The 19th Century Confidence Man

by Mimi Matthews

A Confidence Trick by J.M. Staniforth, 1898.

Though tricksters and con artists have existed throughout history, the 19th century confidence man was a creature that many Victorians considered to be uniquely American.  Not a thief in the traditional sense, he seduced his prey with silky words and fantastical promises until his victims willingly gave him their trust, their money, and, quite literally, their confidence.  This propensity for slick talk and tall tales does tend to put one in mind of a stereotypical American of that era.  But was the 19th century American confidence man more than just a Victorian stereotype?

In fact, the first formally recorded confidence trick was American.  It took place in New York in 1849 when William Thompson conned a man out of his watch.  According to the Social History of Crime and Punishment in America:

“Thompson approached a man on the sidewalk, struck up a conversation, and asked him if he would trust him with his watch until tomorrow.  Once the item was in his possession, Thompson walked off laughing.”

Thompson was later arrested and tried for his crime.  During the trial, the New York Herald reported on how Thompson had “tricked men by gaining their confidence.”  This phrase is credited as the origin of the term confidence man.

Liberty, Currier and Ives, 1885.

In 19th century England, newspapers were full of reports of American confidence men coming to Britain to perpetrate swindles.  Or, alternately, British men and women who were swindled by Americans while visiting the United States.  Describing the American confidence man, an 1893 edition of the Pall Mall Gazette states:

“The average ‘confidence man’ will rob you of your last shilling if he can do so, but not by knocking you down and taking it from you by force.  His plan is to work himself into your confidence, and having done so, despoil you.  In accomplishing his end he has just as much pity for his victim as a highway robber, but not more.”

The Pall Mall Gazette goes on to report the story of what they call “the cleverest confidence man who has visited England for many years.”  The American man in question had arrived in London the previous July and taken up residence at the Savoy Hotel.  Another American, a man by the name of McDonough, introduced him as “a director of the Standard Oil Company.”  To some, he was introduced as Mr. Griffiths.  To others, he was introduced as Mr. St. Elmer.  In both cases, he was presented as an American “oil king.”

Reporting on the same incident, the Yorkshire Evening Post identifies Griffiths' victim by the pseudonym “Mr. Lamb” and describes him as “the largest steel manufacturer in Great Britain.”  As the article states:

“The American met this gentleman in London, and afterwards took a train for the town in which Mr. Lamb was one of the most prominent residents.  He took rooms for himself and a companion McDonough at a hotel, and leaving McDonough there went to call upon Mr. Lamb.”

John D. Rockefeller Sr, 1875.

Griffiths was given a tour of Mr. Lamb's factory, during which he casually mentioned that he expected “his friend” John D. Rockefeller, the president of Standard Oil, to arrive in London “at almost any moment.”  He advised Mr. Lamb that they would need to take rooms in the local hotel for Rockefeller since, as soon as he arrived in London, he would make his way to join them.

Griffiths conducted his “business” with Mr. Lamb over the course of several days.  During that time, he convinced Mr. Lamb to lend him a large sum of money.  At the end of his visit, Griffiths hosted an elaborate dinner at the hotel for Mr. Lamb and several of his principal employees.  And then, when checking out of the hotel to return to London, he informed the hotel clerk that “Mr. Lamb would pay all the bills.”  To add insult to injury, he borrowed an additional £7 from the hotel clerk himself and told him to “put that down to Mr. Lamb also.”

It is not clear at what point Mr. Lamb realized that he had been duped, but at the time of printing in early December of 1893, that particular American confidence man was still wanted by the police.

Delmonico's, New York, 1893.

A similar story, reported in an 1890 edition of the Manchester Courier and Lancashire General Advertiser, involves two Englishmen, Sir Robert Peel and Mr. Clifford Talbot, who made the acquaintance of an American confidence man on board a ship headed to the United States.  Upon arrival in New York, the confidence man offered to show them the sights.  He subsequently divested them of their money and jewels.  According to the article:

“He was arrested last night at Delmonico’s whilst giving them a farewell dinner.  The Englishmen started for the West to-day wiser and poorer men.”

Adding to the many reports of American confidence men perpetrating confidence tricks on unsuspecting Victorians were the sometimes larger than life stories of cons perpetrated by Americans against their own countrymen.  For example, in an 1885 tale that has come to epitomize both the heights of con artistry and the depths of gullibility, William McCloundy famously sold the Brooklyn Bridge to a west coast tourist for $50,000.

Brooklyn Bridge by Currier and Ives, 1883.

But these criminal feats of what one 1928 American newspaper calls “super-salesmanship” were not limited to confidence men from the United States.  There were quacks and patent medicine peddlers galore in Victorian England.  And con men in 19th century Europe were so far ahead of their time that they even had their own version of what many of us know today as the Nigerian prince email scam.  Originating in the 18th century, it was known as the “Spanish Prisoner” or “Spanish Treasure Trick.”  The October 13, 1900 Dundee Evening Post reports on its latest victim:

“The victim, who is a retired newspaper proprietor of substantial means, received the usual letter from the sharper at Barcelona, stating that the writer was a political prisoner in Spain, and had in his possession plans of a spot in the Island of Barbados, where a large amount of treasure was buried.  These plans he was willing to dispose of for £600.”

Map of the Island of Barbados, 1682.

The retiree discussed the viability of this opportunity with “a young clergyman of the Church of England.”  The clergyman, in turn, consulted his father.  Between the three of them, they concluded that the scheme was legitimate and, in due course, the clergyman was dispatched to Barcelona with a draft for £600 and £150 for expenses.  According to the newspaper report:

“In due time he reached Barcelona, found the holder of the precious plans, and received them in exchange for the £600.  He was swiftly disillusioned.  Once in possession of the money, the confidence man turned on the unsophisticated cleric, and he had to flee for his life.”

Despite plenty of evidence that there were slick-talking fraudsters and con men from other parts of the world, the reputation of the 19th century American confidence man persisted.  Some simply chalk this up to the geographic origin of the phrase.  Others have argued that it has more to do with 19th century confidence men possessing qualities that many of that era saw as being quintessentially American.  Qualities like inventiveness, daring, and an entrepreneurial spirit.  In his book American Tricksters, author William Jackson even goes so far as to state that the confidence man is a major American cultural hero.

However you argue it, the 19th century American confidence man was a reality both at home and abroad.  As for the rest, I will let you be the judge.

©2016 Mimi Matthews
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Works Cited

The Social History of Crime and Punishment in America: An Encyclopedia.  Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications, 2012.

“An American Confidence Man.”  Pall Mall Gazette.  December 1, 1893.

“An American Confidence Man.”  Yorkshire Evening Post.  December 2, 1893.

Brooklyn Daily Eagle.  July 8, 1928.

“Curate’s Unlucky Deal.”  Dundee Evening Post.  October 13, 1900.

“Englishman Swindled in America.”  Manchester Courier and Lancashire General Advertiser.  May 30, 1890.

Jackson, William.  American Tricksters: Thoughts on the Shadow Side of a Culture’s Psyche.  Eugene: Cascade Books, 2014.

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Author Biography

Mimi Matthews writes traditional historical romances set in 19th century England.  She is a member of Romance Writers of America (PRO), The Beau Monde, and Savvy Authors, and is currently represented by Serendipity Literary Agency in New York.  In her other life, she is an attorney with both a Juris Doctor and a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature.  She resides in California with her family – which includes an Andalusian dressage horse, a Sheltie, and two Siamese cats.

Blog: MimiMatthews.com
Facebook: Facebook.com/MimiMatthewsAuthor
Twitter: Twitter.com/MimiMatthewsEsq

Harddwch Gogledd Cymru - The Beauty of North Wales Part I

By Annie Whitehead

A friend recently described her homeland (Canada) as having history, but not many historical sites. Wales, and North Wales in particular, has both. When I began making notes for this blog piece, they ran into three pages of place names, of sites to visit, of towns where every other building has a plaque on it. So I thought it best to categorise and this must be, of necessity, a whistle-stop tour. (And I apologise for omissions - of which there will be many.)

I'm not going to take you anywhere that I haven't been myself, but some of those visits were pre-digital camera and of a time when my kids featured in every shot, so not all the pictures are mine. But let's start with some very early history and travel across the Menai Strait to Penmon Priory,  originally a 10th century establishment but rebuilt in the 12th.

Wiki commons - attribution: Robin Drayton

Two crosses survive from the 10th century - also known as St Sereiol's, the church was attacked by Vikings in 971 - and the smaller of these two crosses looks as if it bears testament to this attack, but in fact its arm was broken off and used as a lintel for the refectory windows.

Attribution: Bencherlite

Back on the mainland in a little village called Clynnog Fawr, where I've holidayed many times, stands the church of St Bueno. He was an abbott in the 7th century, and this church (a monastery then) was a stopping off point for pilgrims on their way to Bardsey Island, (more of which later.) St Beuno's has an ancient wooden chest used to contain alms donated by pilgrims, and outside there is a sundial which dates from somewhere between the 10th and 12th centuries. Clynnog Fawr itself is the site of several battles: Aelfhere of Mercia is recorded as having been there in 978 when Vikings attacked the monastery, the Battle of Bron yr Erw was fought in 1075, and in 1255 Llywelyn ap Gruffudd defeated his brothers to become undisputed prince of Gwynedd.

Author's own photo

The subject of royalty leads us back out onto the island of Anglesey, where the church at Llangadwaladr is reputed to be an ancient royal burial ground. There is an inscribed stone which names a 7th century king, Catamanus, and Charles Thomas has published a fascinating little book about his detective work, deciphering the real meaning and possible true 'author' of the words on the inscription.

Still in the 7th century, if we move a little further along the coast, we can walk out from Aberffraw to the church of St Cwyfan, although the building here dates only from the 12th century. St Cwyfan was a disciple of Beuno and he built a Christian missionary here. He is also associated with Glendalough in Co. Wicklow in Eire, although over there he is referred to as St Kevin. When I visited Glendalough in 2010 it took me a while to  'join up the dots'.

Glendalough -author's photo

Talking of early saints, we can go further back in time and walk along the beautiful sands at Newborough beach and onto Llanddwyn Island (actually a peninsular except at all but the highest tides) and learn about St Dwynwyn, who died around AD460. Her father was King Brychan Brycheiniog and stories vary but essentially she was unlucky in love until prayers rescued her and she devoted her life to God, healing, and prayer, and built her church on the island which now bears her name. She is the Welsh patron saint of lovers and her Saint's day is celebrated on January 25th, the Welsh equivalent of St Valentine's Day.

On another island, this time off the tip of the Llyn peninsular at Aberdaron, is Bardsey. Out here there are the remains of neolithic huts, but the island is mainly known for its Christian associations. In around AD516, Saint Cadfan (a Breton) founded the abbey of St Mary's which became a place of pilgrimage. Those who had rested at St Beuno's at Clynnog Fawr were making their way to Bardsey; three pilgrimages here were worth one to Rome. (Some sources say it was only two.) As with so many early medieval buildings, the original monastery has gone, and only the ruins of the 13th century tower remain.

Commons attribution: David Medcalf

Also on Bardsey island there is an apple tree, which was reputed to have been the only survivor of the monks' orchard. Tests in 1998 conducted by the experts at the National Fruit Collection confirmed that this tree did indeed produce a previously unrecorded variety of apple.

The church at Aberdaron is associated with a story about Gruffudd ap Cynan, who sought sanctuary there in AD1094 before fleeing in a boat to Ireland. Y Gegin Fawr [the big kitchen] is a 13th century building, now a tearoom, where pilgrims could eat before their final journey over to Bardsey.

Attribution: Noel Walley

Neolithic reminders are evident over on the limestone headland jutting out from Llandudno - the promontory known as the Great Orme, where Bronze Age copper mines have been excavated to reveal that the Romans re-opened the mines first worked before 600BC.  Guided tours of the mines are available and after a helter-skelter drive from the car park at the top of the Orme you can call in to the church of St Tudno, (12th century,) and at the 'bottom' of the Orme the 13th century remains of the palace of the bishops of Bangor are fenced off but still visible. The name 'Orme' is most likely a Norse reference to the shape of the headland, and derived from the ON word 'urm' meaning 'sea serpent'.

Parys Mountain at Amlwych on the northern coast of Anglesey was also mined for copper ore during the Bronze Age, but I will revisit Parys Mountain in a later instalment of this tour when we move into the industrial age.  But before we get there, we still have to visit the houses, churches and castles associated with the Princes of Gwynedd and Edward I, walk in the footsteps of Owain Glyndwr, discover Tudor buildings, and the marks left on the landscape by the industrial age. Join me for Part II of this tour on April 10th.

I recently wrote a piece for this blog about the incredible history of just one street in Ruthin, where every other house has a plaque on the wall testifying to its historical significance. (Link below)
I don't know if it's true that this area has more history than the rest of Britain, or whether the Welsh just like to flag it up, point it out, show it off. But whatever the truth, I know that after 10 years of visiting the area at least once a year, and sometimes 3, I can say that I still haven't run out of places to discover. If you haven't been, go. Whatever your interest in history, you will not be disappointed. And the first Welsh word you'll see is the sign that says Croeso (Welcome) - and they mean it.

To read the previous parts of this tour:
Part II is HERE

Part III is HERE

*********************

Annie Whitehead graduated in History having studied under the eminent Medievalist Ann Williams. She is an elected member of the Royal Historical Society and an editor for EHFA (English Historical Fiction Authors.) She has written three award-winning novels set in Anglo-Saxon England, one of which, To Be A Queen, was long-listed for the Historical Novel Society (HNS) Indie Book of the year 2016. She has contributed to fiction and nonfiction anthologies and written for various magazines, including winning the New Writer Magazine Prose Competition. She was the winner of the inaugural Historical Writers’ Association/Dorothy Dunnett Prize 2017. She has now been a judge for that same competition for 2019 and 2020, as well as for the HNS Short Story Competition. Her nonfiction books are Mercia: The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom (published by Amberley Books) and Women of Power in Anglo-Saxon England, (published by Pen & Sword Books)

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Ruthin - From King Arthur to the Beatles

"A Metropolis in Flames" - The Gordon Riots of 1780

By Mark Patton

For more than two centuries after Henry VIII broke with the Catholic Church in 1533, the conflict between the Catholic and Protestant faiths dominated the social and political life of the British Isles. "Popish plots," both real and imagined, struck fear into the heart of the nation, although many more lives (by no means all of them Catholic) were lost in the backlash against these plots than as a result of any real Catholic insurgency. The profession of the Catholic faith became a treasonable act, in and of itself.

By 1780, however, a generation on from the crushing of the Jacobite rebellion, the most deadly enemies of the nation were no longer Catholics, either at home or abroad, but the overwhelmingly Protestant colonists on the eastern seaboard of North America. France remained an implacable foe, but Louis XVI made few pretences of fighting in the name of religion. The British government found itself in need of Catholic finances, and of Catholic (mainly Irish and Scottish) recruits for its army and navy. The Prime Minister, Lord North drew up proposals for a Catholic Relief Act, removing the more onerous legal restrictions on Roman Catholics within Britain.

Two hundred years of hatred had rendered the very words "Papist" and "Popish" toxic within the English lexicon. Anti-Catholic songs and poems soon began to circulate again in the drinking houses of London:

"A certain knight brimful of hope,
Knight of the Shire also,
To gain the Papists pleased the Pope,
And humbly kissed his toe.
'Pob!' cried his colleague in a bother,
'The toe's but a simple farce!'
And that he might outdo his brother,
He's gone to kiss his #~@<!"

The demagogue who came forward to whip up and direct these anti-Catholic and anti-Government sentiments was the eccentric figure of Lord George Gordon, the MP for a "pocket borough" (a post he owed to bribery), and a man known for his political inconsistencies. On 2nd June, 1780, Gordon lead some forty to sixty thousand men in a march on Parliament, wearing blue cockades, and carrying "No Popery" banners.

Lord George Gordon (image is in the Public Domain).

When the government refused to reinstate the anti-Catholic legislation, the assembly became riotous. The Catholic chapels of the Sardinian and Bavarian Embassies were ransacked, as were the slums of Moorfield, occupied largely by Catholic immigrants from Ireland. There was even an unsuccessful attempt to break into the Bank of England. For almost a week, fires raged, buildings collapsed and London was, in effect, ungovernable.

The Gordon Riots, by Charles Green (image is in the Public Domain).

Having destroyed all the Catholic interests they could find, the rioters turned their attentions to London's prisons, setting both Newgate Jail and The Clink on fire, and releasing several hundred prisoners. The rioters at this stage, who included the young William Blake, may have been motivated as much by hatred of the "Bloody Code" (under which people were hanged for even minor offences against property) as by anti-Catholic sentiments.

The Burning of Newgate Jail (image is in the Public Domain).

Order was eventually restored by the army, but not before 285 people were killed, 200 wounded, and 450 arrested. The cost of righting the damage is estimated at £180,000 (around £230 million in today's terms). Lord George Gordon was put on trial for high treason, but acquitted: he went abroad, but was later found to be living in Birmingham, having converted to Judaism. Ironically, he ended his days in the rebuilt Newgate Jail, having been imprisoned for defamation of the French Queen, Marie-Antoinette.

The Gordon Riots, by John Seymour Lucas (image is in the Public Domain).

My recently published short story, "White Wings," is about the shipwreck of the East Indiaman, Grosvenor, off the South African coast in 1782. Although, ostensibly, there is no connection between this event and the Gordon Riots, by placing them in the back-story of my one of my protagonists, I was able to explain the surprising decision that he makes in the aftermath of the shipwreck.

Mark Patton blogs regularly on aspects of history and historical fiction at http://mark-patton.blogspot.co.uk. His short story, "White Wings," was long-listed for the 2015 Aestas Prize, and is published in the Aestas Anthology, which can be purchased from Amazon UK or Amazon USA.

Emily Lamb, First Lady Cowper, then Lady Palmerston, Patroness of Almack's

By Lauren Gilbert

The Hon. Emily Lamb by Sir Thomas Lawrence 1803 (age 16)

Emily Lamb, Lady Cowper, was famous for her wit, charm and tact, and exercised great social power, not only as one of the Lady Patronesses of Almack's, but in her later life as Lady Palmerston, wife of the Prime Minister. It is important to look at her family life to see how she evolved to her subsequent status.

Emily was born April 21, 1787 to Elizabeth, Lady Melbourne (born Milbanke) who was the wife of Peniston Lamb, Viscount Melbourne. Lady Melbourne was a woman who was part of the "Devonshire House set", a famous hostess, and a highly powerful society figure. Lady Melbourne was noted for her ambition, her discretion, and her influence. Although the first child born of the marriage, a son, was undoubtedly that of her husband, Lady Melbourne had many affairs, including one with George, then the Prince of Wales, and the paternity of her other children (including Emily) was not clear. The Earl of Egremont was a possible candidate as Emily's natural father. Although her affairs were not secrets, she conducted them with great tact, dignity and discretion; there is no indication of any scandal, and no record of any objection by Lord Melbourne. Elizabeth was also a loyal friend (if not a loyal wife). Emily was raised in a highly social and political circle and would have had the opportunity to learn her social skills from hostesses at the highest level of society, including her mother and Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire. Her formal education was acquired from governesses. Emily was the fifth of six children, including her brother William (who married Caroline Lamb, and became a Prime Minister).

In 1805, at age 18, Emily was married to Peter Leopold Louis Francis Nassau Cowper, 5th Earl Cowper. Nine years older than Emily, Earl Cowper was the largest landowner in Hertfordshire, and invested as a Fellow in the Royal Society. He was also considered lacking in ambition, dull and slow of speech. Earl Cowper was also apparently uninterested in politics. He worked with Henry Repton on the building of a house on one of his estates during this period, and they had a son, George, in 1806. Emily threw herself into her social career, becoming a leading figure and one of the patronesses of Almack's and, subsequently, a regular member of the court of George IV. She had a reputation for being the most popular of the lady patronesses, and was noted for her tact, apparently skilled at smoothing over the social conflicts and quarrels that sprang up in her social milieu. Princess Lieven, notoriously difficult to please, apparently considered Emily a close friend. Four other children were born during the marriage, whose paternities are not clear. Like her mother, there was no scandal; apparently, her husband also raised no objection.

At Almack's, Emily was seen more and more frequently in company with Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston (who was noted for his own romantic adventures). Lord Palmerston appeared regularly at Lady Cowper's social functions. The nature of their relationship during this time was and is subject to a great deal of speculation; at the very least, they were good friends. (At most, they were intimate friends-Emily's son William born in 1811 was considered very like Lord Palmerston, and ultimately bore the last name Cowper-Temple.) Her social career, however (as previously mentioned), was not blighted by open scandal, so we can assume that Emily learned not only deportment but discreet behavior from her mother.

Upon the death in 1818 of her mother, Lady Melbourne, Emily became increasingly involved in assisting her brothers with their affairs, communicating regularly with her brother Frederick (a diplomat) and attempting to guide her brother William through his marriage and career crises. William had fallen in love with and become engaged to Caroline Ponsonby (daughter of Henrietta who was the Duchess of Devonshire's sister, and another member of the "Devonshire House Set"), and married her June 3, 1805. As a result, Caroline became the Caroline Lamb, subsequently famous for her affair with Byron, wild behavior, and uncontrolled emotions. The young couple lived with Lord and Lady Melbourne, which was a far from satisfactory arrangement for all. Emily had little use or sympathy for Caroline, all of her sympathies being with William. In 1816, Caroline published a novel GLENARVON anonymously. In this novel, Caroline portrayed herself as an abused heroine, and other members of society (including her husband and mother-in-law, and Byron) in extremely bad light. This tested William's loyalty to the maximum, and almost resulted in a separation. After Lady Melbourne's death, Emily tried to protect William from Caroline's emotional upheaval. Caroline ultimately died January 26, 1828. Emily was convinced that William was relieved (although he never remarried).

Between her social duties, and family responsibilities, Emily was very busy during this period. When the Prince of Wales became King George IV in January of 1820, Emily was still active as a lady patroness of Almack's and a popular member of society. She became a prominent figure at court and, by the late 1820's, she was also a prominent political hostess for the Whigs, the party espoused by her friend Lord Palmerston and her brother William. As William's political career began to advance (he was Home Secretary in 1834, and Prime Minister in 1834), Emily acted as his hostess. She maintained her influence and friendships with other important society members, including Princess Lieven, who wrote of her visit to the country with Lady Cowper in 1830 "to refresh my spirits a little in the society of good and true friends." (1)

Earl Cowper, who seemed to be most notable for his absence in Emily's life, died June 27, 1837. At this point, Queen Victoria had reigned 2 days. Per force, Emily spent a quiet year for the obligatory period of mourning. Lord Palmerston finally asked Emily to marry him. Apparently, the ages of the couple were a cause for concern (both being in their 50's!), so the blessing of the queen was requested and given. They were married December 16, 1839. Emily became the leading polical hostess in London society, and used her influence to support Lord Palmerston and his policies. Her social skills, charm and tact created a great deal of good will for him, and she was apparently very talented at gathering information. By all accounts, they lived happily together until his death in October 18, 1865. Emily passed away September 11, 1869, and was buried in Westminster Abbey, next to Lord Palmerson.

Updated slightly from a post originally published on The World of Heyerwood blog Here


SOURCES INCLUDE:

Blythe, Henry. CARO The Fatal Passion. 1972: Coward, McCann Geoghegan, Inc. New York.

Gronow, Captain Rees Howell. Reminiscences of Captain Grownow. 1862: Smith, Elder and Co. 1862. (Reprint by IndyPublish.com, McLean, VA)

Melville, Lewis. REGENCY LADIES. 1926: George H. Doran Co. New York.

Murray, Venetia. AN ELEGANT MADNESS High Society in Regency England. 1998: Penguin, New York.

Robinson, Lionel G., ed. LETTERS OF DOROTHEA, PRINCESS LIEVEN, during her Residence in London, 1812-1834. 1902: Longmans, Green, and Co. London. (Footnote 1, p 240.)

Bloy, Dr. Marjory. Website: A Web of English History. "Emily Lamb, Lady Cowper (Lady Palmerston)." Here


The Jane Austen Centre Blog. "The Patronesses of Almack's: The Arbiters of London Respectibility" posted by Laura Boyle 7/17/2011. Here


ThePeerage.com Person Page 2721. "Emily Mary Lamb." Last edited June 17, 2012. Here

"Peter Leopold Louis Francis Nassau Cowper, 5th Earl Cowper." Last edited Feb. 20, 2011. Here


GeorgianIndex. Lady Melbourne. Here

Image: Wikimedia Commons. Here.


Lauren Gilbert, a long-time member of the Jane Austen Society of North America, published her first fiction work, HEYERWOOD: A Novel, in 2011. She lives in Florida with her husband, and is working on her second novel, A RATIONAL ATTACHMENT. Visit her website for more information Here

Shamrocks, Snakes, Maewyn Sucat and the Wearing of the Green: The Making of Saint Patrick

By Linda Root

The historic Saint Patrick can be hard to find:

Seeking insight into the historical figure we know as Saint Patrick, is more a lesson in historiography than biographical research. It can be a far more arduous endeavor than merely separating the man from the myth. It is every bit as much a quagmire as tracing the origin of the historical Arthur, and equally controversial. More than fifteen hundred years after his celebrated date of death, grown men and women of academic celebrity are duking it out over his origin in a style more common to the pubs of Dublin on Saint Patrick’s Day at closing time than the hallowed halls of Cambridge. One eminent historian, Cambridge Professor David Dumville, cites a remark of a colleague that ‘in Patrician studies scholars have left no stone unthrown.’[i],[ii]

When I elected to write my March post about Saint Patrick, I had no idea I had stepped into an academic brawl which still rages, in spite of Professor Dumville’s assertions to the contrary.  With that comment out of the way, there is one fact about Saint Patrick about which there is no controversy:  There is scant in common between the historical and the mythic Sanctus Patricius, or the holiday celebrating him.

Grandpa had it wrong: 

Henry C. Patterson and his granddaughter.

Every year of my early life in Cleveland, on March 17^th my grandfather Henry Clay Patterson would don a top hat and march in the Saint Patrick’s Day Parade.   I wonder what he would say if he had known Saint Patrick was likely born a Scotsman. While there are several locations along the coast of the Irish Sea and the English Channel, which claim him, Western Scotland near Dumbarton is a current favorite, unless, of course, you are Welsh. Some modern scholars go so far as to suggest that Patrick was born in Brittany. 
A brief overview of the powerful symbolism surrounding the patron saint of Ireland uncovers more passion on the part of the various claimants to Saint Patrick’s past than those who write about his achievements.

There are some other surprising facts concerning Saint Patrick about which there is no quarrel. For example, his birth name was not Patrick. He was born Maewyn Sucat, and he was not Irish  He was more than likely British, although even that is subject to debate. There is controversy as to the proper definitions of the words  Brittania or Brittanii as they appear in early histories. At least one competent writer, Marcus Losack, makes a good argument that the saint’s ancestors fled Roman Scotland for Bretagne (Britany) when the Romans withdrew, which, of course, is on the northwest coast of France. Losack's hypothesis would explain but not resolve Maewyn Sucat’s familiarity with what linguists call Early Living Latin. There is good evidence the saint did not learn his  Latin in the Roman Catholic Church.[iii] While some historians conclude he had traveled to Gaul to prepare for his ministry, others speculate he may have been born there. Well-regarded Late Latinist scholar Christine Mohrmann finds 'There are in the language of Saint Patrick many elements of living Late Latin which cannot possibly be traced back to British Latin. Therefore, we must allow for a contact of Patrick with the Continent.’[iv] How and when that may have occurred is another topic for debate.

If not Irish, who was Maewyn Sucat?

There are as many factions struggling to construct a claim to the Irish saint as there are battling over the origin of  Arthur Pendragon. A survey of the literature suggests the Arthurians are more civilized than the Patricians. In his short biography[v], Daniel Colston says: 'The mythical Patrick was created because history was not yet discovered as a science in the 7th century and writers of history were more concerned with a good story.’ 

Even a brief survey of the literature reveals historians are not always civil when  they disagree. Although Professor Dumville declares the debate has died down with the death of the most aggressive of the combatants, he obviously has not read his colleague Barbeiri's acerbic review of Dumville's book on Amazon.

Daniel Colston, in his short biography, reminds us the traditional images of Saint Patrick, with shepherd’s cross and mitered hat, is a fiction of the Holy Roman Church. Saint Patrick lived in the 5^th century, hundreds of years before Catholic bishops costumed themselves in that manner. While most historians agree Saint Patrick was a member of an early British Christian sect, he was not Catholic in the classical sense. Colston has him born on the southwestern coast of Roman Britain, to an aristocratic family. The language in his village would have been Latin. The Angles and the Saxons came much later. Other sources place his family home in Strathclyde, Scotland, and some favor Wales. Strathclyde seemed rather far north for a lad who spoke Latin.  But with evidence surfacing indicating the Romans had a garrison at or near Carlisle, the Scots are currently back in the game. Others argue in favor of Brittany. While Patrick’s own writings should be dispositive of questions concerning his vital statistics, they are not. In his Confession, he calls his birthplace Bannavem Tiburniae but does not place it geographically. His writing discusses his spiritual birth, not his mortal one.

How Maewyn Sucat got to Ireland: Blame it on the Pirates

Wherever it may have been, Maewyn Sucat’s homeland was the site of frequent raids by the Irish king ‘Niall of the Nine Hostages’. Marcus Losack, in his recent book Rediscovering Saint Patrick: A New Theory of Origins at Kindle Location 206,  is convinced the future saint lived in a family estate on the coast of Brittany and was captured when he was age sixteen by Niall’s raiders. Patrick’s writing confirms the kidnapping and his age at the time, but not the locale. A folk history of inhabitants at the location Losack pinpoints talks of a family of Scottish origin which had fled to Bretagne when Roman troops withdrew from Britain to protect Roman holdings in France. However, Losack’s explanation is only one of many that fits if you so desire. Other sources have adolescent Maewyn carried off from an area near Dumbarton, which supports a Scottish birth. One recent historian has suggested the controversy is caused by Saint Patrick’s parents hailing from Scotland but having a vacation home on the coast of France.  Except in the minds of certain partisan academics, the puzzle remains unsolved.

Wikimedea Commons-
Solway Firth north of Carlisle

Maewyn Sucat and Ireland:

All versions of Saint Patrick’s story including his own work, Confession, place his capture and abduction at or near the dawn of the fifth century, circa A.D. 400. Raids by Irish slavers were apparently common. While accounts are not specific, including the one written by Patrick himself, it seems he was sold to a sheep owner and was forced to tend flock in an inhospitable, remote location, possibly in County Mayo, which for those of you who do not know your Irish geography, is a long, long way from the spot where the Clyde flows into the Irish Sea.

At some point during the six years of his captivity, the future Saint Patrick experienced an epiphany. Not only did he abandon his name, but also his way of life. Perhaps due to the remoteness and the isolation from his friends and family, Maewyn Sucat became spiritualized. He also learned the language and some of the cultural traits of his captors. Authorities are mixed as to the nature and strength of his religion during the sixteen years before he was seized but agree he was not Catholic in the orthodox sense. This does not mean he had not been closely affiliated with a religious community in the land of his birth.  In his writings, he implies his father was a public official and perhaps a deacon in a nascent Christian church. While Maewyn Sucat may have been earmarked for the priesthood, nowhere in his early life is there evidence of the deep religious fervor that came later.

Little is known of Saint Patrick’s circumstances during his captivity. When he wrote about it later, he focused on his spiritual awakening.  He is not the first nor the last of his kind to have found his God in the wilderness and received divine revelations in the form of dreams. In one of them, voices told it was time for him to leave - a ship was waiting to take him home. According to his own account, although he was far from a seaport, he had enough confidence in the dream to walk for days. Says Saint Patrick: 

’It was not nearby, but a good two hundred miles away. I had never been to the place, nor did I know anyone there. So I ran away then, and left the man with whom I had been for six years. It was in the strength of God that I went - God who turned the direction of my life to good; I feared nothing while I was on the journey to that ship.’[Colston, Daniel, Ibid, (Kindle Locations 161-163).

When he arrived, he found a ship with a crew willing to give him passage home, wherever home may have been.  

Maewyn Sucat returns to his homeland: The Lost Years

Few facts are known of Saint Patrick’s history for the next several years. While Some writers infer his immediate family had been slain at the time of his kidnapping, Saint Patrick in  Confessions talks of his reunion with his parents, who urge him never to leave again. Apparently there were three significant religious characters named Patrick in the fifth-century timeframe. The account of the murder of his family may relate to another Patrick. In the mid-twentieth-century, there was significant support for a Two-Patricks Explanation. Nevertheless, from his own writing, the Patrick the subject of this review  was reabsorbed into the political and religious community from whence he came. Again, what we learn from the written words of our protagonist, albeit of suspect translation, has more to do with his faith than his surroundings. One fact is clear: His experience in captivity in Ireland had changed him.
  

In a popular rendition of Confessions, the man who became Saint Patrick speaks of joyous days with his parents. Other evidence suggests he may have traveled to Gaul to prepare for the spiritual life he had embarked upon in Ireland. He had become a Man of God and was expecting God to call him to a mission. Then came a time when his dreams came more specific.  He heard voices he identified as the collective voice of the Irish People.

‘“We beg you, holy boy, to come and walk again among us.” This touched my heart deeply, and I could not read any further; I woke up then. Thanks be to God, after many years the Lord granted them what they were calling for. Another night – I do not know, God knows, whether it was within me or beside me – I heard authoritative words which I could hear but not understand, until at the end of the speech it became clear: “The one who gave his life for you, he it is who speaks in you”; and I awoke full of joy.’[vi]

There is some evidence not all of the leaders in his early church were excited to send him back. Apparently one of his lifelong friends had betrayed a childhood secret which tarnished Patrick’s image. In his writings, Patrick admits to an unspecified sin committed in his youth. But when he made it clear he intended to return to Ireland with or without the blessings of the hierarchy of his church, they reluctantly endorsed his mission to Ireland. Mayhap they wanted to be rid of him. Substantial evidence exists in Papal archives indicating Pope Leo the Great had already sent an alternative Patrick to Ireland, known to history as Palladius, who may have been Patrick’s predecessor and might have been his alter-ego. During the middle Twentieth Century, a historian questioned if the discrepancies in Patrick's history emerged because there were actually two of them. A parallel  debate still rumbles if not rages as to the extent of the Christian presence before 431, or the degree of convergence of the stories of the two bishops. Perusal of the evidence suggests the existence of a somewhat limited Christian church presence in Ireland prior to either Palladius or Patrick, and concedes the possibility of confusion between their separate missions. Late developing evidence suggests Palladius was indeed a bishop sent by Rome, but due to the expansion of Anglo-Saxon power in Britain in the latter half of the fifth century, the Roman Church abandoned the Irish mission to the British church after Pallaadius died. Rome had troubles enough without concerning itself with the Irish.

Saint Patrick preaching to an Irish King atTara

Mitered Hat, Shamrocks and other Shams:

One of Saint Patrick’s biographers has stated that Patrick’s intimate association with Jesus and the Messianic Message was precisely what the wild Irish needed to hear. Like the Jews of ancient Palestine, they were a downtrodden people badly in need of a hero—a Deliverer. By revealing Jesus in a messianic role, Saint Patrick led thousands upon thousands of the Irish to embrace Christianity. Some of his converts were kings. Christian, including Catholic, doctrine was in flux. His own beliefs were not Catholic in the classical sense. They were early Christian, centered on the existence of Jesus, and not the glory of the nascent Catholic Church. Patrick was a strict Trinitarian, and his teachings stressed the separate natures of the Son, the Father, and the Holy Spirit. He understood and used scripture and symbolism in his ministry, which is likely where the Shamrock legend comes into the story. He may have drawn three circles in the dirt with his staff, and others might have thought it resembled a shamrock, but there is no evidence the saint used a shamrock in his teachings. The significance of the Shamrock is its exclusivity to Ireland, at least until modern times.

The origin of the legend of the snakes is evident in its simplicity. There are no snakes in Ireland: Why not give credit to Saint Patrick with eradicating them? And what about the paintings and sculptures and stained glass windows of the Irish saint? They represent an awe inspiring Catholic Saint, but certainly not Saint Patrick. Even Roman bishops did not adopt the mitre until the eleventh century. And yet, it is almost universal in depictions of Saint Patrick. Again, the answer is obvious. The Roman Church was claiming him as one of its own.

The Catholic Icon

Somehow in the midst of snakes and shamrocks and mitres, we have forgotten that Saint Patrick had learned their language during his captivity, and sustained an intense dialog with common Irishmen. He also stood toe to toe with kings. He spread the Christian doctrine as Jesus did, to the masses, not always from the pulpit.  He converted many kings and publicly chastised a British warlord king for his bloodlust and sinfulness. Yet, more is written of his origin than his acts.

Which brings us to the topic of Saint Patrick’s Day - a very secular holiday in its modern interpretation.

CONCLUSION:  Saint Patrick’s Day is a celebration of being Irish

Other than its name, Saint Patrick’s Day has little to do with the historic Saint Patrick but focuses upon our own real or feigned Irishness, which we demonstrate by wearing green or risk being pinched. We find our way to an Irish pub or a gathering of real or pseudo-Irish friends, fill up with corned beef and cabbage, after which we sing  "A Little Bit of Heaven” or “When Irish Eyes are Smiling,” while lifting a pint of green beer. And some of us shed a tear.

Photo by the author.

And to us, it doesn’t matter where Maewyn Sucat was born. He died Irish. The degree to which he changed the spiritual face and the destiny of a nation of people who in diaspora, have impacted the history of the modern world is left to the quibbling of historians. Methinks it would be a worthy endeavor for them to write more about Saint Patrick’s mission, and less about his origin.



For those who are interested in Saint Patrick’s beliefs as revealed in his words, no matter how suspicious the translation, Confession is available on Amazon at the link listed in the author’s notes.  It is noteworthy that the emphasis on Patrick as a missionary is most often depicted on the covers of children’s books. Perhaps that is a good start in separating the Saint from the stained glass image of the man in the mitered hat.

HAPPY SAINT PATRICK’S DAY, ONE AND ALL!

A PERSONAL RECOLLECTION FROM THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR.

Recently, my own life took a turn not so different than that of the mythic Saint Patrick: There was never any question that Henry Clay Patterson considered himself true Irish, although many who share his surname are Ulster Irish, deported from the Highlands during the 17^th Century. His family was established in Maryland before the American Revolution. They were avid Episcopalians. In any event, there is good reason to believe my Patterson ancestry was Scottish.

But that is not all. My paternal grandmother’s name was Amy Jameson. You don’t get much more Irish than that unless your name is Guinness. However, last year we discovered the spelling of her surname was changed in the 1920’s when her sister became a sports executive in Cleveland—a very Irish town in those days. The surname Jameson was a career move. Alas, just like Maewyn Sucat, my grandmother Amy was a Scot, the daughter of Alexander Jamieson, of the Clan Gunn. I wonder if he was born in Strathclyde. I realized as I concluded my post that March 18^th, tomorrow, is the 55^th anniversary of my grandfather’s death.  He did not march in a parade that year, but on the night he died, I was present when he did a jig. 

 AUTHOR’S NOTE:   

A Kindle edition of Confession is available on Amazon for 99cents. The trade paperback is 6.99. Like most published versions of the Confession, even the earliest, questions arise as to the accuracy of the translation. St.Patrick’s Latin was not the liturgical Latin spoken by priests of the Roman Catholic church. It was a language spoken in his home and his community. Irish was his second language. We do not know what variance may exist between the Latin taught in schools and the vernacular Latin spoken in Roman Britain of the fifth century. With that caveat, here is the LINK:


Photos not otherwise attributed are from Wikimedia.com through Creative Commons. Maps courtesy of Sansculotte - German Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=459238

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  

Linda Root is the author of six historical novels set in Marie Stuart’s Scotland and the Early Jacobean years, including The First Marie and the Queen of Scots, The Last Knight and the Queen of Scots, and the four books of the Legacy of the Queen of Scots Series: 1) The Midwife’s Secret-The Mystery of the Hidden Princess; 2) The Other Daughter- Midwife’s Secret II; 3) 1603: The Queen’s Revenge and 4) In the Shadow of the Gallows. The fifth in the series, The Deliverance of the Lam in coming this autumn. Root is a former prosecutor and a veteran of more than a hundred twenty jury trials. She lives in the high desert community of Yucca Valley, on the edge of Joshua Tree National Park. In addition to being a regular contributor to EHFA, she is active at The Review blogspot and a Board Member of the M.m.Bennetts Award, an inactive member of the State Bar of Califoria, and a member of the Bar of the United States Supreme Court. Visit her author page on Amazon Author Page 

[i] Dumville, David, Saint Patrick A.D.493-1993, The Boydell Press, Suffolk, 1993, 1999, from the Forward contained in the front material.

[ii] It is interesting that Dumville claims the most vociferous of the combatants in the battle over Patrick’s origin to be dead at the time he published his book in 1993. His assertion is presumptuous. He should read the review his less than congenial colleague Italian historian and cartoonist F. Barbieri has posted on Amazon, calling Dumville an academic possessed of ‘an unconstructive attitude,’ who enjoys putting down the theories advanced by others.

[iii] Lossack, Marcus, Rediscovering Saint Patrick, A New Theory of Origin, Columba Press, Dublin, 2013.

[iv] Quoted from The Latin of Saint Patrick, p.50, by Dumville, op. cit. St.Patrick’s Missing Years, p 25.

[v] Colston, Daniel, SAINT PATRICK AND THE PRESENCE OF GOD: A Short Biography, North Garden Publishing Company, on Kindle

[vi] From Colston’s account and others.

England and the Aquitaine Part III: Edward

By Helena P. Schrader

As I have hopefully convinced you in my two previous essays, Aquitaine was immensely important to England in the three hundred years from 1152 to 1452.  Having already discussed its association with Eleanor of Aquitaine and Richard the Lionheart, today I want to describe its importance to Edward of Woodstock, commonly called “the Black Prince,” but properly titled “Prince of Wales and Aquitaine.” 

Edward's Effigy in Canterbury Cathedral

Despite his more exalted title, Prince Edward’s ties to the Aquitaine were much weaker than those of either Eleanor or Richard. By the time Edward was born in 1330, Eleanor and Richard’s once vast Duchy of Aquitaine had been reduced to the coastal region from roughly Rochefort (south of La Rochelle) to the border of Navarre, just south of Bayonne. English control extended only as far inland as La Reole. The region had for almost a hundred years been called Guyenne, a word derived from Aquitaine but referring to the much reduced area under English control compared to the glory-days of Eleanor and Richard.

English control over Guyenne was, furthermore, distant and somewhat disinterested. The last English king to set foot in Guyenne had been Edward of Woodstock’s great-great grandfather, Edward I. The lords and commons of Guyenne were loyal to the English crown for two reasons: 1) because England was the primary market for the region’s chief product: wine; in short, there were very strong economic reasons to be “part” of England, and 2) precisely because the English kings were far away and largely disinterested in Guyenne — as long as they paid taxes to the crown.

At the time of Prince Edward’s birth at Woodstock in 1330, Guyenne had been for generations nothing more than a source of revenue and wine for the English crown, while the residents of Guyenne had become accustomed to running their own affairs with very little interference.

Everything changed with the death of the Charles IV, the last Capetian King of France, in 1328. Edward III of England was the eldest son of Charles IV’s sister Isabella of France. He claimed the throne of France through her, while the French chose to crown instead Philip of Valois, the son of Charles IV’s uncle, as Philip VI of France. This dispute over the succession to the crown of France spawned what is known as the Hundred Years War between England and France.

Medieval Depiction of the Hundred Years' War

That war came to Guyenne in 1337, the same year that Edward of Woodstock turned seven years old and was created Duke of Cornwall by his father. (He was already, since 1333, Earl of Chester.) Philip VI (like his ancestor Philip II) chose to strike at his rival on the English throne by confiscating and then attacking his territories on the continent, in this case what was left of the Aquitaine or Guyenne. From 1337 to 1340, the French laid waist to the towns and villages of Guyenne that did not acknowledge the sovereignty of Philip of Valois.

By a combination of force and bribery, Valois greatly reduced the English hold on Guyenne. The revenues the King of England had enjoyed from this rich province dried up and his prestige suffered significantly. By 1345, Edward III had had enough. He launched a counter-offensive against the French in Guyenne. Notably, however, he did not go himself, but rather sent “lieutenants,” who acted in his name, most notably the Duke of Lancaster.

In 1346, Edward III undertook his most ambitious campaign against France yet. (There had been two earlier attempts to win the French crown by force of arms.) The plan called for the Duke of Lancaster to fight north from Guyenne and join up with the main force under King Edward that would land in Brittany or Normandy. Although, the plan was not implemented for various reasons, Edward III won a significant victory over the French at the Battle of Crécy in Normandy on September 26, 1346.

Medieval Portrayal of the Battle of Crecy

His son, Edward of Woodstock, now aged 16 and since 1343 Prince of Wales, took part in the battle as the commander of the “van” — the division that took the brunt of the French attacks. It was a battle that immediately established Prince Edward’s credentials as an outstanding knight and was the start of his legend as a “flower of chivalry.”

Prince Edward went on to take part in the siege of Calais, which, after its fall on August 4, 1347, was settled with English and became a bastion of England inside of France for centuries to come. A year later Prince Edward was one of the founding members of the Order of the Garter and for the next eight years he distinguished himself more on the tourney fields than the battlefield.

Edward, Prince of Wales, as a Knight of the Garter

But in 1352, the French made a new assault on Guyenne under the command of the Comte d’Armagnac, a local lord loyal to the Valois. Armagnac succeeded in regaining much of the territory the Duke of Lancaster had been able to win back seven years earlier. By 1355, the situation had become acute enough for the Gascon lords loyal to England to appeal to King Edward for a new expedition. Edward III was ready to make a new bid for the French crown and he decided on the same strategy he had devised in 1346: a two pronged attack from the north and the south.

Surprisingly, he chose to send his eldest son, Edward of Woodstock, Earl of Chester, Duke of Cornwall and Prince of Wales, to go to Guyenne. From the sources, it appears that the choice was in direct response to a request from the loyal lords of Guyenne. They wanted the Prince because sending the Heir to the Throne represented a significantly greater commitment on the part of the English crown and so sent a strong signal to the French.

Edward of Woodstock's Coat of Arms

Thus it was not until he reached the age of 25 that Edward of Woodstock first set foot in the Aquitaine. He came as his father’s lieutenant, endowed with far reaching authority and near complete independence. His short-term mandate was to subdue and punish the disloyal lords and towns of Guyenne (those who had in the last decades done homage to the French king). His longer-term objective was to restore English control over the region, make the local population afraid of committing treason against the English crown in the future, and asserting his father’s claim to the throne of France. It was not a peaceful mission.

Prince Edward landed in Bordeaux on September 20, 1355 and in October he launched an offensive directed against the the Comte d’Armagnac, the French king’s proxy in Guyenne. Armagnac chose a defensive strategy, withdrawing behind the strong walls of Toulouse. Prince Edward had no siege equipment and the weather was turning bad; most commanders would have withdrawn to Bordeaux and enjoyed the wine and women for the winter.

Prince Edward instead took his raiding force past Toulouse and struck at the rich region east of Toulouse that had never been part of English Aquitaine and was completely unprepared for war. Tellingly, when Carcassonne offered a huge bribe to stop him from burning the town but refused to acknowledge the Plantagenet claim to the crown of France, Edward rejected the bribe. This raid had nothing to do with asserting English rights to the Aquitaine. Rather it was about his father’s claim to the French throne.

Prince Edward's Motto (curiously in German): I Serve

At Narbonne the raid reached its extreme limit, and thereafter Prince Edward masterfully extricated his dangerously exposed expeditionary force, avoiding being cut off by Armagnac. The raid allegedly destroyed 500 towns and villages and seriously damaged the economy of the region, thereby denying the Valois “usurper” valuable revenue while also intimidating the inhabitants. Militarily, it was audacious, brilliantly executed and successful. As a start to a long-term relationship with the Aquitaine, however, it was not particularly auspicious. As a means of winning the love of the residents of Aquitaine it was downright disastrous.

In the following year, Prince Edward carried out the plan to lead an army north from Guyenne as one part of a two-pronged pincer intended to strike at the heart of France and win his father the French crown. Again the armies failed to connect, and while withdrawing back toward Guyenne, Prince Edward was pinned down and surrounded by the combined forces of the Valois King, now John II, his sons and most of the major barons of France.

At a field near Eleanor of Aquitaine's beloved Poitiers, Prince Edward took up a defensive position exploiting the terrain as much as possible. He deployed his archers masterfully, and when the moment came he led a cavalry charge against the approaching forces of the French King that would not have shamed Richard the Lionheart. (Many accounts still claim that Prince Edward’s counter-attack was on foot, but Richard Barber argues very convincingly that the attack was mounted. See: Richard Barber, Edward, Prince of Wales and Aquitaine: A Biography of the Black Prince, Boydell, 1978.) At the end of the day, King John II of France was Prince Edward’s prisoner. It was a brilliant and decisive victory, far more significant than the Battle of Agincourt.

Medieval Depiction of the Battle of Poitiers

After wintering in Bordeaux with his immensely valuable prize, Prince Edward sailed for England in March 1357. Diplomacy replaced warfare as the French and English negotiated King John’s ransom and the terms of his release. Twice the Dauphin refused to accept the terms his father negotiated from weakness as a prisoner in London. In 1359, the English launched yet another invasion of France through Normandy, but the French refused to come out and fight (and risk another defeat like Crécy or Poitiers), but the English were not strong enough to seize Paris. Finally, on May 1, 1360 the Treaty of Brétigny was signed in which King Edward renounced his claim to the throne of France in exchange for obtaining a much expanded Aquitaine in full sovereignty, i.e. not as a vassal of the King of France (as Eleanor and Richard had been), but as an independent Principality. From at least this time if not before, King Edward intended his eldest son, Prince Edward, to rule over the Aquitaine.

Prince Edward does Homage to his father for the Aquitaine

Due to various disputes about the details and implementation of the treaty, it was not until July 19, 1362 that Prince Edward was officially named Prince of Aquitaine. In October the same year he finally married, and shortly afterwards departed to Bordeaux to take up his new duties. The territories he was sent to rule represented one third of the territory of France! The border extended beyond Poitiers, Eleanor of Aquitaine’s beloved residence, and beyond Limoges and Cahors, including the Rouergue with Rodez and Millau, and stopped only just short of Toulouse.

While Aquitaine in these borders were closer to what Eleanor of Aquitaine had inherited and held, in fact it incorporated many towns and lords whose loyalty was by now wholly French. It was more than 150 years since these regions had been ruled by Richard the Lionheart, and even in his day the barons had been restless and rebellious. Any loyalty they owed Richard had been as Duke of Aquitaine, not King of England. Furthermore, Eleanor and Richard had both spoken the langue d’oc of the region; Prince Edward did not. In retrospect, Prince Edward’s rule seems doomed to failure.

Prince Edward's Signet Ring, now in the Louvre

Yet he got off to a good start. From 1362-1367 he and his wife, Joan of Kent, presided over a brilliant and much admired court at Bordeaux. It was in Bordeaux that both their sons, Edward and Richard, were born. But in 1367, (at his father’s behest), Prince Edward was encouraged to become embroiled in a succession dispute in Castile. He agreed to support the legitimate King (Pedro, often referred to as “the Cruel”) against his bastard half-brother, Enrique of Trastamara, who was supported (surprise, surprise!) by the French.

The Spanish adventure, despite a brilliant battlefield victory at Najera in April 1367, was to prove catastrophic for Prince Edward. Pedro the Cruel reneged on his lavish promises to pay all the expenses of the campaign, forcing Edward to raise the money through taxes. Taxes are never popular, and now his new subjects, never fully reconciled to English rule, had a reason to rise up against him — encouraged, aided and abetted by the French, of course. Even more tragic, Prince Edward returned from Najera deathly ill. Although historians have never diagnosed with certainty just what the illness was, it slowly but surely debilitated and finally killed him.

The Diptych of Wilton from 1390, believed to be portraits of Richard II (kneeling), his father the Black Prince (uncrowned) and his grandfather (Edward III) and great (or great-great) grandfather, Edward II (or Edward I). Some historians suggest this is the most realistic portrait of the Black Prince.

In 1372, ten years after he had come to Aquitaine, Prince Edward left Bordeaux for the last time. He returned to England and surrendered the principality to his father. It is probable that he departed embittered by the disloyalty of his subjects. The revolt of the city of Limoges had so enraged him that he allowed it to be sacked by his troops, commanding, it is said, from a liter. The sack of Limoges has long been seen as a dark blot on his reputation as a chivalrous prince. He had also lost and buried his first born son, Edward in the Aquitaine.

Once in England, despite his deteriorating health, Prince Edward played an important role in politics. He opposed his senile father’s increasingly grasping mistress and supported the so-called “Good Parliament.” But he died before his father in 1376, leaving his second son Richard, to succeed at his father’s death as Richard II.

The Black Prince's lovely tomb in Canterbury Cathedral

Unlike Richard the Lionheart or Eleanor, Edward of Woodstock was first and foremost an Englishman.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Helena P. Schrader still hopes to write a biographical novel (in several parts!) about Edward Plantagenet, Prince of Wales and Aquitaine. Meanwhile, however, is is completing a three-part biographical novel about Balian d'Ibelin, who defended Jerusalem against Saladin in 1187, and later served as Richard the Lionheart's envoy, negotiating the end of the Third Crusade. 

Visit her website at: http://defenderofjerusalem.com or her blog: http://defendingcrusaderkingdoms.blogspot.com. She also has an author website: http://helenapschrader.com