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The Archaeological Journal up to 1963 online….

The Archaeological Journal

While searching (and searching and searching) for the inventory of the effects of Roger Mortimer, 1st Earl of March, I happened upon this great site. There are surely some gems in here for everyone. It covers the complete 120 volumes up to 1963 and I recommend it most heartily.

 

 

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

After the time of long barrenness,

God first send Anne, which signifyth grace,

In token that at her heart’s heaviness,

He as for barrenness would from them chase.

Harry, Edward, Edmund, each in his place

Succeeded; and after twain daughter came

Elizabeth and Margaret, and afterwards William.

John after William next born was,

Which both be passed to God’s grace:

George was next, and after Thomas.

Born was, which son after did pace.

By the path of death into the heavenly place

Richard liveth yet; but the last of all

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

mythnot-for-babies

More than one target for the Cairo dwellers?

21 September 1327 is the traditional date of death for Edward II at Berkeley Castle and various myths about it and his life have passed through these 690 years almost unquestioned. They are repeated by quite a few notable people without real evidence as well. If this sounds familiar, it is because certain individuals have made statements about Richard III over the years that either wasn’t based on any reliable source or contradicts the evidence that has gradually come to light thanks to the likes of Barrie Williams and John Ashdown-Hill. For some years, they have been referred to as “Cairo (or even Alexandria) dwellers”, because they are so far up the Nile.

Edward II has evidently attracted similar such posthumous adversaries – of which Channel Four’s series “Monarchy” referred to the most grisly myth of all. That this was presented by David Starkey demonstrates that both kings, and possibly several others, attract the same drastically over-simplifying detractors, whose followers appear to have closed

their minds at the age of about seven.

Here Kathryn Warner, who has gone some way towards showing Edward may well have survived his visit to Berkeley and died later elsewhere, demonstrates that a forty year-old footnote referred to a fictional part of a mis-dated document and was cited to fuel a new myth by someone either monumentally stupid OR … worse.

Similarly, here, Jacqueline Reiter shows that a book supposedly owned by John 2nd Earl of Chatham could not have been written until after his death.

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?

Annette Carson: in sympathy with King Richard

To the delight of travelers across the globe, tired of lugging all those hard-copy books on planes, trains and automobiles, Annette Carson’s Richard III The Maligned King has just been released in ebook form and can now be purchased on Amazon.com.  Along with John Ashdown-Hill, Carson is part of a new generation of historians who have pushed forward new-found information that has helped to rehabilitate Richard the Third’s reputation in the 21st century with an energy matched only by their scholarship and dogged research.

Originally published in 2008, Richard III The Maligned King is not a biography but an examination of what happened from the moment his brother, Edward IV, died to his own untimely death.  It relies almost solely on contemporary accounts and moves in a direct timeline that makes enthralling reading.  Carson displays a ready wit and is not afraid to take on the hoary myths that cling to traditional historians like Spanish moss on a crumbling hacienda.

Although busy with new projects, Carson was able to spend a few moments with The Murrey and Blue to share her thoughts on Richard the Third and her background which led her to write about the maligned king.

Can you give us a little information on your background, Annette?

Like many people of my generation (I was born in 1940 and grew up in a single-parent family) I couldn’t afford a university education.  Music ran in my family and I was guided towards the Royal College of Music but I soon knew it wasn’t for me.  I married an actor and joined the staff of RADA as Front of House Manager, and then spent the next twenty years working the entertainment industry, including spells at Equity and Thames TV.

By 1984, having been involved for ten years in the sport of aerobatics and produced a fair amount of aviation writing and journalism, I was invited to co-author a book on aerobatic technique which was well received.  I was then commissioned to write a world history of aerobatics, which kicked off my professional writing career.  I enjoy technical writing and the research that goes with it, which in this case entailed learning Russian and took me to four continents.  That book sold 14,000 copies and my next book, a biography of the rock guitarist, Jeff Beck, is still in print and has sold over 15,000.

As you can tell, I follow where my muse takes me…so when other authorial ideas didn’t take off (I was JUST beaten to the draw on a proposed biography of Alan Rickman!) it occurred to me to put my ideas about Richard III into a book.

I’d been fascinated by Richard since 1955 when I was taken to see Olivier’s film of Richard III on a school trip.  Already a great lover of Shakespeare, I had never thought to doubt his mesmerizing portrayal of villainy.  So it hit me like a thunderbolt when my teacher said that many people considered him to have been a very good king whose reputation was deliberately blackened.  I’m something of a campaigner at heart – I took a particular injustice as far as the House of Lords and the European Court of Human Rights – so from my schooldays onwards I read as much as possible to try to uncover the truth.

Can you tell us something about your research methods?

Obviously, the ideas in my book had been germinating throughout decades of reading, so I had a lot in place by the time of the first draft in about 2002.  Fortunately, many of the standard sources were in print long before the internet became the resource it is today and my research entailed mining the documents and articles referenced by writers from Paul Murray Kendall onwards.  That’s my advice to anyone wanting to delve into where our ideas about history stem from:  become a reader of footnotes!

Paul Murray Kendall’s footnotes alone are worth the price of the book and often overlooked when traditionalists criticize him.  You did not write a biography of Richard.  Why?

I specifically didn’t want to write a biography because I was interested only in certain aspects of the years 1483-1485.  I had formulated several original ideas I wanted to explore, starting with what was known of the bones discovered in the 17th century and thought to be Richard’s nephews.  A major item of interest was to visualize exactly where they were found and what the staircase was like and the terrain around that area.  For this I got plans from Historic Royal Palaces and called on expert help from a civil engineer in order to commission an illustration – the only image I know that accurately depicts the discovery site based on contemporary descriptions, aided by illustrations, surveys and plans of the Tower.  I also wanted to highlight the importance of the jaw disease of the elder skull, and how significant this would have been if it had belonged to the heir of the crown.

Another thing I was keen to research was witchcraft in England in the 15th century, something which, because it already interested me, I knew the usual run of historians got completely wrong and still do.  There were many other original ideas – too many to mention – but several have now entered the general Ricardian discourse:  e.g. my taking apart all the myth-making in Vergil like Henry Tudor’s supposed oath to marry Elizabeth and the story that her mother meekly gave him her hand thinking her sons were dead.  Until then it had always been recited as genuine ‘history’.  And then, of course, my introduction of Richard’s bride-to-be Princess Joanna of Portugal, complete with colour portrait, whose existence had been known to readers of scholarly works but only as a shadowy figure.  I still maintain (with support from Arthur Kincaid) that my reading of Elizabeth of York’s letter in the Portuguese context is the only one that satisfactorily explains what the young Elizabeth was referring to.

Joanna must be one of the most under-reported stories in the history of Richard III.  Do you consider yourself a Ricardian?

By the time I finished in 2005 I had already written 160,000 words, so you can imagine how long a biography would have been!  My overall concern was (and is) always to set 15th-century events firmly in the relevant 15th century context.

I like to call myself a Ricardian because I am in sympathy with King Richard but I have to be careful of the word these days because it’s beginning to be used to signify blinkered adulation.  As recently as last year the President of the Richard III Society used the term ‘Ricardian translation’ to mean a pro-Richard whitewash.  I have no problem with anyone who admires Richard or with novelists who fictionalize him but it’s worrying when the boundaries get blurred and even Ricardians sometimes fail to make a distinction.

Occasionally I have to check your book and other non-fiction to see whether ‘a fact’ I’m using in an argument is indeed true or was inserted in one of the many novels written about the king.  It gets confusing.

Let’s be clear that I’m all in favour of speculation, because it can open up startling new trains of thought – and the Ricardian ground is so well-trodden that any new way of looking at something can be good for broadening horizons!  It’s sad, actually, that so many readers want a book about history to be a history lesson, and so many historians want to give them precisely that, right down to psychological profiling.  Whereas my job as a non-fiction writer is to explain how few and tenuous are those things that could be deemed factual, and to offer alternative constructions to conjure with and ponder upon.  I say what I think, and what others think but I don’t tell you they are the only conclusions.

What are you working on now?

I’m afraid there won’t be any new work on Richard III.  Unfortunately, I’ve found the atmosphere around Ricardian studies growing distinctly uncongenial and egocentric, so I’ve returned to aviation.  I am presently researching a biography of a courageous young World War I pilot which I hope to be ready for his commemoration in 2018.

My last Ricardian outing is assisting Arthur Kincaid with his updated and revised edition of Sir George Buc’s History of Richard III, which involves many interesting discussions and much repeated proof-reading.  Interestingly, the reason for Dr. Kincaid’s departure from the Ricardian community thirty years ago resembles mine.  It took considerable encouragement and persuasion for him to return to Buc, and I promise that when it’s published it will contain a treasure-trove of accurate and illuminating footnote references to delve into.

So you haven’t completely moved on from the maligned king!  I look forward to being able to buy both of your new books.  Thank you so much for sharing your time with the Murrey & Blue and I hope everyone purchases this new electronic edition .

annette 3

More evidence from Bertram Fields

You may recall that, about two years ago, we published the footnotes to Bertram Fields’ Royal Blood. Now it seems that, on page 152 of the paperback edition, he has something to say about Catherine de Valois’ apparent relationship with Owain Tudor. Just like G.L.Harriss (1988) and John Ashdown-Hill (2013), he holds that they are unlikely to have been married at all.

As cited on Catherine’s Wikipedia page, despite its relevant editors being Alexandria dwellers, he wrote: “There was no proof of [the marriage] beyond Owen’s word”.[8]

 

Evidence, please?

From John-Ashdown-Hill, whose Private Life of Edward IV is published a month today:

“Can anyone find ANY CONTEMPORARY EVIDENCE to show that Edmund, Earl of Richmond, Jasper, Earl of Pembroke, or Henry VII ever used the name TUDOR?

That surname definitely was used by Owen.
For example, in 1459 Henry VI gave a commission to ‘Owin Tuder’ (CPR, 1452-1461, p. 494).

But although the indexes of the published versions of the CPR, CCR, &c, list Edmund, Jasper and Henry under that surname, I haven’t yet found one single entry which actually employs it.

SO IF YOU CAN FIND ANY EVIDENCE, PLEASE LET ME KNOW!”

An interesting view on Chronicle sources

In his excellent book The Greatest Traitor Ian Mortimer states (p.188)…’With regard to secret plots, most chronicles reflect contemporary rumour and popular opinion more closely than historical facts. To put the issue in perspective, imagine the results if several amateur historians – perhaps working in retirement homes, which monasteries sometimes were – began to write up accounts of a covert political assassination five, ten, or twenty years after the event. Imagine them trying to do the same thing in an age before literacy was common, without television, newspapers, radio or railways.’

Quite! Food for thought in a much wider context than the supposed murder of Edward II.

Parallel lives – and deaths?

Many of the facts about Anne Boleyn are well known nowadays. As the second “wife” of Henry VIII, she was beheaded for treason by adultery in 1536. Their marriage was annulled shortly before her execution but it was quite possibly bigamous anyway and invalid by affinity in that Henry had previously slept with her sister. Anne’s last request was that a swordsman be brought from Calais for the purpose and he seems to have obtained a work permit. She left Henry a daughter.

Fifteen centuries earlier, Messallina (1) was the third wife of the emperor Claudius until she too was beheaded, in 48 AD to be precise, for treason by adultery, leaving him a son and a daughter. The facts are rather more confused by the further passage of time and the sources appear to be very partial but the accusations against Messallina are more convincing. Suetonius (2) records that “… it turned out that she was not only guilty of other disgraceful crimes but had gone so far as to commit bigamy with Gaius Silius and even sign a marriage contract before witnesses so Claudius had her executed …”. Graves (3) goes into rather more detail, describing a mock divorce, a “marriage” to Silius, an attempted escape and a surrender to a group of soldiers in the Gardens of Lucullus. He also implies that Claudius’ freedman Narcissus ordered the execution, with or without the emperor’s endorsement.

In the years between these deaths, and more certainly from 400 onwards, executions by decapitation were carried out more crudely, usually with an axe. Anne Boleyn’s special request was the only prominent use of a more humane implement in the British kingdoms, except the Halifax Gibbet (c.1280-1650) and Scottish Maiden (c.1550-1710).

(1) I use this spelling because her father’s name, from which hers was derived, was Marcus Valerius Messalla Barbatus.
(2) The Twelve Caesars, Penguin Classics edition, p.203, note 26.
(3) Claudius the God. A modern novelist wouldn’t normally have such an exalted status but Graves accessed many contemporaneus sources and indeed translated (2) above.

The Tragedy of King Richard 111 (not by William Shakespeare)

 

Part 2: The hearts of men are full of fear

“ My Lord, whoever journeys to the Prince,

For God’s sake let us two not stay at home;

For by the way I’ll sort occasion

As indexed to the story we late talked of,

To part the Queens proud kindred from the Prince.”

(Shakespeare: Richard III)

“Why this it is when men are ruled by women…”

Loyaulté me lie. That is Richard Duke of Gloucester’s personal motto. It means ‘loyalty binds me’ and it was much more than a motto to duke Richard; it was a lifestyle choice. Throughout his relatively short life he displayed a rigid and remorseless dedication to the chivalric code of personal loyalty. He was loyal to those he loved, and to those who served him well. He was loyal to those he trusted regardless of the circumstances, regardless of his personal feelings and, fatally for him, regardless of the consequences.

Every schoolboy should have a hero. Richard Plantagenet’s hero was his magnificent eldest brother, Edward. In late 1460, when he was in lodging in London with his other brother George and his sister Margaret, Edward used to visit them every day. To Richard, aged just seven “…he shone with the blaze of mighty affairs and was the companion of paladins. Yet he took care to watch over his brothers and sister, regaling them with tales of his adventures, warming them with his affection and his greatness. How could there be anything better than to follow forever and to serve this wonderful brother, so splendid, so kind?[1] Yet for all his devotion and loyalty to his brother, Richard was his own man: they argued. For example, in 1475 he disliked the fact that Edward had accepted a French bribe to such an extent that he returned to England, having himself refused the French king’s bung. And then there is the question of his relationship with the Woodvilles. We need not give too much credence to the notion that he hated the queen and her relations; his loyalty to Edward would not permit that. However, I think its fair to say he disapproved of the king’s relatives by marriage. When Richard left York on about the 23 April 1483 he was still in the service of the dead king and intent on ensuring that his wishes were fulfilled. He would work dutifully toward the enthronement of his nephew king Edward V because that is what his brother expected of him; that is what he expected of himself.

A lot had happened in the two weeks between Edward’s death and Gloucester’s departure from York. Hastings was keeping him informed of events in London by letter and messengers.[2] Gloucester had been corresponding with Henry Stafford, duke of Buckingham who was in Brecon; they “… exchanged views and agreed to unite their resources…[3] Hastings was clearly aware of the Gloucester-Buckingham alliance and anticipated that they would both journey to London.[4] Finally, Gloucester had written to the king at Ludlow to arrange a rendezvous en route to London so that Gloucester and Buckingham could accompany him “…that in their company his entry to the city might be more magnificent. The king assented to this and did as they requested[5]. Gloucester’s predicament is beautifully summarized by Kendall “ Precisely what was happening in the capital he could not tell; precisely what attitude Lord Rivers and his two thousand men would take at Northampton he did not know. He did know that the authority of the protector was rightfully his, and he trusted in his abilities and the will of the realm to make good that authority. There is something at once naïve and formidable about Richard’s rigorous confidence in the face of opposition so aggressive and a political situation so complex and so explosive.”[6]

“Last night, I hear, they lay at Stony Stratford…”

The rendezvous at Northampton was a defining moment in a series of events that would lead Gloucester inexorably towards the throne. To his detractors, his actions are proof that he intended all along to usurp the throne; to his defenders, they mean the exact opposite. They are proof of a Woodville plot to ambush and kill the dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham. Given this gulf in opinion, it is all the more annoying that we have no eyewitness testimony or a trustworthy third-party report of events.   The versions subsequently published in the vernacular chronicles, in Mancini’s report and in the Crowland Chronicle are all based on hearsay. What’s more, the vernacular chronicles’ are brief and in some cases obviously inaccurate. Furthermore, the two main sources, those of Mancini and Crowland, differ significantly in their detail[7].   This makes it difficult construct a credible narrative of the sequence of events. Nevertheless, there are three things we can be sure of. First, The king did not wait for Gloucester and Buckingham at Northampton as agreed; given the context, it is understandable that the royal dukes might think that was suspicious. Second, Gloucester secured custody of the king’s person, which was the key moment in crushing the Woodville coup. Third, Gloucester arrested Rivers, Grey, Vaughan and others, and sent them to his castles in the north; his breach with the Woodville’s was now irrecoverable.

“ Those uncles that you want were dangerous…”

When Gloucester arrived at Northampton on the 29 April 1483, neither the king and his party, nor the duke of Buckingham was there to greet him. Later that day, Anthony Woodville, earl Rivers arrived and explained the King’s absence. He said that the accommodation at Northampton was insufficient for the needs of the king and his party, and those of the dukes Gloucester and Buckingham. Consequently, the king had moved on to Stony Stratford, fourteen miles closer to London. Gloucester accepted this excuse with good grace but it is certain that he was not fooled by what he regarded as Rivers’ deceit. In view of what Hastings had already told him, Gloucester most probably regarded this as a blatant attempt to prevent him from meeting the king, and part of the Woodville plot to rule through a compliant monarch.

Gloucester Buckingham and Rivers spent a convivial evening together. Later, after Rivers had retired to bed, the dukes discussed the situation: it was dangerous[8]. They were outnumbered three to one and they were no nearer meeting the king. Nevertheless, Gloucester, an able and experienced soldier, was not a man to lose his nerve or to be intimidated by the size of the ‘opposition’; he devised a good plan, relying on speed and surprise. Before dawn on the 30 April 1483, the dukes’ men surrounded Rivers’ accommodation. They disarmed his guards and posted their own. Nobody was allowed in or out. Meanwhile, they deployed men on the Stony Stratford road to prevent news of what was happening in Northampton reaching the king and his party. Rivers, on being told of this by his servants, protested but to no avail: Gloucester was in control of the situation.

Gloucester and Buckingham rode to Stony Stratford. There, they found the king and his retinue on the point of departing. Indeed, one detachment has already started for London. Dismounting, Gloucester, with his whole retinue kneeled in homage to the king.   After paying due condolence to him on the loss of his father, Gloucester explained in calm but plain terms what was happening. He told the king that some of his father’s ministers had encouraged his excesses and ruined his health. They must not be allowed to do the same thing to young Edward. Moreover, he “…accused them of conspiring his death and of preparing ambushes both in the capital and on the road, which had been revealed by their accomplices. Indeed, he said it was common knowledge that they had tried to deprive him of the office regent conveyed on him by his brother (the late king)[9]”.

Edward defended his ’friends’. He said that he was satisfied with the government his father had arranged for him; nevertheless, he was outmatched by the two dukes and had no choice but to acquiesce. Having gained control of the King, Gloucester ordered the escort of armed soldiers to disperse to their homes. His reputation as the first soldier of the realm, his calm authority and the loss of their leadership ensured that his order was obeyed; the Woodville ’army’ seems to have just turned around and gone home. Sir Richard Grey (the King’s stepbrother) and his servant Sir Thomas Vaughan were arrested, along with Rivers and some others, and sent in custody to Richard’s strongholds in the north. The king was escorted back to Northampton, where all contact was severed with his Woodville kin and his old servants.   Gloucester provided his own picked men to serve the king.

Richard’s coup at Stony Stratford was a neat mopping-up operation. He had gained custody of the kings person without bloodshed, using the minimum force to maximum effect. It could not have been handled better. For the first time, Richard had the initiative in the power struggle with the queen and her kindred. What’s more, his action to curb Woodville ambitions was popular — at least for the moment.   Lord Hastings is reputed to have boasted that the transfer of power had been achieved without so much blood as could be got from a cut finger.

After spending a few days at Northampton, tidying-up the kings affairs and writing to the Lord Mayor and Citizens of London explaining his action and assuring them of his good intentions, Richard escorted the King to London. His situation was transformed, but he still had problems. The power struggle was not over yet.

“The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind”

Most historians see only the guilty hand of Gloucester at work on the 29 and 30 April 1483. They regard his ‘ruthless seizure’ of the young king’s person as a prerequisite for his later usurpation. It is an opinion based largely on the near-contemporary hearsay accounts of what happened and the later Tudor embellishments. How anybody can be so certain of Gloucester’s motives after more than five centuries and in view of the ‘mosaic’ of conflicting and confused source material is a mystery, which is almost as baffling as the disappearance of the two princes. The conclusion that Gloucester was the villain in this power struggle seems perverse in the face of the contrasting behaviour of those involved.

The queen and her party acted provocatively, making a deliberate attempt to impose an unconstitutional regency government on the realm: by force of arms if necessary [10]. Gloucester, on the other hand, reacted with impeccable correctness. His response was loyal and measured. He affirmed his fealty to young Edward V on oath, and in a letter to the queen and the council. He made his leisurely way towards London after first hearing a requiem service in York for his brother. He was accompanied by only three hundred of his own retainers and he declined Buckingham’s pragmatic offer to bring a thousand men to the meeting at Northampton. Given that he probably knew the size of the king’s escort, his actions are hardly those of a man intent on seizing the throne. If they were, he could only hope for success without expecting it. There can be little doubt that Gloucester, supported by Buckingham, was intent on gaining control of the situation in order to ensure a constitutional settlement. However, it is irrational to conclude from those facts that Gloucester was intent on usurpation: unless, of course, one has a preconception of his male fides.

Mancini’s interpretation of the facts throughout his narrative is coloured by his assumption that Gloucester always intended to seize the throne[11]. There are also difficulties about Crowland, who had a clear prejudice against Gloucester, which may or may not be due to his unreasoning hatred of northerners[12].  Although Professor Ross assures us that modern historians discount the Tudor tradition in favour of inferring Gloucester’s “…character and motives from a close scrutiny of the events themselves, without preconception”[13], it seems obvious to me that the notion that all Gloucester’s actions were deceitful, regardless of the lack of objective evidence of his evil intent, suggests a predisposition to believe the worst of him no matter what.

The news that Richard had secured control of the King seems to have reached London sometime during the night 30 April-1 May 1483. According to Mancini: “ The unexpectedness of the event horrified everyone.   The Queen and the Marquis, who held the royal treasure, began collecting an army to defend themselves and to set free the young king from the clutches of the dukes. But when that exhorted certain nobles who had come to the city, and others, to take up arms they perceived that men’s minds were not only irresolute, but hostile to themselves. Some even said openly that it was more just and profitable that the youthful sovereign should be with his paternal uncle than with his maternal uncles uterine brothers.”

As Kendall points out, whatever men may have thought about the conflict between the queen and the, duke of Gloucester, few identified the Woodville cause with that of the young king.   In any event, the Woodville’s panicked:“ Lacking either the innocence or the courage to quietly await the king’s arrival, they could only think of flight.” These comments though harsh are probably correct. Panic or not, the Marquis of Dorset did not forget to loot the Tower of London of the king’s treasure before retreating to sanctuary[14].


[1]. Paul Murray Kendall – Richard the Third (Geo Allen and Unwin 1955) at page 38; I accept that Kendall’s flowery writing style verges on the sentimental at times, but his biography of Richard brings him alive in ways other authors cannot hope to reach)

[2]. Dominic Mancini – The Usurpation of King Richard III (AJ Armstrong editor) (Oxford 1969 edition) at pages 71-73.

[3]. Mancini at page 75; see also Armstrong’s note 43 at page 115 for a detailed discussion of how the two dukes might have corresponded.

[4]. Nicholas Pronay and John Cox (editors) – The Crowland Chronicle continuations 1459-1486 (Richard III and Yorkist History Trust 1986) at page 155.

[5]. Mancini at page 75; see also the note 44 at page 115. Armstrong’s suggestion that Rivers went considerably out of his way to rendezvous with Gloucester and Buckingham is an unproven assumption. Notwithstanding that, Charles Ross (Richard III – Yale 1999 at page 71) and Michael Hicks (Richard III -The History Press 2009 edition at pages 161 and 162) both repeat it. Stony Stratford is situated on Watling Street (now the A5 trunk road), which itself passes within about five miles of Northampton. Watling Street was then and for many years afterwards, the main route from Shropshire to London. To journey by any other route was simply impracticable for such a large party as the king’s (2000 soldiers and their impedimenta, household officials and royal servants with their impedimenta). The alternative route through Worcester and Oxford was possibly shorter but it was hardly quicker for such a large body of men and equipment. The terrain through the Mendip and Chiltern Hills is problematic and the royal ‘snake’ would have been much longer, not to mention the logistical problems.   The rendezvous at Northampton made sense for its convenience if nothing else. However, it may have suited Rivers for other reasons. If he was planning to ambush Gloucester and Buckingham, this was the place to do it. It was close to the Woodville family seat at Grafton Regis and the terrain was ideal for an ambush. The key question is: who suggested Northampton? It is not a frivolous question because what happened in Northamptonshire at the end of April 1483 is regarded as proof either of Richard’s guilty mind or of the Woodville’s guilty minds, depending on one’s point of view.

[6]. Kendall at page 165: however, he is not quite right about Gloucester’s authority as Lord Protector.   The fact is that at this stage he had no authority as Lord Protector. Under the constitutional settlement  of 1422 a king has no power to determine the governance of the realm after his death; he could suggest but not direct.

[7]. I have adopted the Mancini sequence, which though different to Crowland and some of the vernacular sources, seems more plausible to me..

[8]. We do not have the detail of this discussion or what information Buckingham had. He may, for instance, have warned Gloucester of an ambush (See Gordon Smith – Stony Stratford: the case for the prosecution R3S Bulletin, spring 2004 at pages 27-32). www.richardIII.net/http://issuu.com/richard_third/docs/2004_03_spring_bulletin?e=7156033/4522512). Smith postulates the possibility that the RV at Northampton suited Rivers because it was close to Grafton Regis, which was situated on the shortest road between Northampton and Stony Stratford. Rivers sited a deliberate ambush on that road with a view to enticing the dukes into it. However, Buckingham who was following Rivers down Watling Street realized something was wrong after he turned off for Northampton at Weedon. It soon became obvious that the king with his large escort had had continued straight on to Stony Stratford, making no attempt to visit Northampton. Buckingham warned Gloucester, who acted as he did next day. The dukes avoided the ambush by moving to Stony Stratford via Towcester and taking the king’s party by surprise from behind (Smith’s article in the R3S Bulletin has two useful diagrams which explain how the ambush was planned and how it the two dukes foiled it.).

[9]. See Mancini at page 77; it is important to point out that neither Mancini nor the author of the Crowland Chronicle accept Gloucester’s assertion of a plot against him. Both regarded the seizing of the king as part of his plan to usurp the throne at any cost. They also note that despite Gloucester’s popularity in some quarters there were people who were suspicious of his intention even at this time.

[10]. Ralph A Griffiths – The Reign of King Henry VI (Sutton Publishing 1998 edition) at pages 19-24; see also Annette Carson ‘Protector and Defensor: the constitutional position’ at www.ajcarson.co.uk (27 Apr 14). Richard duke of Gloucester’s appointment as Lord Protector was based on a constitutional precedent set in 1422 following the untimely death of Henry V. On his deathbed, the victor of Agincourt appointed his youngest brother Humphrey duke of Gloucester as virtual regent (tutelage) in England during Henry VI’s minority. However, the concept of personal rule by a regent was unknown to English constitutional practice, which owned that ‘royal authority’ can only be exercised by the monarch in person   In council and in Parliament, the lords rejected Henry’s wish on the grounds that it was ‘repugnant’ to them, and also because, as a matter of principle, a king cannot be allowed to determine the governance of the realm after his death. The solution devised was to offer duke Humphrey the post of ‘Defender of the realm and Chief Councilor to the king’. The lords made it clear that his role imported his personal attendance to the defence of the realm against external enemies or internal rebels“…but no name of tutor, lieutenant-general, nor regent nor no name that should import authority of governance of the realm.” The Lords reserved to themselves the right to govern during the king’s minority and they left the personal upbringing of the king to his mother and the royal household. Not only that, but the appointment was in the gift of the king; the Lord Defensor (which would develop into the Lord Protector) must come and go at the whim of the king/lords. Gloucester’s father Richard duke of York knew this in 1454 and 1455 during Henry VI’s incapacity. He resigned his appointment as Lord Protector as soon as he was told to. This is the role that Edward V wished his brother to take-up in 1483. A king cannot rule from the grave, so Edward could only suggest Gloucester’s appointment: he could not compel. There was nothing irregular or unconstitutional about Edward’s deathbed codicil. He was, in fact, expressing his preference for a 1422 type minority rule. The difference between 1422 and 1483 was simply this: in 1422, the lords were moved to prevent the king dead from imposing an unconstitutional settlement, which they feared opened the door for despotism; whereas, in 1483 Gloucester, supported by the anti-Woodville lords, was moved to prevent the queen and her family from imposing an unconstitutional settlement on the realm, which they too feared might lead to despotism. That was a situation that Edward IV had not anticipated. Until his appointment was confirmed by the lords in council Gloucester held no constitutional authority as Lord Protector. The other point of note is that, under the terms of his appointment, Gloucester was not the ‘protector’ of the king’s person. Ordinarily that would be left to his mother and the royal household. Though in this case, the Woodvilles’ behaviour made it impossible for the king to remain in their custody, care and control.

[11]. Mancini at page 17; in his introduction, professor Armstrong notes that Mancini showed little animus to Gloucester “…save for his assumption that the duke of Gloucester was always aiming for the throne.” Such an assumption is so prejudicial that one wonders whether Mancini’s narrative has any historical value at all. It coloured his interpretation of events throughout his account. Every good act of Gloucester’s is regarded as evidence of his deceitful, dissembling nature; every firm or decisive act is proof of his cruelty and tyranny. There are other reasons for not accepting Mancini’s account at face value. Some basic errors of chronology and geography coupled with doubts about the provenance of his sources, and his misunderstanding of the workings of Parliament all suggest that ‘ Mancini is no more reliable that More or Vergil’.

[12]. See AJ Pollard – ‘North, South and Richard III’, an article published in ‘Richard III: crown and people’ – J Petre-editor (Richard III Society 1985) at pages 349-355, for a discussion of regional friction and differences in fifteenth century England. Interestingly, the author (no Ricardian) make a good case for the notion that those people who actually knew or had served Gloucester thought well of him. This article first appeared in the ‘Ricardian’ (volume 5, number 74, Sep 1981 at pages 384-388).

[13]. Ross at page 63: I cannot agree with professor Ross. I see little evidence of objectivity in Ricardian literature generally. Ross (page 64) refers to the “…extraordinary problems of the evidence…” and especially the problem of answering the vital question: when and why did Gloucester decide to go for the throne?   If, as Ross suggests, historians really do eschew the Tudor tradition in favour judging for themselves from peoples’ actions, then there is no rational basis for disbelieving Gloucester’s bona fides; unless you have a preconception that everything he did, was in bad faith. If historians are relying on hindsight to argue that the sequence of events and their timing indicate that Gloucester must have been planning usurpation, then their logic is flawed. That argument is quite simply a non sequitur.

[14]. Kendall at pages 178-179: it seems that Sir Edward Woodville had sailed with the Royal Navy and his share of the treasure on the day before news reached London of the events at Northampton. The loss of this treasure and the Royal Navy were to significantly hamper Richards attempt to carry out the essential government of England. In particular it undermined attempts to protect the south coast from French pirates.

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