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Did Anne of Bohemia die of leprosy…?

Anne of Bohemia's funeral procession

Anne of Bohemia’s funeral procession

Well, we are accustomed to incorrect reports about historic events, such as Richard III’s remains being tossed into the River Soar, and Henry “Tudor” being both “the Lancastrian heir” and “Earl of Richmond”. And that Richard III “poisoned” his queen, Anne Neville.

Tradition abounds with these things, but today I came upon one I hadn’t heard before: that another Queen Anne—of Bohemia—wife of another Richard—Richard II—died of leprosy. Eh? If anything it was the plague, surely? And very sudden. If Anne had leprosy I’m sure it would have been evident for some time, and certainly wouldn’t have caused sudden death. Would it?

Another suggestion is that Anne died of an ectopic pregnancy. Until recently it was generally thought that this particular royal marriage was chaste, but now a letter from Anne to her brother Wenceslaus reveals that she had just miscarried. How many miscarriages might she have had? See here. So yes, an ectopic pregnancy might indeed have been the cause of her death. Or indeed, so might anything to do with pregnancy.

But leprosy…? Somehow I think not.

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The story of Middleham Castle….

Middleham Castle

The Battle of Wakefield took place on 30th December, 1460. It ended when Richard, Duke of York, lost his life. As did his second son, Edmund, Earl of Rutland. The victors were the Lancastrians, in the name of their feeble-minded king, Henry VI.

York’s claim to the throne finally came to fruition in the forms of two of his other sons, Edward IV and the youngest, Richard III. And one of Richard’s favourite homes—if not the most favourite—was Middleham Castle in Yorkshire.

But Middleham Castle was around for a long time before Richard came along, and was still there when he had gone. To read more of its history, which includes the great Earl of Warwick, the “Kingmaker”, go here.

 

How strict was medieval royal court mourning at Christmas….?

 

Christmas garland - 1

 

Medieval Christmas

Medieval Christmas

I know I have (more than once!) written of a strange string of coincidences connecting Richards II and III and their queens, both named Anne. Now I have come upon another question that puzzles me. It is well known that Richard II loved his Anne deeply, and was distraught when she died suddenly in the summer of 1394. He and his court were plunged into mourning, he had Sheen palace razed to the ground because he could not bear to go where he and she had been so happy, etc. etc.

Richmond's Islands, 1720

Richard II and his queen had a lavish lodge, La Neyt, built on an island in the Thames at Sheen, so they could be alone together

One way Richard chose to distract himself was an expedition to Ireland, where trouble was brewing for English rule. No English monarch had been there since King John (when he was still a prince). Richard II took a huge army over, and believed himself successful in reasserting English power, as witness the illustration below, of him received homage/knighting Irish kings. At Christmas 1394, barely six months after Anne’s death, historians tells us that Richard had a whale of a time with entertainments, revels and all the usual celebrations of the period.

Henry-VIII-at-Court-at-Christmas - 2

Royal celebrations at Christmas – Henry VIII

Now, does this sound like a monarch and court in full mourning for a beloved consort? No. Was Richard II, who was a very emotional man, able to set his grief aside and order revels, both for the season and the “victory” over the troublesome Irish kings? [It wasn’t to be long after Richard’s return to England that those kings started stirring again – well, I would have too!] Or have these junketings been overstated or even falsely reported?

Dublin - Richard II knighting the Irish kings - 1394

Richard II receiving the Irish kings, 1394

Whatever, it was Christmas, and we have a King Richard, sunk in grief for his Queen Anne. I now find myself wondering what might have happened if Bosworth had gone the other way, and Richard III were still king at Christmas 1485. He was another king in deep mourning, having lost his Anne in March that same year (and his son the year before). He too would have had something to celebrate – defeating Tudor, and enjoying the Christmas season. Even if negotiations were in full swing for his remarriage, would he have thrown mourning for Anne to the winds and had a lavish old time of it? Perhaps he would think his court and the realm at large was in need of a happy time at last, and so he would set his own feelings aside? Maybe that’s what Richard II had thought before him?

©Photo. R.M.N. / R.-G. OjŽda

The giving of New Year gifts at the court of the Duc du Berri.

I’m genuinely curious about this business of kings in mourning, because Richard II made it clear he adored Anne of Bohemia, and as far as we are concerned, Richard III and Anne Neville loved each other too. Their shared agony on the sudden death of their only child, Edward of Middleham, suggests a great closeness, if nothing else. Maybe both marriages were first entered into for political reasons. Anne of Bohemia brought nothing to her marriage, except her family and connections; Anne Neville brought half the Warwick inheritance, which was nothing to sniff at. I believe that both marriages became love matches, and that whether the kings liked it or not, they were obliged to marry again as soon as possible.

Betrothal of the French Princess to Richard II

The betrothal of Isabella of Valois to Richard II.

Just over a year following Christmas 1394, Richard II married the six-year-old Isabella of Valois, daughter of the King of France. One theory for this odd choice of bride—by a childless king who was beset by uncles and cousins hungry to succeed him—is that it was a way of staying faithful to Anne for longer. Such a very young second wife would not be expected to be available for consummation before she was, at the very least, twelve.

It was still 1485 when Richard III’s envoys commenced negotiations for him to marry Joanna of Portugal, who is known to posterity as the Blessed Joanna, Princess of Portugal. She was eight months older than Richard, and in the end did not marry anyone. These 1485 negotiations were not only for Richard’s marriage, but for that of his eldest niece, Elizabeth of York, who was to marry Joanna’s cousin, who would become Manuel I.  This sounds a workmanlike arrangement, made because, as I have said, a childless king had to marry again, quickly. At least Richard III’s chosen bride would be able to provide him with heirs, unlike little Isabella of France. And he was arranging a very good marriage for his illegitimate niece.

So, just what was the protocol for this sort of thing? Did mourning mean just that, mourning? Nothing less. Or could it be dipped into and out of, as the situation dictated?

Christmas garland - 3

 

 

Christmas 1483 at the court of Richard III….

Christmas Richard

What was Christmas like for Richard III? I’m thinking particularly of 1483, his first as king. He still had both his wife and child, and the future must have looked set for a long and prosperous reign. He was only to have two Christmases as king, and by 1484 he and Anne had lost their only child, Edward, Prince of Wales. If he’d lived to Christmas 1485, he’d have lost Anne as well.

So 1483 was the happiest of his short reign. What did they do? What did they eat? What entertainments did they enjoy? How did they decorate everything? Here is an excellent Nerdalicious article that describes what might have gone on….

 

Christmas garland - 2

Anne Neville was a Tudor….?

anne neville with shocked eyes

Sooo….her guilty secret is finally revealed. According to this post , Anne Neville was a Tudor! No wonder she‘s shocked…and Richard is giving her a sideways look. Oh, dear.

The “naughty” corpse of Henry VI….

Ophelia's costume

The link below concerns an exhibition entitled ‘Costuming the Leading Ladies of Shakespeare: From Stratford to Orange County’ at UC Irvine’s Langson Library, West Peltason and Pereira drives, Irvine; www.lib.uci.edu/langson. The exhibition is there through to the end of September.

Several amusing anecdotes are described in the article, including one about Lady Anne’s apparent effect upon an on-stage corpse of her father-in-law, Henry VI!

 

Some more Despenser connections

Last year, we showed how Anne Neville (and thus Edward of Middleham) were descended from Hugh Despenser the Elder, Earl of Winchester. Having followed up Kathryn Warner’s suggestion, this file allows us to add another Queen Consort, a King, a Lord Protector and a Lord High Admiral to the list of that Earl’s descendants.
This can also be connected to our previous post about the Seymour to Culme-Seymour line (slide 5 of this document).

Even Stanley suffered because of Henry VII’s avarice….

dartford_priory_kent_1783_3610453

This concerns Dartford Manor (and then priory) in Kent (above), of which you can read more at https://www.kentarchaeology.org.uk/Research/02/DDAG/08/20.htm and http://www.akentishceremony.com/kcc-register-offices/the-manor-gatehouse/ My interest lies in the history of the manor, i.e. pre-Henry VIII.

The following, which is taken from http://www.british-history.ac.uk/survey-kent/vol2/pp2-22, seems at first not to concern Dartford Manor, but its pattern of ownership is the same, I am assured, and the next link after this, to Dartford itself, does not relate this earlier ownership in full. It is of interest to Ricardians and all Yorkists, although the former had best grit their teeth for some of what it says. Poor old Richard is maligned again. Anyway, here goes with the ownership of Dartford, albeit from the BHO Chesilhurst pages.

“…[On the death of John, Earl of Somerset, then Duke of Somerset in the reign of Henry VI] his brother Edmund, marquis of Dorset, was found to be his next heir male, and as such possessed this estate [Chesilhurst – and also Dartford]. He was afterwards advanced to the title of Duke of Somerset, and taking part with Henry VI. was slain in the first battle of St. Alban’s … the manor of Dartford, with Chesilhurst, was … granted to Richard Nevill, earl of Warwick, commonly called the King Maker, who, after many changes from one side to the other, was slain, endeavouring to replace king Henry on the throne, at the battle of Barnet, in the year 1471. By his wife, Anne, daughter of Richard Beauchamp, earl of Warwick, who survived him, he left only two daughters, who both married into the royal family; Isabel to George duke of Clarence. brother to king Edward IV. and Anne, first to Edward prince of Wales, son of king Henry VI. and, secondly, to Richard duke of Gloucester, afterwards king Richard III.

“After the earl’s death, though his estates were seized by the authority of parliament, yet great part of them were afterwards given to his two daughters, and among others the manor of Dartford, with the rents of assize in Chesilhurst, was given to Isabel, whose husband, George duke of Clarence, in her right, became possessed of them. After which the duke falling under the suspicion of the king, his brother, was in parliament, anno 1477, attainted, being then a prisoner in the tower, and was soon afterwards, with the king’s consent, drowned in a butt of malmsey, the duke of Gloucester assisting with his own hands By Isabel his wife, who died of poison sometime before him, he had issue Edward earl of Warwick, then an infant, who never enjoyed any part of his patrimony.

“Soon after the duke’s death, this manor being in the king’s hands, by reason of his son’s nonage, was granted to Thomas lord Stanley for life, and although king Henry VII. in his third year, being desirous of securing to himself the possessions which the great earl of Warwick died possessed of, recalled the old countess of Warwick from her retirement in the north, where she lived in a distressed and mean condition, both her daughters being dead, and by a new act, annulling the former, restored to her all her late husband’s possessions, with power for her to alien any part of them, not with the intent that she should enjoy them, but merely that she might transfer them to the king, which she did that year, by a special seossment and a fine, by which she granted the whole, consisting of one hundred and fourteen manors, among which was that of Dartford, with the rents of assize in Chesilhurst, to the king and his heirs male, with remainder to herself and her heirs for ever. Yet this estate continued in possession of the lord Stanley. . .”

Right, did you get all that? Now let us go to http://www.british-history.ac.uk/survey-kent/vol2/pp286-328, to find that Dartford may not quite have followed the same line as Chesilhurst.

“….manor [of Dartford] went in the same succession of ownership as that of Chesilhurst, which was a member of it, as has been already fully described before, and to which the reader is referred (excepting that king Richard III. in his first year, granted the reversion of it, being then in the possession of the lord Stanley, to John Brooke, lord Cobham, to hold by knights service; (Harleian MSS. No. 433–764. Dugd. Bar. vol. ii. p. 282.) but he [Cobham] never came to the possession of it, for king Henry VII. on his obtaining the crown, secured this reversion of it to himself….” 

Aha! Henry strikes again, keeping this reversion for himself instead of returning it to his father-in-law, Stanley. Wouldn’t you think he’d undo Richard’s work by rendering unto Stanley the things that were Stanley’s? And Stanley’s heirs?. But oh, no, we know Henry too well, do we not? If he could claw something close unto to his bony Tudor chest, he would! And, in this case, did. Look after the pennies, and the pounds look after themselves, right, Henry? Not that I care if Stanley was deprived of anything, you understand.

Dartford Manor HouseArtist’s impression of Henry VIII’s manor

Read more about the manor at https://www.kentarchaeology.org.uk/Research/02/DDAG/08/20.htm and http://www.akentishceremony.com/kcc-register-offices/the-manor-gatehouse/ Unfortunately, the illustrations are of the buildings from the Henry VIII period, and do not show anything of what would have been there in Richard’s time.

 

Seeking the Real Duke of Clarence

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about Richard III’s brother, George of Clarence. You know the one–typical ‘middle child’, ‘false fleeting Clarence’, the one drowned in Malmsey who was also a drunk and quite possibly insane, hanging, as he did,  old ladies on the vaguest of suspicions.

And I began considering–is George, like Richard, maligned, doomed forever to be hidden in an obscuring web of myth and invention?

Certainly he was disloyal, joining Warwick against his own brother, Edward IV. He created a fuss when Richard wanted to marry Anne Neville, his protests lasting several years. He did indeed accuse Ankaret Twynho, and others, of poisoning his wife and baby son–and hanged the old lady after a brief and decidedly unfair trial.

But mad? A drunk? And in regards to his wife and child…what if he were right?

Like Richard’s supposed hump, limp, withered arm and other defects, George’s ‘insanity’ and ‘drunkenness’ appear to have been exaggerated if not completely  invented,  mainly in fiction. (And yes, I admit I am guilty of adding to this stereotype myself.) There is no mention in primary sources of George drinking or being dissolute; that idea seems to have come solely from his supposed death in a vat of malmsey, and the questions it raised (ie. Did Edward have him drowned in booze because he liked a tipple and maybe even requested such an end as a macabre  final joke?) Fickleness aplenty went on, certainly, and his last acts with the Twynyho affair were erratic, but he wasn’t spouting gibberish, having hallucinations, or lying catatonic like poor old Henry VI. He defended himself  in regards to the charges laid against him by the King, and apparently one of Elizabeth Woodville’s main fears was that people would follow him and her children would never inherit the throne. The people of England were hardly likely to follow another mad king. This implies to me that George was not generally seen as a loony, treacherous lush, but someone who might have had some decent enough qualities, or at very least some kind of strong charisma.

So that brings us back to the whole mystery surrounding the death of George’s wife, Isabel Neville, and his infant son Richard of York. Many have claimed Isabel died of childbirth-related illness…but she actually succumbed two and a half months after the birth. Childbed fever, the biggest killer of women in her day, normally took its victims far sooner. TB has also been suggested, and it is certainly not impossible, for in some victims TB symptoms can appear with frightening suddenness and ‘gallop’ on to their bitter end, but there is no written evidence of her having such symptoms. In the interim between childbed and her death, she travelled from Tewkesbury to Warwick, which implies she was not grievously ill at that point.  The baby too was alive and outlived its mother by about 10 days. So both mother and  child lived more than two months after the birth and made a moderately long journey without incident before their deaths.

Ankaret Twynyho (nee Hawkeston) herself is also the subject of some myth-making. In fiction she is often portrayed as a simple ordinary local woman, perhaps the midwife who delivered Isabel’s baby. However, she was not a peasant woman, nor is their any evidence she was Isabel’s midwife. It is merely known the she ‘served’ in the Clarence household. She did leave George’s service rather quickly after Isabel’s demise however, going to her home in Keyford, Somerset in the days before George accused her of murder.

Of John Thursby, who was hanged alongside her, little is known, save that he was from Warwick and said to be her accomplice. The third person who was accused,  managed (somehow and rather oddly) to escape any consequences, and is, interestingly, the one who George claimed to be the ‘mastermind’ behind the supposed poisoning. Strangely he is seldom mentioned in regards to the incident–and my feeling is his possible involvement needs to be re-assessed.

This suspect was Sir Roger Tocotes  of Bromham, long time associate of George of Clarence. (Michael Hicks went so far as to suggest George might even have called him ‘friend.’) He had supported the House of York and fought at Towton, Barnet and Tewkesbury (where he may have been knighted). He even accompanied George on Edward IV’s ill-fated ‘invasion’ of France.

Why would George think this seemingly loyal supporter masterminded his wife and child’s death? What would be Tocote’s reason? What evidence existed at the time that made George believe him involved? Some writers say Tocotes ‘escaped’ George’s vengeance, others that he received an aquittal (from the king?) despite being the prime accused in  Isabel’s ‘murder.’

Later, long after George’s death,  Roger Tocotes would go on to be one of the Duke of Buckingham’s supporters  in the October rebellion of 1483. (Richard pardoned him.)  He then fought for Henry Tudor at Bosworth and did rather well for himself under the Tudor regime, becoming Sheriff of Wiltshire for a second time and also a Knight of the Body. He is buried in a very lavish chantry chapel in the parish church in Bromham, Wiltshire.

Could Roger Tocotes have indeed been a  turncoat who went from friend to traitor and tried to  bring Clarence and his family down? If so, who was behind it, what was the reason? After Isabel’s death, George was apparently afraid of being poisoned himself and blamed the King, his brother. He claimed Edward meant to ‘consume him in likewise as a candle is consumed by burning’. George’s seemingly wild claims have led  over the years to a probably false view of him as being paranoid and mentally unstable. There is always a chance that he may have been genuinely afraid, not crazy–and that he may have truly had something to fear.

Maybe Roger Tocotes, lying in his graffiti-covered tomb in Bromham church, took a dark and unhappy secret to the grave.

 

georgeP1220521

 

 

Look who’s coming to dinner….

Nicola Tallis

Nicola Tallis

The following is taken from this interview in History Extra

“Q: Which three historical figures would you invite to a dinner party and why?

  1. “Queen Anne Neville. Frustratingly little is known of her life. I’d love to know if Anne was happily married to Richard III and how she felt about the events of 1483, when King Edward IV unexpectedly died and Richard declared himself king of England.
  2. “King Louis XIV of France. He has always fascinated me, and even more so since watching the TV series Versailles! All of the intrigues of the French court and Louis’s various mistresses enthrall me. Plus, I have always wanted to ask him what inspired him when creating the Chateau de Versailles.
  3. “Anne Frank. Her story is such a sad one, and to have the opportunity to speak to her about her experiences in hiding during the Second World War would be very moving.”

I don’t know that I would wish such a small dinner party to be a ‘moving experience’, so maybe Anne Frank would not be on my list, but then, is not Anne Neville’s story a moving one as well? So, this dinner party is going to be a quiet affair, I think, unless Louis XIV runs riot.

What Richard’s queen might have to say is bound to be of intense interest to Ricardians, of course. I hope that she would recall the wonderful days before 1483 spoiled everything for her and for Richard. And please do not think I brush Anne Frank aside, because I certainly do not. I would just hope to find she still had a lighter side, a trace of her original self, undamaged by her dreadful experiences. Maybe she would rather seek her lost, happier self, too.

Anyway, the above guest list has been compiled by historian Nicola Tallis, in an interview connected with her appearance at the York and Winchester History Weekends this October. See the above link for more details. Ms Tallis appears to be mainly interested in the Tudor queens and period, so perhaps it is strange that she would not invite, say, Elizabeth I, to dinner!

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