The above illustration is of the British Crown Jewels as we know them now, but there were predecessors, long gone now, thanks to the efforts of Oliver Cromwell, who had no truck with such baubles.
We are inclined to forget that there was a Welsh crown too, until it was seized by Edward I in 1283. The picture immediately above is of Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, Prince of Wales, crowned and seated beneath his arms. It is not contemporary, but is set when he paid homage to Henry III in 1267.
The next illustration above is from the 16th century, and shows the arms of Wales, surmounted by a crown of unusual design. Llywelyn’s crown was still around at this time (pre-Cromwell) and so this may well be an accurate depiction of the crown that Edward I seized in 1283.
Llywelyn’s crown (Talaith Llywelyn) was left at Cymer Abbey (together with other priceless items) at the start of Llywelyn’s final campaign, but was seized by Edward I when Llywelyn was killed in 1282.
The death of Llywelyn and his grave at Cymher (Cymhir) For more about the abbey, see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abbeycwmhir
Taken to Westminster Abbey, it was presented to the shrine of Edward the Confessor as a symbol of the crushing of the Welsh. Before this presentation it was coated in gold to make it look more impressive, which the contributor to Wikipedia thinks is an indication that the original was perhaps made of iron.
It remained in Westminster Abbey, until transferred to the Tower of London at the beginning of the 14th century. It remained in English hands until Oliver Cromwell came along, warts and all. Or rather, it does not appear to have still been present when he melted down the Crown Jewels. Where had it gone? And when?
Tapestry showing Arthur, circa 1385
No one knows the age of this lost crown, or what else was left with it at Cymer Abbey. However, when it was all seized by Edward I, the crown of King Arthur was said to have been among it. This latter crown was believed to have been forged much earlier. Now, whether the “crown of Arthur” is a general term for principality of Wales, or refers to the actual crown of King Arthur is not known. And there is some confusion as to whether this crown of Arthur was actually the same item as Llywelyn’s crown. One and the same crown. If it was indeed the crown of King Arthur. It was truly priceless.
Maybe it still is, if we knew where to look. . .
In the meantime, Llywelyn ap Gruffydd is still remembered. See https://alchetron.com/Llywelyn-ap-Gruffudd
Lurking? Well, apart from me, of course, and my camera (which I managed to mess up rather, so apologies for the quality of the two portrait-photos, which were taken on 9th June 2018.
Richard and Elizabeth of York were among the many portraits. Of course, there having been so many Fitzalans and Howards at Arundel over the centuries, there weren’t many from the medieval period. If Henry VII sneaked in, I didn’t spot him. I couldn’t get in front of the portraits, or even all that close, so these were the best I could manage. Again, sorry they’re such poor quality.
The picture I took of John Howard’s (1st Duke of Norfolk) portrait was blurred, and so I have found it online. His portrait was large, and had pride of place, so I imagine they are proud of him. And rightly so, of course.
Since first writing this article, I have learned (courtesy of Susan Troxell) more about the portrait of Richard III. She made enquiries at Arundel Castle, and received the following from Dr John Martin Robinson, Librarian to the Duke of Norfolk:-
“Thankyou for your email. It is likely that the portrait of Richard III belonged to Lord Lumley in the 16th century, and was acquired from him with other family portraits by his nephew Thomas, the ‘Collector’ Earl of Arundel in the early 17th century. And then by descent in the Howard family.”
Thank you for your help, Susan.
All in all, Arundel Castle was an excellent experience, except for all the nineteenth-century Gothic. If you want to get up into the keep, beware. There are 131 steps, and dire warnings of the fact. My ill-tempered knees had the habdabs at the mere prospect, so I didn’t call their bluff!!!
This article provides an interesting interpretation of magnificent windows that are to be found in various churches, including King’s College, Cambridge. Henry VI, Edward IV, Richard III, Henry VII and Henry VIII had a royal hand in these masterpieces.
Henry VII, of course, went overboard with all his heraldic symbols, and at King’s College (see illustration above) he had all the usual Tudor badges on display, to which he added the hawthorn tree in which Richard III’s crown was supposedly found. Looking at the illustration, I suppose the greenery on the left depicts said hawthorn tree. Unless the hawthorn is in the part of the window that is not shown.
While trawling around looking for information about Marshalsea courts in the time of Richard II, I came upon this WordPress blog (by Mercedes Rochelle) that covers the subject. I quote the article in full:-
“Today when we hear about the Marshalsea we think of the infamous 19th century Southwark prison with all its associated tortures. But come back with me to the 14th century and you’ll see that the word has a totally different meaning—at first, anyway. Originally, the marshalsea (not capitalized—also known as the avenary) was the largest department of the household, in charge of taking care of the horses: feeding, grooming, and stabling. At the same time, the Marshal was a great officer of the royal and noble household, who functioned as the enforcer—the policeman, if you will—and the jailer. Where the Marshalsea (capitalized) came into play was in relation to the court of the verge (or the court of the steward and Marshal of the household). The steward presided over the court of the verge and the Marshal enforced its will.
“The Marshalsea court can be traced back to the second half of Edward I’s reign; it was the legal arm of the household. In practice it tried cases involving servants of the crown, whether sinning or sinned against: theft, debts, contracts, acts against the royal dignity, and trespassing—anything short of murder. This involved activity that took place within the verge, which was a twelve mile radius from the king’s presence. If anyone refused to cooperate with the king’s servants—such as Purveyors—they could be tried at the Marshalsea court. Interfering with Purveyors was one of the bigger offenses. Their job was to gather supplies for the itinerant court, such as food, wood for heating, oats and hay for the horses, etc. and these purchases were almost always a bone of contention. They rarely paid in cash; instead, they often gave the long-suffering supplier a note to be cashed at the exchequer—when the funds were available, that is. The supplier could wait months to get paid, if he got paid at all. But if that long-suffering merchant refused to contribute, the penalty could be severe. At the same time, the steward investigated complaints of extortionate behavior by the king’s servitors, though one can only wonder how often they decided in favor of the offended party.
“Cases tried in the Marshalsea court were exempted from the common law courts; it became a separate tribunal, free from the technicalities and costs of traditional courts. Because of the itinerant nature of the king’s household, cases had to be tried quickly. Pleas of trespass and debt concerning outsiders often reverted back to the common law courts if the king moved on, taking the verge with him. Within the verge local officials were forbidden to trespass on the duties of the king’s officers; at the same time, they were found guilty of “contempt of the king” if they permitted the escape of suspected felons. There were plenty of conflicts between the local municipalities who wanted to try their own cases and who temporarily fell within the verge, and the government which didn’t always mind the boundaries.
“Needless to say, the Londoners were often within the influence of the Marshalsea since the king was frequently in or near the city. Criminals were known to have crossed the Thames to Southwark to avoid punishment, since they could not be brought before the city authorities when the Marshalsea was present. The government tried to extend the Marshalsea’s jurisdiction into the city of London, but this was violently resisted and eventually dropped. Nonetheless, many formal protests were raised in successive Parliaments well into Henry IV’s reign. In 1373 Edward III ordered a building 40 feet long and 30 feet wide to be constructed “in the high street” for his own convenience, to hold pleas, keep prisoners, and hold other king’s courts. It was one of the first of London’s symbols of oppression to suffer the wrath of the Peasant’s Revolt, though it was rebuilt the following year. The king’s sergeant-at-arms and keeper of the Marshalsea, Richard Imworth, was brutally murdered by the rebels two days after they destroyed the prison.
“As time went on, reportedly by 1430, the Marshalsea became known as a debtor’s prison, and was notorious by the 18th century, when it was rebuilt about 130 yards south of its original site. You can learn all about it from Charles Dickens whose father was imprisoned there in 1824.”
Thank you Mercedes!
Thomas Wolsey was born in Ipswich, apparently in March 1473, to Joan Daundy and Robert Wolsey, who seems to have been a butcher and may possibly have been killed at Bosworth. Opposite his birthplace, in St. Nicholas’ Street, is this seated statue (below). His local achievements include Wolsey’s Gate and, after about 475 years, the University it was designed to be part of.
After a long career as Bishop of Bath and Wells, Lincoln, Winchester, Durham and finally Cardinal Archbishop of York, Wolsey was summoned to answer charges of treason, having failed to secure an annulment for Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon. He died of a heart attack at Leicester Abbey on the penultimate day of November 1530, telling Abbot Richard Pescall: “Father abbott, I ame come hether to leave my bones among you”.
Just like Greyfriars a mile or so away, Leicester Abbey was dissolved about a decade later. Abbey Park stands on the site now and the generally designated site lies to the north, near the confluence of the Soar and the Grand Union Canal. There has been some Leicester University archaeology on the site and the Abbey plan has been marked out, including this grave marker (right).
So is it time to identify the remains of this Cardinal, just twenty years younger than Richard, to rebury them in a similar way in the same city? The church of St. Margaret is nearby.
Stony Stratford is a small place today but in the medieval era it was along one of the main routes towards London and frequently visited by passing notables. Historically, it is primarily remembered for being the spot where Richard of Gloucester and the Duke of Buckingham finally met up with Edward V…beginning the dramatic chain of events that occurred in 1483.
However, several hundred years earlier, Stony Stratford was the temporary resting place for the body of Eleanor of Castile, the wife of Edward I, who had died at Harby in Nottinghamshire. An ‘Eleanor Cross’ was set up at each place along the route taken by her funeral cortege, at Lincoln, Grantham, Stamford, Geddington, Hardingstone near Northampton, Stony Stratford, Woburn, Dunstable, St Albans, Waltham, Westcheap and Charing. Only three are extant in modern times–the crosses at Geddington, Northampton, and Lincoln, although a few fragments from several other Eleanor crosses remain in various museums across the country. Most of the monuments were destroyed during the Civil War.
Edward I was a harsh King but he did seem to love his wife, with whom he had 16 children. Eleanor herself was not a popular Queen in her lifetime but was a rich heiress in her own right and an astute businesswoman. Her reputation has improved since the 17th century. It is good to see this rather forgotten queen commemorated by this new painting in the town where one of the crosses to her memory once stood.
Northampton’s Eleanor Cross–in need of TLC
Stony Stratford’s New Mural
Steve Beer, who owns fine art gallery The Medieval Gallery in Dunster, Somerset, is set to host a major event on December 1, called ‘Picturing Richard’s World’. The event will be staged in two parts – first, the talks and displays at Dunster Tithe Barn, followed by the unveiling of the new portrait, which is by Danish artist Anne Gyrite Schütte.
There is more here, where I found the above image.
When looking into the history of Burford in Oxfordshire, I came upon this site. One wonders if the great Richard Neville, born 22nd November 1428, ever actually saw the result of his charity.
“The most conspicuous charitable act in late medieval Burford was the foundation in 1455–6 of the Great Almshouse (or Warwick Almshouses) near the church, for eight poor persons. The founder was the Burford burgess and wool merchant Henry Bishop, acting in cooperation with the earl of Warwick (who was then lord of Burford). The initiative was part of a broader trend in late medieval England, which saw endowed almshouses founded in several small towns. A 19th-century datestone gives the date 1457.”
According to the Worcestershire Branch :-
“Burford was a Warwick manor and the almshouses were built by Richard Neville in 1457. . .Two Yorkist armies met here in 1461 – one victorious at the battle of Mortimer’s Cross, led by Edward Duke of York, and one defeated at second St Albans, led by Warwick. It was probably here that they decided to march on London and declare Edward king.”
Here is an article from an American website about the “Princes” and John Ashdown-Hill’s work towards determining the identity of the bones in that urn, as detailed in his “The Mythology of the Princes in the Tower”.
The article is rather good. It does fail to notice that Westminster Abbey is a Royal peculiar and so the Anglican hierarchy has no influence. Apart from that, the dental evidence suggests that the remains are unlikely to be related to Richard III, who has been analysed in great detail.
The mitochondrial DNA, which was integral to identifying Richard himself, is possibly understated here but modern scientific analysis, on the basis of this research legacy, could lead to any of the following conclusions:
1) The remains are of the wrong age, gender, era or even species.
2) Their mtDNA does not match that of Elizabeth Wydeville.
3) The remains are of more than two people.
4) The remains are of one mtDNA matching person and one other.
5) The remains are of two people of the right age, gender, era, species and mtDNA.
Conclusion 5 would positively identify them as Edward IV’s sons. Conclusions 1 and 2 would eliminate this possibility. Conclusions 3 and 4 would be more complex as a mitochondrially identical cousin disappeared from the same place sixty years later. The probability of the remains consisting of Edward V, Richard of Shrewsbury and their later cousin is surely exceedingly low, although that cousin or one “Prince” resting with an unrelated individual is more possible.