On Tuesday 5 March, I published an article in the
New Statesman about some information I unearthed regarding a visit Richard III
made to Canterbury early in 1484. The King was described in the city accounts as
having stayed there on his way to, and on the way back from, the port of
Sandwich. The visit had already been identified by a previous scholar, Anne F
Sutton, although I had previously seen little other non-fictional material on
it. The Victoria County History series, as well as local historian Tim
Tatton-Brown, mentioned that Richard stayed in a tent at Blene le Hale. Edward
Hasted refers to it as the Tentorium Tent or Pavilion in the Blean. He also
relates that in 1481, Edward IV made his last visit there, accompanied by his son Edward, the elder of the Princes in Tower. The present village of
Blean overlaps that of Harbledown, which was the established pilgrimage route
into the city and in fact, the end of The Pilgrims' Way that connects
Winchester and Canterbury, as well as linking with the road from London. I
discovered that in advance of Richard’s visit, the city repaired these roads,
already documented as being in a poor state, partly from the wear of thousands
of penitent feet making the journey down the hill to the cathedral and Becket’s
shrine.
C19th engraving showing the church and wooden hospital to the left.
I am also aware of another description of this road,
written in 1512 by the visiting Humanist scholar Erasmus in Pilgrimages to St Mary at Walsingham and St
Thomas at Canterbury. Now, Erasmus was writing to satirise pilgrimage,
which by the early sixteenth century, was increasingly coming in for criticism
as a vehicle for the exploitation of travellers and the bad behaviour of those considered
to be using it as an excuse for a “jolly.” However, he does provide us with an
interesting picture of the road leading immediately out of the city in the
direction of London, which is roughly the route of the present A2. He describes
it as very “hollow and narrow” with banks on either side “so steep and abrupt
that you cannot escape,” which is still true of part of this stretch of road as
it bisects modern Harbledown. Erasmus then describes the Leper hospital, founded
by Lanfranc, just north of the city. The church of St Nicholas, associated with
this building still stands in Harbledown, with its sloping floors, allowing for
regular cleaning, along with a row of hospital alms houses, although the
hospital itself does not. A twelfth century Order
of St Thomas of Acre, established in the Holy Lands, for the care and
provision of Lepers, was named after Canterbury’s Thomas Becket, although no
direct evidence has yet been uncovered to suggest that the establishment at
Harbledown was part of this order. The twelfth century chronicler Eadmer
describes it as being two wooden buildings, segregating the sexes, built on the
hillside. In Erasmus’ day, it housed around sixty old men, one of whom would
run out “as soon as they perceive any horseman approaching,” to sprinkle them
with holy water and offer them Becket’s shoe to kiss. Erasmus muses whether
they may be offered some spittle or other “bodily” excrements to worship before
they are allowed to resume their journey.
Of course none of this proves that Richard killed
the Princes. He was a devout King and pilgrimages were undertaken by all
medieval Kings and Queens as well as a large number of their subjects. He could
have gone to any number of shrines to offer up his prayers, for any number of
reasons. We know for a fact that Richard was present in the city, that he
stayed in the Tent at Blean/Harbledown, that the route was used by penitent
barefoot pilgrims and that the roads were repaired for him. Again, this does
not prove guilt of any sort but it interested me in the context of other
discussions relating to Richard and the Princes. I was aware of the theory,
already seen as credible by many, that the boys may have died in circumstances
similar to those in which Thomas Becket lost his life. Following this theory,
with Becket’s Canterbury connection, it is possible to speculate that these
details offer an alternative reading of Richard’s visit.
Early C19th interior of the church of St Nicholas with its sloping floor, to allow for cleaning
I offer no apologies
for speculating on what “may have” been. Although amazing archaeological
discoveries do still happen, we cannot all dig up a king in a car park and a
valid aspect of historical study is the continual reinterpretation of
known facts to seek plausible new solutions. It is possible that Richard did
penance at Becket’s shrine, if a servant of his had killed the Princes. It is
equally possible that he did not. It is the discussion of this as a
possibility that helps clarify further understanding of his character and
motivation, which is certainly not a debate with closed answers. One of the
energising aspects of studying the past is that everyone can read the facts and
form their own opinions, within the academic world and outside it. There is a
place for the academic citation of detail and also for the popular celebration
of the man in art, film, literature and discussion groups. Richard is an
enthralling figure, who is rightly the subject of ongoing study and able to
incite passionate defence. I am pleased to have been able to offer another
possible reading of one small slice of his life. My forthcoming biography of
his wife, Anne, will continue to seek a balance between the known facts and
possible interpretations. I will present all the evidence and theories as fully
and clearly as I can and I warmly invite my readers to draw their own
conclusions from them.
