Arthur Tudor, Prince of Wales

I’ve been meaning to write this post for some time. The main delay has been in recovering my pictures of the tomb of Prince Arthur that I took earlier this year. I’m still struggling to recover them, but don’t want to delay my post any longer, so pictures will follow, hopefully. I’ve visited Worcester many, many times, since I was a child, and always visited the Cathedral and made my way to Arthur’s tomb. It’s always been one of my favourite tombs – encased in a beautiful chantry. It lacks an effigy, but may well have had a brass of Arthur on top of it. It’s been some years since I visited Arthur’s tomb, but I was delighted to find myself passing through Worcester and that meant only one thing – a visit to the Cathedral. Earlier this year, I bought a book entitled ‘Arthur Tudor, Prince of Wales’, a collection of essays about the young prince, and his tomb, edited by Steven Gunn and Linda Monckton. It was very expensive, but well worth it. I have always wondered what sort of a king Arthur would have made. Read any Tudor novel that features Arthur, and I’ve read many, and he’s portrayed as weak and sickly, over-shadowed by his younger, stronger and healthier brother, the future Henry VIII. Indeed, we often get the scenario of Catherine of Aragon wising she was marrying the younger brother – which I strongly doubt, Catherine being 16 and Henry only 10. It’s also usual for Arthur to be portrayed as spitting blood and suffering from consumption, with Henry VII lamenting his sick and puny son. But where does this sickly portrayal of the prince come from? Yes, it’s the Victorians and their ‘spin’ on the historical evidence. The 19th century historian James Gairdner used Henry VII’s letter to Ferdinand, Catherine’s father, to portray Arthur as ‘sickly’. What Henry VII intended to convey to Ferdinand was his concern that at almost a year younger than Catherine, he didn’t want his son to over exert himself in his ‘married life’ because of his ‘tender’ age, and considered not sending Catherine with Arthur to rule a mini-court in Ludlow. ‘Tender’ becomes ‘delicate’, and the myth of the sickly Arthur is created. His betrothal to Catherine in 1497 elicited these words from the Milanese ambassador – Arthur was ‘about 11 years of age, but taller than his years would warrant, of remarkable beauty and grace, and very ready in speaking Latin’. Hardly the image of a sickly prince – and Henry VII did allow Catherine to accompany Arthur. The surviving portraits of Arthur show a handsome, serious, strong youth and there is no record of him being sickly. Because we know he died when he was 15, and have the image of his brother Henry VIII as the robust, athletic lion of England, whose own sons died young, Arthur has been portrayed as the sickly brother of the dazzling Henry VIII, cut down by the ‘family disease’, consumption. What we do know of Arthur is that he was given an excellent education and was groomed for kingship from an early age. The book contains evidence of Arthur’s movements and his household, and of the promise of his reign. Of course, it also suits supporters of the cause of Catherine of Aragon to have Arthur portrayed as the sickly prince, unable to consummate his marriage. It is one of the most hotly-contested debates in history, but in my opinion, I see no reason for Arthur and Catherine not to have consummated their marriage. I note a new book on Catherine once again quotes her as marrying the 'sickly' Arthur.


Arthur’s death in April 1502 left his parents grief-stricken – only Elizabeth of York and Henry VII could offer comfort to each other. Arthur’s funeral was a huge event. It was re-enacted in 2002, the 500th anniversary. A stained glass window was erected in the Cathedral to commemorate the event. It is a copy of the stained glass window of Arthur at Malvern.

The book is mainly taken up with the recent investigation of Arthur’s tomb. During my visit, I saw red stickers in place which marked the place of heat seeking equipment which had been used to investigate the tomb. It seems Arthur does not lie beneath the marble monument in his chantry, but a few feet away. I met a delightful, elderly and very knowledgeable local guide and asked him about the research, and he showed me where it is thought Arthur lies. We had an enjoyable discussion about what sort of king Arthur would have made, and how differently events might have turned out. What we both found very touching was that one of Arthur’s loyal household members, Gruffydd ap Thomas, requested his tomb be placed close to the prince he never forgot. When Gruffydd died in 1521, his request was granted.

A Visit to Chepstow Castle

I visited Chepstow Castle a couple of weeks ago, and was amazed at the sime of it. It was built in Norman times, around 1067, and is famous for being in possession by William Marshall. It was badly damaged in the English Civil war. Here's a link for more info -

http://www.greatcastlesofwales.co.uk/chepstow.htm

Here are some of my pictures.

Anniversary greetings to Piers and Margaret

November 1st is the 703rd anniversary of the marriage of Piers Gaveston and the king’s niece, Margaret de Clare. Edward 1st had died on July 7th 1307. The new king, Edward II, quickly recalled Piers and wasted little time in finding a royal bride for him. The chronicles state recalling Piers was Edward’s first act as king. He then made Piers the Earl of Cornwall, and a royal bride would surely complete his elevation into the nobility. Maybe it as also Edward’s way of ‘officially’ bring Piers into his own family.

Margaret de Clare was the king’s niece and sister of the young earl of Gloucester. Her mother was the king’s late sister, Joan of Acre and her first husband Gilbert, Earl of Gloucester. Despite the hostility the chroniclers were later to heap upon Piers, his marriage attracted little of their attention. We know the marriage took place at Berkhamsted and the king himself attended. Naturally, Edward was generous with his gifts where Piers was concerned. He gave the couple jewels totalling £30, £36 17s. 7d. on gifts for her ladies, £20 for a palfrey for Margaret and £20 for minstrels. In a further act of generosity, Edward provided £7, 10s. 6d. on coins for which to shower the couple as hey entered the church.

We have no evidence to tell us how Margaret felt about her marriage, but I doubt she was displeased with it. She was married to the king’s favourite and had become a countess. More honours would surely follow. And if we are to believe the descriptions of Piers, that he was handsome, graceful and well-mannered, she may well have been delighted. Margaret would of course have known her duty.

This month's BBC History magazine

The cover has Henry VII and Henry VIII and an article by Desmond Seward to coincide with his book 'The Last White Rose - the secret war against the Tudors', which I have but have not began to read yet. In the book review section is a review of Ian Mortimer's 'Medieval Intrigue' by Nicholas Vincent, professor of history at the University of East Anglia. I admit to beng totally blown away, as it were, by Ian Mortimer's book, but Vincent is not. The review is meant to be available on-line but isn't 'showing' for me, so I'll quote from the magazine itself.

Vincent's main concern is ' Mortimer's doubts have burgeoned into a theory which itself has failed to win approval from the academic establishment.........critics have, on the whole, either sat firmly on the fence or just as firmly rejected his tottering tower of conjecture. Most writers would at this point pass on to better things. Not Mortimer, who has now brought together a collection of essays not only to restate his theory, but to indict his critics with grave crimes: a lack of professionalism, a herd mentality, a refusal to entertain ideas beyond the accepted concensus............[However] Far from being the victim of a spiteful academic cartel that has refused him access to the published media, Mortimer is in fact a best-selling author with a particular hefty axe to grind. The louder and more repeatedly he grinds his axe, the more he risks being mistaken for a solipist, incapable of dispassionate neutrality about his own pet theories'.


This is an abridged version of the review, which only offers a few sentences at the end on the quality of the book - the rest is taken up with a critique of Ian Mortimer's 'pet theory'. As I previously blogged, I thoroughly enjoyed the book and the struggle to get his essays published and taken seriously were a huge part of the enjoyment, plus Mortimer's challenge to question what we think we know about history. Perhaps he won't be surprised to find this reviewer merely challenges his 'theory' rather than reviewing the process of how his work has been received, challenged and evaluated, and how Mortimer arrived at his conclusion that Edward II did indeed survive beyond 1327. I'm certainly a convert!

Argument or facts? Ian Mortimer's Medieval Intrigue

This post has been inspired by Ian Mortimer’s ‘Medieval Intrigue’, recently published. In fact, it’s basically a review of the book plus my thoughts. My interest in Edward II was sparked by the Jean Plaidy novel ‘The Follies of the King’ back in the 1980s. I was ‘brought up’ on Jean Plaidy, with my mother being an avid reader with a deep love of history. From a very young age – I can certainly remember being as young as 7, my mother would always tell me ‘historical stories’, and I started reading Plaidy when I was about 10. I was always in the library where they had a whole shelf of her novels, and then I discovered they had a complete set of the reference books she had used – ‘Lives of the Queens of England’, by Agnes Strickland, and Saturday afternoons were spent reading various volumes. Of course, I was also reading the ‘serious’ historical books by now, although there were none on Edward II at my local library. I must have been about 12 when I read ‘Follies’, and as always, with my interest sparked by Plaidy, I set about finding information on him. Thus the story that Edward II was murdered at Berkeley Castle with a red hot poker was fact to me – it had really happened, and I remember being appalled when I read his screams had been heard through the thick walls of the castle, and it had all been done by his wicked queen Isabella and her lover Mortimer. I was shocked that Edward III allowed the murderers to walk around without revenge. I then duly convinced my parents a few years later to take me to Berkeley castle to see the scene of the crime and visit Edward’s tomb in Gloucester Cathedral. ‘Follies’ had also sparked my interest in Piers Gaveston as well. I never questioned Edward II’s fate. At University, I specialised in medieval history and wrote an essay on Edward II, accepting the death of Edward II in 1327. I eventually allowed my interest to wane in that particular area, as there were so few books available - and no Internet – and developed my interest in other parts of history. I then came across Ian Mortimer’s ‘Greatest Traitor’, which frankly astonished me, and I readily dismissed his case that Edward II had survived. Plaidy’s books were re-issued, and I bought ‘Follies’, which led me to Kathryn’s marvellous Edward II site. It’s down to Kathryn that I no longer accept the red hot poker story, and began to accept that Edward might have survived. I feel myself very fortunate that she shared some of her research with me and answered all my questions. Because, as Ian Mortimer rightly states, once we are ‘brought up’ on so-called historical facts that have been unchallenged, it becomes very difficult for us to question and reject them. He uses the example of Alfred burning the cakes – I was brought up on that, reading the Ladybird history books – Florence Nightingale had her lamp, Walter Raleigh laid down his coat for Queen Elizabeth and Alfred burnt the cakes. As I got older, it became ‘the weather saved England from the Armada’ and Jane Grey was brutally beaten by her parents and was the idealised Protestant martyr. There were books that tried to challenge accepted views, and history, as Mortimer says, became split into ‘traditionalists’ and ‘revisionalists’. There’s also the charge that some historians are ‘conspiracy theorists’ – popular subjects included ‘JFK’ and Princess Diana, and even Dan Brown challenged with ‘The Da Vinci Code’, which in the UK had been flagged up in ‘Holy Blood, Holy Grail’. (I should point out that I don’t consider Dan Brown a historian at all – but Ian Mortimer points out that he was placed alongside him in a review of his article ‘The Death of Edward II’, which I think is dreadfully unfair).

I want to return to my University days for a moment. One aspect of my degree was the ‘methodology’ of history. My preference was always for the ‘narrative’ aspect of history. I remember being set a task using comparative case studies – not involving Edward II or indeed any king. But it shaped my interpretation of Edward II being murdered – because isn’t that what happens to all deposed monarchs? Any usurper would not keep the former king alive, as they would surely be a continual threat to them. The cases of Richard II and Edward V convinced me that Edward II would have to have been disposed of – murdered on the orders of Isabella and Mortimer. It was Kathryn that got me to re-asses this – because the cases are not the same at all. Edward II was deposed before Richard II and Edward V, and there was no real precedent for deposing kings and what should happen to them in his case study. Edward II was deposed to make way for his son, Edward III, by his mother and Mortimer – it was not his idea or actions which deposed his father, so he is not a usurper in the sense that Henry IV was. He was very much the ‘puppet’ of them, being only 15. Mortimer’s hold, in particular, was tenuous, for Edward III would surely seek to rule on his own, and Mortimer could find himself in real danger, especially if the story that he had had the king’s father ‘murdered’ became known. Would it therefore make sense to ‘fake’ the former king’s death from natural causes, and keep him a prisoner, and use him as a ‘force’ against his own son when he needed to?

Mortimer’s book is not about putting forward the ‘argument’ that Edward II did not die in 1327 – he uses facts to show that he did not. I’ve questioned Kathryn time and again about the points raised to prove Edward II was alive – and they always seemed to be ‘I’m not convinced’ or trying to find other meanings to challenge the evidence – like what on earth Lord Berkeley meant when he said he did not know Edward II was dead in 1330 – maybe the translation was wrong? Or maybe he didn’t know he had been murdered? Likewise the account of the Earl of Kent seeing his brother at Corfe Castle – surely it was an impostor set out to entrap Kent, who was known for his gullibility? And as for Edward III supposedly meeting his father in Cologne – well, that could have been an impostor trying his luck – after all, hadn’t there been people trying to impersonate either of the ‘little princes in the Tower’? Except that in Mortimer’s book, and in discussions with Kathryn, Lord Berkley’s words are a literal translation, Kent was not gullible and there were many other important men who supported his rebellion, and the ’impostor’ at Cologne seems to have had nothing to gain, was never punished and in fact was never referred to as an impostor.

Mortimer has written a stunning book in which he proves that Edward II was alive and did not die in Berkeley castle in 1327. The points I have mentioned are only a small part of the evidence – I haven’t, for example, even mentioned the Fieschi letter. I don’t want to post any ‘spoilers’ or replicate Ian Mortimer’s work in detail – but I advise any one with an interest in Edward II to read the book. The 2 chapters I enjoyed the most were ‘Twelve Angry Scholars’, in which Mortimer challenges his ‘peer reviewers’ most successfully and the chapter on ‘Edward III, His Father and the Fieschi’. His research into the Fieschi family and their connections with Edward II and Edward III is incredibly detailed and pieces together the movements of Edward II after 1327 and how he was able to do so. Also outstanding is his research of Edward III’s court accounts and his patronage of his father’s tomb at Gloucester – all makes sense and is proof.

No doubt Ian Mortimer has suffered by having his name bandied about with ‘conspiracy theorist historians’, which is very unfortunate, because in my opinion, he has shown there is a great deal of evidence that Edward II survived after 1327 – far more than the sole source that Edward II died at Berkeley of ‘natural causes’, namely Lord Berkeley. When you consider some of the flimsy books written about Richard III, and I’ll name the recent example of ‘Richard III and the murder in the Tower’, as one of the worst – full of, ‘suppose’, ‘what if’ etc – it would be a real shame if Ian Mortimer’s latest work isn’t given the respect it surely deserves.

Time for some Piers…….

Well, sort of. As some of my fav blogs are having a ‘books related’ theme, I thought I’d follow suit. I’ve added quite a few books to my collection in the last few weeks. I’ve had J. S. Hamilton’s ‘The Plantagenets – history of a dynasty’ for a couple of weeks. Hamilton has written his own book on Piers quite a few years ago. This time he tackles the Plantagenet kings. I’m afraid I’ve only read the chapters on Edward II (naturally!) and Richard II. Hamilton is very sympathetic to Edward from the opening paragraph. He points out the problems Edward immediately encounters – obviously being in the ‘shadow of a colossus’, his father, and inheriting a bankrupt treasury and the ‘Scotland problem’. As for Piers, he doesn’t just re-hash parts of his bio.

I liked the way that Hamilton deals with some of the chroniclers at the time. He challenges the chronicler who says that Edward instantly ‘felt so much love’ for Piers as soon as he saw him, pointing out that Piers was in Edward’s service for some 5 years before their attachment became apparent. Hamilton also challenges ‘The Ponthieu story’ – whereby Prince Edward asks his father for Ponthieu for Piers and is verbally and physically abused by his father. He claims Guisborough’s chronicle appears to be a ‘set piece’, with reference to the biblical story of Saul confronting David over his relationship with Jonathan. This confrontation allegedly was the cause of Piers’ first banishment. Hamilton rightly points out that the banishment wasn’t permanent, and the conditions were not harsh. Edward Its may have been concerned about the nature of the relationship between the prince and Piers, but the lenient sentence passed on Piers suggests he was not that worried – as we know, Prince Edward had fathered an illegitimate son.

I learned something new in the chapter on Richard II that has a connection with Piers. I must admit I know very little about the reign of Richard II, so for any Richard II scholars out there, this will be already known. After his death, Richard was buried in the Dominican friary in Langley – yes, the same resting place for Piers. Or as Hamilton puts it, ‘the same resting place of another Lancastrian victim, Piers Gaveston’. It seems he was buried in the tomb of Edmund, Duke of York and his wife, before being removed to Westminster abbey by Henry V. Can’t help wondering if Piers’ remains might have been disturbed then.

Hamilton writes in such a readable and enjoyable style, I’m looking forward to reading the rest of the book.


This week, I also got ‘The Red Queen’ by Philippa Gregory. I admit to not being a fan of her work, but I got the book at an incredibly good price from my book club – for £4.99 it was too good to turn down. Not sure when I’ll get around to reading it though. I also got hold of a copy of Michael Hicks ‘False, Fleeting, Perjured Clarence’ – at a really good price! I’m currently reading his ‘Warwick the Kingmaker’. I really enjoy Michael Hicks books and have been after this book for some time, although I wasn’t willing to pay the extortionate price for it on Amazon. So many times I’ve been tempted, and then last week a really good price came up for an immaculate condition!

And my favourite on-line book? The Daisy and the Bear, at Ragged Staff’s excellent ‘A Neville Feast’ . Since ragged Staff moved server, I haven’t mastered posting a comment. . I LOVE it! If you haven’t already succumbed to it, try it out at - http://nevillfeast.wordpress.com/

Yet another visit to the Tower of London – and an encounter with George, Duke of Clarence

Whenever I visit London, I always seem to end up visiting the Tower of London. Having visited in October, I found myself heading there again in July. I didn’t intend to, but finding myself with a spare 3 hours, in which I intended to go shopping, I realised that yet again I’d be able to fit another visit in. So once again, I found myself heading for Tower Hill tube station. Once inside, I decided not to visit the White Tower or the medieval palace exhibition. My focus was on the chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, the Beauchamp and Bloody towers, and the Bowyer tower. I’d managed a fleeting visit to the previous 3 last time, but decided to take my time this visit. I always start off with my visit with a Yeoman Warder’s tour. Yes, I’ve heard their stories and jokes many times, but still enjoy them. They are a huge asset to the Tower – part of the tradition of the Tower. Plus, in my previous visits, it was the only way I could access the chapel of St Peter ad Vincula, where the remains of, amongst others, Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey are buried. I was surprised when the Yeoman ended his tour at the site of the scaffold, and on asking abot the chapel, I was informed it was now open to the public to visit whenever they wished. I headed to the chapel and having been in there many times, knew my way around and who was buried where. I wondered how other visitors would cope without the Yeoman warder giving his usual chat, and that’s when I discovered the latest addition for visitors to the Tower – the audio guide. I have mixed views about audio guides. I used one at Westminster Abbey, and still got confused, and didn’t bother with my visit to Hampton Court. I appreciate their usefulness for those not fluent in English or who have difficulty using guide books. However, I much prefer the Yeoman taking you into the chapel, telling you al you need to know and who is buried where, plus there is a sense of reverence. I also prefer to see people communicating with each other, asking questions and making observations – seeing families walking around in silence with headphones on seems odd to me. There’s virtually no inter-action between them.

The Tower seems to be gearing up for another exhibition shortly – the zoo at the Tower. There is scaffolding, coverings and banners behind the Jewel House making visitors aware of it. The Bowyer tower is behind the Jewel House, and I’d completely forgotten about it during my last visit. Having read Susan Higginbotham’s ‘The Stolen Crown’, which had me absolutely gripped from the start, I made a point of visiting the Bowyer tower, for it was here, as tradition has it, that George, Duke of Clarence, met his end – drowned in a butt of malmsey, if we are to believe Shakespeare. Although there were many visitors to the Tower that day, I think many may have been put off going further than the Jewel House because of the scaffolding and coverings. So when I ventured around the back of it to go to the Bowyer tower, there was no-one there except for one other visitor, heading into the Bowyer tower. Outside was a board informing visitor this was where George had met his end, and I admit I only skimmed it, and inside, was the story of his imprisonment. The tower was empty, apart from a large barrel in the corner and the sound of dripping. The other visitor, a man, was on the opposite side of the Tower. I headed over to the barrel, and thought how clever they had made it look - the top had an image of a hole projected onto it and you could see rippling liquid. As I gazed down on it, the image of a drowning man appeared, clearly intended to be George. It was cleverly done to make it appear as if one was watching from underneath the barrel. It was unbelievably realistic, and so unexpected, I confess I let out an almighty shriek! Very embarrassing, but luckily there was only the other visitor present. He swung round to face me, clearly shocked himself, and I could only garble ‘it’s supposed to be Clarence in there’ and point at the barrel – and of course, there was no sign of the image then. We had to wait several minutes for George to pop up again. On leaving the tower, I noted on the board outside, it did warn to expect a ‘surprise’. That will teach me to skim information boards!