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Prince Henry Stuart – the best king we never had….?

Henry, Prince of Wales 1594-1612

Henry, Prince of Wales 1594-1612

 

I have just watched a documentary (called The Best King We Never Had and presented by Paul Murton) about Prince Henry, the firstborn son of King James VI of Scotland, James I of England. James, the son of Mary, Queen of Scots, was already King of Scotland, when he succeeded Elizabeth I, and became the first King of a United Kingdom. He was a Protestant, as was his dazzling son, Henry, who was destined to succeed him.

At birth, or a very short while after, Henry had been taken from his mother, Queen Anne of Denmark. She was anguished by this, and it would be ten years before she saw him again for any length of time. Like his father before him, Henry was given into the care of John Erskine, Earl of Mar, keeper of Stirling. This enforced parting caused great rift between the king and queen. The reunion was to take place when James became Elizabeth’s heir, and the journey south to London was undertaken.

It was a time of religious strife, Protestants versus Catholics versus Puritans, and would include the great Gunpowder Plot that aimed to blow-up James and his Parliament. James was a Protestant, as was his son. Henry grew up a sophisticated, popular and talented young Renaissance prince, and the future boded well that he would be a good and effective king. But death was to claim him at the age of only eighteen, when he was taken by typhoid after swimming in the Thames in winter. Which meant that the succession passed to his younger brother, Charles, who was to be beheaded. But that is another story.

The loss of Prince Henry reminds me of the earlier loss of Prince Arthur, firstborn son of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York. What might these two princes have brought to their kingdom? Their departure from life meant their brothers inherited the crown instead. Henry VIII and Charles I were to prove awful in one way or another. (My personal opinion, I admit, and not necessarily yours as well.)

The documentary imparts a great deal of background information, among which is the wearing of 17th-century armour and fighting on foot. Paul Murton, the presenter, is got up in this armour to fight with an expert from the Royal Armouries. It was fascinating, and the thing that stood out for me was that afterward, Murton couldn’t wait for the helmet to be removed because it was so claustrophobic, Then he said more than once that the experience of wearing it and then fighting had made his ears ring.

This excellent programme was first shown on 30th November 2017, and is available on BBC iPlayer for fifteen days from the day of writing this, i.e. Boxing Day 2017. I don’t know if it can be seen anywhere else.

 

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A Grey Day

The Grey family, originally from Northumberland, are a consistent feature of English history from the Southampton plot of 1415 to Monmouth’s rebellion nearly three centuries later.

Sir Thomas Grey (1384-1415) of Castle Heaton was a soldier and one of the three principals in the Southampton plot against Henry V, revealed to him by Edmund Mortimer, 5th Earl of March, at Portchester Castle. His connection to the House of York was that a marriage had been arranged between his son and Isabel, the (very) young daughter of Richard of Conisbrough, Earl of Cambridge. The betrothal was cancelled as one of the consequences of the plot’s failure. It may have been related to Grey’s purchase of the Yorkist lordship of Tyndale. (The sale of which demonstrates how relatively hard-up the second Duke of York was at this time.)

Sir John Grey of Groby (1432-61) was the son of Edward Grey, Baron Ferrers of Groby and a grandson of the third Baron Grey of Ruthin . Married to Elizabeth Wydeville, by whom he had two sons, he fought for Henry VI at the Second Battle of St. Albans and was killed there.

 

Lady Jane Grey (1537-54) was the daughter of Henry Grey, who had become Duke of Suffolk on his marriage to Frances Brandon, Henry being Sir John’s

great-grandson. Edward VI had named Jane as his heir and her father, together with John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland and Archbishop Cranmer sought to implement this on  Edward’s 1553 death, contrary to Henry VIII’s succession legislation. She married Northumberland’s son Lord Guildford Dudley and planned to create him Duke of Clarence but their coup was thwarted and the principals imprisoned. Wyatt rose in early 1554, apparently in favour of the Grey-Dudley faction, so Jane, her husband, father and father-in-law were beheaded close to the St. Albans anniversary. This “Streatham portrait” is possibly a retrospective of Jane, having been painted years after her death. She was also the great-niece of Viscount Grane, formerly Deputy of Ireland, who was beheaded in July 1541.

Ford Grey, Earl of Tankerville (1655-1701) was also Viscount Glendale and Baron Grey of Werke. As a veteran of the Rye House Plot, he escaped from the Tower and joined the Duke of Monmouth in exile before joining the Duke’s rebellion two years later. At Sedgemoor, he led the rebel cavalry but was captured, whereupon he gave evidence against his co-commanders and his attainder was reversed in 1686. Within another nine years, he was appointed to William III’s Privy Council and served in several other offices.

This genealogy connects Sir Thomas to Henry Grey Duke of Suffolk, Lady Jane Grey’s father, through his Mowbray brother-in-law. This shows Tankerville’s male line descent from Sir Thomas’ grandfather.

Who’s buried where in Westminster Abbey….

Plan of Henry VII's Chapel, Westminster Abbey

 

Well, if you have the stamina, here’s a link that will tell you all about who’s buried where in Westminster Abbey. Including, of course, that urn, which a later dynasty decided should be in Henry VII’s chapel. Hmm. Wouldn’t you think it should have been at Windsor, alongside the boy’s father, Edward IV? But then, that wouldn’t suit the Tudor propaganda, which the Stuarts were clearly keen to perpetuate.

I have now acquired a copy of Memorials of Westminster Abbey by Dean Stanley, published by John Murray, which is filled to the brim with detailed information, dates, people and events in the abbey. A wonderful book, if a little disapproving and traditionalist about Richard III. Still, the rest of the book makes up for this failing! Well, just about.

This link should perhaps be read in conjunction with this and this by sparkypus.

 

A Weir(d) Myth-take: The Legend of Joan of York

After the time of long barrenness,

God first send Anne, which signifyth grace,

In token that at her heart’s heaviness,

He as for barrenness would from them chase.

Harry, Edward, Edmund, each in his place

Succeeded; and after twain daughter came

Elizabeth and Margaret, and afterwards William.

John after William next born was,

Which both be passed to God’s grace:

George was next, and after Thomas.

Born was, which son after did pace.

By the path of death into the heavenly place

Richard liveth yet; but the last of all

Was Ursula, to Him who God’s list call.

Above is the section of the famous Clare Roll where the children of Richard Duke of York and his wife Cecily Neville are all, quite clearly, listed.

 However, you could be forgiven in thinking that there was another York child who mysteriously got left off the list—a daughter called Joan. The eldest daughter of the Duke and his wife, no less.

A number of sites on the internet, both informational and genealogical,  firmly state Joan of York was Richard and Cecily’s firstborn child, a short-lived daughter named after her maternal grandmother, Joan Beaufort. Several books have appeared that mention Joan, mostly notably one by Alison Weir and a later one by Amy Licence. A birthdate of 1438 has appeared for the mysterious Joan, and York was posited as her birthplace.

 So what is the truth about this putative daughter? The truth is, it would seem—Joan of York never existed, and not only that, her ‘birth’ only took  place in the later 20th c!

The first mention of her was in Weir’s book Britain’s Royal Families: The Complete Genealogy. Now Alison Weir is a hugely well-known popular ‘historian’ and many of her acolytes believe her research is impeccable, and henceforth the misinformation about Joan passed, without being questioned,  into general ‘knowledge’ and remained undisputed for a considerable amount of time.

 Apparently, the unfortunate error occurred when erroneous information was gleaned from a 1960’s geneaology chart. I am quite stunned the author used the reference without any additional verification, since it is well-known that some compilers of family trees frequently hove in ‘ancestors’ such as King Arthur , Ivar the Boneless, Jabba the Hutt and any other number of unlikely figures. (In fairness to Alison Weir, she has now admitted that Joan’s existence is doubtful and will be removing her from future editions of the book. Whether Ms Licence will also remove references to Joan from her works is at present unknown.)

 It is quite mystifying why anyone would doubt the veracity of the  Clare Rolls (or the other medieval documents that published a similar list) especially when it was specifically stated that Anne was the first child, born after ‘long barrenness’, and all the other  short-lived York children such as Henry  and Thomas were accounted for.

 What is striking and of interest to me in particular is how such errors can be quickly accepted as canon without question. At least the odd myth that Richard III had seven, yes, seven, bastards, (also, I believe, included in an edition of Alison Weir’s Complete Genealogy book) including Tudor poet Stephen Hawes, whose only connection with Richard seems to be in a vintage novel, never seemed to gain much if any credence. (Richard surely has enough myth and rumour surrounding him without adding additional dubious stories.)

 So hopefully Joan of York, the girl who never existed, will finally be laid to rest, alongside many of the other myths  that have attached themselves to Richard and his family over the years…

 

mythnot-for-babies

The wrong Philippa for Reading….!

Gardening MOR 050415

Reading in Berkshire is apparently famous for, among other things, five varieties of potato. Nine other items for which Reading is renowned are listed here, and I presume that eight of them are correct. But the last one definitely is NOT! I quote:

“Philippa Gregory, the woman who found the body of Richard III under a car park in Leicester, believes the grave of Henry I is also under a car park in Reading.”

Um, Philippa Who? Rather a boo-boo, methinks.

PS: The error has now been corrected, but I promise that the wrong Philippa was indeed there originally!

A MAN WHO WOULD BE KING: THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM AND RICHARD III

The Duke of Buckingham is rather a ‘dark horse’ figure in the history of Richard III. No one knows for sure why he  aided Richard to take the throne only to turn upon him in rebellion a few months later. Simplistic ideas such as ‘he repented of his ways after the princes were murdered’ don’t stand scrutiny, especially when he was the first one to suggest that Edward V be housed in the Tower, and also  when the number of documents naming him as their potential killer (if indeed they were killed at all) is taken into account. Whatever happened to Edward IV’s sons, no doubt Buckingham knew…

A MAN WHO WOULD BE KING by J.P. Reedman  is a new novel written from Buckingham’s first person perspective. He is certainly no ‘hero’ and the character flaws that appear even in cotemporary accounts are visible, but the addition of wry humour makes the character palatable to the reader, even amusing in his pomposity. His life is covered from his birth at Abergavenny Castle in Wales to his death on the scaffold in Salisbury. Essentially it shows what must have been the life of many a young noble in this period–a childhood full of deaths and seperations and disappointment–which was later reflected in his emerging character.

The ancestry and background of the Staffords was heavily researched for the novel too, and it becomes very clear how ‘Lancastrian’ they were. Not only did Buckingham’s grandfather die attempting to protect Henry VI in his tent as the Battle of Northampton, but his mother was Margaret Beaufort, daughter of Edmund Duke of Somerset who was killed at St Albans. The other Margaret Beaufort, Henry Tudor’s mother, was Buckingham’s aunt by marriage. Several other uncles on the Beaufort side lost their lives at Tewkesbury, fighting for Lancaster.

Henry, called Harry in the novel, is intensely proud of his heritage, harkening back tiomes and time against to his ancestry from Thomas of Woodstock, youngest son of Edward III–who seems, from the descriptions to be similar in temperament to Buckingham, being named in one popular history as the ‘Bully of Woodstock.’  Buckingham also had a copy of the document legitimising the Beauforts–only it was the early document without the addenda barring them from the throne. Between owning that and applying to wear the Arms of Thomas of Woodstock unquartered, it seemed Harry Stafford was very aware of his royal lineage. (This awareness and the classic ‘Stafford personality’ brought his son Edward to doom in the reign of Henry VIII.)

In the novel, Harry meets Richard  intermittently over the years (I have come to believe they knew each other more than what is sometimes suggested by both fiction and some historians, although they do not appear to have been close friends) and attempts from the start to use him to gain favour with Edward, who never gave Buckingham any high positions save one–High Steward at George of Clarence’s trial. He begins a subtle manipulation, which changes entirely in its focus when Edward dies suddenly in 1483.

 

 

 

St Edmund, the king under a tennis court…?

King Edmund

A wall painting at St Mary the Virgin church in Lakenheath which depicts King Edmund

“November 20 is St Edmund’s Day, the feast day of the ‘last king of East Anglia’ and – some would say – England’s proper patron saint. But where do his bones lie? Trevor Heaton explores the twists and turns of a centuries-old mystery…” Is he under a tennis court? Read on for another take on Edmund the Martyr, who was almost certainly not a Wuffing.

 

Is this the face of Lady Anne Mowbray….?

Anne Mowbray

Here is what little Lady Anne Mowbray may have looked like. She was the child bride of one of the so-called Princes in the Tower, the younger one, Richard, Duke of York. Her burial was recently extensively covered by sparkypus here. Now The Times has come up with an article about the reconstruction of this little girl’s face. Here is the article in full, for those who need to see past the paywall – note that it does not mention John Ashdown-Hill, whose research this is. His latest Lady Eleanor article is on pp.35-7 of the current Bulletin and Bruce Watson’s on pp.37-8.

“The face of a Plantagenet princess has been reconstructed from her skeleton, while her bones and hair have yielded data on her stature and health at the time of her death in 1481. The remains of Lady Anne Mowbray also have the potential to illuminate one of English history’s greatest mysteries: the fate of the Princes in the Tower.

“Lady Anne was the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk, his only child and, after his death in 1476, the greatest heiress in England. Edward IV got papal leave to have her married to his younger son, Richard, Duke of York, in 1478, although she was related to the Plantagenets and both were legally too young to marry.

“However, Anne died before her ninth birthday, leaving Richard a widower at the age of eight. Interred in Westminster Abbey, she was later ejected by Henry VII in 1502 when he built his own mortuary chapel at the eastern end.

“Her coffin was then reburied in St Clare’s Abbey near Aldgate, the home of her mother, the dowager duchess of Norfolk.

“In 1964 a digging machine uncovered her vault while clearing wartime bomb damage, as Bruce Watson reports in Transactions of the London and Middlesex Archaeological Society.

“Dr Francis Celoria of the London Museum (now the Museum of London) realised from the finely engraved plate on the lead coffin who was inside it and set up a multidisciplinary scientific investigation to study her remains.

“A fuss in parliament and in the press about the failure to obtain a burial licence curtailed the study, and its results have never been fully published. They do, however, show that she was about 4ft 4in tall — small for a modern child of nine, but the norm until the late 19th century due to deficiencies in diet.

Lady Anne Mowbray

“Her hair had high levels of arsenic and antimony, perhaps from her medicines, and she seems to have suffered from ill-health. When her body was prepared for burial her shroud appears to have been treated with beeswax and decorated with gold leaf or thread, and a separate cloth covered her face.

” “Individuals like Anne who are precisely dated are vital, so her remains are of international importance. A recent survey of more than 4,600 juvenile burials from 95 British medieval and early post-medieval sites included no named individuals”, so their precise dates of birth and death could not be ascertained, Mr Watson notes.

“Of more general interest was a congenital dental anomaly — missing upper and lower permanent second molars on the left side — that Lady Anne shared with the two juvenile skeletons found in the Tower of London in 1674, assumed to be those of her husband, Richard Duke of York, and his brother, King Edward V (the Princes in the Tower). The bones, which are interred in a splendid marble urn in Westminster Abbey, have not been examined since 1933, but reanalysis of photographs has suggested that the two juveniles were 13½-14½ and 11½-12½ years old when they died.

“If they were indeed the bones of Edward V and his brother, then the overlapping spans show that they could have died in 1484, pinning the blame on their uncle, King Richard III (The Times, May 21, 1987). A slightly later date in the reign of Henry VII is also possible, Mr Watson says, but “the debate over the identity of these undated juveniles will continue until their remains are re-examined. They could be radiocarbon dated and DNA extracted to confirm if they are related to each other and to Richard III.”

“Since Richard’s skeleton was discovered five years ago and intensively studied before his reburial in 2015, his DNA is available and a link through the male Plantagenet line could be established, Mr Watson notes.

Despite many suggestions in recent decades that the putative remains of the Princes in the Tower should be subjected to the minimal sampling needed using modern technology, the authorities at Westminster Abbey (a “Royal Peculiar” outside the Church of England’s control) have resisted.

” “It is extremely rare for the remains of named pre-Reformation individuals to be studied in England,” Mr Watson says. Richard III’s rapid interment without perhaps even a shroud was “completely untypical and can be attributed to the unexpected manner of his death”. Anne Mowbray’s burial was that of an aristocrat with royal links and “undoubtedly of value to our understanding of death and burial during the late 15th century”. The new reconstruction shows us how her princely bridegroom may have seen her. ”

 

When, exactly, was Elizabeth of Lancaster’s first marriage dissolved….?

Elizabeth of Lancaster

A source at the National Archives says that John of Gaunt’s daughter Elizabeth was married to the boy, John Hastings, Earl of Pembroke, on 24th January 1380. She was about 17, he was about 8. She then “disagreed” with the marriage, because of her husband’s youth and inability to consummate the marriage, and the source says that the marriage was dissolved on 24th February 1383. A very specific date.

The source was The Account Rolls of the Household of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster (1340-1399) ([These] were found acting as backing to the Waleys Cartulary [MS. GLY/1139] when this was repaired. They consist of items from various classes of household accounts and were placed haphazardly when employed as backing. Each roll of the cartulary had ten membranes, which were heavily mutilated in their secondary function.):-

http://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/c36349b9-701c-4cb2-94b3-96329c78ebed (4) Mon. 1-31 [July 1381]. Roll A.7. This “Mentions the Countess of Pembroke. Lancaster’s daughter Elizabeth married John, Earl of Pembroke, on 24 Jan. 1380 and the marriage was dissolved on 24 Feb. 1383.”

John Hastings, Third Earl of Pembroke 

However, on 24th September that same year, 1383, she was still terming herself Countess of Pembroke:

Proof of EofL's continuing use of Pembroke title

So, would she still do this even though the marriage had been ended? In other words, would she remain Countess of Pembroke until she remarried? Or, were proceedings to disagree with and dissolve the marriage commenced in the February of 1383, but not finalised until after the September?

There is a LOT of confusion about the ending of Elizabeth of Lancaster’s first marriage, with talk of passionate seduction, pregnancy, and a shotgun wedding to swiftly hitch her to her seducer. This was Sir John Holand, Richard II’s colourful half-brother, the future Earl of Huntingdon and Duke of Exeter; a man to whom Lady Caroline Lamb’s opinion of Lord Byron could be applied, i.e. that he was “mad, bad and dangerous to know”. He was flambuoyant, passionate and capable of cold-blooded killing, but he was also devastatingly charming. This second marriage took place in Plymouth on 24th July 1386. (24th again?)

JH - WordPress

Sir John Holand being led into tournament

 

It’s always claimed that the annulment of her first marriage had to take place hastily so that she could marry the father of her unborn child. But the dates above suggest she was no longer married to Pembroke when she was seduced by Holand, who was fervently in love with her. And, presumably, she with him.

How did this widespread story of marital infidelity and hasty remarriage come about? Because she was still called the Countess of Pembroke, and assumptions were made that she was still married to Pembroke? Or because the sources I have quoted above are wrong? Should I ignore the dates that contradict the salacious traditional tale of adultery and a “shotgun wedding”?

Being a Ricardian, I am always mistrustful of “traditional” tales….

PS: There is also a very strong suggestion that Sir John Holand was the father of Richard of Conisbrough. father of Richard, 3rd Duke of York…and thus the grandfather of Edward IV and Richard III. Sir John is believed to have had an affair with Richard of Conisbrough’s mother, Isabella, Duchess of York, wife of Edmund of Langley. No one knows for sure, of course, but Edmund of Langley left Richard of Conisbrough out of his will, and it was down to Isabella to do all she could to protect her son. It does indeed smack of Richard of Conisbrough not being York’s offspring. Good Sir John Holand certainly seems to have left his mark on history!

He was reputedly very tall and handsome…might this be why Edward IV was too? Just a thought.

 

 

Some Interesting Thoughts on the Broom

I have previously posted about the Broom plant (called, in Latin, planta genista from where the Plantagenets took their name). I have recently come across this post which explores the healing powers of the Broom as well as its meaning in the Celtic Ogham.

Broom plant

 

 

 

Image credit: By Javier martin (Own work) [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

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