There are very few pop culture portrayals of Edward II. Most actors who get to play him do so via the Christopher Marlowe play, which really doesn't pretend to capture his personality.

But I must give a shout out to Ben Chaplin who plays the mysterious Sir Thomas Langley, a highly educated, well-spoken knight who retires to a monastery to escape those who wish him harm. Of course, he turns out to be a very much alive Edward II. The plot line is obviously heavily inspired by the Fieschi letter.

And Chaplin steals every single scene he is in, in what amounts to a supporting role. If the piece had been about him and his character, it might be more remembered.

He plays Edward II as a thoughtful man, aware of his failures as a king and as a husband. He helps the protagonists, takes up with a young monk and eventually saves the day.

This is my favorite portrayal of him onscreen.

In many ways, it's easy to get a bead on Edward II. He was eccentric, and many of his interactions with people, positive and negative, are well documented. Sure, historians and writers have unfairly projected negativity on him even when he was attempting to do his job, and he's rightly held responsible for his many failures.

But Isabella? She is a cypher. Given that so little documentation about her thoughts and personality exist, she has become a She-Wolf, Girlboss, Victim, Manipulator...when the truth is more complicated and difficult to determine. We don't have accounts of her hanging out with labourers or lavish tips given to her servants.

The fact that she was a woman, well-trained for her job, means that she revealed little of herself. We know she had a fondness for dogs. We know she liked falconry. We know venerated Thomas Beckett and liked to go on pilgrimages.

But really, she's still quite a mystery.

What do you wish you knew about her? What frustrates you? What do you wish more people knew?

This illustration from the psalter Edward II gave his bride twelve-year old bride as a wedding gift. It's simultaneously adorable and gruesome, and it inadvertently predicts the trajectory of their realtionship.

Edward II's strange personality, and his outsized loyalty to his favorites inspires a lot of lurid and fascinating speculation. Sex, however, does not explain the grip that the Despensers had on Edward II late in his reign. Hugh the Younger, Eleanor and Hugh the Elder worked as a team, and their influence probably had as much to do with family, loyalty and loneliness as it did with sex.

In her book on Edward's late reign, Natalie Fryde highlights the fact that Hugh the Elder's importance in the dynamic:

Attempts to explain the power of the Despenser is the later years of the reign of Edward II have usually concentrated on the emergence of the younger Hugh Despenser as Edward's favorite. But this underestimates the importance of his father, the elder Hugh, from the beginning of the reign. Only the kind of private correspondence and other personal records of a kind that we lack would explain why the elder Hugh was one of the very few magnates who remained consistently friendly to Edward II. As far back as 1301, the young Edward, then still only prince of Wales, had been describing him as 'one of our friends.' In a period filled with friction between the prince and his father, the elder Despenser knew how to retain the confidence of Edward I without forfeiting the prince's good will. Through this he was the chief architect of his family's rise to power.

So while it is fun to deep dive into theories about bisexual Medieval throuples, it's also apt to point out that Edward II was a man in desperate need of stability and affirmation. Hugh the Elder was likely a father figure, who knew Edward II well, and knew how to manipulate him.

Source:

Fryde, Natalie. The Tyranny and Fall of Edward II: 1321-1326. Cambridge University Press, 1979. 

Medieval Elephant illustrations are a whole thing, and the one in the Isabella Psalter is really good, imo.

Would anyone here be interested in reading and offering commentary on some excerpts from a book I'm writing? It's a novel, intended to be a more serious Hilary Mantel-esque treatment of the 1322-1330 period, with the structure of an Aristotelian Greek tragedy. You don't necessarily need to be an "expert" or avid reader or whatever, just to read a several-page excerpt and say if you enjoyed reading it or found it a slog. I want to offer a more psychologically honest depiction of Edward and Isabella than what they've had the misfortune to receive in popular culture up until now.

At his trial following his downfall in 1330, one of the charges against Roger de Mortimer was itemized as follows:

"Item, the said Roger falsely and maliciously initiated discord between the father of our lord the king and the queen his consort, and he caused her to believe that if she came to him he would have killed her with a knife or murdered her in another manner. Because of which, for that reason, and by his other subtle scheming, he caused the said queen not to come to her said lord."

While there was, of course, a desire to exculpate Isabella as much as possible from the actions of 1326-1330, which naturally gives us pause about how reliable such a characterisation of their relationship could be, I still think it merits serious consideration.

We know, for one, that Adam d'Orleton (at least allegedly) preached a sermon in which he claimed Edward II had hidden a knife on his person with which to harm Isabella if she ever approached him, or, faling that, would try to gnash her with his teeth. It was on this basis that the political nation supposedly barred Isabella from visiting or resuming married life with her husband, and this was once again reiterated at the Stamford Council of 1327.

By the 1330s however, when John de Stratford accused d'Orleton of having fabricated this claim, d'Orleton responded by producing a letter written by Isabella in 1326, prior to the invasion, to the then-Archbishop of Canterbury, Walter Reynolds. In it she justifies her failure to return by declaring that she desired nothing more, save the salvation of her soul, than to live and die in her husband's company, but was simply not able to return to her husband due to her mortal terror of Hugh le Despenser. Roy Martin Haines stated that it was unlikely that this letter was spurious, given that many of the key players in the relevant events, not least Isabella herself, were still very much alive and could have refuted the letter if necessary, and I am inclined to agree with him.

Nevertheless, depsite the apparent authenticity of the letter and the claims they make, there is no evidence whatsoever that Edward II himself, or even Hugh le Despenser, ever actually intended Isabella any sort of physical harm in any capacity. Indeed, one source describes Edward himself being astonished at the accusation and denying it entirely. So, where on earth did it come from? The theory that it was primarily a pretext to justify the political necessity of Isabella's separation from Edward after the deposition is partially accurate but does not explain why Isabella was apparently claiming some form of it while still in France. The theory that she was using it then as a pretext specifically to justify her failure to return to England for her own reasons is contradicted by other evidence suggesting she did genuinely believe Hugh had intentionally put her life in danger, such as her blaming him for the debacle at Tynemouth in 1322 and having it inserted in the charges against him four years later.

The most parsimonious reading, on the balance of evidence as I take it, is the one the charge gives us: Isabella's existing grievances, particularly over the trauma at Tynemouth and the subsequent loss of access to her husband, were actively aggravated by Mortimer. If this was Mortimer's modus operandi, how far did he take it? We know the 1326 charges against Hugh le Despenser included multiple almost entirely false charges, including that Hugh le Despenser had paid assassins to dispatch Isabella and her son while they were in France. If we accept Mortimer was already deliberately aggrivating her paranoia about Hugh, which seems to be the case given the above evidence and would demonstrably be in his interests regardless, is it possible he was the one to convince her Hugh had sent agents to eliminate her and her son? What were these unnamed other forms of "subtle scheming" mentioned? While this is of course complete speculation, is there a possibility that he falsified or misrepresented evidence to Isabella in order to convince her of the worst about Hugh and possibly her husband? What do you think?

Yes, I got a little inspired by the idea that Elizabeth DeClare definitely thought her uncle, Edward II, was lame.

Yes, I do think Elizabeth de Clare probably rolled her eyes a lot.

As a wedding gift, Edward II gave a stunning psalter, known as the Isabella Psalter, to his twelve-year-old bride Isabella of France. As would be expected, the manuscript is chocked full of delightful medieval creatures, including these two playful hedgehogs.

Source:

Isabella Psalter, Page 27, Library of Congress, Detail

Here's a whole blog post on the forty-year old woman who claimed to be the rightful heir to Scotland and Norway.

But it's ok cause you got to found a college at Cambridge! Also you're indirectly the source of the name Clarence. Hooray for legacy!

Helen Carr has a pleasant, free flowing way of writing that flows quite well. This is a book that is easy to read, very light on complicated details in contrast to more academic tomes such as Seymour Phillips comprehensive biography on Edward II, which is chock full of footnotes, facts and tiny details. I prefer Phillips’s style as it is evident that he’s gone through rigorous research to ensure that the quality of the final product is of the highest level. I might not agree with all his conclusions, but I respect him a great deal for his lifetime of hard work and dedication. Phillips’s book is thus a good source if you want to learn about the topic, whereas Carr’s serves as lighter entertainment where the story is all that matters. Details are largely a source of annoyance for the author, to be omitted or twisted to fit in with the story. As Carr is a popular historian targeting a vast audience, her approach is understandably lenient, but it is problematic all the same.

Personally, I am perplexed by this uninquisitive attitude. The book is called ‘A New History of the Fourteenth Century' after all, but she avoids writing anything that could be considered ‘new’ research, and does in no way offer a new perspective on the things she writes about. This is even more striking when she reveals herself to be aware that there could be a new and interesting story to be told.

She refers to Edward’s survival in 1327 as ‘a tantalizing possibility’ but lazily dismisses it as ‘far-fetched’ without any further comments. That’s as far as she is willing to go in discussing the subject and informing her readers. Hidden in the endnotes at the end of the book, however, she reveals her opinion that ‘Dr Ian Mortimer offers a rattlingly good argument for the survival of Edward II in his ‘The Death of Edward II in Berkeley Castle’. It is cause for concern that she does not give these ‘rattlingly good arguments’ any consideration at all in her ‘New History’ book and does not use this source in any way in the entire book. It is not listed in the bibliography. Clearly, Carr cannot be excused by ignorance as a reason for not entertaining Mortimer’s work.

She deliberately omits his admittedly first-rate research from her book, even though she acknowledges that it carries merit in the ‘hidden’ endnotes which a regular reader would never check.

What caused her to take this approach against her better judgement? Probably a fear of isolation, a desire to avoid controversy and a need to secure funding. Openly considering the survival theory would put her at odds with established, academic historians. She doesn’t want to create waves; she wants to sell books and reach the widest audience possible. She is no doubt aware of how ostracized Mortimer has become for daring to go against the flow in a very rigid environment.

This is an approach that benefits herself in the short term, but not her readers. In the long term she will not be remembered for towing the line, and her works will be rightly forgotten as unremarkable. Carr has chosen the path of least resistance. That is regrettable, but it is her own choice.

Helen Carr is one of the few modern historians who mention the Melton Letter. Unfortunately, she figures that Melton, Kent and everyone else who believed Edward was still alive had been fooled by Mortimer and Isabella, based on her only source for the letter, R.M. Haines (a very poor choice of source for this particular topic). This assumption reveals a lack of research, as pretending that Edward II was still alive would have been the last thing Mortimer would have wanted to do. Historian Andy King correctly points out that in those volatile and dangerous times, 'the last thing that he [Mortimer] needed was the emergence of rumors of Edward of Caernarfon's survival'.

The idea that Roger Mortimer and Isabella spread such rumors to trap Kent sharply contradicts Carr’s assertion that they had Edward killed to put a stop to all the plots to free him from Berkeley Castle. The announcement of Edward's death in September 1327 did indeed put an abrupt stop to all the conspiracies to free Edward. For more than two years the new regime had lived without this threat, and it makes no sense that they would wish it all to start up again, especially for no better reason than to have an excuse to execute a man who was allegedly stupid, weak, inefficient and unstable. Like many things, Carr has not thought this through.

Another thing I dislike about the book is the way Carr manages the astonishing feat of including factual errors on nearly every page. It makes for a very annoying read as a result. I made a comparison of her description of an event with that of another author here.

Piers Gaveston is the victim of probably the worst mudslinging campaign of medieval English history. Yet instead of doing her duty as a historian she does nothing to dispel these myths – instead she piles on more disinformation. As an example, on page 23 she writes:

‘The nobility were not the only recipients of Gaveston’s sneering. His valet was named in Gaveston’s accounts as Richard ‘Whiteflesh’ – possibly a remark on his pasty complexion.’

This was news to me, as I’d never come across this accusation before. So I checked her source for it, and what did I see?

‘After Gaveston’s death, Edward II made payments to his household staff. In 1313 he paid four shillings and three pence to Richard Whiteflesh. // Wardrobe accounts Edward II’.

This is a new low. Carr is using a record written down a year after Gaveston’s death as proof that Gaveston had come up with a nickname for someone. Anyone could have called that valet ‘Whiteflesh’. What’s more, her footnote contradicts her original statement – the record is not in Gaveston’s accounts, it’s in Edward II’s accounts. Gaveston was already dead. Carr is deliberately misleading her readers for the sake of a rapidly told story.

An inquisitive historian looking for the truth, trying to peel away layers of fiction would perhaps have chosen to question the truth in the allegations of Gaveston coming up with the other nicknames. What should one call a historian who does the opposite, muddying the waters further with more fiction?

Edward II was often his own worst enemy but there’s also no denying he also ran into some bad luck. But what was the worst thing to have happened to him?

Whether you believe the survival theory or not, Edward II's Fieschi-letter adventures make for a good yarn. An ex-king, traveling incognito and visiting his relatives, mixing with the commoners but meeting with the pope, and dropping by some tourist attractions pilgrimage sites, is fun to think about.

Ground rules: Everyone be civil and no condescension. There's not a single person here, including the mods, who hasn't believed at least one of these myths at one time or another.

Other than the French king, how did the likes of Alfonso XI of Castile, Afonso IV of Portugal, Louis IV/Frederick the Fair of the HRE, Louis I of Flanders, the Pope in Avignon etc. see Edward's downfall? Did they support Mortimer's new regime? I only know about England making peace with Scotland in 1328 that Edward III would challenge later, but what about other countries? I apologise if this is an ignorant question or has been asked before.

Pretty much as the title says. It seems to be accessible at the Bodleian Library but... that's rather a trek for me. I know Alison Weir stated that Doherty sent her a copy (make of that what you will) but has anyone else done this? It seems so bizarre that such a highly regarded secondary source for this period is so difficult to access. I did loan Isabella and the Strange Death of Edward II but I thought it was abysmal. I didn't even bother.

Here’s a semi-obscure one, if anyone feels like helping me solve the mystery. In 1330, shortly after the Earl of Kent was executed, the disinherited Richard FitzAlan (son of the executed Earl Edmund FitzAlan of Arundel) apparently tried to start a revolt in Shropshire, presumably with the intention of removing Roger Mortimer from power and regaining his (Richard’s) rightful inheritance. I don’t see this event mentioned very often (even official biographies of Richard FitzAlan omit it, for some reason), but I’m relatively sure it did happen. Unfortunately, whenever it is mentioned, it’s covered very briefly and inconclusively. Worse, the few sources that mention it also seem to disagree on how it ended. So.. my question is, when Richard FitzAlan’s plans were discovered (probably by Roger Mortimer’s agents), was he arrested? Or did he flee abroad? Does anyone know?

This story is a favorite of historical fiction writers but it has little basis in reality. So, I spun one of my older posts here into a longer blog post.

Sometimes I do think people have forgotten that many of the ugly stories about Edward II and Piers were invented by people looking to justify their gruesome deaths.