murreyandblue

A great WordPress.com site

Archive for the tag “Tower of London”

Oh where, Oh where, has Chaucer’s “Foul Oak” gone….?

 

 

The Baginton Oak, Warwickshire

According to Project Gutenberg, on 6th September 1390 Geoffrey Chaucer was mugged at a place called the Foul Oak, but not the Baginton Oak. Rather was it on what we now call the Old Kent Road but was originally the Roman Watling Street, leading out of London, on the way to Canterbury and Dover.

“….[Chaucer was] Clerk of the King’s Works at the Palace of Westminster, the Tower of London and various royal manors. In 1390 he was employed to repair St. George’s Chapel, Windsor, and to erect scaffolds at Smithfield for Richard II. and his Queen, Anne of Bohemia, for them to view a great tournament….

“….He was also appointed one of the Commission for the repair of the roadways on the banks of the river between Greenwich and Woolwich. About this time a great misfortune overtook the poet. In the pursuit of his duties,{84} with the King’s money in his purse to pay the workmen, he was robbed by highwaymen twice on the same day. The first time at Westminster of £10, and the second at Hatcham, near the ‘foul oak,’ of £9, 3s. 8d. This was a serious loss, and he was forgiven the amount by writ dated 6th January 1391….”

Well, it’s not actually known if he was robbed more than once; but he certainly was set upon near Hatcham, at a place called the Foul Oak. He was en route from Westminster to Eltham, with funds to pay for something or other – I’m not sure exactly what. He was beaten up, the money, his horses and goods taken. And if the king hadn’t absolved him by accepting his story, he’d have had to pay it all back himself!

Hatcham was a small manor on the Old Kent Road, and has now disappeared, except for a few street names,. As for the mysterious Foul Oak, well, it’s a will-o’-the-wisp! Presumably it was simply a tree, not a disreputable tavern. Whatever, it was frequented by gangs of robbers, an ‘accolade’ that in later years went to nearby Blackheath. The countryside around Hatcham, then little more than a hamlet, was wooded and not exactly highly populated. Ample opportunity for criminals to go about their business.

Medieval Robber Knights attacking a Merchant Caravan during the 12th Century, from.
‘The Illustrated History of the World’ Published by Ward; Lock & Co; 1890

Medieval Robber Knights attacking a Merchant Caravan during the 12th Century. From ‘The Illustrated History of the World’ Published by Ward; Lock & Co; 1890

I’ve looked and looked for an exact site of this famous incident, which was also notorious because in 1384 “…Nicholas Brembre, while in office as mayor of London for one day, snatched 22 people all of whom had been arrested and incarcerated in London’s Newgate prison for various offenses, some accused, some felons, and some chaplains. He took them, their arms bound, in the silence of night by force to a place called Foul Oak in Kent, and without the voice of a judge they were mercilessly allotted a capital sentence, and their blood ran in rivulets from their veins, except for one who escaped alive by means of some barely plausible excuse….” Hard to imagine Sadiq Khan resorting to such violent activities!

from British Library MS Royal 20 C VII f. 203v

Brembre was violent and corrupt, and according to Medievalists.net https://www.medievalists.net/2016/05/the-mayor-of-london-the-first-the-cursed-and-the-worst-mayor-in-londons-history/ “….seemed to have run London like medieval Tony Soprano, and in the end, made more enemies than friends, ultimately leading to his demise….”

The rebuilt Christ Church Greyfriars, by Wren, opposite St Paul’s Cathedral

 

The route Chaucer took was clearly very well trodden, not only by those on their way to Canterbury and Dover, but also to those en route for Eltham Palace. Kings, magnates and their retinues rode that way. It would have been a route well known to Richard III, and all monarchs until Eltham felt out of favour, so why has the Foul Oak disappeared from the records, except in connection with the two incidents described above? We’ve all seen maps with gallows tree clearly marked at crossroads, so why not a place were so many executions had occurred and where robber gangs were known to lurk?

So, if anyone reading this knows more about the Foul Oak and its association with the Father of English Literature, please do comment, because I’ve love to know.

 

A strange way of hinting that Richard murdered his nephews….

 

 

taken from the article mentioned below

I found this article to be rather awkward to read, due to the layout, so have extracted the part that will concern Ricardians, i.e. the ‘ghosts’ of the boys in the Tower. It’s nothing new, but I thought you might be interested.

“….Prince Edward V and Prince Richard, Duke of York, just 12 and 9 years old, were taken to the Tower of London in 1483 because King Richard III did not want his nephews to usurp him as king. ‘No one really knows what became of them, although some believe they were likely killed. Their apparitions can be spotted staring from the windows of the ghostly tower.’ According to Haunted Places in the World, ‘the princes have been spotted in the Bloody Tower wearing white nightgowns and holding hands. They never make a sound and can only be seen for a few fleeting moments before they fade into the stonework.’…”

Well as we all know, if the boys were indeed murdered in the Tower, it wasn’t Richard wot dunnit! I can think of other prime candidates, not least the usurper Henry and his mother! But the author of the article can’t resist pointing at Richard, who ‘did not want his nephews to usurp him as king’. That’s a strange way of wording it, to be sure.

This extract is obviously only part of the article. There are other ‘ghosts’ who get a mention too, so read on….

A royal doctor colludes at murder….

Yes, it’s those poor lost boys again, and maybe someone did do away with them as they slept. But who?

According to Merriam-Webster, the verb Collude means “to connive with another :  conspire, plot”. Right, that’s clear enough, so what is one to make of the following heading? A ROYAL DOCTOR COLLUDES AT MURDER – like this case?

There’s only one conclusion for me, that the doctor was involved in a murder that was covered up. Yes? Well, if there’s another interpretation, I’d like to hear it. Especially as the doctor in question is none other John Argentine, who attended the sons of the demised Edward IV in the Tower, and who, under Henry VII made all sorts of claims about young Edward V fearing for his life every morning “like a victim prepared for sacrifice, seeking remission for his sins by daily confession and penance, because he believed that death was facing him….”

Maybe it was true, the boy did so fear, and it has always been taken to imply that he feared nasty Uncle Richard’s murderous  intentions. But here’s a thought. What if Argentine himself was the one the boy feared? What if Argentine did indeed do away with him somehow? And his little brother. How very easy then for the good doctor to wring his hands and weep copious crocodile tears while laying the blame squarely at Richard III’s feet. The blame for what? Why blue bloody murder, of course. Awkward though, when he’d disposed of the bodies so well they couldn’t be produced as proof. Oh, but if enough noise was made, the story would be believed anyway, right?

As for Argentine’s motive…maybe it was pure ambition. He decided Richard wanted the inconvenient boys eliminated, and despatched them, as had the slayers of Becket at Canterbury. Despatched them in the expectation of being rewarded. Where? In the Thames? In a big pit? Who cared, all he wanted was for them to have disappeared completely. And so they did.

Then he had a shock when Richard was appalled by their disappearance (because I don’t think Richard ever had any intention of disposing of his nephews). Realising his own neck was on the block if he was found out, Argentine said nothing, but just went with the flow.

Ah, then came salvation. Richard lost at Bosworth. Maybe the Argentine career was up and running again! So he scuttled to Henry Tudor to  point a bloody finger back at Richard’s memory. “Edward V dreaded Richard, and feared for his life every single hour of every single day. As did his little brother. Poor fatherless boys…” Henry was pleased, and Argentine prospered.

Well, it’s a thought. The quoted headline above is taken from a book called Royal Poxes and Potions, the Lives of Court Physicians, Surgeons and Apothecaries by Raymond Lamont-Brown. The headline covers a small article based around Domenico Mancini’s account of his stay in England under Richard III. It clearly cites the royal doctor John Argentine as a colluder in the murders of the princes.

Well, he may have been more than a colluder, he may have been the murderer!

Or, of course, none of this happened, and the boys disappeared because Richard himself saw them to a safe place. Maybe something happened then—illness, a terrible accident, a shipwreck, whatever—and the boys did indeed disappear forever. Or maybe they were so terrified when Richard was killed, that they didn’t dare to make themselves known. They’d really have dreaded every day that their nasty brother-in-law, Henry VII, whose claim to the throne wasn’t as good as their own, would soon see they disappeared again, and this time it would be permanent.

Either way, a horrible royal murder mystery was spawned.

History Book Part Two

A press release for the follow-up to this:

History Book Part Two, February 2020.

  • Song of a metal detectorist – About Ashley Mantle’s favourite hobby.
  • A rare romance – Roger Mortimer escapes from the Tower of London and flees to France.
  • Cade’s rebellion – The rebellion of 1450.
  • De Cobham – Song for the De Cobham household Wars of the Roses reenactment group.
  • Ricardian dream – Richard III win’s the battle of Bosworth.
  • Charles Howard’s English fleet – The English fleet after the defeat of the Spanish Armada.
  • The Mayflower sets sail – The Pilgrim Fathers leave Plymouth in the Mayflower.
  • Gallants Bower – Song about the Civil War fort on the hill above Dartmouth Castle.
  • The Blenheim song – The Franco-Bavarian army is defeated in battle in August 1704.
  • James Templer’s legacy – Song about the Stover canal which was opened in 1792.
  • Sitting in a trench – Song about the First World War.
  • Wait until the harvests in – The Munich treaty peace talks are in vain.

… and here they are on You Tube …

Ian Churchward vocals, guitars, keyboards, mandola and mandolin

Lord Zarquon keyboards, bass guitar, drums and percussion

Phil Swann guitars, bouzouki and mandolin

Bridgit England vocals

Guy Bolt vocals

Jules Jones vocals

Elaine Churchward vocals

Tom Churchward harmonica

Fleur Elliott vocals

 

Recorded 2016 to 2020 in Kingsteignton, Marldon, and Torquay in South Devon.

 

Mixed and produced by Lord Zarquon.

 

Artwork by Graham Moores

 

All songs composed by Ian Churchward except:-

Cade’s Rebellion composed by Ashley Mantle and Ian Churchward

and

Gallants Bower composed by Elaine Churchward and Ian Churchward

 

Richard the Third Records catalogue number R301

 

 

 

Shadow King: the Life and Death of Henry VI


Shadow King: The Life and Death of Henry VI by Lauren Johnson

Head of Zeus Publications, 2020, paperback, 700 pages, £12.00
ISBN 978-1784-979645

<img class=”i-amphtml-intrinsic-sizer” style=”max-width: 100%; display: block !important;” role=”presentation” src=”data:;base64,” alt=”” aria-hidden=”true” />

Henry VI has gone down in history as one of England’s worst kings. Not for being cruel or despotic; on the contrary, his nature was kindly and pliant, peace-loving and deeply devout – qualities that made him likeable as a person but hopeless as a monarch, a faint wavering shadow of his shrewd, martial father. His life would have been very different, and he may have become a better ruler, had he grown to manhood under the guidance of Henry V, this perfect model of the medieval warrior-statesman. Instead, by the latter’s untimely death in 1422 with his French kingdom far from pacified, the infant Henry only received the dire legacy of an unwinnable war, and perpetual bitter conflict between members of his family over the implementation of the late king’s will and their respective powers on the minority council.

Such is the context for the opening chapters of Lauren Johnson’s sympathetic new study, which sets out to ‘explore Henry VI as an evolving individual struggling in an extraordinary situation. In short, to consider him as a man.’ Recently released in paperback, Shadow King is a handsome volume, illustrated with 24 colour plates, family trees of the Houses of Lancaster, Beaufort and York, and three helpful maps, (France 1415 – 53; Wars of the Roses battles 1455 – 71; and 15th century noble landholding in England and Wales).

The well-referenced text falls into logical sections: Henry’s minority 1422 – 37; adult rule to 1453, including his marriage to Margaret of Anjou; political and mental breakdown, culminating in his deposition by Edward IV at Towton in 1461; his fugitive years, short-lived re-adeption, and eventual fate in the Tower of London. A brief ‘Afterlife’ and epilogue conclude the sad, strange stories of this unfortunate king and his queen, followed by two appendices, ‘Where did Henry VI die?’ and ‘Key Characters’, 68 pages of notes, and an extensive bibliography of primary and secondary sources.

Stylistically, some passages read like an historical novel: ‘The inky waters of the River Thames rippled and slid beneath the wherrymen’s oars. In places the peaks of the waves glistened, light falling from the windows of Winchester Palace as bursts of laughter and music echoed out.’ (Page 45). Such imaginative touches bring the text to life for many readers, although my own preference is for Johnson’s straight prose, which I found admirably clear and refreshing. Why gild the lily?

As for content, I particularly enjoyed the first two sections. Johnson makes excellent use of some seldom-used sources to paint a convincing, detailed picture of Henry’s early life. Her exposition of the complex political situations in England and France, (riven by its own civil war between the Armagnacs and Burgundians), and the equally complex personal war between Henry’s kinsmen, is lucid and easy to follow; and she offers some perceptive analyses of the likely effects on an impressionable child of having to perform the rituals of royalty surrounded by such constant conflict and tension. Theoretically wielding absolute power but practically powerless to control his feuding councillors, it’s no wonder that Henry grew up hating discord, and wishing only to please and appease the people closest to him, emotionally or literally.

However, as the story moved into more familiar territory, I felt some disappointment. Plainly no fan of Richard, Duke of York, Johnson gives short shrift to his justifiable reasons for expecting a primary place on Henry’s council/in his confidence, and justifiable chagrin at being passed over for lesser men. York’s assumption of pre-eminence was based on his royal pedigree: descended from the second and fifth sons of Edward III via his mother and father respectively, he was one of England’s wealthiest magnates with a claim to the throne arguably stronger than Henry’s. This was not lost upon the king’s beloved Beaufort kin, a legitimated line sprung from John, Duke of Lancaster’s affair with Kathryn Swynford, who, (along with sundry other jealous rivals), persistently undermined York in Henry’s malleable affections. Had Henry managed to keep his powerful cousin on-side, the Wars of the Roses might never have happened; instead, he progressively alienated York, and wounded his pride, by showing an unfair and obvious partiality for the base-born Beauforts . It seems a shame that Johnson doesn’t extend her even-handed approach to Duke Richard, or treat him as another ‘evolving individual struggling in an extraordinary situation’ who, no less than Henry VI, deserves to be viewed ‘as a man’ trying to do his best for his country, his family and himself.

I was also disappointed by the brief, conventional accounts of the battles of Wakefield and Towton, the great Lancastrian victory followed shortly by the catastrophic defeat which cost Henry his crown, changing his life – and the course of English history – forever. In a work of this magnitude, it’s inevitable that some areas will be less well researched than others; nonetheless, for such a crucial episode, it was frustrating to see some old Wakefield myths perpetuated and enlarged. Like other commentators unfamiliar with the place, Johnson describes Sandal Castle as ‘majestic’ when, as castles go, it’s quite small (Sandal would fit inside the truly majestic Pontefract Castle several times over) and utilitarian. Interestingly, the ‘meagre’ household expenditure of £4 6s 7d for the Christmas – New Year period is cited to show that the castle was poorly provisioned, whereas to me it says precisely the opposite: it was already so well provisioned that little further spending was required. (I say ‘little,’ but the sum in question represents around 18 months – three years’ pay for a labourer, or six months’ pay for a liveried archer – it’s all relative!). This debatable interpretation is then used to present a version of the battle of Wakefield which simply doesn’t make sense: York, Salisbury, Rutland and their men, driven by hunger to hunt in the deer-park ‘north of the River Calder,’ ambushed by the Lancastrian army and slaughtered. Said deer park wasn’t just north of the river – it was the Outwood, some three miles north of Sandal and two miles north of Wakefield city, with its chantry chapel of St Mary perched on the Calder bridge; an unnecessarily long way to go when Sandal Castle had its own deer-park to the south, literally on its threshold, and miles of nearby river for fishing and wild-fowl hunting. (For my personal take on the battle, see this article ) I also found her treatment of Towton somewhat superficial, and lacking reference to more recent studies such as those by George Goodwin and Tim Sutherland.

Suffice to say, if I wasn’t such a pro-Yorkist anorak about this period in Wars of the Roses history, these criticisms wouldn’t have occurred, and I would have read the whole book with the same relish as I devoured the earlier sections! So, on the whole, I’m happy to recommend Shadow King as a worthwhile read, an enthralling tragedy which left me moved and thoughtful, and which will make a valuable addition to my bookshelves.

WADDINGTON HALL – REFUGE FOR HENRY VI

UPDATED POST @ sparkypus.com A Medieval Potpourri https://sparkypus.com/2020/06/20/waddington-hall-refuge-for-henry-vi/

18260754-0-image-a-14_1568045678655.jpg

Gateway,_Waddington_Hall.jpg

 THE GATEWAY HAS A CARVING OF A HAND CARRYING A LANCE AND BATTLE AXE WITH THE INSCRIPTION “I WILL RAISE UP HIS RUINS, I WILL BUILD IT AS IN THE DAYS OF OLD”

image.png

Waddington Hall, another one time refuge for Henry VI after the battle of Hexham, 1464,  is up for sale.  Parts of this beautiful house dates from the eleventh and thirteen centuries with a room named after its royal guest,  ‘King Henry’s Chamber’.  Whether this is the very room where Henry stayed for 12 months before being rumbled is anyone’s guess but stay  at the Hall he did, until one day, just about to sit down to dinner he was taken by surprise by an armed  raid on the house who arrived with the intention  of taking him prisoner.   He managed to escape,  yet again, but did not remain at large for long before his capture and removal to London where he was met at Islington by Warwick the Kingmaker who escorted him to The Tower. The rest is history.

The Hall is for sale to anyone who can afford the 4 million pounds price tag.  Please form an orderly queue here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A secret passage beneath York’s Guildhall….

 

“….The 15th-century Guildhall [in York] was built over a medieval road that led to and from the Ouse wharves. Common Hall Lane remains beneath the building as an enclosed passageway prone to flooding, but historians believe it was laid on top of what was originally a Roman route….”

How intriguing. As indicated in the image above, the entrance to the passage can be seen just above the level of the Ouse. It makes me think of Traitor’s Gate at the Tower of London…although loads of stone were probably brought in York, not ne’er-do-wells Anyway, Historic England want it to be opened up in the forthcoming restoration of the Guildhall.

To read more about it, go to this Yorkshire Post article.

THE ANCIENT DOORS OF ENGLAND.

UPDATED POST ON sparkypus.com A Medieval Potpourri https://sparkypus.com/2020/05/14/the-ancient-doors-of-old-england/

IMG_5945.jpgENGLAND’S OLDEST DOOR – TO BE FOUND IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY OPENING ON TO THE CHAPTER HOUSE.  

Are doors not fascinating?   If somewhere you haven’t been before, do you like me, always wonder what’s on the other side?  Of course if the door is ancient even more so.  The above is the oldest door in England and it was once thought the remnants of hide on the door were from some unfortunate soul  who had been flayed.  As it turns out recent investigation has proven its animal hide.  Oh the relief.

IMG_5948 2.jpg

An intriguing door beckons at the top of a flight of worn steps at Wells Cathedral.

IMG_5949.jpg

image.png

More gems from Wells Cathedral..

Little_Ease_01.jpg

unknown-1.jpeg

‘ENTER ME IF YOU DARE’..Old photos of the doors of the cell known as “Little Ease’ in the Tower of London..

IMG_5962.jpg

Another old photo of an equally forbidding doorway in the Tower..

image.png

The Sacristy door from Tewkesbury Abbey has a terrible tale to tell.  It is covered with remnants of horse armour recovered  from the Battle of Tewkesbury…

image.pngWe are fortunate so many ancient doors have survived in churches..such as this example in St Edward’s Church, Stow on the Wold, Gloucestershire.

image.png

Bodiam Castle, Sussex.  Two for the price of one!

image.png

The details around a door could be wonderful.  I have not been able to trace anything more  about this door/carving other than it is from an old Manor House.  Who could resist a peep inside those doors..?  Photo taken approx 1880.

IMG_5954.jpgIMG_5953.jpg

Two doors from Rochester, the second one known as the “Gandalf’ door and thought to be just 30 years younger than the oldest door at Westminster Abbey (see above) – well whats in a decade or two?

IMG_5958.jpg

OLD HALL, LAVENHAM.  TIMBERFRAMED AND BUILT IN THE 1390s.

Some doors, as above, have survived in more humbler buildings and can still be come across today…..just waiting  for someone to give them a gentle push open and wander in.

NEW BONES FROM THE TOWER–HOW LONG BEFORE THEY BLAME RICHARD FOR THESE TOO?

Recently, archaeologists working at the Tower of London discovered the remains of two people, an adult woman age 35-45 and a child of about seven. Proper modern carbon dating has taken place and it is determined that the pair are from between 1450-1550. Osteological examination shows no signs of trauma on the bones, although the woman had spinal arthritis. Neither of them were particularly well-nourished and showed signs of having suffered illness during their lives.

I was most pleased to find out about this discovery, as it is another bit of proof that the Tower, a site occupied since before the Roman era, is full of human remains from a multitude of periods, and therefore identification of the ‘Bones in the Urn’ at Westminster as the ‘Princes in the Tower’ is extremely unsafe-in fact, highly unlikely. I have had circular arguments recently with certain hard-headed folk who  still cannot believe that it is, in fact, VERY common to find pre-modern human skeletons anywhere in the U.K. (As example, the housing estate next to me is on a Roman cemetery which in turn overlies a Bronze Age one with burials stretching back over a period of 1000 years. There is a dead Beaker Era man still lying under the local tennis court!))

The new finds at the Tower not only are welcome because they show that burials within the bailey were common but because they also show that there was a substantial number of ordinary people who lived, worked and died (of natural causes) within the castle precinct.

Another frequent argument Denialists seems to occasionally put forth is that  there were hardly any people living there in 1483, other than Richard and the Princes! Yes, folks, some people seriously believe no one lived in the Tower at all at that time,  save wicked Uncle  Richard, waving a set of jangling keys  (the only set of course), as he slips past zombified guards to guide such improbable characters as ‘Black Will Slaughter’ to smother the Princes….

In fact, there was a household of some 150 people at the Tower in Richard’s day and a number of people with access to the various important areas,  which makes the story of the Princes’ supposed burial even more silly–as there is no way a few men could dig a ten foot hole UNDER a staircase, deposit two bodies, block the shaft with stones and not have someone out of 150 people notice a thing!

Of course, no doubt there are some out there this very minute trying to work this new archaeological discovery into Richard’s story, doing mental gymnastics as to how they can find him responsible for these two new sets of remains! I can just imagine how it might go–Hmmm, let me see–do we really know what happened to “Jane Shore“? Could it be a cast-off mistress and child (one of the improbable seven proposed by Alison Weir)? Or is the child really one of the “Princes” (one of, oh, at least five so far.) Maybe Richard really killed Edward of Warwick too, making that nice Henry Tudor completely blameless in his murder! Maybe the woman is Queen Anne who he poisoned (hence the ill health) and he really dumped her here and never buried her in Westminster at all! Or,  maybe the female is just another of Richard’s ‘many victims’ since he got the taste for blood at St Alban’s (aged 3) but one who had a sex change! 

(OK, the last is completely and deliberately preposterous, even for a Denialist, but you get my drift.)

Heh, if I was of the same bent, maybe I would start putting it about that the child was poor Henry Pole the Younger, who was locked away in the Tower in 1538 and never seen again. He was of royal descent, being the grandson of Margaret Pole, daughter  of George of Clarence, but for some reason he never gets as much, or rather, any sympathy, unlike the Princes with their maudlin Millais painting (one figure of which was modelled on a young girl–an interesting coincidence, as there is, in fact, some fairly compelling evidence that one of the sets of  the Bones in the Urn DOES have  female characteristics. But only DNA testing can tell the sex of juveniles for certain, and it is unlikely we’ll ever get to test those bones; a great pity as the MTDNA line from Elizabeth Woodville was finally traced by the late John Ashdown-Hill.) 

Of course, Henry Pole the Younger was not seven when he vanished, he was a teenager, so the newly-discovered child is not him (and one article says the new juvenile may be female too), but believing these bones to be Henry’s would only  be slightly more ludicrous than wholeheartedly believing that undated, unsexed remains from under a stone stair, ten feet down into the Roman layer, near several graveyards, mixed with animal bones, with no verification as to exactly where/how they were found since they were discovered in the reign of Charles II, are Edward V and Richard of Shrewsbury.

Two articles on the latest finds are below:

New Bones Found at The Tower

Live Science article Bones in the Tower

Plus ca change …

Here is an Evening Standard article about Clauvino da Silva (left), a Brazillian gang leader who tried to escape from prison disguised as his own daughter, but his “feminine walk” was unconvincing and he didn’t leave the prison. He seems to have hanged himself the following day.

Things turned out differently for William Maxwell, the 5th Earl of Nithsdale, who proclaimed James “VIII/III” at Dumfries and Jedburgh but was captured at the Battle of Preston in 1715 and sentenced to death by beheading, to be carried out on 24 February. With the help of his weeping Countess, he escaped from the Tower disguised as her equally lachrymose maid, the day before his execution had been set. Both lived on in Rome, he until 1744 and she until 1749.

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: