Here is the second in my series of Top 10’s. This one is focussing on Dominic Mancini’s account of the events of 1483. It’s a hugely problematical source, both in terms of Mancini himself, who spoke no English, had no grasp of English politics and very limited sources, and in terms of the current translation in use which often chooses weighted words to make Mancini’s account darker.
It’s a negative source, without a doubt, written for a French audience hostile to England and Richard III and gripped by their own minority succession crisis, but it’s also misused and misunderstood. Mancini explains that he has had his arm twisted by Angelo Cato to write the account, which he had not wished to commit to paper. Cato worked at the French court, so had his own agenda is seeking to make Richard and his England seem like a land of murderous monsters.
More than this, Mancini admits, when complaining about being brow beaten into writing his account, that he knows almost nothing for certain. He wrote ‘I indeed decided that I ought not to expatiate so freely in writing as in talking, for, although on your account I did not shrink from pains, yet I had not sufficiently ascertained the names of those to be described, the intervals of time, and the secret designs of men in this whole affair.’ He adds ‘Wherefore you should not expect from me the names of individual men and places, nor that this account should be complete in all details; rather shall it resemble the effigy of a man, which lacks some of the limbs, and yet a beholder delineates for himself a man’s form.’
If Mancini had visited Torquay in the 1970’s, he might have given Manuel a run for his money.
Well, once again we have the painting of the two Princes in the Tower by Sir John Everett Millais. They look like frightened little angels, which, of course, is the traditional view of them. Nasty Uncle Richard, etc. etc. But it has never been proved that Richard did anything to them. He might even have had them taken away to safety. We will never know, and neither, it seems, did Henry VII, whose reign was blighted by fears of the return of one or both of them. And, of course, Yorkists claimants to his stolen throne did indeed turn up to make his usurper’s life difficult. The most important of these was “Perkin Warbeck”, who may or may not have been Prince Richard of York, as Ashdown-Hill’s research may answer for us soon.
Anyway, the paragraphs below are the relevant section of this article, in which Perkin is labelled as a ‘brass-necked imposter’, along with four other similar, um, frauds. Whether Perkin was an imposter or brass-necked is, as ever, in the eye of the beholder.
“….One of London’s earliest imposters emerged from the confusion surrounding what would become one of the city’s most enduring mysteries. Uncertainty has always existed over the fate of King Edward IV’s sons Edward and Richard, or the ‘Princes in the Tower’. They’d been next in line to the throne until their uncle, Richard III, declared them illegitimate and made himself king instead.
“….The boys had been living in the Tower of London but were never seen again after the summer of 1483, and it was often speculated that they had been murdered at Richard’s instructions. However, some believed it was plausible that one or both had escaped and gone into hiding elsewhere, and several years later, one person sought to capitalise on the belief in the possibility of a secret royal survivor.
“….A man named Perkin Warbeck emerged in 1490 (sic), claiming to be the younger son, Richard, and that his brother had been murdered, forcing him to go undercover for his own safety. Warbeck made a claim to the English throne and managed to convince some members of European royalty of his identity, including the future Holy Roman Emperor, Maximilian I. However, his various armed attempts to progress his claim in England did not meet with success, and he was eventually captured and handed over to Henry VII in 1497.
“….Ironically, he was imprisoned in the Tower of London itself, only being released when he confessed he was not actually one of the Princes in the Tower after all. While he was still allowed to attend the royal court, he remained under guard, which led him to make a number of escape attempts. He was eventually recaptured and locked up in the Tower again, before being executed at Tyburn in 1499….”
Following an unsuccesful Viking raid in 924, the battle of Maldon took place in August 991 and the result was a victory for the Norse invaders. Byrthnoth, the Essex earldorman who led the Saxons that day, was among those killed and Ethelred II instituted payment of the “Danegeld” to pacify the Vikings. This Byrthnoth statue (left), consequently, is displayed and a tapestry marking the millennium is part of the Maeldune Centre, to which we shall return.
Just over a mile from the town centre is Beeleigh Abbey, where Isabel Countess of Essex (Richard’s aunt) was buried, together with her Bourchier husband and son, before they were moved to Little Easton by her grandson, then Earl of Essex, at the time of the Dissolution, as were the Mowbrays and Howards in Thetford. The Abbey is closed nowadays, although it can be viewed from the gardens, which remain open.
This Essex town, by the Blackwater Estuary and the narrower River Chelmer, lies about six miles from Witham and was previously accessible from there by train. This plaque (left) by the Moot Hall details the more recent historic buildings, many of them on the High Street. The Rose and Crown (bottom) is one of these, down the hill and still in operation as an inn today.
The Maeldune Centre itself lies at the Market Hill junction, by Coes. Across the road is a long redundant church (St. Peter’s), which was adapted by the Maldon-born Thomas Plume (1630-1704), Vicar of Greenwich and Archdeacon of Rochester, to place Maldon Grammar School on the ground floor and his extraordinary private library (below left) on the first. The school has moved on but the Plume Library, funded by the income from nearby farmland, still stands.
Here, in a structure open only eight hours a week and accessible by a spiral staircase, the books are arranged by size and are not lent but have been stored since Plume’s time and a modern volume is very occasionally added. The collection relates to Plume’s interests in theology, history, science and philosophy, as well as the Civil War that plagued his youth. Some of the leather spines on the books are disintegrating although the pages themselves are in good condition.
Plume’s collection also includes a notable range of portraits, including all the monarchs of his lifetime and others from Edward IV, but excluding Edward V, the first two “Tudors” and Jane. The portraits include other clerics, including an “unknown divine”, whilst that of Charles I was made before his beard made an appearance. Groups can visit only by appointment and the total capacity is limited to twelve, including the staff.
So, to view a good portrait of Richard III and the former burial place of his Bourchier relatives, as well as some other history, Maldon is certainly worth a day out. All Saints, the contemporary civic church, houses the remains of George Washington‘s great-grandfather.
Not content with accusing Richard III of the death of nearly every notable in 15th century England, it seems of late there has been more ‘confusion in Cairo’ as the the traditionalists attempt to drag in Richard’s friends and relatives in order to back up their position. Recently, the loyal John Howard, Duke of Norfolk, and even Richard’s mother, Cecily Neville the Duchess of York have been thrust into the fray. Heavens, there was even a recent ‘history magazine’ feature on ‘the Princes’ with interior artwork of not only a shifty, lank-tressed Richard, but a scowling, gimlet-eyed John Howard with a villainous moustache just ripe to be twirled!
This article put Howard forward as a potential suspect in the ‘murder’ of the Princes. It is interesting that he was never considered a ‘suspect’ in any of the early accounts but he seems to have become one in the last few years. According to some, it is ‘proof’ that the ‘Princes’ were dead when John Howard was made Duke of Norfolk in 1483, since the title was held by the younger Prince through his marriage to the late Anne Mowbray. This seems a case of ‘two plus two equals five’. Young Richard of Shrewsbury had his titles forfeited due to being declared illegitimate; therefore, it is hardly unexpected that John Howard, who had unfairly lost his rightful inheritance due to Edward IV tinkering with the law to benefit himself, would be rewarded by Richard for his support by receiving the Dukedom back. That this happened in 1483 does not in any way ‘prove’ that Richard of Shrewsbury was already deceased; simply he was no longer eligible to hold the title.
Then there’s been much ado about Cecily Neville, Richard’s mother, perhaps because in modern times there has been attempts to emphasise—and sometimes over-emphasise—the behind-the-scenes roles of medieval women. She was undoubtedly a powerful and sometimes outspoken woman, but that does not make her some kind of ‘Lady MacBeth.’ Apparently, we are told, she supported George for King in 1469 because her eldest son was indeed a bastard and not fit to hold the throne. Again, this makes little sense. If there was any truth in the rumours about Edward’s parentage, why was his kingship suddenly a problem in 1469 and not when he first became King in 1461? Yes, Cecily supposedly cried out that he was no true son and she would publicly swear to it, when she found out about his ill-thought out “marriage” to Elizabeth Woodville…but if she truly declared such a thing, she never mentioned it in public again and (according to traditionalist accounts) was most ‘put out’ by the rumours of Edward’s illegitimacy being resurrected around the time Richard became King. Like so many denialist accounts, the stories conflict—she’s hardly likely to have admitted an adulterous sin then act as if she was shocked and affronted that it was repeated. So only one of the above scenarios can be true (or neither of them.) My personal belief is she did lash out verbally at Edward during an angry confrontation over his marriage, and futilely tried to hold him in check with what turned out to be an idle threat.)
Following on from this series of contradictions, Cecily has also recently been made out as some sort of ‘Kingmaker’ in regards to her youngest son, ruthlessly forgetting her grandchildren (but think of the chhilldreenn, Cecily!) in order to support Richard’s claim (this is assumed mainly, I presume, because she allowed his use of Baynard castle during his bid for the crown) but in the very next instance, we have others claiming she showed her disapproval of his kingship by not attending Richard’s Coronation. (Although the latter may be another falsehood—Cecily may well have been there. As the late John Ashdown-Hill wrote in his book on the Duchess, the assumption of her absence comes from the fact there is no record of her having received fabric for her robes—Well, there is also no record of Richard and Anne receiving any fabric either, as their clothes would have been supplied by the Great Wardrobe. Cecily’s garments could quite possibly have come straight from the Great Wardrobe too, since she was the King’s Mother.)
Now, there is certainly nothing wrong with debating either John Howard or Dame Cecily’s involvement in the events of 1483. But let’s not end up with either rumour or theory being presented as fact (we have enough of that already!), such as some of the elements in this article on Cecily Neville, which is on the National Archives page:
Bishop Robert Stillington was imprisoned soon after Bosworth and died in captivity in 1491, definitely by 15 May. It is generally thought that this was a punishment for providing the copious evidence that convinced the Three Estates, in June 1483, of Edward IV’s bigamy. This rendered Elizabeth of York and all her siblings legally illegitimate, which was highly inconvenient for Henry “Tudor”, who sought to marry her. Stillington’s arrest and Catesby‘s summary execution fall into the first four days of Henry VII’s actual reign and the first five of the reign he claimed.
There has been an alternative view, based on the writings of Edward Hall, compiled after More but before Shakespeare. In 1475-6, just after the planned invasion of France was cancelled, an embassy was sent to Francis, Duke of Brittany, seeking to capture “Tudor”. Both Vergil and Hall comment that “the Bishop of Bath and Wells” was part of the party in question. Several Cairo dwellers rely on that interpretation, identifying Stillington as the man in question.
Oliver King the snooker player. For some reason, we couldn’t find a photo of the Bishop.
In 1475-6, Robert Stillington was indeed Bishop of Bath and Wells but there are several convincing reasons to conclude that he wasn’t the man in question. By the time Polydore Vergil put quill to paper, Oliver King (1495-1503) occupied that see and Hall “redialled” to King’s predecessor but one for convenience. King was among those arrested but released at the time of Hastings’ plot.
Secondly, Stillington was not a well man by the time Edward IV’s second reign began, taking leave of absence as Lord Privy Seal and Lord Chancellor at least twice, and the Foedera evidence shows that he was never actually sent abroad. In the ODNB, based on the Yorkshireman’s early academic career, Hicks concludes that he was born by 1410 and ordained at a comparatively late age, living into his eighties. Based on this revelation, it is possible that his own children were actually legitimate and that their mother died before he took holy orders in c.1447.
Now think about the implications of this. Canon Stillington, who almost certainly witnessed Edward IV’s real marriage, was more than thirty years older than his monarch. Ralph Butler, Lord Sudeley, a probable witness born in about 1394, was nearly fifty years older than Edward, imprisoned from 1469-73 when he died, and Lady Eleanor herself was over six years older. In other words, Edward IV need only to have lived to 49 to ensure that all those with first-hand knowledge were dead, so the ceremony would have been deniable. He didn’t, of course, thereby ending Yorkist rule.
In a tiny town in Wales, a ruined castle stands on rising ground amidst a haze of dark trees. An atmospheric round tower, cracked by time; shattered walls, the remains of hall and chapel. Privately owned, a garden drops down the hillside before it, to an old house which appears to contain much castle stonework. Modern statuary of gargoyles peep out from a tangle of flowers as birds fly from their nests in the towers toward the town beyond, with its grey church, once an ancient priory.
This is Usk Castle, and it has an interesting history, and a legend that might contain a grain of truth. A Roman fort once stood nearby and the castle itself may be situated on the site of an Iron Age hill-fort. The first castle was likely built in Norman times by Richard de Clare and William the Conqueror’s banner-bearer, Tristram Fitz Rolf . Later, around 1120, the Marcher Lord, Richard Fitz Gilbert de Clare strengthened the castle’s defences, perhaps building in stone for the first time. His tenure there was long so long; Iorwerth Ap Owain killed him in an ambush in a dark, wooded pass called ‘the ill way of Coed Grano.’ The place today still contains a commemorative marker known as the ‘Stone of Revenge.’ Later still, Usk was held by William Marshal and then returned to the de Clare family with Gilbert de Clare, earl of Hereford (son of Joan of Acre, daughter of Edward I), who was slain at Bannockburn in 1314.
The last events of high drama at the castle seem to have taken place in 1405, when Welsh prince Owain Glyndwr attacked the town of Usk and the garrison gave battle, capturing Owain’s son.
The rest of the 1400’s may have been quieter in Usk, but just as interesting. For a time, Usk Castle was held by Edmund Mortimer, earl of the Marches, and from him it eventually passed to Richard, Duke of York, whose mother was Anne Mortimer, granddaughter of Philippa, the daughter of Lionel of Clarence, Edward III’S third son. The Duke of York was also patron to nearby Usk Priory, today the parish church. William Herbert (senior) was the Duke’s steward in the area. When Edward IV came to the throne, Usk became a crown possession, and of course it was also subsequently held by Richard III.
Several references of the 1800’s (earliest 1828) to the York family at Usk are rather noteworthy. They state the Duke of York spent ‘considerable time’ at the castle, and that both Edward IV and Richard III were born there. Now, it is known for a fact that Edward was born in Rouen, France and Richard at Fotheringhay, in Northamptonshire, but could there be something in this old tale, which was repeated in more than one source? Is there some sliver of folk memory here, recalling that the Duke’s sons had been in residence in Usk at some time? Edward was not all that far far away at Ludlow with Edmund as a youth, but what about Richard?
It is interesting to look at the stable isotopes detected on Richard’s teeth. They showed that his earliest childhood was spent in a geographic area of England that would correspond with Fotheringhay; then the isotopes appear to indicate he spent some time in a wetter environment more consistent with western Britain. We know he was with his family at Ludlow at the time of the Battle of Ludford Bridge and the subsequent sacking of the town. Could he have spent some time prior to that at Usk? Was Duchess Cecily in residence there for a while with her younger children? I somehow doubt the Duke would have his wife and children ride all the way from Fotheringhay to Ludlow with hostilities about to break out in the area, so it only makes sense to assume they were already dwelling somewhere in the region. Perhaps they were at Usk and the Duke ordered them to Ludlow, which had a larger, stronger, more defensible castle. The distance between Usk and Ludlow is around 50 miles, a much shorter distance than that between Fotheringhay and Ludlow. That latter route would also have taken in more of the Lancastrian dominated areas in the Midlands. Certainly, the possibility is there and many legends are not just pulled from thin air.
We all know the legend that George of Clarence was drowned in a butt of Malmsey. I wonder how much such a butt would have cost at the time? I doubt it was as much as it became when Henry VII sat on his stolen throne. Henry was never one to miss an opportunity to line his pockets.
According to Stow’s Survey of London, it became law that “no sweet wines were to be brought into the realm except Malmseys by the Lombards. They had to pay to the king for his licence six shillings and eight pence of every butt, besides twelve pence for bottle large.”
A nice little earner, Henry! I’ll warrant that if George had been disposed of during your reign, it would have been in something much cheaper than Lombard Malmsey!
I like to be fair. I really do. Even when I find it hard. Take Elizabeth Wydeville ..or not if you prefer. Although I am not and never will be a fan of this lady… ‘wife’ to Edward IV, illustrious Son of York, a golden warrior but a man prone to keeping his brains in his pants..I try to remain open minded. Of course the fact that Elizabeth swiftly skedaddled across the road from the Palace of Westminster into the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey upon hearing of the approach of Richard Duke of Gloucester, after he had taken her son, the uncrowned Edward V into his care following a failed assassination plot on the Duke’s life, looks extremely suspect. Taking her younger son, Richard of Shrewsbury, his sisters and Thomas Grey, her oldest surviving son , plus the royal treasure, Elizabeth prepared herself for a long stay.
The outcome of all that is well known and I won’t go into it here. Later, Elizabeth, sent into ‘retirement’ into Bermondsey Abbey, by an unforgiving son in law, paid a very high price for her propensity for plotting. But are other stories about her true..as they say give a dog a bad name..and one I have often wondered about is the story that Elizabeth was behind the judicial murder of Thomas Fitzerald, Earl of Desmond..and not only that ..his two small sons. The story goes, which is oft repeated in both fact and fictional accounts, is that she was mightily offended by a casual comment made by Desmond to Edward, which Edward foolishly and naively repeated to her (this was in the early days of their marriage and would imply he was not yet fully aware of the nastier and vindictive side to her nature) that he believed Edward had made a ‘mèsalliance‘ and that ‘he should have chosen a more suitable bride‘ and thus consumed by malicious spite, she misappropriated her husband’s privy seal, removing it from Edwards ‘purche’ while he slept, and sent instructions to John Tiptoft, first earl of Worcester, then Chancellor and Lord Deputy of Ireland, to have Desmond executed on trumped up charges including a ‘ridiculous and groundless allegation that he sought to make himself king of Ireland’.
Later Edward on finding out the terrible truth was not best pleased..as Rosemary Hawley Jarman put it so succinctly in her novel The King’s Grey Mare …‘I fear Madam, he saidvery slowly, I very much fear Bessy, that you have become unkind’and set out to pour oil on troubled waters for the execution caused much uproar, turmoil and rebellion in Ireland. Surely this story is too horrid to be true even for those violent times. I was thus pleased to discover an excellent article by Annette Carson and the late John Ashdown-Hill which they co-wrote for the Ricardian back in June 2005. For surely these two know their onions and would be able to discern truth from fiction. After reading the article I came away a little shocked for their in-depth investigation did not put this story to rest but rather made it seem more probable that Elizabeth Wydeville, with the connivance of Tiptoft, did indeed bring about the execution of a man merely because of words spoken that she took umbrage to.
The article can be found here for those of you who wish to explore more fully this unedifying story of Edward’s queen and a man who would be known as the Butcher of England and who himself was executed in 1470 by Desmond’s friend, Warwick the Kingmaker, Tiptoft’s former brother-in-law, and good riddance to him. Perhaps Warwick had another, more personal “axe to grind” – could it be that Tiptoft treated his first wife Cicely, Warwick’s sister, coldly for he requested in a letter to Henry Cranebroke, monk of Christchurch, Canterbury, following the death of his 2nd wife, Elizabeth Greyndour, prayers ‘with special remembraunce of her soul whom I loved best'(1) surely an unnecessarily slight to the memory of his first Neville wife. Tiptoft has been described as a man of culture, erudite and a reader and lover of books! Whoopi doo dah! More specifically he was a man who thought it perfectly acceptable to have impalement added to the already awful sentence of hanging, drawing and quartering. This was the fate 20 of Warwick’s men suffered at Southampton on Tiptoft’s command and which caused much revulsion in an already cruel age. No wonder he was described by a contemporary chronicler as ‘that fierce executioner and horrible beheader of men’ (2).
John Tiptoft’s memorial, Ely Cathedral. Effigy of Tiptoft with two of his wives probably Cicely Neville and Elizabeth Greyndour..
Nevertheless it would appear that Elizabeth Wydeville may have asked Tiptoft to aid and abet her undaunted by his reputation for harshness. The most appalling part of this story is the accusation that Tiptoft also executed Desmond’s two young sons. Another possibility is that Tiptoft was fooled by the forged letter. But in any event ‘this yeare the Earle of Desmond and his two sonnes were executed by ye Earle of Worcester in Drogheda'(3) the youngest one asking the executioner to take care as he had a boil on his neck.
MAGDALENE TOWER – ALL THAT REMAINS OF THE DOMINICAN FRIARY AT DROGHEDA. DESMOND WAS REMOVED FROM THE FRIARY AND SUMMARILY EXECUTED.
And so dear reader, do take time to read this most interesting article if you would like to explore the matter and draw your own conclusions. The authors of the article in-depth examination of the sources, some of which have been ignored by previous writers on the subject is compelling and persuasive. Among the somewhat damning points made are that Desmond was in fact in England, to give Edward his account of the coin and leverage accusation being made against him, at the precise time that the Wydeville marriage became public. Edward found in Desmond’s favour and gave him a grant of manors. Furthermore the other two men accused along with Desmond, including Kildare, his brother, only escaped execution because they managed to evade Tiptoft long enough until the matter reached the ears of Edward, who extended clemency to the pair, which implies that Tiptoft had acted without the ‘knowledge or consent of the king’. Edward went on to quell the rebellion begun by Desmond’s oldest sons who ‘raised their standards and drew their swords , resolved to avenge their father’s murder’ by promising them pardon if they lay their swords down ‘protesting at the same time Desmond had been put to death, without his order, nay his consent’. The king would later go on to ‘clearly acknowledge’ Thomas’ son, James’, title to the earldom despite Tiptoft’s act of attainder against his father.
The nave of Holy Trinity Cathedral, Dublin..Thomas Fitzgerald Earl of Desmond was finally laid to rest somewhere in the Cathedral (now known as Christ Church Cathedral).
Later Richard III wrote a conciliatory letter, which has survived, to Desmond’s son, James, followed up with instructions that his messenger, Bishop Thomas Barrett, was to ‘amplify’ the message that Richard’s brother, Clarence, had suffered a similar fate as Desmond in that his death had been brought about by ‘certain persons’. It must be concluded that the ‘certain person’ alluded to was Elizabeth Wydeville for according to Mancini writing in 1483 contemporary opinion at the time held her responsible for the death of Clarence… ‘the queen concluded that her offspring by the king would never come to the throne unless the duke of Clarence was removed and of this she easily persuaded the king..’
King Richard III sent a conciliatory message to Desmond’s son, James 8th Earl of Desmond comparing the judicial murder of his brother Clarence to that of Desmond ..
And so there we have it dear reader..if this indeed be the case, its very hard to feel pity for Elizabeth when fate’s fickle finger finally gave her the prodding she so richly deserved.
(1) W A Pantin, ( 3.103-4)
(2) Gairdner, (183)
(3) The Register of the Mayors of Dublin records (erroneously under the date 1469)
The preacher at St. Paul’s stated that the late King’s surviving issue were illegitimate. On this occasion, it wasn’t Dr. Ralph Shaa on 22nd June 1483 about Edward IV’s sons but Rt. Rev. Nicholas Ridley, Bishop of London and Westminster, on 9 July 1553 about Henry VIII’s daughters, at which time Jane was proclaimed. As we know, Ridley (b.c.1500), together with Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester, was burned in Oxford today in 1555. Like the earlier victim, Rowland Tayler, he had been a chaplain to Thomas Cranmer, his Archbishop. Furthermore, as a result of the Reformation in which all three had participated with gusto, they were part of the first generation of English clergy, not bound by clerical celibacy, to marry and have legitimate children. Bishop Ridley’s own notable descendants include these four, three of whom are closely related to each other and share his connections to Northumbria:
Rt. Hon Nicholas, Baron Ridley (1929-93), son of the 3rd Viscount Ridley, who was MP for Cirencester and Tewkesbury for more than half of his life and a Cabinet Minister for seven years. His maternal grandfather was the architect Sir Edwin Lutyens.
Professor Jane Ridley (b.1953), daughter of the above and a modern historian at the University of Buckingham, who is a particular expert on the nineteenth century, who we cited in this post. Here, on the BBC’s “Keeping the faith”, she speaks about her ecclesiastical ancestor.
Jasper Ridley (1920-2004), the fellow historian who wrote the Bishop’s biography as well as those of Cranmer and Knox, is a more distant relation.
Matthew, 5th Viscount Ridley (b.1958) is Nicholas’ nephew and thus Jane’s cousin. He is a scientist, blogger, writer and businessman, whose team won Christmas University Challenge in 2015.
Nelion Ridley is an Essex-based brewer, as this article from a Wetherspoon’s newsletter also shows. “Bishop Nick” is a recent company, formed after Ridleys (1842) was bought out, producing “Heresy”, “1555”, “Ridley’s Rite”, “Martyr” and “Divine”.
Richard, Duke of York, was killed at the Battle of Wakefield in 1460 but later, in 1476, exhumed by his son, Edward IV. The body was taken with great ceremony from Pontefract to Fotheringhay, resting each night at Doncaster, Blyth, Tuxford le Clay, Newark, Grantham, Stamford and finally being reburied at Fotheringhay. Among the mourners on the journey was the duke’s youngest son, Richard, Duke of Gloucester. A huge funeral feast for 15,000 people followed.
Richard, 3rd Duke of York
In 2010 Wakefield Historical Society retraced that journey on the anniversary dates of 21st-29th July to commemorate the 550th anniversary of Richard’s (York’s) death. Each day included visits to places of interest and a chance to walk some stretches of the original route. Each evening included a performance of a medieval Vespers of the Dead, in the church where the body rested, as well as a talk by an invited lecturer.
Although this event took place in 2010, it’s well worth going to here . Use the list on the top left to follow exactly what happened, the route and so on.The above illustration is of Richard II’s funeral procession, which followed much of the same route. The picture was executed in 1468, and so is probably an accurate depiction of how the Duke of York’s procession might have appeared.