duke-of-clarence

me: I must understand the medieval History of England.

*some books and documentaries later*

me: …plenty of Kings indeed…

me: *a bit doubtful* So let’s systematize:

me: *quite doubtful and sweating* Just need to add the respective names and dates and it will be great…

2

history meme (plantagenet edition) →  5 deaths (2/5), George Plantagenet, 1st Duke of Clarence

George was imprisoned in the Tower of London and put on trial for treason against his brother Edward IV - who prosecuted his brother and demanded that Parliament pass a Bill of Attainder against him, declaring that he was guilty of “unnatural, loathly treasons”. Following his conviction, he was “privately executed” at the Tower on 18 February 1478, by tradition in the Bowyer Tower, and soon after the event, the rumour gained ground that he had been drowned in a butt of Malmsey wine.

6

All of Henry VIII’s six wives were related to each other–and to Henry–by a common ancestor, King Edward I (“Longshanks”). Henry was Edward’s seven- and nine-times great-grandson on his mother’s side and his six-times great-grandson on his father’s, while all of his wives–including the Spanish-born Katherine of Aragon and the German-born Anne of Cleves–were Edward’s seven-, eight-, or nine-times great-granddaughters.*

To the best of my ability, here are the wives’ ancestry dating back to Edward I.

Edward I → Edward II → Edward III → John of Gaunt → Philippa of Lancaster → Infante John of Portugal → Isabel of Portugal → Isabel of Castile → Katherine of Aragon

Edward I → Thomas of Brotherton → Margaret, Duchess of Norfolk → Elizabeth de Segrave → Thomas Mowbray → Margaret Mowbray → John Howard → Thomas Howard → Elizabeth Howard → Anne Boleyn

Edward I → Edward II → Edward III → Lionel, Duke of Clarence → Phillippa of Clarence →  Elizabeth Mortimer → Elizabeth Percy → Mary Clifford → Henry Wentworth → Margaret Wentwoth → Jane Seymour

Edward I → Margaret, Duchess of Brabant → John III of Brabant → Margaret of Brabant → Margaret III of Flanders → John I of Burgundy → Marie of Burgundy → John I, Duke of Cleves → John II, Duke of Cleves → John III, Duke of Cleves → Anne of Cleves

Edward I → Thomas of Brotherton → Margaret, Duchess of Norfolk → Elizabeth de Segrave → Thomas Mowbray → Margaret Mowbray → John Howard → Thomas Howard → Edmund Howard → Kathryn Howard

Edward I → Edward II → Edward III → John of Gaunt → Joan Beaufort → Richard Neville → Alice Neville → Elizabeth FitzHugh → Thomas Parr → Katherine Parr

While Anne Boleyn and Kathryn Howard were famously the most closely related of Henry’s wives as first cousins, (Anne’s mother was a sister of Kathryn’s father), Katherine of Aragon, Jane Seymour, and Katherine Parr all share a closer common ancestor in Edward III, and the first and last of Henry’s Katherines were both descended from John of Gaunt, who was Aragon’s three- and Parr’s four-times great-grandfather, respectively.

It’s also possible that some or all of these women were descended from other members of the English royal family in yet more ways, but these are the lines that I was able to follow. Until very recently I had no idea that all of Henry’s wives, even Anne of Cleves, were related to him; I thought it was kind of wild!

* This may not be the precisely correct terminology, as I’m no genealogist.

8

18 February 1516 – The birth of a fair princess

In the early hours of 18th February 1516, at Greenwich Palace, “was borne a fayre prynces and christened with great solempnitie, and named Mary.” This little girl was the future Queen Mary I.

Mary was baptised on 20th February 1516 in the Church of the Observant Friars at Greenwich. The little princess was carried to the font by the Countess of Surrey and her godparents were Catherine Courtenay, Countess of Devon and daughter of Edward IV; Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury and daughter of George, Duke of Clarence; the Duchess of Norfolk, and Cardinal Thomas Wolsey.

She was the only surviving child of King Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon and the first queen to rule England in her own right. Mary was crowned on October 1553 and reigned until her death in 1558 at St. James Palace in London

I am haunted by the dead. I have seen my brothers, husband and sons fight for the crown of a divided kingdom. I have known no peace in my lifetime, I have only known heartbreak and mistrust. Now, my dearest granddaughter has been sacrificed to the welsh dragon that has plagued my family for so long. So forgive me, my Lord, if I do not rejoice in the union of my kin to the Lancastrians. I have fought for so long with the white rose at my breast, I am weary from years of loss and disappointment. 

cynicalclassicist  asked:

And how suitable that Renly is seen as the good guy in contrast to Stannis. The writers have unintentionally been metafictional. And when you take into account Stannis is Richard III, who underwent Historical Villain Upgrade, and Renly is the smug, treacherous and power-hungry George, duke of Clarence who had his villainous aspects played down to make his brother look worse... Yeh, the writers don't realize they're doing the same things happening in-universe.

I know I harp on the Stannis-Renly thing a lot, but honestly, compare how Stannis talks about Proudwing…

“When I was a lad I found an injured goshawk and nursed her back to health. Proudwing, I named her.”

…to how Renly talks about Shireen…

“If truth be told, I ofttimes wonder how Stannis ever got that ugly daughter of his.”

…or what Stannis thinks of Davos…

“Your Grace, you cannot…I am no fit man to be a King’s Hand.”

“There is no man fitter.” Stannis sheathed Lightbringer, gave Davos his hand, and pulled him to his feet.

…to what Renly thinks of Brienne.

“Renly thought she was absurd. A woman dressed in man’s mail, pretending to be a knight.”

Support Group for People Unfairly Maligned in Historical Fiction

Edward II: Greetings, everyone!  I’m Edward of Caernarfon, as you probably all know - do feel free to call me Ned - and I’m your moderator for this, the second meeting of all of us unfortunate historical folks maligned in fiction of the twenty-first century.  We’re here to share our pain, and to share the sillinesses perpetuated about us written hundreds of years after our deaths.  I’ll get us started.  As well as all the unfair and wildly untrue things about me I shared at our last meeting, there’s some new stuff.  According to one novelist, I react to things by ‘snivelling’ and am a coward who runs away from the battlefield of Bannockburn and is too afraid to fight, even though in reality I had to be dragged protesting from the field and fought 'like a lioness deprived of her cubs’ right in the thick of battle.

Piers Gaveston: Pretty damn sure I never saw you snivel, Ned.  I bet the terribly heterosexual manly hero Roger Mortimer doesn’t 'snivel’ in that novel, eh?

Edward II: Damn right, he doesn’t.  That same novel also accuses me of cowardice because I don’t beat up my wife, which was a real lolwut?? moment, I tell you.

Margaret Beaufort: May I have the floor, Ned?  I, apparently, am a religious maniac with a weirdly anachronistic Joan of Arc fetish - why? I mean, why?! - which I have to talk about every five minutes.  I mysteriously forget that I’m the countess of Richmond all the time.  But worst of all by far, I’m meant to have had Edward IV’s two sons murdered in the Tower of London so that my own son Henry Tudor could become king.  Because obviously I knew that Richard III’s son would conveniently die young a few months later and clear the path to the throne, and I could stroll in and out of the most fortified and well-guarded stronghold in the country and murder two princes without anyone noticing.  Yup.  Invisible Superwoman, that’s me.

Edward II: That’s awful, Margaret!  You mean people are willing to accuse you of the cold-blooded murder of children when there isn’t the tiniest shred of evidence whatsoever?

Margaret Beaufort: Indeed there are, plenty of them.  There are also people on modern social media who call me a 'snake’ and express a wish that I’d died in childbirth and my son with me.  I was thirteen at the time.  Yes, there really are people out there who wish a thirteen-year-old had suffered a painful death in childbirth.  It seems that they forget we were human beings with feelings too.

George, duke of Clarence: Hey, everyone!  Talking about blatant ways of making us appear really unlikeable and horrible, I’d like to protest at the way novelists in the twenty-first century portray me as this ridiculously one-dimensional alcoholic wife-beater.  That’s all there ever was to me, apparently.  Alcoholism.  And wife-beating.  I never even laid a finger on Isabel!

Henry VII: There’s this one novel where my mother Margaret Beaufort - who just hasn’t been maligned enough, apparently - tells me to rape my fiancée Elizabeth of York before we marry to make sure that she can become pregnant.  If she can’t, I’m to marry her sister Cecily instead.  Still trying to figure that one out - am I supposed to go through all the sisters until I find one who gets pregnant and then marry her?  Just so darn weird.

Elizabeth of York: Wait, let me see that one!  Oh yeah, I remember now, the novel where I spend half the time mooning over my lost uncle Richard III, who I was totally in love with, allegedly, and refer to constantly as 'my lover’.  My uncle.  There is not enough eeeewwwww in my vocabulary.

Henry VII: I’m depicted as this pathetic little mummy’s boy half the time.  And I’ve been trying to block the horror of it out of my mind, but there’s another novel that has me - get this, folks - drinking the blood of young men.  Like wuuuuuuh?

Elizabeth of York: I don’t know.

Edward II: You don’t know what?

Elizabeth of York: I don’t know what I don’t know.  I don’t know anything.  Say anything to me and I’ll reply that I don’t know.

Elizabeth Woodville: Hey, everyone, did you know I’m a witch?  Witch witch witch.  Who makes witchy things happen all the witching time.  Because I’m a witch.  A witchy witch who does lots of witchy things.  On every witchy page of the witchy novel about how I’m a witch.

Anne Neville: I’m getting pretty annoyed with the way I’m almost always depicted as terribly frail, to the point where I faint or collapse about every five minutes.  Yes, I died young, but that doesn’t mean I’d been a permanent invalid all my life, people!  Yeesh, it’d be great to have someone write me as though I had an actual backbone and some personality, instead of as this weak feeble fainting little…thing.

Edward of Lancaster: True, and it’d be nice if someone would acknowledge that you didn’t necessarily spend your entire marriage to me weeping and wailing over Richard of Gloucester.

Anne Neville: I did a little bit at first maybe, just a tiny little bit, but I soon got used to the idea of being queen of England one day.  That was pretty cool.  Something else modern novelists never seem to realise about me is that maybe I had a bit of ambition and quite fancied being a queen!

Edward of Lancaster: Yeah, we kind of got used to being married to each other and didn’t mind it at all, did we?  And you know, it’s so unfair when a throwaway bravado comment you make when you’re still practically a child is then used for the next half a millennium as though it represents the sum total of your personality and is constantly used to present you as a sadistic murderous psychopath.  Modern people, would you like it if someone took one of your sulky adolescent pronouncements as though it’s representative of your entire life and attitudes?

Henry VI: And when one remark by one visitor to England, simply reporting a rumour he had heard that I supposedly said that my son Edward was fathered by the Holy Ghost, is taken that my son absolutely must have been fathered by someone else other than me.  As though my wife Margaret of Anjou isn’t maligned enough!

Margaret of Anjou: Oh, you mean I actually have a name?  Like seriously?  I thought I was just called 'the bad queen’.  Voice dripping with sarcasm here.

Elizabeth of York: I don’t know.

Edward II: Afraid we’re running out of time and will have to wrap this up now, folks!  Hope you all feel somewhat better after getting this rubbish off your chests, and take care until the next meeting of the Support Group for People Maligned in Historical Fiction!  Goodnight!


- Kathryn Warner from her blog edwardthesecond.blogspot.com (excepts about the Wars of The Roses historical fiction)