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.

4 arguments that Richard III invented the pre-contract story

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

Did Richard believe his nephews were illegitimate?

The mystery surrounding the fate and probable murder of the Princes in the Tower has preoccupied historians for over 500 years. Rumours that they had been put to death on the orders of their uncle, the newly anointed Richard III, destabilised his reign and ultimately contributed to his brutal end on Bosworth Field.

This is not the place to re-run those arguments. I have blogged about them separately.

Today, we look at a different question. When Richard allowed the boys to be declared illegitimate and took the throne for himself, was he acting out of ruthless self-interest? Or did he have genuine grounds to believe that his nephews were not the lawfully begotten children of his brother, Edward IV?

According to supporters of Richard III, Edward V and his brother, Richard, Duke of York were illegitimate. Their parents had never been lawfully married. Before marrying their mother, Elizabeth Wydeville, Edward IV had pre-contracted himself (a kind of informal, but legally binding, marriage) to Lady Eleanor Talbot, daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury.

This question is separate from the debate around whether Richard had his nephews put to death. It is quite possible to believe that he seized the throne illegally, but never took it upon himself to eliminate the Princes. Some historians, conversely, believe that he was within his rights to declare himself King, but still decided to eliminate rival blood.

Nevertheless, our understanding of this question frames the tone for the rest of the debate. Those that view him as a reluctant King, dragged to power for the good of the nation are less likely to deem him capable of child murder. Historians that judge he usurped the right of the nephews he should have protected, are more prepared to recognise his ruthless streak.

But this question must be looked at in isolation. Each of the arguments should be assessed on their own merits. Doing so, has led me to a clear conclusion: that there is every reason to believe the pre-contract story is a complete invention. Here’s just four of them.

No one challenged Edward IV about a pre-contract at the time of his marriage

1.The convenience of the timing

The story emerged at a very convenient time. Why had no one mentioned it in 1464 when Edward and Elizabeth married? It is understandable that no one would have challenged Edward 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 were shocked and appalled. They would have paid handsomely for any information to nullify the Wydeville marriage. The fact that none came forward suggests none existed.

2. Richard and his supporters tried other ways of discrediting the Princes first

It is clear from the contemporary writings of Dominic Mancini that 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 Wydeville had been invalid because of its secretive and lustful beginnings. It was a case of throwing around a few stories and seeing what stuck.

Third time lucky? Richard had tried two other ways of discrediting the Princes

3. If Richard had really believed it, he would have had it tried in an ecclesiastical court

Richard couldn’t have truly believed the pre-contract 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 universal support Richard received 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 people opposed him.

4. If it were true, Edward IV would obviously have known about it. Wouldn’t he have taken greater steps to protect his heirs from those ‘in the know’?

The continental writer, Philippe de Commines, claimed that Edward IV’s pre-contract to Talbot was witnessed by Bishop Stillington. The prelate supplied the information to Richard and had previously made it known to George, Duke of Clarence, the ill-fated brother of the two Yorkist Kings.

Supporters of this theory point to a possible association between Stillington and Clarence. They highlight the fact that the Bishop spent a few weeks in prison around the time of Clarence’s execution. But would the ruthless Edward IV really have killed his own brother but let Stillington, the man with the supposed knowledge to destroy his dynasty, off with a warning? Suggestive as the string of circumstances might be, it simply doesn’t stack up.

Richard and his supporters believed he should be King. Perhaps some of his reasons were noble. In reality, I suspect it was just the best reaction they could make to the fast-moving events of 1483. Once they had decided that Richard’s kingship was the best possible outcome, a legal pre-text had to be found.

Discrediting Edward IV’s legitimacy was tried. Critiquing the – perfectly legal – way the Wydeville wedding took place was attempted. But ultimately neither could be substantiated.

The pre-contract story had a hint of credibility. Edward IV’s licentiousness was well known. With all the parties dead, it could never be disproved. In other words, the shoe seemed to fit.

It was a cunning and shrewd invention. But it simply doesn’t stand up to scrutiny. As the validity of the pre-contract story crumbles around us, we have no option but to conclude that Richard seized the throne illegally.

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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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Friends, rivals, enemies? The relationship between Margaret Beaufort and Elizabeth Woodville

Posted on May 14, 2017April 24, 2020 By Gareth - Editor

With the ‘White Princess’ currently broadcasting in America it’s important to take a more balanced look at the relationship between the so called ‘Red Queen’ and ‘White Queen.’

Being UK based I haven’t actually seen the ‘White Princess’ so I’m basing any comments on the book and what American friends have reported.

Sorry about the length and quality. Am working on my skills!

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The Tudors didn’t destroy Richard’s reputation – he did that himself!

Posted on January 29, 2017January 29, 2017 By Gareth - Editor

People have been asking me recently what I think about historical fiction. I assume what they mean by that is ‘how much does it matter whether fiction based on history actually follows the facts.’

And my answer? Not much. Personally, I much prefer fiction that sticks as closely to the available facts as possible while adding some snap, crackle and pop where it’s needed. Philippa Gregory and last year’s ‘Victoria’ series just about got it right for me. But ultimately if something is labelled fiction than that’s exactly how it should be treated. Readers and watchers should not assume they are getting the factual truth and if they do, that is not the fault of novelists or TV producers.

But there is a genre of history that worries me much more. The 1 hour documentary. I understand – and accept – that things need to be simplified for TV. I recognise that there has to be different entry points for varying levels of knowledge and interest and many of my curiosities were sparked through this very medium. However, I am getting a little fed up with the huge oversimplifications that have been transmitted through our TV screens in the last year or so which make a big impact on popular understandings of the historic debate.

Lucy Worsley’s ‘History’s Biggest Fibs’ got me a bit riled on Thursday night. While I did really enjoy much of it, the assertion that the ‘Wars of the Roses’ was a Tudor myth and that Richard III’s name was blackened by his successors, drove me crazy.

I’ve blogged previously about the Wars of the Roses, but can I please just but in a plea for sanity when it comes to the accusation that the Tudors led some kind of deliberate propaganda campaign to tarnish the previously saintly reputation of the last Plantagenet King.

File:Henry7England.jpg

Of course Tudor writers would have been mindful of the need to please the new dynasty and this would have been reflected in their writing. As Worsley notes, John Rouse’s work is a perfect example of this – he was complimentary about Richard in his life time but negative about him once Henry Tudor came to power.

However we now know that things once believed to be a Tudor invention have turned out to be true. Richard’s curved spine, so often dismissed as Tudor spin has been established as fact.

The account of Dominic Mancini – dated 1483, two years before the Tudors took over – makes it clear that people strongly suspected Richard in his own lifetime of usurping the throne and doing away with the Princes.

Of course Richard’s reputation suffered under his successors. Things rooted in truth were exaggerated and he was not treated with a sense of balance and objectivity. But the beginnings of his huge unpopularity and the link to the crimes many hold him responsible for, can clearly be found in his own reign and lifetime.

How the ‘White Queen’ got Margaret Beaufort so, so wrong…

Posted on November 15, 2016November 16, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

As I trawled through my Google analytics the other day, I noticed that my post on the ‘Three things the White Queen Got Wrong’ was one of the highest read so far. In fact, with the exception of anything about Prince Harry, the Wars of the Roses is easily the most popular topic. Clearly the hit BBC series had something to do with that.

And for the most part, I’m a fan. I’m relatively relaxed about the fact that historical fiction needs to take twists and turns that cause it to differ from the facts. Obviously I wish that people would channel their new found interest into checking out an actual history book, but the fact that they don’t isn’t the fault of fiction writers or TV producers.

But it’s the Margaret Beaufort stuff that still bothers me. I know, I know – I’ve blogged about this before. However, the more I get into engaging with the historical community on Twitter (which I love by the way) the more I realise that some stuff still needs to be said.

For me, it isn’t the fact that the White Queen series has got facts about Margaret’s life wrong. These things happen and actually the Philippa Gregory book of ‘The Red Queen’ is chronologically very accurate (and btw, an excellent read). It’s the fact that her portrayal on the series – and how she is presented in other formats – has totally skewed perceptions of her. This has now reached such an extent that back in 2013, the BBC history website (which many might understandably view as a respectable source) actually listed Margaret as a potential killer of the Princes in the Tower – almost as if the case against her was as strong of that against Richard III.

Anyway, I’m getting toward the end of my rant. What I want to do quickly, is just list three things I believe about Margaret which the White Queen TV series entirely failed to capture:

She had a sense of humour – Okay, so she didn’t exactly leave behind a collection of published jokes in her (for the time) quite extensive collection of books, but that doesn’t mean she was all work and no fun. There is evidence of her sharing jokes with servants and making humorous remarks in correspondence. Her household was remembered as a happy place to be.
She was a pragmatist – I really did not like the Lancastrian fanatic that was presented in the White Queen. Yes, she knew where her deep loyalties lay but she was as happy as most people of the era to play the game. When she needed to be loyal to the Yorkist Edward IV (who she was actually genetically more closely related to than she was Lancaster’s Henry VI) then loyal she was.
She was quite a good wife – Margaret’s second husband, Sir Henry Stafford, was presented in the series as a loyal and long suffering spouse to the cold and aggressive Margaret. Despite being only fifteen when she married the thirty-something year old, there is much evidence that their wedding was warm and happy. Its childlessness is probably better explained by the damage caused by the birth of Henry VII (when Margaret was just 13) rather than any sexual frigidity on her part.

Rant over for now. But one day, I would love to see a novel and TV series that present the warmer, practical and realistic Margaret that I have been privileged to get to know through study.

Was Edward IV a usurper?

Posted on September 15, 2016September 15, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

Image result for edward iv

I stumbled across something interesting the other day. For some reason, I was checking out the Wikipedia entry on ‘usurpers of the English throne’ (we’ve all done it) and discovered that it features a list of those who had seized the crown. As you can imagine, it was an exciting moment!

But it was also a moment that triggered a surge of indignation in my usually placid personality. For while Henry IV, the first Lancastrian King had made his way onto the list, Edward IV of the House of York was strangely absent.

Before this spirals into a whole Lancaster vs York partisan thing, let me be clear: I fully accept that Henry IV deserves his place on the list. Even though his bid to seize the throne was initially fairly popular and despite propagandist claims that his cousin Richard II ‘agreed’ to the new arrangement, there can be no doubt that Henry of Bolingbroke was a usurper. Richard II was clearly forced off the throne and even if he had died or surrendered it willingly, there was arguably another with a better claim.

But excluding Edward IV, who seized the throne from the Lancastrians in 1461, really got my goat.

Although the authors of the page do not present a reason for their spurious (yes, I said it – spurious) decision, it’s not hard to guess where they’re coming from. While Henry Bolingbroke – as the eldest son of Edward III’s third son – was the heir male of his grandfather (or at least, he was after Richard II had actually died), the house of York descended in the female line from Lionel of Antwerp (Edward’s second son), making Edward IV the heir general of his namesake. Most historians now believe this gave York a superior claim to the throne. No doubt the Wikipedia entry does therefore not list the first York King as a usurper because they view it as a restoration of the true blood line.

But this doesn’t stack up.

To start with, back in 1399, when Henry IV was crowned, there was genuine confusion as to whether someone could base their claim to the throne through descent in the female line. Obviously this had become fairly meaningless by the end of the War of the Roses when even the best Lancastrian claimant (Henry Tudor) was basing his right to the crown on his mother’s lineage. But for as long as the male-line Lancastrian wing existed, they had a right which could well have been viewed as superior.

The real reason actually goes much deeper. Regardless of the ‘who had the better claim’ debate, the truth was that by 1461, the house of Lancaster was an established dynasty. The crown had passed seamlessly from the first Lancastrian King to his son who reigned so successfully that his infant boy inherited without challenge. Not only had Henry VI inherited the crown smoothly enough, he had held it for the first 40 years of his reign without anyone questioning it. When Edward IV managed to get his hands on power, Parliament had only recently re-asserted Henry’s right to it, albeit at the cost of disinheriting his son.

To take the throne, Edward IV had to seize it by force. Both law and the establishment were initially against him. In my book, this is the very definition of usurption and, to be frank, it should be in anybody’s. Perhaps the Wikipedia community could take a little look at this post and snap into edit mode.

(Editor’s note: What really makes my blood boil is that Richard III is also excluded from the list of usurpers. I’m too angry about this to even put pen to paper.)

Well geeks over to you…am I misjudging what it means to usurp? Are you a crazed Yorkist who believes that house can do no wrong? Do you have a crush on Max Hastings and are letting that cloud your view? I want to know what YOU think!

Margaret Beaufort’s claim to the throne part 3: The better arguments

Posted on January 25, 2016January 26, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

As we have shown in the previous post, most of the arguments that suggest Margaret was looked upon as a potential heir to the throne are not satisfactory. Now it is time to examine the two stronger theories.

In part 2, I examined three of the most common reasons given for Margaret having a claim to England’s throne; but I also showed why they sadly don’t amount to much.

But there are two stronger – although I think ultimately unsatisfactory – reasons that are also given.

Parliament had acknowledged her claim in 1450

Maybe. When she was the ward of the unpopular Duke of Suffolk, Parliament had accused him of trying to marry her to his son ‘pretending and believing her to be the heir to the throne.’

Essentially they had major beef with Suffolk, the King’s unpopular adviser and wanted him out. They needed an excuse. Margaret had been his ward for years and he had either married her or planned to marry her to his son. Those that had it in for Suffolk concocted a story that he had ganged up with the French to try and do away with the King, and get his son to claim the throne by right of marriage to Margaret.

It does add weight to the claim that she was considered next in line, but…but, but, but: we have to remember that neither was Suffolk saying he thought she actually was (and indeed, he denied he thought she was) and nor did Parliament suggest that she actually was. They were accusing Suffolk of pretending she was.

Nonetheless in order to Parliament’s framing of Suffolk to have been in any way credible, there must have been a certain sense that Margaret was not an outlandish candidate for succession. It’s also very possible that anyone who was not keen on the idea of the Duke of York being next in line, may have considered Margaret a more viable option.

Her son had to flee to exile in 1470 – surely that means he was considered a rival to the Yorks?

This is a strong argument. Why on earth did the future Henry VII have to flee the country when the Yorks were restored in 1470 if he was no threat? Some must have thought him a claimant and that claim was transmitted from his mother.

However at this point, Lancaster had little choice. In the 1450s, York was generally considered Henry VI’s heir: but this was hardly an option now. And, after the battle of Tewksbury the house of Lancaster (including the Beauforts) had been eliminated in the male line. Henry Richmond was ‘the closest Lancaster had to Royalty.’ Therefore at this point it does seem that opinions had shifted and Margaret’s Beaufort claim now had validity. But we must be clear. This was placed firmly on her son. Nobody envisaged her making a bid for power herself.

So where does all this leave us? Let’s hop on over to the conclusion to find out.

Introducing Margaret Beaufort week

Posted on January 25, 2016January 30, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

There are a few things on TV really worth watching. Dan Jones’ ‘Britain’s Bloody Crown’ (which should probably be called ‘England’s Bloody Crown’) is one of them.

Not only is it a well-researched yet entertaining docu-drama (which can be something of a rarity), last week he even managed to achieve the near-impossible and present a moderate, reasoned and non-partisan picture of Richard III which still made it clear that he almost certainly killed his nephews, the Princes in the Tower.

But it was the trail for this week’s episode that really got my ears pricked. This Thursday, Jones is to devote an entire episode to the legendary Margaret Beaufort, mother of the Tudors and one of my historic heroines.

In excited anticipation of this, I have decided to declare this week MARGARET BEAUFORT week on Royalhistorygeeks.org. During the week I will flood the site with content of Henry VII’s illustrious mother, inviting comment, dialogue and discussion as I do so.

First, I will kick off with a mini-series on whether the young Margaret really had a valid claim to the throne as many historians and writers have suggested. Then I will devote a post to explaining why, despite the bizarre suggestions of some Ricardians, she, the Countess of Richmond could not possibly have killed the Princes in the Tower. After that I will tackle another myth, that Margaret and her daughter-in-law Elizabeth of York did not get along. I also intend to post a review of Elizabeth Norton’s excellent biography of ‘The Mother of the Tudor Dynasty’.

Finally, I will eagerly watch the episode on Thursday night and post my critique following it. This week’s gonna be a blast guys. Join me for the ride!

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