6 reasons why Margaret Beaufort could not have killed the Princes in the tower

Posted on July 10, 2020August 23, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

About seven years ago I started properly thinking about who killed the Princes in the Tower. I had no bias toward or against any candidate. But I quickly decided that Richard was the most likely perpetrator.

Four years ago I started blogging about my obsession and engaging with other Royal History Geeks online. I learnt how many people held Margaret Beaufort, mother of Henry VII, responsible for the murder of Edward V and his brother, Richard, Duke of York. The Tudor matriarch had never emerged as a meaningful candidate in the books and primary sources I had studied. I was soon to learn that social media follows a different set of rules to scholars.

When it comes to history, we are all entitled to our own opinions. But are we entitled to our own facts? The people we are talking about really lived. Should we make claims about their misbehaviour without robust evidence? We surely wouldn’t if these were people we actually knew.

When it comes to historical fiction, I understand that license must be taken. History is about recognising different perspectives and understanding motivations in their context. Stories must feature heroes and villains. But where things have to be invented in order to make these narratives flow, authors should be clear about what they have done.

There are a host of reasons why a link between Margaret Beaufort and the death of the Princes in the Tower should be discounted. Here are just six of them.

She didn’t have access

Before we go any further, we have to acknowledge the level of security around the Princes after Richard got his hands on both of them. He had the Princes in a high-security prison within the Tower of London. This claim is relatively uncontroversial. We can be clear on it without relying on the Tudor sources which many find so sinister.

Mancini, the Italian writer visiting London, tells us that “all the attendants who had waited upon the King [Edward V] were debarred access to him. He and his brother were withdrawn into the inner departments of the Tower proper, and day by day began to be seen more rarely behind the bars and windows, till at length they ceased to appear altogether.”

The Croyland Chronicle recounts that the Princes were put in the custody of “certain persons appointed to that purpose.” They would have been men Richard trusted greatly.

Assuming that the boys died in 1483, how would Margaret or an agent acting on her behalf have gained access to them?

2. Her husband didn’t have access

Margaret is often thought to have a co-conspirator in the form of her husband, Thomas, Lord Stanley. Proponents of this theory point out that he was the Constable of England. Surely that position would have helped him get near to the boys, wouldn’t it?

Stanley, however, was not appointed Constable of England until after the Princes were probably dead. And even if they were still alive, there is nothing to suggest that this office would have granted him proximity to them. As we have seen, the boys were not simply roaming around the tower. They had been withdrawn to an inner apartment and guarded by men close to Richard.

Stanley was not part of Richard’s inner circle. While he had been appointed to high office, this reflects that Richard needed to ensure he kept a major regional power broker on side as his reign became fractious. Bestowing such an office did not necessarily convey trust. For example, George Duke of Clarence held the similar office of Lord High Steward during a time that he was at loggerheads with his brother, Edward IV.

Margaret’s husband, Lord Stanley was not a man Richard III highly trusted

3. Margaret had nothing to offer Richard’s guards

No one’s loyalty can be guaranteed. It is sometimes said that, while the Princes were guarded by Richard’s most trusted men, perhaps Margaret could have bribed them. She was, after all, rather wealthy.

I’ve written elsewhere about the wealth of Margaret Beaufort. It was certainly substantial. But it was not enough to make her a major power broker of the realm. And what could she possibly have offered these men which would have been superior to the benefits that service to the king could bring? Besides, these men knew that if they let anything happen to the king’s nephews, under the orders of anyone but Richard, they would answer for it with their heads.

4. Richard never accused Margaret or Stanley of it

In the highly unlikely event that Margaret had gained access to the Princes and had them killed, Richard would have found out about it straight away. Wouldn’t this have been a dream come true for the king? His biggest rivals would have been eliminated. Yet, there wouldn’t have been a trace of blood on his hands. He could pin the blame on Margaret and Stanley.

5. It’s not clear that Margaret even had a motive

Once it was believed the Princes were dead, those loyal to Edward IV searched for a new champion. Margaret’s son, Henry Tudor was the man they eventually turned their attention to – on the condition that he would marry Elizabeth of York, sister of the Princes. But could such an eventuality really have been predicted? People could just have easily turned to the young earl of Warwick, the Duke of Buckingham or anyone who was free to marry Elizabeth.

To believe that Margaret could have masterminded such as set of circumstances credits her with a greater gift of prophecy than is realistic.

Richard III had the boys in a high-security prison

6. After 1485, it wouldn’t have been Margaret giving the orders

Some speculate that when Henry VII arrived in England, he found the boys in the tower and had them done away with. Was it Margaret that was whispering in his ear and persuading him to do so?

It is highly unlikely that the Princes were still alive in 1485. Had they been, surely Richard would have produced them. Doing so would split the coalition of Lancastrian remnants and Yorkist dissidents that had formed against him. However, if they had survived, and their death was ordered by Henry VII, it seems odd to lay the blame for this at Margaret’s door. Henry would have been the one to give the orders.

It is true that Henry trusted the advice of his mother. This may have been particularly the case in the early weeks of his reign as there were few in England he could trust. But to suggests that he was some kind of puppet King that allowed anyone else to pull the strings misunderstands his entire approach to kingship. Besides, even if killing the Princes was Margaret’s idea, it would have been Henry that gave the order.

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Did Henry VIII suffer from impotency?

Posted on June 27, 2020June 27, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

“Henry VIII suffered from impotency. It was s a result of obesity and other health problems in his later years.”

It’s a statement you often hear on social media. Generally it’s delivered with the confidence of a cast-iron fact.

But what evidence do we actually have to support it?

Henry experienced a number of health problems in later life

Henry’s last two wives, Kateryn Howard and Katherine Parr, almost certainly didn’t ‘enjoy’ the delights of the potent Prince that had married their namesake, Katherine of Aragon. But can we really make sweeping claims about Henry’s health without stronger source material? Many claim confidently that Henry would have suffered from type 2 diabetes and high blood pressure. While both are possible, we simply can’t diagnose at a distance of 500 years.

In truth, we probably don’t have enough information judge whether Henry suffered from impotency in his later years. But there are some valid pieces of source material and circumstantial evidence that it’s worth exploring.

Anne Boleyn: cruel gossip or unsatisfied wife?

The first piece of evidence comes from 1536 and the trial of George Boleyn, brother of Henry’s ill-fated second wife. According to Chapuys, the Imperial ambassador, during the trial, George was handed a piece of paper that contained allegations against him. Despite being instructed to digest it silently, George read the charges out loud. Among them was the accusation that he and his sister, Anne, had been heard gossiping about Henry. They had, it was claimed, been laughing about the fact that the King was struggling to perform in the bedroom.

We must be careful about this evidence. To start with Chapuys was not an eyewitness to the trial. Despite the fact that he was reporting back to his master, the emperor, he had form for reporting gossip as fact. He also may have thought the Emperor would enjoy this little dig at Henry’s potency.

Nevertheless, the ambassador would have conversed with several eyewitnesses. He was quite complimentary about George Boleyn’s defence at the trial, despite regarding all Boleyns as the enemy. In this instance, Chapuy’s words are generally seen as reliable.

Of course, the fact that George and Anne were accused of such gossip does not mean they were guilty of it. Much of the evidence levied against Anne and her ‘conspirators’ was clearly falsified. Yet, while this is not exactly robust historical analysis, what we know of George and Anne’s characters gives the story a ring of authenticity.

Whatever the truth of this tale, we simply cannot conclude that Henry was impotent from 1536 onwards. He successfully impregnated Jane Seymour. While it did take Jane six months to fall pregnant with Edward VI, it is possible that she had miscarried a child previously and was even pregnant when she and Henry married. They certainly married in haste.

The Cleves catastrophe

Henry was unable to consummate his fourth marriage but blamed the appearance of Anne of Cleves

For the next piece of evidence, we must turn the clock forward to 1540 and Henry’s disastrous marriage to Anne of Cleves. This marriage was unconsummated, and Henry confessed to his physician that he had been unable to do the deed. But he was very keen to stress that he was not in error. He had experienced two ‘nocturnal pollutions’ (i.e. wet dreams) that very night.

Here, for the first time, Henry is admitting a ‘performance’ issue. But he is also squarely making it clear that it is not his fault and that all his equipment is working as it should. Was he so alarmed by the situation he had to seek a doctor? Or was he worried word of his inadequacy would spread and sought to make a pre-emptive strike?

Henry had no issue with his sixth and final wife, Katherine Parr

The Duke of York that never appeared

In Henry’s mind, the future of the Tudor dynasty hung by the fragile thread of one little boy. He was bound to want to sire sons from his final two marriages. People expected him to do so. Yet, sons did not spring from either union.

The issue was unlikely to be with either wife. Katheryn Howard was young and healthy. Katherine Parr would conceive almost straight away once married to the virile Thomas Seymour. Something seemed to be amiss with Henry.

One explanation could be that Henry was now struggling with impotency. But it could just as easily have been declining fertility. Henry had claimed responsibility for 11 pregnancies and was almost certainly responsible for more. But even with men, fertility declines with age. His interest in Katheryn Howard suggests there was at least something sexual about their relationship.

Nevertheless, issues of sexual performance remain a possibility. And for an explanation, we might be wise to search into the soul.

Impotency can be caused by psychological as well as physiological factors. It is certainly possible to make sense of Henry’s potential problems through this lens – particularly if the problems do originate in the 1530s.

Henry had moved heaven and earth to make Anne Boleyn his own. He had gone through a traumatic separation with his first wife and become estranged from the daughter he had once loved so much. He had remade the religious and political makeup of his Kingdom by breaking with Rome. Yet, almost as soon as he married Anne she proved to be a disappointment. Could any issues with intimacy, sex and performance have resulted from such disappointment? If so, it might help explain why he came to believe there was something sinister about Anne. That she had once bewitched him. Throughout the twists and turns of the 1540s, it is most conceivable that such problems would have worsened.

We shall never know the truth. That Henry experienced issues with sexual performance is possible. That these may have been linked to type 2 diabetes, blood pressure and emotional issues all make sense. But we can’t diagnose at this distance. It is of course interesting to speculate. Let’s just ensure we maintain a degree of humility and caution when we do so.

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The Princes in the Tower: 7 arguments that suggest it was Richard wot done it

Posted on June 25, 2020June 26, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

The fate of the Princes in the Tower will probably never be definitively answered

Richard III and the fate of the princes in the tower. It’s a debate that is unlikely to be resolved to satisfaction.

Hard evidence does not exist. We don’t even know for a fact that Edward V and his brother Richard were murdered – let alone at whose hand they met their fate.

But it isn’t true that we know nothing. And what we do have – circumstantial thought it may be – strongly suggests the blame must be laid at Richard’s door.

Here are just seven reasons why.

1. You don’t need to rely on Tudor sources to conclude that Richard’s probably guilty

“Richard’s reputation has been blackened by Tudor propaganda.” It’s a statement we often hear in this debate and is a relatively superficial analysis. It prevents each source being assessed for its individual merit. But it ain’t an argument I’m gonna win with one article.

As luck would have it, I don’t need to. The evidence that points to Richard’s guilt can be found in accounts contemporaneous to his reign. Thanks to the writings of Dominic Mancini and the 3^rd continuation of the Croyland Chronicle we have a relatively robust understanding of the chain of events in 1483.

Mancini was an Italian visiting London. He had access to a source close to the Princes and was aware of what information was being put about the capital. We would be unwise to take every word he writes as fact. But the chain of events can be verified by other sources, even though none could have read Mancini’s work. His account lingered in a French library until it was discovered in 1934.

Croyland was almost certainly a state official, though not part of Richard’s inner-circle. Technically it was written in the first few months of Henry VII’s reign. However, it was written too early to be ‘infected’ by ‘Tudor propaganda’. Crucially, it contains information that Henry VII would not have wanted preserved. To dismiss it as a ‘Tudor spin’ would be absurd.

2. Richard killed the Princes most loyal supporters before declaring himself King

Richard’s army of modern-day supporters often argue that Richard’s claim to the crown – based on the supposed illegitimacy of the princes – was widely accepted by the ‘three estates’ of the realm. But surely the fact that Richard had just killed everyone that opposed him and had armies stationed outside London had something to do with that?

Without following due legal process, Richard had William Hastings, a close supporter of Edward IV murdered. He killed – without trial – the Princes’ uncle, Earl Rivers and their half-brother Richard Grey. The message was clear. Resistance to Richard would be met with fatal force.

Richard declared his nephews illegitimate. But did people really believe him?

3. The illegitimacy of the Princes was not accepted

Ricardians also argue that Richard had no motive to have the Princes killed. He had declared them illegitimate and thus they were no threat to him. But Croyland is clear that plots were forming to free them. Clearly, the story hadn’t stuck. Besides, Richard had made them illegitimate by Act of Parliament. Parliament could simply reverse that decision.

4. Richard had the Princes in a high-security prison

Mancini tells us that “all the attendants who had waited upon the King [Edward V] were debarred access to him. He and his brother were withdrawn into the inner departments of the Tower proper, and day by day began to be seen more rarely behind the bars and windows, till at length they ceased to appear altogether.”

While the Tower of London was a royal residence and not just a prison, the boys were kept to a designated area. After a certain point they were not permitted to roam

5. Richard dismissed all the Princes’ attendants and had them guarded by loyal men

Croyland tells us that the Princes were put in the custody of ‘certain persons appointed to that purpose.’ They would have been men Richard trusted greatly.

Occasionally people speculate that these men were bribed by another. But what could they have offered? What could possibly outweigh the benefits to be had from service to the King? And surely these men knew that if they let something happen to the Princes on anyone’s orders but Richard’s they would answer for it with their heads.

6. Richard never accused anyone else of killing the Princes

Richard had the boys in a high security prison. Could anyone – even Buckingham – really have gained access? If they had, Richard would have known about it straight away. Would he really have kept quiet? After all, it would have been a stroke of luck. He could make it clear the boys were dead and pin the murder on someone else. It’s telling that he never did.

7. Richard did not ‘produce’ the boys when doing so would have saved his reign

Some argue that the Princes were never killed at all. I would love to believe that, but it seems unlikely.

In 1485, Richard III faced a great threat from a strange and unlikely coalition. The remnants of Lancaster teamed up with the keenest supporters of Edward IV to topple Richard. If Richard had been able to prove that the boys were still alive, it would have split his opposition down the middle. It might even have united all Yorkist support under him.

But he didn’t. Because they were almost certainly dead.

The Tower of London was a royal residence, not just a prison. But Richard had the boys confined to inner apartments where they could not be seen

Everything I’ve said here is circumstantial. It’s not categorical proof and I accept that. Maybe it wouldn’t stand up in court. But we’re not lawyers. This isn’t a trial. As Alison Weir says, historians don’t convict beyond all reasonable doubt. They look at the evidence we have and conclude what is most likely to have happened.

So much passion surrounds this debate and it is largely counter-productive. I have no partisan bias against Richard. If new evidence comes to light I would do my best to review it with an open mind.

What puzzles me is that multitudes of Royal History Geeks feel the need to explain away the chain of events that I have outlined above. That Richard ordered the death of the Princes is not the only interpretation of the events of 1483. But surely it is the most likely? I worry that a pre-conceived idea of Richard’s character prevents people from accepting evidence for what it is. This is a dangerous way of doing history. We know so little about the hearts and minds of the people we study.

Henry VII is a king I really admire. I believe he made important shifts in the structures of government which helped pave the way for Parliamentary democracy (which is not to suggest that Henry was in any way a democrat himself). I also think that there is evidence to suggest his character was considerably less blood thirsty than kings that came before or after him.

But I must accept that overwhelming circumstantial evidence suggests that he framed and judicially murdered Edward, Earl of Warwick. The young man had spent much of his life in prison and was probably what we would today consider a vulnerable adult. Whatever Henry’s dynastic reasons for his actions, this was a terrible crime.

Nevertheless, this doesn’t take away from Henry’s achievements as king. Nor does Edward IV’s murder of the old, virtuous and mentally unstable Henry VI diminish his legacy. He showed great skill in managing the nobility and restored order to England. It does make them both three-dimensional characters that need to be studied and analysed. Admired and respected, but never worshipped and revered.

By taking the same approach with Richard, we have a chance to truly redeem his reputation. To rescue him from both his status as unreconstructed monster and revered cult figure. He can finally emerge as the bearer of the broken humanity we all share and the wielder of skills and qualities that deserve to be remembered.

While we’re talking about the Tower of London, we must remember that our wonderful Royal palaces and historical landmarks have taken a real hit during the lockdown. Let’s make sure we get visiting as soon as we’re allowed, to show them our support. Keep an eye on the Historic Royal Palaces website as I’m sure they’ll let us know when doors are open again.

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5 common ‘Royal title mistakes’ in the British media

Posted on June 19, 2020June 19, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

The rules governing the use of Royal titles are both captivating and convoluted. They have evolved over a thousand years with new protocols created to address specific situations. They are not always logical and even super-cool Royal watchers can struggle to make head and tail of them.

Those hoping to get their head around the practices and protocols, won’t get much help from the popular press. Almost every time a news outlet tries to explain how a title works, they get more wrong than right.

Here’s the top 5 errors I’ve noticed in British media in recent months.

Female-line grandchildren of a monarch do not get Royal titles

1. Princess Anne ‘chose’ not to give her children Royal titles

The use of Royal titles has been strictly governed since 1917. Legal documents regulate the usage of the style of His/Her Royal Highness and the ‘titular dignity’ of Prince or Princess. Under current laws they do not extend to female-line grandchildren of monarchs.

According to ‘letters patent’ issued in 1917 and adapted in 2013, Royal styles go the children of a sovereign, children of sons of a sovereign and the children of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales.

As such, Anne’s children, Peter and Zara Phillips were never entitled to be a Prince or Princess. It is probable that Anne’s first husband, Mark Phillips was offered an Earldom and that this was refused. Had the couple accepted, Anne’s children would have been styled as the children of an Earl, as Princess Margaret’s offspring were. So it is probable that Anne effectively turned down titles for her children – but not royal titles.

2. Kate and Meghan are not princesses because they are not blood royals

I understand where this comes from. But it’s not quite correct. Under the British system a wife takes her husband’s precedence. She is the feminine version of all her husband’s titles (there are exceptions such as in the Church and the military). So the wife of a Prince is always a Princess.

Under strict court etiquette, is not appropriate to refer to a Princess by marriage as ‘Princess Firstname.’ Catherine is ‘Princess William’ rather than ‘Princess Catherine’. Meghan is ‘Princess Henry’.

Because both their husbands are also Dukes, they are referred to as Duchesses. Whenever an individual is a peer or peeress – royal or not – first names are rarely required. Our future Queen is not ‘Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge’ but simply ‘The Duchess of Cambridge’. This can change in widowhood where it has become customary to combine first names with titles.

Catherine became a Princess the second she married the Duke of Cambridge

3. Diana was made a Princess, but Kate has yet to be so

No. Diana and Catherine both acquired the status of Princess by marriage (see above). No one has actually been ‘made a princess’ since the reign of Edward VII (although special measures were taken to ensure Anne was a Princess ahead of her mother’s ascension).

Despite being popularly referred to as ‘Princess Diana’, the late Princess of Wales was never officially styled as such. When the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge married, the Palace made it clear they were perfectly relaxed about people calling the Duchess ‘Princess Catherine’. But the style is not officially acknowledged at court.

4. William and Harry’s wives were given titles, but Eugenie’s husband was not because she is lower down the line of succession

Royal titles have little to do with place in the succession but much to do with gender.

Under the British system – and indeed most western systems – a wife takes on the style and precedence of her husband. As stated above, the current Duchesses of Cambridge and Sussex acquired their status simply by virtue of marriage. But husbands of titled women derive no style or precedence from their wives. That’s why the Duke of Edinburgh is not known as ‘King.’

In days gone by, untitled men marrying a Princess would be offered a peerage title – typically an Earldom. Their children would thus enjoy aristocratic styles. But those days are gone.

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex have agreed not to use Royal titles when working commercially

5. The Queen has removed the style ‘HRH’ from Harry and Meghan.

Not quite, though the early communication around this was confusing. The Duke and Duchess of Sussex have agreed not to use their Royal styles when conducting commercial work. We are yet to see exactly how they will style themselves on such occasions. My guess is that they will act as if they are untitled and use their peerage title as if it were a surname. So for example, if Meghan stars in a film, she might simply be credited as ‘Meghan Sussex.’

This would be consistent with what other aristocrats and Royals do. The Duchess of Kent styled herself as ‘Mrs Kent’ when working as a music teacher. The Queen’s nephew calls himself ‘David Linley’ when trading. His actual name is David Armstrong-Jones, but until his father died his courtesy title was ‘Viscount Linley.’

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Lockdown must-reads #10: The Mountbattens by Andrew Lownie

Posted on June 11, 2020June 11, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

Let’s be honest: lockdown sucks! But it does mean there’s more time for reading. Over the next couple of weeks, I will review 10 books which all Royal History Geeks should add to their reading list

I have no memory of the famous assassination of Louis ‘Dickie’ Mountbatten. It took place three years before my birth and was never something mentioned at school. Yet, growing up in a coastal city with strong naval presence, his name was one I knew well. The pub at the end of my road was even named after him.

Perhaps it was for these reasons that I decided, aged about 15, that he was my favourite minor royal of the 20^th Century. Yes, you’re right. I was a super-cool teenager.

Discovering my interest, some friends of my parents procured me a book about the late Earl when they passed a charity shop. It was a kind gesture. But the book was second hand and dusty with yellow peeling pages. More worryingly the contents were dry and – most unwelcoming to a teenager – almost entirely reverential.

Such a book could simply never do justice to the scandalous Earl Mountbatten of Burma. It certainly failed to capture the spirit of Edwina, his equally sensational Countess. And, with thanks to a dial up modem and the early days of the internet, I soon found out just how much my dusty manuscript had been missing.

‘The Mountbattens’ by Andrew Lownie is an altogether more vibrant, more honest and more satisfying account. A collective biography of the couple, it’s 388 pages explore their personal and public adventures in glorious – and occasionally graphic – detail.

The book guides us through the lives of both protagonists in parallel up until the point they meet and marry. For many Royal History Geeks, the early adventures of Dickie – or His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Battenburg, as he was known for the first 17 years of his life – will more immediately pique interest. It was he that had the royal connections and it was he that was closer to the famous events of that era that many of us will recognise.

As the narrative progresses however, Edwina and her story more than hold their own. Not one to take a back seat, the wealthy heiress never risks becoming a supporting character. The pages that explore her relationship with Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first prime minister, are among the most tantalising in the book.

The Mountbattens were at the centre of major events ranging from world wars to royal weddings. But their role in delivering the independence of India will be the one that history remembers. And their actions in this role, the ones that historians will judge. Current analysis tends to be kind to the couple. The author seems to agree.

Despite the high drama of their combined career, the book’s most intriguing pages are those that touch on the personal. I had always known that the Mountbatten’s ‘enjoyed’ an open marriage. But I’d failed to realise was that this was initially to accommodate Edwina’s desires and interests. Dickie, Lownie tell us, was hurt by his wife’s distance and adultery. It would, however, be an arrangement that the Earl would more than grow in to.

Whatever the ups and downs of their relationship, their parting was a painful one. Lownie describes Edwina’s quiet death and Dickie’s grief with perfect poignance. In contracts, Dickie’s assassination in 1979 is detailed with the drama it deserves.

The rumoured bisexuality of Louis Mountbatten is explored at length. The author seems convinced that evidence for homosexual behaviour exists and his presentation of said evidence is certainly compelling. While this is hardly likely to ruffle many feathers with the modern reader, darker accusations of under-age sexual encounters exist. The author does not dismiss them.

Throughout the book, the slow transformation of Prince Louis of Battenburg and Miss Edwina Ashley to the Earl and Countless Mountbatten of Burma is told with a pacey, compelling tone and accessible language. It is perfectly suited to those who already know much about the controversial couple and to Royal History Geeks that have never come across them before.

The Mountbattens are still figures of living memories. It is probably too early to measure their impact and assess their legacy. But as this biography shows, their marriage, lives and career contain all the necessary ingredients to establish the couple as figures of interest for future generations. Let’s hope that as tomorrow’s historians take up this mantle, they do so with the acute observations, careful analysis and skilful articulation of this biography.

The Mountbattens: Their Lives & Loves by Andrew Lownie is available from Amazon.

However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.

WATCH: Did Richard III kill the Princes in the Tower?

Posted on June 8, 2020June 8, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

People often claim that Richard’s reputation was distorted by his Tudor successors. But by examining the source material from Richard’s own time, we can be relatively clear on the events of 1483. We can make a reasonable assessment as to what happened to the Princes in the Tower.

In this video I make a couple of slip ups. I say ‘Richard II’ when I mean ‘Richard III.’ I refer to a source as the third ‘edition’ of the Croyland Chronicle rather than the third ‘continuation.’ Oh dear. It’s a good thing I’m pretty.

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6 things to remember when debating York vs Lancaster

Posted on June 6, 2020June 6, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

Being a Royal History Geek has its challenges. Our animated interest in the affairs of yesteryear can raise more than the occasional eyebrow among our friends and family. The Wars of the Roses, however, is one topic that people not quite as super-cool as us know a little bit about. Or at least, they think they do.

It’s not uncommon for the debate around who had the better claim to the throne – York or Lancaster – to come up in the mainstream media, at school or university and even down the pub.

So, next time you find yourself debating the age-old question, here’s six facts it’s worth remembering.

1. The Lancastrians were the senior heirs male of Edward III

Through John of Gaunt, Lancastrians were the heirs-male to Edward III

Richard II had the undisputed right to succeed Edward III in 1377. But once you get rid of him, the Lancastrian kings were the senior heirs male to Edward III. That means their line passed father to son to grandson, great-grandson etc in much the same way that the surname tends to. If you believed people in the 14^th and 15^th century preferred male-only succession, Lancaster are the clear winners

2. York were the senior heirs general of Edward III

Through Lionel of Antwerp, the Yorks were the heirs-general to Edward III

The house of York descended from Edward III’s second surviving son, Lionel of Antwerp. But the line passed through daughters twice before getting to Richard, Duke of York. If you believed that 14^th/15^th century folk were open to women inheriting the crown – or transmit their claim to their sons – then York come out on top.

3. Edward I may have permitted succession through the female line

Edward I may have gathered his family to read out the line of succession

Although details are a bit sketchy, it looks as if Edward I (1272-1307) was open to female succession. He seems to have told his family that the crown should pass first to his sons and their descendants, thereafter to his daughters and their descendants. This is good news for the Yorkist claim.

4. Edward III entailed succession through the male only line

Edward III imitated the trend of landowners and entailed the crown in the male line

In about 1377, Edward III left a document suggesting that descent should only be in the male-line. This is a coup for the Lancastrians. It specifically names the Duke of Lancaster and his son before the Mortimers (ancestors of the Yorks). But even more importantly, it ties into a wider trend. In the late 1300s, landowners were trying to entail their estates to male-heir only. Edward III’s decision to do the same with the crown may have been indicative of attitudes at the time.

5. Richard II may have nominated Mortimer as his heir

Richard II created confusion around who is heir was

According to the Eulogium Historium, Richard II recognised Mortimer as his heir in the parliament of 1385 or 1386. Mortimer was the grandson of Lionel of Antwerp, second son of Edward III. If true, this is good news for Yorkists. Richard, Duke of York, was Mortimer’s grandson. But historians debate whether it really happened. The official record doesn’t mention it.

6. No one cared about any of this in 1460 or 1461

28,000 men lost their lives at the battle of Towton

No one really cared whether the Duke of York or Henry VI had the best hereditary claim from Edward III. Not even Richard himself really. Lancaster were the established dynasty. Henry VI was an anointed King and the son of a great man, Henry V. The nobility was reluctant to remove Henry, despite his disastrous reign.

It was ultimately the gentry that deserted Lancaster and backed Edward IV at the battle of Towton in 1461. None of them did so because of the ’superiority’ of the Yorkist claim. They, even more than the nobility, needed stability to return to England. They knew that Henry VI was effectively out the picture. Their choice was a full-blooded Plantagenet like Edward of York or a French woman who had gained a reputation for savagery.

28,000 men lost their life at Towton. Not a single one did so to defend constitutional purity.

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Lockdown must-reads #9: Anne Boleyn: Henry VIII’s obsession by Elizabeth Norton

Posted on June 1, 2020June 1, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

May. The month of Anne Boleyn. Her arrest, trial and execution happened in such swift succession that it’s possible to mark them all in a single month.

To remember Anne this May, I decided to read about her. Anne Boleyn: Henry VIII’s obsession was this year’s choice.

The book is the first of four biographies covering wives of Henry VIII. The author has stated that each was designed to be short. They provide an overview of their respective subject’s life. True to its word, the biography is easy to read and presents a clear picture of the extraordinary life of the second Henrican Queen.

Anne’s meteoric rise, turbulent reign and dramatic downfall are well known to Tudor fans. Norton’s book sets these events in the context of Anne’s early life. By exploring her upbringing and time on the continent, the reader gets a glimpse into how Anne’s early experiences shaped her character and approach. By the time she steps onto the stage of Henry’s court, she is more French than English.

Anne’s love affair with Henry has gone down in history. But it was not the only controversial match she embroiled herself in. Her attempt to wed Percy and potential love affair with Wyatt are given the attention they deserve.

The ‘King’s Great Matter’ – his attempt to divorce his first wife and be wed to Anne – is worthy of a book of its own. However, Norton successfully summarises the key events. She grants us an insight into the motivations of the central players.

Anne’s ultimately triumphs as Queen of England but her success is short-lived. Henry’s resumption of his mistresses and her failure to make the transition from mistress to submissive wife cause cracks to appear. Against this backdrop, her early failure to produce a male heir makes her vulnerable. Within three years of her marriage, Anne becomes ‘the lady in the tower.’

Historians from previous generations have treated Anne with disdain. Perhaps in reaction, the Boleyn Queen today enjoys a cult following on social media. But Norton’s book will not satisfy those with a partisan interest. She refused to paint Anne as either tragic romantic heroine or unreconstructed villain. The author is honest about Anne’s shortcomings. But she also helps us to understand where her viciousness came from.

Those new to Tudor history will find this biography an indispensable way to familiarise themselves with Anne’s story. Old-timers like me will value it as a useful refresher. It is thoroughly researched and easy to read.

Anne Boleyn was one of the most extraordinary women to walk the green and pleasant lands of England. Perhaps no write-up can truly do her justice. But in her honest, thorough and accessible work, the author has surely been faithful to Anne’s final request. Norton has meddled with Anne’s cause and she has judged the best.

Anne Boleyn: Henry VIII’s obsession by Elizabeth Norton is available from Amazon.

However, please consider supporting your local book seller. If you are based in the UK, search for your local book seller at the Book Seller Associations website.

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What was the social standing of each of Henry’s brides?

Posted on May 28, 2020May 28, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

As a groom, Henry’s personal desirability decline dramatically during his life.

Katherine of Aragon happily married the most handsome prince in Europe. Katherine Parr reluctantly shared the bed of a morbidly obese tyrant.

But in truth, that hardly mattered. Throughout his reign, Henry’s principal offer to a bride never wavered. Marriage to him meant maximum promotion. The Queen was the first lady of the land. In Henrican England, a woman could rise no higher.

After marriage, each of Henry’s wives enjoyed the same exalted status. But their starting points differed wildly.

Henry’s wives different wildly in pedigree

How prestigious was the background of each of the six Tudor Queens? How would their status have been regarded by contemporaries? What would each of their marriage prospects have been had Henry failed to show an interest?

It’s a fascinating question. So, like all supercool people, I’ve conducted a little analysis. Here’s my stab at a pecking order.

1. Katherine of Aragon

Few could doubt that Henry’s first Queen should top the list. The daughter of the ‘Spanish Kings’ had a thoroughly royal pedigree and was related to many of Europe’s crowned heads. Through her great-grandmother, Catherine of Lancaster, she was even descended from England’s very own Edward III.

Katherine was always destined for a crown. Her parents successfully married off their many daughters to secure foreign alliances. In hindsight, it’s almost a tragedy that she didn’t end up elsewhere. She was certainly unlucky with both her English husbands.

2. Anne of Cleves

The heritage of Anne (or Anna) of Cleves is one I’d always failed to appreciate. I had casually dismissed her as the daughter of a minor German state. It wasn’t until I read the great biography by Elizabeth Norton that I realised how wrong I was. Anna’s genealogy included kings of France. She had connections to Burgundy. She was a descendent of Edward I of England.

Had Anne not come to England she would most likely have married within the Holy Roman Empire. A life as a German duchess could well have been on the cards. Through a union with Henry however, she achieved a crown. Even if only for a very brief period.

Anna of Cleves could claim descent from French and English Kings

3. Anne Boleyn

It is often said that the Boleyn’s had ‘come up’ only recently by the time Anne was one the scene. That’s partly true. But Anne was granddaughter of the duke of Norfolk. She also claimed noble heritage through her father’s side.

Three out of Anne’s four grandparents could claim to be from the nobility. Or at least, the very upper reaches of the gentry. Like all Henry’s wives, she could claim descent from Edward I.

Long before Henry ever seemed like a possibility, Anne looked set to make a great match. Her attempts to wed Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland were rebuffed. This, though, was not due to her heritage. The powerful Cardinal Wolsey intended her to marry her kinsman the Earl of Ormond to satisfy competing claims to the title. Percy certainly robustly protested that Anne was of good enough pedigree to become countess of Northumberland. It’s likely that, left to her own devises, she would have made a similar match.

Some speculate that Anne’s father, Thomas Boleyn was only raised to the peerage as Viscount Rochford and later Earl of Wiltshire because of his daughters’ ‘involvement’ with the king. In reality, his promotion to Viscount Rochford was almost certainly due to his heritage. The fact that Mary Boleyn may or may not have been the king’s mistress at this point is likely to be a coincidence.

Thomas might well have achieved an earldom even if Anne hadn’t caught the king’s eye. He did, to be frank, deserve compensation. Despite being (probably) the best candidate, he missed out on the earldom of Ormond.

4. Katheryn Howard

This list contains two controversial calls. The first is my decision to place Anne Boleyn ahead of her first-cousin Katheryn Howard.

Katheryn was a male-line descendent of the Duke of Norfolk. Her ancestry was impeccably noble and gentry on both sides. Anne was contaminated by a line which had so recently emerged from the merchant class. Katheryn was not. Through her mother’s line she could claim descent from some highly respectable baronial names. Clifford, Ferres and Beauchamp each get a name check on her family tree.

But how one’s social standing was perceived in Tudor England is difficult to judge. Particularly from this distance. As such, I’ve placed a great deal of emphasis on how likely each Queen would have been to ‘marry well’ before Henry was in the picture.

Anne was almost certainly destined for a coronet. Katheryn seemed more likely to make a modest match. Blood was important in the sixteenth century. But even then, blood wasn’t everything. Connections were powerful. The right people pushing you could make a difference.

A big part of Anne’s desirability might have been the money that Thomas Boleyn could offer as a dowry. Katheryn was from a mighty family. But her lowly position within it meant that she had little cash to bring to the table.

5. Katherine Parr

Henry’s last wife was of solidly knightly class. Her father was a significant landowner. She could claim descent from the mighty Nevilles – the family that had dominated the north in the 1400s. A descendant of Edward III through the Beaufort line, Katherine had a heritage to be proud of.

Henry VIII was Katherine’s third husband. She had already proven her worth on the marriage market. Her first marriage had been respectable. Her second, spectacular.

Katherine Parr was from a family on the fringes of the baronage

6. Jane Seymour

Jane may have been the Queen that lingered in Henry’s heart. But she was probably the humblest. I mentioned that this list contains two controversies. My decision to place Jane below Katherine Parr is the second. You could argue that there’s barely a sheet of tissue paper between them. Through her mother’s Wentworth line, Jane, like Katherine, could claim descent from Edward III.

Maybe it’s a tie. But to my eye the Parr family tree seems to more obviously resemble a family on the fringes of the baronage. As I said earlier, I’ve placed a lot of weight on the ‘pre-Henry’ marriage prospects of the ladies. Katherine was snapped up young and made two decent marriages. At 28, Jane was somewhat on the shelf. She seemed to be struggling to make a decent match.

Over to you geeks. What do you think? Have I been a bit harsh on Jane or Katheryn Howard? Are there important branches to the family tree I’m missing? I want to know what YOU think.

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WATCH: Was Anne of Cleves really that ugly?

Posted on May 17, 2020May 17, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

Henry VIII’s 4th wife has gone down in history as an ugly ‘Flanders mare.’ But is there really the evidence to back this up? Leave me a comment and let me know what you think.

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