Paul Murray Kendall and the writing of History

 Paul Murray Kendall was an American academic and writer (1911-1973) who made his name in the 1950s with a very good book on Richard III and others on 15th century history. I have just been reading his book on Warwick the Kingmaker and came across this passage.

On November 9th he entered Westminster Hall, accompanied by a retinue of attendants. Numbers of men of the royal household lounging about the hall glowered upon the party. After Warwick had gone on alone into the council chamber, the King's menials began to jeer at the men who bore the badge of the Ragged Staff. The language grew hot on both sides. Someone drew a dagger. In an instant men were slashing at one another with whatever weapon they had at hand. Up from the pantries and the kitchens streamed servants of the King brandishing knives and cleavers -

In the council chamber Warwick heard desperate cries of 'Warwick! Warwick!' He rushed into the great hall, was immediately beset by men of the royal household intent on making an end of him. Surrounded by his outnumbered retinue he fought for his life. His friends from the council forced their way to his side. Slowly they cut a path down the hall. Once they were in the open air, Warwick and his men made a break for the barges. Just in time they pushed out into the Thames beyond the reach of their pursuers.

This is brilliant writing. He creates a scene and carries the tension and desperation of the moment through his short punchy sentences. He draws a picture of a great hall where most were gathered and a private chamber for the council meeting. The kitchen must have been below stairs. But where did this information come from? Men running up from the pantries and kitchens brandishing knives and cleavers. Really?

So I went back to the sources to find out what people actually wrote at the time:

The xxx vij. yere, the kyng and the quene beyng at Westminster, the ix. day of Nouembre fylle a grete debate betwene Richard ere of Warrewyk and theym of the kynges hous, in so moche that they wolde haue sleyne the erle; and vnnethe he escaped to his barge,

(Stowe Chronicle, ed Davies p. 78)

There is not much to go on here, but the London Chronicle adds a little more detail.

In this yere, after Candelmasse, a man of therle of Warwyk smote a seruaunt of the kynges in Westmynster hall; wherwith the kynges howsold meyny were wroth, and came owte with wepons, and some for hast with spittes, for to haue slayn therle; but the lordes that were his frendes conveyed hym to his barge; how be it many of his howsold meany were hurt. And for this was great labour made to the kyng to have had the seed Erle areasted; but he Incontynently departed the town toward Warwyk.  (Chronicle of London, ed Kingsford)

So this is the source for Murray Kendall's purple passage. The facts we have here are the date, Candlemass - November 9th, the location - Westminster Hall, that one of the earl's men hit one of the king's men, that it got out of hand, that some of the lords friendly to Warwick protected him as he made his way to the barge, that he made a hurried escape.

It seems probable from this account that words were spoken which provoked one of the earl's men to shove or hit the other. There is little doubt that the atmosphere at court was hostile to Warwick, and there were some there whose fathers had been killed three years earlier at the Battle of St Albans. The charge he had come to answer had nothing to do with this. Since tensions were high, many more got involved  and before too long weapons were out. Some grabbed spits, which may have been at hand, but Kendall interprets this as men rising from the kitchens with knives and cleavers. He also supposes that there was a separate council chamber but this is unlikely. The purpose of a great hall was to conduct the king's business in a public theatre. Warwick was there for a dressing down over his piratical behaviour in the English channel. It would not do for this to be done outside the ears of the court.  The hall in any case was not for the general public or even the kitchen staff, who in any case would have been in a separate building in the 15th century; the "below stairs"  kitchen only became common in the 19th century. But the lords and court officials would be in attendance. Whatever justice was to be delivered onto Warwick needed witnesses.

There were lords there who would have happily run through Warwick with a sword, if they dared, but were probably content to stand by. If Warwick was killed in the fracas their hands would be clean. Nevertheless, if this were to happen it would have been a scandal that would be difficult for the monarchy to live down. Perhaps even the myopic Margaret of Anjou could see that. Warwick still had friends at court and they most likely offered him a protective cordon so that he could reach his barge. The atmosphere was certainly hot and the Stowe Chronicle reports that the earl feared for his life.
It is reported here that there were those who pressed the king, probably led by the duke of Somerset,  to have Warwick, arrested, but the bird had flown.

There is no doubt that the writing of Paul Murray Kendall makes for bright and entertaining reading. He adds colour to the narrative, but perhaps there is too much fictional flesh and too little historical bone here, which brings me to the purpose of this post. It is surely the job of the historian to construct some sort of narrative from meagre sources of information. The historian also has to assess the reliability of the source against other known facts. It is a difficult intellectual exercise and will rarely lead to a fluent narrative. The historical novelist is quite free to stretch and embroider and imagine in order to create a satisfactory reading experience. I contend that the historian, however intuitive, will never have this freedom.

This is not to say that history is not subject to changing interpretations; reading the literature on Richard III, for example, over the past 100 years should be sufficient to convince one that a wide range of interpretations of the same event is possible. The evidence does not change (except in rare instances) but new reading of the evidence is always possible, and an historian is quite entitled to argue the case.

As an illustration, it is possible to infer from the above Chronicle entry that the hostility towards Warwick may have had something to do with the first Battle of St Albans in 1455. At that battle two of Warwick's bitter enemies, the earl of Northumberland and Lord Clifford were killed. Also done to death was the duke of Somerset, arch rival to the duke of York. Other casualties in this short street battle were light so it is legitimate to suspect that these men were deliberately targeted. However there is no accusation on record to support this suspicion, which is not to say that the suspicion is unfounded. One might therefore wonder if there was more behind this scuffle in 1458 than Warwick's recent freebooting in the Channel. It is a legitimate query, which the historian can raise, but not answer.

To be fair to Paul Murray Kendall, he was well aware of what he was doing. He, when "confronted with a handful of documents—odd moments of personal history fortuitously preserved—[was] forced to make biographical bricks with very little straw." His method, as illustrated in the above passage, is to bring his own detail to the narrative. Which may be fine, but, as I have already indicated, he makes some anachronistic errors. He takes the use of the words "king's servants" in an 18th or 19th century sense as the 'king's menials'. They were more likely court officials - office holders, scribes, guards. Kitchens in the Middle Ages were separate buildings. Fire was a recurrent hazard and if you look at the ruins of any medieval building it is apparent that these buildings were detached. So the idea of kitchen servants rushing upstairs with cleavers and meathooks is pure fiction. So too is the idea that Warwick was off in a separate council chamber when the ruckus started. As I have suggested above it is more likely that Warwick was present in the Great Hall. 

The issue I have with Paul Murray Kendall's presentation is that he describes an event as it happened, rather than as it may have happened. While I agree that such phrases as "it is likely that" or "it is probable that" make for very tedious reading, I contend that it is the historian's job to distinguish between the facts we know and those which are a matter for speculation.

Richard Wydeville as a Jouster

Sir Richard Woodville was a skilled man at arms, possibly one of the leading jousters of his day. The Close Rolls contain this entry in 1440 which shows that  a lot of expense and trouble was to be taken to set up this event in Smithfield.

1440 Nov. 10. Westminster

To the treasurer and the barons of the exchequer. Order to view the king's command to the sheriffs of London, and to allow them in their account at the exchequer all sums of money which by oath of the sheriffs or their deputies they shall be assured are spent by virtue thereof ; as Peter de Vasques of Spain knight, coming of late to England with licence of the king, has challenged Richard Wydevyle the king's knight to certain points or feats

of arms, and the king has gladly granted licence for the same, and has ordered the sheriffs at his cost to erect lists and barriers of timber at ‘Westsmythfelde’ in the suburbs of London by 26 November instant, and to cover the ground within the lists with sand for the purpose, so that there be no let or obstacle there by stones or otherwise, and further by advice of John duke of Norffolk marshal of England to construct a place there for the king suitable to his royal estate.

[Foedera.]

This was an international tournament and the honour of the country was clearly at stake, so we may presume that Sir Richard was chosen as the champion, the best of his time. He was probably in his mid 30s and at the peak of his experience. Jousting was a brutal sport. The men were not fighting with play swords but with real weapons and usually the tournament would be fought until one man yielded. From the Chronicle of London we might gather that both men were a match for each other and before any serious damage could be done, as the men reached for their pole axes, the King intervened and called "Hoo!", bringing the match to a draw with no honour lost on either side.

In this same yere, the morwe after seynt Katerine day, was a chalange in armes provyd afore the kyng, withinne lystes mad in Smythfeld, betwen Sr. Richard Wodevill, knyght of Engelond, and a knyght of Spayn, whiche knyght for his lady love shulde fyghten in certeyn poynts of armes, that is to seye, with ax, swerd, and daggere; and or thei hadde do with the polax the kyng cried, hoo. (In this same year, the morning after St Catherine's Day [Nov 25th], was a challenge in arms before the king, at the Smithfield lists, between Sir Richard Woodville of England and and a knight of Spain, and would fight for their lady love with axe, sword and dagger. When they got to the point of using a pole axe, the king cried, "Hoo!")

In the previous year on Shrove Tuesday he jousted with Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk at the Tower of London. There is no other detail but it may add to the impression that Sir richard Woodville was one of the premier jousters of the day.

The Origin of the Woodvilles

The Woodvilles arrived, fully formed as it were, on the scene in the early 15^th Century. Their origins are completely obscure. Yet, by the time they come into history, they were clearly people of some substance, although not in the top rank of society. Richard Woodville, who became the first Earl Rivers, was a man of some means and was well placed in royal service. His father, also Richard, was not insignificant either. He was the second son of John Woodville, who had served as Sheriff of Northampton and had made his way in life through royal service. As the second son he could not inherit the Woodville estates but he appears to have done enough for himself to acquire some land in Kent, where he raised his children with his wife Joan Bedlisgate (Bittlesgate).  The Bedlisgates had Beauchamp connections. He was brought up, and educated,  in the same household as Henry, Prince of Wales, later Henry V, and this obviously stood him in good stead. He did military service in France and in 1423 was appointed Chamberlain to the Duke of Bedford. After Bedford’s death in 1435 he was made Lieutenant of Calais and in 1436 given the post of Constable of Rochester Castle. He did well for himself and neither he nor his children were from mean or humble stock. 

This has to be emphasised as there is a tendency to dismiss the Woodvilles as insignificant because they had no royal blood in their veins.

Redvers

Except that may be a possibility. When Richard Woodville took the name Earl Rivers he and his family probably knew something about their origins that has not survived on record, that  they were descendants of the highly placed Redvers family from Conquest times.

Richard de Redvers was a supporter of William the Conqueror’s eldest son, Robert Curthose, but switched his allegiance to the youngest, who became Henry I after the death of William II in 1100. Redvers was highly trusted by Henry I and he rewarded him with the barony of Plimpton in Devon and the Lordship of the Isle of Wight. In addition he had inherited estates in the Contention region in Normandy and the Vexin. Redvers was rich and powerful.

There is some argument about the 1^st Earl of Devon, whether it was Richard or his son Baldwin. Most now agree that Matilda, Henry I’s daughter, created Baldwin de Redvers as the first earl in 1141, during her brief moment of power. The male succession died out in 1262 and the title and lands passed to his sister, Isabella, known as Isabella de Fortibus. She died in 1293, having outlived all of her six children. The earldom of Devon passed to cousins, the Courtenay family and the Isle of Wight was sold to the Crown.

When Richard Woodville chose the title of Baron Rivers in 1448 (later elevated to Earl Rivers in 1466) he must have (let us assume) had in mind some connection to the illustrious Redvers family. One assume that this matter was discussed with the heralds and they presumably endorsed the claim, most likely through a female descendant. None of this speculation can be supported by documentary evidence but it is plausible. When he was created earl, Rivers added an escutcheon of a gold griffin on a red background to his coat of arms. The Redvers coat of arms was a gold lion rampant on a red shield. It is tempting to infer that this was a homage to his supposed Redvers lineage.

Woodville

At this point we may turn to the name Wydville, or Woodville, as it was represented in the 15^th Century. This does not sound like a name of English origin although at least one website has offered Woodwell in Northamptonshire as a possible origin for the name. I think that this is unlikely and it probably comes into the category of Norman place names that attached themselves to the invading families in 1066, names like, Geneville, Neuville, Longueville are examples. 

Wood is an English word with no equivalent in French, so I am tempted go with the sound of the word and look for something similar in France. There is an "Oudeville", a small village in Seine-Maritime, which may be a candidate for the name. I don't know enough about how the name of this village developed, but if you think about the pronunciation of the French word for "yes" - oui (pronounced by the English as "we") you can see how the name Wydeville might have developed while in England.

The Wydeville coat of arms, before ennoblement, was a simple one, in itself an indication of some antiquity. Beginning in the 14th century and gathering pace in the 15th century, coats of arms became more complex. The example below shows the Knight of the Garter crest of Earl Rivers. The original Wydeville device is now part of a complex of quarterings, and, as noted above, the Griffin appears to be a nod to the Redvers heritage.

Redvers and Woodville

 This is speculative, but we can imagine a scenario where a man, a knight of Oudeville stock married a Redvers woman and their descendants acquired the corrupted surname of Wydeville or Woodville.

Whatever their origins the Woodvilles, when they emerge in the 15^th Century, were a well-established gentry family with manors in south Northamptonshire, none of which had been acquired overnight. A Walter de Wydeville makes an appearance in a dispute with the Abbot of Grestain in 1235. Walter had jurisdiction over the Hundred Court of Cleyly, so he was not without influence or standing in the community.