After his coronation, the rest of Richard’s brief reign seems anticlimactic. He made a serious effort to govern, and to govern well, though we can see that the legacy of his irregular accession meant that more than the usual load of problems would have to be met. In the autumn of 1483 his close ally (and cousin) the duke of Buckingham rebelled—a mysterious affair, and one that ended without a battle but with Buckingham’s execution. After this Richard always seemed to be playing defense; the ripples of discontent spread, and men of importance fled the realm to join the growing band of supporters of Henry Tudor in Brittany. Others just held still, waiting to see if the new king could assert himself. Richard worked to do so, but he succeeded only in part by placing too much reliance on trusted retainers he brought down from the north. The north seemed an alien world to many in London and the south, and these men were outsiders, lacking ties to the local community and with strange accents and distant family networks.
Richard III did work hard in the time he had. He traveled extensively—a traditional method of making the monarch known to his people, of building local alliances, and of over-awing dissidents and would-be rebels. The Parliament that met in January 1484 confirmed his title to the crown by issuing “Titulus Regius,” in which his virtues and legitimacy were heralded. Parliament also proscribed and attainted those who had fallen during his rise to power and during Buckingham’s rebellion, and its members worked with him to address serious questions of finance and law that Edward IV had been inclined to avoid. He was voted the usual customs duties; his need for money was extremely pressing, coming as he did on the heels of an extravagant court and possibly of some Woodville looting of royal resources. Richard emphasized his desire to see that justice was evenhanded, lecturing to the judges and local officials on this matter and talking against the excesses of “bastard feudalism.” He worked to maintain the truce with Scotland, making life along the northern borders both safer and, from his view, less expensive. He was of two minds about how to deal with Brittany, where Henry Tudor was building the force that would support his invasion. Should he treat Brittany as an ally and thereby convince its duke to isolate his “guest,” or should he use the naval and economic clout of a hostile power to warn the duke of England’s wrath, were Henry Tudor to continue to be well received and protected? Henry’s landing on the Welsh coast on August 7, 1485, ended this dilemma (as it would Richard’s reign).
In various ways the fortune that had favored Richard when he took the throne now deserted him. His young son, made prince of Wales and thereby proclaimed as the “official” heir to the crown, died in April 1484. Richard’s queen, Anne, long in failing health, followed their son in March 1485: “Anne my wife has bid the world good night,” as Shakespeare has him say. Rumors held that he had poisoned her, though tuberculosis was a good deal more likely the cause, as Anne and Richard seem to have had a harmonious relationship. Further rumors held that Richard was now contemplating marriage with Edward IV’s eldest daughter, Elizabeth, legitimate or not but clearly his blood-niece. Supposedly there was such public outcry against the idea of an incestuous royal marriage that he had to indicate that no such scheme was planned (whether it had been or not). Richard was still only 32, and he needed an heir to his throne (as well as a queen). Various important nobles whose support was crucial were proving less than trustworthy. He needed money very badly. We do not know how he would have dealt with the problems, because his end came quickly, and—given that the odds favored Richard against Henry Tudor when battle was engaged—rather unexpectedly.
It came at the battle of Bosworth, fought there or in some nearby location (Ambion Hill) on August 22, 1485. As with many medieval (and modern) battles, details of the decisive day are unclear. Richard came to the field with the larger force, but he knew that Lord Stanley was unreliable (because he was married to Henry Tudor’s mother). To balance this uncertainty, Richard took Stanley’s son as hostage, hoping thereby to ensure the father’s support (though it never was forthcoming). The earl of Northumberland arrived with impressive northern forces but proved reluctant to enter the battle on his king’s behalf, whereas the aged duke of Norfolk died fighting for Richard on what turned out to be the losing side. Richard, a soldier of some experience, was given full credit by all commentators, even the most hostile, for having fought bravely. When he was finally struck down, the crown he lost, literally, was retrieved from a thorn bush and placed on Henry Tudor’s head. Little honor for losers; Richard’s naked body was slung across a horse and taken to Leicester for an ignominious burial in the abbey there. When the monasteries were suppressed in the 1530s, his remains were dug up and scattered, his monument demolished. Defeat and public ignominy combined to deny him the royal burial site that even other failed kings ultimately received: John, at Worcester Cathedral; Edward II, at Saint Peter’s Abbey in Gloucester; Richard II, at Chertsey Abbey and then reburied with his first queen in Westminster Abbey; and Henry VI, at Chertsey and then at Windsor, where he continues his long rest.
The cliche that the death of Richard and the accession of the Tudors (who lasted until Elizabeth I died in 1603) mark the end of an era seems to hold true. In textbooks, in the classroom, and in popular writing and even movies and TV docudramas, the year of Henry VII’s accession is still venerated as the dividing line between the (later) Middle Ages and the beginning of (early) modern English history. The year 1485 stands as a major historical watershed. We bury Richard, his dynasty and family, and his era, leaving the rest to legend, to historical controversy, and to the various tastes and partisan positions of a large public that continues to probe the many questions about the man and his doings, all in search of answers that we can say with confidence are never going to be found.
World History
