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Archive for the month “Mar, 2019”

So if …

… Edward IV is either Mr. Rochester or Captain Mainwaring, which other fictional character may be based on one of his contemporaries?
John, 1st Earl of Shrewsbury, posthumously Edward’s father-in-law, who was identified after the battle of Castillon by the gap between his teeth might be Terry-Thomas?
Domenico Mancini, a foreign visitor who barely understood the English language or our law and customs could be Manuel the waiter, perhaps ?

Spot the deliberate mistakes?

An article in British History Online , as illustrated by this John Zephaniah Bell painting says:
“Here [Westminster Abbey/Sanctuary/Cheyneygates] the unhappy queen [Elizabeth Woodville] was induced by the Duke of Buckingham and the Archbishop of York to surrender her little son, Edward V., to his uncle Richard, who carried him to the Tower, where the two children shared a common fate.”

Ashdown-Hill’s The Mythology of the “Princes in the Tower” (ch.9, p.49) talks about the confusion between Shrewsbury and Sir Richard Grey, who WAS arrested at Stony Stratford. ch.10 p.54 includes your c19 portrait: “Buckingham was also a leading member of a delegation which, on Monday 16 June, was sent by boat a short distance up the Thames to Westminster Abbey, to try to persuade Elizabeth Woodville to release her younger son, RICHARD DUKE OF YORK, from sanctuary and send him to join his elder brother at the King’s Lodgings in the Tower. However, the person who actually led the deputation into the sanctuary at Westminster had to be a priest. Therefore the group was led by another royal cousin, Cardinal Bourchier, Archbishop of CANTERBURY”.
The same volume points out that we don’t know about any “common fate”, whilst putting us in a better position to find out.

Where a refugee from Towton fled

Today in 1461, which was Palm Sunday, the Battle of Towton was fought, resulting in a Yorkist victory with large scale casualties. Legend has it that Henry VI fled to Muncaster Castle, then in Cumberland, where he gave his host Sir John Pennington a glass drinking bowl. It became known as the “Luck of Muncaster” such that both host family and deposed monarch would thrive so long as the bowl remained intact. It does today and the Penningtons (originally Alan de Penitone when granted the building in 1208) still own the castle, although the fragile Henry died just over ten years later.

This building was visited by Paul Rose in his recent BBC2 The Lakes series.

The Church of St. Alkelda at Middleham

History of St Mary and St Alkelda Church

If you go to Middleham, your priority will be to visit the castle of King Richard III but you can’t leave this fabulous town of the Dales without having a look at the church of St Mary and St Alkelda. This church is a must for visitors, especially Ricardians, and considering it is not a massive church, it has a lot to offer to those who love historical buildings.

The first church on the actual spot where the present church is built dates back to the 12th century but just a couple of stones are still there. The actual date of the foundation of the church seems to be the year 1280.

The dedication of the church is to the Virgin Mary and St Alkelda. Myth and folklore surround this saint and many even doubt her existence, even though in 1818, when the nave was dug, a stone coffin was found. When it was opened, the mortal remains of a woman were found and in the exact spot where tradition indicates St Alkelda was buried in the south east corner of the present church.  The meaning of her name derives from the Old English – Norse healikeld in Modern English “holy well”. It seems that there was a well close to the church and the water was very effective for eye problems.

The new church was built around 1350 while the tower was added in 1450 approximately. St Alkelda was martyred around 800 AD so it is possible that a Christian society was already active in Middleham. However, we need to go to 1280 to have a church there with a nave, aisles and a chancel. The following year, Mary of Middleham was born. She is thought to have been the heiress to the castle and the patron of the church. The first mention of the church is found in a taxation document by Pope Nicholas IV in 1291. The value of the church was fixed at £8. In 1310 the church was endowed with lands to increase the value of the building.

The Feast Day of St Alkelda was granted in 1388 by Richard II on 5th November and lasted 3 days. In 1470 Edward IV granted a license to found a chantry in the south aisle. Previously, in 1460 St Alkelda and the castle of Middleham was the house of Richard Neville, better known as Warwick the Kingmaker. After the death of Richard, Duke of York, Cecily Neville of Raby, his wife, moved with her children to Middleham. Warwick made Edward Plantagenet King Edward IV but when this latter failed the Kingmaker’s expectations by “marrying” Elizabeth Woodville and not a French princess, Neville plotted against him, planning to put on the throne George Duke of Clarence, the King’s brother, or to restore Henry VI. The outcome was the battle of Barnet, where Warwick lost his life. Middleham castle and lands including the church were granted to the youngest of Cecily Neville’s sons Richard Duke of Gloucester, who later became King Richard III. He married Anne Neville, one of Warwick’s daughters and inherited the Lordship of Middleham.

In 1477, possibly at Gloucester’s request, Edward IV, his brother, granted a license for transforming St Alkelda into a College with a Dean, six Chaplains, four Clerks, a Sacristan and six Choristers. In the Statute drawn up by Richard Gloucester, the Dean was appointed to lead perpetual masses for the Royal Yorkist family. A copy of the original statute is currently displayed on the left aisle under the white boar and the stained glass window depicting Richard and his family. When Richard became King Richard III, the church became known as the King’s College, Middleham. Sadly, in 1547, the Chantry was closed by Act of Parliament under Henry VIII’s Reformation of the Church. It seems that the Collegiate title was one in name only because it was never listed as an exempted Collegiate church in the Act for the Dissolution of Chantries in 1547 during the reign of Edward VI.

In 1538 Thomas Cromwell decided to allow couples to marry in St Alkelda without a license or banns. This practice stopped in the 18th century. Because of this, St Alkelda was a sort of Gretna Green in Yorkshire.

In 1839, Dean Wood tried to revive the Chapter appointing six Canons and reinstated the Cathedral form of service. In 1845 the status of Royal Peculiar ended. The Dean became a Rector and St Alkelda an ordinary parish church under the Bishop of Ripon.

St Alkelda has many valuable objects and decorations. Apart from the 14th century relief of the Crucifixion and the 15th century glass depicting St Alkelda’s martyrdom, the visitors can also appreciate the Saxon gravestones in the north aisle, the 14th century stone font and chancel arch. In addition to this, there is the Lady Chapel aisle with Richard III’s White Boar standard, a copy of his royal seal, a copy of the statute of the church signed by Richard Gloucester and the beautiful window depicting the King and his family.

There are many other artefacts and decorations in St Alkelda to see such as the medieval grave covers, the carved gargoyles, the copy of the Middleham jewel and much more. St Alkelda is a church belonging to the Anglican Diocese of Leeds.

St Alkelda Pilgrimage Way

There is a new plan going on as regards St Alkelda; a walking route around 35 miles long that follows an ancient prehistoric and Roman route for most of the way. It goes through the Yorkshire Dales National Park and it would take walkers 2-3 days to complete it depending on how experienced they were.

The route from Middleham goes via Coverdale, passing by little hamlets, Coverham Abbey, churches with monastic associations, evidence of ancient settlements, tumuli and an impressive earthwork. It then takes in Kettlewell (tourist centre), passes down Wharfedale to Kilnsey, up  and into the  limestone hill country, Mastiles Lane, an ancient trackway, Roman camp, the remains of 5 medieval wayfaring crosses. Il passes down Celtic and medieval field systems into Malham tourist centre and where the archaeological dig of St Helen’s chapel, holy well and graveyard, medieval and Anglo-Saxon, takes place in May. From there it goes past Malham Cove, peregrine falcon reserve, a spectacular limestone scenery, down to Stockdale Lane and descends to Ribblesdale past evidence of a Roman camp waterfalls,  limestone caves where prehistoric and Romano-British remains have been found,  Settle, market town and across the river to Giggleswick and its church.

On the route, we see how the different rocks – limestone and millstone grit mostly, produce different scenery, grass colours and flora. In St Alkelda’s day, there would have been marsh and bog around the rivers, woodland and even thick forest in places, the habitat of deer, wolves, bears, and wild boar. These animals are mentioned in some Celtic nature poetry, also Prayers for Protection! It was the monks and their sheep during the Middle Ages who changed the landscape to what it looks like today. The plan has just started but visitors and good walkers will soon enjoy the awesome St Alkelda Pilgrimage Way.

The truth about Richard….

Mouth of Truth

Here is something to cheer. A little article, part of which deals with the truth about Richard III. And yes, Josephine Tey’s “Daughter of Time” gets a long mention too.

 

 

Sixty-four bottoms sitting in a row….?

toilets

An article that is further to this …

Yes, the illustration above is funny (from our fastidious modern viewpoint) but it is also accurate for toilet facilities from early medieval times, right up into the 20th century. I am now in my seventies, and can remember in my country childhood finding outhouses/privies with up to four ‘facilities’, and yes, the holes were in a row in a single wooden plank. So, to me, the thought that in earlier times there were even more in a row is quite obvious. It seems that Richard ‘Dick’ Whittington provided one that could seat 64 bottoms at a time! Wow, that’s a lot of…well, cheeks. The difference is, however, that those small affairs that I came across always had paper – usually newspaper ripped/cut up and sewn into a convenient bunch. And, later, rolls of that awful Bronco stuff that was shiny and didn’t absorb anything! The newspaper was infinitely better. http://broughttolife.sciencemuseum.org.uk/broughttolife/objects/display?id=1790

Anyway, the illustration doesn’t show any provision at all for the wiping of bottoms. How did they manage? Just do their business and then walk away? Hmm, the consequences of that don’t bear thinking about. Our fastidious modern selves would have the vapours. Erm, in a manner of speaking.

Then, of course, those fragrant facilities had to be emptied – as described by Tony Robinson in his Worst Jobs in History series. Sometimes it wasn’t necessary, for example in the public loos overhanging the Thames, which carried their ‘business’ downstream…and then upstream again, and then downstream again, and so on, as the tides chose. So what was convenient and reasonably hygienic at the place of origin, soon became a much greater problem courtesy of the Thames. It continued until a sewage system was built in the 19th century. At huge expense. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_sewerage_system Then, eventually, the Thames ceased to stink, and the need for delightful little scented posies/nosegays was no longer necessary in Parliament. Well, not to fend off the stench from the Thames…the garbage issuing from some speechifying was another matter.

The following is from http://queryblog.tudorhistory.org/2013/10/question-from-george-toilet-facilities.html:

“While the lower courtiers had to use the malodorous communal facilities of the Great House of Easement [at Hampton Court] when they answered a call of nature, Henry VIII had the use of a specially designed box tucked away in a private room off the state bedchamber. This ‘close-stool’ was lavishly covered in black velvet and its lid opened to reveal a padded and beribboned interior covered in the same material. It had a hole in the centre with a pewter bowl placed underneath….it was a privilege to be the Groom of the Stool with the duty of attending the King when he relieved himself, and the position often went to a high-ranking courtier.”

“In 1539, one groom recorded how Henry VIII had taken laxative pills and an enema, sleeping until 2am ‘when His Grace rose to go upon his stool which, with the working of the pills and the enema, His Highness had taken before, had a very fair siege’.”

Ew. Too much information….

PS: Since writing the above, I have come across further information about the, um, toilet habits of our ancestors. Specifically, the Romans. It seems the old sponge-soaked-in-vinegar-and-stuck-on-a-stick tale might not be the whole story! https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-21204228?fbclid=IwAR26yFjrjUgnKqGvwmQMtkk5fYc4pXIKHB5pvvY8x1YM969iKV0sOJMhuC8

A historian fisks “The Outlaw King”.

In this article, Fiona Watson discusses the main points and the errata in the series The Outlaw King, about Robert I’s accession and reign. It deals with issues such as Robert I’s lineage, Wallace’s execution, the killing of Comyn and his encounter with Edward II at Bannockburn, although the latter wasn’t active at Loudoun Hill in early 1307, as the programme states.

At least, as she concludes, it is more accurate than Braveheart.

A Mediaeval Feast in Essex

I stupidly decided to cook a mediaeval feast to celebrate New Year’s Eve with some friends. I say ‘stupidly’ not because it wasn’t a success but because the amount of work and fiddly techniques nearly killed me!

I wanted to do something similar to one of the courses of Richard’s coronation feast, so about 15-20 dishes, mixed sweet and savoury. I had tasted some mediaeval recipes while at Middleham in July and loved the different tastes and rich flavours, so I bought the recipe book the dishes had come from. This was ‘The Medieval Cookbook: Feast for the King, compiled by Patricia Rice-Jones. I also had another book, The Medieval Cookbook by Maggie Black

I chose a variety of recipes and created the following menu: A Mediaeval Menu

Obviously, one person (me) would not be able to cook all this in one day, so I began early and started with the sugared almonds, crystallised ginger and mixed pickles. The recipes were not difficult, but very fiddly and time-consuming as they were all done from scratch. There were often several processes to go through for each dish. Even the sugared almonds required you to painstakingly add a tablespoon of sugared water to the almonds in a pan and jiggle them about over the heat until dry – several times over! The vegetables and apple for the pickle had to be hand peeled and sliced before the process started.

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I then made some stocks to freeze for several of the recipes, made from lamb and chicken bones. With the lamb stock, I made the venison stew – I did it in the slow cooker and the smell was fantastic! Not so when I tasted it! The unfamiliar herbs I had used (hyssop and savory) were extremely bitter and the stew tasted horrible. Knowing I could not serve this concoction as it was, I added honey, red wine and cranberries. Phew! It was delicious. I let it cool and froze it. Here is the finished dish, served in bread trenchers with a slice of frumenty.

2018-12-31 19.50.11

Venison stew and frumenty

The next cooking session involved pastries. I made figs in coffins and the chicken pasties with ready rolled pastry (I’m not a complete idiot!) and froze them to cook on the day.  Then I made the ‘Grete Pye’. This was formed of a layer of minced beef with suet and spices. Then a layer of game meat, a layer of chopped dates and prunes with spices and finally another layer of minced beef. I made a pastry rose design to decorate it (of course!). Here are the figs in coffins and Grete Pye:

Over the next couple of weeks, I cooked various dishes which could be made in advance, such as the wine sauce for the salmon and the chicken (which would later be crowned with eggs). These are the finished dishes:

The day before, I spent most of the day preparing and cooking, in particular the Leche Solace (a sort of blancmange) and the Geli Partied with a Device had to be allowed to set in the fridge and the orange segments were marinated in honey and spices. The pictures here are of the Leche Solace and the baked orange served in the halved peel.

I will relate the procedure to make the Geli to show you how elaborate and intricate some of the processes were. This jelly was made with a bottle of fruity, white wine and a pound of sugar, some cinnamon, nutmeg and fresh ginger. After simmering for about ten minutes, it is cooled for three to four hours, then strained through muslin lined with coarsely-ground almonds. Milk is added and it is then strained several times through muslin until it clears (I gave up after six times – it would have to do!). Gelatin, dissolved in water, is added to the reheated wine mixture and stirred until dissolved. White rose petals were placed in the dish and the mixture poured over and left to set – I had picked the last white rose from my garden in November and frozen it. I had one leaf and I arranged it with some of the petals on the top once it had set. For me it was the most delicious item. Here is a photo of it.

Phto of Geli partied with a device

Geli Partied with a Device

On the day, New Year’s Eve, I was still cooking. I reheated the venison stew in the slow cooker, made the frumenty and Lombard slices, roasted the salmon and baked the frozen pastries. The sauce for the salmon had to be reheated and the pears had to be peeled and poached and the oranges baked. I made the dough for the fritters from scratch and left them to rise. Trying to time all of this was an absolute nightmare!

Photo of roasted salmon

Roasted Salmon

However, the feast was a great success, all except the sautéed lamprey, which was disgusting – we all tried one small piece and gave the rest to the dogs. There was so much food, I didn’t bother to cook the fritters until late in the evening, as no-one had enough room to eat any! The fritters and lamprey are pictured below.

The feast was finished off with a gingerbread ‘subtletie’ of a York Rose with gold leaf centre. I also made Hippocras (spiced wine) and served Lindisfarne mead.

Photo of gingerbread subtletie

Gingerbread Subtletie

My guests entered into the spirit by dressing up. All in all, it was a great success but I will never voluntarily make a mediaeval feast again, although I may well make some of the individual dishes and I have already used some of the more unusual spices that I don’t normally use.

Photo of 'mediaeval' guests

‘Mediaeval’ Guests

 

THE MISSING HEAD OF SIR WALTER RALEIGH

Recently a strange red bag was found at  West Horsley Place in Surrey. It is believed by its finders to have once contained the severed head of  Sir Walter Raleigh who was executed on October 29, 1618.

Further tests on the bag , which is certainly of the correct period, will be undertaken.  Legends did say that Bess Throckmorton, Raleigh’s wife, carried off her husband’s severed head from the execution site at Westminster  in a red bag. Of course, the recently found bag would not be the same one, which would have been heavily blood-stained; if this newly-found artefact did hold Raleigh’s head it would have been used at a later date, once mummification of the skull  had taken place. Further legends do state the head was not buried with its owner but kept by Bess in a ‘case.’

The fact that the widowed Bess did in fact live at West Horsley, home of her son Carew, does raise the possibility that this bag was indeed used to house the head.

SirWalterRaleighseveredhead

 

And that’s not all that’s recently turned up regarding Sir Walter Raleigh. A drawing hidden for centuries under layers of whitewash is thought to  be a self-portrait drawn by  Raleigh during his long imprisonment in the ‘Bloody Tower’.

 

raleighsselfportrait

 

behead

An odd connection

Two of the late twentieth century’s greatest composers share a birthday today. One of these is Stephen Sondheim and the other is Andrew, Baron Lloyd Webber. Neither of them have intentionally written about the events of 1483 or the major characters thereof but there is an interesting connection.

Here are the lyrics to a song from Phantom of the Opera. The very first line reads “Think of me, think of me fondly”. As we showed in our graphology series, Harre Bokyngham’s motto was “Souvente Me Souvene”, which expresses a similar sentiment.

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