, in a night-raid led by Lord Clifford, the presumed murderer of Edmund of Rutland, who had appeared suddenly with his ‘chosen’ men, the Flower of Craven. At first the Yorkists were thrown into disarray, with Lord Fitzwalter being hewn down the moment he stepped from his tent to see what the commotion outside was about. Luckily, William Neville, Lord Fauconberg, the most experienced commander of the Yorkist host, took the lead and crossed near Castleford to attack the Lancastrian flank. Fauconberg was a small-framed man, often described as ‘little Fauconberg’ who had a long military career, having served in France, including at the famous Siege of Orleans. He was an uncle of Edward, being the third son of Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmorland and his wife Joan Beaufort (Edward’s maternal grandparents.) Fauconberg  made short work of Clifford’s Flower of Craven, and Clifford himself was killed, mostly like by an arrow when removing his gorget.

Then the Yorkist army pushed on to Towton, fought on Palm Sunday and in a fierce snowstorm. Some have questioned the possibility of a  snowstorm that late in the year, but looking at our recent March weather, it is not impossible at all that there was indeed heavy snow! The bad weather was advantageous to the Yorkists, with the worst of the weather being at their backs and driving into the faces of their enemies. The Lancastrian archers were at a distinct disadvantage with the strong wind blowing their arrows astray.

The battle was hard fought, nevertheless, as the Lancastrian forces far outnumbered those of the Yorkists. However, when the Duke of Norfolk’s contingent arrived, led by John Howard, the battle finally turned in Edward’s favour. A rout ensued and the battlefield became a killing field. The waters of nearby Cock Beck ran red with blood and filled with bodies. The area was afterwards called Bloody Meadow.

It was the bloodiest battle ever fought on English’s soil, with figures as high as 28,000 stated for the casualties. Even given the exaggeration of the chroniclers of the day, it was undoubtedly a huge amount of slain. In recent years some of the remains of the fallen have been recovered, mostly around Towton Hall, where archaeologists recently found the remains of Richard III’s chapel to the fallen soldiers subsumed into the inner fabric of the hall. The skeletons recovered showed the terrifying brutality of medieval warfare–shattered skulls, slashing injuries, facial mutilation, slicing marks that may have been the removal of ears…

Chivalry died a death upon this field of blood. But England had a new king–Edward of York, the Sunne in Splendour.

BLOOD OF ROSES IS AVAILABLE IN KINDLE AND PRINT FROM AMAZON

BLOOD OF ROSES

 

Lucy Worsley’s Fireworks for a Tudor Queen ….

Lucy as Elizabeth I

Lucy Worsley can always been relied upon t)o be entertaining, and her latest documentary – BBC – Lucy Worsley’s Fireworks for a Tudor Queen (2018 – is well up to standard.

BBC – Lucy Worsley's Fireworks for a Tudor Queen - 2018

As the title suggests, she was going to reproduce the sort of amazing fireworks display that might have been created for Elizabeth I. In this particular case, a specific display produced at Kenilworth in 1575 by Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester,  as his last-ditch attempt to win the queen’s hand in marriage.

Elizabethan fireworks

Lucy was in no doubt that the queen was sorely tempted, but in the end Robert received the thumbs-down. The display had cost him a huge fortune, and availed him of nothing. Well, such high stakes might have seemed like a good idea at the time, I suppose, but afterward. . .? Perhaps not.

I knew nothing about early fireworks (or modern ones, come to that) but viewers were guided through an enthralling demonstration of how gerbs, girandolas (which look  like wildly sparkling willow trees when spinning), rockets, a flying, illuminated dragon, and so on were produced. It was a hazardous process, with one spark being capable of combusting the whole darned lot!

The display was painstakingly recreated from a 16th century drawing, and looked quite uninspiring before it was lit. After all, we are accustomed to modern fireworks, which have quite spoiled us for the delights and novelties of their earlier counterparts. But the moment it was “set off”, the Tudor display was quite a sight to see, and the real Elizabeth must have been as enthralled as Lucy’s version.

Lucy's dragon

The illuminated dragon was splendid, floating across the scene as regally as the queen herself. Well, almost. Its landing wasn’t quite to royal standards.

Anyway, I loved the programme, and thoroughly recommend it to everyone.

modern fireworks

modern fireworks

 

Oops, the NY Times claimed Richard wasn’t found in Leicester, but in London….!

ny times - genetics review

Even the New York Times gets it wrong! Apparently an earlier version of a book review had Richard being found in London, not Leicester. Someone advised them, and the error was corrected.

Anyway, to read the whole review of A BRIEF HISTORY OF EVERYONE WHO EVER LIVED: The Human Story Retold Through Our Genes by Adam Rutherford, go here.

Archbishop of Canterbury found Richard’s funeral a slightly surreal experience….

Archbishop of Canterbury on Richard's Funeral

“Ahead of his three-day visit to Leicester, the Archbishop of Canterbury talks about the burial of King Richard III, his last major visit in the city, in 2015.

“The remains of King Richard III was reburied after his remains were found below a car park in 2012.

“The right-reverend Justin Welby led the service and says it was a surreal experience.”

The article from which the above passage is taken contains an interview with the Right Reverend Justin Welby. Bad marks ITV News – that second sentence/paragraph is dreadful!

 

The Swynford/ Beaufort case again

As we said five years ago, it is unclear whether John, Marquess of Somerset and Dorset, really was the son of John of Gaunt or of Sir Hugh Swynford. Furthermore, the common law answer to that question may be different to the genetic answer, as we revealed that Swynford could well have died after the conception, or even the birth of John “Beaufort”.

As hathawaysofhaworth reminded us in a comment here, the mediaeval year commenced on Lady Day, 25 March. Thus January, February and most March dates fall later in the same year as do 25 March to December. This gives more scope for Swynford’s life to have overlapped with the life, or gestation (“pre-life”) of Catherine de Roet’s middle child of seven.

Whilst Somerset’s (half-?) brother, Henry Beaufort, was a Cardinal, he did have an illegitimate daughter, unlike Thomas, Duke of Exeter. As Jane married Sir Edward Stradling in about 1423, according to the Cardinal’s will, we are still faced with the strong possibility that all those still surnamed Beaufort after his 1447 death were descended from Sir Hugh Swynford.

The Bones in the Urn again!…a 17th Century Hoax?

 

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19th century painting of the Henry VII Chapel by an unknown artist.  The entrance to the area where the urn stands is to the left of the tomb of Henry VII

Helen Maurer, in her wonderful article, Whodunnit: The Suspects in the Case  mentioned in the notes  ‘As for why the bones should have been discovered more or less where More said they would be, might it be profitable, if only in the interest of leaving no stone unturned, to forget about Richard, Henry and the late 15th century for the moment and concentrate upon Charles II and the political pressures and perceived necessities of the 1670s.  Any takers?’ Maurer then went on to cover this more fully in her articles Bones in the Tower – Part 2 (1).

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CHARLES II ‘THE MERRY MONARCH’ 

On going to the article, which was printed in the Ricardian in March 1991 pp 2-22, I was intrigued by this theory which seems plausible and makes much sense than the infamous  and ludicrous story given out by More.    In brief, a summary is given of Charles’ reign and the problems he encountered at the time including ‘an abiding public mistrust and rejection of  anything that smacked of absolutism’, religious intolerance, a Parliament who controlled Charles’ pursestrings and a general mistrust of each other.  As Maurer points out ‘As adjunct to these general observations it must be remembered that Charles was the son of a despised and executed monarch.  Experience made him wary.  Unable to  foresee the future, he could only know that tenure of the throne came without guarantees.  It should surprise no-one that Charles became a master of dissimulation….with an overriding concern to preserve what he could of royal power, while ensuring the succession'(2).  It would seem that perhaps the Merry Monarch was not so merry after all.

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THE INFAMOUS URN ……

Having found this theory plausible,  imagine my delight (and surprise) when listening to Pepys Diary that Pepys made the entry on 25 March 1663 that having gone to the chapel of  White Hall, with the King being present he heard a sermon by Dr Critton (Creighton).  The Dr  ‘told the king and ladies, plainly speaking of death and of skulls, how there is no difference, that nobody could tell that of the great Marius or Alexander from a pyoneer, nor, for all the pain the ladies take with their faces, he that should look into a charnel house should not distinguish which was Cleopatra’s or fair Rosamund’s or Jane Shore‘s (3).  This begs the question that having had  this idea planted in Charles head, and moving on to 1674, with building work being undertaken in the area of the Tower where a stair case was being demoralised. that the opportunity arose to get hold of some bones and plant them.  Bones would have been obtainable with ease considering the numerous  charnel houses and plague pits that abounded at that time.     Furthermore the ‘discovery’ of the bones was reported to Charles by Sir Thomas Critcheley, Master of the Ordnance , someone he was on friendly terms with and with whom he played tennis.  Maurer goes on to say ‘No doubt Critcheley’s report was verified by Charles’ chief surgeon Knight’.  The plot thickens as they say.

In summary Maurer wrote ‘Assessments of Charles’ character and of the situation in 1674 makes it high probable that the decision to commemorate these bones did not stem entirely from Charles’ mercy, as eventually inscribed upon the urn.  The inurnment was a political act, fraught with a political message for Charles’ own time.  This view is strongly supported by the manner in which it was accomplished.  The carelessness with which the remains were interred along with the bones of other animals, including chicken and fish and 3 rusty nails is striking evidence that the chief concern at the time was not reverent burial but the political statement made by a display of the urn.  It did not matter whose bones were placed in it, or whether they were all the same bones found in 1674 or even human bones, so long as something was put in it to be visibly commemorated’.

Samuel_Pepys.jpg

SAMUEL PEPYS, ARTIST JOHN HAYLES. SECRETARY TO THE ADMIRALTY  UNDER King Charles  MP, DIARIST AND FRIEND TO JAMES DUKE OF YORK

If this is indeed what happened and whether Pepys himself had a hand in it – he was indeed on very friendly terms with Charles’ brother James Duke of York, visiting him at the Duke’s home on numerous  occasions according to his diary – is a matter of speculation.  Did the old sermon preached on that day pop into someone’s head. That the bones of Edward IV’s sons, Edward and Richard, the so called ‘princes in the Tower’ would be non discernible from those of the sons of a beggar? And was it used to demonstrate to people that this fate is one that can easily befall disposed monarchs – and was this something to be desired?  Frustratingly Pepys stopped writing his Diary in 1669 and the bones not being ‘discovered’ until 1674 he made no entry pertaining to it.  It also begs the further question, if this speculation was correct, would he have ever written about it anyway?   Pepys wrote in shorthand and possibly he never intended  his diary to come into the public domain.  But it remains a tantalising thought that if only Pepys had continued with his diaries for longer one of the most enduring mysteries of all time may never have arisen.

1200px-James_II_by_Peter_Lely.jpg

JAMES II PAINTED BY LELY.   JAMES’  REIGN WAS ALSO TROUBLED LEADING TO HIM REPLACED BY HIS DAUGHTER MARY.

1.Whodunit The Suspects in the Case Helen Maurer note 30.

2.  Bones in the Tower Part 2 Helen Maurer Ricardian p10

3.  Pepys Diary Chapter 4 March 25 1663

 

 

 

 

 

An Easter exhibition

From Saturday to Easter Monday, the Richard III Visitor Centrekinglego1JPG will have a special interactive exhibition for children, including the chance to build the King from Lego bricks or to illustrate him in other ways.

 

The abduction of Jane Sacherverell in November 1485….

markyate-cell-gen-mag-1846large

Markyate Priory

Stealing women (and also male wards) was a shamefully common event, especially in the 14th century, as I wrote yesterday. But it was still going on in the 15th century. Richard legislated on behalf of women, but so did Henry VII, with a 1487 “Acte against taking awaye of Women against theire Willes”.

The following account, particularly of Jane Sacherverell’s case, has been paraphrased from the book Stolen Women in Medieval England by Caroline, of which the above link is an appreciative review.

According to one historian and writer, A. Cameron in Complaint and Reform in Henry VII’s Reign: The Origins of the Statute of 3 Henry VII, Henry was prompted by the case of the widow Jane Sacherverell. With Henry and his council acknowledged the inadequacies of the existing law in its failure to prevent Jane Sacherverell’s abduction. But E.W. Ives, in Agaynst Taking Away of Women, argued that Henry’s motivation was furious because he learned that some of his own servants were involved in another abduction, that of Margery Ruyton in 1487. So Henry’s legislation was actually directed at those who were accessories to the crime.

Earlier legislation was not robust enough, and failed to prevent Margery’s abduction, but Henry’s new legislation was no better, for in 1502 it signally failed to prevent of resolve abduction of Margaret Kebell.

Whatever the reason for the 1487 legislation, and the persistence of kidnapping as an issue before Parliament, the suggestion is that there was an underlying disquiet about the problem. Hmm. Easy to tell it was men doing the dithering. Men in power. I’ll bet the abduction and forcible marriage of a young male ward created far more squawking and flurrying of male feathers!

I have not been able to find any details about the case of Margery Ruyton, but for those who wonder about the unfortunate Jane Sacherverell, I will explain a little. The pope alluded to the wealth of forced marriage victims, their abductors being “more desirous of patrimony than matrimony”. Thus most captured women were wealthy in both property and goods. The widowed Jane Sacherverell had married into a family of Derbyshire gentry that had been prominent since the late 13th century. They became knights and had served as Justices of the Peace since at least the 1430s. Jane was obviously a likely target for some man on the make, because widows possessed the property and goods of their late husbands. The man in question this time was William Willoughby of Wollaton. Anyone who married Jane would have immediate control of everything, at least until the majority of her son by her late husband. And we all know how often young heirs failed to reach their majority. William’s eye was on the main chance—that death might present him with the lot. Nice one, if it worked.

The following passage is from https://www.nottingham.ac.uk/manuscriptsandspecialcollections/learning/medievalwomen/theme6/documents.aspx

“Mi 5/168/23/1: Extract from bill of complaint relating to the abduction and forced marriage of Jane Sacheverell (1485, English) – this above document can be viewed at the site.

“Jane Sacheverell was an heiress, the only daughter of Henry Stathum of Hopwell and Morley in Derbyshire. Her husband Sir John Sacheverell died either in 1483 or at the Battle of Bosworth in 1485. In order to protect her young son Henry’s inheritance, the Sacheverell family arranged a marriage contract for Jane with their friend and neighbour, William Zouche. Their plans were scuppered when another family, the Willoughbys, abducted Jane and forced her to marry Richard Willoughby of Wollaton. This extract from a bill of complaint brought in Jane’s name describes the abduction on 11 November 1485. At the time of the abduction, the offence was a mere trespass under the law, but two years later King Henry VII made it a felony, in the Act ‘agaynst taking awaye of Women agaynst theire Wills’ (3 Henry VII, c.2).

“A settlement was made between the families in May 1486. Jane obtained a divorce from Richard Willoughby on the grounds of her precontract with William Zouche, whom she went on to marry. A ‘precontract’ was a formal trothplight (agreement to marry, in front of witnesses), which had the legal force of a marriage solemnized in church.

“After William’s death nearly 50 years later, Jane became a nun at Markyate Priory in Bedfordshire. She was Prioress there from 1508 until the dissolution of the monasteries in 1536, when she received a Crown pension. . .”

One wonders if even then, at that late stage, she was taking no chances of being snatched again! No, that was a flippant remark, but someone in her situation must surely have always glanced over her shoulder, or woken with a start in the night on hearing some odd noise or other.

Information about Markyate Priory: http://www.hertfordshire-genealogy.co.uk/data/places/places-m/markyate/markyate-cell.htm

 

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