The Tudors didn’t destroy Richard’s reputation – he did that himself!

Posted on January 29, 2017January 29, 2017 By Gareth - Editor

People have been asking me recently what I think about historical fiction. I assume what they mean by that is ‘how much does it matter whether fiction based on history actually follows the facts.’

And my answer? Not much. Personally, I much prefer fiction that sticks as closely to the available facts as possible while adding some snap, crackle and pop where it’s needed. Philippa Gregory and last year’s ‘Victoria’ series just about got it right for me. But ultimately if something is labelled fiction than that’s exactly how it should be treated. Readers and watchers should not assume they are getting the factual truth and if they do, that is not the fault of novelists or TV producers.

But there is a genre of history that worries me much more. The 1 hour documentary. I understand – and accept – that things need to be simplified for TV. I recognise that there has to be different entry points for varying levels of knowledge and interest and many of my curiosities were sparked through this very medium. However, I am getting a little fed up with the huge oversimplifications that have been transmitted through our TV screens in the last year or so which make a big impact on popular understandings of the historic debate.

Lucy Worsley’s ‘History’s Biggest Fibs’ got me a bit riled on Thursday night. While I did really enjoy much of it, the assertion that the ‘Wars of the Roses’ was a Tudor myth and that Richard III’s name was blackened by his successors, drove me crazy.

I’ve blogged previously about the Wars of the Roses, but can I please just but in a plea for sanity when it comes to the accusation that the Tudors led some kind of deliberate propaganda campaign to tarnish the previously saintly reputation of the last Plantagenet King.

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Of course Tudor writers would have been mindful of the need to please the new dynasty and this would have been reflected in their writing. As Worsley notes, John Rouse’s work is a perfect example of this – he was complimentary about Richard in his life time but negative about him once Henry Tudor came to power.

However we now know that things once believed to be a Tudor invention have turned out to be true. Richard’s curved spine, so often dismissed as Tudor spin has been established as fact.

The account of Dominic Mancini – dated 1483, two years before the Tudors took over – makes it clear that people strongly suspected Richard in his own lifetime of usurping the throne and doing away with the Princes.

Of course Richard’s reputation suffered under his successors. Things rooted in truth were exaggerated and he was not treated with a sense of balance and objectivity. But the beginnings of his huge unpopularity and the link to the crimes many hold him responsible for, can clearly be found in his own reign and lifetime.

5 books on my New Year reading list

Posted on January 4, 2017January 4, 2017 By Gareth - Editor

I begin 2017 with a confession – I’m well behind on my reading. Strikingly, shockingly and chronically behind. For anyone this is bad. For someone who has made it his business to keep on top of the latest offerings from popular historians, it’s an absolute disaster.

I’ve got some catching up to do. So for the first part of 2017, whenever I’m not working, writing or trying to lose a little of the Christmas weight, you’ll find me with my nose in a book (or at least my kindle). Part of the fun is that I don’t know yet exactly what my reading list will look like. There are however 5 books – not necessarily new – that I simply must read sooner rather than later. I thought I’d share those with you.

Image result for Game of Thrones by Sarah Gristwood

Game of Queens by Sarah Gristwood – This ambitious books claims to capture the lives of the powerful women of the 16^th century. There’s been much debate in recent years as to whether modern, feminist writers are giving too much attention to women from this period, but I for one am enjoying seeing this long-term inbalance corrected. Gristwood’s ‘Blood Sisters’ which charted the collective lives of the women at the heart of the Wars of the Roses was one of the most readable history books I have ever thumbed my way through so I have high hopes for her new offering.

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The Lives of Tudor Women by Elizabeth Norton– I was first introduced to Norton’s stimulating style through her biography of Margaret Beaufort and I’m intrigued as to how she has tackled the task of exploring ‘the seven ages of the Tudor woman, from childhood to old age.’ As I said above, the lives of powerful 16^th century woman have finally started to capture the public’s imagination. This book, as I understand it, will explore the stories of some lesser known characters and provide a rich tapestry of cultural context. If so, then it’s a book I will enjoy.

Image result for Elizabeth: The Forgotten Years by John Guy

Elizabeth: The Forgotten Years by John Guy – Strangely, my knowledge of Elizabeth I is shockingly limited and what I do know tends to centre around a few dramatic episodes – upbringing, love life and her dealings with that pesky Queen of Scots. I’ve been keen for a while to get under the skin of the politics of her reign, particularly the latter half and when I saw a review of this book on the Guardian website I knew it would be added to the reading list. I know little of the writer so it’s something of a shot in the dark – but come on, geeks; experimenting is all part of the fun.

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Magna Carta by Dan Jones – Okay, okay I know this book is nowhere near ‘new’ – but I never said that only newish books had a place on this list. Dan Jones’s offering was originally published in 2014 and despite the ‘Magna Carter’ fever that dominated 2015, I just didn’t have time to read it. However, I thoroughly enjoyed ‘the Hollow Crown’ (and found ‘the Plantagenets useful) so it was always inevitable that I would one day dust off the cover of the book in question and give it the once over. 2017 will be its lucky year.

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Anne Boleyn, A King’s Obsession by Alison Weir – Hot on the heels of the first book in her ‘Six Wives’ novel series last year, the Queen of history, Alison Weir has been teasing her facebook friends with the twists and turns that she took when writing her fictional account of Anne Boleyn’s life. Given Weir’s experience and expertise there is no real doubt as to the quality and historical reliability of this eagerly-awaited book, expected to hit shelves in May. But there is much anticipation as to what we might learn. The author herself has admitted that writing fiction gives her greater freedom to explore theories and suggestions that have no place in a history book but are nonetheless a valid contribution to the debate. With most of Anne’s letters lost to us, her inner thoughts can only largely be guessed at. Weir’s informed portrayal of who Anne truly was as a person will be one that many are waiting for.

Anyway, all five books shall be duly reviewed on this site. But until then…let me know what is on YOUR reading lists for 2017 geeks!

When was Margaret Beaufort born and why does it matter so much?

Posted on December 24, 2016December 24, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

(c) Christ’s College, University of Cambridge; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

The Tudor era can boast a plethora of family feuding, crimes of passion, collections of tragedy and acts of cruelty that would stretch the imaginations of even today’s most far-fetched soap opera writers.

And of course, Tudor addicts like me, will know that the founding of the Royal dynasty begins with one savage, selfish and almost unforgivable act of cruelty. That of a pre-teen child bride being forced into marriage with a man twice her age and exposed to sexual intercourse and the dangers of child birth long before her body, let alone her mind, was ready for either.

Margaret Beaufort fascinates me. I have spent more time trying to stitch the fragments of her life together than I have any other member of history’s royalty. And that’s why, as I have trawled through some of her earlier biographies, I have been fascinated to find that many have underplayed the trauma of her early years by making a simple but significant error, calculating her birth date at 1441 rather than the correct 1443.

Why does this matter? Because it, in part, dilutes the tragedy. If born in 1441 than Margaret fell pregnant at 14 and gave birth at 15. Still far too young of course – but it would have meant both her body and mind would have enjoyed two extra years of development and by the standards of the day, this would have been far more socially acceptable.

The origins of the error are fairly simple and apparently arise from misinterpreting evidence given at the inquest of her father’s death. However, a much stronger case can be made for a 1443 birth date; in that year her father – preparing to go off on a military adventure – was negotiating the future of his unborn child should anything happen to him. Further to this a book of hours from the family has been discovered that states her birth clearly as 1443.

But there is another piece of evidence which, despite rarely cropping up in the debate, actually makes the case for a 1443 birth almost watertight.

In his funeral sermon of the venerable Lady, her long-time friend and confessor Bishop Fisher makes it clear that she gave birth ‘before she was 14 years of age.’

Surely, I hear you ask, this could just be a miscalculation? No, it can’t be.

By saying ‘not yet 14’ Fisher is not just making a passing comment on her age. In fact, were she 14 or over he probably wouldn’t have mentioned it.

Fourteen was the closest thing that this era had to an age of consent. Sex was just about permissible at 12 but few thought it appropriate before the age of 14. Sometimes, this proviso was even written in to marriage contracts.

By saying that she was ‘not yet 14 years of age’ Fisher is acknowledging – subtly and tactfully of course – the early tragedy that befell her. That a man had violated her before an age at which it was appropriate. That everything that followed – her ensuring her son’s early safety and fighting for continual advancement – shows her incredible strength of character by being able to overcome this early tragedy.

Recent students of Margaret Beaufort cannot help be amazed at how she survived and recovered from such a horrible early experience. It would seem, from Fisher’s comments, that contempories also had a sense of it. No wonder that respective for this great lady, was almost universal.

I’m not sure we needed another ‘Six wives’ series – but some of the critics can do one!

Posted on December 8, 2016December 8, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

I’ll admit, I was unsure as to whether we REALLY needed another series of the sixth wives of Henry VIII. Not only did we have one earlier this year but there’s several easy to read popular history books on the subject not to mention countless novels. Children even study it in school. Couldn’t we have delved into something else?

But even I was very disappointed to see such a sarcastic and bitchy review by Joel Golby in the Guardian of last night’s ‘Six Wives’ with Lucy Worsley on BBC 1, which was described as ‘awful’ and ‘tedious’. Even after reading it several times, I wasn’t exactly clear what the criticism was.

I’m not quite sure if Golby is saying that a) the story of Catherine of Aragon just isn’t interesting so no one should try and make it so, or that b) it is interesting therefore the dramatic antics of the presenter were unnecessary.

Either way it’s a criticism that makes little sense. How can anyone really fail to acknowledge the voyeuristic appeal of the marriage antics of England’s most powerful ruler? Yes, ultra-geeks like me would like to see other topics explored, but I recognise the reason we hear so much about this subject is because of its widespread popularity. And in my opinion, having Worsley pop up as a commentating cast member was a fresh and novel approach – I liked it.

So enough of the sarcasm thank you Mr Golby.

Last night, I watched the programme with an open mind. I’m still not sure it was the right choice of topic, but I will say this for it:

I enjoyed it. As I said above the approach was novel.
There were a few things I hadn’t considered before; the emphasis on Catherine’s first pregnancy being essentially a phantom is one that I hadn’t dwelt on before and I will be checking the history books to see how big a deal it was.
It got people talking. I was involved in several conversations on Twitter last night – and during today – about the show. People liked it and there’s clearly an audience for it.

Geeks like me are always going to want to go to the next levels, to greater depth. But for as long as there’s an audience for the Six Wives of Henry VIII, TV producers have every right to keep pumping out the content.

I’ll be watching next week.

Were Mary Tudor and Charles Brandon really a love match?

Posted on November 23, 2016November 23, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

As those of you who like nothing more than checking out my ‘book review’ section will know, I’ve recently digested Sarah-Beth Watkin’s new offering on Mary ‘the French Queen’ Tudor and her controversial husband, Charles Brandon. It got me thinking about a question I’ve been pondering on and off since Henry ‘Clark Kent’ Cavil first caught the world’s eye in the great drama/questionable history series ‘the Tudors’: were the couple truly a love match?

For some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that the fact the marriage was so controversial, somewhat distorts discussion on this subject. It should never have taken place at all: therefore,the argument goes, it must have been a union of passion. To add to the mix, Charles made up in sex appeal what he lacked in status and Mary was the royal beauty of her generation; is it any wonder they fell head over heels for each other?

But I’m not convinced. Charles of course was not faithful to Mary. While by the standards of the day this can hardly be counted against him it still has to raise questions for those who want to view their relationship through rose tinted glasses.

And when they married, Mary was a desperate woman. She had hated being married to the decrepit and aged French King and knew full well that her brother would break his promise to let her wed who she chose second time around. Did she rush to marry Charles the second he arrived in France to collect her because he was her long cherished desire? Or was he simply her nearest get out of jail free card?

Charles, similarly, had motives other then those of the heart that must be considered. He was a classic late-medieval ‘man on the make’ who had treated women appallingly in the past for his own financial betterment. Mary may not have brought him much in terms of cash – but marriage to the King’s sister would advance him hugely and give his children by her a claim to the throne. The fact she was affable and attractive might just have been a bonus.

Perhaps I’m being too cynical. There almost certainly were feelings involved on both sides. But the observations that their life together was never particularly happy and that Charles remarried with indecent haste after Mary’s death should give us pause before concluding that their rushed marriage was a crime of nothing but passion.

The couple certainly needed each other. But head, rather than heart, was probably what determined their actions.

Book review: The Tudor Brandons by Sarah-Beth Watkins

Posted on November 22, 2016November 22, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

The Tudor Brandons: Mary and Charles - Henry VIII's Nearest & Dearest by [Watkins, Sarah-Beth]

Ever since becoming a super-cool Tudor fan (which as you can imagine was some time ago) I’ve had quite a few questions about the King’s friend Charles Brandon and his royal bride Mary Tudor. Where does Charles suddenly spring from? What was Mary’s early life like? How well did they know each other before their elicit marriage? Why on earth was Mary called ‘Margaret’ in the TV series, ‘The Tudors’?

‘The Tudor Brandons’ by Sarah-Beth Watkins answers many of the above. A light and readable publication, this new book charts the recent history of the Brandons and details Mary’s upbringing and time in France before allowing the reader to share in their intertwined story as the ‘nearest and dearest’ of Henry VIII.

Sticking faithfully to the extensive source material available, the author creates an opportunity to explore the character of Henry VIII’s favourite sister, with the mutual affection between the royal siblings being both evident and charming. The contrast between her search for happiness and her husband’s quest for wealth and power – typical of a late-medieval ‘man on the make’ – sheds insight into their relationship.

And of course, the story of Mary and Charles is one that cannot end with them; this book also recounts how their descendants were to have a significant impact on the politics of the future.

Stylistically, this book is likely to divide opinion. Purists will love that the sources are laid bare without much interference from the author’s interpretation; romantics will miss the lack of speculation around thoughts and inner feelings that are ultimately forever lost to us.

While pleasing to a true geek like me, the frequency with which the primary sources are extensively quoted significantly slows down the pace of the story telling (perhaps an appendix featuring all of Mary’s letters might have been better). But this is a minor criticism compared to the overall readability and accessibility of the book.

‘The Tudor Brandons’ is the first book by Sarah-Beth Watkins that I have ever read; I very much doubt it will be the last. For any Tudor fan fascinated by these two characters, who for too long have been footnotes in the stories of others, this book is an essential read.

The Tudor Brandons, by Sarah Beth Watkins is published by Chronos Books and is available on Amazon from £9.98

Which of his wives, was Henry VIII actually in love with?

Posted on November 21, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

This week we’re going to have a post about the Henry VIII era every day. If I haven’t said it before, let me say it again – we are super cool people!

Want to kick it off with some #QuickFireThoughts on which of his wives Henry VIII was actually in love with. It’s one of those fairly meaningless questions which can’t be proved wrong or right either way – but hopefully you’re getting the gist of this blog by now.

Of course, ‘love’ is a subjective term at the best of times. It’s not 100% clear what it means to us today, let alone how we decipher it against the backdrop of the Tudor marriage market and different expectations about fidelity on the part of the husband. But ultimately love is timeless. What we’re looking for in this post, are indications of Henry’s passion and commitment to his respective spouse; feelings driven more from the heart than a logical pragmatism and a passion that was deeper than physical.

Let’s go.

Katherine of Aragon – He was certainly enthusiastic about marrying her and treated her (in public) fairly well to start with. But there were probably other motives. He was keen for the alliance with Spain (of which her father was effectively King) and wanted to appear like a man rather than a boy. A prestigious wife helped with that. Alison Weir argues that Henry’s ‘love’ for Catherine was never really passion. I think she is probably right. As I’ve argued in another post, Henry was probably unfaithful to Katherine within a year of their marriage.
Anne Boleyn – Surely this is a no-brainer? I guess you could argue it was infatuation rather than love but I think that’s splitting hairs. I also don’t think the violent reversal in his feeling suggests it was never love to start with and that, in part, may have been fuelled by feelings of betrayal. Yep, with Anne it was love; heart and soul. Until it became hate.
Jane Seymour – Hmm…tricky one. She was in the right place at the right time and being the polar opposite of Anne certainly helped. And who knows what would have happened had she lived. But we have to go on what we have – and remember that no love is without questionable motives. She was the Queen that he always mourned and remembered. As Roxette might say, “it must have been love.”
Anne of Cleaves – Actually I have an unusual but credible theory on this. There is newly discovered evidence that – ah sorry, can’t keep this up! No. Just, no!
Catherine Howard – Perhaps the trickiest one of all. But I’m going for no. I think it was lust. He was hurt by her betrayal but I’m not sure the feelings ran deep. But I am prepared to be out-argued on this one…
Katherine Parr – He admired her. Respected her. Cared for her. But it’s difficult to see that a flame was burning. During her time, he still lauded the memory of Jane – but then she had given Henry his only son. It’s a toss up, but I’m going to land on ‘no.’

And now…over to you geeks. Have I underestimated his feelings for Catherine Howard? Were his feelings for his first wife genuine love that faded with time? Were his lasting affections for Jane entirely rooted to the fact that she had delivered a son? I want to know what you think!

Book Review: Mary Boleyn by Alison Weir

Posted on September 23, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

When I first turned the opening pages of Alison Weir’s 2009 biography of Mary Boleyn I have to confess to feeling a little nervous. Mary, whatever her virtues, is essentially a footnote in history. Promoting a footnote to a main character can be troublesome.

Like most Tudor fans, I’d been more than a little appalled by ‘The Other Boleyn Girl’ (only seen the film, sure the book is much better) and incredulous as to how it had warped many of my friend’s understanding of the era. Would this biography risk doing the same?

But of course, with Alison Weir at the helm, it was a question I never should have asked.

From her early years in England to her time at the French court, Weir sheds light on the upbringing of a woman who – while perhaps never a major player – was witness to some of the most extraordinary events of her time. As a mistress to the Kings of both France and England, Mary’s reputation has suffered much over the centuries, but the author’s ability to set the events in context and divorce fact from rumour, gives the elder Boleyn sister something of a reprieve, at least in the eyes of a modern reader.

There is of course, much about her life that we can never know and many periods where no one saw fit to chronicle her activities. Even her date of birth remains a mystery, but with Weir’s rare ability to combine robust research with intelligent inference based on surrounding and circumstantial information, we come as close as we are ever likely to, to discovering the true character and personality of a woman condemned to history as a ‘great and infamous whore.’

While the book’s chapters are on the long side, the fascinating sense of storytelling makes it a page turner. I am slow reader but had polished it off in just a few sessions. Complete with a summary of the rise of the Boleyns and Henry VIII’s early extra-marital antics the book provides a different perspective of the 1520s and 30s which further illuminates our understanding of those who were at the heart of them.

I am a big fan of historical fiction and delight in the fact that my obscure interests occasionally become mainstream, but as far as I’m concerned, it should be made compulsory that anyone who has ever watched ‘The Other Bolyen Girl’ should quickly follow up the experience with a read of Weir’s biography. It’s just as entertaining and helps unearth, rather than distort, one of the most fascinating episodes of England’s history.

Mary Boleyn: ‘The Great and Infamous Whore’ by Alison Weir is published by Vintage and available on Amazon from £9.99

Wildcard: Did Margaret Beaufort protect the virginity of a teenage Katherine?

Posted on September 16, 2016September 16, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

A #WildCard post is an opportunity to have fun by testing theories that there is no actual historical evidence for, but nonetheless are enjoyable to think about. They should be taken with more than a pinch of salt and even the authors themselves do not necessarily agree with them.

Previously I’ve written about the likelihood of Katherine of Aragon emerging from her first marriage ‘untouched by man’. Weighing up the evidence available, I concluded that when she wed Henry VIII, she did so with virginity intact.

As I drafted the piece a thought struck me. A thought backed up by absolutely no evidence, but one I think worthy of a #WildCard’.

When Prince Arthur died, there was a gap of six months before his brother Henry’s creation as Prince of Wales. Ostensibly, this was in order to be sure that Katherine was not pregnant with Arthur’s child who would have taken precedence in the succession, even if born posthumously. However, despite this formality, the powers that be seemed relatively content that the marriage had never been consummated. Indeed, it is said that Henry VII only agreed to the second marriage on that premise.

This got me thinking. Why was Henry VII so confident that his son had never fully performed his marital duties? Teenage sex was not always encouraged in Tudor times but there was a general expectation the couple would at least consummate the union. Katherine’s senior Spanish lady-in-waiting had testified to a lack of activity – but would that really have been enough for the ever paranoid and habitually suspicious Henry?

I think not.

Henry VII was paranoid by nature and his paranoia was not without a foundation in logic. The Tudor dynasty hung by a thread – or at least, it felt like it did. If the King married the widowed Katherine to his second son and the marriage was later questioned, it could place his future heirs in great jeopardy. True, there may have been Papal dispensation for the marriage regardless of the circumstances, but as later events showed, if the political climate was right, this could be done away with.

Instead it seems more likely that Henry VII would not have agreed to the marriage unless he had a cast iron guarantee that the deed was not done.

Could it be that Prince Arthur, despite his lusty brags to his friends, had never intended to consummate his marriage in his early years? Could it be that he was actually under instruction not to?

History is full of things we don’t know, but for a moment, let’s stand back and look at some of the things that we do.

Sex in this time was seen as potentially dangerous for young people. We know that Henry was paranoid about losing his heir. We also know that in domestic matters, the King listened and acted on the advice of his mother.

Lady Margaret Beaufort is famous in history for her status as a child bride. Married at 12 to a man twice her age, she gave birth to her only child when she was only just a teenager. A lack of later issue despite two further marriages suggests that this scared her physically; other evidence leads us to believe that it scared her emotionally.

When her granddaughter and namesake was pledged to be married to the Scottish King, her heart went out to her. Not naïve to the importance of political manoeuvrings and dynastic alliances, Margaret would have supported the match, but she pleaded with her son not to dispatch her north of the boarder too early, reminding him that the Scots King ‘would not wait and harm her.’

Is it possible that she intervened again? Had this woman of great compassion and maternal instinct taken pity on her future granddaughter-in-law even before she met her?

The circumstances were not the same. The marriage of both Margarets had been to much older men. Katherine and Arthur were similar in age, but nonetheless it deserves thinking about.

Margaret, I am confident, would not have broached the subject directly with Arthur. I don’t know much about their relationship, but it would have hardly been a conversation that would dignify the King’s Mother. Instead, it is more logical to suspect a conversation took place between the great matriarch, her son and Elizabeth of York. Perhaps the King himself then broached the subject with his heir-apparent and it was this conversation, and subsequent ones, that gave the King confidence that the marriage was one of legal union alone.

Let me reiterate, there is no evidence for this – but that’s part of the fun of the #WildCard posts.

Was Edward IV a usurper?

Posted on September 15, 2016September 15, 2016 By Gareth - Editor

Image result for edward iv

I stumbled across something interesting the other day. For some reason, I was checking out the Wikipedia entry on ‘usurpers of the English throne’ (we’ve all done it) and discovered that it features a list of those who had seized the crown. As you can imagine, it was an exciting moment!

But it was also a moment that triggered a surge of indignation in my usually placid personality. For while Henry IV, the first Lancastrian King had made his way onto the list, Edward IV of the House of York was strangely absent.

Before this spirals into a whole Lancaster vs York partisan thing, let me be clear: I fully accept that Henry IV deserves his place on the list. Even though his bid to seize the throne was initially fairly popular and despite propagandist claims that his cousin Richard II ‘agreed’ to the new arrangement, there can be no doubt that Henry of Bolingbroke was a usurper. Richard II was clearly forced off the throne and even if he had died or surrendered it willingly, there was arguably another with a better claim.

But excluding Edward IV, who seized the throne from the Lancastrians in 1461, really got my goat.

Although the authors of the page do not present a reason for their spurious (yes, I said it – spurious) decision, it’s not hard to guess where they’re coming from. While Henry Bolingbroke – as the eldest son of Edward III’s third son – was the heir male of his grandfather (or at least, he was after Richard II had actually died), the house of York descended in the female line from Lionel of Antwerp (Edward’s second son), making Edward IV the heir general of his namesake. Most historians now believe this gave York a superior claim to the throne. No doubt the Wikipedia entry does therefore not list the first York King as a usurper because they view it as a restoration of the true blood line.

But this doesn’t stack up.

To start with, back in 1399, when Henry IV was crowned, there was genuine confusion as to whether someone could base their claim to the throne through descent in the female line. Obviously this had become fairly meaningless by the end of the War of the Roses when even the best Lancastrian claimant (Henry Tudor) was basing his right to the crown on his mother’s lineage. But for as long as the male-line Lancastrian wing existed, they had a right which could well have been viewed as superior.

The real reason actually goes much deeper. Regardless of the ‘who had the better claim’ debate, the truth was that by 1461, the house of Lancaster was an established dynasty. The crown had passed seamlessly from the first Lancastrian King to his son who reigned so successfully that his infant boy inherited without challenge. Not only had Henry VI inherited the crown smoothly enough, he had held it for the first 40 years of his reign without anyone questioning it. When Edward IV managed to get his hands on power, Parliament had only recently re-asserted Henry’s right to it, albeit at the cost of disinheriting his son.

To take the throne, Edward IV had to seize it by force. Both law and the establishment were initially against him. In my book, this is the very definition of usurption and, to be frank, it should be in anybody’s. Perhaps the Wikipedia community could take a little look at this post and snap into edit mode.

(Editor’s note: What really makes my blood boil is that Richard III is also excluded from the list of usurpers. I’m too angry about this to even put pen to paper.)

Well geeks over to you…am I misjudging what it means to usurp? Are you a crazed Yorkist who believes that house can do no wrong? Do you have a crush on Max Hastings and are letting that cloud your view? I want to know what YOU think!