Sunday, December 17, 2017

Editors Weekly Round-up, December 17, 2017

by the EHFA Editors

Enjoy our round-up of articles from the blog this week.

by Maria Grace

by Catherine Curzon

by Brindy Wilcox

by Mark Patton

by Blaise
(open until midnight PST, Sunday, December 17)

Saturday, December 16, 2017

An Emperor's Christmas at Eltham in 1400

by Mark Patton

The south London suburb of Eltham today seems an improbable location for a Medieval Christmas celebration involving kings and emperors, but the area was, in the Fifteenth Century, in open countryside, just a day's ride from London, but sufficiently distant from the polluted Thames and from the frequently plague-ridden capital, for a King of England to entertain his guests in style and to enjoy, with them, the favoured pastimes of the time and season, notably hunting and jousting.

Eltham Palace: the Medieval great hall is on the right; the buildings on the left
were added in the 1930s, as the private home of Stephen and Virginia Courtauld.
Photo: Nick Blackburn (licensed under CCA).

Over the Christmas season of 1400-1401, the King in question was Henry IV, and his guests included the Byzantine Emperor, Manuel II Palaeologus. We refer today to the "Byzantine Empire," but nobody who lived in it ever thought of it as anything other than the "Roman Empire." Although his capital was Constantinople, not Rome, and his people spoke Greek, rather than Latin, Manuel regarded himself as the heir to the empires of Augustus and of Hadrian: and of Constantine, who had made the empire Christian and moved the capital eastward to a new city named after himself.

King Henry IV, UK National Archives DL 42/1
(image is in the Public Domain).

Emperor Manuel II Palaeologus,
Bibliotheque Nationale de France
(image is in the Public Domain).

Roman or Byzantine, however, the Empire, in 1400, was crumbling. The schism that had opened up in 1054, between the Eastern Orthodox and Western Catholic Churches, had never been repaired: and in 1204, the forces of the Fourth Crusade, in open defiance of the Pope, had sacked and pillaged Constantinople, dividing much of Byzantine territory up between Catholic French, German and Italian nobles. Now the Empire faced a new threat from the Muslim Ottoman Empire, which had more or less encircled Constantinople, cutting it off from its agricultural hinterland.

The Hippodrome of Constantinople, here shown on a 17th Century print,
was destroyed by the forces of the Fourth Crusade and never restored
(image is in the Public Domain).
The chariot races held here were among the city's last
tangible connections to the Rome of the Caesars.

The Mediterranean World in 1400 (image is in the Public Domain).

Manuel's journey to the west, far from being just a friendly visit, was a life-or-death diplomatic mission to secure the military and financial support that might enable his Empire to survive. One can hardly fail to admire his efforts, but the harsh truth is that it was probably already too late to save the Empire, which would ultimately fall to the Ottomans in 1453.

As a young man, Manuel had been a hostage of the Ottoman Sultan, Bayezid I at Bursa, and had escaped to Constantinople, where he was proclaimed Emperor. Bayezid besieged Constantinople from 1394 to 1402, and it was during a lull in the fighting that Manuel and his family had slipped away from the city to seek support overseas. Leaving his capital under the regency of a nephew, and his wife and children under the protection of his brother in Greece, Manuel traveled to Venice, and on to Padua, Milan, and Paris, where he met the French King, Charles VI.

The meeting of the magi, from Les Tres Riches Heures du Duc de Berry,
Musee Conde (image is in the Public Domain).
The figure on the white horse is believed by some to be styled on Manuel.
Clearly a fine horseman, the fifty year old emperor impressed the Parisian crowd
by leaping from one horse to another without touching the ground. 

His Christmas sojourn in England may, in fact, have been an accident, prompted by a recurrence of the mental illness that had dogged Charles throughout much of his reign. Henry IV, however, was a natural ally. He was more widely traveled than many English monarchs, having participated with the Teutonic Knights, in a "Crusade" against the supposedly Pagan Lithuanians, and having made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, where he had promised to return as a Christian liberator.

Henry met the Emperor at Blackheath, and conducted him, with his forty retainers, to Eltham Palace. Manuel spoke no English, which was unsurprising, but he equally spoke no Latin (the universal language of diplomacy and scholarship in the Catholic west). His entourage must have included men who could translate between Latin and Greek, whilst Henry's court would have included many who could translate from Latin to English. Conversation cannot have been easy; already, from Paris, Manuel had complained in a letter to a Greek friend, that "the difference in language ... did not allow us to converse, as we had wished, with really good men who were extremely anxious to show us favour."

Hunting in December, from Les Tres Riches Heures du Duc de Berry,
Musee Conde (image is in the Public Domain).

The Medieval hall of Eltham Palace (extensively remodeled by Edward IV).
Photo: David Hatch (licensed under CCA). 

Manuel had brought with him Christmas gifts of religious relics: fragments of the True Cross and of garments believed to have been worn by Christ and the Virgin Mary. There was much hunting and feasting, and some of the people of London traveled down to Eltham to entertain the royal party with carols and mumming. Ultimately, however, Manuel returned to Constantinople empty-handed. Neither his English nor his French allies were able to offer any meaningful assistance, their own armies and treasuries seriously depleted by decades of war and plague.

Mark Patton is a published author of historical fiction and non-fiction, whose books can be purchased from Amazon.

Thursday, December 14, 2017

The London Plague 1665

By Brindy Wilcox

Two major events  happened in the winter of 1664.

Firstly, there were sightings of a large comet over London, on which John Gadbury, a distinguished astrologer commented, ‘portends pestiferous and horiible windes and tempests’. An extract from the diary of Samuel Pepys on Thursday 15 December 1664 reads: ‘So to the Coffeehouse, where great talke of the Comet seen in several places’.

Public Domain image via Wikipedia

The second event was the unremarkable recording of the death of Goodwoman Phillips in the parish of Saint Giles in the Fields, outside the City walls of London, on Christmas Eve 1664, where parish searchers pronounced her to have died of the plague. (From: The Great Plague – The Story of London’s Most Deadly Year – A.Lloyd Moote & Dorothy C Moote, John Hopkins University Press 2004.)  Whilst the death would be of concern to the immediate neighbours of Goodwoman Phillips it would not raise concerns with officials, as it was not uncommon for the occasional death from plague to appear on a Bill of Mortality. Old women, known as ‘searchers’, were usually paid pennies by the Parish authorities to determine the cause of death of ordinary people and, with no training, they could be unreliable. These were often elderly female pensioners supported by the local Parish and once the cause of death had been determined they reported it to the parish clerk for inclusion on the London Weekly Bill of Mortality.

Public Domain image via Wikipedia

These events heralded a difficult year for Charles II, who came to the throne in 1660 after the execution of his father, Charles I in 1649 and the death of Oliver Cromwell in 1658, marking an end to republican rule in England. He is probably better remembered for being on the throne during the Great Plague of 1665 and the Fire of London in 1666 than his role during the Anglo-Dutch wars. He was well renowned for his love of dogs and, in particular, the King Charles spaniel, who took their breed name from him. He was rarely seen going anywhere without some of his beloved dogs and even preferred to be entertained by them during meetings when he should have been attending to state business.

Modern King Charles Spaniels - photo supplied by author

The first recorded deaths of the Great Plague appeared on the London Weekly Bill of Mortality in April 1665. There is some discrepancy as to who this is reported to have been with notations quoting both Rebecca Andrews and Margaret Porteous as being the first, the only consistency being they are both reported to have died on April 12th 1665. By early June 1665 recorded deaths from the plague had risen to 112 in a week across 12 parishes. At the time, it was believed that the plague was being spread by dogs and cats and, in an effort to control the disease, the Lord Mayor issued a decree that from July 1st 1665 all cats and dogs within the City of London were to be killed. Householders were told to kill all of their dogs, regardless of breed, or face prosecution and a special team of dog killers were put in place. In an attempt to control the plague it is rumoured that 40,000 dogs and 200,000 cats were slaughtered and that the domestic cat was almost wiped out in London.

The summer of 1665 was one of the hottest driest droughts for many years, ideal conditions for the spread of the plague. By July there were over 1,000 deaths a day from the plague and Samuel Pepys wrote the following in his diary,
“But, Lord! What a sad time it is to see no boats upon the river; and grass grows all up and down White Hall court, and nobody but poor wretches in the streets!” 
The rich had mostly left London to avoid catching the disease, the King and his dogs had gone up to Hampton Court and people needed a Certificate of Health to confirm that they were plague free before they could leave the City of London. These were issued by doctors but, as more and more doctors left London, a black-market trade grew up for people who could afford to pay for a fake certificate. Trade with London had ground to a halt and it was mainly the poor that had nowhere else to go that remained.

Samuel Pepys decided to stay at his home in London, although he did send his wife away to Woolwich during July, when he also made this entry in his diary showing that people would rather admit to murder than admit that they had the plague in their household.

July 22nd 1665
I met this noon with Dr Burnett, who told me, and I find in the news-book this week that he posted upon the Change, that whoever did spread that report that instead of the plague, his servant was by him killed, it was forgery; and showed me the acknowledgement of the maister of the Pest-house that his servant died of a Bubo on his right groine, and two Spots on his right thigh, which is the plague.

The number of deaths peaked in the week of September 19th 1665, when there were 7,185 plague deaths across 126 parishes, with only 4 parishes reportedly being plague-free. Unknown to the authorities the Lord Mayor’s decree had probably made things worse as, rather than the cats and dogs being the problem, it was the fleas that lived on rats - and by killing off the natural predators of the rats the plague had been able to spread more rapidly.

As the winter weather moved in the numbers of deaths began to reduce and winter brought an end to the Great Plague of London. Charles II eventually considered it safe to return to London in February of 1666. Over 100,000 people are estimated to have died from the plague, although in the later weeks record keeping was far from accurate due to the numbers dying.

1665 saw the last major outbreak of the bubonic plague in Great Britain with the last recorded death from the plague in 1679. It was removed from the Bills of Mortality as a specific category after 1703.


Born in Settle, North Yorkshire, Brindy Wilcox's love of books started at an early age and she grew up loving the adventures of The Famous Five and The Secret Seven by Enid Blyton. Another fond childhood memory is of Rusty, her very lovable Red Setter dog; she would spend hours sitting with him telling him stories. So, it seems inevitable that, when she decided to write her first novel, it would be about adventurous dogs. She first had an ambition to write a book about 25 years ago but a career in Accountancy kept her busy so that she only found time to start writing a couple of years ago. She chose the self-publish route and one of her proudest moments was when she finally held her completed YA novel, Through Time To London in September 2016.
Amazon Author Page

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

The Georgian Christmas Table

by Catherine Curzon

“Wickednesse in Christmas: More mischief is that time committed then in all the here besides. What masking and mummyng, whereby robberie, whoredome, and sometyme murder and whatnot is committed? What dicying and cardyng, what eatyng and drinkyng, what banquetyng and feastyng is then used more than in all the yere besides to the great dishonour of God, and impoverishyng of the realme.”

Oliver Cromwell by Samuel Cooper
Or so said the puritans in the late 16th century. With a review like that, it’s little wonder that Christmas was not part of the Protectorate’s plan. After all, where would one be if one were to allow unbridled mumming and masking, let alone the dreaded what not?

I bet they didn’t like pulling crackers either!

When Oliver Cromwell banned Christmas in 1644, it’s probably safe to say that people weren’t happy. Yet the law was the law and there were to be no carols nor gifts, and certainly no festive gatherings, on pain of harsh penalties. Happily, these dour days weren’t to last, for we British love a party, and Cromwell’s ban was swept away when Charles II returned to the throne. By the time we reach my own era of interst, the glorious and glittering Georgian period, Christmas was in full-swing once more.

The Georgian Christmas was a long and rather drawn wonderfully drawn-out affair. It began on 6th December, St Nicholas Day, and continued for a whole month until Twelfth Night, which fell on 6th January. On the first day of the season small gifts were exchanged between friends and the month was spent in a variety of festive meet-ups and, among the rich, balls and parties such as those hosted by the Bennets in Pride and Prejudice or the ball at which Sense and Sensibility’s Willoughby dances until dawn breaks. For the poor of course things were rather different, but as far as people were able to mark and celebrate the festive period, they did.

On Christmas Day, the whole country enjoyed a national holiday just as it does today but of course, they didn’t spend it in front of the Christmas telly or bickering over the new board game. Instead, Christmas morning was spent attending church services and for those with money the afternoon was spent  in the dining room, but what did our Georgian ancestors eat?

George I by Sir Godfrey Kneller
Not Terry’s Chocolate Orange, that’s for sure.

The answer, which may or may not come as a surprise, is goose and for some, turkey. Just as it is today, food was an enormously important part of a Georgian Christmas and for those who could really afford to push the boat out, venison was often the dish of the day. It was a symbol of wealth and nobody liked to show off their wealth more than the Georgians. A plum pudding was a popular dish and legend has it that George I requested one for his first Christmas feast in England in 1714, whilst the Christmas Pye, also known as theYorkshire Pie, was hugely popular and perhaps more affordable for some.

Yet not everyone followed the path to game and goose and James Woodforde, however, a clergyman and Oxford scholar, wrote a record of a Christmas table amongst his fellow academics that groaned under the weight of, “two fine Codds boiled with fryed Souls around them and oyster sauce, a fine sirloin of Beef roasted, some peas soup and an orange Pudding for the first course, for the second we had a lease of Wild Ducks roasted, a fork of Lamb and salad and mince pies.”

James Woodforde by Samuel Woodforde
Woodforde was a man of traditional country tastes so his wasn’t an entirely typical dinner. However, it does offer us a valuable insight into what was served at the scholarly table and, just as now, not everyone toed the same line. It was a time to eat well, whatever you chose, and to indulge yourself as much as the budget might allow. For some that was humble indeed, for others it was eye-watering.

The size of one’s festive meal in the 18th century was a measure of a family’s wealth and with wealth came power and prestige. With so much time in the morning spent in church, grander feasts often included an array of cold side dishes to cut down on cooking time, whilst a vast range of meats would be served both hot and cold, alongside a huge selection of vegetables and accompaniments with which the rich piled their plates high. At the end of the meal, desert was often a plum cake alongside the plum pudding or, of course, the traditional rich fruit cake. 

For the poor, things were considerably less grand, but the rich were expected to remember those less fortunate and make gifts of food and other refreshments. Whether they did is another matter, but one can but hope!

Boyce, Charlotte & Fitzpatrick, Joan. A History of Food in Literature. Taylor & Francis, 2017.
Connelly, Mark. Christmas: A History. IB Tauris, 2012.
Crump, William. The Christmas Encyclopaedia. McFarland, 2013.
Davis, Karen. More Than a Meal. Lantern Books, 2001.
Forbes, Bruce David. Christmas: A Candid History. University of California Press, 2008.
Green, Nile. The Love of Strangers. Princeton University Press, 2015.
Macdonald, Fiona. Christmas, A Very Peculiar History. Andrews UK Limited, 2012
Midgley, Graham. University Life in Eighteenth-Century OxfordYale University Press, 1996.
Perry, Joe. Christmas in Germany: A Cultural History. University of North Carolina Press, 2010.
Restad, Penne L. Christmas in America: A History. Oxford University Press, 1996.
Spacks, Patricia Meyer. Privacy: Concealing the Eighteenth-Century Self. University of Chicago Press, 2003.
Stubbes, Phillip. The Anatomie of Abuses. W Pickering, 1836.
Woodforde, James. The Diary of a Country Parson, 1758-1802 Canterbury Press, 2011.

All images from Wikipedia.
Catherine Curzon is a royal historian. She is the author of Life in the Georgian CourtKings of Georgian Britain, and Queens of Georgian Britain

She has written extensively for publications including, the official website of BBC History Magazine, Explore History, All About History, History of Royals and Jane Austen’s Regency World. Catherine has spoken at venues and events including the Stamford Georgian Festival, the Jane Austen Festival, Lichfield Guildhall, the National Maritime Museum at Greenwich and Dr Johnson’s House. In addition, she has appeared with An Evening with Jane Austen at Kenwood House, Godmersham Park, the Royal Pavilion, Brighton, the Jane Austen Festival, Bath, and the Stamford Georgian Festival.

Her novels, The Crown SpireThe Star of Versailles, and The Mistress of Blackstairs, are available now.

Catherine holds a Master’s degree in Film and lives in Yorkshire atop a ludicrously steep hill.

Connect with Catherine through her website (, Facebook, Twitter (@MadameGilflurt)Google PlusPinterest, and Instagram

Monday, December 11, 2017

Giveaway - Our Man on Earth by Blaise

To celebrate the release of the new book, Our Man on Earth, and launch of the new series The Swithen, which honors the oldest tales of King Arthur and his court in retellings that make the stories come to life for modern readers, Blaise is giving away an e-book to anyone who leaves a comment and contact details in the comment below.

This offer will close at midnight, Sunday 17 December Pacific Standard Time.

Merlin: Sired by a demon and born of a human woman… This is no made-up tale, but the ORIGINAL story of Merlin from the year 1215 AD.

The devil wants a man on earth to work his evil plans. He decides to bring this about by impregnating a human woman. That woman, Meylinde, finds her life turned into a nightmare as a demon picks off her family one by one, until only she is left. Soon the demon’s work is done—in a time when an illegitimate child incurs the punishment of death—and she is desperate to save her own life while thwarting the devil’s plans for her child: a child that will become Merlin, the greatest wizard of all time.

Based on the oldest known accounts of Merlin, the Lancelot-Grail and Prose Merlin romances from around 1215 and 1450, this is Merlin’s actual origin story, not some made-up tale. A work of horror and fantasy, filled with wonder and wit, this book brings the bizarre and weird world of the 15th century, where magic was as real as the air we breathe, to life for the present day.

This is the first book in the series The Swithen, which retells the original tales of Merlin, King Arthur, Guinevere and the of Knights of the Table Round in exciting versions interpreted for modern readers.

To receive a copy, leave a comment below - don't forget to leave your contact details (!) and state whether you'd rather receive PDF or MOBI (Kindle) file.

Living on Credit is Not a New Thing

by Maria Grace

It’s easy to believe that living on credit is a modern thing. The news abounds with tales of woe regarding consumer debt, mortgages, student loans, and other lines of credit. How would Jane Austen have reacted to such news? Probably with great aplomb and a declaration that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

During the Regency era “almost all members of the middle and upper classes had accounts with different suppliers, who extended credit to their patrons. … Only if the amount was small or they were traveling did they pay cash. In fact, only the poor did not live on credit in one guise or another.” (Forsling, 2017) In fact, more people depended on credit than ever before resulting in perpetual overcrowding in the debtor's prisons.

Although debt, both personal and national, were rife in Regency society, attitudes toward debt were largely divided across class lines. “Aristocratic claims for leadership had long been based on lavish displays and consumption while the middle class stressed domestic moderation. In particular, aristocratic disdain for sordid money matters, their casual attitude to debt and addiction to gambling …, were anathema to the middling ranks whose very existence depended on the establishment of creditworthiness and avoidance of financial embarrassment.” (Davidoff, 2002).

Many small and otherwise flourishing businesses failed due to bad debts, especially among the upper classes. Some went so far as to begin refusing credit and to only sell for ‘ready money’. The notion that debts of honor had to be paid and paid quickly while debts to merchants could be put off indefinitely only exacerbated the situation.

Robbing Peter to Pay Paul

Gaming debts were regarded as sacrosanct which might not have been so significant an issue had there not been so many of them. The Regency was a time when Englishmen, especially the wealthy and highborn, were ready to bet on almost anything. Though gaming for high stakes was illegal by Austen’s day, authorities mostly seemed to turn a blind eye to it, (Fullerton, 2004) perhaps because it was considered largely an upper class vice.

Different social classes offered different reasons for the immorality of gaming. The upper classes feared losing their money to the lower class, giving them income without having earned it and opposing the work ethic. The rising middle class also saw gaming as opposing the values of stability, property, domesticity, family life and religion. (Rendell, 2002) Regardless of the reason, there was widespread agreement that gaming was a problem, thus legislation was passed against it.

Unfortunately anti-gaming laws, much like prohibition in the US, only forced gambling from public venues into private clubs where individuals bet on any and nearly everything. Organized sports including cricket, horse racing, prize fighting and cock fighting attracted spectators willing to bet on the outcome. Huge fortunes, even family estates could be won and lost at games of chance. Even the outcome of the Napoleonic Wars were subject to betting.

Moneylenders and bankers made themselves available at private clubs to assist gentlemen in settling their debts of honor which were not otherwise enforceable by law. The cost of this service though (beyond the interest on the debt of course), was creating a legally enforceable debt from which one had not been so previously.

Debtors' Prison

English bankruptcy laws were particularly harsh, demanding personal repayment of all debt, including business debt, and often incarceration. Ironically, there was no disgrace about being sent to gaol during the era, provided it was for an acceptable crime like debt or libel. (Murry, 1999) The Royal Courts administered three prisons primarily for debtors: the Fleet, the King's Bench and the Marshalsea, though debtors might be imprisoned at other facilities as well. (Low, 2005) At any given time during the era, upward of a 10,000 men were imprisoned for debts as small as four pence. (Savage, 2017)

Debtors were probably the largest proportion of the era’s prison population and had privileges not granted to ordinary criminals, including the right to have their family stay with them and to have other visitors. They could also often arrange to be supplied with beer or spirits. (Low, 2005) “During the quarterly terms, when the court sits, (Fleet) prisoners on paying five shillings a-day, and on giving security, are allowed to go out when they please, and there is a certain space round the prison, called the rules, in which prisoners may live, on furnishing two good securities to the warden for their debt, and on paying about three per cent on the amount of their debts to the warden.” (Feltham, 1803)

The process of obtaining an arrest warrant for debt was expensive. Often several tradesmen would have to band together to see a writ for debt issued. (Kelly, 2006)

Once the writ was obtained, the debtor (once caught, of course, as it was not uncommon for debtors to flee in the face of a writ, even so far as to leave the country) would first be confined to a spunging or lock-up house. A spunging-house was a private house maintained for the local confinement of debtors to give them time to settle their debts before the next step, debtors' prison. “…For twelve or fourteen shillings a-day, a debtor may remain [at the spunging house], either till he has found means of paying his debt, or finds it necessary to go to a public prison, when the writ against him becomes returnable. We have heard that great abuses prevail in these spunging-houses, and that many of the impositions practised in them deserve to be rectified. … It would be wrong to quit the sad subject of prisons, without observing that such is the bad arrangement of the laws between debtor and creditor, that ruin to both is greatly accelerated by the expensiveness of every step in the proceedings, insomuch that not one debtor in ten ever pays his debt after he enters a prison. (Feltham, 1803)

Why Debtors' Prison?

Given that once a debtor was in prison, they lacked the ability to earn money making the payment of his debt even less likely, this approach to debt seems ridiculous. So why was it done?

First, it was assumed that the debtor’s family and friends would be available to help pay off their debts. So imprisoning the debtor might help motivate them to action. Second, it was perceived as a deterrent to getting into debt in the first place. (Clearly, given the numbers in debtors’ prison it was a total failure on that count.) (Savage, 2017)

The third reason is perhaps the most difficult for the modern reader to understand. To the people of the time, the issue was bigger than simply insuring the debtor paid off their debts. “The ‘moral’ imperative to make the debtor aware of their responsibility for not living beyond their means was judged more important. … To understand the mind-set of the time, it’s important to remember two things: taking on more debt than you could pay was seen as a form of theft; and, … (t)heft broke the Biblical commandment, “Thou shalt not steal”. The causes of becoming too indebted to pay also pointed to the presence of other sins: idleness, covetousness, greed, deceitfulness. … Sin demanded punishment and repentance not support,” thus jailing the debtor fulfilled the moral imperative. (Savage, 2017)

Myth of the smock wedding

Just because there was a moral imperative to punish debtors didn’t mean that those who owed money accepted their fate easily or didn’t attempt creative means by which to discharge their debts. Running to avoid one’s creditors was common. Beau Brummell fled to France to avoid debtors’ prison. In some cases a debtor could be pressed into naval service in exchange for the Navy to cover their debts.

Marriage, particularly for the upper class, was also a handy means of bringing in quick cash to alleviate a family’s money woes. The (disastrous) marriage of the Prince of Wales to his cousin, Princess Caroline of Brunswick in 1795 came about so that Parliament would pay off his debts.

Not all men were happy to marry a woman with debts, especially a widow still responsible for her late husband’s debts. Consequently, the practice of a ‘smock wedding’ came into being. At such a wedding, the bride would be married naked, bringing nothing into the marriage. In practice, she usually was barefoot and garbed in a chemise or sheet. The salient point was that she was technically bringing nothing into the marriage, thus her husband-to-be was thought not liable for any debts she might have. (Adkins, 2013) It is too bad that was not around in the era, because it could have told them that the ‘smock wedding’ way out of debt was an urban myth and would not stop the new bride’s creditors from knocking at their door.


Adkins, Roy, and Lesley Adkins. Jane Austen's England. Viking, 2013. 
Craig, Sheryl. Jane Austen and the State of the Nation. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015.
Davidoff, Leonore, and Catherine Hall. Family Fortunes: Men and Women of the English Middle Class, 1780-1850. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987.
Feltham, John. The picture of London, for 1803; being a correct guide to all the curiosities, amusements, exhibitions, public establishments, and remarkable objects in and near London; with a collection of appropriate tables. For the use of strangers, foreigners, and all persons who are intimately acquainted with the British metropolis. London: R. Phillips, 1803.
Forsling, Yvonne . “Money Makes the World Go Round.” Hibiscus-Sinensis. Accessed July 22, 2017.
Fullerton, Susannah. Jane Austen and Crime. Sydney: Jane Austen Society of Australia, 2004.
Kelly, Ian. Beau Brummell: The Ultimate Man of Style. New York: Free Press, 2006.
Laudermilk, Sharon H., and Teresa L. Hamlin. The Regency Companion. New York: Garland, 1989.
Low, Donald A. The Regency underworld. Stroud: Sutton, 2005.
Murray, Venetia. An Elegant Madness: High Society in Regency England. New York: Viking, 1999.
Rendell, Jane. The Pursuit of Pleasure Gender, Space & Architecture in Regency London. London: Athlone Press, 2002.
Savage, William . “The Georgian Way with Debt.” Pen and Pension. July 19, 2017. Accessed July 25, 2017. .


Though Maria Grace has been writing fiction since she was ten years old, those early efforts happily reside in a file drawer and are unlikely to see the light of day again, for which many are grateful.

After penning five file-drawer novels in high school, she took a break from writing to pursue college and earn her doctorate. After 16 years of university teaching, she returned to her first love, fiction writing.

Click here to find her books on Amazon. For more on her writing and other Random Bits of Fascination, visit her website. You can also like her on Facebook, or follow on Twitter.

Friday, December 8, 2017

Common Myths of the Wars of the Roses - Myth #3: Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, the ‘Kingmaker’? Part 3…

This is the third part of my exploration into the notion that Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, deserves the epithet of “kingmaker”. When I sat down to write Part 3, I quickly realised that, to avoid oversimplifying the story, I would need to deal with King Edward IV’s mid-reign crisis of 1468-71 in two separate posts. So basically this is now Part 3 of 4!
There are two stages to the crisis and the first involves Warwick’s attempt to hitch his wagon, or more accurately his elder daughter, to the runaway horse called George, Duke of Clarence - the king's younger brother.

Much has been made by historians of Warwick’s growing frustration during the 1460s, especially over the king’s secret marriage to Elizabeth Woodville in 1464. We are told that Warwick was ‘disappointed’ that Edward did not give him the influence over policy that he believed he deserved. Yes, you’re right: he had an ego to die for – and sooner or later he would…

In his ‘disappointment’ Warwick began to consider an alternative to Edward. After all, if one powerful duke could seize the throne, why not another? His attentions were therefore focused on Edward’s younger brother, George, who seemed an obvious choice because his claim to the throne was as good as Edward’s – especially if Edward was without Warwick’s support. An obvious choice, except George was not the man Edward was and no-one would seek to supplant the king with his younger brother unless he was desperate.

Why then was Warwick beginning to feel desperate by 1468?

Well folks, it’s mainly about sons and daughters – Warwick had no sons and two daughters.

A favourable marriage was a major tool in noble advancement. Warwick himself made a spectacular one which added enormously to his power and wealth. At least one of his daughters would have to secure a great marriage and the best – perhaps the only - option amongst the nobility would have been Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, since he had royal lineage and large landholdings. Buckingham, however, was swiftly married off to one of the new queen’s Woodville relatives and was thus unavailable. So, if the noble line of Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, was not to be subsumed into a lesser noble house, his daughters must marry up – i.e. into royalty. 

George, Duke of Clarence [from Wikimedia]

Enter George, Duke of Clarence: available, eligible and royal. This would be the perfect match to secure the future of the Neville family.
King Edward, however, dismissed out of hand the idea of a Neville marriage to either of his brothers. Perhaps Warwick did have a genuine cause for complaint since, in his eyes, the king had denied him Buckingham and was now ruling out the two royal dukes as well. But from Edward’s point of view: by 1468 he, like Warwick, also had two daughters and no sons. How dangerous would it be if the heir presumptive, his brother George, married into the most powerful noble family in England while Edward still had no male heir of his own?  A further hurdle was that a papal dispensation would be required since George and Warwick’s daughters were cousins. 

In spite of the king’s opposition, Warwick persisted with the project through 1467 and at some point began secret negotiations with Rome for the necessary papal dispensation. 

The summer of 1467 marks the first really low point in the relationship between the king and Warwick. By the end of that summer, Warwick’s favoured foreign policy of an alliance with France was demolished when Edward opted for a counter alliance with the enemy of France: Burgundy. Here is not the place to discuss the relative merits of the two policies but it was this humiliation of Warwick that set the earl on a collision course with the king. 

Warwick went home to his estates to lick his wounds. That does not mean that he had already decided upon rebellion, but it does mean that he was considering his options. Apart from the French fiasco, he was also resentful of the rise of other men at court, notably the Queen’s father, Earl Rivers, and brother, Lord Scales, but especially William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke. Herbert was a rising star in the Yorkist firmament and his growing power in Wales set him against Warwick who had longstanding interests there. Herbert also appeared to be spreading rumours – also going around the French court at the time – that the disaffected Warwick was now in league with the deposed Lancastrian queen, Margaret of Anjou. 

Privately, King Edward must have dismissed this notion as laughable but he could not completely ignore it. When he asked Warwick to come to answer the rumours, the earl was reluctant. In the end, early in 1468, he did so but only in the most grudging and unbending manner. Despite Warwick's unhelpful attitude, the king continued to reward him with lands and income – as if he was short of such things!

It has been noted before that Edward preferred conciliation to confrontation with his leading subjects – sometimes at very great risk to himself. Here again we see the king trying hard to win over Warwick rather than drive him away, but it became increasingly obvious during 1468 that Warwick would not accept being merely one of a number of royal advisers. The earl did not really buy into the concept of ‘first among equals.’

Whilst his leading magnate was sulking, Edward had more pressing problems: there had been a notable increase in lawlessness during 1466, 1467 and into 1468. One of the most enduring planks of any Yorkist manifesto was to reduce corruption and restore law and order, but it appeared that Edward had failed to do so. Part of the renewed unrest was down to an increase in the activities of Lancastrian loyalists. It seemed that every time Edward thought he had restored control, new pockets of rebellion popped up. Whilst none of these was large-scale, taken together they were certainly worrying.

During 1468 Warwick returned to London and the documentary evidence tells us that he and his brothers, George – lately removed as Chancellor – and John, Lord Montagu, were all prominently involved in government. So, to judge from appearances, the Nevilles were back on board the good ship Edward. But all was not quite as it seemed…

By 1469, Warwick was actively pursuing two converging policies against Edward. The first was the  alliance with Clarence through marriage to his daughter, Isabel, for which Warwick still awaited a papal dispensation.

Why did Clarence go along with this? Basically because, whilst he was handsome and charming like his brother, he lacked several of Edward’s other, better, qualities. Despite the immense rewards showered upon him since the victory of 1461, Clarence was dissatisfied. He was ambitious and viewed a marriage to the elder Neville heiress as an excellent way of increasing his already large land holdings and power.

Warwick’s second policy was to exploit and focus the growing disaffection of the commons against Edward’s government. In the spring of 1469 he used his men in the north to encourage rebellion. Though it is certain that the commons had legitimate grievances, it is unlikely they would have risen in such numbers without the promise of support from some local members of the gentry committed to the earl. Warwick also promoted his own image through propaganda and his generosity to all and sundry. Then – as now – folk are easily swayed by rich men who promise the poor better times…

Between April and July 1469 there were several risings in the north. It’s almost unbelievable how little we know about these revolts, but we do know one thing: Warwick was behind the largest one and helped to direct its manifesto.

[See an earlier post on my blog for the complexities of these risings:]

King Edward reacted very slowly to the threat of rebellion in the north, making a laboured progress to Nottingham to raise troops to counter the rebels. While he was doing that, Warwick was elsewhere. At the end of June the earl announced the Clarence-Neville marriage in a letter to his supporters in Coventry and almost at once, in early July, he departed with his brother Archbishop George Neville, along with Clarence and Isabel, to Calais where the marriage took place. After that, Warwick made his intentions crystal clear, directly associating himself with the northern rebels and issuing a statement which notably compared the ills of the present regime with the failures of Edward II, Richard II and Henry VI – all of whom had of course been deposed.

Warwick then returned to England as the northern rebels swept into the midlands opposed only by the armies of William Herbert and another upstart - from Warwick’s perspective – Humphrey Stafford, Earl of Devon.

Middleham Castle, Yorkshire
At this critical moment in his reign, Edward was slow to grasp what was happening: perhaps the betrayal by Warwick, but also by his own brother, still seemed unthinkable. His inactivity did not help his allies, Herbert and Stafford; on the other hand these two bullish men did not help each other much either. They managed to snatch oblivion from the jaws of victory at the battle of Edgecote in July 1469. 
Warwick arrived in time to condemn the royal commanders and anyone else he cared to – notably a few of the Woodvilles. He then took possession of the king, moving him first to Warwick and then into the Neville heartland at Middleham. Next he summoned parliament - perhaps to garner support for his actions and perhaps also to legitimise the elevation of Clarence over his older brother. By the middle of August 1469, Warwick appeared to be in command of both the king and the kingdom.

Sadly for Warwick, it was all an illusion. The conundrum for us is that we don’t really know what Warwick intended. Surely he intended to be the ‘kingmaker’ here. Clarence must have been promised the throne; otherwise what was the point of drawing any comparison with previously deposed kings?

It is possible, of course, that the more Warwick got to know Clarence the less convinced he was that the king’s flawed brother was the answer to his problems. Hence the earl ended up trying to rule through Edward as a ‘puppet king’ and it just did not work.

Here’s why. Though Warwick had some popular support in the north, hardly any of the ruling classes supported his coup. He was almost completely isolated amongst the nobility and the king’s council. Plans for a parliament were quickly shelved amid governmental chaos and yet another Lancastrian rising. It did not help Warwick that there was even more disorder after he took over than before: local feuds abounded and the earl could offer no answer without the authority of the king. Ironically therefore, he was forced to release the king in order to suppress the Lancastrian rising and restore confidence in the government.

By October, King Edward was back in London in the bosom of his allies. Publicly, he declared his goodwill towards both Warwick and Clarence, but no-one was fooled. Though the king did not punish Warwick, he was unlikely to forget the earl’s savage execution of his rivals - especially since one of them was the queen’s father! He began to limit Neville power and influence whilst allowing them to retain some pride. Men such as Edward’s youngest brother, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, Thomas, Lord Stanley, and Henry Percy, newly restored to his earldom of Northumberland, were given more influence at Neville expense. Edward hoped for reconciliation, but did not expect it. His brother, George, might be forgiven but not the Earl of Warwick.

Over the winter of 1469-70, the earl chewed over his failure. True, he had achieved the marriage he intended and had removed some rivals, but his position in the state was now perilous. Yet, the king still had no son, so perhaps Warwick’s only way out was to think the unthinkable… as many desperate men do…

In the final part I shall look at Warwick's final throw of the dice: the readeption of Henry VI.

If you have yet to read the earlier posts in this series, you can find them here:

Kingmaker? Part 1
Kingmaker? Part 2

Derek Birks was born in Hampshire in England but spent his teenage years in Auckland, New Zealand, where he still has strong family ties.

For many years he taught history in a secondary school but took early retirement to concentrate on writing. Apart from his writing, he spends his time gardening, travelling, walking and taking part in archaeological digs at a Roman villa. Derek is interested in a wide range of historical themes but his particular favourite is the late medieval period. He writes action-packed fiction which is rooted in accurate history.

His debut historical novel was Feud, which is set in the period of the Wars of the Roses. Feud is the first of a now complete four-book series, entitled Rebels & Brothers, which follows the fortunes of the fictional Elder family from 1459 to 1471.
A new series, The Craft of Kings, picks up the story of the Elders in 1481 in its first book, Scars from the Past. In February 2018, the violent events of 1483 are played out in the sequel, The Blood of Princes.

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