murreyandblue

A great WordPress.com site

Archive for the month “Jun, 2019”

Secret Marriages – Edward IV & his Two Wives, the Novel

Over the years there has been lots of fiction written about Edward IV, Elizabeth Woodville and of course Richard III. However, there is one one figure in their story who often gets a mention, but  is rarely portrayed as a living person, with the events long after her death in 1468 taking the forefront instead.  This, of course, is Eleanor Boteler, or more correctly, Eleanor Talbot, daughter of  the  Earl of Shrewsbury. Possibly the only novel in which Eleanor  has played a major role is John Crowne’s THE MISERY OF CIVIL WAR, which first appeared in 1680! (In this work, very strangely, Eleanor dies at Edward’s hands at Barnet,  after first cursing him!)

In SECRET MARRIAGES, a new short novel, Eleanor takes the forefront through most of the book, although some chapters are from Edward’s point of view and still others from Elizabeth Woodville’s. Amongst other things, the novel covers Eleanor’s heritage, which has been rather ignored by certain ‘historians’, many novelists and the general public (when the latter  know  about her at all). I recall one blogpost where someone stated ‘Ricardians say she was the daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury’. Well, ‘Ricardians’ don’t ‘say’ anything–for that is exactly who she was without question! And her ancestry is far more complex than just being the Earl’s daughter–few seem aware, in fiction or otherwise, that Warwick was her uncle by marriage, and Anne and Isabel, his daughters, her cousins. Eleanor’s mother was Margaret Beauchamp, half-sister to Warwick’s wife, Anne Beauchamp. She also had distant royal descent–certainly not a ‘nobody’ as some have tried to make her.

She had living relatives of high status too. Her sister, to whom she seemed close,  was none other than Elizabeth, the Duchess of Norfolk, mother of Anne Mowbray, who was married as a child to Richard of Shrewsbury, the younger of the ‘Princes in the Tower,’ but died at a young age. (Her coffin was found in the 60’s  in a demolition site which stood on top of the medieval remnants of the Poor Clare’s convent. Interestingly, this was not Anne’s original burial site; she’d been interred in Westminster Abbey, but good old Henry VII had shunted her body out to the nuns when he pulled down St Erasmus’ chapel to build his own chapel.) Anyway, Duchess Elizabeth attended the Coronation of Richard III, and there was no protest from her or  her family that Eleanor had been ‘slandered’ or the story ‘made up.’.

SECRET MARRIAGES also tries to give a picture of where, with the the scanty surviving evidence as teased out by the late Dr John Ashdown-Hill, Eleanor may have lived and where the marriage with Edward may have taken place (thought to be sometime around June 1461). One likely candidate is scenic Burton Dassett in Warwickshire, with its fine church filled by interesting medieval carvings. The story goes on to show Eleanor’s patronage of Corpus Christi College in Cambridge  (a carving of a Talbot hound still adorns the buildings) and attempts to recreate the bustle of medieval Norwich and the House of the Carmelites where she was laid to rest, now sadly destroyed save for a ruined archway, although the magnificent and perhaps unique entrance portal still survives, although not in situ, inside the Courts of Justice across the river.

Hopefully, SECRET MARRIAGES, can bring Eleanor Talbot a little more into the light–the Queen who might have been. And for the naysayers about Edward’s first marriage, look at Edward IV’s history with Elizabeth Woodville–he kept that marriage secret for months after it took place. Do you really think he might not have done the same thing before?

 

SECRET MARRIAGES NOVEL-UNIVERSAL LINK

 

secretmarriagessmall

Wonderful wall paintings under the whitewash. . .

Caption for the above illustration: The north wall, displaying a Nativity framed by the Seven Ages of Man. At lower left is a cradled infant, helpfully labelled ‘INFANS’; next, we have Boyhood (see him spinning a top with his whip), then, mostly lost, Adolescence, followed by Youth (with a hawk on his wrist). Manhood follows (with sword), but, from then, things go downhill: Old Age (the figure clutching a bag, perhaps of money) is followed by ‘DECREPITUS’, with a crutch. Below are the Apostles James, John and Jude, part of a series of the 12. The scrolls originally spelt out the clause of the Apostles’ Creed that they were believed to have composed. The female figure (third from left) personifies the institution of the Church. Below them are birds – ostriches at the extremities – based on contemporary and part-fanciful books of birds and beasts, accompanied by more realistic cranes.

“. . .In September 1945, Hubert Horrell, dairy farmer at Tower Farm, at Longthorpe in Cambridgeshire, made an astonishing discovery. Removing layers of ancient whitewash in the first-floor room of the tower that gave the farm its name, Horrell was greeted by the hands, stares and bright colours of figures painted six centuries before. . .”

“. . .Recognising something special, he contacted Hubert Elliot, agent of Milton Hall Estates and the Fitzwilliams (of Wentworth Woodhouse fame), owners of the property since the late 15th century. Elliot and Capt W. T. G Fitzwilliam – later the 10th and last Earl Fitzwilliam – wisely turned to the Society of Antiquaries of London, which called in its Fellow and wall-painting specialist, Edward Clive Rouse (1901–97). . .”

To read more, go to this page …

Imagine being in Henry VII’s marriage bed, and….

This bed is far too beautiful for Henry VII. In my opinion, anyway. As to finding it in a hotel…well, what if you were snuggled there, anticipating your cooked breakfast next morning, when Henry’s ghost clambers in beside you???? Lawks!

To read more, go here.

Britain’s Most Historic Towns (2)

This excellent Channel Four programme, presented by Professor Alice Roberts, with Dr. Ben Robinson in the helicopter, has returned for a new series. The early venues were Dover (World War Two, visiting the underground base, concentrating on the retreat from Dunkirk and subsequent Channel defence, meeting some survivors, wearing ATS uniform and riding in a tank), her home city Bristol (Georgian, with slavery, gin, chocolate and great architecture featured) and Cardiff (where coal and the Marquess of Bute brought much prosperity in the Edwardian era, before it could supplant Machyllenth as Wales’ capital).

The series then moved on to Oxford to illustrate the Civil War sieges, where Alice Roberts’ Worsleyesque love of dressing up saw her in New Model Army uniform, playing real tennis and viewing Charles I’s ersatz capital. Episode five illustrated Plantagenet Canterbury, featuring St. Augustine, Becket, Chaucer, the Black Death and Peasants’ Revolt. We were also shown a copy of the Magna Carta. The last show was about Stewart Stirling, where she visited the Castle and walls, brewed beer, played with a replica antique football and visited a well, illustrating how individual Stewart monarchs were vulnerable, even to internal opposition, but the line was secure.

The Trial That Should Have Happened in 1483

RICARDIAN LOONS

Putting aside the mystery of what ultimately happened to Edward IV’s two sons, one enduring difficulty for a student of history is whether Richard III used the proper legal procedure in having them declared illegitimate because of their father’s precontracted marriage to Eleanor Talbot.  The most (and only) significant defect appears to be the failure to refer the issue to a church court for determination.[1]  But it seems no one has fleshed out how an ecclesiastical tribunal would have litigated such an extraordinary and unprecedented matter, let alone identified which church court would have had authority to hear it.

As a retired litigator of 20 years, I undertook the challenge of researching medieval English church court procedures and precedent cases to answer four questions: Which church court would have decided the precontract issue? How would it have conducted the litigation? What evidence would it have heard? How conclusive would…

View original post 5,008 more words

1872, and Richard III’s in the lead in New Orleans….

 

In New Orleans on Feb. 13, 1872, someone wearing a Richard III costume led the first Rex parade. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rex_parade

“For George Armstrong Custer the occasion of the first Rex parade on Feb. 13, 1872 was one of the few marches in his life in which he was a spectator and not a participant. Custer, whose memory was not far removed from the bloody days of the Civil War and his heroics at Bull Run and Gettysburg, now had a more civil assignment. He was accompanying the Russian Grand Duke Alexi Alexanrovich on his tour of the country, including hunting buffalo in Nebraska. Now the itinerary called for a stop in New Orleans, where the French tradition of celebrating Mardi Gras was being embellished by the Americans in the form of a debuting parade headed by a newly created King of Carnival named Rex.

“Custer, whose interest in New Orleans also included the recently opened Fairgrounds racetrack, was probably a second tier celebrity among the stellar folks who happened to be in town that day. First there was the Grand Duke himself, bonafide royalty seldom seen in this frontier town. There was Dan Rice, whose travelling horse show in those pre-Barnum days was one of the biggest names in American circuses. Lawrence Barrett, the distinguished Shakespearean, was performing and even loaned Rex his Richard III costume for his ride. There were also two renowned burlesque performers – Lydia Thompson and Lotta Crabtree, both major stars in their profession.”

Read more at this blog.

Hello John…meet John, and John, and John….!

I have moaned before about the prevalence of certain names during the medieval period. In particular the name John. So, on reading an essay entitled “English Diplomatic Documents 1377-99”, I was amused to find the following: “…on 25th June, 1382, John Harleston, knight, John Appleby, dean of St Paul’s, London, and Masters John Barnet and John Blanchard, doctors of laws, [were] sent to Brittany to conclude a truce agreement with Duke John IV…” Well, they wouldn’t have had any trouble remembering each other’s names, right?

The illustration above is taken from this interesting site about one of Henry VII’s diplomatic enterprises.

Ludlow Castle in the snow, but in “Tudor” times….

Ludlow Castle in the snow - postcard

I have just come upon this postcard scene of Ludlow Castle, with Prince Arthur and Catherine of Aragon. I really like it, and imagine it must be available from the castle shop.

Having seen Ludlow in the snow, I would love to think of such a scene when Prince Arthur and Catherine were there. Or, better still, imagine it when the Mortimers were there, or Richard III as a boy.

The “mysterious” disappearance of Edward V….?

 

I have a number of beefs about the following extract from this article, which concerns eight unsolved royal mysteries. No, not about the present family, as shown in the above illustration (which is from the article). In the list, the third one is all that is of interest to Ricardians:-

“….3. The mysterious disappearance of King Edward V — shortly after he ascended the throne, his uncle, the Duke of Gloucester and ‘protector of the realm,’ sent him and his younger brother to London ‘for their protection.’ After the brothers were never seen again, the duke declared himself King Richard III….”

Firstly, I don’t really think Edward V ascended the throne. He never was the anointed king. This required a coronation. Secondly, we have the usual inference that Richard did away with his nephews. Thirdly, the younger boy wasn’t sent to London, he was already there. Fourthly, Richard accompanied the older boy to London, fully intending to arrange his coronation. Subsequent events took over, and Richard was invited to take the throne because he was the legitimate heir!

Some dilgirunt for His Majesty, if you please….!

Medieval dishes

Don’t you just love it when glossaries cross-reference you from the word you seek, to another word, which then refers you back to the first word – with no definition or explanation whatsoever?

I have just been looking at this culinary glossary, seeking more information about an intriguing medieval dish known as ‘dilgirunt’. Intriguing because of its unusual history. But, when looking up dilgirunt, I am referred to ‘malpigeryum’. Just that dilgirunt = malpigeryum = dilgirunt. Not a word about what these words actually mean. But from other sources, I know that dilgirunt is a sort of spiced chicken pottage/porridge/gruel, and that if lard/suet is added to it during cooking, it becomes malpigeryum. But in spite of my quibble about the above glossary, the site is nevertheless good for reference.

So that we know what we’re talking about with dilgirunt, here is an old recipe:-

‘Take almonde mylk, and draw hit up thik with vernage, and let hit boyle, and braune of capons braied and put therto; and cast therto sugre, claves (cloves), maces, pynes, and ginger mynced; and take chekyns parboyled and chopped, and pul of the skin, and boyle al ensemble, and, in the settynge doune of the fire, put therto a lytel vynegur alaied with pouder of ginger, and a lytel water of everose, and make the potage hanginge, and serve hit forth.’ — Household Ordinances (Society of Antiquaries), page 466.

Well, I hope you can follow the above, because although I did find a modern English version, I failed to make a note of where, and now cannot find it anywhere. Sorry about that.

The yellow-highlighted entry in the illustration below is a lengthy explanation of Dilgirunt. It is from Munimenta Gildhallae Londoniensis – Liber Albus, Liber Custumarum et Liber Horn, in Archivis Gildhallae Asservati – Volume 2. Liber Custumarum, with Extracts from the Cottonian MS. Claudius, D.II.

From as early as Edward I, and at least until George IV, diligrunt was traditionally served at coronations. Providing it was the jealously guarded right of the Barons Bardolf, Lords of the Manor of Addington, near present day Croydon. I’m not sure how the tradition first arose, but the barons were proud of their right. And when the Leigh family became Lords of Addington, they inherited the right to provide dilgirunt at the monarch’s coronation. Finally the right passed to the Archbishops of Canterbury, when they became lords of the village. I do not know if it was served at the coronation of our present queen. It would be interesting to know.

Coronation of George IV, 1821

This extract from the National Archives provides a description of the 1377 coronation ceremony of Richard II. It demonstrates how influential individuals and power groups wanted to secure their right to be involved in a medieval coronation ceremony. Interesting reading, and sometimes quite curious and quaint. For instance, if you go down the list to Number 15, you find:

“. . .William de Bardolf tenant of certain lands in Adynton. Petition to find a man in the king’s kitchen to make a mess called ‘dilgirunt’, and if lard be added it is called ‘malpigeryuin’. Claim admitted, and service performed. . .”

Three separate dishes of dilgirunt were then provided. One for the monarch, one for the Archbishop of Canterbury, and one for an individual the monarch chose to nominate.

It is interesting to think that if the dish was ceremonially served at all coronations from Edward I to George IV, then it must have featured when Richard III was crowned. A little research soon revealed that it was. At least, I think  that’s what I understand from a “dilgirunt” reference to The Coronation of Richard III : the Extant Documents, edited by Sutton and Hammond. (Gloucester: Alan Sutton; New York: St Martin’s, 1983) I wonder if Richard liked the dainty dish that was set before him? You can read a lot more about his coronation here.

If dilgirunt was offered to Henry VII, I can only hope a stray chicken bone stuck in his throat!

Henry VII by Luke Harookhi

 

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: