The Last Days of Richard III and the Fate of His DNA

by John Ashdown-Hill

  In addition to this religious timetable (horarium), Richard’s life was conditioned by the secular timetable of a regular daily routine. It is possible that the passage of time was marked in his palaces by the bells and hour hands of weight-driven clocks. The king’s distant cousin, John Howard, Duke of Norfolk, certainly possessed one.7 Five hundred years or more ago there would probably have been some important differences in the hours of rising and going to bed, and also in the matter of mealtimes. In exploring this point, we must remember that, even today, there can be quite significant differences between individuals and households regarding times of rising and going to bed, and in respect of mealtimes – not to mention the names given to different meals, and the kinds of food that compose them. It would not be unreasonable to anticipate that similar variations also existed in the past. Any attempt to impose uniformity upon the fifteenth-century daily routine is, therefore, probably doomed to failure. Modern authorities on late medieval meals and mealtimes have certainly produced quite a variety of different models for the supposedly typical everyday timetable of fifteenth-century England. The apparent discrepancies may well reflect genuine variations in the fifteenth-century source material. There is no reason to suppose that the daily round of a particular individual or family was any more stereotypical in the late Middle Ages than it is today. Yet despite probable individual variations, it is perhaps possible to suggest in broad terms some ways in which the fifteenth-century routine differed from that of the present day.

  In accordance with the precepts of the Medical School of Salerno, the twelfth-century Italian poet, John of Milan, had advised: ‘rise at 5, dine at 9, sup at 5, retire at 9, for a long life’.8 His recommended times of rising and going to bed are both probably a good deal earlier than would be considered normal by the majority of the population nowadays. We may also observe that John made no mention of breakfast. This was not merely an Italian peculiarity, for in early medieval England too, breakfast seems to have been virtually non-existent. Even today, not everyone takes breakfast. However, by the fifteenth century it does seem to have become the accepted practice in at least some English households to break one’s fast early in the day. Late medieval breakfast was a modest meal, so that ‘to be able to have merely a “sop in wine” (bread or toast soaked in wine) every day for one’s morning repast was considered luxurious’.9 The ‘full English breakfast’ now apparently regarded as traditional in hotels and guest houses, was as yet unheard of in the fifteenth century.

  Peter Hammond has concluded from his research that the better-off fifteenth-century peasants probably consumed three meals a day, comprising an early breakfast, dinner at 9.00 or 10.00 am, and supper eaten before nightfall (and thus perhaps as early as 3.00 pm in winter). Sixteenth-century writers certainly seem to have considered three meals a day to be reasonable – though some authorities have argued that breakfast was only eaten by children and workmen. The household accounts of Dame Alice de Bryene at the beginning of the fifteenth century, assume that breakfast will be provided for all, ‘though the 1478 household ordinance of Edward IV specifies that only residents down to the rank of squire should have breakfast, except by special order. Edward, Prince of Wales, son of Edward IV, breakfasted after morning mass. The time was only specified as a convenyent hower, although to break one’s fast after devotions was the generally recommended procedure.’10 It would certainly have been considered inappropriate in the fifteenth century (or indeed at any time up until the second half of the last century) for any faithful Catholic to break his or her fast before going to mass, if he or she intended to participate fully in the liturgy and take Holy Communion, since the Church’s regulations stipulated that the night fast should not be broken prior to receiving Communion.11

  Other writers have suggested that by the fifteenth century, slightly later mealtimes than those proposed by Hammond were becoming the norm. ‘Meal times in Britain have varied greatly over the years. In the fourteenth century breakfast was taken at five; dinner at nine and supper at four. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries breakfast had advanced to seven; dinner eleven and supper six. Towards the end of the sixteenth century dinner advanced to midday.’12 Hammond has already suggested that the supper hour may have been determined by the onset of darkness. This being so, the availability of artificial lighting may well have played some part in the choice of times, particularly during the winter months. A wealthy establishment such as the royal household would have been in a position to sup as late as six o’clock if it wished, even during the winter months, since it would have enjoyed ready access to artificial means of lighting.

  The onset and disappearance of daylight may not have been the only considerations:

  For the Medieval physician the justification for mealtimes involved in part a perception that one felt healthier if one ate only when one became hungry. To eat, therefore, before a previous meal had made its way completely out of the stomach was declared to be a most dangerous practice. Given that the average ‘modern’ digestive system seems comfortably able to handle only two substantial meals in a day, and given that the professional cook was required to lay on nothing less than substantial meals, the two-meal pattern remained the norm for most of Medieval Europe.13

  Terrence Scully has argued that:

  breakfast, at first a concession, of an unseemly if not totally dissolute sort, became seen as less disgraceful to the extent that it was just an immaterial trifle. The license was justified – an excess, which strict Medieval morality might judge to be a variety of sin – by designing it on the one hand either to give the peasant and craftsman something to sustain their morning’s labour, or, on the other, in the case of the aristocrat, merely to hold hunger awhile in abeyance until a meal that was really worthy of his or her status could be prepared. We find the morning collation justified in particular in the case of the aristocrat who was forced so often to be on the road visiting the various outlying parts of his estate, but who was unwilling to set out at daybreak on an empty stomach.14

  Scully goes on to suggest that typical breakfast foods may have been quite wide-ranging, including: ale, beer or wine; preserved fish of various kinds; bread or toast (possibly soaked in wine); cheese and beef. If so, the choice between meat, fish and ‘white meat’ (cheese and eggs) will have been largely determined by the liturgical calendar. Meat could not be eaten on Fridays (nor, in more religious households, on certain other days), and during the season of Lent both meat and ‘white meats’ were completely forbidden. As for the choice between the more homely ale (brewed without hops) or beer (brewed with hops), and imported wine, that presumably was largely conditioned by the affluence of the household, though personal preference may also have played some part. Thus (although this specific reference is not to breakfast) the household accounts of John Howard (later Duke of Norfolk) seem to indicate that Howard himself preferred wine, while his second wife, Margaret Chedworth, was fond of ale or beer.15

  In the middle and upper echelons of society the daytime meal (‘dinner’) and the evening meal (‘supper’) both seem to have consisted of a number of courses, each course comprising many dishes. Surviving menus from late fourteenth-century France appear to indicate that there was little difference between ‘dinner’ and ‘supper’ in terms of the likely size of the meal.16 These sample menus also show that medieval ‘courses’ bore little relationship to the modern conception of this word. Only rarely, for example, does the final course of either meal seem to have comprised exclusively sweet dishes.17

  In the case of Richard III we may tentatively conclude that, being a young and active man with a heavy workload, both as Duke of Gloucester and as king, he probably rose early in the morning. As a religious man he is unlikely to have broken his fast before attending mass in the morning. He probably did so after mass with a light meal, perhaps of bread and watered wine. Generally, he may have dined as late as eleven o’clock in the morning – but possibly a little earlier, and he probably supped at around five or six o’clo
ck in the evening. Evidence from his physical remains shows that he had a diet high in protein, and apparently enjoyed eating marine fish and seafood.

  In wealthy households, cooking was an art, producing complex and elaborate dishes. The English cuisine of the fifteenth century seems to have enjoyed a higher reputation than in subsequent centuries. At all events, in 1500 a Venetian ambassador remarked that the English ‘take great pleasure in having a quantity of excellent victuals, and also in remaining a long time at table, being very sparing of wine when they drink it at their own expense’.18 Possibly one reason why English cooking was more highly regarded at this period was because it was reputedly quite closely modelled upon that of France. One modern assessment considers that effectively ‘there were three basic rules: never do anything simply, keep adding spices and totally obscure the original flavour’.19 Many fifteenth-century recipes survive, and those who wish to attempt to taste the flavours of the period are easily able to experiment with them.20

  On formal occasions, Richard’s courtiers would have been served great banquets. The coronation banquet served in 1420 to Catherine of France (consort of Henry V) gives some idea of such a meal.21 A somewhat similar elaborate banquet is recorded as having been served in the summer of 1483, on the occasion of Richard III and Anne Neville’s coronation. Like the banquet for Queen Catherine, this had comprised three courses, and at Richard’s banquet these courses consisted of fifteen, sixteen and seventeen dishes respectively.22 On such occasions each course often ended with a ‘subtlety’: a sculpture in sugar or marzipan, often based upon a Biblical or mythological theme. Vegetables did not figure prominently in high status fifteenth-century menus, though John, Lord Howard (the future Duke of Norfolk) certainly ate ‘selad’ on occasions.23 At aristocratic and royal tables, ‘trumpets signalled the arrival of a course, and music was played during the feasting, as well as performances being given by dancers, acrobats and others … The serving of food was attended by elaborate ceremony, and preceded by the washing of hands (very necessary since much eating was done with the fingers dipped into communal dishes). The water was sometimes perfumed with rose leaves, thyme, lavender, sage, camomile, marjoram or orange peel, or a combination of these.’24 A grand banquet must surely have been served to Richard III and his court on Sunday 3 April 1485, for this was Easter Sunday, the greatest feast of the year, marking the formal ending of the Lenten diet of abstinence.

  Although by 1485 death had deprived Richard III of all his brothers, of his wife, and of his only legitimate son, he had not been left entirely without family. As we have seen, he took an interest in his nephews and nieces, and also in his illegitimate offspring. Two of his sisters were still alive,25 and although one of them, Margaret, was living in the Low Countries as the dowager Duchess of Burgundy, there is no reason to suppose that Richard was not in touch with her.26 The other sister, Elizabeth, Duchess of Suffolk, was the mother of the young Earl of Lincoln, whom Richard was actively promoting, so it is likely that she too was in regular contact with the king. Richard had lost his father at an early age, and it is perhaps doubtful how well he remembered him.27 His mother was still alive, and seems to have remained always very close to her son. It was the dowager Duchess of York’s London house (Baynard’s Castle) which had been Richard’s headquarters during the difficult summer of 1483 and during the events leading up to his proclamation as king – a move which Cecily Neville had clearly supported. After his accession Richard kept in close contact with his mother, and it is not surprising, therefore, to discover that, in the aftermath of Anne Neville’s death, and at a time when he was actively planning to remarry in the hope of producing an heir to the throne, Richard III went to see the Duchess of York. At an earlier period of her widowhood, Cecily Neville had often resided at Clare Castle in Suffolk when she was not at her London house.28 By 1485, however, she was living in semi-retirement and her principal residence seems to have been Berkhamsted Castle in Hertfordshire. As we shall see later, on Tuesday 17 May Richard paid a visit to his mother at Berkhamsted.29 No doubt he wished to keep her up to date regarding the progress of negotiations for his second marriage.

  On this and other occasions Richard III almost certainly travelled on horseback, as the much older (but hale and hearty) John Howard, Duke of Norfolk, seems normally to have done. Nevertheless, there was a royal carriage available, which had been used by his elder brother, the late king.30 Whether Edward IV had used a carriage for ceremonial reasons, or simply because he had grown fat, unfit and somewhat lazy, it is difficult to say.31 A vehicle which is probably of the same general type as that used by Edward IV is illustrated in the Luttrell Psalter. It has four wheels. The panelled wooden lower part of the body is carved with gothic tracery and was probably brightly painted and gilded. The upper part is covered by what appears to be painted canvas stretched over wooden half hoops. The shape is somewhat similar to that of the wagons used many centuries later in the American west by European settlers, but the canvas of the upper section of the medieval version was stretched taut and, like the base, was brightly painted. The vehicle illustrated in the Luttrell Psalter was drawn by five horses. Richard III may, on occasions, have made use of such a royal carriage.

  Richard III’s homes as king were the various royal palaces, castles and hunting lodges. In the London area these included the royal apartments at the Tower of London, the Royal Wardrobe and the Palace of Westminster, and Richard is known to have resided at different times at all three of these. Not one of them survives today in a form which he would recognise. The Royal (Great, or King’s) Wardrobe is probably the least known of the three, and only the memory of its name is now preserved. It stood to the south-east of St Paul’s Cathedral, at the northern end of St Andrew’s Hill just to the north of St Andrew’s church, having been moved to this site (formerly the mansion of Sir John Beauchamp) in 1360.32 On its eastern side ran Apple Hill, and the Wardrobe was entered from Carter Lane. An enclosed bridge from the building ran across the upper end of St Andrew’s Hill to a walled garden, just behind the Dominican (Blackfriars) Priory. Members of the Yorkist royal family regularly stayed there, including both Edward IV and Richard III. In the summer of 1468 it was from the Wardrobe that Margaret of York set out on her wedding journey to Flanders. The accommodation comprised a great hall with glazed windows, a ‘King’s Hall’, chambers for both the king and the queen, and a chapel, together with kitchens and closets.33 The Wardrobe survived until it was destroyed in the Great Fire of London in 1666, and it is depicted on Elizabethan plans of London.34 During the reign of Edward IV the keeper of the Great Wardrobe, and also of the Privy Palace at Westminster, was Peter Curteys, but he seems to have fled into sanctuary at Westminster Abbey with Elizabeth Woodville and her children, and was accordingly dismissed from both his offices by Richard III at Michaelmas 1483. In his place, Richard appointed Robert Appulby.35

  Elizabethan plans also depict the once extensive royal palace at the Tower of London, which in the late medieval period filled much of the area between the old Norman keep (the White Tower) and the outer walls flanking the River Thames on the southern side of the enclosure. Most of this late medieval royal residence at the Tower is also now destroyed. The old Palace of Westminster occupied more or less the same site as the present Victorian gothic confection, but was a much less grandiose and more higgledy piggledy collection of buildings. In Richard III’s lifetime there was no bridge across the Thames at Westminster. But one could descend via Westminster Stairs to the water on the Westminster side and pick up a boat for the short river crossing, ascending at the other (Lambeth) side, where a second set of steps led up from the Thames just to the north of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s London palace, giving access to the marshland, farmland and open countryside beyond.

  Like the houses of the gentry and aristocracy, the royal palaces will have been adorned with tapestries. It is known, for example, that in 1480 Edward IV had acquired ‘two peces of arras of the story of Paris and Elyn’ as a gift from his si
ster, the Duchess of Burgundy.36 He also acquired ‘a curtyne of paled verdour rede and blue with riban of grene threde and rynges of latone’.37 Verder(s) was tapestry decorated with foliage and flowers, but without human figures. This particular royal curtain was evidently composed of two strips of verders, one basically red, and the other basically blue, sewn together side by side to make up a hanging in the royal livery colours of the house of York. It was hemmed with green ribbon, and hung from brass curtain rings. It is perhaps worth observing at this point that notions of matching colour schemes seem to have had little or no place in the taste of the fifteenth century, either in matters of furnishing or in matters of dress. In both clothing and in interior decoration the whole gamut of varied and bright colours seems to have been combined.

  At about the same time as acquiring the Paris and Helen tapestries, Edward IV had also obtained two new spervers (sets of bed hangings). These were apparently for members of the royal family, and either or both sets may well have still been in use in Richard III’s household in 1485. One of Edward’s canopies was made of red, green and white striped velvet, while the second was of white and blue velvet, per pale,38 and lined with black buckram. Both sets of hangings comprised a tester, seler and valances. White and blue were the livery colours of the house of Burgundy, so it is possible that the set of blue and white bed hangings had been ordered for the king’s sister, Margaret, Duchess of Burgundy, to use on the occasion of her visit to England in 1480. The seler was the bed canopy itself. The tester was the matching curtain, which hung down from the canopy at the head of the bed, and the valance was the matching fringe of cloth hanging down around the sides of the bed. There were also side and foot curtains, which could be drawn at night to enclose the royal bed. These curtains were made of sarcenet, which was a much lighter-weight fabric. The curtains, the seler and the valance were all decorated with multicoloured silk fringes.39