Sourcing the truth: the fatal flaws of Langley’s quest

Posted on December 21, 2023December 22, 2023 By Gareth - Editor

“The Princes in the Tower” by Philippa Langley is a book with merits. But with its handling of sources, the work lets itself down and risks betraying a hidden motive. This post explores three examples of how the book uses sources unsatisfactory.

This post is a spin-off from my review/critique of the book. Please read the full review for my take on the positive aspects of the book as well as other criticisms.

Sources, particularly primary sources, are a historian’s building blocks. No, scholar, however accomplished or experienced has authority. Instead, they have authorities: the sources they bring to the table to support their arguments.

To uncover the secrets of the past, simply citing sources is not enough. We must apply due scrutiny and criticism to the evidence in our possession. Philippa Langley’s “Missing Prince’s Project” has done a first-rate job of gathering evidence. But its scrutiny of that evidence is, in my opinion, the biggest flaw in the “Princes in the Tower” book.

Here’s just three examples from the work’s earlier chapters.

Richard III’s bastard son rose to prominence during his father’s reign

1) The Lord Bastard

In Chapter 5, the author draws attention to two payment records. The first is from November 1484. The second, from March 1485. Both reference “the Lord bastard”.

The first, mentions “the Lord Bastard” travelling to Calais. Richard III’s bastard son, John of Gloucester would be made Captain of Calais a few months later. So most historians conclude that the “bastard” in question was Richard’s own, perhaps travelling to the province a few months prior to his official appointment.

The second record acknowledges payments of fine clothes to “the Lord Bastard” and takes place just a couple of days before John was formerly declared Captain of Calais. Such an occasion would warrant him being kitted out in style. It’s this likely that this record too, refers to John.

Langley rejects this view. John, she argues, was not a peer. As such he would not have been named “Lord Bastard”. Instead, she concludes that these records more likely refer to the former Edward V, labelled “Edward the bastard” in other documents. Langley states that though deprived of his throne, the boy was still regarded as Earl of March and Pembroke (possible but improbable), making the title of “Lord” appropriate.

This is an early example of the book’s source criticism falling flat on its face.

We can quickly put paid to the notion that John of Gloucester, as a non-peer, would never have been called “Lord” in administrative records. In 1472, an illegitimate son of Edward IV was described in the household accounts as “my Lord the Bastard”. It’s clearly possible that Richard’s illegitimate son was described likewise.

But even more worryingly, this approach betrays a simplistic understanding of styles of address by assuming that the title of “Lord” was used exclusively for the peerage. Greater familiarity with such records reveals that children of Royals and high-ranking noblemen were often referred to as “Lord” despite having no peerage to speak of. “Lord” and “Lady” were often the chosen forms when referring to someone of high birth who lacked any other accolade.

Such analysis puts too much pressure on the record keepers of the day. They were not heralds. Their job was to record payments and other clerical decisions. The specifics of styles and titles were not their primary concern and it’s typical to find a high degree of title variance among such sources. Royal and noble titles simply weren’t used as consistently in the 1400s as they are today. The child of a King might be referred to as a Prince/Princess or Lord/Lady depending on the author’s preference.

The Battle of Stoke was waged in the name of a Yorkist prince. But was he genuine?

2) The Lille receipt

The biggest single piece of new evidence offered in the book is a receipt for payment issued by a Burgundian administrator to a ‘maker of wooden objects’ in Malines. Dated to December 1487 (the year of the Battle of Stoke) it records payment for 400 long pikes for “lord Martin de Zwarte, a knight from Germany, to take and lead across the sea, Madam the Dowager sent at the time, together with several captains of war from England, to serve her nephew – son of King Edward, late her brother.”

This is clearly a reference to resources for the army, led by Martin Zwarte, that would ultimately combat Henry VII’s forces at Stoke Field. Earlier in 1487, the nobility of Ireland had crowned a Yorkist “King Edward”, which most sources claim was either Edward, Earl of Warwick (son of Edward IV’s brother, the Duke of Clarence) or a pretender posing as him. It was on behalf of this boy that the army marched.

The mention of the son of King Edward, suggests that the writer of the receipt believed that the boy in question was actually one of the “princes in the tower.” Langley takes this as firm evidence that at least one of the Princes survived into 1487. Given that the boy crowned in Ireland (“the Dublin King”) was frequently referred to as “King Edward”, the former Edward V is deemed the most likely candidate.

Earlier in the book, Langley notes that such administrative records are valuable. Unlike the utterings of chroniclers, they are not typically trying to make a political point. They are simply recording facts. As such, they are more likely to be free of bias and agenda.

This is certainly true. But Langley fails to mention the flip side of dealing with such sources: they are recording information for a specific, administrative purpose. They are naturally less interested in any information that is peripheral to that purpose.

In the case of this receipt, the document’s purpose is to record that the wooden pikes have been successfully shipped from A to B and that payment had been rendered. Because of the need to distinguish it from other, potentially similar shipments, such records typically contain enough detail for the context to be clear.

We need to be pragmatic with this kind of information. Were the author and witnesses of this receipts fundamentally concerned about the affairs of England? Was the finer detail of the Yorkist rebellion 1487 of pressing concern to administrators and craftsmen in Burgundy who perhaps viewed the whole affair as a side project of the dowager Duchess? Several paragraphs of the book are spent noting that “high-ranking” officials signed the receipt and would surely not have allowed such an error to pass. Once again, Langley over-estimates the interest of busy officers in such detail. After all, such errors would not have prevented a solitary receipt from serving its purpose.

Nevertheless, the source is interesting. Could it suggest that, at least in some quarters, there was an ambiguity over which Prince or nephew it was that Margaret was championing? But there’s too much to the contrary that the book fails to grapple with. Why, if it was believed in Burgundy that Margaret was championing Edward V, did the rest of Europe – all free from the influence of Henry VII – seem to believe that the boy in question was claiming to be the son of the Duke of Clarence? And, even if it does offer evidence that Margaret claimed or believed the boy to be Edward V, should we really just take it as read that she was correct or telling the truth? Given Margaret’s obvious bias in this situation such a claim should surely be subject to scrutiny.

That this reference to the “son of Edward IV” represents a simple misunderstanding by an administrator not much interested in the affairs of England, is at least as likely an explanation as any other. I also concede that it’s possible that there was some ambiguity around who Margaret was claiming to support. But this source most certainly does not “confirm that at least one of the sons of Edward IV was alive in 1487” as the book so boldly claims.

Bernard André was the tutor of Arthur, Prince of Wales

3) Bernard André

In a bid to bolster the claim that Edward V was “the Dublin King” that faced Henry VII at the Battle of Stoke, the book draws attention to an argument from Matthew Lewis. Bernard André, court poet and biographer of Henry VII notes in his account that the pretender in Ireland in 1487 was claiming to be “the son of Edward the Fourth”. Recognising that Edward V would attract more support than his cousin Warwick, the government must have twisted the story. But in a moment of madness, André let the truth slip into his work.

What this book fails to mention, however, (though Lewis does) is that Andre’s confused account claims the boy to be Richard, the younger son rather than Edward, the elder. This dilutes its usefulness as evidence of Edward V’s survival.

There are at least two possible explanations as to this mention of Edward IV’s son in Andre’s account:

Langley and Lewis are correct, and André believed that a son of Edward IV, or someone posing as one, was lurking in Ireland. But for this to be the case, the theorists are asking a lot of André. All at the same time, he has to have been trusted enough to be told the “real” story of the Battle of Stoke, but sufficiently unreliable to later forget that it was a state secret. It requires the poet to have been sharp enough to remember that a son of Edward IV was on the scene, but scatty enough to forget which son it was.
André was confusing the events of 1487 with the later campaign by Perkin Warbeck/Richard, Duke of York. After all, both campaigns began in Ireland. And in the 1490s, it certainly was the name of the younger son of Edward IV that was being bandied about.

Bernard André had served as a tutor to Arthur, Prince of Wales, Henry VII’s eldest son. When I was writing my biography of Arthur, I naturally spent a lot of time with Andre’s works. It’s important that we understand what kind of source we’re dealing with.

What survives of the poet’s biography of Henry VII (which is the source in question) is highly disorganised and clearly a draft in its early stages. He was a blind man dictating to a scribe. Frequently throughout the document, he leaves blank spaces where he can’t remember the detail, making a plan to check information and return to it later.

If André had finished his account, perhaps it would serve as a useful source. Sadly, while fascinating and bursting with potential, the version we have can rarely be relied upon. With all this in mind, isn’t it more likely that his reference to a son of Edward IV represents a confusion of the mind rather than a casual betrayal of a closely-guarded secret?

To its credit, Langley’s book references a rich range of sources. I am not as familiar with many of them as I am with André’s work or late medieval/early Tudor record keeping. But having seen the unsatisfactory treatment of the sources that I do know well, I find it difficult to put my faith in her handling of the remainder.

If this book is designed to do little more than put fuel in the fire of those who already believe in Richard III’s innocence, then it will serve its purpose. What’s such a shame, is that it has the potential to make a meaningful contribution to the scholarly debate. But with such partisan source criticism serving as a characteristic of the book, such an opportunity will quickly evaporate.

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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Why Margaret Beaufort could NOT have killed the Princes in the Tower

Posted on January 28, 2016January 28, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

I’ve always known that a handful of people judge Margaret Beaufort guilty of the death of the Princes in the Tower. But until I published my series on Richard III – and incurred the wrath of the Ricardians – I had no idea just how widespread the theory was.

Absolutely no contemporary source links Margaret to the crime. An obscure 17th century biographer attempting to redeem Richard III links the deaths to a ‘certain Countess’ (presumably of Richmond) but offers nothing by way of evidence. I can’t shake the feeling that this view is currently so popular because of the ‘White Queen’ TV series in 2013.

It is, I believe, credible to suggest that Margaret had a motive. With the sons of Edward IV out the way, nothing would stand in the way of her son making an alliance with Elizabeth of York, uniting their claim to the throne and over throwing the tyrannical Richard. But a motive is not proof. It isn’t even close.

At the heart of this debate, in my opinion, is a correct understanding of how closely guarded the Princes were. Mancini tells us that Richard dismissed the boys’ servants and drew them closer into the tower. Only Richard’s loyalist men had access to them in the context of a high security prison.

How could Margaret possibly have gained access to the Princes, even if she had wanted to? The usual arguments go like this:

She was a wealthy woman who could have bribed the guards – She was a woman of some means. But what on earth could she have given Richard’s most trusted men that would trigger abandonment of their master. Killing princes, even ones deem illegitimate, is a pretty risking business – one you would answer for with your head. I just can’t believe that you would do it under the orders of anyone but the ruler of the day.

Her husband, Lord Stanley was a mover and shaker at court – Yes he was. But it does not equate that he would have access to the Princes. He was powerful; but he was not part of Richard’s inner circle.

I’m worried about the way some people are thinking about the Wars of the Roses at the moment. I consider myself a feminist and I agree that for too long, historians neglected the powerful impact that women have made throughout the ages. But we do no favours to anyone when we try and make the facts match our values. Women were not the key players in the 15th century. Perhaps they should have been. But they weren’t.

When engaging with people on this debate, I keep hearing people argue Margaret’s guilt with lines such as ‘she was a powerful woman in a man’s world.’ Perhaps she was; but it’s disturbing that people are almost suggesting that the murder of two young boys is somehow a display of power that we feminists should be proud of.

There’s much we don’t know about Lady Margaret Beaufort. But what we do know suggests she was a kind, generous, pious, if a little austere figure. Child murder was not something that was likely to appeal to her and even if it had, she could not have had the means.

Only one man had access to the Princes – only one man can reasonably be assumed to have murdered them.

What do you think geeks? Am I underestimating Margaret’s ambition? Have I been naive to the means or access she might have had? I want to know what YOU think!

Book review: Richard III and the Princes in the Tower by Alison Weir

Posted on January 20, 2016January 22, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

In the summer of 2013 I, like the rest of the UK, was absorbed by the BBC’s White Queen. Like the rest of the UK, I fell in love with the brilliant acting, the dramatic story telling and the fact that for a precious few weeks, the things I loved were becoming main stream; people actually wanted to talk to me about the subjects I was usually told to shut up about! I even recall a fair few people at work gathering round as I drew a Plantagenet family tree on the white board!

Of course, those that made it to the end of the series (which presumably wasn’t quite so many given the BBC’s decision to axe it) were talking about one thing: who was responsible for the death of the White Queen’s sons, the legendary Princes in the Tower?

It was never something I had looked into but, based on the odd David Starkey documentary here and there, I had always thought that Richard III was the most likely candidate. But, after this documentary I realised there could be so many others; Margaret Beaufort, portrayed as such a fanatic throughout the series was most in the frame and even Anne Neville may have had blood on her hands. This was something I needed to research.

A friend recommended that I read Alison Weir’s ‘Richard III and the Princes in the Tower.’ I was so grateful he did. Because she set me straight immediately.

Not only is the book well researched, thoroughly readable and insightful, I would actually go as far to say that anyone reading it with an open mind, cannot walk away with the conclusion that anyone other than their infamous uncle, Richard III, was responsible for the death of the innocent Princes. I appreciate that’s a bold claim but, I challenge anyone (who has read it) to defy me!

The brilliance of Weir’s work is not in the unveiling of any new or profound revelation, but in its sheer simplicity. Many have said that too little is known of the late 1400s and that answers can never truly be reached. She disagrees. Instead of focusing on the absence of source material, she relentlessly peruses what is available to us today, orders it with logic and common sense and shows that the pattern of events and other contemporary comments point in one clear direction.

The book also provides a great window into the latter stages of the War of the Roses and brings to life a host of characters who each played their part in the dramatic events. Although this was actually written before the book ‘York vs Lancaster,’ I recommend reading the aforementioned first, in order to ensure you have the context front of mind.

In the opening of the book (first written in 1992), Weir remarks that when it comes to Richard III we are never likely to have more evidence at hand then we have today. Interestingly, we have of course since then made an epic discovery in the form of Richard’s remains. Every further nugget of information that has come to light since then, only backs up the author’s analysis.

No book is perfect. Every historian, however hard they try, brings some subconscious biases to the table. But having now read this book three times, and aspects of it far more, I can’t quite believe that there is even a single Ricardian left standing.

Richard III and the Princes in the Tower by Alison Weir was first published in 1992 with a revised edition published by Vintage in 2014. It is available for purchase from Amazon in ebook, paperpack and hardcover format

Richard III part 7: Conclusion

Posted on January 4, 2016January 8, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

In the past six posts I have attempted to demonstrate why I believe the circumstantial evidence and other reliable sources point firmly to the blame of Richard III who usurped his throne and killed his nephews. Now I will sum up my conclusions and look forward to the conversation that will follow. Continue reading →

Richard III part 6: Two issues that made me think twice…

Posted on January 4, 2016January 6, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

Early in my research, I started to form the view that Richard III was responsible for the death of his nephews. However, during my journey I stumbled across a couple of road blocks that gave me more than a little pause for thought. Continue reading →

Richard III part 5: MORE of less – can we trust Thomas More’s account?

Posted on January 4, 2016January 6, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

The most detailed account of Richard III’s murder of the Princes in the Tower was penned by lawyer and philosopher Thomas More c. 1515. But can his ‘History of Richard III’ be trusted and respected as a credible piece of historical research and writing? Continue reading →

Richard III part 4: Alternative theories – who else could have been responsible for the death (or rescue) of the Princes in the Tower?

Posted on January 2, 2016January 6, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

In the last blog post, I demonstrated that circumstantial evidence strongly points toward Richard’s guilt; who else could really have overcome his defences and murdered the closely guarded Princes? Nonetheless the centuries that followed have spawned countless alternative theories, some of which are worthy of examination.

Continue reading →

Richard III part 3 – a dispassionate examination of the facts

Posted on January 2, 2016January 6, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

Both unnecessary emotion and an exaggerated sense of mystery surround the question of who killed the Princes in the Tower. As such it is important to cast any misplaced sense of loyalty aside and ruthlessly examine the facts that we do know from 1483 to discover the most likely destiny of the boys – and the most probable orchestrator of it.

“No! No,” cried Philippa Langely!

It was a moment of history. The bones of Richard III were being unearthed before her very eyes. And it was almost instantly clear that he was in possession of the very curved spine that Ricardians have long argued was a Tudor invention.

Langley is an active member of the Richard III society. She is also my hero. Thanks to her stoic efforts over many years, she paved the way to the greatest historical discovery of a generation, perhaps of a lifetime.

But in her loudly expressed disbelief at what she saw, she betrayed one of the fundamental problems in the debate around Richard III. Too often people are on a quest not to unearth the truth, whatever it might be. They search for facts that will validate their theories.

This is exactly what we need to counter. This discussion throws up so much emotion, but there’s no reason it needs to. Similarly it encourages talk of a dearth of historic records (which to an extent is true), creating an impression that we can never know the truth.

It’s time to clear the fog. It’s time to leave tribalism and emotion at the door. For a minute let’s stop focusing on what we can’t know and take a minute to review what we do know.

Two accounts of Richard’s reign are rich in detail about the events of 1483. One (the Croyland Chronicle) was written by a member of his government and another (Dominic Mancini) was crafted by an Italian visitor who clearly had access to a source at court and a first-hand experience of the public reaction. Neither of these had any reason to fabricate, and although they could never have seen each other’s work, they broadly corroborate.

And it is by studying these two accounts and ruthlessly examining the events of that fateful year that we see Richard’s guilt to leap out at us, even though neither directly accuse him of the Prince’s murder.

We can, with confidence, be sure of the following:

That as soon as Richard became aware of his brother’s death, he rode to intercept the young King Edward V and had him taken into his care.
Richard arrested Lord Rivers (the young King’s uncle), Richard Grey (the King’s half-brother) and Thomas Vaughan (a close servant).
Richard illegally arrested two of Edward IV’s former supporters the Bishop of Ely and the Bishop of Rotherham and had a third, Lord Hastings executed without any trial. It was widely known that Hastings was one of three loyalist supporters of the young Edward V.
Richard and the Duke of Buckingham (his loyal supporter) moved many armed men into London.
Richard gained possession of the King’s younger brother, also called Richard (and Duke of York) even though he had fled to sanctuary with his mother. Both Royal heirs were placed into the Tower of London.
With both brothers now in the Tower, Richard dismissed the entire young King’s servants, replaced them with his own men and gradually drew them further within the Tower so that they were seen less and less each day.
In the days that followed Richard and his party began circulating rumours that Edward IV was illegitimate because of his mother’s adultery and that his children were illegitimate because he had already been pledged in marriage to another before he wed Elizabeth Woodville. They also argued that the aforementioned marriage would have been invalid at any rate because of Eilzabeth’s status as a widow and the nature of their union. Had any of these reasons been true, only one could have possibly come to Richard’s attention as a result of new information.
Richard is declared King as Richard III.
Anthony, Earl of Rivers and Richard Grey (powerful and influential uncle and half-brother to the deposed Princes) were illegally put to death without a trial. Commentators remarked that the three men who could have been the biggest support to Edward V were now dead (Hastings, Grey and Rivers),
Plots from men in the south and west began to form to liberate the princes from the Tower and to spirit their sisters to safety overseas.
The Princes were never seen again and rumours of their death began to circulate.
As Richard’s reign continued, rumours that he killed the Princes proved toxic to him; but he never produces the boys to counter them.

As such, we can be confident that at this stage the Princes were dead. Rumours of their murder were proving disastrous for Richard and driving many into the sympathies of Henry of Richmond, the remote Lancastrian claimant exiled to Brittany. To prevent this, the new King would have only needed to present his nephews for public viewing. But he didn’t.

Some would argue, of course, that the fact they were dead does not make Richard responsible for it. And it doesn’t. But when you stand back and review the chronology that I have presented above, is there really any other alternative?

All of Richard’s actions are consistent with those of a man who had set out to seize the throne and he had acted swiftly and brutally to anyone who got in his way with expressions of tyranny. He then obtained custody of both Princes and placed them entirely under his watch. Rebellions in their favour would have convinced him that his attempts to bastardise them had failed. He had the motive and means to eliminate them forever.

But surely this is all circumstantial? Even if he had usurped the throne and taken them prisoner, couldn’t someone else have been responsible for this final, must outrageous of deeds?

No, not really. Richard had his own, loyal men guarding his nephews. Only someone acting under his orders could have had access to them. And if for any reason someone else had managed to get their hands on them, he would have known about it almost straight away. It is hardly conceivable that he would have had a good enough network of spies to detect rebellions against him across the country, but would have been blind to what was happening on his own watch.

However, as I’m sure my Ricardian friends would rush to remind me, this is just one of many theories. But as we shall see in the next post, it is a theory that is far more compelling than any other on offer.

Okay geeks…over to you. Am I being too judgmental toward Richard? Are their facts from 1483 that I am failing to consider? I would love to know what YOU think!

Richard III part 2: A legitimate question – did Richard have the legal right to take the throne?

Posted on January 1, 2016January 6, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

In 1483, having already been given temporary control of the government following the death of his brother Edward IV, The Duke of Gloucester was declared King as Richard III. The argument was given that Edward’s children were the result of a bigamous marriage and therefore unable to claim the throne. But when examined in the cold light of day, can these claims really be justified?

As June 1483 dawned, Richard had assumed control of the government and the person of the King as Lord Protector. This was probably the most appropriate situation legally and – with the exception of the Woodvilles, the young King’s maternal family and their ardent supporters – most people thought it the right course of action. But as far as the council, the magnates and the people were concerned this was a temporary measure that would last until the young King’s coronation and then, in a lesser form, until he came of age. Supposedly, this too was Richard’s expectation.

But then there was a revelation; somehow Richard and his advisors stumbled across evidence that Edward IV’s marriage to Elizabeth Woodville had been invalid. Apparently – so the story goes – the late King had previously pledged to marry a woman called Eleanor Butler and consummated that betrothal. Had this happened, it would have created a valid ‘pre-contract’ which was effectively the equivalent of marriage. If true, Edward’s subsequent marriage would have been invalid and his children bastards. Bastards could not – and indeed cannot today – inherit the crown.

It was a damning accusation. Given Edward’s reputation as a womaniser it was certainly credible and helpfully for Richard, everyone involved with was now dead; it could never be disproved.

But we, removed from the situation and in the cold light of day, can be confident that it was a lie.

Firstly, the very convenience of it argues against its reliability. Why had this been discovered just when Richard was worried about his grip on power? Why had no one mentioned it in 1464 when Edward and Elizabeth married? It is understandable to think that no one would have challenged Edward when at the height of his power. But at the time of his controversial marriage there were many people – who were effectively just as powerful as him – who did not want it to happen. They would have paid handsomely for any information that would have nullified this marriage – the fact that none came forward suggests none existed.

Similarly, as the contemporary writer Dominic Mancini makes clear, this was not even Richard’s plan A. He and his supporters first put it about that Edward IV himself was illegitimate – the result of their mother’s adultery. They also argued that Edward’s marriage to Elizabeth Woodville had been invalid because of its secretive and lustful beginnings. It was a case of throwing around a few stories and seeing what stuck.

And there are other reasons that give us near-certainty that Richard himself did not truly believe the story. If he had, why on earth did he not pass it on to an ecclesiastical court who would have investigated the matter? They were the only ones that had the power to do so. He certainly had the illegitimacy of the marriage proclaimed in Parliament; but Parliament had no jurisdiction on such matters. Some have claimed that the fact Richard received universal support from the council is evidence that the tale was believed. But, through the execution of Hastings (and later of Vaughn, Grey and Rivers) without trial, Richard had made it clear to everyone exactly what happened when he heard a hint of opposition.

One near-contemporary source states that this information came from Bishop Stilton, Bishop of Bath and Wells who had apparently been the sole witness of the pre-contract between Edward and Butler. Ricardians have latched onto this to create a cunning and intelligent theory. Two weeks after the execution of George, Duke of Clarence in 1474 (who was accused of plotting against his brother, Edward IV), the Bishop was arrested and imprisoned for ‘slander of the King’. He was quickly pardoned and released. Could he, the Ricardians suggestively ask, have been involved in George’s planned rebellion? Could he have given George the information he really desired – that Edward’s marriage was invalid and that he, Clarence was heir to the throne. Knowing as he did that Clarence was in possession of such information, it is claimed, was the real reason that Edward IV finally took action against his pesky brother.

It is possible that the Bishop was involved in the pre-contract story; it is equally possible that he was an ally of George of Clarence, although neither can be proved. But, if it was Bishop Stilton that gave Richard the Butler story then we can have a high degree of certainty that it was a fabrication.

If Stilton had been the witness to the union, that is of course something that Edward IV would have remembered. And he would have known that this was a man with dangerous information; the second the King had a sense that he was going to turn against him, it would have been curtains for the Bishop. Edward may not have been blood-thirsty by nature – but he was every inch the medieval monarch. In order to secure the succession for his children he had put an old man to death, dragged distant Lancastrians out of sanctuary to be beheaded and even executed his own brother (something that would always play on his conscience). Is it really likely that he would let a man who had the potential to bring his dynasty tumbling down off with a just a warning, especially once he had demonstrated he was prepared to speak out?

As the validity of the pre-contract story crumbles around us, we have no option but to conclude that Richard seized the throne illegally. This, of course, does not automatically make him a child killer. However, every disposed monarch in history had later been murdered, meaning that many suspected the new King would soon orchestrate the death of the Princes. And as we shall see in the next post, this is exactly what Richard proceeded to do.