Richard III’s reburial has reignited a Facebook War of the Roses

Debate is raging online as to where the newly-rediscovered royal remains should be buried.

 

If you thought the Wars of the Roses ended with the death of Richard III at Bosworth, then think again. The question of where his bones are to be laid to rest is proving divisive among legions of the maligned King’s twenty-first century followers. But instead of raising their halberds and swords in defence of the House of York, their chosen field of battle is the complex and often anonymous arena of social networking sites. Historians have long rejected the notion that a neat line was drawn under the Plantagenets in 1485, but with news emerging this week that death threats have been made to the Dean of York, it is clear that the war is far from over.

When the Leicester dig was first planned, the University had to make provision for the suitable reinterment of any human remains that were unearthed. At the time, their chances of finding Richard were slight and have since been calculated by University mathematicians as being less than one per cent before the first diggers even lifted the tarmac in the car park. Unexpectedly, though, a combination of incredible luck and careful planning meant that they hit the jackpot on day one. After the euphoria of the press conference faded, the thorny question resurfaced of what to do with his bones. While the University thought it had that covered, Richard’s fans have other ideas.

The two main contenders for guardianship of the bones are the Cathedrals of Leicester and York. Usual archaeological practice supports burial at the nearest possible location to the exhumation site but many Ricardians around the world have questioned this. The King’s connection with Leicester is that of ignominious defeat, whilst he was known to have been fond of York and his plans to establish a chapel inside its Cathedral are suggestive to some of his desire to be buried there. It was also the Mayor of York’s sergeant who raised a lone voice in lamentation of Richard’s “piteous” murder “to the great heaviness of this city”. Westminster Abbey is the usual burial site of English kings, although Richard’s reign was brief and his identity as a Lord of the North has been well established in recent scholarship. The bones of his wife, Anne Neville currently lie in the Abbey under a slab erected by the Richard III Society, following her death in March, 1485. There is also St George’s Chapel Windsor, where his elder brother Edward IV lies and All Saints’ Church at Richard’s childhood home of Fotheringhay, where his father was reinterred during Edward’s reign. Yet, the debate, which has become polarised now between York and Leicester, is taking such a vituperative turn that it has provoked debate in the House of Commons and intervention by the police.

An engraving of Richard III. Image: Hulton Archive/Getty

The case against Leicester is being fought passionately. Some campaigners have cited the pattern of wounds on Richard’s body, many of which were inflicted purely for humiliation as he was carried back into the city, as a powerful reason to lay him to rest elsewhere. There is also the diminutive size of Leicester Cathedral, which was only designated as such in 1927. This week, plans for the king’s tomb have provoked more controversy, as the initial seven foot limestone casket, designed by the Society may prove too large for its intended location. Plans for the £30,000 monument have been developed since 2010 and have been well received, although the problem of size has been raised since they were formed. A floor slab has been offered instead but this will not satisfy the thousands of visitors who are expected to flock there to pay their respects. Over 24,000 people have now signed an e-petition to revoke the planning order to lay his bones in the city where he was found. Nine of Richard’s living relatives, descendants of his siblings, also added their voices to the melee, asking for him to be “brought home” to York.

Richard’s battle has even infiltrated Parliament. In response to such strong feeling, York MPs Hugh Bayley and Julian Sturdy raised the matter in a Private Members’ debate in the House of Commons this Tuesday, claiming that the original decision had been made in the interests “of the state”, not the people. After all, this was an anointed King of England, but one that has warranted unprecedented interest and devotion. They suggested that a committee be set up to investigate his reburial and that all current proceedings by the University of Leicester be halted. Bayley referred to the Wars of the Roses, now commonly called the Cousins’ War, as “a nasty, bloody civil war that tore our country apart.” It is in the modern media of online forums, that the war has turned nasty.

It was to be expected that Facebook would be set alight by the story. What was unpredictable though, is the level of nastiness into which some participants have descended. While a number of new pages have popped up like mushrooms since the Leicester excavations, there were already a number of history groups in existence, active in the promotion of Richard’s life and times. Equally popular are those dedicated to his immediate successors, the Tudors, whose founding member, Henry VII, defeated the last Yorkist king at Bosworth. The debate began good-naturedly, with the vast majority of participants in these sites being friendly and united in their passion for the past. Some are unfailingly partisan in defence of their chosen side, which is to be expected but sadly, a few have descended into unpleasantness. Facebook and discussion forums can be wonderful places to share knowledge and make new friends. Unfortunately, their anonymity also offers a platform for extremists and trolls, whose intention is to provoke upset. Richard’s cause has attracted a number of these.

Thankfully the online troublemakers are in the minority. The nature of their interactions makes them easy to spot. Of course there is a difference between those who argue their case with vehemence but remain respectful and others whose intention is to abuse. In the last few weeks I have witnessed personal insults, slanders and accusations directed against intelligent and interested parties taking part in particular discussion threads. Some have been called “non-believers” or criticised for not caring about Richard in “the right way”. This is regrettable, as all participants are theoretically on the same side, united in their passion for history. It is indicative of a subjectivity that refuses to allow new interpretations of Richard’s life and reign, excluding some of the best academic research. Fortunately, the majority have been appalled by this behaviour and are prepared to say so publicly. Now, though, the debate has tipped over into the criminal. It emerges that the Very Reverend Vivienne Faull, Dean of York Cathedral, recently Dean of Leicester, has received a number of abusive letters and emails. She has put these in the hands of the police but calls for calm and respect for the King’s memory, while the matter is resolved.

While feeling will always run high on this issue, such activities have damaged the debate. Many original participants have become disillusioned with the tone it has taken and are now keen for it to end. On Wednesday 13 March, Leicester Cathedral published the design brief for the architects responsible for creating the king’s last resting place. Their timescale predicts that the “reception of his remains” will take place in May 2014 and conform with English Heritage’s 2005 document “Best practice for treatment of human remains excavated from Christian burial grounds in England.” No doubt through the next fourteen months debate will continue to rage but at this point, it is worthwhile considering what we can learn from history. If the bloody conflicts that ended Richard’s life teach us nothing else, let us conduct ourselves with civility, dignity and a sense of proportion. Surely those who care about Richard’s final resting place will agree that reason argument is the best way to prove their loyalty to him.

 

The newly-rediscovered skull of Richard III. Photograph: Getty Images

Amy Licence is a late medieval and early Tudor historian focusing on women's lives. She is the author of the forthcoming biography Anne Neville, Richard III’s Tragic Queen and her blog can be found here.

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In the name of the father: Patricia Lockwood on sex, centaurs and Catholicism

The author of the viral poem “Rape Joke” talks about growing up with her gun-toting Catholic “priestdaddy”.

“Oh my fricking God. It’s a centaur.” The American poet Patricia Lockwood and I are in the lobby of a Whitehall hotel and she is finding the quantity of equine art distracting. I have already been skipped along a corridor to examine the bizarrely detailed rendering of a horse’s anus in a Napoleonic painting (“They made a point of doing him straight up the butt”) that turns out to be a copy of Théodore Géricault’s Charging Chasseur. Now a statue on the mantelpiece has caught her eye, prompting a reverie on what she saw at the British Museum a couple of days ago: “A wonderful statue of a man kneeing a centaur in the balls. It’s the most important thing to me there. It’s so beautiful.”

The confluence of violence, sex, orifices, animals and mythology runs throughout Lockwood’s work in wild and witty poems such as “The Whole World Gets Together and Gangbangs a Deer” (inspired by the realisation that “Bambi is a puberty movie”) and “Revealing Nature Photographs” (pastoral verse meets porn spam) – and it also colours her new book, Priestdaddy, a deeply idiosyncratic family memoir in which copulation is a go-to metaphor. Her dad’s frenzied, tuneless playing raises the prospect that he might be “having sex with the guitar”; during Lockwood’s teenage depression, she writes, the only thing she was having sex with “was the intolerable sadness of the human condition, which sucked so much in bed”.

Lockwood (pictured at her First Holy Communion) has dark, cropped hair and elfin features, pearly white nails and sleeping cats on her knees (an effect achieved with decorated tights – “Let this be for the stocking boys,” she says). Her voice is deadpan, frequently dipping into laughter without losing her poise. She is one day off her 35th birthday and has been married since she was 21. Her father, Greg, is a priest and, along with her four siblings in a succession of rectories across the Midwest, she was raised a Catholic – thus ensuring, she says, the permanent sexual warping of her mind.

“We Catholics become perverts because of the way sex is discussed in strictly negative terms. I saw pictures of aborted foetuses before I knew what basic anatomy was.”

As a devout teenager, she attended a youth group called God’s Gang and was given a virginity pledge in the form of a business card. The group leaders had a “very hip and young” approach: “We’re going to tell you every single thing you can do, in explicit terms, and just be like, ‘But don’t do it.’”

The ribald humour of her writing – Lockwood is renowned on Twitter for her surreal “sexts” – often contains a darkness. The poem that made her name, “Rape Joke”, takes her experience of being raped at 19 by a boyfriend and metes it out in discrete, increasingly devastating soundbites and images. It was posted online in 2013 and went viral, leading to a publishing deal for her collection Motherland Fatherland Homelandsexuals.

After the rape, Lockwood was “absolutely insane” for about five years, but it’s not as if she was entirely happy before: at 16, she had attempted suicide by taking a hundred Tylenol tablets. Her memoir recounts, too, being embedded in a church mired in scandal, a claustrophobic situation that hit home when a priest close to her was arrested for having sex with a 14-year-old boy. Such events led to Lockwood abandoning her faith and escaping with Jason, her future husband, whom she met on an online poetry messageboard.

When Patricia was 30, she and Jason ran out of money and moved back to the rectory, allowing her to observe her parents afresh. The resulting portraits in Priestdaddy are larger than life: her mother, Karen, is a hyperactive generator of mad puns and proverbs; her ex-navy father is a self-mythologising, right-wing whirlwind of talk radio, guns and Tom Clancy novels. Married Catholic priests are rare but Greg, previously a Lutheran minister, got the pope’s permission to convert. Usually to be found in his underwear, he wants for no new expensive gadget or guitar, though the family is expected to make sacrifices. In 2001, two weeks before Patricia – who learned to read at three and was writing poetry at seven – was supposed to leave for college, he told her that they couldn’t afford it. He later “changed the story in his mind so that I had said I don’t need to go”.

“Growing up in my household,” she says, “all of these far-right, retrograde ideas of gender roles and the man as patriarch existed from the very beginning. But I didn’t think of my house as a bellwether of what was going to happen.” It came as no surprise to her that Greg and many like him voted for Trump. When she reported on a Trump rally in February 2016, she “moved like a ghost through the crowd. They saw me as one of their own.”

Anger at her father’s selfishness “would be useless”, and Lockwood respects his sense of vocation, which she feels she has inherited. She has believed in her own genius ever since she was writing “mermaids-having-sex-with-Jesus poems” at the age of 19. Jason is her support staff, licking her envelopes and buying her clothes. His offering the previous day was a T-shirt emblazoned with Justin Bieber’s face: it revealed how much she resembles the singer – “a full 90 per cent overlap” – and is definitely not ironic.

“Do you think we only got irony after Christ was crucified?” she wonders, and then spots two black-clad priests in dog collars who have sat down across the room from us. “Ooh,” she exclaims, awed and delighted, and then, in a whisper, ever confident in her powers of creation: “I manifested them.”

“Priestdaddy: A Memoir” is published by Allen Lane. “Motherland Fatherland Homelandsexuals” is published by Penguin

Tom Gatti is Culture Editor of the New Statesman. He previously edited the Saturday Review section of the Times, and can be found on Twitter as @tom_gatti.

 

This article first appeared in the 25 May 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Why Islamic State targets Britain

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