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Interesting roots

“Who do you think you are?” has returned and the third episode of the new series (20 July) featured Clare Balding. After last year’s programmes , this one and this other recent one, it is no surprise that tracing this racing presenter’s royal ancestry is a little easier.

Clare’s great-grandmother was Lady Victoria (hence the middle name) Stanley, who married, secondly, Sir Malcolm Bullock. This links her to the Earls of Derby, the first of whom was that Thomas, Lord Stanley who liked watching battles, although they were not broadcast live in his time. In particular, the 17th Earl married Lady Alice Montagu, who shared “Tudor” descent such that Ferdinando (5th Earl, 1559-94) was regarded as a hypothetical Catholic claimant after Mary of Scotland’s execution. Unsurprisingly, the Derby, one of the events she has often presented, was named for an ancestor (the 12th Earl, above right) from 1780.

Additionally, her uncle is William Hastings-Bass, the 17th Earl of Huntingdon and once the Queen’s trainer, connecting her to the marriage between Francis (2nd Earl, tomb in Ashby de la Zouch to the left) and Catherine Pole, thus to George, Duke of Clarence and Edward III.

I would rather have heard the Huntingdon line mentioned than so much about her Dutch-American forebears at the end.

While on a Cheshire road, Richard, Duke of Gloucester happened upon the retainers of Thomas, Lord Stanley….

knights ambushed on road

In my other article about Richard’s support for the Harringtons of Lancashire against Thomas, Lord Stanley, * I promised to write more about Stanley’s treachery and thirst for revenge on Richard. Other events happened at around the same time as the Harrington/Stanley quarrels, indeed the two are contiguous, and this time Richard was responsible for Thomas Stanley coming off worse.

At the end of the 1460s Richard took the side of the Harrington family against Stanley, who was trying to crush them and steal their property, especially Hornby Castle in Lancashire, which he particularly coveted. Edward IV decided in the Stanleys’ favour, even though the Harringtons had been staunchly Yorkist, and Stanley was…anyone’s guess, but beneath it all I suppose he was Lancastrian. No, he was a Stanleyite, only interested in his own wealth and advancement, and he didn’t care how he went about it. He must have felt smug and vindicated when Edward decided in his favour, but he wouldn’t forget Richard’s opposition.

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On 12th March 1470, a battle was fought at Empingham in Lincolnshire. Well, just over the county border in Rutland. It was to be known to posterity as the Battle of Losecoat Field. Hostilities first stirred when Lord Welles, a Lancastrian, plundered the manor of Sir Thomas Burgh, Edward IV’s Master of the Horse. Things went from bad to worse, and soon the countryside was in uproar.

The bare bones of it are that Edward’s disgruntled brother, George, Duke of Clarence, deserted him to support the Earl of Warwick, who was (at this time) on the Lancastrian side. It is believed that Warwick and Clarence were behind the uprising which they intended to exploit to bring Edward down and (Clarence hoped) put him on the throne instead. But Edward moved swiftly, and took his well-trained army, complete with formidable hardware, to confront the much larger army of rebels that consisted of a rabble of common men. Faced with such royal discipline and fire-power, the ragtag rebels fled, casting off its coats as it went. Thus the Battle of Empingham became known as the Battle of Losecoat Field.

The battle is commemorated in the hall of Oakham Castle, where there is a display of horseshoes, the oldest of which was presented by Edward after the battle. At the time it had the king’s coat of arms on the top and also the Rose of York on a red background.

Warwick and Clarence made themselves scarce, riding for Manchester, where they intended to join forces with—guess who?—Lord Stanley! At this point, however, Edward did not know of Stanley’s duplicity. Richard did, however, having found out purely by chance.

Richard, seventeen at the time, had been holding Wales for the king, and on hearing of Clarence and Warwick’s treachery, he set out with a small, hastily collected force, intending to give his support to Edward. I will now let Paul Murray Kendall take up the story:-

“…he [Richard] headed north on the Hereford to Shrewsbury road. As he was riding through Cheshire, Richard suddenly found his way blocked by followers of Lord Stanley. He scattered them and moved on warily, dispatching a warning to the king of Stanley’s hostility.

“Richard’s intervention had come at an opportune moment. Lord Stanley, who was married to Warwick’s sister, had given Warwick and Clarence assurances that he would support them. As they moved northward, temporizing with the King, Stanley, at Manchester, was gathering his retainers. At almost the same time he learned that Warwick and Clarence were galloping westward from Chesterfield, expecting him to succour them. Stanley’s nerve deserted him. He sent messengers riding in hot haste: one, to Clarence and Warwick with word that he was unable to help them; the other, to the King, protesting righteously that the Duke of Gloucester had attacked his people. Abandoning all hope of raising a following, Clarence and Warwick wheeled about and fled south.

“By this time King Edward, discerning the true state of affairs, had sent word to Richard thanking him for his prompt action and requesting him to stay his march. [Richard went to his Harrington friends at Hornby Castle, where he was on 26th March.] Lord Stanley [was ordered by Edward] to disband his retainers and keep the peace. On March 25, at York, Edward commanded proclamation to be made that no man was to stir up trouble because of ‘any matter of variance late fallen between his right entirely beloved brother, the Duke of Gloucester and Lord Stanley’. Two or three days later Richard received commissions to array the men of Gloucestershire and Hereford in order to join the King in the pursuit of his rebels.”

Clarence and Warwick, with their wives, managed to escape to France, where they were given a warm welcome by the officers of Louis XI. They would return to invade England the following year. Warwick would die at the Battle of Barnet, and Clarence would sneak back into Edward’s good books and fight for him at the Battle of Tewkesbury.

So, within a very short space of time Thomas Stanley garnered two very strong reasons to resent Richard, who in the future, as Richard III, would again show support for the Harringtons. Were Thomas and his brother William men to bear grudges? Oh, yes. They waited until August 1485, Bosworth, and exacted full revenge. Thomas remained inactive in the battle (if he was there at all), while William pitched in on the side of Henry Tudor.

As I said in my article on the Harringtons’ quarrel with the Stanleys, I think the outcome of Bosworth had much more to do with the past and bruised Stanley egos, than with Henry Tudor, Margaret Beaufort et al. Thomas and William Stanley merely concealed their real motivation behind a screen of new allegiance to Henry.

* This ‘previous’ article has been moved, and now follows on 22nd July 2017. Sorry for the mix-up.

Thomas, Lord Stanley

Thomas, Lord Stanley

The puzzle of George of Clarence’s Calais wedding….

could be clarence wedding

The only certain thing that can be said of the marriage of George, Duke of Clarence, and Isabel Neville, daughter of the Earl of Warwick, is that it took place in Calais. Oh, and that Isabel’s uncle, the Archbishop of York, performed the ceremony. After that, the picture is a little blurred. Which day? Which church? Who was there? How long did the celebrations last? Was it public…or kept under wraps. Search for definitive information, and you will find differing answers to all these questions.

Calais

Those who read this blog will know the circumstances that led to the marriage. Briefly, Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick fell out with Edward IV, whom he had helped to the throne, thus earning the nickname of Kingmaker. George, Duke of Clarence, Edward’s brother, also fell out with Edward and deserted him to side with Warwick in Calais. This alliance was cemented by George’s marriage to Warwick’s elder daughter, Isabel. (The younger daughter, Anne, was to eventually marry the youngest of the three royal brothers, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, who would, of course, become Richard III.) The object was to invade England, get rid of Edward, and replace him with George, who believed his own claim was better because of a story that Edward was illegitimate.

An account of the wedding by George Amelius Crawshay Sandeman appears in his Calais Under English Rule:-

“In 1469 another magnificent marriage thrilled Calais society, when George, Duke of Clarence, wedded Isabella, the King-maker’s daughter, thus sealing the revolt against Edward IV. This marriage was celebrated by the Archbishop of York in Notre Dame.” (I do not know how much faith to place in this author, because he also states that “…in 1487 Richard III made a grant, dated from Kenilworth, July I, ‘in the way of charity’…” 1487? Neat trick, Richard!)

Notre Dame, Calais

So, now we have the bare bones of the situation in July 1469, when George and Isabel took their vows in the parish church of Calais, Notre Dame/Our Lady (above). Or was it St Nicholas church? St Mary’s? St Peter’s? All four were in Calais, but there generally seems to be a tussle between Notre Dame and St Mary’s when it comes to this wedding. Some even say it wasn’t celebrated in a church at all, but at the castle. There is also disagreement about whether it all took place on 11th or 12th July, but all agree that 1469 was the year.

arms of george neville, archbishop of york

The Archbishop of York was, of course, Warwick’s brother. But who else was present? Warwick himself? His other daughter, Anne? His countess? Certainly the groom’s family would not have been represented. Edward IV strongly opposed the union, which was most certainly proceeding without his consent. But Edward knew about it. So how could it be secret? Maybe the secrecy only involved the time and place, not the fact of the marriage? After all, according to Susan Higginbotham “A papal dispensation was obtained in March 1469, despite Edward IV’s objection to the match”. So I guess everyone knew well beforehand that the marriage was on.

In The World of Richard III by Kristie Dean, she writes “…the ceremony was a well-attended affair with five Knights of the Garter and other lords and ladies present…” Who were these KGs, lord and ladies? She also writes that it was “most likely in St Mary’s Church, because the men [George and Warwick?] wanted it to be as public as possible.” It can’t be secret and public at the same time.

http://www.richardiii-nsw.org.au/tag/nevilles/ places the wedding day on 12th July, but the majority go for the 11th. For instance, the chronicler Wavrin says it all took place on Tuesday, 11th July, but he had left Calais almost a week earlier. Nevertheless he says ‘there were not many people, so the festivities only lasted two days’. Hindsight? Or did he know this beforehand? Oh, and George Amelius Crawshay Sandeman  describes the wedding as “magnificent”! He and Wavrin can’t both be right.

George and Isabel - 1

So, the puzzle remains, as does the statement that all we can really be sure of is that the wedding took place.

Clarence's signature

 

 

Elizabeth of York and the cult of Edward of Lancaster….

Edward, Prince of Wales, the eighteen-year-old son of Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou, was killed in the Battle of Tewkesbury, 4th May 1471. He became the subject of an exclusive posthumous cult.

The chronicle of Tewkesbury Abbey tells of the Prince’s death in battle and of his burial ‘in the mydste of the covent quiere in the monastery ther’; the short paragraph describing his death ends with the words ‘for whom god worketh’, a reference to miracles performed at the tomb, which is now lost. The plaque in the floor of the abbey merely marks that he rests somewhere close by. A little like the tomb of Queen Anne Neville in Westminster abbey. The quire is in the western part of the chancel, between the nave and the sanctuary, which houses the altar and tabernacle. In 1911, flowers were still being laid on the site of the grave.

Further evidence of interest in the Prince includes an annual commemoration, bequests at his tomb, and pilgrimage to it. Queen Elizabeth of York offered, in March 1502. ‘to Prince Edward 5s’, though it was not indicated where exactly she offered them. There was a cult of the prince’s father, the saintly Henry VI, and Elizabeth offered three times at his shrine in Windsor. Henry VII must have granted his permission for these offerings.

In 1508 Edward, Duke of Buckingham (died 1521) visited the prince’s tomb in Tewkesbury. Danna Piroyansky, author of Martyrs in the Making – Political Martyrdom in Late Medieval England, considers he may have been hoping to advertise his Lancastrian connections, which made him a potential claimant to the throne, but I cannot go along with that. Advertise his closeness to the throne when Henry VII and then Henry VIII were reigning? It would amount to something close to a death wish.

To return to Prince Edward. He is believed to have fallen in battle, and the story of him being caught fleeing could be a Yorkist attempt to ridicule the Lancastrian heir’s courage, and thus contrast him unfavourably with the ‘courageous and manly’ Edward IV. It has to be considered. As does the other story that he was murdered by Richard of Gloucester to clear the way to marriage with Anne Neville, whose husband the prince was. This latter tale strikes me as another calculated Tudor fib to blacken Richard’s name.

anne_neville_and her husbands

I digress. After the battle, Edward IV attempted to check the much more important cult that swiftly arose around Henry VI, but there is no evidence that he did the same in the case of Prince Edward. Maybe because it was a number of years after Tewkesbury—1502—when his cult began to develop. And 1502 is when we have Elizabeth of York offering 5s ‘to Prince Edward’.

Now, there was more than one Prince Edward, Prince of Wales, of course. Another was the elder of Elizabeth’s two brothers, who was briefly King Edward V, and had been famously ensconced in the Tower with his younger brother. No one knows what happened to the boys, and everyone likes to blame Richard III. Failing that, they blame the Duke of Buckingham, Margaret Beaufort and Henry VII. The disappearance of Edward IV’s sons might have suited a number of people.

There is a question mark over the claimant Perkin Warbeck, who led Henry such a merry dance. Many believe he really was who he said he was, the younger boy from the Tower, Richard, Duke of York. If that is true, then what happened to the older of the boys, the lost King Edward V? If the little Duke of York had survived to manhood, why would he, not his elder brother, come back to haunt Henry VII? Maybe because Edward V—Prince Edward—died of natural causes?

Perkin Warbeck

If so, where might King/Prince Edward be buried? Presuming he died in England, of course. Perhaps a suitably secret place was one that was really quite obvious – the tomb of another Prince Edward. Elizabeth of York’s uncle and aunt, George, Duke of Clarence, and Isabel Neville, his duchess, were already buried in Tewkesbury Abbey, so the abbey may have seemed a good idea because of them as well.

Clarence House, Tewkesbury

Above is Clarence House, Tewkesbury. Might it have once had something to do with George of Clarence? He was granted Tewkesbury, had a bridge built there, and was buried in the abbey, so it is clear he had a lot to do with the town. This might have been his residence.

Would Elizabeth of York have to go to Tewkesbury in person to offer? Or could she send someone? There is no record (as far as I know) of her visiting Tewkesbury, so I think she would have delegated. Thus she could honour her lost brother right under her husband’s nose, in the guise of commemorating Edward of Lancaster.

Too far-fetched? Well, I am a novelist, but I do not see this as being so far-fetched as to be impossible. I have no doubt that those of you who think it is wildly unlikely will soon tell me so!

PS: A third Prince Edward, another Prince of Wales, was Richard III’s little son, about whose death and whereabouts there is still such a mystery. I will not pamper the novelist in me by wondering if Tewkesbury might be his resting place as well. With his uncle, George, Duke of Clarence. A temporary interment, while Richard prepared a much grander tomb for himself, his queen and his son. But then Bosworth put a stop to any plan poor widowed Richard may have had.

 

 

 

IS THIS THE FACE OF CLARENCE’S DAUGHTER?

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Portrait of an Unknown Lady formerly known as Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury

For many years this was believed to be  a portrait of Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury, daughter of George Duke of Clarence, and a  niece to two kings.  Tantalisingly the lady is wearing a black ribbon around her wrist with a jewel of gold fashioned like a little barrel.  Surely this was Margaret’s tacit recognition and acknowledgment of her father’s death by drowning in a butt of Malmsey?

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Close up of the barrel jewel attached to the black ribbon and the W monogram.

I noticed however that this portrait, in the National Portrait Gallery , is now described as that of an Unknown Lady, formerly known as Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury.  Baffled by this turnabout I contacted the Gallery who very kindly clarified the matter for me.  In 1963 the portrait underwent detailed investigation by the Gallery’s Scientific Department the results of which showed ‘what appeared to be  extensive repainting,  including the ermines spots on the headdress, scumbling on the white fur of the sleeves, also the ermine edge to the bodice ‘ (1) but worse still,   ‘the gold barrel shaped jewel  was almost certainly a  later addition as almost certainly were the black ribbon and W monogram jewel.  Without stripping the picture it would be impossible to access how accurately it recreates motifs originally there and how far it is ficticious’  However the report goes on to say there is, so far, no reason why the portrait in its original condition should not have represented Margaret Pole, so there is still hope, although  ‘ these doubts may only be resolved by the reappearance of another  16th century picture of her that was known to have existed.  The W shaped jewel is inexplicable unless the portrait was intended  for her granddaughter Winifred'(2).   Could it possibly be a direct decendant  of Winifred had these additions added to the portrait in homage and draw attention  to Winifred’s noble lineage? The portrait was once at Barrington Hall – Winifred Pole had married into the Barringtons and the family prided themselves on their descent from her.  Alternatively , the Roy Strong catalogue suggests this could be a 17th or 18th century Barrington lady dressed up as the Countess! Bad news, maybe, for those who once believed this was without a doubt a portrait of Margaret.

The matter is  further muddied by notes from Hazel Pierce’s biography of Margaret – Margaret Pole Countess of Salisbury, Loyalty, Lineage and Leadership,  which state:’ The panel is of oak and tree ring dating suggests that it was felled in 1482 thus the most likely period of use is believed to have been between 1515 and 1525 (3).  The notes go on to say that ‘Initially it did appear that the ermine spots on the outer part of the headdress had been painted over the original craquelure, which indicated that these were later additions along with with the ermine spots on the outer sleeves.  However when the portrait was finally cleaned in 1973 the ermine spots did not disappear, neither did the barrel bracelet or the ‘W’ suspended from the sitter’s fingers, which suggests they may have been original after all.  The barrel will refer to Clarence and the W to Warwick.  Therefore the results of the cleaning result once more to the portrait being an authentic likeness of Margaret, Countess of Salisbury.  I am grateful to the National Portrait Gallery Archives for this information’ (4).

Finally, perhaps I am mistaken but is there anyone else that can see the similiarities  in this portrait of the much older Margaret  with that of the young,  fuller faced Margaret,  as drawn by Rous?

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Lady Margarete from The Rous Roll

Is it only me who can detect the similarities of the same  almond shaped eyes, and the small rosebud lips?

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Lady Margarete from the Rous Roll

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If I cannot pursuade you of this  –  then can I ask  for consideration to be given as to why,  someone, at a later date, if this were the case which is now doubtful, would  take the trouble to add the barrel on the ribbon unless they had  known for certain that this portrait was indeed a true likeness of Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury?

(1) Roy Strong Tudor and Jacobean Portraits 1969 p 272

(2) Ibid

(3)  Hazel Pierce Margaret Pole Countess of Salisbury Loyalty, Lineage and Leadership p.198

(4) Ibid

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Margaret Pole Countess of Salisbury 1473-1541 Loyalty Lineage and Leadership by Hazel Pierce.

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Those looking for an in-depth assessment of the life of Margaret Pole need look no further. Hazel Pierce has more than adequately supplied it in her biography of Margaret – Margaret Pole Countess of Salisbury 1473-1541 Loyalty Lineage and Leadership.  Covering Margaret’s life from early childhood – orphaned at five years old,  Margaret’s earlier needs were catered for by her uncle Edward who supplied her with the necessities – well –  it was the very least he could do under the circumstances – her marriage to Sir Richard Pole – Pierce opines this was a happy one – her widowhood  – the restoration to her  of her brother Edward’s Earldom of Salisbury  by Henry Vlll and finally, her violent death at the hands of an inept axeman aged 67.

 

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George Duke of Clarence – Margaret’s father ‘a myghty prince semley of person and ryght witty and wel visaged’.  At her birth in 1473 he stood third in line of succession to the crown of England.

I must confess that on reaching the end of the book my view of Margaret had changed slightly and not perhaps for the better.  I was left slightly  confused – was she merely obstinate, stubborn and hardheaded,  foolishly pressing Henry’s buttons to the limits – unwisely as it transpired – or was she driven by the rememberance of her noble lineage, indeed more noble than Henry’s,  the present occupier of the throne?   Did she feel honour bound , even duty bound,  after the judicial murder of her brother, Edward the Earl of Warwick, to fight Henry tooth and nail over property matters, a fight that raged for 10 years?  Did this lead to Henry nurturing a dislike for her which would later influence the decision to execute her?  Undoubtedly she infuriated Henry when she encouraged his daughter, the rebellious  Mary,  aiding and abbeting her in her refusal to return her jewels when her father needed them for his new wife, Anne Boleyn.  Margaret seems to have suffered from a nervous breakdown when she and Mary were forcibly parted but later regained her strength and resolve when standing up to the most strenuous of interrogations ,  her courage shining  through in the comments made by one of these interrogators,  Sir William Fitzwilliam, Earl of Southampton, who according to Pierce was sympathetic to Margaret’s younger son Geoffrey, but disliked Margaret.  He later wrote ‘we have dealid with such a one as men have not dealid with to fore us,  Wee may call hyr rather a strong and custaunt man than   a woman

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William Fitzwilliam, Earl of Southampton by Hans Holbein.  The face of the man who interrogated Margaret over 2 days.

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Warblington Castle, Hampshire,   Margaret’s principal residence where she was interrogated by  Sir William Fitzwilliam and Thomas Goodrich Bishop of Ely.

Fortunately for Pierce – and for us – plentiful records have survived that cover Margaret and her sons’ lives ( had the human shredders from the reign of Henry Vll long since departed this mortal coil?)  that have enabled Pierce to write a cracking good book and her meticulous attention to detail must be applauded.  I found it difficult at times to put this well researched and balanced book down.

Margaret’s eldest son, Henry Montague seems the most sensible of the lot although prone to letting his mouth run dangerously away with him from time to time.

Geoffrey, the youngest,  is perhaps the one that took after his maternal grandfather, the mercurial George Duke of Clarence, a loose cannon, but at the same time likeable and charming , with friends  that tried to save him, but perhaps lacking the courage of George. He tried to suffocate himself with a cushion, which,  not surprisingly failed, and his wife was terrified that he might reveal too much if interrogated –  indeed he feared this very thing himself.

Reginald – ah Reginald! – he was the fly in the ointment, safely on the Continent, he managed to survive assassination attempts on his life and was complicit, via his writings, in the downfall of the Pole family.  Reginald survived to become a Cardinal and later Archbishop of Canterbury under Mary Tudor.  For me a further question arises over Reginald’s rather cavalier attitude to his family back in England.  Opposed to Henry’s religious changes in 1537 he sent a message warning that if his mother supported these opinions  ‘mother as she is myne, i wolde treade appon her with my feete”    Reginald seems not to have  give a flying fig over the survival and fates of his family.  If so why?  Perhaps a grudge of some sort, an axe to grind?  Pierce added that Reginald’s actions are so well known that they do not need including in her book.  So that is another story.

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Margaret’s son, Reginald Pole, consecrated as Archbishop of Canterbury in 1556.

And so around spun the fickle wheel of fortune, until they, with the exception of Reggie, were totally undone,  disaster and tragedy overtaking them all , with even Montgue’s young son, Henry Pole the Younger, disappearing from sight forever once he entered the Tower of London with his father and grandmother.  Poor little blighter.

Although this book does answer many question about Margaret and her family it does leave me with one – did the Poles contribute to their own demise, all in some way stretching Henry’s patience to the limit OR was it always inevitable that Henry would in the end,  annihilate the last of those who had the royal and noble Plantagenent blood coursing through their veins?

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The Salisbury Chantry, Christchurch Priory, Dorset.  Margaret’s intended resting place.  Margaret was in eventuality buried in the chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, at the Tower of London alongside Henry’s other victims.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A SWORD OF EDWARD IV IN IRELAND

The House of York  always had a strong connection with Ireland. Richard Duke of York and his family lived there from a while, sometimes at the imposing Trim Castle (beloved of movie makers from Excalibur to Braveheart) and sometimes at Dublin Castle where George of Clarence was born.  Later, after the battle of Ludford Bridge, the Duke fled to Ireland with his second son, Edmund, while the elder, Edward, hurried to Calais with the Earl of Warwick.

When Edward IV came to the throne, he kept up the connection, and established a mint at Waterford in Reginald’s Tower.  Richard III also wanted to strengthen ties with Ireland, sending a letter to Thomas Barrett, Bishop of Annaghdown, with instructions as to what sentiments the Bishop must impart in a planned  meeting with James Fitzgerald,  the Earl of Desmond. In his letter to the Bishop, Richard commended the actions of Desmond’s father in assisting the Duke of York, saying he felt ‘inward compassion’ for the fate of the elder Desmond, who had been executed ‘by certain persons having the rule and governence there’.

The Irish remained  favourable to the Yorkist cause  even after Bosworth Field, with the uprisings connected with Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck both having connections to Ireland. Many of the soldiers who fought and died at Stoke Field were Irish.

Ireland still retains some ceremonial items given to the town of Waterford by Edward IV, including a sword and maces. These, along with a charter regarding the mint, can still be viewed in the ‘Medieval Treasures Museum’ in Waterford.

 

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(I feel there could be a trip to the Emerald Isle on the cards sometime soon!)

http://www.waterfordtreasures.com/medieval-museum/whats-inside/sword-of-edward-iv

 

 

 

A Yorkist chronicler under Henry VII’s nose?

“Hearne’s Fragment” is a relatively little-known source on late fifteenth century England. It is mysterious in origin, missing in part and not entirely accurate in detail, perhaps using old-style years?

To begin with, it gives Edward IV’s birth year as 1440 and errs in those of his brothers as well, although there is another possible explanation for this. It describes Edward’s early life and first reign at some length but says little about Richard’s “constitutional election” (Gairdner) and reign. It also relates how history is being destroyed and rewritten during Henry VII’s reign (Chapter 16): “Oftimes it is seen that divers there are, the which foresee not the causes precedent and subsequent; for the which they fall many times into such error, that they abuse themselves and also others, their successors, giving credence to such as write of (from) affection, (partiality) leaving the truth that was in deed. Wherefore, in avoiding all such inconveniences, my purpose is, and shall be, [as touching the life of King Edward the Fourth] to write and shew those and such things, the which I have heard of his own mouth. And also in part of such things, in the which I have been personally present, as well within the realm as without, during a certain space, most especially from the year of our Lord 1468 unto the year of our Lord 1482, in the which the forenamed King Edward departed from this present life.”

This source writes about Hearne’s Fragment and names the most likely writer: Thomas Howard, 2nd Duke of Norfolk. Thomas Howard was born in 1443 and served the Yorkist cause from before the 1469 rebellion. He was given the courtesy title of Earl of Surrey in 1483 and accompanied his father to Bosworth, after which he was imprisoned but restored only to the Earldom in 1489 to undertake various diplomatic duties, such as attending the new King’s daughter’s marriage to James IV. Ironically, he led the English army at Flodden only ten years later, when James was the principal casualty, and was rewarded with the restoration of the family Duchy. He died in 1424 but not before accompanying Henry VIII’s other sister to France for her wedding and presiding over Buckingham’s trial.

As for the absence of material about Richard’s reign, the explanation is surely obvious?

No more chocolate-box boys in the Tower, PLEASE….!

 

And to cap it all, we even have Kittens in the Tower!

Kittens in the Tower

Oh, for heaven’s sake!

Right, there is a famous “story” about one of our 15th-century princes of Wales, specifically Edward of Lancaster (or Westminster), seven-year-old son and heir of Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou. The fame goes that after the 2nd Battle of St Albans, which his side won, his mother asked him to decide the fate of two opposition knights who had been found guarding his father, the captive, rather weak-minded Henry VI. Little Edward chose to have their heads lopped off, even though his father protested. The prince was to eventually come off worst at the Battle of Tewkesbury, at the age of eighteen. (There are various versions of how he died, and at whose hand.)

Royal boys had armour in those days, and there are examples in the White Tower. Was Edward wearing something like this at the time of his supposed seven-year-old bloodthirstiness?

Well, of course, no one knows if the story is true. If it is, the adjective “bloodthirsty” is well earned where Edward of Lancaster is concerned. If it’s untrue, well, he is exonerated. But, given all the ferocious training young aristocratic and royal boys had to go through from the age of seven, he would certainly have already been faced with the brutal reality of medieval warfare. They all were. They learned to handle weapons that could kill, and were shown exactly how to put an end to an opponent. Some idea of this can be seen at http://www.lordsandladies.org/knighthood-training.htm and the following illustrations show more.

quintain - 3stages of knighthood

be master of all this

Imagine our little boys being confronted with such an armoury, and told they will be expected to be master of it all before they’re even men. Imagine them even being sent away to strangers to start learning how to shed blood. Unthinkable.

Like Edward of Lancaster, Richard of Gloucester (the future Richard III) is another example of this same rigorous knightly tuition from the age of seven, and learned every battle skill he might ever need. And he was very good at it. By seventeen he had his own independent command, and took part in the battles of Barnet and Tewkesbury. It was expected of him, and he met the challenge.

The boys in the Tower were Richard’s nephews. The elder was another Edward, Prince of Wales of questionable legitimacy (there are considerable doubts that Henry VI was Edward of Lancaster’s father), and was coming up for thirteen when he and his younger brother Richard of Shrewsbury (aged ten) were ensconced in the royal apartments of the Tower in 1483, after their father’s unexpected death. Both boys would have been well into their training.

They were princes of the blood. They were educated, conditioned with a sense of their superiority and importance, and learning the hows and ways of defending themselves in battle. So, in my opinion, big-eyed, clingy, vulnerable, little golden angels they were not. Yet all we see are paintings that follow the same melted-marshmallow theme.

Do we ever see similar gushing illustrations of little eight-year-old Richard of Gloucester, in exile, clinging to his not-much-older brother George of Clarence after the deaths of their father and another elder brother, Edmund? No. Why? Because there are Tudor pawmarks all over the advent of the nauseating chocolate-box images. For the advent of everything concerning the boys of 1483, in fact. There is no evidence that they were killed at all, let alone by their wicked Uncle Richard. And they weren’t in a dungeon in the tower, they were in the royal palace apartments. Theories of their fate abound, of course, but that is not of concern here. And—whisper it loudly!—the Tudors themselves weren’t without good motive for despatching the boys.

Anyway, if I never see another sugary portrait of these yucky little angels, I will be well pleased.

(On another note entirely, there is another Murrey and Blue post about how portraits can influence us. See https://murreyandblue.wordpress.com/2017/04/17/can-a-picture-paint-a-thousand-words/)

More about the heights of Richard and George….

The heights of the two younger York brothers has always been a mystery. Richard III had always been regarded as the smallest brother, both in height and build, and then Dr John Ashdown-Hill put forward his belief that the middle brother, George, Duke of Clarence, was the shortest brother. Read on….

 

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