Whether you believe the survival theory or not, Edward II's Fieschi-letter adventures make for a good yarn. An ex-king, traveling incognito and visiting his relatives, mixing with the commoners but meeting with the pope, and dropping by some tourist attractions pilgrimage sites, is fun to think about.
Other than the French king, how did the likes of Alfonso XI of Castile, Afonso IV of Portugal, Louis IV/Frederick the Fair of the HRE, Louis I of Flanders, the Pope in Avignon etc. see Edward's downfall? Did they support Mortimer's new regime? I only know about England making peace with Scotland in 1328 that Edward III would challenge later, but what about other countries? I apologise if this is an ignorant question or has been asked before.
Pretty much as the title says. It seems to be accessible at the Bodleian Library but... that's rather a trek for me. I know Alison Weir stated that Doherty sent her a copy (make of that what you will) but has anyone else done this? It seems so bizarre that such a highly regarded secondary source for this period is so difficult to access. I did loan Isabella and the Strange Death of Edward II but I thought it was abysmal. I didn't even bother.
A popular story, often repeated and expanded upon by historical fiction writers, says that Isabella of France wrote her father in 1308 and complained that she was the most "wretched of wives" and her husband was a "stranger" to her bed.
The letter almost certainly is a fiction, a bit of fantasy by an imaginative chronicler.
The letter is not mentioned in contemporary sources and first surfaces in a chronicle called Historia Anglicana by Thomas Walsingham which was written sometime after 1477. This was fifty years after Edward II and Isabella's marriage went south and Edward II was deposed.
As Kathryn Warner writes, Walsingham was writing a generation or two later and had no access to the private letters of Philip IV. He very likely made up the story based on popular perceptions of the time or based it on the rumors and speculation of others. This was around the time the false story about the poker had taken root, and its easy to how other lurid fantasies could flourish.
Concurrently, there were also pushes to canonize Edward II, a cause his grandson Richard II would take up without success. However, dueling perceptions of Edward II appear to be a proxy for political and culture wars at the time. One faction insisted that Edward II was a deviant, failed king who died in the most humiliating and deserved fashion while the other insisted he was a holy martyr, too good to survive on the throne. Neither of these fits the facts, but then as now, propagandists didn't care.
So, it is exceedingly unlikely a twelve-year-old Queen Isabella wrote her father complaining that her adult husband was not acting as a lover. She and Edward II would have been well-aware that sixteen was considered the earliest age for safe childbirth. Eventually, she and Edward would have four healthy children, and evidence indicates they had an at times passionate sex life.
O most great King Edward, you are our foremost in war, you are our leader and our prize champion in the race: like Moses, great in faith, while you stretch out your hands to the stars, and to the people of Israel, Amalek is defeated, and Joshua overthrows Jericho, and the town of Berwick-upon-Tweed is acquired by Edward in one hour of the day. And that not only: for, like the army of Pharaoh and his whole host submerged in the sea, the perfidious multitude of the faithless is driven from England and the dominion of the King in one day.
In days of old Alexander, the King of Macedon, overthrew the kings of Persia and Media and subdued the eastern provinces: now in our time the great King Edward undertook a ten-year war against the illustrious King of France, Philip; we recovered Gascony, which had been taken by deceit, by force and arms we acquired Wales from the enemy's hand, we invaded Scotland, having overthrown its tyrant with the edge of the sword.
Indeed, he rescued the kingdom of England from the mouth of the lion, when he freed Daniel, our King Henry, from the hand of the beast, Simon of Montfort, in the battle at Evesham. And so we exalted the great Edward to the royal throne both by virtue of war and by hereditary succession.
Once Brutus, a man mighty in strength, in destroying the monstrous giants, boasted that he had acquired an empty and abundant isle; but Edward was more than Brutus, as will be clear.
King Arthur made the Orcadian, Norwegian, Aquitainian, Scottish and Irish islands, half-filled with peoples, under tribute, and yet he could not completely destroy the Saxon tribe which had treacherously entered Britain, and wounded by Mordred, he, preserver of the peace of the Britons, escaped. Our King Edward succumbed to none.
Did not Edgar, the happy King of the English, once sitting in a ship, while he had been rowed by the kings of Scots, Cumbrians, and five other petty-kings across the Dee, proclaim that his successors would boast that the kings of England, since they enjoyed such a prerogative of honour, would have the power of so many kings subject to them? And behold, more than Edgar our Edward, for he trampled on the aforesaid governments of the islands by his own virtue, reducing several of them into the dominion of his predecessors, he distinguished his successors by the title of monarchy as kings of England much more magnificent than all the aforesaid.
But the famous King Richard of England, once a warrior of valour, who like a roaring lion conquered many overseas lands, is worthy of the of many praises. However, he suffered the mark of disgrace in the presumption of audacity, he was captured and suffered at the hands of the Austrians, living out not the full length of his days, like to the great Alexander. For he, reigning twelve years, drank poison and died; this one, mortally wounded with a bolt, died in the tenth year of his reign. Not so our king Edward.
Not so, but greater than the greatest kings was King Edward; who, when in the Holy Land pursuing the cause of the cross, was stabbed five times by a certain assassin, yet did not die; shot by many arrows, as at Stirling, he returned unharmed and without injury.
Here King Edward increased above all kings in military glory: by an edict issued in France, in Flanders, in Aquitaine, in England, in Scotland, in Ireland and in Wales, that as many as wished to serve with arms should come to the King and most abundantly present all the military ornaments from their wardrobe. And who has heard of such things? Therefore, the English world remembers how many great things it has achieved under his leadership, and the more abundantly sighs and laments that it has lost so much in his absence.
O my best fellow soldiers, look what has happened to us, pay attention and see our disgrace. Will our swords be beaten into plowshares, and our weapons into sickles? Will our spears be reduced to pruning hooks? for the flower of chivalry has withered, under which it was glory to march and advance, and finally to fight and triumph.
Here’s a semi-obscure one, if anyone feels like helping me solve the mystery. In 1330, shortly after the Earl of Kent was executed, the disinherited Richard FitzAlan (son of the executed Earl Edmund FitzAlan of Arundel) apparently tried to start a revolt in Shropshire, presumably with the intention of removing Roger Mortimer from power and regaining his (Richard’s) rightful inheritance. I don’t see this event mentioned very often (even official biographies of Richard FitzAlan omit it, for some reason), but I’m relatively sure it did happen. Unfortunately, whenever it is mentioned, it’s covered very briefly and inconclusively. Worse, the few sources that mention it also seem to disagree on how it ended. So.. my question is, when Richard FitzAlan’s plans were discovered (probably by Roger Mortimer’s agents), was he arrested? Or did he flee abroad? Does anyone know?
This story is a favorite of historical fiction writers but it has little basis in reality. So, I spun one of my older posts here into a longer blog post.
Sometimes I do think people have forgotten that many of the ugly stories about Edward II and Piers were invented by people looking to justify their gruesome deaths.
On a cold January morning in 1329 Roger Mortimer, Isabella and Edward III are making preparations to face the forces of Henry, the Earl of Lancaster's forces head on. In late 1328 Lancaster, supported by Edmund, the Earl of Kent and his brother Thomas, the Earl of Norfolk had demanded the removal of Roger Mortimer from court. The hostilities escalated and Mortimer declared war on Lancaster, resulting in what is known as Henry of Lancaster's Revolt of 1328-29.
The forces were not far from each other near Bedford.
Lancaster held a council with his fellow lords. He declared that they had no choice: a fight against the king was now necessary. This was not what had initially been agreed, the fight was supposed to be against Roger Mortimer with his destruction being the only goal. This change in circumstances made Kent and Norfolk recoil, and they denounced Lancaster then and there, refusing to take up arms against their king. They left, abandoning the earl to the mercy of Mortimer.
Roger Mortimer heard about the desertion as he was in Northampton. He ordered his troops for an immediate night attack. Even Isabella took part, dressed in armour and mounted on a war horse. Through the night he led them, for twenty-four miles, arriving within sight of Lancaster's camp near Bedford at daybreak. Henry made no attempt to defend himself. He came out of his pavilion and walked slowly forward through the cold January morning, and knelt down, alone, in the mud. He waited there until Roger, Isabella and Edward rode up. They watched him from their horses as he begged for forgiveness.
Source:
Ian Mortimer - 'The Greatest Traitor'
Hugh Despenser the Younger dominated Edward II's late reign, and it surely appears he personally dominated Edward II (no comment from the peanut gallery, I'm talking politically). But even though Hugh the Younger was married to Edward II's favorite niece and was his chamberlain, Hugh never got a fancy title. Meanwhile, Piers Gaveston's earldom was so important to Edward II, he restored it and likely sealed his friend's doom.
Do you think Hugh was smart enough to say he didn't want an earldom? Or do you think Edward II had learned his lesson?
Someone else had a thread about Edward II and Isabella head casting, but I thought it would be fun to do some of our other players So, my head casting:
Jason Patric - Piers Gaveston
Alison Hannigan - Margaret Gaveston
Bryce Dallas Howard - Eleanor de Clare
Brad Pitt - Hugh Despenser the Younger
There are academics who have dedicated their life to studying, documenting and interpreting heraldry. Mad respect.
I freely admit I'm more of a "Oh, look he had birdies on his shield!" or a "That one is aesthetically really good-looking." or a "Wow, that's an unfortunate ugly stripe across there." type of person. In fact, my knowledge is so limited, I don't even qualify as a dilettante.
But here's the first six shields from the bannerets roll of 1312, including our friends and frenemies:
Edward II
Gilbert de Clare
Piers Gaveston
Henry de Lacey
Thomas of Lancaster
John de Warenne
There are way weirder and prettier ones down the line. More on that later! But feel free to post your favorites.
Why did I have to learn from Screen Junkies that Alan Tudyk's character Wat, is supposed to be THE Wat Tyler?
Inspired by this post earlier today, what would you put on your arms? Would you go with elegant stripes? Polkadots? Or, if your like me, you'd do an animal.
The rubble in the above image is not the original structure.
It was built in the middle of the 1200s as a prestigious Franciscan Priory, expanded in the early 1300s at the expense of Marguerite of France, Gilbert de Clare and others.
After the original institution was dissolved and mostly destroyed by Henry VIII, the old church building was used for storage before being destroyed in the great fire of London in 1666.
The rubble above was the church that was built post-fire in 1667, then destroyed in the blitz.
Christchurch was merged with the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, and the historic graves are now somewhere beneath the earth, lost to history.
Read more here.
Edited to clarify some of the timeline.
Or do you think Edward III essentially foisted them on her as part of some sort of penitential image-rehabilitation scheme? Neither the mantle nor the heart were standard gestures of marital fidelity in traditional 14th centuries, so it wasn't really fitting any established social script. Marguerite of France had been buried in the same church (the Franciscan House in London) in a simple Poor Clares' Habit. That would have been the conventional choice for Isabella. Did she, or Edward III, drive these decisions however? I'm interested in what people think.
Piers Gaveston's arms had six golden eagles on green.
Thoughts on this one?
Some context.
On 14 January 1330 the Archbishop of York, William Melton, wrote a remarkable letter to the mayor of London, Simon Swanland. This letter was written more than two years after the supposed funeral of Edward II in Gloucester.
Melton was a shrewd and intelligent man, as evidenced by the views held of him by his contemporaries. The Lanercost chronicler says 'although he was one of the king’s courtiers, he led a religious and honourable life,' and the Vita Edwardi Secundi says he was 'a courtier faithful in everything committed to him' who remained honourable despite the venality of the royal court where he lived so long.
The letter comes from the archives of the Newdegate family of Arbury Hall near Nuneaton. Its source is explained by the fact that around the year 1400 Sir John Newdegate established his family at the Swanland property in Harefield, Middlesex, having married Joanna, sister and coheiress of William de Swanland. The Newdegate archive has been known for many years, though its exploitation has been hampered by the loss of the manuscript catalogue apart from the index.
Forgotten for nearly six hundred years, extracts of the letter were first published in the journal Notes and Queries in 1911 by J. Harvey Bloom. Bloom didn’t pay much attention to what he had uncovered. Again the letter was left in peace for nearly a century, until Ian Mortimer rediscovered it and wrote about it in his 2006 book ‘Edward III, The Perfect King’.
There is a strong consensus among historians that the letter is genuine.
The High Street Gate, also called North Gate, is one of the first things you spot as you enter the Cathedral Close. It is now the main entry point to the Cathedral and a link from the Close to the High Street, but is one of four original gateways into the Close. As you look up as you walk through, you can see the Stuart royal coat of arms from the 17th century, and on your way out, a statue of Edward VII, added in 1902. But what was it used for? Well, part of it was once a small lock-up jail, probably for those convicted of misdeeds within the Liberty of the Close. Beside the gate was built the Porter's Lodge (No. 48), a great position for a well-connected servant in the Middle Ages. The Close Porter would have used the upstairs to work and keep an eye on the comings and goings in the Close. He would also raise and lower a portcullis, which no longer survives. In 1650, after the English Civil War, when Oliver Cromwell was in power and all Church property was claimed by the Government, the gatehouse was sold to Alexander Hatchett, a London haberdasher. If you look closely, you can see small inscriptions written on some of the panes of glass, which were once in the Cathedral windows until 1950. We assume these were all workers of some kind at the Cathedral.