#historian: ralph griffiths

[une-sanz-pluis]

Mystery also surrounds Owen Tudor's marriage, but there is no question as to its validity or the legitimacy of his offspring. Richard III's proclamations described Tudor as a bastard; his marriage, however, was not disputed.

Ralph Griffiths, "Tudor, Owen [Owain ap Maredudd ap Tudur] (c. 1400–1461)", Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004, updated 2008)

[une-sanz-pluis]

I've been meaning to reply with the use of genealogical trees being used as support for Henry VI's claim to France.

From: Neil Murphy, "Ceremony and Conflict in Fifteenth-Century France: Lancastrian Ceremonial Entries into French Towns, 1415-1431", Explorations in Renaissance Culture, vol. 30, no. 2, December 2013

(I know there's an article that discusses this in more detail but I can't lay my hand on it right now).

As well as the very famous genealogical tree in the Talbot-Shrewsbury Book which shows Henry's dual descent from Louis IX:

Of course, it wasn't a new technique during Henry VI's lifetime either; Edward III promoted his claim to the throne of France with a genealogical tree:

Who should be the King of England? That is the question this elaborate medieval diagram dares to answer. Created during the War of the Roses, when the Houses of Lancaster and York were engaged in a bitter fight for the English throne, this multi-page chart enlivened with bright colors and gold leaf lands emphatically on Edward IV and the House of York. With efficiency and bravado, it places Edward within world history, tracing his lineage back to Adam and Eve and linking him to the great rulers of history including King David, Alexander the Great, King Arthur, and William the Conqueror. How could Henry VI, Edward’s bitter rival, possibly compete?

[heartofstanding]

Since I want to read about the Beauforts but Nathen Amin's book on the Beauforts is probably going to annoy me, I've not heard anything about John Brunton's (it just came out) and G. L. Harriss's book on Cardinal Beaufort is prohibitively expensive, I turned my attention to the reviews for Harriss's book and decided to write to share some bits.

Richard G. Davies's review starts out with a tidbit bound to make me happy:

I'm not sure that this is true - David Rundle notes, for example, that the clause in Henry V's will is confusing. But at the very least, I think, there was enough there to make parliament feel like Humphrey had a case, even if it was an uncertain one.

lol.

James L. Gillespie's review has this tidbit that made me sit up and go WHAT

This book, with P. A. Johnson's Richard, Duke of York (Oxford, 1988), does much to refine our understanding of the politics of Henry VI's reign albeit Gloucester is viewed very unsympathetically. Ralph Griffith's [sic] forthcoming biography of Duke Humphrey may yet redress the balance.

The review was published in 1990 so I'm guessing the biography fell through but MAN. This is actually the second time I've come across a reference to a forthcoming book on Humphrey that didn't eventuate (there's an article from 2011, iirc, that says it'll feature in a forthcoming edited collection on Humphrey but of course it didn't). Which is disappointing and frustrating because I feel one of the biggest problems with Humphrey's current reputation is that apart from the very expensive, academic and literature patronage-focused works of Saygin and Petrina (which are now also out of print), there hasn't been proper academic work on Humphrey since the Vickers bio in 1908 which I think a lot of modern historians - especially those who present themselves as progressive - ignore because "ew Victorian historians".

also lol

Gillepsie concludes with

So true, bestie.

Still, could be worse. The Bedford Inventories are nearly US$200 second-hand these days.

[biofunmy]

The Hotel Historian Is at Your Service

For David Pupo, learning about Blantyre, in Lenox, Mass., was about reclaiming his own past. Mr. Pupo grew up about a half mile away from the luxury hotel, which was built in 1902.

As a teenager, Mr. Pupo, who doubles as Blantyre’s director of membership and concierge services, spent his summers swimming in the grand pool behind the main house, back when it was a swim club for locals. Mr. Pupo wanted to know more about the 110-acre estate that played such a prominent role in his youth.

So he read everything that had been written on the place. He now leads daily history tours in the mansion, which was once briefly owned by the filmmaker D.W. Griffith. “We show how the house was used in the Gilded Age period, and compare and contrast it to how it is being used today as a five-star hotel,” he said.

For David Pupo, learning about the Blantyre was about reclaiming his own past. CreditLauren Lancaster for The New York Times

Others are utilizing the property’s history to help inform the present.

When the real estate developer Anthony Champalimaud took over Troutbeck, a country estate-turned-guesthouse in Amenia, N.Y., in 2016, he and his wife, Charlie, spent two years exhaustively researching the history. (Mr. Champalimaud is the former managing director of Champalimaud, a design firm that has overseen renovations and redesigns at many hotels and guest properties, including Singapore Raffles.)

Troutbeck was built in 1765 by Myron Benton, a farmer, poet and writer whose pals included Ralph Waldo Emerson, Mark Twain and Henry David Thoreau, all of whom visited regularly.

In 1902, the property was purchased by Colonel Joel Spingarn and his wife, Amy. Mr. Spingarn, who founded the publishing house Harcourt Brace & Company, entertained the likes of Ernest Hemingway, Sinclair Lewis and Theodore Roosevelt (The president favored room 8). Later visitors included Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall, W.E.B. Du Bois, and Langston Hughes.

Sahred From Source link Travel

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[adrian-paul-botta]

The Movies, Mr. Griffith and Me By Lillian Gish & Ann Pinchot (Englewood Cliffs, NJ Prentice-Hall, 1969)

D. W. Griffith (1875–1948) was a popular and innovative Hollywood film director who made silent films in the early 20th century. His most famous film was Birth of a Nation, which appeared in 1915 and drew criticism from many African Americans for its depiction of blacks and its advocacy of white supremacy. The NAACP organized protests and boycotts of the film nationwide. In this selection from her autobiography, the actress Lillian Gish describes Griffith’s conception of the film.

One afternoon during the spring of 1914, while we were still working in California, Mr. Griffith took me aside on the set and said in an undertone, “After the others leave tonight, would you please stay.” Later, as some of the company drifted out, I realized that a similar message had been given to a few others. This procedure was typical of Mr. Griffith when he was planning a new film. He observed us with a smile, amused perhaps by our curiosity over the mystery that he had created. I suspected what the meeting was about. A few days before, we had been having lunch at The White Kitchen, and I had noticed that his pockets were crammed with papers and pamphlets. My curiosity was aroused, but it would have been presumptuous of me to ask about them. With Mr. Griffith one did not ask; one only answered. Besides, I had learned that if I waited long enough he would tell me. “I’ve bought a book by Thomas Dixon, called The Clansman. I’m going to use it to tell the truth about the War between the States. It hasn’t been told accurately in history books. Only the winning side in a war ever gets to tell its story.” He paused, watching the cluster of actors: Henry Walthall, Spottiswoode Aiken, Bobby Harron, Mae Marsh, Miriam Cooper, Elmer Clifton, George Siegmann, Walter Long, and me.

“The story concerns two families—the Stonemans from the North and the Camerons from the South.” He added significantly, “I know I can trust you.” He swore us to secrecy, and to us his caution was understandable. Should his competitors learn of his new project, they would have films on the same subject completed before his work was released. He discussed his story plots freely only over lunch or dinner, often testing them out on me because I was close-mouthed and never repeated what anyone told me.…

Mr. Griffith didn’t need the Dixon book. His intention was to tell his version of the War between the States. But he evidently lacked the confidence to start production on a twelve-reel film without an established book as a basis for his story. After the film was completed and he had shown it to the so-called author, Dixon said: “This isn’t my book at all.” But Mr. Griffith was glad to use Dixon’s name on the film as author, for, as he told me, “The public hates you if it thinks you wrote, directed, and produced the entire film yourself. It’s the quickest way to make enemies.” After the first rehearsal, the pace increased. Mr. Griffith worked, as usual, without a script. But this time his pockets bulged with books, maps, and pamphlets, which he read during meals and the rare breaks in his hectic schedule.… At first I didn’t pay much attention to Mr. Griffith’s concept of the film. His claim that history books falsified actual happenings struck me as most peculiar. At that time I was too naïve to think that history books would attempt to falsify anything. I’ve lived long enough now to know that the whole truth is never told in history texts. Only the people who lived through an era, who are the real participants in the drama as it occurs, know the truth. The people of each generation, it seems to me, are the most accurate historians of their time. Soon sets were going up; costumes arrived; and mysterious crates, evidently filled with military equipment, were delivered.…

When the final casting was announced, we learned that Ralph Lewis was to play the Honorable Austin Stoneman, the “uncrowned king of Capitol Hill.” The character of Stoneman, a fiery political fanatic from the North, was patterned after the real-life Thaddeus Stevens, one of the legislators whose harsh policy toward the South wrecked President Lincoln’s postwar plans. Bobby Harron and Elmer Clifton were to play Stoneman’s sons, and I was given the role of his daughter Elsie. Mary Alden was to be Stoneman’s mulatto mistress Lydia Brown, whom Dixon described as “a woman of extraordinary animal beauty and the fiery temper of a leopardess.” George Siegmann was awarded the part of Silas Lynch, who, according to Dixon, was “a Negro of perhaps forty years, a man of charming features.…” Walter Long was to be the renegade Negro Gus, and Elmo Lincoln, a magnificent strong man who would later swing through the trees as Tarzan, played the Negro who attacks Wallace Reid, the stalwart blacksmith. There were practically no Negro actors in California then and, as far as we knew, only a few in the East. Even in minstrel shows, the parts were usually played by whites in blackface. The only scene in which actual Negroes appear in The Birth is the one in which the Stoneman boys, visiting the southern Camerons, are taken out to the plantation to see Negroes working in the cotton fields.

When this scene was filmed in Death Valley, where the Negroes worked, they danced andplayed their banjos for the visiting actors. But one young Negro woman did play in the film—Madame Sul-Te-Wan. (We never did discover the origin of her name.) She was first employed to help us keep our dressing rooms clean at the studio. She was devoted to Mr. Griffith, and he in turn loved her. Later, when Madame was having financial difficulties, he sent her money to help herself and her small sons. She was one of the few friends near him when he died years later in Hollywood.… For President Lincoln, Mr. Griffith chose Joseph Henabery, a tall, thin man who could be made up to resemble Lincoln. The search for an appropriate Mary Todd Lincoln ended when he found a woman with an uncanny similarity to the First Lady working in wardrobe. Raoul Walsh was picked for the role of John Wilkes Booth. Members of Mr. Lincoln’s Cabinet were chosen on the basis of facial resemblance to the historical characters. The other historical characters were recreated by Donald Crisp as General Grant, Howard Gaye as General Lee, and Sam de Grasse as Senator Sumner.…

Although fact and legend were familiar to him, he did meticulous research for The Birth. The first half of The Birth, about the war itself, reflects his own point of view. I know that he also relied greatly on Harper’s Pictorial History of the Civil War, Matthew Brady’s Civil War Photographs: Confederate and Union Veterans— Eyewitnesses on Location; the Nicolay and Hay Abraham Lincoln: A History; and The Soldier in Our Civil War: A Pictorial History of the Conflict 1861–1865. For the second half, about Reconstruction, he consulted Thomas Dixon, and A History of the American People by Woodrow Wilson. President Wilson had taught history before going into politics, and Mr. Griffith had great respect for his erudition. For Klan material, he drew on a book called Ku Klux Klan—Its Origin, Growth and Disbandment by John C. Lester and D.L. Wilson. But he did not use the uniform that is worn by Klan members today. Instead he used the costumes that, according to Thomas Dixon, were worn by the earlier Klans—white and scarlet flowing robes with hood and mask to hide the features of rider and horse. Brady’s photographs were constantly consulted, and Mr. Griffith restaged many moments of history with complete fidelity to them. The photographs were used as guides for such scenes as Lee’s surrender at Appomattox, the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, and Sherman’s march to the sea. He telegraphed a newspaper in Columbia, South Carolina, for photographs of the interior of the state capital, which held a majority of Negro representatives after the war, and constructed the legislative chamber according to the photographs.

The largest interior was Ford’s Theater, the setting of the assassination scene, which was done in one day on the lot. So great was Mr. Griffith’s obsession with authenticity that he unearthed a copy of Our American Cousin, which had been performed at Ford’s Theater on the night of the assassination, and restaged parts of it. In the actual filming, as Raoul Walsh, gun ready, steals into the Presidential box, the lines being spoken on the replica of the stage are precisely those spoken at the fateful moment on the night of April 14, 1865. This fidelity to facts was an innovation in films. Mr. Griffith knew the terrain of the battle fields, and he hired several Civil War veterans to scout locations similar to the original ones. After exploring the southern California country, they chose what later became the Universal lot for the countryside around Petersburg, Virginia, site of the last prolonged siege and final battle of the war. He had studied maps of the major battles of the Civil War and, with the help of the veterans, laid out the battle fields. Trenches, breastworks, roads, brooks, and buildings were constructed to duplicate those of the actual battle fields. Troop movements were planned with the advice of the veterans and two men from West Point Military Academy. Civil War artillery was obtained from West Point and the Smithsonian Institution, for use when the camera was close. Mr. Griffith also sent to the Smithsonian for historical records and then went over the documents with his advisers. But in the end he came to his own conclusions about historical facts. He would never take the opinion of only one man as final.

Source: From The Movies, Mr. Griffith, and Me by Lillian Gish with Ann Pinchot. Copyright © 1969 by Lillian Gish and Ann Pinchot. Copyright renewed © 1997 by James Frasher and Ann Pinchot. Reprinted by arrangement with James Frasher, Susan Pinchot, and the Barbara Hogenson Agency.

Back to Lillian Gish Home page

Colorful, lively, and moving memoir of a giant of the early screen, actress Lillian Gish. Her story is inseparable with the history of the movies, from the early days, when the pioneers of the industry worked long hours through hardship and cold, public criticism through the horrors of war, and the proverty of the Depression. She knew them all: Mary Pickford, Greta Garbo, Rudolh Valentino, Noel Coward, Erich Von Stroheim, and many more. She talks about the director of many of her films, D.W. Griffith (David Wark Griffith), whose consuming passion creating new ways to tell stories on celluloid. A long-time member of his company, she separates the man from the legend. She exposes the very personal, human side of this early Hollywood legend, warts and all.

True to her own philosophy, Lillian Gish in this book tells the story of her own era and of the personalities who built the movie industry to its present greatness. With candour and wisdom, humour and pathos, Miss Gish relates her own experiences and fascinating memories of the growth and development of motion pictures. This is the story of a great industry, from birth to maturity. It is also the story of the people who struggled, dreamed, and strove unceasingly to make the film industry the giant that it is today.

The subtlety and passionate conviction of her work with Griffith revolutionized the art of screen acting. In 1920, she became one of the first women to direct a feature film, REMODELING HER HUSBAND. Soon after that, she assumed artistic control of the films in which she appeared; her contract with MGM in the late silent era gave her a power few other women have achieved in Hollywood. With such productions as LA BOHÈME, THE SCARLET LETTER and THE WIND, she brought the silent film to the summit of its art.

Peter Warrack: Lillian Gish signing her book, The Movies, Mr. Griffith and Me

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The Movies, Mr. Griffith and Me – Photo Gallery

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The Movies, Mr. Griffith and Me – 1969 The Movies, Mr. Griffith and Me By Lillian Gish & Ann Pinchot (Englewood Cliffs, NJ Prentice-Hall, 1969)

[heartofstanding]

...there are a lot mistakes or misleading the statements in this blurb. I suppose it’s to be expected because pop historians and historical novelists have been telling the same story about Catherine over and over again, despite the evidence not really supporting it.

The “depravity” of Isabeau (Isabel) of Bavaria has been been strongly contested (cf. the work of Tracy Adams, Rachel Gibbons) and it’s now believed she has been unfairly smeared and vilified. 

The act to prevent Catherine from remarrying came as a response to her relationship with Edmund Beaufort, not Owen Tudor. As far as we can tell, her relationship with Owen began after the act was passed.

It was passed into legislation when John, Duke of Bedford (the eldest of Henry V’s surviving brothers and Gloucester’s political superior) was in England and head of the council. 

It was also supported by Henry Beaufort, Edmund Beaufort’s uncle, and as Chancellor of England, he had been rejecting Catherine’s attempts to have her remarriage licensed. Ralph Griffiths, who has studied the act, suggests Beaufort was “embarrassed” by the whole situation.

Gloucester did not support Catherine’s remarriage either but he did not single-handedly champion the act. It seems as if the entire council did not want Catherine to remarry. 

This was not necessarily personal - Catherine was a political figure and her remarriage had potentially huge ramifications for England.

We don’t know who knew about Catherine and Owen’s marriage - some historians suggest it was tolerated as an open secret until Catherine’s death, others that it was only discovered after Catherine’s death or retirement to Bermondsey Abbey. 

The idea that Catherine was retired to Bermondsey Abbey after her marriage was discovered was invented by the infamously unreliable Agnes Strickland in the 1800s. Catherine’s own words, recorded in her will written while she was at Bermondsey Abbey, suggest she might have retired to the abbey due to a “grievous malady, in which I have been long, and yet am troubled and vexed”.

C a t h e r i n e   o f   V a l o i s  |  27 October 1401 - 3 January 1437

Catherine of Valois, Queen of Henry V of England, daughter of Charles VI of France by his wife Isabel of Bavaria, was born in Paris on the 27th of October 1401. The lunacy of her father and the depravity of her mother were serious drawbacks to Catherine, and her only education was obtained in a convent at Poissy.

About 1408, a marriage was suggested between the princess and Henry, Prince of Wales, afterwards King Henry V, who renewed this proposal after he became king in March 1413. In addition to the hand of Catherine, however, the English king asked for a large dowry both in money and lands, and when these demands were rejected war broke out. Once or twice during short intervals of peace the marriage project was revived, and was favoured by Queen Isabel. When peace was eventually made at Troyes in May 1420 Henry and Catherine were betrothed, and the marriage took place at Troyes on the 2nd of June 1420. Having crossed to England with Henry, the queen was crowned in Westminster Abbey on the 23rd of February 1421, and in the following December gave birth to a son, afterwards King Henry VI. She joined Henry in France in May 1422, returning to England after his death in the succeeding August.

Catherine’s name soon began to be coupled with that of Owen Tudor, a Welsh gentleman, and in 1428 Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, secured the passing of an act to prevent her from marrying without the consent of the king and council. It appears, however, that by this time Catherine and Tudor were already married. They lived in obscurity until 1436, when Tudor was imprisoned, and Catherine retired to Bermondsey Abbey, where she died on the 3rd of January 1437. Her body was buried in the Lady chapel of Westminster Abbey, and when the chapel was pulled down during the reign of King Henry VII, was placed in Henry V’s tomb. It lay afterwards under the Villiers monument, and in 1878 was reburied in Henry V’s chantry. By Tudor Catherine had three sons and a daughter. Her eldest son by this marriage, Edmund, was created Earl of Richmond in 1452, and was the father of Henry VII.

[ssact1]

Soma

Soma (Sanskrit: सोम) connotes the Moon as well as a deity in post-Vedic Hindu mythology. In Puranic mythology, Soma is the moon deity, but sometimes also used to refer to Vishnu, Shiva (as Somanatha), Yama and Kubera. In some Indian texts, Soma is a name of an Apsara, alternatively it is the name of any medicinal concoction, or rice-water gruel, or heaven and sky, as well as the name of certain places of pilgrimage.

Soma is synonymous with Chandra, Indu (bright drop), Atrisuta (son of Atri), Sachin (marked by hare), Taradhipa (lord of stars) and Nishakara (the night maker).

Soma (Sanskrit: soma) or haoma (Avestan) was a Vedic ritual drink of importance among the early Indians. It is mentioned in the Rigveda, particularly in the Soma Mandala. In the Avestan literature, haoma has the entire Yasht 20 and Yasna 9–11 dedicated to it.

It is described as being prepared by extracting the juice from a plant, the identity of which is now unknown and debated among scholars. In both Hinduism and Zoroastrianism, the name of the drink and the plant are the same.

In the Vedas, the same word (soma) is used for the drink, the plant, and its deity. Drinking soma produces immortality (Amrita, Rigveda 8.48.3). Indra and Agni are portrayed as consuming soma in copious quantities. The consumption of soma by human beings is well attested in Vedic ritual.

The Rigveda (8.48.3) says:

ápāma sómam amŕtā abhūmâganma jyótir ávidāma devân

kíṃ nūnám asmân kṛṇavad árātiḥ kím u dhūrtír amṛta mártyasya

Ralph T.H. Griffith translates this as:

We have drunk soma and become immortal; we have attained the light, the Gods discovered. Now what may foeman's malice do to harm us? What, O Immortal, mortal man's deception?

The references to immortality and light are characteristics of an entheogenic experience. Also, consider Rigveda (8.79.2-6) regarding the power of Soma: "...He covers the naked and heals all who are sick. The blind man sees; the lame man steps forth....Let those who seek find what they seek: let them receive the treasure....Let him find what was lost before; let him push forward the man of truth...." Such is indicative of an experience with an entheogen of some source.

The identity of the ancient plant known as Soma is one of the greatest unsolved mysteries in the field of religious history. Common in the religious lore of both ancient India and Persia, the sacred Soma plant was considered a God. When Soma was pressed and made into a drink, the ancient worshipper who imbibed it gained the powerful attributes of this God. 

In a spirit similar to that of the Catholic Eucharists, Soma was prepared in a sacred ritual, and then bestowed upon the pious to give them spiritual inspiration, wisdom, courage, health, and other benefits.

In the 1921 Encyclopedia of Religion and Ethics, the effects of consuming Soma are described as follows:

“In such a state, the devotee becomes as powerful as an independent monarch, and is able to withstand many dangers coming from ill-disposed persons. Heaven, health, long life, power to contend against evils, victory against enemies, and fore-warnings against coming dangers from thieves, murderers, and plunderers are the six gifts bestowed by Haoma when adequately praised and prepared. Haoma is specially sought for by young maidens in search of good husbands, by married women desirous of being mothers, and by students striving after knowledge.”

Over the millennia, the original identity of Soma/Haoma has been lost. Although modern descendants of these ancient cults still perform the rituals of their ancestors, placebo sacraments are now used in place of the long lost Soma.

The plant which was the original source of Soma is a mystery that has been debated by scholars and theologians for centuries.

The mountain top location for the ancient Soma has been identified as the Hindu-Kush Mountains, an area also renowned for the quality ganja it has produced for millennia.

Also, the beautiful fragrance of Soma is referred to a number of times, hardly something that would be applicable to a mushroom.

References to the blissful state Soma produced and the quantity and extent to which it was used also limits the number of potential candidates. Some botanical suggestions produce effects which could be considered far from blissful. In many cases, if ingested in the quantities in which Soma was consumed, suggested candidates would be toxic. Safety at high dosages and blissful states are both attributes of cannabis.

Taking all this into account, it is not surprising to find that many researchers have disputed the theory that amanita muscaria is Soma, and instead suggest cannabis as the prime candidate.

Soma and bhang

Cannabis was originally rejected outright by western historians researching the identity of Soma. It was not until 1921 and the publication of Braja Lal Mukherjee’s article “The Soma Plant” in the Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society that “bhang” was put forth as a serious candidate.

Mukherjee based his assertion on references in the Satapatha Brahmana that mention a plant, “usana,” from which Soma is made. The “u” in “usana” was a prefix carry over from the Kiratas, with whom Soma originated. When the “u” is dropped you return to one of the original Sanskrit names for cannabis: “sana.”

As well, Mukherjee notes the use of terms similar to Soma in cannabis names in the languages of the Tibetans (somarasta) and the Tanguts (dschoma). Mukherjee also noted the long Hindu history regarding the sanctity of bhang, and its use in the worship of Shiva and his counterpart, Durga.

Finally, like other researchers, Mukherjee noted the obvious parallels between ancient descriptions of the preparation of the Soma and the traditional preparation of bhang.

Also in favor of the theory that Soma was originally cannabis are ancient writings which indicate that the stalks of the Soma were woven together and worn around the neck as an amulet for protection. This is similar to the modern wearing of hempen jewelry amongst the counter-culture.

Soma is also described as having the multi-faceted fibrous and healing properties we now recognize in cannabis. “The restless Soma - you try to grab him but he breaks away and overpowers everything,” reads one Vedic passage. “He is a sage and seer inspired by poetry. He covers the naked and heals all who are sick. The blind man sees; the lame man steps forth.”

[une-sanz-pluis]

Indeed, there are indications that [Eleanor Cobham's] degradation was contrived by the Court, and members of the Household were given exclusive charge of her as she was chivvied from castle to castle in the following years. Eventually, she was placed in the custody of Sir Thomas Stanley on the Isle of Man, of which Stanley was lord. In March 1449 it was decided to transfer her to Beaumaris, where the king's carver, Sir William Beauchamp, was constable of the castle under the overall authority of Stanley and the duke of Suffolk as joint-justiciars of north Wales. The reason for what proved to be the final move in the sorry saga of Eleanor's progress from prison to prison in north-west England is not obviously apparent. It may be that the Household's grip which had closed on north Wales and Cheshire made Beaumaris a more secure place than Man, for although Stanley was lord of the Isle, he is not known ever to have visited it. By contrast, he and his servants would find Beaumaris rather more accessible and easier to police, while at the same time Eleanor would remain reasonably beyond the resources of those who (as in 1447) were thought to be plotting her release. Equally, the Isle of Man was more exposed to naval attacks by the Scots, the Irish and even by the French. Shortly before 1450, hostile Scots, Bretons and others had even landed on the island of Anglesey itself and caused serious damage, and in 1448-49 the Scots were said to be committing depredations there daily. But it is likely that the Isle of Man suffered such attacks even more severely. As it was, Anglesey and Beaumaris castle were urgently reinforced in 1449 against both foreign invaders and Welsh dissidents. These reinforcements (of eight soldiers, and then twelve and one priest) were needed that much more speedily once it was decided to transfer Eleanor Cobham to the island. On 10 March 1449 at Man castle, she was handed over by John Glegge, Sir Thomas Stanley's representative and janitor of Flint castle (where Stanley was constable), to William Bulkeley, the Cheshire esquire who was serjeant-at-arms in north Wales and lived at Beaumaris. Bulkeley was acting on behalf of Sir William Beauchamp, the constable of Beaumaris castle, whence she was taken forthwith with a great company.

Ralph A. Griffiths, "Richard of York and the Royal Household in Wales, 1449-1450", King and Country: England and Wales in the Fifteenth Century (The Hambleton Press 1991)

[une-sanz-pluis]

By 1435, the dynastic prospects of the house of Lancaster had deteriorated alarmingly: Bedford was dead and had left no legitimate heirs; Henry VI at the age of fourteen was unmarried and childless; and even Gloucester, by then aged forty-four, had little chance of fathering the legitimate heir that had hitherto eluded him and his two wives—something which contemporaries realized when, from 1440 onwards, steps were taken to formally dispose of his property in the event of his death. The personality and political attitudes of Duke Humphrey and his second wife, Eleanor Cobham, intensified contemporaries' concern for the succession even while he lived. It was apparent after 1435 that should anything happen to Henry VI, Gloucester would succeed to the throne and Eleanor would become queen (for no previous English king had not made his wife queen). But beyond the Gloucesters there was no further Lancastrian heir in existence and no likelihood of one in the direct line until Henry VI married. Then, too, Duke Humphrey had acquired a long list of enemies over the past twenty years. For these reasons, the possibility of his succeeding King Henry probably played a part in the scandal that enveloped his wife in 1441. Her trial highlighted the fragile dynastic hold which the Lancastrians had on the English (let alone the French) throne, even aside from whether Gloucester himself was personally acceptable or not in some influential quarters.

Ralph A. Griffiths, The Reign of King Henry VI: The Exercise of Royal Authority, 1422-1461 (Fonthill, 3rd edition, 2020).

[une-sanz-pluis]

After Catherine died, Gloucester summoned Tudor before the council under a safe conduct; he sought sanctuary at Westminster. He maintained his innocence of any charge and was released, but on his way to Wales was arrested. His goods, worth £137 10s. 4d., were seized and he was consigned to Newgate prison, whence he escaped in January or early February 1438. After his recapture by John, Lord Beaumont (d. 1460), he returned to Newgate, and was then transferred to Windsor Castle (14 July) in the charge, soon afterwards, of Edmund Beaufort. Released in July 1439 on a £2000 recognizance, he was pardoned all offences on 12 November. Thereafter he was a member of the king's household; his two sons were in the care (1437–42) of the earl of Suffolk's sister, Katherine de la Pole, abbess of Barking, at the king's expense.

Ralph Griffiths, "Tudor, Owen [Owain ap Maredudd ap Tudur] (c. 1400–1461)", Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004, updated 2008)

[une-sanz-pluis]

Eleanor died at Beaumaris on 7 July 1452 and was buried there perhaps in the early-fourteenth-century parish church of St. Mary and St. Nicholas) at great cost to Sir William Beauchamp.* She was certainly alive and in residence in the castle when the duke of York sailed into the harbour, not a stone's throw away, in September 1450. It is hardly surprising that Henry VI and his Household servants should feel great anxiety for the former duchess's safe keeping at a time when disturbing rumours of Duke Richard's intentions were reaching the ears of the king. * Beauchamp received 100 marks to defray the burial costs.

Ralph A. Griffiths, "Richard of York and the Royal Household in Wales, 1449-1450", King and Country: England and Wales in the Fifteenth Century (The Hambleton Press 1991)

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Margaret of Anjou had the most intimate interest in the wedding in 1456 of her kinswoman, Marie, daughter of Charles, count of Maine, to Thomas Courtenay, the son and heir of the earl of Devon. That this was a court-contracted marriage is suggested by the fact that Marie's wedding gown was supplied by the king's Great Wardrobe [...] The second notable marriage of 1457 to be arranged at court was that between the king's cousin, Margaret Beaufort, countess of Richmond, and her third husband, Henry Stafford, second son of the duke of Buckingham. This additional bond among the king's blood relatives buttressed the Lancastrian regime and the royal family at a time when the survival of the dynasty rested on the young shoulders of Prince Edward, the only son and heir of King Henry VI and Queen Margaret.

— Ralph A. Griffiths, "The King's Court during the Wars of the Roses" | King and Country: England and Wales in the Fifteenth Century

It is, indeed, a striking fact that no aristocratic marriages of comparable significance took place outside the court circle in these crucial years before the onset of civil war. Most — if not all — of those that did take place were probably discussed at court among magnates — Staffords, Courtenays, Beauforts, Talbots, Berkeleys, Butlers, Greys and Percies — who were loyal to the house of Lancaster and prominent at King Henry's court.

[richmond-rex]

Edward IV's most urgent need in 1461 was not for experiment which might antagonise his aristocratic allies but for a strong regime that would re-establish order and loyalty in a traditional setting. This was provided by William Herbert, the son of Sir William ap Thomas, 'the Blue Knight of Gwent', and Gwladys Ddu, daughter of the famous Welsh commander, Dafydd Gam, who was killed in Henry V's service at Agincourt. With such an upbringing, it is hardly surprising that Herbert came to inspire devotion from Welsh propagandists, while around him were grouped both family and friends who were enlisted in Edward IV's service as a core of loyal officers. In nine months between May 1461 and February 1462 Herbert gathered into his and his relatives' hands the southern counties of the principality and practically all the southern marcher lordships apart from Glamorgan, Abergavenny and the earldom of March. By 1468 there were few areas in Wales as a whole (Glamorgan is again the principal exception) of which he was not either lord, custodian or principal official. One Welsh poet fittingly described him as 'King Edward's master-lock'.

— Ralph A. Griffiths, "Wales and the Marches in the 15th century" | King and Country: England and Wales in the Fifteenth Century

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I don't know Henry VI very well, so he really does nothing? Margaret of Anjou took the place of the king, and her husband was just a puppet?

The answer to this is somewhat complicated because there's a split between the historians (K. B. MacFarlane, John Watts) who see Henry VI as incapable of ever ruling in his own right and the country was governed by others (the minority council, Suffolk, Somerset, Margaret and ultimately York) and the historians (Bertram Woolf, Ralph A. Griffiths) who see Henry VI as ruling in his own right for a stretch of time, albeit as a king who was lacking in judgement though they disagree on when he began ruling on his own. Personally, I think the arguments put forward by Griffiths and Woolf are the most convincing - that there was a stretch of time where Henry was ruling in his own right.

There's also the problem of looking back at Margaret of Anjou through the layers of Yorkist and Tudor narratives that sought to denigrate Margaret and portrayed her as an ambitious woman who subverted the natural order and would not submit to her husband as she ought to, often depicting Henry as a hapless puppet or long-suffering saint. We also know that Margaret remained at liberty when Richard, Duke of York and, later, Edward IV had custody of Henry VI, and was the active threat to their regimes. It was to their benefit to present Margaret as an agent of her own will, not Henry's - especially York, who was presenting himself as a loyal subject forced to rebel to save England from the evils of Henry's bad advisors and later had probably forced Henry disinherit his son and name York and his sons as his heirs. There is some evidence that Henry and Margaret were working together. Apparently there was a special token that only she and Henry knew so she would know if the messages came from Henry himself or were an attempt by the Yorkists to trick her into returning and placing herself and their son into Yorkist hands. This hardly suggests Henry was a hapless puppet who was controlled by his wife or whoever had custody of him, but rather supported Margaret's actions and resisted Yorkist rule in one of a few ways open to him.

[une-sanz-pluis]

What exactly do you think Henry VI thinks of his uncle Humphrey?

I'm glad you said what I think Henry VI thought of his uncle! The personal thoughts of any medieval individual are generally out of reach for us (there are exceptions; for example, we can tell that Henry V was pretty pissed off at his brother, John, Duke of Bedford here). It's even more difficult in the case of Henry VI, where historians have such wildly diverse opinions. The likes of John Watts and K. B. MacFarlane, who view Henry as a void around which kingship in his name was exercised (by his minority council, by his "favourites" Suffolk and Somerset), would probably say that Henry didn't think very much about his uncle or, well, anything. But even looking at the historians (e.g. Ralph Griffiths, Bertram Wolffe and Lauren Johnson) who ascribe to Henry far more agency in his reign will give us vastly different ideas of the relationship between Henry and Humphrey.

Johnson, for examples, depicts Henry as Humphrey's victim, depicting his quarrels with Cardinal Beaufort and his pro-war stance as a source of mental distress for Henry. She also depicts Humphrey as fully complicit in his wife Eleanor's alleged plot against Henry (there is nothing alleged about the plot for Johnson, of course) and arranging for his nephew to be sexually harassed.* For Wolffe, Humphrey is more the victim of a spiteful Henry - for instance, he argues that the treatment of Eleanor was an angry overreaction by Henry, who still bitter that Humphrey opposed his intention to release Charles, Duke of Orleans the previous year.

But what do I think?

Humphrey was pretty obviously a thorn in Henry's side. He seems to have advocated for Henry to get more involved in ruling, even though the circumstances weren't great for an inexperienced king and it appears Henry disliked the experience. As Henry matured, the policies he favoured were frequently in conflict with the policies Humphrey advocated for - as Humphrey often made clear (cf. his actions around the release of Charles, Duke of Orleans). What was often a common thread in Humphrey's chosen policies were that these were Henry V's policies. Humphrey seemed to be simultaneously urging Henry VI to greater independence but insisting that he exercise this independence through following the policies of his father.

It's easy to imagine that this became a sore spot for Henry. It's not nice to be constantly compared to someone else and always be found lacking. It's not nice to be someone who others are trying to shape into someone you're not. The fact that Henry was constantly being compared to his dead father who was becoming heavily mythologised would have only made it worse. It's really easy to imagine Henry coming to resent his father for that and easier still to see him resenting Humphrey who seems to have been the one who stuck at the "your father would've done this, do this, you should be more like your father" the longest.

This advocation of Henry V's policies seems to have led to Humphrey becoming seen as "a man who embodied the qualities Henry V had made them accustomed in a king, and which they were beginning to realize were lacking in their actual king". If Henry believed this too, it may be that he initially found Humphrey to be an intimidating, but not necessarily dangerous, figure - the embodiment of the qualities he was supposed to have, the representative of his father. Even if he didn't share the same view of Humphrey's qualities, Humphrey was, alongside John Duke of Bedford, the closest paternal blood relation Henry VI had and the one Henry saw the most of. He may have seen Humphrey as a threatening figure because of the popular belief that he had the qualities for kingship that Henry himself lacked (though, IMO, he wouldn't have been a good king) and, following Bedford's death in 1435, was Henry VI's heir.

If Henry didn't already view Humphrey as a threat, the accusations of treasonable necromancy against Humphrey's wife Eleanor would have likely made Henry come to that view. Most historians argue that Humphrey ended up estranged from Henry and alienated at court as a result of his wife's downfall. It may be that Henry (and others) suspected Humphrey had been aware of or part of the plot - although there is no evidence that this was ever suspected, much less that Humphrey was involved. At the very least, the accusations suggested that Humphrey was a figure others could see as a king and that he was an untrustworthy figure of poor judgement.**

It's pretty clear that from 1441 on, Humphrey was on the outs with Henry but it doesn't seem to be motivated entirely by fear. Henry made a number of grants in the 1440s of titles that Humphrey held to various people in the event of Humphrey's death (one of the most notable is Suffolk receiving the reversion of the earldom of Pembroke). One chronicle claims that Henry had forbidden his uncle from his presence since 1445 or 1446 and reputedly an armoured guard to fortify himself against his uncle. In 1445, Henry publicly humiliated Humphrey in front of a French embassy (according to Wolffe, the French ambassadors claimed that Henry "openly express[ed] his pleasure at seeing his uncle's discomfiture" at the treaty).

Finally, we have Humphrey's arrest for trumped-charges of treason*** and death in 1447. At the very least, Henry must have been aware and approved of the intention to arrest his uncle. Possibly, as Wolffe concludes, he had decided upon his uncle's "destruction".

We don't know what Henry VI intended to do with Humphrey following his arrest. The popular view at the time was that Suffolk was entirely behind Humphrey's arrest and his intention was Humphrey's murder, which was duly achieved within days of his arrest. It's not impossible that Suffolk was blamed because blaming Henry himself skirted too close to treason. It is pretty well accepted these days that Humphrey was not murdered and died as a result of a medical episode (such as a stroke or heart attack) caused by the stress of his arrest. But we have no idea about how Henry intended to deal with Humphrey, whether he intended to exile, execute, quietly murder or ultimately pardon Humphrey, and whether he was actively and knowingly involved in the plot against Humphrey and to what extent he was involved. Still, at the very least, we know that he approved of Humphrey's arrest and waited until the very last minute to pardon those who were to be executed for their part in Humphrey's so-called plot (iirc, they were literally hanging on the gallows when the pardon arrived). Amongst those pardoned was Humphrey's only known albeit illegitimate son, Arthur.

What is odd is that Humphrey seems to have been no threat to Henry. He may have disagreed with Henry on policy but there is nothing to indicate that his loyalty to Henry was ever in doubt. There is no suggestion he attempted to intervene to save Eleanor or that he planned to remove Suffolk from Henry's side. He did not head up an alternate court party similar to the Lords Ordainers or the Lords Appellant in the reigns of Edward II and Richard II respectively that saw him overthrow and execute Henry's favourites to impose his own will on Henry. Nor is there any evidence he intended to depose Henry to make himself king. As John Watts says, "if there is a single theme in the duke's career, it is one of obedience to Henry's personal authority [...] Faced with the destruction of his wife, a series of threats to his property and, finally, a thoroughly dubious charge of treason, Gloucester was unresisting."

Looking at the the various grants made by Henry of his uncle's titles and lands when he was still-living and the speed at which Humphrey's lands were granted out at his death (including the declaration that Eleanor Cobham was legally dead so she could not claim dower or jointure in the properties), it seems Humphrey had more to fear from his nephew (or those acting in Henry's name) than Henry had to fear from Humphrey. But it's easy to say that with the benefit of hindsight.

In short: I think Humphrey was a thorn in Henry's side, at first representing everything Henry wasn't and frequently disappointed in Henry. He advocated for policies that were frequently the opposite of the policies Henry wanted. He may have been viewed by Henry as a threat but by the mid-1440s seems to have viewed as someone of no importance, who could be publicly humiliated, and who would not fight back against his nephew. His arrest and death are strange but may be signs of resentment or fear by an insecure government and king.

* John Blacman's hagiography of Henry VI contains a scene where an unidentified "certain great lord" arranged for a troupe of female dancers to dance topless before Henry, who then angrily averts his eyes and leaves the chamber. The term used by Blacman to describe the dancers ("mulierculae") is more suggestive of prostitutes though the standard translation by M. R. James calls them "young ladies". Johnson claims that the "certain great lord" was Humphrey. Blacman is our sole source for this incident and does not identify the "certain great lord" and was trying to position Henry as a saint, for whom chastity was a chief requirement. As Katherine J. Lewis points out, the incident is part of a longstanding tradition in saints' lives where they resist sexual temptation (she also notes an "almost identical" episode in Caxton's life of St. Benedict) so it seems very doubtful that this incident actually occurred. Even if it was a truthful record, we have no way of knowing who the "certain great lord" was. Possibly, it was Humphrey but we have no way of determining it. It may be useful to note, too, that there is little evidence that Henry's piety was as strong as later traditions suggest.

** Contemporary sources made no suggestion of Humphrey's guilt, complicity in or knowledge of the plot. Although exculpatory, this made him appear a weak and emasculated figure whose unsound judgement had nearly brought ruin to his king and who could not control his wife or own household. Some modern historians have suggested he was complicit in or aware of the plot, but there is no evidence of this (the existence of the plot itself and Eleanor's guilt therein has been doubted explicitly since Tudor times). We have no idea what Henry, personally, made of the accusations. Johnson suggests he was frightened by Eleanor but given he was living in the same residence as she was imprisoned in at the height of the affair (literally when she was performing her penance walks) and one source claimed he intervened to save her life personally, it seems unlikely he was that frightened.

*** The exact charges against Humphrey are not known. However, the general consensus at the time and of subsequent chroniclers was that there was nothing in them, a consensus followed by historians.

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In this connection, it is fitting to recall Dr Ralph A. Griffiths’ suggestion that the marriage of Edmund Tudor and Margaret Beaufort may have been arranged in 1453 — at a time when Henry VI was still childless — with the possibility of a child of the union succeeding to the throne very much in mind. Was Dafydd Nanmor merely chancing his prophetic arm, or was he reflecting contemporary awareness of the dynastic intentions that may have underlay the marriage of Henry’s parents? Whatever the answer, it is clear, however, that Henry’s career as the darling of prophecy had already begun.

— Gruffydd Aled Williams, The Bardic Road to Bosworth: A Welsh View of Henry Tudor