Elizabeth Ashworth – author

On this day, 18^th February 1478, George, Duke of Clarence, younger brother of King Edward IV and older brother of Richard III, was executed for treason.  Rumour persists that he was drowned in a butt of malmsey wine. 

George, Duke of Clarence

George was the fourth son of Richard, Duke of York, and Cecily Neville.  He was born in Dublin in 1449, during the time that his father was lieutenant there.

After Richard, Duke of York, was killed at Wakefield in 1460, along with his second son Edmund, it was his eldest son, Edward, who managed to take the throne in 1461.  This made George, as the next surviving brother, the heir to the throne.  He was knighted and created a duke, taking the title of Clarence as a reminder of the hereditary claim of the house of York to the throne of England.

George wanted to marry Isabel Neville, the daughter of the Earl of Warwick, but King Edward objected, probably hoping to arrange a marriage for his brother that was diplomatically advantageous to himself. However, George went ahead and married Isabel anyway with the encouragement of her father who fomented a rebellion against the king and promised George that he could take the crown in his place.  But the plot failed and the rebels were forced to flee abroad.  Warwick allied himself with Queen Margaret of Anjou, the wife of the deposed king Henry VI who was locked up in the Tower of London.  Their invasion was successful and Henry was put back on the throne.  However, this left George without the promised crown and he decided that his best option was to make peace with his brother Edward.  George fought for the Yorkists at the battles of Barnet and Tewksbury and helped his brother to be restored as King Edward IV.  But now Edward had a son of his own and George was no longer next in line to the throne.

Arguments followed about the inheritance of the Neville lands, especially when his younger brother Richard, Duke of Gloucester, expressed a wish to marry Anne Neville, the sister of George’s wife Isabel.  George hid Anne, who was the widow of the defeated Prince of Wales, from Richard and the rows that the brothers had at court concerning their shares of the Neville inheritance became so volatile that in a letter to his wife John Paston remarked that men were threatening to wear their harness (armour) to court.  He also writes in a letter to John Paston III ‘Yesterday the King, the Queen and my lords of Clarence and Gloucester went to the pardon at Sheen; men say they were not all in charity with one another. What will befall men cannot say. The king entreats my Lord of Clarence for my Lord of Gloucester; and, it is said, he answers that he (Gloucester) may have my Lady, his sister-in-law, but they will part with no livelode, as he says; so what will fall I cannot say…’

Eventually Richard did marry Anne and the Neville lands were shared between the brothers.  George was appointed chamberlain of England and councillor of Edward, Prince of Wales, who had supplanted him as heir.  He attended the council, parliament and state ceremonies and headed one of the largest retinues on Edward’s invasion of France in 1475.

He and Isabel had four children, two of whom lived. But when Isabel died shortly after giving birth to their last child, who also died, George accused her attendant, Ankarette Twynho, of poisoning her.  He had the woman brought to him from her home in Dorset to his castle at Warwick, conducted a ‘trial’, found her guilty and had her hanged.

Following this, his relationship with the king deteriorated for a variety of reasons. Perhaps the main one was that when George asked to marry Mary, the daughter of the late Charles, Duke of Burgundy, Edward refused.  Perhaps he feared that such an alliance would give George too much power.  In response, George complained in private about his brother and became so hostile that the only contact between them was by angry notes sent via messengers.

When George’s retainer Thomas Burdet and two astrologers supposedly cast the king’s horoscope they were convicted of treason and executed.  George questioned the justice of this and consequently found himself in court accused over the Twynho affair, of railing against the king and of claiming to be the Lancastrian heir.  He was allowed no defence and was sentenced to death for treason.

Some historians blame the king’s wider family, the relatives of his queen, for plotting against Clarence.  Others question the motives of his younger brother Richard who would never have become king had George lived.  But Richard probably had no thought of ever becoming king at this point in time and other sources claim that he pleaded for his brother’s life.

George, Duke of Clarence, was executed privately in the Tower of London. There are no recorded details of his death but a story was told at the time that he had been drowned in malmsey. 

A body, with the head intact, was later exhumed from the Tower of London and taken to lie with the remains of his wife, Isabel, at Tewkesbury Abbey.  It would be interesting to see if any DNA could be extracted from those bones and compared with the DNA recently taken from the newly discovered remains of his younger brother Richard.  If there was a match it would rule out a beheading, although it would not prove the truth of the story of the malmsey wine.

Further Reading: M.A. Hicks, False, Fleeting, Perjur’d Clarence: George Duke of Clarence 1449-78 (Gloucester, 1980)

Many years ago, when I still in primary school, I remember being taught – as if it were a fact – that King Richard III was an evil man who had his nephews smothered to death so that he could steal the crown.  For a long time I believed it, until I did my own research.  Then I realised that what I had been taught was not necessarily true.

David Garrick as Shakespeare’s Richard III, painted by William Hogarth.

What many people believe they know about Richard III is informed by the play that William Shakespeare wrote about him. They forget that Shakespeare was primarily a story-teller and they think that the portrayal of Richard as an evil hunchback king with a withered arm is an accurate one.

Today, the University of Leicester has confirmed that the remains exhumed from beneath a council car park in Leicester are those of Richard III, the last Plantagenet king of England.  The skeleton reveals many things but maybe two of the most interesting are: the king was not a hunchback (although he did suffer from severe scoliosis) and he did not have a withered arm.

So, why did Shakespeare write the play he did?  Well, first of all you have to admit that it’s a good story – and as I said Shakespeare was a story-teller.  But there may be another reason.

William Shakespeare was reliant on patronage.  He needed an income.  It is fairly certain that one of his early patrons was Ferdinando Stanley, Lord Strange.  In fact Lord Strange’s Men are linked to the first performance of Richard III and it is probable that Shakespeare wrote the play for them.

If you know anything about the battle of Bosworth, you will know that the main reason Richard died is because he was not supported by the Stanley family.  Thomas Stanley, who was the father-in-law of Henry Tudor, seems to have watched from the sidelines until he was sure who would win.  His brother, William Stanley, led the attack on Richard and it was he who seized the crown and put it on Henry Tudor’s head, although in Shakespeare’s play it is Thomas Stanley who is credited with the act.  It is also recorded that Henry Tudor’s standard bearer at Bosworth was a man named William Brandon.  Richard killed him in his attempt to reach Tudor and engage him in a hand to hand combat.

Ferdinando Stanley, Shakespeare’s patron, was the direct descendant of Thomas Stanley.  On his mother’s side he was also descended from William Brandon. According to the will of Henry VIII he was, after his mother, Margaret Clifford, the heir to the English throne if Elizabeth I died childless.  I don’t think he would have been impressed if his playwright had written a play that eulogised Richard III.  In fact, Shakespeare’s patron may have demanded a play that reminded Queen Elizabeth of the crucial role the Stanleys had played in putting the Tudors on the throne  – a play that would reinforce his own claim to be her legitimate heir.

It could be that William Shakespeare did not have an entirely free hand in his writing.  He was probably forced, at that early stage in his career, to please his patron by producing work that pleased him. So, maybe he should not take all the blame for blackening Richard’s reputation.  Instead, the fault should lie with those who have relied on fictional rather than factual sources to inform history.  If today’s announcement changes anything, I hope it will be that more focus is put on the facts surrounding the reign and death of Richard III and that there will be an analysis of what was written about Richard before and after his death at Bosworth. For example the medieval historian John Rous praised Richard as a ‘good lord’ before Bosworth and it was not until the reign of Henry Tudor that he wrote about him being ‘born with teeth and shoulder-length hair after having been in his mother’s womb for two years’ – a comment he must have known at the time was ridiculous. But maybe he too was constrained by what he was being pressured to record.

Maybe the blame does not lie with Shakespeare, or John Rous, or even Thomas More.  Perhaps the blame lies with those who they were forced to please. The men who held power.  The victors.  The Tudors.

When I began researching the life of King Richard III for my upcoming novel By Loyalty Bound, I was very saddened to learn that, rather than an elaborate tomb in a cathedral, Richard had no marked resting place and that no one was even sure where his body was buried.  The best guess was ‘under a car park in Leicester’ which didn’t seem a fitting place for a king, especially one I had become very fond of.

When I read last summer that there were plans for an archaeological dig to look for his remains, but that there was a £10,000 shortfall in the funding and donations were being solicited, I had mixed feelings. I was excited to think that this investigation might go ahead, but I wondered how genuine this appeal was.  However, further investigations revealed that the driving force behind the proposed dig was Philippa Langley.  I’d come across her name before whilst researching Richard III and I knew that she was a keen advocate on his behalf and a member of the Richard III Society. I also knew that she had written a screenplay about the king’s life and had sent it to actor Richard Armitage, who is also interested in the history and because he was born on the anniversary of the battle of Bosworth is actually named for the late king!

Further inquiries revealed that the University of Leicester was to undertake the dig and the scientific investigations, so I was reassured and hopeful that the dig would take place.

It was with huge excitement that I read in August that the diggers had moved onto the Greyfriars car park in Leicester and that a trench had been dug.  Richard Buckley, the director of archaeology at the university, said that ‘finding the remains of the king was a long shot’.  In fact I think there was mention of hats being eaten, but, although it was kept quiet at the time, it turns out that the team found a skeleton almost immediately.  News was released to the press that the dig had found walls belonging to the medieval Greyfriars and then that the remains of a medieval garden had been found, but it wasn’t until the press conference on the morning of the 12^th September that the information about the discovery of human remains was made public.

Two skeletons were found – one female and a male skeleton that was almost intact (only the feet were missing).  Although the archaeologists were not in a position to identify the remains the circumstantial evidence seemed compelling.  The skeleton had a severe injury to the back of the head. It had an arrow head lodged near the spine. And the spine showed signs of scoliosis. This all matched contemporary reports of Richard’s appearance and the manner of his death.  You can see a video of the press conference held by the University of Leicester here: http://youtu.be/VgnYdvPAjaQ

Four and a half months have passed since that press conference.  Christmas has come and gone. The snow has blocked roads and melted again. The first of the spring flowers are now pushing through the soil and on Monday (4^th February) another press conference will be held.  This will reveal the findings of the intensive scientific testing that has taken place to try to identify the remains. There has been DNA testing, environmental sampling and radiocarbon dating.  You can read more about the university’s investigations here: http://www2.le.ac.uk/offices/press/media-centre/richard-iii/old-content/features/step-by-step-the-science-of-the-search-for-richard-iii

What will the verdict be? Are the remains those of King Richard III?  It may be that no certain answer can be given, but I think that the skeleton will probably be confirmed as Richard’s.  After all, the documentary the same evening (Channel 4 at 9 p.m.) is called ‘The King in the Car Park’ rather than an ‘an unidentified body in the car park’.  You can see the trailer for the programme here: http://youtu.be/drinD2oc6Gk

In death, as well as in life, Richard draws controversy and there has already been huge discussion about what will happen to his remains, with calls for burials in Westminster, York and Leicester – although I think it most likely that he will be re-interred in Leicester Cathedral.  At least he will no longer be ‘lost’ under a car park and I look forward to visiting his resting place and paying my respects to the man who inspired me to research all the details of the Wars of the Roses.

Many questions have been asked about Richard III.  Was he a good king? Was he a child murderer?  Finding his body cannot answer them, but it may promote a debate based on factual evidence rather than hearsay, although opinions will continue to vary and the debates will be fierce.  Another question that remains unanswered is the identity of the mother of his two illegitimate children, John and Katherine.  A woman named Katherine Haute is sometimes suggested, as she received an annuity from him. But in my novel By Loyalty Bound, I suggest another possibility – Anne Harrington.  I’ll be writing more about my reasons for that and the research behind it another day.  In the meantime, I’ll be spending Monday listening, watching and learning about the discoveries made in Leicester.

The images of the death of Admiral Horatio Nelson aboard the HMS Victory at the Battle of Trafalgar are well known.  Many people associate Nelson’s death with his final words ‘Kiss me Hardy” that were addressed to Captain Thomas Hardy, but the man usually portrayed to the left of Nelson, in whose arms he died, was his close friend and personal chaplain Alexander John Scott.

Alexander John Scott was born at Rotherhithe on the 23^rd July 1768.  His parents were Robert Scott, a retired naval officer, and his wife Jane (nee Comyn).  Jane Comyn had brought to the marriage, as a dowry, a small estate in Dominica.  When Scott was two years old his father went to visit this estate and not only found it to be worthless but also contracted a tropical disease from which he died, leaving Jane a widow with three young children and in financial difficulties.  Scott’s uncle, also called Alexander, who was his father’s brother and a naval commander, took his young nephew with him when he sailed to the West Indies.  There, Scott lived with Sir Ralph and Lady Payne.  Sir Ralph Payne was the governor of the Leeward Islands and he procured a scholarship for Scott to return to England to be educated at Charterhouse and then at St John’s College Cambridge where he studied divinity.  Here he was in the company of more affluent friends and he lived beyond his means and ran up debts.  He graduated in 1786 and was ordained as a deacon to a curacy in Sussex but his debts were a pressing concern and, as his uncle refused to give him any more financial support, he accepted the offer of the post as chaplain aboard the HMS Berwick from the captain, Sir John Collins, who was an old friend of his late father.

Serving in the Mediterranean gave him the opportunity to hone his skills as a talented linguist and he became fluent in Italian, Spanish, German and French. It was also around this time that he met Horatio Nelson and they became friends.

He served as a chaplain on various ships, where his linguistic skills were put to good use as a translator, interpreter and a spy who listened to conversations in foreign ports.  He paid off his debts and became financially secure for the first time, although his life was not an entirely easy one.  In 1803, when he was aboard the Topaze in the West Indies, he was struck by lightning whilst asleep in his cabin and seriously injured.  The bolt ignited some explosives that were stored nearby and the resulting explosion knocked out several of his teeth and damaged his hearing and eyesight as well as leaving him affected by his nerves. He took a while to recover and when he was well enough he returned home to take up a living at Southminster.  During his convalescence he was visited by Nelson who asked if he would serve as his chaplain.

Just as Scott was recovering his health the war with France was declared and he sailed on the Victory with his friend.  On 21^st October 1805 the enemy fleet was sighted off Cape Trafalgar and as battle commenced it was Alexander Scott’s role to remain below in the cockpit to minister to the wounded and the dying.  It was here that Nelson was brought after being shot by a musket ball, fired from a French ship, at about 1.15pm.  Scott stayed with his friend, rubbing his chest to help ease his pain and giving him lemonade to drink, until he finally died in his arms at about 4.30 pm.  According to Scott the Admiral’s last words were ‘God and my country’.

Scott accompanied Nelson’s body back to England and kept vigil over it every night for a week as it lay in state at Greenwich before attending St Paul’s Cathedral to watch it laid to rest in the crypt.  He later wrote of his friend: ‘Men are not always themselves and put on their behaviour with their clothes, but if you live with a man on board ship for years, if you are continually with him in his cabin, your mind will soon find out how to appreciate him. I could forever tell of the qualities of this beloved man, Horatio Nelson. I have not shed a tear before the 21st October, and since whenever I am alone, I am quite like a child.’

The only public recognition of his services was the degree of DD (Doctor of Divinity) that was conferred on him by Cambridge.  The admiralty refused to acknowledge the part he had played in gathering covert information and even stopped his pay for the time he was absent from his ship on ‘leave’.  Scott settled down as the vicar of Southminster, in Essex, on a reduced income.

On 9^th July 1807, at the age of 35 years, Scott married 17 year old Mary Frances Ryder.  He had been friends with the Ryders from his schooldays although they tried to dissuade their daughter from the marriage on the grounds of Scott’s ill health and poor prospects, but she was determined to become his wife.  The couple moved into the vicarage at Burnham on Crouch where Scott assumed the curacy to supplement his income as Rector of Southminster.  They had two daughters, Horatia and Margaret and then a son who died shortly after birth followed by his mother not long after.

Alexander Scott brought up his two daughters alone and campaigned for better education and schools for both boys and girls.  In 1816 he received the living at Catterick, although he arrived to find the vicarage in a dilapidated state and the bills unpaid.  Here he spent much of his time reading and researching.

His health was never good and he died at Ecclesfield, in south Yorkshire, during the night of the 24^th July 1840 at the age of 72 when he became ill whilst visiting his daughter Margaret, who was the wife of the Revd Alfred Gatty, vicar of St Mary’s church.  He is buried in the churchyard.  The tomb can be found if you follow the path around the back of the church.  It is to the left of the path just before the gateway to the vicarage and bears the following inscription:

‘Waiting for the adoption – the redemption of our body’  Here lies buried,  Alexander John Scott DD, vicar of Catterick and Southminster and Chaplain to Admiral Lord Nelson on board HMS Victory at Trafalgar.  He died July 24 1840 aged 72.

Prologue

Mabel de Haigh paused on the edge of the market place.  Her bare feet were bloodied and torn and the snow-laden wind made her shiver as she limped forward, bareheaded and dressed only in her linen chemise.  In her hand she shielded a lighted taper, almost burnt down now.  The villagers who lined her path willed her on and gave her strength.  Although the penance for adultery was designed to be a humiliation, these people neither mocked nor jeered her as she passed, but the men averted their eyes from her unclothed body and the women whispered words of encouragement and sympathy.

At last she reached the stone cross and knelt before it to pray to God for the salvation of her soul.  She was an adulteress.  She freely admitted her sin to God, priest and man.  But she prayed that God would forgive her as easily as Father Gilbert, her confessor, and the people of Haigh who stood protectively around her.

“That is enough,” said Father Gilbert as she felt a warm cloak being placed around her shoulders and the hood raised to cover her hair which hung loose and unbraided.  “Come away now.”

She held up her hand in a silent plea for a few more moments of prayer.  Then she crossed herself, put out the taper and stumbled to her feet as arms grasped hers and supported her.  It was over now and she could go home, shriven, to have her feet bathed and bandaged and to recover from her long penitential walk.