Poor old Richard, being walked over many times by “Jenny” on her way to the school dinner hall. Jenny became an undertaker, and was eventually to attend to Richard’s reburial. The article is by Nuala McCann.
Poor old Richard, being walked over many times by “Jenny” on her way to the school dinner hall. Jenny became an undertaker, and was eventually to attend to Richard’s reburial. The article is by Nuala McCann.
“Amidst the chronicle of lost tombs at Westminster Abbey is that of Queen Anne Neville, wife of King Richard III. Queen Anne’s invisibility in these terms underlines the purported neglect on behalf of Richard III; this lack of a memorial was rectified however when a bronze plaque was placed to Queen Anne’s memory at Westminster Abbey, in an attempt to redress this act of historical forgetting. The fact though that no memorial existed to Queen Anne Neville up until the 20th century meant that whatever hope there had been in establishing the exact location of where she was buried, was slim, given the fact that her tomb is generally described as ‘lost’. This also added to the sense of mystery which already surrounded Queen Anne’s death.
“Instead of Richard III, it is Henry VII – who won victory over the former at the great Battle of Bosworth in 1485 and is remembered at Westminster Abbey. His legacy to it is most apparent in the magnificent Henry VII Chapel. All of Henry VIII’s (legitimate) children are also buried in the Abbey, thus as branches of the Tudor rose, which the marriage of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York helped to create through the union of the two hitherto warring dynasties. Henry VII’s spouse, Queen Elizabeth of York – who Richard III seems to have regarded as a possible wife after Queen Anne’s death, no doubt in an effort to neutralise the threat his niece represented to him as the undoubted Yorkist heir – lies in glory, in the tomb created for her and Henry VII by the great sculptor Pietro Torrigiano. Queen Anne Neville by contrast, lay technically ‘forgotten’ at Westminster Abbey until 1960.
“Queen Anne Neville also does not share a tomb with King Richard III, whose skeleton was, of course, discovered under a car park in Leicester, once the site of the Grey Friars church where his body, ‘pierced with numerous and deadly wounds’, was buried after Bosworth and – subsequently reburied at Leicester Cathedral in 2015. This was done, however, due to Leicester’s proximity to Market Bosworth, as opposed to any statement on the royal marriage; Richard III was simply buried alone because of the battle. By the time of Bosworth, he had not remarried after the death of Queen Anne. The tomb that was erected for King Richard in the church’s choir was paid for by Henry VII; posthumous respect for a King who had fought ‘like a most brave and valiant prince’, as even those who were not sympathetic to Richard acknowledged. The body of Richard III was of huge importance to Henry VII because it underlined his victory at Bosworth, proclaimed his new dynasty and proved that the last Plantagenet King was indeed, dead.
“Henry’s own claim to the throne was understandably one about which he was extremely sensitive, as we can see from his attitude towards both the young Earl of Warwick and pretenders such as Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck; he was, however, keen to stress that his own right to the Crown rested on a divine right won at Bosworth, as opposed to simply through the Yorkist heiress, Princess Elizabeth. Elizabeth, of course, had a far stronger claim to the English throne than his own, for which reason she had to be rendered submissive to his authority; she could have been his greatest threat – instead, she became his wife – but that fact was obviously never forgotten by King Henry.
“Some short time before Queen Anne Neville’s death, she and King Richard lost their only son. Indeed, this was a strange turn of events, given the fact that Richard III was widely supposed to have had Edward V and Richard, Duke of York, the historical ‘Princes in the Tower’, murdered, and now had lost his own ‘heir male’, for which reason it was easy to understand why a superstitious age might have ascribed this to God’s will, to avenge Queen Elizabeth Woodville, their mother. Queen Anne’s son, Edward of Middleham, died on 9 April 1484; cutting off Richard III’s direct line like this, meant that Elizabeth of York remained the true heiress in many minds, despite Richard’s Act of 1484, the Titulus Regius, which had declared her illegitimate. We may believe though, the descriptions of the Croyland Chronicle when it described Queen Anne and Richard III ‘almost bordering on madness by reason of their sudden grief’; it was alluded to in Richard’s reburial service in 2015. In parallel, we might be reminded of the scene when the news that the two Princes were thought to have been killed by order of the King, was broken to their mother, Queen Elizabeth Woodville, who ‘shriek[ed]… struck her breast, tore and pulled out her hair’ (Alison Weir, Elizabeth of York, Pg 105, 2013).
“Perhaps it was the death of her son, which weakened Queen Anne Neville; we simply do not know. It is possible that grief may have debilitated her nervous system, making her more susceptible to a medieval infection. The grief could have brought a closeness between the King and Queen – instead, we read in the Croyland Chronicle, that the King ‘shunned her bed’ (Ibid, Pg 127). The ‘Chronicler’ further reported that Queen Anne fell ‘extremely sick’ several days after Christmas; common opinion had it that the cause was tuberculosis. Croyland emphasises the ‘wound in the Queen’s breast for the loss of her son’ when referring to Christmas, 1484 (Ibid, Pg 121).
“We know little about Queen Anne Neville, even her appearance is elusive – but then, Richard III’s reign was of course, short. She features in the famous Rous Roll, illustrated on several occasions. Richard III’s marriage to Anne – the widow of Prince Edward of Lancaster – was likely to have been one borne out of political strategy because of the mighty Warwick lands which she brought with her as a daughter of the great Richard Neville, Warwick the Kingmaker. However, Anne was also Richard’s cousin, so perhaps he chose a girl he knew, as well as understanding what she would bring with her. A papal dispensation had been granted for Anne Neville’s marriage to her Yorkist cousin, Richard. Their wedding took place – fittingly, in the light of Anne’s missing tomb – at Westminster. Anne was crowned with Richard on 6 July 1483; the King and Queen walked on red cloth from Westminster Hall to Westminster Abbey. Lady Margaret Beaufort – mother of the future Henry VII – carried the Queen’s train (Ibid, Pg 102).
“Queen Anne died on 16 March 1485 – five months before the massively decisive Battle of Bosworth; she died ‘upon the day of a great eclipse of the sun’ (Ibid, Pg 128). On 22 March, less than ten days later, Richard III had sent an envoy to begin negotiations for a Portuguese marriage; this again was not a comment on his own personal feelings for Queen Anne Neville. Richard III would have been desperately aware of the fact that he had to maintain a tight grip on his throne and replace the son that had so recently died because his direct branch of the Plantagenet dynasty could die after him. After the Queen’s death, vicious rumour bussed about that the King had had her poisoned, but historically, there is no evidence for this. More importantly, these rumours show that the King was thought capable of such a thing, as he had been believed to have murdered the two Princes, so the attestation is valuable for how Richard may have been regarded by recent posterity. Although admittedly, this was a posterity in which Tudor propaganda was a powerful tool, as subsequent portraits of Richard which have been later tampered with, have shown. Any physical ‘deformity’ of Richard III would have been viewed significantly in an age when this was thought to be reflective of character; Richard III – as his skeleton shows – suffered from scoliosis, but apparently no – Shakespearean – withered arm.
“It was indeed a far cry from another Queen Anne by another King Richard; Queen Anne of Bohemia was greatly loved by Richard II, who was utterly distraught by her death from plague in 1394. They share a tomb at Westminster Abbey with clasping hands. There is nothing like this for Queen Anne Neville and Richard III.
“Queen Anne was believed to have been buried on the south side of the altar, according to the Victorian cataloguer of the Abbey’s monuments, A. P Stanley, Dean of Westminster, in his book Historical Memorials of Westminster Abbey. The grave is unmarked, and the plaque instead commemorates the Queen herself. Westminster Abbey states that she was buried in this location, in front of the ‘Sedilia’, or chairs for the priests. It may have been exposed when Sir George Gilbert Scott was making preparations for his new High Altar in the late 19th century.
“A stained glass window exists in Cardiff Castle, depicting Anne Neville next to one of Richard III.
“The bronze plaque in the south ambulatory to Queen Anne Neville was erected at the behest of the Richard III Society, bearing a quotation from the Rous Roll (‘full gracious’) and her heraldic shield is topped by a crown. It is the primary memorial that exists to an – almost – forgotten queen.”
©Elizabeth Jane Timms, 2018
Well, it’s worth a try, eh? Plus, of course, the link also contains a video of the bigwigs leaving the cathedral on the day of Richard’s interment. Always a bit of a jar to see the Beefeaters in their Tudor garb, but at least they have E:II on their uniforms. I’m sure Henry would have slipped in somehow if he could.
We have all heard of Patricia Cornwell, author of numerous titles, including the Scarpetta series. Well, it seems that the discovery of Richard’s remains have inspired her to change direction from straight crime into forensic crime. Richard’s appeal reaches out in all manner of different ways!
The woman who oversaw Richard’s route through Leicestershire and Leicester in 2014 has been recognized in the Queen’s birthday honours. Well done, Margaret Shutt! The following article also includes a ‘parade’ of excellent photographs from that memorable time, starting with the crown commissioned by John Ashdown-Hill.
This is part five, of a short series by the Warwickshire-born historian, which concentrates on modern issues such as Richard’s reburial:
However, the whole series is available and covers the Anglo-Saxon period, when there were several Cathedrals in the Midland kingdom of Mercia.
Being totally uninterested in football, it’s not like me to wait on tenterhooks for a match result – but that’s what happened last week, and now I’m absolutely delighted that Leicester City have just become champions of the Premier League.
Five years ago, news that the football team of an obscure Midlands city had beaten the likes of Manchester United might have rated a few column inches outside the UK as a heart-warming ‘triumph of the underdog’ story. But today it’s splashed all over the international media, including the New York Times, and why? The answer is, rather bizarrely, ‘King Richard III.’ In the first place it’s because, thanks to the discovery and re-burial of his remains in the city centre, people all over the world know about Leicester and continue to be interested in what’s happening there; and in the second place because of the almost spooky about-face in the Foxes’ fortunes since they began playing under the ‘King Power’ banner (while, ironically, York City’s Minstermen languish at the bottom of the second league).
Divine proof that Richard III is a Leicester supporter? I wouldn’t go that far – Richard may well have shared his elder brother Edward’s conviction that football was a frivolous pastime which distracted young men from the far more important pursuit of practicing with the longbow. However, I can’t help thinking there is something in it – like morale. From being the footballing face of somewhere few people outside Britain or the international Ricardian community had ever heard of, the team was catapulted into the spotlight as representatives of a city made world-famous as the last resting place of England’s last warrior king – and by God, they’ve lived up to it. Positive psychology plays a big part in winning at sport, so perhaps naming their stadium ‘King Power’ and emblazoning the words, with a crown, on their shirts was inspired: a very visible way of dinning that sense of power and pride into the players, and supporters, every time they set foot on the field.
Of course, not everyone’s pleased; the usual suspects on social media are clucking and carping about exploitation and the horrible disrespect of hanging a Leicester City scarf round the neck of Richard’s statue beside the Cathedral. I find this sad, because it strikes me as quite the opposite: an affectionate, humorous gesture showing Richard being owned and embraced by the citizens, remembered, included and identified with their victory (and I think he looks very cute in the scarf) – just as people everywhere are reminded of him every time they see an image of the King Power Stadium or the Foxes wearing those shirts. To me, it’s wonderfully positive publicity for British sport and British medieval history, a welcome antidote to all the sadness and horror of the regular news. What’s not to like? Yes, long may Leicester City’s King Power last – go, Foxes!
Leicester City have finally clinched this season’s Premiership, despite having been in a relegation place at the time of Richard’s reburial, but his sporting influence clearly hasn’t stopped there. The Tigers have reached both a domestic and a European semi-final, beating French opposition, whilst Mark Selby is the snooker World Champion again.
… the Leicestershire author and historian David Baldwin, who died from cancer earlier this month. He lectured at Leicester and Nottingham Universities but will be principally be remembered for works that included:
His biography of Richard III, which was among those suggesting (correctly) where to find Richard, although it slightly underplayed the significance of Edward IV’s bigamy.
The Lost Prince, in which he argued cogently that Richard of Eastwell was Richard of Shrewsbury, the former Duke of York.
Robin Hood: The English Outlaw Unmasked, in which he identified Hood as an adherent of Simon de Montfort, which would explain the Friar Tuck anachronism.
Henry VIII’s Last Love, about that King and Lady Katherine Willoughby.
David Baldwin’s penultimate (68th) birthday coincided with Cardinal Nichols’ ecumenical service at the start of Richard’s reburial week. His death occurred on 6 April, or 25 March (ie Lady Day and the first day of the year) under the Julian calendar.
Having enjoyed the three CD albums of songs about Richard III by The Legendary Ten Seconds (which can be bought here), I was very keen to attend when I heard there was to be a live concert by the group, who comprise Ian Churchward on lead vocals and acoustic guitar (and writer of almost all of the songs), Lord Zarquon on keyboards and Rob Bright on lead guitar. The lyrics of the songs all deal with various aspects of Richard’s life and reputation and the music is a combination of folk-rock and medieval – a perfectly unique sound. The concert was organised by the Bucks and Beds branch of the Richard III Society, so all who attended were pro-Richard. I have given links to the tracks that I could find on You Tube.
There was a modest but very appreciative audience at York House (appropriate name) in Stony Stratford (appropriate location). The performance began with the lovely song, ‘Ambion Hill’ which was inspired by a ghostly encounter experienced by Susan Lamb, one of the audience. It described someone searching for the site of the Battle of Bosworth and being ‘guided’ by a ghostly knight. This was followed by ‘Loyalty Binds Me’ which refers to the motto of Richard III and how he was true to it during his life. It has a nice rhythm and inspiring lyrics.
The third song, ‘A Herald’s Lament’, is a newer song and its lyrics were written by Sandra Heath Wilson, a Ricardian author who was also present at the gig. The words of this one are poignant and very sad and the tune is dramatic and moving. This was followed by a song I hadn’t heard before, Francis Cranley, which was inspired by the main character of The Woodville Connection, a medieval mystery novel written by another Ricardian author, Kathy Martin, also attending the evening.
‘Written At Rising’ was the next offering, based on a surviving letter from Richard to Sir John Say, requesting a loan of £100 – it is another of my favourites, maybe because it includes the line ‘right trusty and well-beloved’. ‘Tis a pity we don’t begin our letters like that any more!
The next two songs were about two other important characters from Richard’s life – ‘Lord Anthony Woodville’ and the ‘Lady Anne Neville’. The former is interesting as it uses the theory that Anthony might have had a hand in poisoning King Edward IV and the tune is fast moving and dramatic and the latter, in contrast, is very sad, dealing with the tragedies in the life of Richard’s wife and referencing the eclipse which occurred when she died.
‘The House of York’, following these, was originally titled ‘Richard of York’, and was the first ‘Richard III’ song that Ian Churchward wrote with the help of Lord Zarquon, who plays a hauntingly beautiful part on the electronic keyboard. I find the lyrics (‘Long gone to his death, long gone his dying breath, long gone the House of York…) extremely moving and the melody is lovely. Another favourite.
Then followed three songs with a more modern twist, dealing with events after Richard’s death. ‘Fellowship of the White Boar’ was the original name of the Richard III Society and tells of the principles of the Society and the struggle to counter Tudor propaganda. ‘King in the Car Park’ is about the King’s remains lying under the feet of the monks who buried him and then the modern workers who were all unaware that he was beneath them in the car park. The lyrics were written by Ian’s wife and they are brilliant (‘Car doors slamming, wet feet splashing, running across to the office door, Silent beneath them, unheeded underneath them, King Richard of England, he of the white boar.’) They bring such a vivid picture into the mind’s eye – everything normal and yet a King is right there just feet away as if waiting for the right time to return, and the music is perfect to complement the words. The third song in this modern trilogy is called ‘How Do You Rebury a King?’ and is about Richard’s re-interment and the different emotions and attitudes of the people attending.
Then there was an instrumental, ‘The Ragged Staff’ (it refers to the cognizance of Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick). It is an uplifting and upbeat melody and the three musicians’ contributions complement each other well, Lord Zarquon like a wizard of the electronic keyboards, Rob contributing skillful guitar solos and Ian himself providing the rhythm guitar part that gives the song its framework and holds it all together.
Next came a song which relates how Edward IV’s French campaign ended without a fight, as he allowed himself to be bought off by French gold. Richard was not happy about this and hence the song title ‘The Gold It Feels So Cold.’ The tune is quite fast and the lyrics move the story on at a cracking pace. I am sure Richard was, indeed, ‘thinking of Agincourt’ when they set off for France.
‘The Year of Three Kings’ recalled 1483 and each of the kings has a verse, with the chorus being suitable for audience participation, and we obliged with gusto.
The next idea was inspired by the report of a foreign courtier who visited Richard’s Court and gave a favourable report on it: ‘The Court of King Richard III’ is another great tune and the CD version has great harmonies with a female singer, Camilla Joyce.
‘Shakespeare’s Richard’ questions the portrayal of Richard that we know from the Bard, a ‘Plantagenet tragedy’.
The next one has a solemn and portentous feel, taking place on the deathbed of Edward IV, where he names Richard as ‘The Lord Protector’ and refers to Elizabeth Woodville thinking she was unable to trust him.
The lyrics of the penultimate song were not written by Ian, but Shakespeare! There are not many composers who can say they co-wrote a song with Shakespeare, so good for you, Ian! ‘Act III, Scene IV’ is the scene where there is a council meeting to arrange the King’s coronation and it has a very catchy chorus.
Last, but definitely not least, was the wonderful ‘White Surrey’ which is my absolute favourite track, and I was honoured that Ian dedicated it to me, as he knows I love it. It tells of Richard’s final heroic charge at Bosworth and the tune gradually builds the tension through the verses, ‘The medieval cannons blast at Henry Tudor’s men, Richard upon White Surrey, facing death again’, releasing it during the chorus ‘My horse, my horse, my White Surrey, for York and England my White Surrey’. The best thing is that it ends before Richard is betrayed and murdered and we are left seeing him magnificent, courageous and heroic on his noble white steed.
After the concert we had refreshments in the form of hot drinks and a wonderful cake made to the design of the white rose of York.
Kathy Martin and I had copies of our novels to sign and there was some keen interest. There was also time to catch up with old friends and meet new ones and lots of photographs were taken, some of which are reproduced here.
All in all it was a fantastic day and if anyone has the chance to catch The Legendary Ten Seconds in concert, I urge you to do so – you won’t be disappointed.
Review by Joanne Larner