HistoryExtra https://www.historyextra.com/people/elizabeth-woodville Fri, 11 Oct 2024 10:01:28 GMT en hourly 1 Did Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville marry for love? https://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/marrying-for-love-edward-iv-and-elizabeth-woodville/ Wed, 06 Apr 2022 15:00:00 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/marrying-for-love-edward-iv-and-elizabeth-woodville/ Through his scandalous marriage to unlikely queen Elizabeth Woodville, Edward IV defied the expectation that he should use such a union as a diplomatic tool and instead prioritised love – or perhaps lust. Amy Licence, late medieval and early Tudor historian, explores their 19-year relationship… Henry VIII tends to be the monarch who gets frequently cited for breaking the royal marital mould by choosing his own wives from among his subjects. In particular, the narrative arcs of his relations with cousins Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard continue to fascinate, five centuries after his passion turned to hatred and he sent both of them to their deaths. However, Henry was only following the example set by Edward IV, the Yorkist grandfather whom he resembled in both looks and appetite. Edward may not have had as many wives as Henry, but his liaisons with women were just as complex and, perhaps, equally destructive on a national scale. Instead of following the traditional kingly route and negotiating for an influential foreign bride, Edward followed his heart and chose his wife for her personal qualities. Despite the scandal this created, the marriage proved successful and lasted until his death.
Why was Elizabeth Woodville "an unlikely queen”?
Five years older than her royal husband, Elizabeth Woodville was an unlikely queen. Her legendary blonde beauty entranced the young king to the extent that he married her in spite of tradition, in spite of advice, perhaps even in spite of himself. While none could fault her personal charms, Elizabeth was considered an unacceptable choice for an English queen by most of Edward’s advisors.
She was a widow, a mother already, born and married into Lancastrian families, the daughter of a mere knight, a man whom Edward had formerly held in contempt. She brought no dowry or international connections, no territories or promise of diplomatic support. What she did bring was her fertility, bearing the king 10 children in addition to the two sons from her first husband, Sir John Grey. Elizabeth also brought in a model of queenship that differed vastly from that of the woman she replaced, the Lancastrian Margaret of Anjou. Elizabeth may have begun her reign as unsuitable and unpopular but in fact, she was the perfect embodiment of the beautiful, submissive, fertile queen – an archetype of medieval literature.
Exactly when Elizabeth and Edward first met is unclear. They may well have been thrown together in the small, elite world of the English aristocracy, at court or some important event in the 1450s. The pair may even have known each other as children, as Elizabeth’s parents appear to have served in Rouen while Edward’s father was resident there as Lieutenant of Normandy. However, for much of Edward’s youth, Elizabeth was married and unavailable, a situation which only changed shortly before he became king. It is possible that he admired her before this point but, even if they had never previously seen one another, their attraction was quickly and decisively established.
Edward’s victory at the battle of Towton in 1461 put the Woodvilles in a difficult position – the family had fought on the ‘wrong’ side and survived. Yet in June 1461, Edward stayed at their home at Groby, Leicestershire, and granted a pardon to Elizabeth’s father, heralding a new relationship between the family and the Yorkists. The newly-widowed Elizabeth is almost certain to have sought shelter under her parents’ roof, so this may well have been a critical moment in their relationship.
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When did Elizabeth Woodville meet Edward IV?
Elizabeth’s first clear contact with Edward’s court came on 13 April 1464, only a few months before the suggested date of their marriage. She appealed to William, Lord Hastings, probably in his role as overseer of the Yorkist Midlands, for his assistance in a dispute arising with her mother-in-law. Legend has Elizabeth waiting for Edward under an oak in Whittlebury Forest, a helpless widow, hoping to plead for the inheritances of her sons. Perhaps he did come riding by, hear her problems and fall in love. When she became aware of his intentions and agreed to become his wife, knowing his position, she cannot have known what lay ahead, but she must have agreed to collude in his veil of secrecy. Her decision to marry the king cannot have been one she would have taken lightly.
Elizabeth married Edward in secret, some time before September 1464. The exact date and circumstances of this event are still hotly debated among historians, especially because the choices Edward made were later used to undermine his dynastic line. The ceremony appears to have taken place in the chapel at Groby, with the collusion of Elizabeth’s mother, Jacquetta, Countess Rivers, although it was kept secret from her father at that point. This choice was hardly surprising, given the reaction Edward could anticipate to the match, but there is also the possibility that the ritual was intended as a means of seduction rather than a lasting commitment.
Some historians have suggested that the king was, in fact, already married at this point. Almost 20 years later, after Edward’s death, the question of his children’s legitimacy turned upon a statement made by Robert Stillington, Bishop of Bath and Wells, who asserted that a prior arrangement between Edward and Eleanor Butler, née Talbot, invalidated his marriage to Elizabeth. This argument was used to depose Edward’s eldest son Edward V and replace him with Edward’s brother, Richard III. Eleanor was already conveniently long-dead by this time, as were any other witnesses, so the plausibility of the claim rested upon what was known of Edward’s character. His contemporary reputation as a womaniser did little to allay this possibility, and the secret marriage to Elizabeth only added to the doubts. At the time, there was no way that Edward could have predicted his early death, or his brother’s actions, although by rejecting the usual practice of conducting a royal marriage in public, he called his motives into question.
A desire to be together
Edward and Elizabeth were married for 19 years. Their relationship spanned a turbulent period, during which Edward lost and regained the throne, faced rebellion and was forced into exile. This meant that there were periods when the couple were separated, unsure whether or not they would see each other again. Edward also had mistresses, especially towards the end of his life, when he famously loved the company of Jane Shore. However, this was by no means unusual at the time, so would not necessarily have been a cause for conflict in the way that modern, post-Romantic sensibilities might anticipate. It was almost expected, for reasons of health and safety, that men would abstain from sleeping with their pregnant wives, but required sexual outlets elsewhere. While Edward might share another woman’s bed, he had made Elizabeth his queen and, unlike his grandson Henry VIII, he never intended to dislodge her from that position. Sex with other women would have been a diversion and a physical outlet, rather than an attempt to replace Elizabeth; it was advised by physicians as essential to health and might even have been welcomed by the queen later in life, or while she was indisposed. In spite of these issues, the marriage never appears to have foundered or weakened. Despite these difficulties and the opposition to their union, both were united in their desire to be together.
Today, it is difficult to recover the intimate details of a private life that was not committed to letters or a diary. Yet, it is possible to look at the indications that suggest the marriage did work, on a personal level, and Edward’s ability to maintain the union in the wake of the contemporary dislike of Elizabeth’s family. In defying expectations that he had a duty to use marriage as a diplomatic tool, Edward prioritised love, perhaps lust, in a way that exposed his own feelings. There was no question that he desired Elizabeth and was prepared to take considerable risks to make her his queen.
Yet amid all the controversy, Elizabeth’s own feelings are less transparent. A few of the chroniclers mention her initial resistance to Edward’s advances on moral grounds, refusing to become his mistress in a way that made him determined to make her his wife. However, this does not appear to have been as conscious a policy as that which Anne Boleyn would use six decades later. There is no question that Edward was a great catch for a knight’s widow. Apart from his considerable personal charms, to bag a king was the ultimate achievement as a career marriage, and brought unprecedented advantages to the Woodville family, something which Elizabeth must have been acutely aware of. But this may have been a realistic move, not a cynical one. It was the happy union of attraction and advantage that would have made the match so unique.
Elizabeth bore Edward 10 children, with their youngest arriving just three years before the king’s death. Of their seven girls and three boys, only five daughters reached adulthood, the others falling victim to illness, or disappearing inside the Tower of London, as was the case with the two elder boys, Edward V and his brother Richard (known to history as the Princes in the Tower). The provision for the young Prince Edward’s education and establishment at Ludlow Castle in the 1470s show that his parents cared deeply about the way his learning was imparted, his leisure hours and the influences upon him. He was to be allowed time to play, to enjoy his dogs and horses, and to be well fed, well slept and preserved from the influence of those who might be uncouth, ill, or of evil intent. The royal family appears to have been a close, warm unit, which retained a sense of loyalty and mutual support throughout Edward’s reign and afterwards. Their household accounts and the glimpses offered by eyewitnesses capture their mutual investment in the life they had created together and fought to protect. The eldest daughter, Elizabeth of York, continued to help her sisters and their offspring after she had married Henry VII and become queen.
A productive partnership
As 1483 dawned, Edward and Elizabeth might still have anticipated many years together. They had been married almost 19 years, the country was at peace and Edward himself was approaching his 41st birthday. He was middle-aged by contemporary standards, and although not as active and fit as his earlier years, had contemplated personally leading an army against the Scots just one year previously. The marriage had been placed under considerable pressure by Edward’s conflicts with his nobility, as rivalry was created by jealousy at the new-found wealth of the Woodvilles. Yet there are no surviving anecdotes that relate to conflict between the couple, or any lessening of affection. None of the gossipy stories that relate to the wives of Henry VIII, or those of Henry VI, Richard III and Henry VII, emerge about Edward and Elizabeth. Their partnership appeared complementary, harmonious and enduring, with Edward adopting a martial style of leadership, ruling by merit of his larger-than-life personality and Elizabeth taking the typically feminine role of the supportive and fertile but essentially apolitical queen.
Edward’s premature death in April 1483 ended a productive partnership before it had fully come to fruition, before their eldest son was of age. Having been the ‘glue’ that bound the disparate elements of his court together, Edward’s absence proved to be the catalyst that precipitated civil chaos. Losing control of power, and of her sons, Elizabeth witnessed the deaths of her friends and relatives before peace was restored under her son-in-law, Henry VII. She retired to Bermondsey Abbey, spending her final days in seclusion before being laid to rest in a humble grave, at her own request, alongside Edward in St George’s Chapel at Windsor. They lie there today, permanently united in death, their marriage standing as a symbol of the strong rule they embodied in life.
Amy Licence is a historian of the late medieval and early Tudor period, and the author of Edward IV & Elizabeth Woodville: A True Romance (Amberley Publishing 2016)
]]> Elizabeth Woodville: Edward IV’s controversial queen consort https://www.historyextra.com/period/plantagenet/elizabeth-woodville-edward-ivs-controversial-queen/ Mon, 07 Feb 2022 12:50:40 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/period/plantagenet/elizabeth-woodville-edward-ivs-controversial-queen/ Could she have saved her sons from Richard III? Did she mastermind an uprising against Henry VII? How did she react to the death of the princes in the Tower? Sarah Gristwood unpicks the mysteries surrounding Elizabeth Woodville, Edward IV’s controversial queen... Why did Elizabeth Woodville’s marriage to Edward IV appal so many people?
When, in the autumn of 1464, Edward IV informed his councillors that he had made a secret marriage, his choice of bride – Elizabeth Woodville – went against all the conventions of his day. Kings were supposed to marry in order to cement a foreign alliance – Elizabeth would be the first English queen since the Norman Conquest. Kings were also supposed to marry fellow royalty – Elizabeth was the daughter of a mere knight.
The secrecy of the ceremony was another problem. In the years ahead, the first parliament of Edward IV’s brother, Richard III, would denounce this as an “ungracious pretensed marriage”, having taken place “secretly, without Edition of Banns, in a private chamber, a profane place”.
Worse still, in an age when many people believed a king’s bride should be a virgin, Elizabeth was a widow. If that wasn’t bad enough, her first husband had been killed in the Wars of the Roses fighting for the Lancastrians against Edward IV’s Yorkists. And she was even five years older than Edward – though, as the king pointed out, with two young sons by her first marriage, she had at least proved her fertility.
More seriously, it was later alleged that Edward had no right to marry Elizabeth at all, having been earlier secretly precontracted to someone else. The charge was raised in 1483, after Edward’s death, when Richard of Gloucester signalled his intention to take the throne as Richard III on the grounds that Edward’s sons – Richard’s nephews – were illegitimate. One Bishop Stillington was said to have declared that he had earlier married Edward to Eleanor Butler (née Talbot), daughter to the Earl of Shrewsbury.
The evidence for Stillington’s accusation is, at best, circumstantial – Eleanor was dead by 1483, so no one could ask her, and the earlier marriage hadn’t been an issue in 1464. But for it to be raised at all shows that the marriage was, indeed, hugely controversial.
Did she marry for love – and, if so, why was that so shocking?
It wasn’t only Elizabeth’s lowly background and colourful past that proved so shocking to England’s court, it was also the fact that she and Edward may have married for love. For a king to choose his wife for love or lust – for “blind affection”, as the Italian historian Polydore Vergil would put it at the beginning of the 16th century – was so odd as to amount almost to an indecency. So much so that it would later be alleged that Elizabeth’s mother, Jacquetta, had used witchcraft to bring the two together.
But is it true that Edward and Elizabeth genuinely loved one another? Popular early versions of their first meeting certainly suggest so. Several describe a lustful king trying to force himself on a virtuous lady, who refuses to live with him “unchastely”. One tale even has Elizabeth defending herself with a dagger; another has Edward holding a knife to her throat. But all the tales end happily. The king was so struck by the lady’s virtue that he married her, in secret.
And yet it’s possible that cold political calculation had some influence in Edward’s decision to marry Elizabeth. The king may have seen some propaganda value in an alliance with a woman with connections to the Lancastrian side in the Wars of the Roses, and even in choosing an English bride. Edward’s choice of Elizabeth may also have signalled his growing independence from the powerful magnate Warwick the Kingmaker (who had alternative marriage plans for Edward). And it wasn’t as if Edward was marrying a peasant – though Elizabeth’s father was a mere knight, her mother sprang from the royal line of Luxembourg.
For all that, there’s no reason to doubt that this was a match made chiefly on the grounds of personal attraction. In fact, it was perhaps the first such in English royal history – but not the last. It could be argued that it was with Elizabeth Woodville that the notion of marriage for love as a viable option entered the chronicles of British royalty. Following her lead, all of Elizabeth’s royal grandchildren – Henry VIII, Margaret Tudor and Mary Tudor – displayed a belief in their right to personal happiness; a belief that marriage and love should not be wholly different matters; a belief which, in May 2018, we witnessed once more in the wedding of Meghan Markle to Prince Harry.
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Did she exploit her power to enrich her cronies?
Of all the charges levelled at Elizabeth down the centuries, the one that she unreasonably enriched her whole extensive family has arguably proved the most damaging.
The way the Woodvilles and their connections hoovered up positions and advantageous marriages was certainly remarkable. (One of Elizabeth’s brothers, aged around 20, was married to the Duchess of Norfolk, in her sixties.) A Milanese envoy reported that the Woodvilles “had the entire government of this realm”. But Elizabeth was only doing what any contemporary would have done, and it is debatable how much of the Woodville advancement was really implemented on the queen’s initiative. In an age when kin was key, Edward himself may have used these marriages and gifts of offices to strengthen his own power base.
And on a broader point, what can we say of Elizabeth’s role as queen consort? Clearly not everyone in the English court was enamoured of Edward’s choice of wife, but the king himself certainly thought highly of his queen’s abilities. So much so that, when he crossed the English Channel to lead an invasion of France in 1475, he left his small son, Edward, as ‘Keeper of the Realm’, and that son in Elizabeth’s charge. The will he made then names her the first of 10 executors: “Our said dearest wife in whom we have most singularly put our trust.”
Yet despite being loaded with such great responsibilities, Elizabeth was not a political animal. There is no evidence of her having exercised overt political influence – and, having witnessed the influential role that Margaret of Anjou played during her husband, Henry VI’s fraught reign, many of Elizabeth’s contemporaries would have regarded this as a good thing.
Away from the political arena, Elizabeth seems to have had a lot going for her as a queen. She was beautiful, a patroness of arts and industry, and a gracious presence at ceremonies. For example, in 1472, she entertained the visiting Flemish courtier Lord Gruuthuse to a great banquet with dancing in her own chamber, and was noted as having ordered the resplendent cloth of gold hangings for his bed.
Above all she was fruitful, presenting Edward with 10 children, most of whom survived the perils of infancy. In other words, for as long as her husband was alive, Elizabeth seemed the model of what a late-medieval queen was supposed to be.
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Could Elizabeth have saved her sons from Richard III?
When in April 1483 Edward IV suddenly died, he left the throne to his 12-year-old son, another Edward, who was being raised in Ludlow, Shropshire under the tutelage of Elizabeth’s talented brother Anthony Woodville. Elizabeth’s first instinct may have been conciliatory – one contemporary chronicler described how she “most beneficently tried to extinguish every spark of murmuring and disturbance” as the crown was passed to her son. But this wasn’t enough to allay the fears of some people – notably Richard of Gloucester – that the boy would grow up wholly under Woodville influence. When Richard intercepted Edward and Anthony Woodville on the journey to London, Elizabeth immediately fled with her other children and her belongings into the sanctuary of Westminster Abbey.
In June, Richard wrote to York for men to assist him “against the queen, her bloody adherents and affinity” who he claimed were trying to murder him. But he had not yet declared any intention of seizing the throne for himself; and it was on this basis that Elizabeth was persuaded – or coerced – into allowing her younger son, Richard, to be taken away from her to join his brother in the Tower of London.
Immediately afterwards, the elder Richard’s adherents started spreading stories that the marriage of Edward and Elizabeth was invalidated by the former king’s precontract to Eleanor Butler. Their sons were thus declared illegitimate, and as the summer wore on the boys disappeared from view, their fate one of the most debated mysteries of British history.
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When did she learn that the princes in the Tower were dead?
In that summer of 1483 Elizabeth, still in sanctuary, entered into a conspiracy with an unlikely ally: Margaret Beaufort, the mother of Henry Tudor, who since the death of Henry VI had been the Lancastrian claimant to the English throne. A marriage was agreed between Elizabeth’s eldest daughter, Elizabeth of York, and Margaret’s son, Henry, and both ladies would raise their supporters against Richard.
It is often said that Elizabeth Woodville’s actions showed she believed her sons were dead. Why else would she support a plan to promote Henry Tudor? Polydore Vergil, a few decades on, dramatically described how she heard of their murder, and “with lamentable shrieks made all the house ring, she struck her breast, tore and cut her hair”.
But it is unclear whether the rebellion initially planned to place Henry Tudor on the throne, or whether that came only after rumours of the princes' death began to spread. Edward IV himself had discussed the possibility of marrying his daughter to Henry, and thus bringing the Lancastrian heir safely into the fold. Either way, the rebellion failed, and in January 1484 Elizabeth Woodville was stripped of her queenly status and income.
Two months later, “dame Elizabeth Grey, late calling herself Queen of England” was persuaded to leave sanctuary and allow her elder daughters to go to their uncle Richard’s court. It has been argued she would never have done so unless she had by now come to believe Richard was innocent of her sons’ deaths – or even that they had not died at all. Elizabeth disappears from the records for the rest of Richard’s reign, which paves the way for one theory that the younger of her sons, at least, survived and was given into her charge, in an obscure part of the country.
But it is equally possible that she was enough of a pragmatist simply to realise that some sort of life had to be made for her surviving daughters, whatever had happened to her sons. They could not remain in sanctuary indefinitely.
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Did she support a revolt against Henry VII?
Yes – and no. After Henry seized the English crown from Richard III – and brought the Wars of the Roses to an end – he fulfilled his promise to marry Elizabeth’s daughter Elizabeth of York. He also restored his new mother-in-law to her rank as queen dowager, giving her a grant for life of six manors in Essex and an annual income of £102. When Elizabeth of York gave birth to a son, the infant’s godmother, Elizabeth Woodville, carried the little prince to the high altar at the christening.
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But less than a year into the new reign, Elizabeth had already begun negotiating a lease on a manor within the precincts of Westminster Abbey. Her position at court might well have been difficult given the pre-eminence of that other dowager figure, Margaret Beaufort, ‘My Lady the King’s Mother’.
Soon Elizabeth would, willingly or otherwise, find her plans changing again. In February 1487 all the lands granted to her were taken away from her – albeit only to be given to her daughter. She was given a small annuity and, abruptly, took up residence in Bermondsey Abbey.
Elizabeth may herself have chosen this retirement, but the timing is suggestive, coming hard on the heels of a threat to Henry VII’s throne. In 1487, Lambert Simnel was made the figurehead of a Yorkist uprising against Henry and at first claimed (though he later changed his story) to be the younger of the princes in the Tower. There may have been some fear that a discontented Elizabeth – resentful that Henry seemed determined to keep his wife, Elizabeth’s daughter, in the background – might lend a rebel her support.
Certainly Elizabeth’s life ahead lay mostly in the convent, with only a very few recorded appearances at court, and her death on 8 June 1492 was followed by a humble and almost shabby funeral with (as a herald noted) “nothing done solemnly”.
This article was first published in the May 2018 edition of BBC History Magazine
]]> 8 things you (probably) didn’t know about the Woodvilles https://www.historyextra.com/membership/8-things-you-probably-didnt-know-about-the-woodvilles/ Fri, 07 Jun 2019 09:10:57 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/membership/8-things-you-probably-didnt-know-about-the-woodvilles/ In 1464, England's most eligible bachelor, King Edward IV, shocked the nation by announcing that he had taken a bride: Elizabeth Woodville, an impoverished widow with two young sons. The match brought his queen's family into the thick of the Wars of the Roses... One of 12 surviving siblings, Elizabeth herself was the product of a runaway match between Jacquetta, Duchess of Bedford, and a knight, Sir Richard Woodville. Here, Susan Higginbotham, author of The Woodvilles: The War of the Roses and England's Most Infamous Family, reveals eight things you might not have known about Edward IV's in-laws…
Jacquetta, Duchess of Bedford, could have become queen
When Henry V died in 1422, he left his infant son, Henry VI, as king. During the royal minority, Henry V's younger brothers, John, Duke of Bedford, and Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, governed the kingdom – Bedford was in charge of the crown's French possessions, while Gloucester handled affairs at home.
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In 1433, the widowed Bedford took as his second wife Jacquetta de Luxembourg, the 17-year-old niece of the Bishop of Thérouanne. Had little Henry VI died, under the usual order of succession Bedford would have become king of England, and Jacquetta his queen.
This, of course, did not happen. Instead, Bedford died after just two years of marriage, leaving Henry VI to grow up to rule disastrously on his own, and Jacquetta to make a shocking, secret marriage to Sir Richard Woodville, the son of Bedford's chamberlain. But although Jacquetta never wore a crown, her daughter Elizabeth Woodville would, through making her own clandestine marriage to Edward IV.
Elizabeth Woodville founded Queens' College – again
Margaret of Anjou, Henry VI's queen, founded a college at Cambridge in 1448. When Henry VI lost his crown to Edward IV, the college fell on hard times. Enter Elizabeth, Edward's queen. In 1465 she refounded the college, and gave it its first statutes 10 years later.
It is often said that the placement of the apostrophe in Queens' reflects the fact that two queens founded the college, but the college disputes that story. Even if Elizabeth can't claim credit for the placement of an apostrophe, her portrait hangs in the college.
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Jacquetta, Duchess of Bedford, was accused of witchcraft
In 1469, Edward had a falling-out with Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, over foreign policy and over what Warwick believed was the undue influence Edward gave to upstarts such as the Woodvilles.
Relations between the two deteriorated to the point where Warwick revolted against Edward, taking him prisoner and killing Elizabeth Woodville's father and her brother John.
During this period of upheaval, a follower of Warwick produced some lead images that he claimed Jacquetta had made for the purposes of witchcraft and sorcery. Despite the shock of her recent bereavement, Jacquetta refused to be cowed by the accusations, and wrote to the mayor and the aldermen of London for their assistance, which they granted.
Further intervention proved unnecessary, however, for Warwick found it decidedly awkward to keep holding the king captive, and released him. With Edward back in charge, the king’s council cleared Jacquetta of the charges against her. The accusations of witchcraft did not die, however, but were revived by Richard III in 1484, when his parliament declared that Jacquetta had used witchcraft to procure her daughter's marriage to the king.
Anthony Woodville helped save London from a Lancastrian attack
Warwick reconciled with Edward IV, but the amity was short-lived. In 1470, Warwick allied with the exiled Margaret of Anjou to put the now imprisoned Henry VI back on the throne. Having been forced to flee the country, Edward IV returned to reclaim the throne and defeated the Lancastrians at the battles of Barnet (14 April 1471) and Tewkesbury (4 May 1471).
The Yorkist victory at Tewkesbury, however, did not end the conflict. Although Warwick was killed at Barnet, and Henry VI's teenage son was killed at Tewkesbury, Henry VI remained alive inside the Tower of London. With the thought of freeing him, a Neville relation known as the Bastard of Fauconberg launched an attack on London, which Edward had left in the charge of the Earl of Essex and Anthony, Earl Rivers, Elizabeth Woodville's brother.
As Fauconberg's men attacked Aldgate, Anthony drove them back, thus helping save London for the Yorkists – a feat his contemporaries would remember in verse: "Through his enemies that day did he pass / The mariners were killed, they cried "Alas!"
While abroad, Anthony Woodville was robbed
The most cultivated of the Woodville family, Anthony went on pilgrimage to Italy in 1476. The 2nd Earl Rivers did not travel light, and in Venice he was robbed of his jewels and plate, which were worth at least 1,000 marks.
It helps a traveller, however, to be the brother-in-law of the king of England. The Venetians promptly set about searching for the criminals and restoring to Anthony his jewels – which had been purchased by local citizens – while arranging to reimburse those who had bought the purloined goods in good faith. When Anthony finally resumed his travels, the Venetians were probably happy to see the last of him, as he had been a rather expensive visitor.
Anthony Woodville was a ‘techie’
In late 1475 or early 1476, William Caxton brought a newfangled device to England – the printing press. Soon he had produced the first book printed in England: an edition of Geoffrey Chaucer’s ever-popular Canterbury Tales.
The nobility, however, were slow to embrace this new technology, with Edward IV himself preferring to amass illuminated manuscripts. One nobleman, however, seized upon this new opportunity to disseminate knowledge to the masses: Anthony Woodville. He translated three books for Caxton to print, and may have been responsible for sending several others to press as well.
Caxton even made a joke about Anthony's love life. In his epilogue to Anthony's translation of The Dictes and Sayings of the Philosophers (a book which, sadly, has not withstood the test of time), Caxton noted that Anthony had omitted some of Socrates' unflattering observations about women. He surmised: “But I suppose that some fair lady hath desired him to leave it out of his book. Or else he was amorous on some noble lady…”
The Woodvilles didn't rob the treasury
In 1483, Edward IV suddenly died, leaving a 12-year-old heir, Edward. By the time the dust settled, Edward IV's younger brother, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, was king (Richard III), and Prince Edward and his younger brother had been taken to the Tower of London, never to be seen again.
For reasons that remain debatable, Gloucester arrested Anthony Woodville and several others after Edward IV's death, and Elizabeth Woodville fled into sanctuary. Legend has it she took with her part of the royal treasury, which she supposedly divvied up between one of her brothers and her oldest son from her first marriage. But did this really happen?
The sole source for the story is an Italian observer, Dominic Mancini, who reported the treasury story only as a rumour he had heard, not as an established fact. Richard III never accused Elizabeth or her family of stealing royal treasure, nor is there is any evidence that he believed any treasure was missing. In fact, as historian Rosemary Horrox has shown, excursions against the Scots had left the treasury seriously depleted by the time Edward IV died, and defending the realm against French pirates left England even poorer.
One Woodville, however, did acquire a very large sum during this time: Sir Edward Woodville, Elizabeth Woodville's youngest brother, who was busy patrolling the seas when Anthony was captured. In mid-May 1483 he seized some £10,250 in English gold from a vessel, claiming it for the crown. Soon afterward, learning that Gloucester had ordered his arrest, Edward sailed to Brittany – presumably taking his gold with him, for it was never heard of again.
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Sir Edward Woodville lost his teeth for Ferdinand and Isabella
Having helped Henry Tudor defeat Richard III at the battle of Bosworth in 1485, Edward went to Spain the following year to fight the ‘infidels’, possibly in fulfillment of a vow. Having joined forces led by Ferdinand and Isabella to fight the Moors, Edward was mounting a scaling ladder when he was struck by a stone that knocked him unconscious and cost him his two front teeth.
Visited later by Henry VII and his queen, Edward quipped of his missing teeth: “Our Lord, who reared this fabric, has only opened a window in order to discern the more readily what passes within.”
When Edward finally returned to England, he did not go empty-handed: Queen Isabella sent him away with 12 Andalusian horses, two beds with rich hangings, and other valuables. But Edward's next foreign adventure proved to be his last: in 1488, he was killed while fighting for Brittany against France.
Susan Higginbotham is the author of The Woodvilles: The War of the Roses and England's Most Infamous Family (The History Press, March 2015), the first non-fiction book on the Woodville family. To find out more, click here.
This article was first published by History Extra in May 2015.
]]> The secret intimacies of Edward IV: multiple marriages and a same-sex affair? https://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/the-secret-intimacies-of-edward-iv-multiple-marriages-and-a-same-sex-affair/ Mon, 09 Apr 2018 08:00:43 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/the-secret-intimacies-of-edward-iv-multiple-marriages-and-a-same-sex-affair/ King Edward IV is remembered by many for his role in the Wars of the Roses, the 30-year struggle between the Houses of Lancaster and York for the English throne, and for his relationship with Elizabeth Woodville. Here, historian John Ashdown-Hill re-examines what is known about the private life of the monarch, from his possible bigamy to secret same-sex intimacies, and questions many 'facts' traditionally assigned to the first Yorkist king of England My research on the story of King Richard III began in the 1990s, and focused initially upon the allegation that he was a ‘usurper’. That was a story which was later initiated by Henry VII, who seized Richard’s throne, killed him, and then blackened his reputation. But the truth is that Richard was offered the throne by the three estates of the realm on the grounds that his elder brother, Edward IV, had committed bigamy, making Edward’s children by Elizabeth Widville illegitimate. (Her maiden surname is commonly spelt ‘Woodville’, but contemporary sources suggest that Widville or Wydville were more commonly employed in the 15th century. I therefore use ‘Widville’.)
The story of Edward IV’s bigamy intrigued me. As a result, my initial research focused upon the true story of Eleanor Talbot – the lady who was formally acknowledged in an act of parliament of 1484 as “married” to King Edward. Although some historians have questioned Eleanor’s existence, I established clearly her identity, with the support of solid evidence. A picture emerged that supported the proposition that she had a relationship with King Edward IV. For example, the king appears to have given her land. Also he sent presents to her former father-in-law, Lord Sudeley, while Eleanor was alive – though following her death he changed tack and destroyed Lord Sudeley. It was also clear that the legality of Edward IV’s subsequent marriage with Elizabeth Widville had always been questioned.
A new date of birth?
My research on the bigamy accusations led me to investigate all the other alleged stories about Edward IV and his private life. Once I’d started, it rapidly emerged that, while most biographies of the king have traditionally claimed that he was born on 28 April 1442, most of them cite no source for that assertion. This is a problem, because some historians have used this birth date to back a claim that Edward himself was illegitimate.
A political story, promoted by the French government and other opponents of Edward IV after he became king of England, hinted that his mother had a love affair with an archer. As a result, it was suggested that the archer, rather than Richard Duke of York, was Edward’s biological father. Some modern historians have sought to back that claim by asserting that the Duke of York was not with his wife at the time of Edward’s conception. But of course, that claim is based upon Edward IV’s alleged birth date.
When I sought out evidence for the date in question, I discovered that actually only one 15th-century source mentions 28 April 1442. Unfortunately, that source erroneously claims that the day in question was a Monday. What’s more, another source offers a different date for Edward’s birth. In short, I believe we can no longer claim to know for certain precisely when Edward was born.
Who was Edward’s real father?
The allegations of illegitimacy have, of course, thrown Edward’s relationship with his theoretical father, Richard Duke of York, into question. However, letters written by the Duke of York to King Charles VII of France – attempting (and failing) to set up a prestigious marriage for Edward with one of the daughters of the king of France – indicate that the duke considered Edward to be his son. That point is proved even more clearly by the wording that the duke used. In the surviving letters, he repeatedly refers to Edward as his son and heir.
In his own writing, Edward naturally addressed the duke as his father. His letters suggest that a good relationship existed between them.
Same-sex relationships
When the Duke of York was killed in 1460, young Edward was still unmarried – and remained so when he became king of England. Shortly after his accession, however, Edward became involved with the beautiful Eleanor Talbot, and the most likely date for their secret marriage seems to have been Monday 8 June 1461, when the itinerary of Edward IV, as published in my latest book, reveals that Edward was in the vicinity of Eleanor’s Warwickshire manor houses.
Eleanor had produced no children by her first husband, Sir Thomas Boteler, and she doesn’t seem to have become pregnant as a result of her relationship with the king. Edward IV therefore found himself confronted by a fruitless relationship. But about 18 months after his secret marriage with Eleanor, Edward encountered one of her first cousins, who may well have shared Eleanor’s good looks, and who also, it seems, attracted the king. The cousin in question was Henry Beaufort, Duke of Somerset. A wealth of clear contemporary evidence suggests that Edward loved Henry and that the two men slept together.
This is by no means the only instance of an English king having a same-sex relationship. Earlier examples involved both Richard the Lionheart and King Edward II. Although Richard I’s same-sex relationship worried his father, Henry II, the intimacy took place in France, and aroused no hostile response in England. Edward II wasn’t so lucky. Likewise the relationship between Edward IV and the Duke of Somerset aroused opposition in some quarters. This led to an attack on the Duke of Somerset, which finally helped to break up his relationship with the king.
Another secret marriage?
Later accounts – beginning with the version of ‘history’ written by the Tudor grandee Sir Thomas More – suggest that, around this time, Edward IV took on a relationship with another young woman, Elizabeth Lucy. More even went as far as to claim that Edward IV was believed, in some quarters, to have secretly married Elizabeth Lucy. More offers a detailed story of how the young king’s mother supposedly knew of this relationship. He also asserts that Richard III’s subsequent claim to the throne was based upon the premise of Edward and Lucy’s marriage.
More goes on to say that the claim was false – making Richard III a usurper. While the offering of the English crown to Richard III was indeed based upon evidence that Edward IV had committed bigamy, the evidence clearly shows that the alleged first (and legal) wife of the young king was not called Elizabeth Lucy. She was, in fact, Lady Eleanor Talbot.
Sadly, there’s not a shred of contemporary evidence that a woman called Elizabeth Lucy ever existed – let alone that she had a relationship with Edward IV. The logical conclusion is that Thomas More’s allegations were simply part of the attempt made by Henry VII and his successors to ensure that the name of Eleanor Talbot was written out of history. Henry VII had initiated this process in 1485, when he repealed unquoted the 1484 act of parliament that had acknowledged Eleanor as “married” to King Edward. On that occasion, Henry VII stated specifically that his aim was “that all thinges said and remembered in the said Bill and Acte thereof maie be for ever out of remembraunce and allso forgot”.
However, surviving letters written in 1533 and 1534 by Eustace Chapuys, the ambassador of Emperor Charles V at the court of Henry VIII, show that Henry VII hadn’t succeeded in putting the story of Eleanor’s marriage to Edward IV “out of remembraunce” on the European mainland. Therefore ongoing work was required for the sake of England’s new reigning dynasty.
Thomas More also asserted that the king had a love affair with a “Mistress Shore”. But, as in the case of Elizabeth Lucy, not a single shred of contemporary evidence exists to show that Edward IV had anything to do with Mistress Shore. Unlike Elizabeth Lucy, however, Mistress Shore definitely did exist. Her maiden name was Elizabeth Lambert.
A marriage for her was arranged by her family, and her first husband was called William Shore. Unfortunately, that marriage proved difficult, and the young wife appealed to the church for its annulment. Eventually she married again. Before that, however, she had two love affairs: one with Lord Hastings, and the other with Edward IV’s step-son, the Marquis of Dorset. Curiously, a number of sources prove that her first husband, William Shore, was a supporter of Edward IV, and worked with him. However, no contemporary sources ever claim that Mistress Shore had a relationship with the king.
Heaps of illegitimate children?
The traditional story of Edward IV’s private life asserts not only that he had mistresses, but also that he produced heaps of illegitimate children. However, that too proves to be untrue. The king is recorded as only acknowledging one illegitimate child during his reign. It was a boy, but his name is unknown. Previous historians tended to assume that the boy in question was Arthur Wayte/Plantagenet, later Lord Lisle. However, the evidence clearly shows that Arthur was only finally acknowledged as a royal ‘bastard’ many years after the death of his alleged father. So he cannot have been the illegitimate child who was accorded formal recognition by Edward IV himself.
Curiously, however, one or two girls also seem to have been recognised as illegitimate daughters of Edward IV years later, during the reign of Henry VII. One possible explanation for this is that Richard III was offered the throne on the assumption that Edward’s children by Elizabeth Widville were illegitimate!
The power behind the throne
For all the question marks hanging over her marriage to the king, Elizabeth Widville seems to have exercised a great deal of influence over Edward IV. Despite later stories that he had many love affairs, from 1464 until his death in 1483, Edward seems to have been rather fond of his wife.
Elizabeth Widville was acknowledged as Edward’s legal wife during his reign, and her children were also officially recognised as the heirs to the throne. However, their status was always questioned in some quarters. Even members of the royal family – including the king’s own middle brother, George, Duke of Clarence – disputed their claims. One result was that George was imprisoned and executed – apparently on the orders of Elizabeth Widville herself. A contemporary report written by Italian diplomat Domenico Mancini certainly suggests that this was the case.
Elizabeth’s later conduct confirms that she took a strong role in politics. Following Edward IV’s death, with the aid of members of her own family, she attempted a coup to enable herself to act as regent for her young son. But in 15th-century England, regency powers were always assigned to the senior living prince of the blood royal – not to the mother. Thus when Edward IV died, according to English custom, power belonged in the hands of his surviving brother: Richard, Duke of Gloucester, who would, of course, go on to become King Richard III…
The late John Ashdown-Hill was a historian and the author of The Private Life of Edward IV (Amberley Publishing, November 2016). To find out more about the author, visit www.johnashdownhill.com
This article was first published on HistoryExtra in March 2017
]]> On the trail of the Yorks: 8 places associated with Richard III’s family https://www.historyextra.com/membership/on-the-trail-of-the-yorks-8-places-associated-with-richard-iiis-family/ Fri, 22 Jul 2016 08:22:49 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/membership/on-the-trail-of-the-yorks-8-places-associated-with-richard-iiis-family/ Richard III is the House of York’s best-known and most controversial figure. Yet many other members of this family are equally intriguing – from Richard’s older brother Edward IV to Elizabeth Woodville and her daughter Elizabeth of York. In her latest book, On the Trail of the Yorks, Kristie Dean visits the places that shaped each of their lives, discovering their stories through the locations they visited and inhabited Here, writing for History Extra, Dean explores eight places associated with one of history’s most fascinating families…
Richard, Duke of York, and Old St Paul’s Cathedral
Construction on Old St Paul’s Cathedral was begun in 1087. Following a disastrous fire, it had to be largely rebuilt in the 12th century. The structure was immense, dominating the skyline of London for many years. A large wall completely surrounded the cathedral, complete with six precinct gates that were opened every morning.
It was through one of these gates that Richard, Duke of York would pass in order to swear an oath to Henry VI following his failed move against the king at Dartford. As York entered the cathedral, he would have walked beneath the nave’s intricately groined ceiling as he moved through the crowded room towards the high altar. Light streaming in through the exquisite Rose Window would have flooded the room as he made his way up the steps. Standing at the high altar, in front of the tablet encrusted with sparkling jewels, he made his oath to Henry on the sacrament.
A few years later, on 25 March 1458, York would revisit the cathedral as part of the ‘loveday’ procession. This parade of nobles to St Paul’s Cathedral was part of Henry VI’s plan to demonstrate that peace had been restored between competing Lancastrian and Yorkists factions in the kingdom. During the procession, York and Queen Margaret walked hand in hand towards St Paul’s Cathedral. Once inside the nave, with its 12 bays and vaulted ceilings, the group heard Mass. Following the service, the group once again left in procession. While peace seemed to have been restored, the underlying problems had not been addressed, ultimately leading to war.
Cecily Neville and Baynard’s Castle, London
Resting on the banks of the Thames, Baynard’s Castle was an impressive home. Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester had rebuilt the residence just west of Paul’s Wharf following a terrible fire in the 15th century. The home eventually passed into the hands of Richard, Duke of York.
Baynard’s Castle was a favourite residence of Richard III’s mother, Cecily Neville, for many years. She was most likely here when she learned of her husband’s death at the 1460 battle of Wakefield, a major battle in the Wars of the Roses, and fearing for her younger sons’ safety, arranged for them to be sent abroad. She, along with her daughter Margaret, stayed and awaited news of Edward’s progress. Following her eldest son’s entrance into the city, a large council met at Baynard’s Castle to ask him to be king. After Edward left the city to defend his new crown, Cecily and Margaret stayed in London.
The Bishop of Elphin (a bishop from Ireland) was at Baynard’s with Cecily when she received news of the 1461 battle of Towton. He wrote to the Bishop of Terni (a bishop from the Roman Catholic Diocese in Belgium, also known as Tournai) saying that he “was present in the house of the Duchess of York” when news of the battle was delivered. After Cecily heard the news, she, along with the bishop, climbed the broad staircase and returned to the chapel to say Te Deum. Her son, the future Edward IV, had won a significant victory.
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South front of Baynard's Castle, London, in about 1640 (1904). By artist Andrew Birrell. (Photo by The Print Collector/Getty Images)
Anne Neville and Cerne Abbey
As the daughter of the Earl of Warwick, a leading noble who was a staunch supporter of the Yorkist faction, Anne Neville grew up in a Yorkist family. Eventually, following a break with Edward IV, Warwick switched loyalties to the Lancastrian faction, who supported Henry VI as king. Part of the agreement between Warwick and Queen Margaret, Henry VI’s wife, included the marriage of Anne to Prince Edward, the Lancastrian heir. Warwick was sent back to England to prepare the way for Anne and her new husband’s arrival.
After leaving France in 1471, Anne Neville, as part of the Lancastrian party, landed at Weymouth. Following their arrival, they learned of the disastrous defeat at Barnet [in April 1471] and of the death of Anne’s father. While we have no record of Anne’s feelings, Queen Margaret, according to Vergil, “swownyd for feare; she was distrawght, dismayd, and tormentyd with sorow…” She soon recovered, and, gathering her supporters, moved inland.
Making their way to Cerne Abbey, the group was welcomed and offered the abbey’s guesthouse, which had been built by Abbot John Vanne. The abbey, which had been founded in the 10th century, had several wealthy benefactors throughout its history, including Edward IV. Nestled in the Dorset hills, the abbey grew both in wealth and in property. The guesthouse that Margaret, Prince Edward and Anne would have seen was opulently decorated.
Safely ensconced within the abbey walls, Margaret met with advisors to determine her best course of action. Should they retreat back to France or continue onwards without Warwick? While she probably did not have a voice in the decision, Anne would have been present for the discussions that would determine her future. As the room was comfortably warmed by the fire in the large fireplace ornamented with Vanne’s crest, Anne would have listened to her husband and mother-in-law consult with their supporters. It was here that a decision was made to move forward towards battle, which ultimately would end in her husband’s death on a field at Tewkesbury in May 1471.
Edward IV, Elizabeth Woodville and Reading Abbey
Elizabeth Woodville, the Lancastrian widow of Sir John Grey [whose family had supported the Lancastrian cause], married Edward IV in the May of 1464, but she had to wait for several months before a public pronouncement was made because the Earl of Warwick was at the time promoting a marriage with France. In September 1464, Edward met with his council at Reading. During the meeting, Edward dropped the bombshell that he had married Woodville some months earlier.
The announcement sent ripples of dismay through the court. John Wenlock reported in a letter that the king’s announcement had caused “great displeasure to many great lords, and especially to the larger part of all his council”. Most of the nobles realised that they would have to reconcile themselves to the marriage, however, since it had already occurred.
On Michaelmas Day, the Duke of Clarence (Edward IV’s brother), and the Earl of Warwick escorted Elizabeth into the large church at Reading Abbey. The church, built with Caen stone, was impressive. The nave was more than 200 feet long and 40 feet wide, and the choir was about 100 feet long. Highly decorated, with beautiful stained glass, elaborate wall paintings, soaring columns and paved floors, the church was a fitting place for Elizabeth to be presented as Edward’s queen to those assembled.
George, Duke of Clarence, and Warwick Castle
Perched on a rocky cliff above the river Avon, Warwick Castle was a residence of several members of the York family. Edward, George, Richard and Anne Neville all spent time in the impressive fortress, which was originally built as a motte-and-bailey castle by William the Conqueror. The castle passed from the Beauchamps and then to the Nevilles, before coming to George, Duke of Clarence.
George and his wife, Isabel Neville, often stayed at Warwick. Entering through the projecting barbican, flanked by a pair of octagonal turrets, the couple would have walked across the drawbridge over the dry moat. Once inside, they would have made their way to their chambers. It was in her chambers at Warwick that Isabel gave birth on 25 February 1475 to Edward. Soon, George’s heir would join his older sister, Margaret, in the nursery.
While often the scene of joyous events, such as the birth of Edward, the castle was also host to tragedy. Isabel gave birth to another son, Richard, in 1476 and both she and the child were brought to Warwick where Isabel died, perhaps of childbed fever. The baby also died. After the death of his wife and child, George arrested Ankarette Twynho, one of his wife’s servants, and accused her of poisoning the duchess. He had her brought to Warwick, where she was tried, convicted and hanged. This was one of George’s last acts, as he was soon arrested and placed in the Tower of London.
Warwick Castle. (© David Steele/Dreamstime.com)
Margaret, Duchess of Burgundy, and the Palace of Placentia (Greenwich)
Once her brother, Edward, became king in 1461 Margaret was housed at Greenwich and provided for by him. The palace, which included gardens, courtyards and a 200-acre park, extended from the Thames to the foot of the hill, where Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester had built a stone tower. In his first years as king, Edward IV enlarged the palace and stocked the park with deer.
When Margaret returned to England in 1480 as part of an embassy attempting to draw her brother into an Anglo-Burgundian alliance against France, Edward arranged for an elaborate procession for his sister. The king had provided the royal barge for Margaret, with the master and 24 bargemen attired in new jackets of murrey and blue, embellished with roses. The horses were wearing harnesses of “green velvet, garnished with aglets of silver gilt, bordered with spangels…” Arriving at Greenwich, Margaret was escorted to her opulent chambers, complete with intricately woven tapestries and a feather bed with a valence of velvet. Pieces of woven wool tapestry covered the table containing images of “roses, sunnes and crowns”.
While she was at Greenwich, a large state dinner was given in both Margaret’s and Cecily’s honour. Most of her family, including Edward, Richard and her sister, Elizabeth, Duchess of Suffolk were in attendance. Margaret stayed in England for about three months, alternating between Greenwich and Coldharbour.
Anne, Duchess of Exeter, and Dartington Hall
Anne was the elder sister of Edward IV, George and Richard III. In 1446 she was married to Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter, who chose to side with the Lancastrians against her father and brothers. His decision eventually led to his downfall. After her husband’s attainder (the forfeiture of his lands and civil rights) in 1461, Anne received grants of land from her brother, which included much of the Exeter inheritance, and retained custody of her daughter. One of the grants of land she received included Dartington Hall, which came to her because of “the true and deep affection which the aforesaid Anne, our sister, has and bears towards us”.
A residence has stood on the land overlooking the River Dart since the 12th century. Richard II granted the area to his half-brother, John Holland, who erected most of the buildings, including a set of buildings laid out in a large double quadrangle. The old hall, located at the north-east corner of the quadrangle, was the earliest part of the structure and dates from the early 14th century.
In the 19th century the home was described by a visitor as “one of the most picturesque and charming seats in Devon… within sound of the murmur of the rushing Dart”.
Following Anne’s death, the home passed through a series of hands, including those of her second husband, Thomas St Leger.
Dartington Hall. (© Jennifer Thompson/Dreamstime.com)
Elizabeth, Duchess of Suffolk, and Wingfield
Elizabeth was the fifth child and second daughter born to Cecily and Richard who survived early childhood. In 1458, she married John de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk. Because his mother, Alice Chaucer, was living at Ewelme, John and Elizabeth made Wingfield their main residence. Much of the news regarding her family would have been delivered to Elizabeth while she was in residence at Wingfield.
A large manor house, Wingfield was located a few miles from Eye. As Elizabeth entered the home for the first time she would have crossed a drawbridge over the moat before making her way through the gateway emblazoned on each side with the arms of her new family. Large turreted towers flanked the gateway. Passing under the portcullis she would have reached the courtyard, where she would have seen the quadrangle plan of the buildings.
Life would have been busy in Elizabeth’s new lodgings. The Great Hall sat along the west side of the building. When visitors arrived, large feasts would be held in the hall, with Elizabeth and John seated on a dais. John and Elizabeth had a large family, and several of their children would have been born in her chambers at Wingfield.
The parish church of St Andrew was also nearby. When Elizabeth entered the church she would have seen the brightly painted panelled ceiling of the nave. The font, where several of the de la Pole children were likely christened, had been given to the church by Michael de la Pole, an ancestor of her husband. Eventually both John and Elizabeth would be buried here.
Kristie Dean is the author of On the Trail of the Yorks (Amberley Publishing, 2016).
]]> Truth, lies and historical fiction: an interview with 'The White Queen' writer Philippa Gregory https://www.historyextra.com/membership/truth-lies-and-historical-fiction-an-interview-with-the-white-queen-writer-philippa-gregory/ Wed, 01 May 2013 12:23:01 GMT https://www.historyextra.com/membership/truth-lies-and-historical-fiction-an-interview-with-the-white-queen-writer-philippa-gregory/ Charlotte Hodgman caught up with the bestselling author in a bid to discover the secrets to turning history into good fiction What do you think is the appeal of historical fiction?
It gets you straight to the things you want to know about: the people, their stories, and their lives. Readers love to know what happened in the past, but don’t necessarily want to get bogged down in the minutiae of the day, such as the economy and the types of crops that were being grown. Historical fiction, when written well, can teach you these things without you having to study it. It can bring history to life.
How do you turn historical facts into good fiction?
A great deal of research, worn very lightly. My job is to write coherent, well‑put-together novels that just happen to be set in the accurately researched past. I spend about two years researching my books – talking to people, visiting places, reading books about the subject – but I would never allow myself to put something in a novel just because I’ve found out about it and thought it was fascinating. It has to be relevant to the story and not simply included for the sake of it.
Is factual accuracy still important when writing historical fiction?
Absolutely! Historical fiction writers need to make the call as to whether to include certain ‘facts’ or not – based on whether they believe they can be justified – just like historians do when they’re writing non-fiction. For example, authors of histories relating to Richard III, writing before the recent excavations in Leicester, would have been well-advised not to suggest he had a crooked spine: there was just no real evidence for it. You might mention it as part of his reputation, but you wouldn’t put it down as historical fact.
How do you strike a balance between depicting the reality of the times with modern-day sensibilities?
No matter how much it goes against your own personal sensibilities, you have to accept the reality of the times – that’s the history bit in historical fiction. My book The Red Queen, for example, discusses the consummation of the marriage between 12-year-old Margaret Beaufort and her 26-year-old husband, Edmund Tudor, a union that resulted in Margaret giving birth, aged 13, to the future Henry VII. The whole episode is very uncomfortable for the reader, but I couldn’t write anything to suggest that it was morally repellent, as it wasn’t to people at the time. You have to write within the sensibilities of the period, especially if you’re writing in the first person.
Your books are written from a female perspective. Why is this?
Women’s history is, in my opinion, still a neglected area, and I’ve often been amazed at the previous lack of curiosity into the lives of some of the women I’ve studied. There is a wealth of information about women such as Elizabeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots, yet I was astonished to find nothing published on the Duchess of Bedford, Lady Rivers, the heroine of my book The Lady of the Rivers. She was mother to Elizabeth Woodville, the queen of England, and such an interesting character. Yet I found myself doing original research on her.
How do you defend historical fiction to its critics?
I find I have to defend historical fiction less now than ever before. People have to understand that it isn’t bad history, and it’s not history written by people who are making it up. Everyone has a different view of certain events and characters, but because I depict mine in a novel people are often disturbed by it. What I do find surprising is that often only the history side of my novels is criticised. What people don’t do, and what they should, is also critique them as novels – neither side is primary.
How much input into the BBC TV series, The White Queen, did you have?
I was keen to have as much input as possible and ultimately worked as associate producer on the series. I read all the scripts, met the actors and visited the set; I am delighted with how it’s turned out. It looks absolutely wonderful, and people are going to find it very compelling to watch.
The series combines the stories of three of the four books in my Cousins’ War series, set against the backdrop of the Wars of the Roses: The White Queen, The Red Queen and The Kingmaker’s Daughter. So we see the period through the eyes of three very different women: Elizabeth Woodville, the Lancastrian-turned-Yorkist queen; Margaret Beaufort, founder of the Tudor dynasty; and Anne Neville, younger daughter of ‘the kingmaker’.
It was important to me that their stories weren’t told in isolation. The series doesn’t just look at one woman coping with the misogyny of the medieval world; it looks at all of them, as it should. They were all engaged in that struggle.
What do you think makes for good historical drama on TV?
If you’re going to make a historical drama, you’ve got to have some drama! That means well-defined, interesting characters. The White Queen, unlike many historical dramas, doesn’t depict women as passive recipients of the big sweep of history. That seems to me to be a far more interesting way to tell the story, and one that is far truer to life.
How important is authenticity when filming historical dramas?
Terribly important! You should see the notes I sent to the series producers waxing lyrical about the use of horses, clothes, how people travelled, and so on. That sort of thing really matters. However, there are a number of compromises you do have to make when working in film, which can be very frustrating – that’s why I’m a novelist, I suppose.
Philippa Gregory is author of a number of books, including The Cousins’ War series, which follows the lives of four powerful women during the Wars of the Roses. You can find out more about her work at www.philippagregory.com
This article's first published in the May 2013 issue of BBC History Magazine
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