Richard Woodville, Third Earl Rivers

Here's another Woodville mini-biography I've posted on my website:

By far the least known brother of Elizabeth Woodville is Richard, who eventually became the third Earl Rivers.

Richard seems to have been the second oldest Woodville brother. Cora Scofield in her biography of Edward IV refers to his having been pardoned in 1462 for his adherence to the Lancastrian cause; his father and older brother, Anthony, had been pardoned the previous July. His brother John was born around 1445 (he is said to have been 20 in 1465), and Anthony is said to have been born around 1440.

In 1465, Richard was made a Knight of the Bath, along with his brother John, as part of the festivities preceding Elizabeth’s coronation. In 1467, Edward IV attempted to have him appointed Prior of the Order of the Hospital of St. John of Jerusalem, though he was not a member of the order; the royal intervention failed, however, when the order elected its own chosen candidate.

Scofield writes that in 1469, Richard captured Thomas Danvers, who was accused of plotting with Edward IV’s Lancastrian enemies. Later in 1469, the Earl of Warwick, taking advantage of unrest in the country, issued a manifesto condemning “the deceitful, covetous rule and guiding of certain seditious persons,” including the elder Richard Woodville, Anthony Woodville, and “Sir John Woodville and his brothers.” The elder Richard and John were seized and executed, and Anthony appears to have either eluded capture or to have been captured by men who were reluctant to execute him. Richard must have been in danger himself during this time, but nothing indicates his whereabouts. In November 1470, however, during the readeption of Henry VI, he was issued a pardon by the Warwick-controlled government. It seems likely that he would have fought for Edward IV at Barnet and Tewkesbury in 1471, but his presence is not mentioned there; perhaps as a mere knight who did not play a notable part in the battle he was simply too lowly to mention.

Richard played little part in the remainder of Edward IV’s reign. J. R. Lander states in Crown and Nobility that he was “employed on various embassies and commissions” and notes that he found no evidence of grants made to him. He owned Wymington in Bedfordshire, where he served as a justice of the peace. Wymington was a manor that had been in his family. Was he considered ineffectual or incompetent, or was he simply a man who preferred the life of a country gentleman to a public role? Perhaps after having witnessed the strife of the previous decades, including the violent deaths of his father and his brother, he was content to live an existence of relative obscurity.

Following Edward IV’s death in April, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, having seized and imprisoned Richard Woodville’s brother Anthony at Northampton, confiscated Anthony’s land. According to Rosemary Horrox in Richard III: A Study in Service, the soon-to-be king seized Richard Woodville’s manor of Wymington as well on May 19, 1483, despite the fact that Richard Woodville stood accused of no crime. (Though Richard III has been praised for his enlightened legislation, he wasn’t much concerned with legal niceties when his own interests were involved.)

Given this high-handedness and the subsequent executions of Anthony and of Elizabeth Woodville’s son Richard Grey, it is not surprising that Richard Woodville, along with his brother Lionel Woodville, joined the interconnected series of uprisings against Richard III in the fall of 1483 known as Buckingham’s rebellion. (Richard and Lionel were brothers-in-law of Buckingham.) Richard Woodville was among the rebels who rose at Newbury. This rising, like all of the others, collapsed in the wake of Richard III’s swift reaction and Buckingham’s own capture and execution.

Richard Woodville, along with many other rebels, was attainted in the Parliament of 1484. As Richard III had executed his own brother-in-law, Thomas St. Leger, for his role in the uprising, as well as sundry other rebels, one wonders why Richard Woodville was spared. He does not seem to have fled abroad. Perhaps he went into sanctuary like his brother Lionel. In any case, by 1485, Richard III was trying to win over some of his former opponents. He pardoned Richard Woodville in March 1485 in exchange for a bond of 1,000 marks and a pledge of good behavior.

Whether Richard joined Henry Tudor’s forces at Bosworth is unknown. Following Richard III’s defeat there, Richard Woodville was restored to his estates, including those of his father, and became the third Earl Rivers, the title that his father and his brother Anthony had held before him. He took part in some of the ceremonial occasions of Henry VII’s reign, participating in the coronation of his niece Elizabeth of York and apparently at the christening of her first child, Arthur. During the reign, he served on commissions of the peace in Bedfordshire and Northhamptonshire and was among those commissioned to take musters of archers. Richard was also commissioned to investigate treasons, felonies, and conspiracies in Hereford in 1486 and to try petitions presented to Parliament in 1487. I have found nothing indicating whether he was at the battle of Stoke.

Though Elizabeth Woodville is generally condemned for using her queenly status to enrich her grasping family, Richard’s case illustrates how exaggerated this accusation is. Richard acquired neither great wealth nor power while his sister was queen; his lands came from his own family, not from royal largesse. Like his younger brother Edward, who also gained little materially from his royal connection, he does not even seem to have married.

Richard died on March 6, 1491, without issue. He was the last of the Woodville brothers. In his will, he requested burial at the Abbey of St. James at Northampton and bequeathed his lands to his nephew Thomas, Marquis of Dorset (Elizabeth Woodville’s surviving son by her first husband). He asked that the underwood at Grafton be sold so as to “buy a bell to be a tenor at Grafton to the bells now there, for a remembrance of the last of my blood.”

Booking Through Thursday: Format

From Booking Through Thursday:

All other things (like price and storage space) being equal, given a choice in a perfect world, would you rather have paperbacks in your library? Or hardcovers? And why?


Strangely, this is a hard question to answer! Hardbacks seem more durable, but I find trade paperbacks (not mass market paperbacks) physically easier to read. On balance, I think I'll say trade paperbacks, because they take up less space and I therefore have more room for books!

Mr. Despenser Collects Himself?

I woke this morning to the interesting, if unappetizing, news that remains of a corpse found at Hulton Abbey in Staffordshire have been identified by an anthropologist, Mary Lewis, as being those of Hugh le Despenser the younger, husband of the heroine of The Traitor's Wife. (Sorry, had to stick a little promo in here!)

In the article (which isn't for the faint of stomach; the graphic picture of Hugh being disemboweled is also included), Lewis notes that the body had been chopped into pieces, beheaded, and stabbed in the stomach (i.e., for disemboweling). This, of course, is how the unfortunate Hugh died. The body was of a man over 35 (Hugh would have been probably about 40) and could be dated between 1050 and 1385. Hugh died in 1326.

I, however, am not convinced that this body is Hugh's. As the Telegraph article points out, Hulton Abbey belonged to the estates of Hugh's sister-in-law, Margaret de Clare, and her husband, Hugh d'Audley. The Audleys had no love for the Despensers: after the battle of Boroughbridge in 1322 and before the fall of Edward II and the Despensers in 1326, Audley was a royal prisoner, and his wife, Margaret, was confined to Sempringham priory. It seems unlikely that they would have wanted Hugh le Despenser buried on their estates, or that the Despenser family would have wanted him buried there.

Moreover, Hugh's body parts seem to have been on display until at least December 15, 1330. That's when "the friends of Hugh le Despenser the younger" were given permission by Edward III to "collect his bones . . . and to carry them whither they may wish."** The order was directed to officials in London, York, Bristol, Carlisle, and Dover, these being the cities that were displaying part of Hugh. Hugh's widow, Eleanor, at this time had some land, though she had been forced to sign over her most valuable estates to the crown earlier in 1330. Moreover, by January 1331, she had been restored to all of her lands, including Tewkesbury, the abbey of which contains Hugh's tomb. So there would seem to be no good reason why she would have to bury Hugh, or parts of him, on land belonging to her sister and her husband when she had perfectly good land of her own to bury Hugh's body parts.

So whose corpse is this? Personally, I suspect it was someone killed after the battle of Boroughbridge, when Edward II, who could be ruthless, executed a number of those who had rebelled against him. Most of these men seem to have died by hanging, with no dismemberment following, but some are known to have been decapitated and may have been quartered as well. As Audley had been in rebellion against Edward II, it would make sense if one of his executed followers was subsequently buried on Audley's estates.

I'll be interested to see what Alianore, Lady D, and other Edward II/Despenser scholars have to say on this matter!

**Because of the following passage in Charles Dickens' Our Mutual Friend, I have never been able to read this order with a straight face. In the chapter entitled "Mr. Wegg Looks After Himself," Silas Wegg, an amputee, is paying a visit to Mr. Venus, an articulator of bones who has come into possession of one of Wegg's legs:

'Where am I?' asks Mr Wegg.

'You're somewhere in the back shop across the yard, sir; and speaking quite candidly, I wish I'd never bought you of the Hospital Porter.'

'Now, look here, what did you give for me?'

'Well,' replies Venus, blowing his tea: his head and face peering out of the darkness, over the smoke of it, as if he were modernizing the old original rise in his family: 'you were one of a warious lot, and I don't know.'

Silas puts his point in the improved form of 'What will you take for me?'

'Well,' replies Venus, still blowing his tea, 'I'm not prepared, at a moment's notice, to tell you, Mr Wegg.'

'Come! According to your own account I'm not worth much,' Wegg reasons persuasively.

'Not for miscellaneous working in, I grant you, Mr Wegg; but you might turn out valuable yet, as a--' here Mr Venus takes a gulp of tea, so hot that it makes him choke, and sets his weak eyes watering; 'as a Monstrosity, if you'll excuse me.'

Repressing an indignant look, indicative of anything but a disposition to excuse him, Silas pursues his point.

'I think you know me, Mr Venus, and I think you know I never bargain.'

Mr Venus takes gulps of hot tea, shutting his eyes at every gulp, and opening them again in a spasmodic manner; but does not commit himself to assent.

'I have a prospect of getting on in life and elevating myself by my own independent exertions,' says Wegg, feelingly, 'and I shouldn't like--I tell you openly I should NOT like--under such circumstances, to be what I may call dispersed, a part of me here, and a part of me there, but should wish to collect myself like a genteel person.'

In Which the Intelligence Quotient of This Blog Takes Yet Another Sharp Descent

OK, I'm still feeling brain-dead. So here's some results from the BBC's very own Valentine Name Generator:

Queen Isabella = Snuggles
Edward II = Atlas
Roger Mortimer = Poochie Woochie
Piers Gaveston = Drum Sticks
Hugh le Despenser = Pumpkin
Eleanor de Clare = Yum Yums
Edward III = Gold Member
Philippa of Hainault = Snuggles (Isabella isn't going to like that one bit, dearie.)

Elizabeth Woodville = Miffy
Edward IV = Drum Sticks (is there something we don't know about him and William Hastings?)
William Hastings = Drum Sticks (oh, there's definitely something here)
Harry Buckingham = Horny Honey (too much time alone on the Welsh border?)
Richard III = Donkey Derby (that's what you get for killing those sweet little Princes)

Henry Tudor = Shnookums
Elizabeth of York = Angel Pie

Henry VIII = Snoopy
Catharine of Aragon = Love Bunny
Anne Boleyn = Sex kitten
Jane Seymour = Tufty
Anne of Cleves = Cutiepops
Katherine Howard = Fairy Cake
Katherine Parr = Miffy

Elizabeth I = Snuggles (again?)

And for the man who wrote, "What's in a name?":

William Shakespeare = Diggler

Romance Cover Generator

It being near Valentine's Day, and my brain being rather tired tonight (no unkind comments, please), I went looking for something easy to do for my blog and found this Romance Novel Generator. Here's some results (as you can see, the word count is quite limited):

John Woodville and His Elderly Bride

As I mentioned earlier, I've been posting mini-biographies of the various Woodville family members on my website. Here's the latest:

John Woodville, described as being age 20 in 1465, was probably the second or third of Elizabeth Woodville’s brothers.

John is notorious, of course, for marrying Katherine Neville, Duchess of Norfolk, a wealthy widow well into her sixties at the time. Katherine was a sister of Cecily, Duchess of York, and of Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury; she thus was aunt both to Edward IV and to his mentor, the Earl of Warwick. She was no stranger to the marriage rite, having been married first to John Mowbray, the second Duke of Norfolk, who died in 1432. Her second marriage, which took place before January 27, 1442, was an unlicensed match to Sir Thomas Strangways, a knight who had been in her husband’s service. Sir Thomas had died by August 25, 1443, on which date Katherine married John Beaumont, first Viscount Beaumont. Katherine’s third husband was killed at the Battle of Northampton in 1460. His widow was about sixty at the time.

Katherine and John married in January 1465, just a few months after Edward IV had announced his marriage to Elizabeth Woodville. William Worcester decried the match as a “diabolical marriage” (though he thought the lady was eighty), and it has been roundly denounced by historians and novelists, particularly of the Ricardian bent, as a shocking example of Woodville greed. While John’s motives were undoubtedly mercenary and the age gap an unusual one, nothing supports the notion that the elderly lady was forced into the match by the Woodvilles or by her nephew the king or that she found it offensive or degrading. Outwardly, at least, she and her family seem to have been on good terms with the Woodvilles. At the banquet following Elizabeth’s coronation a few months after the marriage, Katherine was seated at a table with the queen’s mother. Her grandson, John Mowbray, the fourth Duke of Norfolk (who was about the same age as her new husband) played a prominent role at the coronation, where he fulfilled his hereditary duties as marshall of England. Perhaps Katherine happened to find the young man’s company congenial.

On May 23, 1465, as part of the ceremonies leading up to Elizabeth’s coronation, John was made a Knight of the Bath, along with his brother Richard and several dozen other men. In 1467, Edward granted him the reversion of certain of Katherine’s dower lands. These had been forfeited by William, second Viscount Beaumont, Katherine’s Lancastrian stepson from her third marriage.

John served as the queen’s Master of Horse, for which he received forty pounds per year. Like his father and his brother Anthony, he was fond of tournaments. In 1467, he fought in one alongside the king’s closest friend, William Hastings; the king and Anthony Woodville fought on the other side. The following year, he and Anthony were among the English entourage that escorted Margaret, Edward IV’s youngest sister, to Burgundy for her wedding to its duke. John was named the Prince of the Tournament that followed the wedding ceremony.

In June 1469, John accompanied Edward IV on a pilgrimage to Bury St. Edmunds and Walsingham. (One of the king’s other companions was the king’s youngest brother, Richard, Duke of Gloucester. This seems to be the first and last time recorded time Richard’s and John’s paths intersected, though they had likely encountered each other at court before that.) Trouble, however, was brewing in the person of Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, who had allied himself with the king’s other brother, George, Duke of Clarence. Warwick had several grudges against the crown, not the least of which was the growing influence of the Woodvilles at court. In a manifesto issued from Calais, he targeted Anthony and John Woodville and their father, along with several other men, as royal favorites that were harming the realm. The king sent the Woodville men away for their safety, but to no avail in the case of John and his father. On August 12, 1469, the two were captured by Warwick’s troops and beheaded outside Coventry without trial.

John’s burial place, like that of his father, is unknown. On May 29, 1475, however, Anthony Woodville granted land to Eton College; the indenture speaks of the “rele love and singular devocion” that John bore the college, which Edward IV had come close to abolishing because of its associations with Henry VI but which had regained some royal favor by the late 1460’s. Perhaps Anthony intended that his brother’s body be moved to Eton. Each year on October 30, a hearse with wax candles was to be erected and an obit held for John’s soul; the college was also to say daily masses for the king and queen, their children, Anthony, his late parents and John, and his other siblings. John was also remembered by Walter Blount, Lord Mountjoy, who asked in his will that masses be said for John and his father.

Katherine, John’s aged widow, was to survive her youthful groom by fourteen years. She was issued robes for Richard III’s coronation in 1483 and died later that year.

Over at Yesterday Revisited . . .

I have an interview with Barbara Passaris, author of Through Tempest Forged, set in revolutionary-era Virginia. Check out the interview (and the book)!

New Poll, And a Useful Site for Us Yanks

Finally, there's a new poll in the sidebar. Keep scrolling down, you'll find it!

In getting ready for my reading (look in the trusty sidebar), I ran across this Wikipedia site that I found useful: embedded pronunciations of UK place names. I feel much better knowing how to pronounce "Berwick" and "Hereford" now! (Unless this is some sort of sinister conspiracy to delude us poor Americans into thinking we're pronouncing the names the right way, when we're really not. Nah. Must be too much Fox News in the background today.) It needs some adding to, though, so if you know how to pronounce "Warwick," I'm sure someone will appreciate your input!

Eva's Book Meme, and a Blogger Housekeeping Note

Marg tagged me for Eva's Book Meme*:

Which book do you irrationally cringe away from reading, despite seeing only positive reviews?

Like Marg, I think I'd have to answer Dorothy Dunnett's books. I hear mostly good things about them, and I think I even have a copy of King Hereafter in my garage, but I just can't bite. I think it's that for all the good I hear about her books, they just seem like too much work. And I do enough of that at the day job!

If you could bring three characters to life for a social event (afternoon tea, a night of clubbing, perhaps a world cruise), who would they be and what would the event be?

Being that this is a historical fiction blog, I'll pick Richard III, Edward IV, and Edward II and take them clubbing. (Though somehow I can't picture Richard III enjoying it much.) Hopefully, after a long evening of drinking, I'd hear (a) what really happened to the Princes, (b) whether there was a precontract, and (c) what really did happen in Berkeley Castle.

(Borrowing shamelessly from the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde): you are told you can't die until you read the most boring novel on the planet. While this immortality Longevity-Industry Dec-07 is great for awhile, eventually you realise it's past time to die. Which book would you expect to get you a nice grave?

I'm having a difficult time with this one, because although I can think of a lot of books I dislike, it's usually not because they're boring but because of something else--it's because they're poorly written, or pretentious, or have stereotypical characters. Things like that. That being said, I did have a hard time wading through Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway (this was back when I was younger and would finish any book I started, no matter how dreary). Almost everyone in it struck me as an upper-class twit (except for the lower-class characters), and I didn't give a rap about Clarissa's former love or about her angsty family. So I'll pick that. (Come to think of it, Woolf did manage to make London seem like a pretty boring place. And that's quite a feat now that I think of it.)

Come on, we've all been there. Which book have you pretended, or at least hinted, that you've read, when in fact you've been nowhere near it?

I really can't think of one. The closest I can come to recalling is Howards End by E.M. Forster, which we were given the option to read in one of my English classes years ago. I opted out, and sat through the class discussion trying to look as if I knew what the professor was talking about.

As an addition to the last question, has there been a book that you really thought you had read, only to realise when you read a review about it/go to 'reread' it that you haven't? Which book?

I can't ever remember this happening. I'm more likely to read a book and forget I read it.

You've been appointed Book Advisor to a VIP (who's not a big reader). What's the first book you'd recommend and why? (if you feel like you'd have to know the person, go ahead of personalise the VIP)

Depends on the VIP. I'd probably pick a nationally known talk show host and advise them to read one of my novels in the hopes of getting a mention!

A good fairy comes and grants you one wish: you will have perfect reading comprehension in the foreign language of your choice. Which language do you go with?

Latin, so I can wade through medieval documents to my heart's content!

A mischievous fairy comes and says that you must choose one book that you will reread once a year for the rest of your life (you can read other books as well). Which book would you pick?

Charles Dickens's Bleak House.

I know that the book blogging community, and its various challenges, have pushed my reading borders. What's one bookish thing you 'discovered' from book blogging (maybe a new genre, or author, or new appreciation for cover art-anything)?

I've discovered all sorts of great people through blogging--just look at the sidebar for just a few of them!

That good fairy is back for one final visit. Now, she's granting you your dream library! Describe it. Is everything leatherbound? Is it full of first edition hardcovers? Pristine trade paperbacks? Perhaps a few favourite authors have inscribed their works? Go ahead-let your imagination run free.

I don't really care what the books look like, as long as they're in good condition with easy to read type. (I tried to read a mass-market paperback of Antonia Fraser's Mary, Queen of Scots a while back and couldn't do it--the typeface was so dense and the book so thick it was impossible to crack it open to read that easily. It was an almost painful process.) The main thing I want is just room to put them in! So a big house with lots of extra rooms would be my dream library--with, of course, some comfy chairs to read in.

One of the sexier things I've seen recently are the movable bookshelves in the Duke University library. You press a button and they can move together to give you more room to get to an adjoining bookshelf, or you can press another button and they move apart so that you can go into the stacks. If Oprah ever discovers me, that's what I'll be spending the sales proceeds on.

*And, for extra credit, if you leave a comment letting Eva know you've done the meme with a link to the post, she will give you some link love via a big list of who's participated. Additionally, if you link back to her original post, she will enter you in a drawing to win The House at Riverton. If you're an American, this is especially exciting since it isn't going to published until April. ;) To be in the drawing, you must have posted the meme (and commented) by February 5th, which is when she is holding the drawing.

OK, now to interrupt for a housekeeping note:

I've been pretty erratic about posting to my Unromantic Richard III and Plenty About Plaidy blogs, so I'm not going to be keeping them up anymore--all my posts will go here. The archives will still be available, though.

Richard Woodville, First Earl Rivers

As I come along with my novel in progress, I'm going to be adding short biographies of members of the Woodville family to my website. Here's the starting entry:

Richard Woodville’s father, also Richard, had been chamberlain to John, Duke of Bedford, a younger son of Henry IV. The younger Richard was knighted in 1426. Like his father, he served the Duke of Bedford, who in 1433 married the seventeen-year-old Jacquetta of Luxembourg. Bedford died two years later. Sometime in 1436 or 1437, Richard Woodville, a mere knight, shocked the court by marrying the widowed Duchess of Bedford.

Henry VI fined the couple ₤1,000 for the match, but they were soon forgiven. Richard served Henry VI militarily and administratively and became a knight banneret in 1442, Baron Rivers in 1448, and a Knight of the Garter in 1450. Like his eldest son, Anthony, he was an accomplished jouster, taking part in a 1440 tournament at Smithfield where he fought Pedro de Vasquez, a Spanish knight.

When hostilities broke out between the houses of Lancaster and York, Richard sided with the Lancastrians. He and Anthony were taken captive at Sandwich in 1460; at that time, the two Woodvilles underwent the humiliating experience of being “rated” for their low birth by the Earl of Salisbury, the Earl of Warwick, and the Earl of March—the latter being the man who would marry his daughter four years later. Sometime after this dressing down, Richard and Anthony were released. They returned to fight at the Battle of Towton in March 1461, where the Lancastrians were soundly defeated. With the Lancastrian cause appearing hopeless, Richard and his son made their peace with the new king, Edward IV. He was pardoned in June 1461. From thereon to his murder nine years later, Richard served Edward IV loyally. By 1463, he had become a member of the king’s council.

Richard might have continued as a minor courtier had it not been for the extraordinary event of May 1464—the secret marriage of his widowed daughter, Elizabeth, to Edward IV. Whether Richard had any role in bringing the couple together is unknown; later sources credit only his wife, Jacquetta, with promoting the match, and Richard III later claimed that Jacquetta and Elizabeth had procured it by witchcraft.

In September 1464, Edward announced the marriage to his council, and in May 1465, Elizabeth was crowned. Richard soon reaped the rewards of being father-in-law to the king. He was made treasurer of England in March 1466 and raised to an earldom in May of that year. In 1467, he became constable of England. His income from his offices was ₤1,586

Though Richard seems to have filled his positions competently and the favor shown to him was not grossly disproportionate, his success and the gains made by other Woodville family members aroused the resentment of Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, known as “The Kingmaker” for his role in bringing Edward IV to the throne. Warwick’s formerly all-encompassing influence with the king was waning just as the Woodvilles’ was growing. The earl had other grievances besides the Woodvilles—Edward’s foreign policy and his refusal to allow Warwick’s daughters to marry Edward’s younger brothers among them—but they and other men who had risen high in the king’s service as royal favorites were easy targets. As Warwick began to plot with the king’s maladroit younger brother, George, the Duke of Clarence, discontent in the North over taxes and the dispossession of Henry Percy from his family’s earldom created a volatile situation of which Warwick and Clarence took full advantage. In Calais on July 12, 1469, they issued a proclamation complaining of “the deceitful, covetous rule and guiding of certain seditious persons,” naming Richard Woodville, his wife, his sons Anthony and John and their brothers, and several other men.

Warwick returned to England and began to raise men. Edward IV, evidently underestimating the seriousness of the situation, had left William Herbert, the Earl of Pembroke, and Humphrey Stafford, the Earl of Devon—two of the men named in Warwick and Clarence’s manifesto—to deal with the rebel army. Herbert’s army met Warwick’s army at Edgecote on July 26, 1469. Outnumbered, Herbert’s Welsh troops were defeated and Herbert captured and beheaded by Warwick’s men. Humphrey Stafford was captured and executed by a mob some weeks later.

Richard Woodville, in the meantime, had gone on pilgrimage with Edward early in June. By July, Edward IV, fearing all too correctly that his in-laws might be a rebel target, sent them away for their safety. Richard and his son John, however, were captured by Warwick’s men. On August 12, 1469, they were beheaded near Coventry without trial. It was an act that has rightly been described as one of private revenge on Warwick’s part rather than one justified by charges of treason. Richard’s burial site is unknown. Interestingly, Walter Blount, who had given up the treasury to Woodville in exchange for a barony, an annuity, and 1,000 marks, seems to have borne no grudge against his replacement; he asked in his will several years later that masses be said for the souls of Richard and John.

Though Richard Woodville, along with other members of his family, has been described as greedy and grasping, the hard evidence for this is somewhat lacking. Richard does appear in a bad light if one believes the story that he and Jacquetta schemed to ruin Sir Thomas Cook based on charges of treason simply because he refused to sell them a tapestry Jacquetta coveted. Recent scholarship, however, has cast doubts on aspects of this story, which I’ll be posting on later.

Booking Through Thursday: Huh?

From Booking Through Thursday:

What’s your favorite book that nobody else has heard of? You know, not Little Women or Huckleberry Finn, not the latest best-seller . . . whether they’ve read them or not, everybody “knows” those books. I’m talking about the best book that, when you tell people that you love it, they go, “Huh? Never heard of it?”

Great question!

I'm rather fond of the novels of James Wilcox, whose books get into bookstores but never get the front-of-store billing that some others do. Some are set in a small town in Louisiana; others are set in New York City. The Louisiana ones are better, in my opinion. They're comic with a hint of tragedy. My favorite is probably Miss Undine's Living Room.

Probably my favorite obscure book is Steven Millhauser's Edwin Mullhouse: The Life and Death of an American Writer 1943-1954 by Jeffrey Cartwright. The novel, which takes the form of a biography written by a 11-year-old about his recently deceased friend of the same age, is often hilarious, yet also charming and touching. It also splendidly evokes the atmosphere of 1950's America, in and outside the classroom.

Historical-fiction-wise, I've mentioned it before on this blog, I think, but some of my favorite obscure novels are now out-of-print novels about the reign of Edward II, namely, The King's Minions and The Queen and Mortimer by Brenda Honeyman, The Lion and the Leopard by Mary Ellen Johnston, and The Lord of Misrule and King's Wake by Eve Trevaskis.

Moving on to obscure Richard III fiction, I borrowed Presumed Guilty by Evelyn Rosenthal from the Richard III Society's library the other day and was quite impressed by it. Published by Vantage Press, a subsidy press, in 1982 when self-publishing was still an expensive undertaking, it tells its story (through Buckingham, Elizabeth of York, Francis Lovell, Margaret of Burgundy, and John Morton) as well as or better than most other Ricardian novels I've read, and it's a hell of a lot better researched than many of them. Pity it was published before the days of print-on-demand; it'd be easier to find a copy for sale!

Odds and Ends; and Edward II's Reign in a Nutshell

SonjaMarie over at the Historical Fiction Board linked to this site of historical figures by George S. Stuart. I liked his English figures--pity he hasn't done the Plantagenets.

Saw a link to Book-A-Minute Classics over at the Smart Bitches blog. Check out the classics--I particularly liked their take on Virginia Woolf and David Copperfield.

Naturally, that got me thinking I should do a fast version of the story of Edward II's reign (you can find another version here by Neadods):

Barons: We don't like your favorite, Piers Gaveston.

Edward II: Oh? Well, that's too bad. Do something about it.

(Barons execute Gaveston.)

Barons: We don't like your favorites, the Despensers.

Edward II: Oh? Well, that's too bad. Do something about it.

(Barons execute Despensers.)

Barons: We don't like you.

Edward II: Oh? Well, that's too bad. Do some-- OUCH!

Edward III: Mother, I don't like your lover, Roger Mortimer.

Isabella: Oh? Well, that's too bad. Do something about it.

(Edward III executes Mortimer.)

Isabella: Son? You do like me, don't you?

Edward III: Sure, Mom.

Isabella (sighing): Good. Had me worried there for a moment.

Monday Morning Keywords

higginbotham family scotland

You ought to see the kilts the Higginbotham men wear. Bare-chested, naturally.

hugh t. despenser

There's Hugh the elder, Hugh the younger, and Hugh the Mr. T. Despenser. I probably won't be writing about the latter.

i heard that you are working with childrens isabella

Nothing like a little charity work to rehabilitate one's image

isabel denounces he sisters-in-law for adultery

You skanks!

how to get to blacklow hill

Get a lonely young prince to fall in love with you, let him make you an earl and give you a lot of land, and call the barons funny names and make them kneel to you once the prince becomes king.

king henry viii called catherine of aragon a cow

snippets from william shakespeare

Henry: O, Catherine. This I say to you. Thou art a cow, unlike the slim maiden Anne Boleyn.

Catherine: Look who talketh.

Review: Jane Boleyn by Julia Fox

As everyone knows, Jane Boleyn, bitterly jealous of her husband George's close relationship with his sister Anne Boleyn, gave evidence that led to the executions of both for adultery. Not satisfied with that, Jane went on to serve Catherine Howard, where for twisted reasons she aided and abetted the queen's adultery with Thomas Culpepper, leading to Catherine's execution and Jane's own as well.

In Jane Boleyn: The True Story of the Infamous Lady Rochford, Julia Fox demolishes this long-accepted story by looking at contemporary sources. She notes that there is no evidence that Jane was on poor terms with her husband or with Anne Boleyn and no reason why she would want to exchange her very comfortable life as George's spouse and the queen's sister-in-law for the precarious existence of a traitor's widow living off a small jointure. When George was in prison, she sent a letter to him through the constable of the Tower promising to attempt to intercede on his behalf, a promise that cheered the imprisoned man. She did not testify at George's trial (no one did), but on pretrial questioning by Cromwell may have told him that Anne had complained of Henry's difficulty in sustaining an erection, a statement that George at trial was requested not to read aloud but did, with disastrous consequences when the statement was twisted to suggest that Henry could not function sexually at all and thus could not have fathered Anne's child.

Fox follows the widowed Jane through her subsequent service to Jane Seymour and Anne of Cleves to her service with Catherine Howard. She points out the difficult position Jane faced when asked to assist with Catherine's communications with Culpepper: she could refuse and be sent in disgrace from court, where she had succeeded in making sort of a career for herself and where her life was centered, or she could go to Henry and risk his wrath if she turned out to be wrong about the queen's intentions. Once she realized the full extent of what was happening, it was too late to extricate herself. She chose to keep silent and to continue to obey her queen, a disastrous choice but one for which she accepted the consequences with composure and courage.

In Jane Boleyn, Fox not only reassesses Jane's tarnished reputation and shows us how she became reviled over the centuries, she introduces us to Jane's upbringing and family, including her scholarly father, who had the misfortune to survive Jane and who may have quietly recorded his grief in a translation presented to Henry VIII.

Well researched and full of compassion for its subject, this is a must read for those interested in the Tudors--and even for those who aren't.

Booking Through Thursday: Anticipation

From Booking Through Thursday:

Last week we talked about the books you liked best from 2007. So this week, what with it being a new year, and all, we’re looking forward….

What new books are you looking forward to most in 2008? Something new being published this year? Something you got as a gift for the holidays? Anything in particular that you’re planning to read in 2008 that you’re looking forward to? A classic, or maybe a best-seller from 2007 that you’re waiting to appear in paperback?

I'm looking forward to Ian Mortimer's book The Time Travelers' Guide to Medieval England (scheduled for October, according to his website). Also in the nonfiction department, I'm looking forward to A. J. Pollard's Warwick the Kingmaker (not to be confused with Michael Hicks' and Paul Murray Kendall's books by the same name).

On the fiction front, it seems to me that it's about time for another Anne Tyler or P. D. James novel, but I don't know if either author has a release scheduled for this year. If either does, I'll be buying it the day of publication! Looking forward to seeing what Philippa Gregory and Alison Weir's forthcoming novels are like, though I do rather wish they'd chosen less written about people (Mary, Queen of Scots and Elizabeth I are their respective subjects). Speaking of Tudor women, I'm interested to see what Brandy Purdy makes of Anne Boleyn in her Vengeance Is Mine. Dropping back two centuries, I'm looking foward to David Blixt's sequel to The Master of Verona.

So: a lot to look forward to. I just need to get more time for reading!

New Post on My Richard III Blog

Stop by if you're interested in Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, and his duchess! (Yes, I have been writing a lot about the chap lately, haven't I?)

Happy New Year!

I'm working on a very long post for my recently neglected Unromantic Richard III blog, so this is just a quickie. I'm not big on New Year's resolutions in general (for one thing, other than Teddy Grahams and GummiSavers, I don't have much to give up, unless I cut my Amazon expenditure in half, which would not be a good thing), but there are a few things I'd like to do in relation to my reading and writing:

Read a novel in Colleen McCullough's Rome series. I always hear good things about it, so I'd like to find out what I'm missing!

Get most, if not all, of my third novel completed this year--100,000 words, not any wimpy 60,000 words either.

Update my website with some more Medieval Miniatures, as most of the comments I get on the site seem to come from people who have read one of them.

Keep my blogs more up to date.

Read the books that have been sitting on my shelf since last year before buying any new ones. Actually, I broke that resolution just a couple of hours ago. Oh, well--there are worst things, I guess!

The Dumbest Question a Computer Has Asked Me Today

Doing a keyword search on a university library catalog for "Elizabeth Woodville," I received less than a handful of results and this helpful inquiry:

Did you mean elizabeth woodpile?

Obviously a Ricardian programmer at work here.

Booking Through Thursday: Highlights

From Booking Through Thursday:

It’s an old question, but a good one . . . What were your favorite books this year?

List as many as you like … fiction, non-fiction, mystery, romance, science-fiction, business, travel, cookbooks … whatever the category. But, really, we’re all dying to know. What books were the highlight of your reading year in 2007?

This has been a peculiar reading year for me. My reading time has been cut down a lot, partly because of my writing, partly because I no longer have a period of enforced leisure while I sit in my van and wait for my daughter to come out of school. (She's on a different schedule now.) So while I can make a list, the field I had to choose from wasn't as broad as I wish it would have been. Still . . .

Favorite historical novel read in 2007: The King's Touch by Jude Morgan. Vivid characterizations, sharp, unfussy, but lovely writing style.

Favorite historical novel read in 2007 that was actually published in 2007: Nefertiti by Michelle Moran. Lively characterizations and a sympathetic heroine. Another favorite: Mozart's Sister by Rita Charbonnier.

Favorite reissued historical novel: The King's Pleasure by Norah Lofts.

Favorite Jean Plaidy novel read in 2007: The Queen's Favorites.

Favorite nonfiction: The Yorkists by Anne Crawford. Also enjoyed Ian Mortimer's The Fears of Henry IV, Nancy Goldstone's Four Queens: The Provencal Sisters Who Ruled Europe, and Andrew Ferguson's Land of Lincoln: Adventures in Abe's America.

Favorite Ricardian Novel: Richard Plantagenet by Brenda Clarke. He's the good guy, of course, but at least he's not as insufferably perfect and the other characters as villainous as they might have been, and the writing is exceptionally good.

Favorite adult historical novel I read only because it was a review book and found myself enjoying very much: Courting Trouble by Deanne Gist.

Favorite young adult historical novel I read only because it was a review book and found myself enjoying: Louisiana's Song by Kerry Madden.

Favorite Jane Austen spinoff: More Letters From Pemberley by Jane Dawkins.

Favorite tacky cover: The King's Mistress by Jean Plaidy. (See it here.)

So there you have it! I'm hoping in 2008 that I'll have a longer list from which to choose--but there's still some great stuff here.

Boswell in His Santa Hat: Part 2

Blog Advent Calendar

Well, it's my turn on the Blog Advent Calendar! Here are the other participants. (Blogger's being mean about pasting in links, so you can find a list with links here.)

9 December - Raidergirl (An Adventure in Reading)/ Chris (Stuff as Dreams are Made on)
10 December - Dewey (The Hidden Side of a Leaf)
11 December -Suey (It's All About Books)
12 December - Chris (Book-a-rama)
13 December - Jill (The Well-Read Child)/Stephanie (The Written Word)
14 December - Robin (A Fondness for Reading)
15 December - Alyssa (By The Book)
16 December - Rachel (A Fair Substitute for Heaven)
17 December - Literary Feline (Musings of a Bookish Kitty)/ Stephanie (Stephanie's Confessions of a Book-a-holic)
18 December - Dev (Good Reads)
19 December - Callista (S.M.S. Book Reviews)
20 December - Tiny Little Librarian (Tiny Little Librarian)
21 December - Carla (Carla Nayland Historical Fiction)/ Susan (Reading, Raving, and Ranting by a Historical Fiction Writer)
22 December - Carolyn Jean (The Trillionth Page)
23 December - Booklogged (A Reader's Journal)
24 December - Kailana (The Written World) / Carl V. (Stainless Steel Droppings)

First, here's Boswell in my daughter's Victoria's Secret Santa hat (photo shoot courtesy of my daughter):



Second, thanks to Joan Szechtman, who posted the link over at the Richard III Society discussion group, here's some caroling Roombas.

Third, our feature presentation: The Duke of Debenhams: A Christmas Eve Playlet (see below). Henry, Duke of Buckingham, is said to haunt Debenhams department store in Salisbury, built on the site of his execution . . .

Merry Christmas, everyone, and Happy New Year! I hope it will be a good one for all of you.

The Duke of Debenhams: A Christmas Eve Playlet

(It is closing time on Christmas Eve at Debenhams department store in Salisbury. As the last customer leaves the Mens department, the staff mills around, tidying up, counting the day’s receipts, chatting idly, and so forth. The employees leave in several groups, until at last, two employees shut off the lights in the department and head toward the exit.)

Employee 1: Well, see you on Boxing Day! Merry Christmas!

Employee 2: Merry Christmas! (Turns to look at the men’s department, now empty of workers.) And Merry Christmas, Duke Harry!

(Sounds of locking doors and disappearing footsteps are heard in the distance. Finally, all falls silent. A ghostly shape, dressed in 15th-century clothing, comes into view, turns on a light, and looks around him.)

Buckingham: At last. Left in peace for another Christmas. (Walks around the department and fingers the merchandise on the racks.) So shall it be sporty casual or a suit? Well. It’s a festive occasion. A suit might be too stuffy. But definitely not jeans. Trousers and-- Here we go! A cashmere jumper. Perfect. Now for some fragrance. (A floorboard creaks.) What? Who comes here? Security? Oh, what a nuisance. I’ll move something through the air and scare them off.

Richard III: It’s not security.

Buckingham: That voice! I recognize it.

Richard III: So. You do recognize your rightful king after all this time.

Buckingham: Richard?

Richard III: “Your grace” to you.

Buckingham: Well--all right. Your grace. What brings you here?

Richard III: My spirit grows restless at times. Just as yours does, it seems. (Looks around him.) Ready to wear? Not quite your style, I would have thought.

Buckingham: Obviously you haven’t seen the designer items here. Very upmarket.

Richard III: (Frowning at a polyester blend.) If you say so. And so this is where your spirit wanders?

Buckingham: Since 1483 when you executed me on this site. Oh, it’s changed over the years, of course. But it’s been a department store here for many years, and I couldn’t be happier. Very comfortable surroundings. (Grins maliciously.) And your gravesite is now covered by a car park, I understand.

Richard III: Thanks to faithless creatures like yourself.

Buckingham: Richard, it would be lovely to spend the evening reminiscing about old times with you, but the truth is, I’m expecting a friend tonight. A very special friend.

Richard III: One of your slimy Woodville in-laws?

Buckingham: Oh, no, they wouldn’t be caught dead with me now. (Laughs eerily.) Get it?

Richard III: I see you haven’t lost that irritating habit of laughing at your own jokes.

Buckingham: Well, at least I can make one.

Richard III: So who is it, then?

Buckingham: A lady friend. Other than that, I’m not saying. Oh, well, I’ll tell you this much. She’s French.

Richard III: Margaret of Anjou! I knew you were always a Lancastrian deep down. Why, that viper! How dare you--

Buckingham: It is not Margaret of Anjou, for God’s sake. Don’t get your knickers in a twist. Speaking of knickers, there’s some lovely bra-and-knicker sets over in Lingerie. They were just flying off the shelves today.

Richard III: So, not Margaret of Anjou. But who?

Buckingham: (Coyly) I’m not telling!

Richard III: Maybe she’d like to spend an evening with a king. Have you ever thought of that?

Buckingham: No. This lady has had quite enough of kings. (Aside) And so have I. (To Richard) Now, your grace. I’m sure you must be lonely. But you do have the Richard III Society to console yourself with, you know. There’s no Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham Society, after all.

Richard III: I know. But sometimes that just isn’t enough. (Fiddles nervously with neckties hanging on a rack.) Harry, there’s something I’ve always wanted to know. What did you mean to tell me before I executed you? I’ve always wondered.

Buckingham: (Sulkily) Well, you could have let me speak with you then and found out, couldn’t you? But no. You had to get up on your high horse, didn’t you?

Richard III: Can’t you tell me now?

Buckingham: Well, I just don’t know. It’s hard to think back that far--

Richard III: Please, Harry? For old times’ sake? If you do, I’ll leave you and your lady friend alone. And I’ll never come back. I promise.

Buckingham: Oh, very well. What I wanted to say was--

Richard III: Yes? Yes?

Buckingham: What I meant to say was—

Richard III: Oh, do not prolong my agony!

Buckingham: That I was truly, truly sorry, and that I thought you were going to make a great king, and that I wished you an early Merry Christmas. That’s all.

Richard III: Truly?

Buckingham: Truly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must go to Home and get some champagne and flutes.

Richard III: Thank you, Harry! I feel much better now. Merry Christmas!

Buckingham: Merry Christmas, your grace. Good night! (Aside, as Richard exits) First he and his stupid Society try to pin the murder of the Princes on me and dear aunt Maggie, then he tries to ruin my perfect evening.

(Buckingham exits. When he returns, he has changed into a cashmere jumper and trousers and is carrying champagne and two flutes. Then a rustling sound comes from offstage. Queen Isabella, widow of Edward II, enters. She does not look a day over twenty-five.)

Buckingham: Isabella, dearest! You came! All the way from Castle Rising!

Isabella: Why, of course, Harry! (Runs and embraces him, then looks around.) Oh, my. This certainly is much nicer than that dreary old castle.

Buckingham: Didn’t I tell you so, your grace, when my spirit was abroad in Norfolk the other day? Yes, this is the life. So to speak.

Isabella: Oh, Harry. Such a card you are. (Looks around some more.) Look at all these clothes. Harry. Tell me. Is there a Womens department?

Buckingham: Why, of course. You could find yourself something more comfortable to slip into in Lingerie. And there’s a Home department, with--er--bedding. But I’ll show you that later, your grace. Why don’t we just have some champagne now?

Isabella: Harry, not with all of those clothes to look at! You just wait here. I’ll be back soon. (Hurries away. The stage grows dark for a few minutes, and then Isabella returns. She has been to Luggage as well as to Womens. Her suitcases are bulging and her hands are flashing with rings from Jewellery.) Harry, I’ve never had such a wonderful Christmas Eve in my life, not even since dear Mortimer and I were an item! Thank you so much for bringing me here!

Buckingham: You don’t mean you’re leaving now?

Isabella: Why, dear, I must go home and try on all of these clothes and jewels! But we’ll get together soon. Toodles, dearie!

Buckingham: Toodles. (Sits down dejectedly.) Someone warned me that she was a she-wolf. Well, another Christmas Eve by myself. It’s going to be a long one. (Gulps some champagne.)

Gaveston: Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that.

Buckingham: Piers Gaveston? From Scarborough Castle?

Gaveston: The one and the same. (Picks up champagne.) Nice champers you’ve got here. May I join you?

Buckingham: Well--of course. (Moves away a little bit.)

Gaveston: Oh, don’t be shy.

Buckingham: It’s just that my tastes don’t run in that direction, you know.

Gaveston: Oh, I know. I understand the fair Isabella spurned you. Consider yourself lucky. After what she had them do to poor dear Ned--

Buckingham: (Shuddering) You know, I think you’re right. It is good that she left. Good for Debenhams too. Why, the workers in Womens couldn’t stock the shelves fast enough for her. Me, I’m much more restrained. That’s why I get along here so well. (Confidingly) I really like it here, you know.

Gaveston: Indeed? (Buckingham nods, a bit too enthusiastically.) Harry, I’m beginning to think you don’t have a very good head for champagne.

Buckingham: Well, no. (Giggles.) Of course, that could be because I lost my head. And so did you. (Thoughtfully) You know, we have a lot in common, it seems.

Gaveston: We certainly do. Harry, why don’t you put down the champers and change into one of those robes I see? It’d be much more comfortable now that it’s so late. (Buckingham nods.) And I’ll slip into something more relaxing too.

(The stage goes dim for a few minutes. When the lights go on again, Gaveston and Buckingham enter from opposite sides, both wearing robes. Gaveston is carrying a small wrapped package.)

Buckingham: For me? Oh, you shouldn’t have. (The clock strikes midnight.) It’s Christmas Day! Can I open it?

Gaveston: Why, of course.

Buckingham: Slippers!

Gaveston: Brown, just like your beautiful eyes.

Buckingham: Why--thank you. That’s the loveliest thing anyone ever said to me, and that includes Richard III when he said he was going to give me the Bohun lands. (Steps closer, as does Gaveston.) Merry Christmas, Piers.

Gaveston: Merry Christmas, Harry.

(The curtain falls as they embrace passionately)

FINIS

Three More Search Terms

Couldn't resist adding these before January starts up and they no longer appear on my monthly report:

queen isabella is nice

OK, if you say so.

is it alright to call yourself dead since you are going to be

Can we get an ethicist over here, please?

for god s sake will you stop coughing??

Nothing like tea and sympathy, huh?

Anyway, tomorrow's my day for the Blog Advent Tour, so stay tuned! I've got a very cute picture of Bozzer and a playlet about the Duke of Buckingham in store.

Review Round-Up

As I'm completing some reviews for the February Historical Novels Review (my, time flies), here are some from the November issue. (I was a busy girl!)

Rivals for the Crown
Kathleen Givens, Pocket Books, 2007, $14.00/C$16.99, pb, 432pp, 9781416509929

In 1290 London, childhood friends Isabel de Burke and Rachel of Anjou are abruptly parted when Edward I expels the Jews from England. As Rachel and her family make their way to Scotland, where they start life anew as innkeepers, Isabel becomes a lady-in-waiting to Queen Eleanor of Castile. When tension between England and Scotland mounts, Isabel and Rachel find themselves caught in the middle—and attracted to two handsome Highlanders, cousins Rory MacGannon and Kieran MacDonald.

Givens' romantic historical is plotted deftly, with likeable main characters, plenty of intrigue and narrow escapes, and truly dastardly English villains in the Braveheart tradition, including the always reliably nasty Edward I (offstage) and his lecherous sidekick, Bishop Walter Langton. The book was marred for me, though, by the distinctly modern attitudes sometimes displayed by the sympathetic characters: for instance, in an age not noted for its religious tolerance, the only people opposed to the romance between Rachel and Kieran are Rachel's father and Rachel's Jewish fiancé (who as a butcher doesn't stand a chance against a handsome Highlander). Readers who can suspend their disbelief more readily, however, will likely enjoy this book.


The Queen's Handmaiden
Jennifer Ashley, Berkeley, 2007, $14.00/C$17.50, pb, 320pp, 9780425217320

Unwanted by her new stepfather, Eloise Rousell ends up in the care of her relation Kat Ashley, governess to Elizabeth Tudor. Growing up alongside her royal mistress, Eloise discovers that she has talents not only for dressmaking, but for intrigue—skills that Eloise will use to Elizabeth's advantage as the future queen is threatened from all sides.

Spanning the period from Edward VI's reign to the early years of Elizabeth's reign, from scandal with Thomas Seymour to scandal with Robert Dudley, this is a diverting tale, narrated by the resourceful, loyal Eloise in an engaging, lively fashion. A love story involving Eloise, though not so prominent as to intrude upon the main story, adds a nice touch.

Perhaps because so many events were packed into a relatively short space, however, I found that this novel was somewhat lacking in depth and focus—it was difficult to get a sense as to some of the characters' personalities and motivations. That being said, I found the characters here to be refreshingly true to their time, not the modern beings in fancy dress that have marred some Tudor fiction, and the novel to be well researched. I look forward to future forays into historical fiction by Ashley.

The King's Pleasure
Norah Lofts, Torc, 2006, £6.99, pb, 334pp, 0752439464

Originally published in 1969, this reissued novel by one of the grande dames of twentieth-century historical fiction tells the familiar story of Katharine of Aragon, spanning her childhood in Spain to her death as the cast-off wife of Henry VIII. Katharine's tale is told by a third-person narrator not only from Katherine's own perspective, but from those of other players in the drama of Henry's reign.

This is a novel that has held up remarkably well over time. Though it's slow moving on occasion, its leisurely pace allows us to savor the impressive gallery of characters. Lofts gives us information about the backgrounds of even the minor ones, so that they become much more than mere props supporting the lead protagonists, but interesting people in their own right. Henry, always a challenge for historical novelists, is not a cardboard villain but a complex man of many qualities. Katharine is admirable but maddeningly stubborn, taking the hard path where the easier one might have been better for all concerned. The interactions between all of these people feel absolutely authentic and natural, as in the scene toward the end of the novel where two of Katharine's attendants bicker as Katharine lies dying in the next room. And although the novel ends with Katharine's death, Lofts occasionally provides us glimpses into the future, adding to the book's richness.

This is a classic of the genre that should appeal both to those revisiting old favorites and to those just discovering the masters of the past.

Letters from Pemberley: The First Year
Jane Dawkins, Sourcebooks, 2007, $13.95/C$17.95/UK£7.99, pb, 213pp, 9781402209062

Having married Fitzwilliam Darcy and settled on his estate of Pemberley, a slightly homesick Elizabeth Bennet begins writing letters to her older sister, the newlywed Jane. With new acquaintances, Mr. Darcy's plans to remodel Pemberley (a task he takes on with much more sensitivity than Mr. Rushworth), and Georgiana's baffling onset of low spirits, Elizabeth finds herself with a great deal to write about.

Dawkins deliberately incorporates language, renamed characters, and situations from Austen's life and novels into Elizabeth's letters, providing some fun in recognition for sharp-eyed Janeites. Contemporary details, such as the fashions Elizabeth wears and the books she reads, are also worked in nicely. Otherwise, Letters is rather short in substance, Elizabeth settling into her roles as wife and mistress of Pemberley almost a little too easily. I found myself wishing at times that Mrs. Bennet would pay an extended visit just to stir up some trouble. All in all, though, Letters makes for a charming, quick read, especially for Jane Austen fans who need something to tide them over while waiting to re-read the originals.

Courting Trouble
Deeanne Gist, Bethany House, 2007, $13.99, pb, 332pp, 9780764202254

Outgoing, good-natured, and fond of elaborate hats and bicycle riding, Essie Spreckelmeyer is well-liked in her hometown but seriously short on suitors, an unwelcome state of affairs for a 30-year-old woman in 1890's Corsicana, Texas. In her usual forthright manner, the unconventional Essie decides to remedy the situation by picking a likely husband. Having assessed each candidate's good and bad points in writing, all that is left is to get her prospective spouse to agree to the arrangement.

Featuring a bust enhancer that doubles as a mouse catcher, a runaway snake, and Essie's adventures on the new "wheeled feet" her friend the peddler brings to town, Courting Trouble is delightfully humorous at times. There's a dark side to this novel too, however, as we see when a moment of recklessness threatens disaster for Essie and when Essie is on the verge of entering into a relationship that would stifle her individuality. Gist expertly blends these disparate elements and creates likeable yet flawed characters, resulting in a novel that's both highly entertaining and thought-provoking. I'm looking forward to seeing the sequel.

Louisiana's Song
Kerry Madden, Viking, 2007, $16.99/C$21.00, hb, 278pp, 9780670061532

In the spring of 1963, twelve-year-old Livy Two and her nine siblings eagerly await their father's return to the home they share in North Carolina's Great Smoky Mountains. But the Tom Weems who comes home from the hospital, where he has been recovering from a head injury received in a car accident, is not the man he used to be. He doesn't know that JFK is President, and although he hears music in his head, he can't remember that he himself is a musician—a gift he has passed down to Livy Two.

With Tom prone to wandering off, money getting tight, and Grandma Horace talking about moving the family off their beloved mountain to a nearby factory town, the Weems family is in need of all the help it can get. Livy tries to do her part, persuading her artistic but shy sister Louise (the "Louisiana" of the title) to draw portraits in nearby Waynesboro and barraging a Nashville music company with her songs.

The second book in a series of three, Louisiana's Song is narrated by Livy, an endearing, indomitable heroine, whose narrative voice is conversational and folksy without ever sounding contrived or artificial. The novel teems with wonderful, vivid characters, from the Weems family members to the bookmobile lady to Mathew the Mennonite. Even the family dog, Uncle Hazard, has a personality all of his own. Don't let the somewhat hackneyed title scare you off—Louisiana's Song is an original. Lively, funny, and moving, it's a novel that adults as well as young readers should enjoy.

The Case of Abraham Lincoln: A Story of Adultery, Murder and the Making of a Great President
Julie M. Fenster, Palgrave, 2007, $24.95/C$31.00, hb, 256pp, 9781403976352

In 1856, Springfield, Illinois is abuzz. One of its citizens, a prosperous blacksmith named George Anderson, has been murdered—and the suspects are Anderson’s wife and his young nephew, believed to have been carrying on a love affair in Anderson’s own house. Eventually, another citizen of Springfield will become involved in the Anderson murder case—a prominent lawyer and rising politician named Abraham Lincoln.

The Case of Abraham Lincoln has two main strands, the murder case in Springfield and Lincoln’s career as a lawyer and a politician. The strands intersect only peripherally until near the end of the book, when Lincoln joins the Anderson defense and plays a crucial, though undramatic, role in achieving an acquittal for the suspects.

Despite the subtitle, readers expecting a juicy tale of murder and adultery will be disappointed. Fenster’s main interest is in the procedural aspects of the case and in the lawyers on both sides, not in the suspects, who took their secrets, if they had any, to the grave. Those wanting to know more about Lincoln as a lawyer and about his role in 1850’s American party politics, however, will find this a welcome addition to their shelves.

Loves of Harriet Beecher Stowe
Philip McFarland, Grove, 2007, $26.00/C$32.50, hb, 320 pp, 9780802118455

As every American schoolchild knows, or ought to know, Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote Uncle Tom’s Cabin, the great anti-slavery novel. Few, including myself, know much more about her. Loves of Harriet Beecher Stowe undertakes to fill this gap.

McFarland looks not only at Stowe, but at her "loves" of the title—chiefly her family members, including Stowe's brother, the famed preacher Henry Ward Beecher, whose notorious adultery trial is given particular attention here. We also meet Stowe's good friend Lady Byron, whose posthumous reputation Stowe championed, resulting in controversy both in the United States and in England. Uncle Tom's Cabin and the sensation it caused are examined in depth, but Stowe's lesser known writings (one of which, Dred, garnered fulsome praise from George Eliot) are given their fair share of attention, as are her successful reading tours. In addition, McFarland examines Stowe's views on such diverse issues as spiritualism and women's rights, introducing us to people such as stockbroker, free-love advocate, and presidential candidate Victoria Woodhull (whom Stowe described succinctly as "this witch").

As a portrait not only of a fascinating woman but of a vibrant period in American history, Loves of Harriet Beecher Stowe is an illuminating read.

Search Terms, We've Got Search Terms!

From the hopper today:

i am locking for a sweet girl to be my wife

I do hope he meant "looking."

edward 1 was he an english justinian or a ruthless opressor?

That's what I like, an easy question.

tudor fiction

You mean people write novels about the Tudors? Next you'll be telling me that people write romances set in Regency England!

was henry james s writing influenced more by family members than others?

Just knowing that someone used this question to reach my website makes me feel ever so much smarter.

Yippee! Live on Amazon!

For all of you Amazon denizens out there, I'm pleased to say that Hugh and Bess: A Love Story can finally be ordered in paperback there! Look to the sidebar for a link to both the paperback and the newfangled Kindle versions.

A Happy 17th Birthday to my son today!

Monday Night Odds and Ends, and Books for Compliments

Tabitha over at iUniverse Book Reviews has posted a review with yours truly, complete with photograph. (Tabitha is having sort of a Edward II theme these days; Brandy Purdy's The Confession of Piers Gaveston is also reviewed on the blog.) If you're not one of the lucky denizens of Apex, North Carolina, this will be one of your few opportunities to see me in my spectacles, so stop on by! First two people who stop by my own blog and say, "Susan, you look adorable in your spectacles," will win a copy of The Traitor's Wife or Hugh and Bess--your choice--with a big red bow tied around it and a chicken scratch otherwise known as my autograph. Perfect for the holidays!

Speaking of which, a couple of people have wondered when Hugh and Bess will be live on Amazon. So have I! It may be a few more weeks, but I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, it can be ordered from Lulu (they deliver quickly) or from Amazon in a Kindle version if you've bought one of those newfangled devices. By the way, has anyone ordered one?

A Night at the Theater with Edward II

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, I got to see a performance of Marlowe's Edward II at Washington, D.C.'s Shakespeare Theatre Company. I'm not a theater critic and can't act my way out of a paper bag myself, so instead of a review per se, here are just a few thoughts on the Edward II production.

First (she said smugly), since I attended the play alone and therefore splurged on my ticket, I had a great seat--second row center, close enough to see the actors very well but just far enough away to avoid being spat on. The woman behind me told her companion that she had the best seat, but I think mine was better. So there.

The play was staged in 1920's dress. I rather like modern-dress productions of old plays if they're done well, and this one was. Isabella and Gaveston's wife, Margaret de Clare, looked very nice in their flapper outfits. Most of the men were dressed in military attire, except for Edward II and Gaveston. The 1920's setting also meant that guns were used on occasion: the unfortunate Spencer (Hugh le Despenser the younger) and Baldock were shot to death, although Gaveston and Mortimer were beheaded. The only jarring note was when the talk turned to religion; it was odd to have English people dressed in 1920's garb speak of the Pope's authority.

The play opened at Edward I's funeral, with the little Edward III and Isabella silently offering their condolences to Edward II. This was a nice touch, since the play closes at Edward II's funeral.

In the play, one of the barons' biggest complaints about Edward II is his fondness for masques and the like, and Gaveston's return was accordingly staged as a production number featuring men in skimpy outfits and in women's clothing, with Gaveston finally borne in wearing wings. (Spencer, as I recall, was in a yellow spangly number. If you're at Tewkesbury Abbey and hear rolling sounds coming from the real Hugh's tomb, that's probably why.)

I rather liked the actress who played Margaret de Clare, portrayed here as a squealing ingenue who assumes a priceless facial expression when rather late in the game, she finally realizes that there's something odd going on between Uncle Ned and her husband. It was also a good touch to have Margaret attending her uncle's funeral in the final scene.

I enjoyed the actor who played the Earl of Kent. I thought he did a good job of conveying Kent's hopelessly torn loyalties.

When Gaveston comes home from his second exile, there's a big sign reading, "Welcome Home Gaveston" onstage. I don't know why, but that gave me the giggles. I liked that sign.

Edward III is played by two actors; a young boy and a young man. Shortly before his crowning (and probably about the time of the boy actor's bedtime), Edward III's growing maturity is depicted by substituting the older actor for the younger one onstage. I thought that was clever on the part of the director, and also helped in showing the passage of time, which Marlowe compresses considerably.

Finally, Gaveston, having been executed, reappears several times in angel's wings to offer comfort to Edward, most importantly in the red-hot poker scene (where the wings also obscure the poker business). This could have been silly in the wrong hands, but it was quite moving, especially when Gaveston bears his friend's body offstage.

In short, I thoroughly enjoyed this play, which doesn't get produced in the US that often outside of the largest cities. It's playing through January 6, so if you're in the DC area (or can get there), check it out!

Katherine Woodville: Cradle-Robber?

OK, OK, I admit it, having been on a research binge lately, I've been slacking off in the blog department. So I'm posting this both here and on the Unromantic Richard III blog.

As I mentioned earlier, I’ve been working on a novel about Katherine Woodville, wife of Henry Stafford, the Duke of Buckingham who was Richard III’s ally and then his enemy. I do most of my research in the library, but I do a fair amount of Googling also to see if any leads turn up online.

In doing so, I was perturbed to find this Wikipedia entry about the Duke of Buckingham, in which it’s confidently stated that the young duke was forced to marry Katherine when he was 12 and she was 24, thereby causing Buckingham to resent the entire Woodville clan. Wikipedia, fortunately, can be corrected, but several Ricardian sites and publications, like this one (scroll down to the sentence past the reference to note 25), repeat the same story. It brings to mind a rather unpleasant picture of Katherine, no doubt with the grinning approval of Nasty Elizabeth, sending her little husband to bed without his supper if he refused to let her have her way with him.

Fortunately for Katherine (and the Duke), the story, at least as far as Katherine’s age goes, is, like so many other anti-Woodville stories, utter nonsense. Katherine’s marriage to Buckingham was indeed arranged when Buckingham was a royal ward, and Buckingham, like any other royal ward, didn’t have a say in the matter. But Katherine, far from being in her 20’s at the time, was younger than her husband when the couple married, sometime between September 1464, when Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville’s secret marriage was disclosed, and May 1465, when Henry Stafford and Katherine attended the queen’s coronation, where they are named as the Duke and the younger Duchess of Buckingham. (The elder Duchess, Henry Stafford’s grandmother, was also present at the coronation.)

Katherine’s age is given in a 1492 post-mortem inquisition of her brother, Richard, where she is described as “aged 34 or more.” This puts Katherine’s birthdate at around 1458, making her a child of around seven at the time of her marriage. Henry Stafford, born on September 4, 1455, would have been only nine at the time of the coronation. (Brad Verity, who kindly brought the IPM and other Woodville genealogical information to my attention, has posted about this and other Woodville genealogical matters here.)

Of course, IPMs are not infallible. Katherine’s youth at her marriage, however, is attested by two other primary sources. First, a detailed account of Elizabeth Woodville’s coronation exists, in which the major participants and the roles they played are listed. As mentioned earlier, both the Duke of Buckingham and his Duchess were present, and both are mentioned as being carried upon squires’ shoulders. No other duke or duchess was given similar treatment, so it’s safe to assume (in the absence of evidence that either or both parties sprained their ankles immediately before the coronation) that the Buckinghams were carried because they were children, presumably so they could see and be seen and/or so they wouldn’t tire out during the lengthy ceremony, dressed as they were in heavy ceremonial robes. (No mention is made of how the squires fared; one hopes for their sakes that the duke and duchess weren’t hefty youngsters.)

Katherine also appears in her sister Elizabeth’s household records for 1466-67, where payments were given to three people for attending upon her. Similar payments were made for the Duke of Buckingham and his younger brother, Humphrey, who were in Elizabeth’s care at the time. It seems apparent that Katherine, like her young husband and brother-in-law, was being brought up in her sister’s household.

So while it’s possible that Henry may have come to resent his marriage because he was his wife’s social superior (though it’s far more likely that his resentment arose because he was never given an active role to play in Edward IV’s reign), it’s certainly not the case that his wife was an older woman scheming with her sister the queen to exploit her wealthy little husband. She was a mere child, with no more control over her marriage than her young husband had over his.

Katherine’s second and third marriages, however, did involve large age gaps; perhaps it is the third marriage that has led to the misinformation about her first. Katherine's second husband was none other than Jasper Tudor, uncle to Henry VII; the match was made by November 7, 1485. Tudor was 55, over twice the age of the 27-year-old Katherine. The benefit to both parties seems to have been purely material: Katherine got the jointure and dower she had been denied in Richard III’s reign due to Buckingham’s treason and execution; Jasper got a wealthy, landed bride.

Jasper died on December 21, 1495. Just over eight weeks later, Katherine remarried without a license, thereby following the grand tradition of runaway matches made by her mother and her sister Elizabeth. Her third husband, Richard Wingfield, was twelve years younger than Katherine; he was the eleventh son out of twelve and presumably had very limited material assets, so it was likely his personal charms that appealed to the newly widowed Katherine. A mere squire at the time, Richard may have been a member of Katherine’s household. (After coming into his inheritance, Katherine’s eldest son by Buckingham, Edward Stafford, eventually ended up having to pay the fine for his mother’s unsanctioned third marriage, much to his disgust.)

Katherine and Richard’s short-lived marriage—Katherine died in 1497—-probably paved the way to Richard’s eventual success in Henry VIII’s court. Wingfield remarried and had children by his second wife, but did not forget Katherine, directing in his will that prayers be said for her soul. Dying on an embassy to Toledo in 1525, he was undoubtedly fortunate to miss the later downfall of Cardinal Wolsey, to whom he attributed his own success at court.

Booking Through Thursday: Writing in Books

From Booking Through Thursday:

Today’s question comes from Conspiracy-Girl:
I’m still relatively new to this meme so I’m not sure if this has been asked yet, but I’m curious how many of us write notes in our books. Are you a Footprint Leaver or a Preservationist?

I was going to write that I never write in a book when I remembered that when I was in law school, I did indeed highlight and occasionally jot notes in the margins of my textbooks. But that's the only time I've ever written in a book. I like my books clean, crisp, and unmarked, thank you very much.

The law school books I wrote in, of course, were my own property. People who write in library books or in school textbooks that get handed down year after year should suffer the full rigors of a medieval traitor's death. And that fate may well be too good for them.

Book Sale Musings

I'm back from helping set up the tables for our county library system's annual book sale (over 500,000 books were on sale last year, and I'd be surprised if the amount was not the same this year), and I'm knackered, as my transatlantic friends would say. Flinging around 50-pound boxes full of old copies of The Thorn Birds is hard work, let me tell you!

As I said last year, I do this not only because I'm civic-minded, but because of the Big Perk for volunteers: cheap books and the pick of the litter. I came home with 20 books today, and no doubt I'll find something to carry home tomorrow.

Because today was a school holiday, I took my son with me, which allowed me to say things aloud like, "Wonderful, another copy of The Da Vinci Code," and "Where are all of the Jean Plaidys?" without being thought too flamingly eccentric. Anyway, in no particular logical order, here are a few thoughts I saved for this blog:

I saw at least one ex-library copy of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell on almost every table for which I unboxed books. All looked in excellent, unread condition, which either means that we in Wake County, North Carolina have no taste for literary historical fiction or just that the library thought we loved literary historical fiction so much that they ordered 30 copies too many.

When lining up books on adjacent tables and having to find a book that won't slip through the crack between tables, nothing works better than a James Michener or a Colleen Mccullough novel.

Had I wanted to, I could have come home with a nearly complete set of the works of Bernard Cornwell. I really should try one, since there are so many of his books.

Last year, I saw dozens of nonfiction books on Princess Diana. This year I saw only about five.

In the biography section, I found a Henry V biography nestled qutie cozily next to one of Richard III. Sadly, nothing appeared on Henry VI or Henry VII. Henry VIII and his wives, however, were more than adequately represented and accounted for a generous part of my own purchases.

In the sorting room at the library, there needs to be a sign stating, "The Autobiography of Henry VIII by Margaret George is not nonfiction."

Toward the end of my day, I did duty over at the dreaded "Unsorted" tables, where everything that was donated or discarded too late is lumped together (children's board books and Karl Marx shared the table I unpacked). I found Caroline Weber's What Marie Antoinette Wore to the Revolution over there and took it in the history section, thinking there it might find a happier home there than amid the Silhouette romance novels it was resting near. Then I remembered that I had paid the full cover price for the hardback and kicked myself.

If you donate a 2004 guide to picking a college to the library in 2007, the library sale volunteers are not going to be leaping over tables and pushing each other aside to claim it for their own. Trust me on this one.

Children's books are unwieldy, slippery, nonuniform in size, and quite difficult to arrange neatly in rows on tables. The already curmudgeonly should avoid the juvenile section.

My new books will probably have to go on the shelves in the garage. If I did not have so many books in the garage, I could quite possibly be like my neighbors and keep my car in there. But do I really want to do this?

Nah.

Pets in Historical Fiction

Taking Boswell to the vet today (itching, poor doggie) made me think of some comments that appeared here about Sharon Penman's novel When Christ and His Saints Slept. Penman, as anyone who's read her books knows, is fond of giving her heroes dogs. The fictional Ranulf in Saints and its sequel, Time and Chance, has a faithful canine companion. So, of course, does Richard in The Sunne in Splendour, a guarantee in itself that he's a good guy. (Indeed, it's clear that Buckingham is a villain; not only does he kill the princes in the Tower, he kills the younger one's dog as well.)

I've been trying to think of some other historical novels in which pets play a big part. I just finished The Captive Queen of Scots, where Mary's poor little Skye terrier has his famous scene of hiding under the headless Mary's skirts, but other than that one scene, he doesn't appear much in the novel. Dickens's historical novel Barnaby Rudge features a raven, Grip, who plays a major role. (Indeed, I found him vastly preferable to most of the human characters, this not being my favorite Dickens novel.) In Michelle Moran's recent Nefertiti, the heroine Mutny's cat was a leading, and quite memorable, character. Barbara Hambly's The Emancipator's Wife has some endearing scenes with Lincoln and his cats. I'm sure there are others that I just can't think of at the moment.

When authors do give their heroes and heroines cherished pets, it's a device that humanizes them wonderfully. Writing this post made me think of a lovely passage from Charlotte Brontë's Shirley, where the friends Caroline and Shirley broach the delicate subject of Caroline's romantic interest in a young man:

'If they are true oracles, it is good never to fall in love.'

'Very good, if you can avoid it.'

'I choose to doubt their truth.'

'I am afraid that proves you are already caught.'

'Not I: but if I were, do you know what soothsayers I would consult?'

'Let me hear.'

'Neither man nor woman, elderly nor young : - the little Irish beggar that comes barefoot to my door; the mouse that steals out of the cranny in the wainscot; the bird that in frost and snow pecks at my window for a crumb; the dog that licks my hand and sits beside my knee.'

'Did you ever see any one who was kind to such things?'

'Did you ever see any one whom such things seemed instinctively to follow, like, rely on?'

'We have a black cat and an old dog at the Rectory. I know somebody to whose knee that black cat loves to climb; against whose shoulder and cheek it likes to purr. The old dog always comes out of his kennel and wags his tail, and whines affectionately when somebody passes.'

'And what does that somebody do?'

'He quietly strokes the cat, and lets her sit while he conveniently can, and when he must disturb her by rising, he puts her softly down, and never flings her from him roughly; he always whistles to the dog and gives him a caress.'

'Does he? It is not Robert?'

'But it is Robert.'

(Online version by the University of Adelaide here)

Now, wouldn't you like Robert, even if you hadn't met him earlier in this novel?

Is there a novel--historical or otherwise--that's been improved for you by the protagonist's pet?

Well, is she?

In checking my website's keyword listings, I came across this query:

queen isabella is she a molly

I am almost certain that she is not. But input from blog readers will be gladly welcomed.

On an entirely unrelated note, my hands are no longer shaking and trembling, because after a lengthy withdrawal, I have access to the online Oxford Dictionary of National Biography once more! Having logged on Friday, I made up for lost time by printing out as many biographies as possible. I feel much better now, thank you. (Even if you're not a subscriber, you can still visit the site to see the biography of the day.)