336
pages, Pegasus, ISBN-13: 978-1605985756
He
did it. Richard III murdered his nephews and seized the throne for himself,
only to be subsequently overthrown in his turn by the Welsh adventurer Henry
VII a mere two years later. However, popular veneration of this tyrant remains
a curious phenomenon. One would have thought that the Great Debate had been
brought as near to conclusion as it ever can be, for while it is generally
accepted that Richard of Gloucester was a capable and enlightened
administrator, a loyal lieutenant to his more brilliant elder brother King
Edward IV, as King himself he was ruthless and unbending (just ask his nephews).
Most people discount the charges brought by Sir Thomas More, and Shakespeare as
an historian is an iffy proposition, at best, and the ultimate fate of the
Princes in the Tower has been established with as much certainty as can be, even
in spite of the circumstantial evidence against their uncle. Yet Ricardians
continue to rush to the defense of their hero as if he were still under fire
from entrenched Whiggery, and in consequence anti-Ricardians continue to
attack. Desmond Seward originally wrote Richard
III: England’s Black Legend in 1983 as a convert to the anti-Ricardians
cause; for a long time, he tells us, he believed passionately in Richard’s
innocence of the crimes alleged against him. Only intense study of the sources
convinced him that the “Black Legend” represented the fundamental truth about
the man.
The
Richard that emerges from his pages is a more interesting figure than the
plaster saint that Ricardians would like us to adore, for in Seward’s eyes Richard
was the complete Renaissance tyrant, a precursor of Machiavelli who stuck at
nothing to achieve his ends, “the most terrifying man ever to occupy the
English throne, not excepting his great nephew Henry VIII”. He learned from his
formidable brother the value of murder as a political instrument and used it
unsparingly when the time came to fulfil his dynastic ambitions. Seward does
not hesitate to pin the killing of the princes firmly on the shoulders of the
man who alone had the means, motive and opportunity for the crime. Not that his
ruthlessness was without its weak side. Richard, Seward holds, was a bad judge
of character, putting his trust in men who had every reason to betray him. He
suffered spiritual agonies in his somber moods, endowing religious houses on a
massive scale and providing for a multitude of masses for his own victims. His
sense of guilt and the intensity of his nature wrought havoc with his nerves and
led him to violent extremes (much of this can be sensed in his portrait; while
one must not make too much of likenesses at a time when this form of art was
inadequately developed, the fact is the face of Edward IV, considered
exceptionally handsome, appears to us pasty and insipid, while Richard’s shows
intellect, sensitivity and the sufferings of a tormented soul).
With
the advent of the Tudors the blackening of Richard’s reputation began in
earnest, with Thomas More and William Shakespeare the principle instruments. Exaggeration
brought reaction, and in James I’s reign Sir George Buck undertook a spirited
defense of Richard, preparing the way for the heavier guns fired in the 18th
Century by Horace Walpole, with whose “Historic Doubts” the Great Debate really
got under way. Before the end of that century Walpole’s doubts were echoed by
such celebrated amateurs as John Wesley and Jane Austen, but in the 19th
Century the debate rose to a higher plane with the entry into the lists of
professional academics armed with detailed original research, with John Lingard
and James Gairdner coming forward as supporters of the Tudor view of Richard’s
villainy, whose judgment was reinforced by the exhumation of the supposed bones
of Edward V and his brother in 1933. But in 1955 new life was given to the Ricardians
by Paul Murray Kendall, an American historian who left the question of the murder
of the princes open but whose defense of Richard’s character was reasoned,
temperate and scholarly. Once again the last word seems to have been spoken, but
the Great Debate goes on; indeed, what the JFK assassination is to Americans,
the murder of the Princes in the Tower is to the English, and so long as the credulous draw breath, there will be no end to either debate.
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