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Year of Three Kings: 1483
Richard III has the most controversial reputation of any English king. If he was the murderer of his two nephews and (as many contemporaries thought) the poisoner of his own wife, he has a place among the foremost villains of history. If however his only real crime was to have been on the losing side, then he is the victim of an extraordinary and enduring smear campaign. Which version is correct? Whether true or false, the legend of Richard III's villainy has embedded itself in the nation's consciousness. In this clear, careful narrative, first published in 1983 (the 500th anniversary of a year in which three kings occupied the throne of England) Giles St. Aubyn relates the violent and blood-stained story, his cool, witty style contrasting with the brutality of the period he describes.
208 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1983
5 people are currently reading
232 people want to read
About the author
Giles St. Aubyn
19 books3 followersSt. Aubyn taught history at Eton College for 40 years. He was a nephew of Vita Sackville-West and personal friend of John Beetjeman and John Le Carré.
He was considered an eccentric and was reserved, bordering on shy, and had an understanding of human nature which made him an accomplished biographer.
In his will be bequested money for the establisment of the RLS Giles St. Aubyn Award for Non-Fiction, which is awarded to writers working on their first book to help fund their research.
He was considered an eccentric and was reserved, bordering on shy, and had an understanding of human nature which made him an accomplished biographer.
In his will be bequested money for the establisment of the RLS Giles St. Aubyn Award for Non-Fiction, which is awarded to writers working on their first book to help fund their research.
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
December 13, 2022
The head of Eton’s history department wrote this for the five hundredth anniversary of the year in which Edward IV, Edward V and Richard III all reigned. The story naturally centres on why three kings reigned in such quick succession, which is to say why and how was the middle 12-year-old king deposed by the uncle into whose care he had been entrusted, and with what consequences? The best and most balanced account of this enduringly controversial tumult is in Charles Ross’s Richard III, but deliberately given up to as it is to thematic examination of how that King won and lost power, it misses some of the colourful detail. That is a shame, for only 1066, the one earlier year of many kings in English history, bears comparison to 1483 for rich drama and intrigue. This well-written account remedies that and is thus an excellent complement to Ross, whom St. Aubyn acknowledges generously and broadly concords with.
One of the ways St. Aubyn most enlivens his narrative is through frequent quotation of the finely phrased and lively 15th and 16th century historians on whom every later account has largely to be based. Unfortunately, he severely undermines this by giving his sources, not in footnotes where they could be readily spotted, but in an unnumbered list near the end. Identifying them is laborious indeed, but unless one is willing to, one has no way of telling whether they come from reliable sources or poor ones, or, in a few cases, are merely the opinions of modern writers. This is a fatal flaw in a book addressing such hard-fought controversy.
There are unfortunately a number of plain misunderstandings. Edward IV “defied the protests of his family” in deciding to marry Elizabeth Woodville (actually they only knew of it after the event); a pre-contract to marry between him and Eleanor Butler could not have bastardised Edward V since he was born after her death (it certainly would unless his parents had repeated their wedding in the meantime, which they did not). To contest that Clarence’s son Warwick was barred from the throne by his father’s attainder, he cites four kings who reigned “despite attainders”, but one of these was never attainted (Henry IV) and the other three only by disrecognised governments. Nor is it true to say an act of attainder only extinguished the hereditary rights specified in the act.
St. Aubyn makes a much larger number of unwarranted assumptions. Sometimes these merely add colour for its own sake, as when he claims Edward IV’s daughters hiding in sanctuary “yearned for a glimpse of a handsome young courtier.” Often though they involve reading backwards and distort his judgement. Richard III cannot have been devoted to Edward IV because of his later actions against his sons, he claims. As early as May 1483, Richard “must often have contemplated” usurping the throne. At the same time, Hastings’ “principal concern” was “his fear that the Protectorate might be prolonged, or, worse still, the young King deposed.” This is despite St. Aubyn’s apparent belief that Hastings had still suspected no plot when he was later seized in the Tower. He anachronistically asserts Richard was reputed a “hypocrite” for denouncing promiscuous adultery when he had bastards himself; actually in the fifteenth century people viewed fornication very differently to sleeping with other men’s wives.
He clearly tries to be as balanced as Ross in his judgement of Richard III, but his misunderstandings and unfair assumptions are too heavily weighted against him for full success. He seems unable to overcome the ingrained instincts of traditionalist suspicion of him quite enough to grasp what Ross made so poignantly clear: that Richard was faced with terrible dilemmas that would have strained the propriety of any prince in that violent age.
Unsurprisingly, therefore, St. Aubyn’s conclusions about Richard are sweeping (“most Englishmen rejoiced” in his final defeat), and damning: “even when every allowance is made for the degraded standards of his age, the fact remains that Richard fell far below them.” But it is in St. Aubyn’s final paragraph that he unwittingly exposes the underlying flaw in his approach: it is “irresistible”, he says, to conclude with the moral “whatsoever a man soweth that also shall he reap.” This is a finale worthy of Sir Thomas More, whose riveting account of Richard is aptly described by St. Aubyn as a morality tale rather than a true history.
Recommended nevertheless as one of the better, more trustworthy and sensible accounts.
Edmund Marlowe, author of Alexander's Choice, a novel. https://www.amazon.com/dp/191457107X
One of the ways St. Aubyn most enlivens his narrative is through frequent quotation of the finely phrased and lively 15th and 16th century historians on whom every later account has largely to be based. Unfortunately, he severely undermines this by giving his sources, not in footnotes where they could be readily spotted, but in an unnumbered list near the end. Identifying them is laborious indeed, but unless one is willing to, one has no way of telling whether they come from reliable sources or poor ones, or, in a few cases, are merely the opinions of modern writers. This is a fatal flaw in a book addressing such hard-fought controversy.
There are unfortunately a number of plain misunderstandings. Edward IV “defied the protests of his family” in deciding to marry Elizabeth Woodville (actually they only knew of it after the event); a pre-contract to marry between him and Eleanor Butler could not have bastardised Edward V since he was born after her death (it certainly would unless his parents had repeated their wedding in the meantime, which they did not). To contest that Clarence’s son Warwick was barred from the throne by his father’s attainder, he cites four kings who reigned “despite attainders”, but one of these was never attainted (Henry IV) and the other three only by disrecognised governments. Nor is it true to say an act of attainder only extinguished the hereditary rights specified in the act.
St. Aubyn makes a much larger number of unwarranted assumptions. Sometimes these merely add colour for its own sake, as when he claims Edward IV’s daughters hiding in sanctuary “yearned for a glimpse of a handsome young courtier.” Often though they involve reading backwards and distort his judgement. Richard III cannot have been devoted to Edward IV because of his later actions against his sons, he claims. As early as May 1483, Richard “must often have contemplated” usurping the throne. At the same time, Hastings’ “principal concern” was “his fear that the Protectorate might be prolonged, or, worse still, the young King deposed.” This is despite St. Aubyn’s apparent belief that Hastings had still suspected no plot when he was later seized in the Tower. He anachronistically asserts Richard was reputed a “hypocrite” for denouncing promiscuous adultery when he had bastards himself; actually in the fifteenth century people viewed fornication very differently to sleeping with other men’s wives.
He clearly tries to be as balanced as Ross in his judgement of Richard III, but his misunderstandings and unfair assumptions are too heavily weighted against him for full success. He seems unable to overcome the ingrained instincts of traditionalist suspicion of him quite enough to grasp what Ross made so poignantly clear: that Richard was faced with terrible dilemmas that would have strained the propriety of any prince in that violent age.
Unsurprisingly, therefore, St. Aubyn’s conclusions about Richard are sweeping (“most Englishmen rejoiced” in his final defeat), and damning: “even when every allowance is made for the degraded standards of his age, the fact remains that Richard fell far below them.” But it is in St. Aubyn’s final paragraph that he unwittingly exposes the underlying flaw in his approach: it is “irresistible”, he says, to conclude with the moral “whatsoever a man soweth that also shall he reap.” This is a finale worthy of Sir Thomas More, whose riveting account of Richard is aptly described by St. Aubyn as a morality tale rather than a true history.
Recommended nevertheless as one of the better, more trustworthy and sensible accounts.
Edmund Marlowe, author of Alexander's Choice, a novel. https://www.amazon.com/dp/191457107X
September 24, 2014
One of the books that I stash away and read a page or two at a time, I found the history of this interesting, but disagree with both his conclusion about Richard III, and the fact that looking at him charitably was practically dismissed as a "bored housewife concern based upon Josephine Tey's "Daughter of Time."
April 27, 2021
Anyone who is a fan of Shakespeare's "Richard III" knows this story: the three kings are Edward IV, his young son Edward V (one of the "princes" in the Tower of London--he was actually the uncrowned king), and the usurper Richard III. The story details all the villainy, the machinations and hidden motivations, the tragedies of this ending of the War of the Roses, one of England's civil wars. It's really a story of five kings, the king Edward IV dethroned (Henry VI) who begins the action and Henry Tudor who becomes Henry VII, who ends the action. Since the history itself provides drama, mystery, violent death, and crucial battle, along with the crucial moral strength and weakness of those who experienced these events, this author's task was just to uncover details and motivations clearly and with historical accuracy to author a gripping history that reads like an episode of Game of Thrones. This author does a masterly job of identifying what is known to be factual, what sources indicate may be factual, and the connections and conclusions various historians make based on the facts and near facts.
May 29, 2019
Not an easy read. English author is quite wordy and jumps back in time frequently to bring up previous characters and political situations, few of which were familiar to me. THen there's the names of nobility, creating the problem of multiple ways to reference an individual, depending on the time frame or his or her family name or noble title: Is he Henry Tudor, or the Duke of this place or another, or King Henry, or what? It all depends...
I read this for the history, but there are two more chapters after the death of Richard III, one going back over historians' differing opinions of the usurper's character and motivations; and another, I guess, discussing Richard III treatment by succeeding generations in literature and history, and why we needed all that is a mystery to me.
I read this for the history, but there are two more chapters after the death of Richard III, one going back over historians' differing opinions of the usurper's character and motivations; and another, I guess, discussing Richard III treatment by succeeding generations in literature and history, and why we needed all that is a mystery to me.
June 11, 2017
This was a re-read for me. I needed to get away from my usual fiction. I originally read St. Aubyn's books around 25 years ago. I recommend this to anyone interested in England's history and succession. This biography of Richard III is kinder than other I've read. This book gets's past his modern day demonization of a power crazed madman. I always have liked an antihero. The writing style is fluid, interesting and informative. It's well researched and accurate.
May 22, 2024
An interesting read but the author seems to be saying that we don’t know the facts but, a number of authors report the same rumors so they must be true. The narrative of Richard’s life is interesting and well told but I think St. Aubyn makes jumps to some unsupported conclusions.
May 9, 2025
A thoroughly enjoyable and intriguing history of Richard III and his short reign over England.
March 13, 2014
The Year of Three Kings
by Giles St. Aubyn
All this talk of civil war in the middle of Islamo-land got me to working on my book shelves. Yeah I know, it seems a little “See No Evil”-ish, but I can’t help but compare our present world to that which has already been stamped into our collective thought processes. Looking at history, I wonder how we got to our uniquely American process of debate (and not obfuscate). Will we be led to a consummation of the dogs of war? Believe it or not—stick with me here—Richard III bears some current relevancy. And what of those who debated the royal figures of yore? Many times they were “stamped” themselves.
Many years ago, I used to be quite the Shakespearean dilettante, having read nearly every work of the Bard, and even going so far as to study his tragedies under the tutelage of the esteemed John Velz of The University of Texas at Austin.
But as of late, most of my scholastick memories are dimm’d, and I can nary recall a fathom of verse from anywhere in the digest of English literary dramaticks.
Not long ago, I uncovered a book from my past—it was one of dad’s (or mom’s?)—called The Year of Three Kings: 1483, by Giles St. Aubyn. The original publish date was 1983, and I’ve just about wrecked the dust cover by toting it around the last week or so.
The title is a little deceptive. I mean, three kings are discussed, along with the lineages and patronages of about 40 other late-medieval-to-early English Renaissance individuals of celebrity. But ultimately, the book is about Richard III, and whether or not he was such a bad guy.
Anyone who’s ever read One Hundred Years of Solitude knows that following a plotline is difficult enough without having to remember which Duke of Gloucester is which or which Richard from Shakespeare the “Summer sun of York” is referring. Or if Lawrence Olivier was better as Richard III or as Heathcliffe, or if Henry VI was the wimpy king and if it was really Edward the VIII who married Mrs. Simpson and they lived happily ever after being Nazis on a Caribbean island. PTL for the Internets, because I could never keep the Henrys and the Edwards straight when I was in school and I don’t know how I ever got enough questions right to earn a four-year degree. And you folks reading this right now should be thanking God I went into the creative literary arts and not surgery.
Hey, but my point is, I really really like it a lot when an author-historian can keep all that stuff straight for me. And because the book does (eventually) drill down narrowly enough to focus our ire or attention on Richard III, we can keep the rest of the worldly realms in proper context.
I got a nice buzz out of reading this book 30 years after its release, and juxtaposing it with the fresh-off-the-wires news from the UK Guardian of how the bones of Ricky 3 had been unearthed before the foundation for a convenience store was about to become the sarcophagus-top of his eternal tomb. Shakespeare referred to Ricky 3 in his “fictional” work as a “hunchback”. St. Aubyn believed from his research that that was a fabrication. Both Men of Letters were wrong (kinda sorta)! The irksome King had scoliosis, as it was highly apparent from the position and present condition of the skeletal remains.
Did that make him mean? I dunno! It is somewhat problematic, as St. Aubyn points out, that the guy was nice enough that he could be entrusted to the be the guardian of his nephew and heir-apparent, the 13-year old Edward V, one minute, and the next minute, he’s pell-mell knocking off dukes and children and heir-apparents all over the place.
I’m exaggerating. But I’m not. That’s what’s so funny about the whole story.
St. Aubyn puts it quite bluntly, and here I paraphrase one of his historian-contemporaries: by our (20th-century) frame of mind, what Ricky 3 did is quite appalling. But in the context of civil-war torn England in the 15th century, “Meh.”
Nonetheless, it really makes one wonder if someday we as Americans won’t become immune or inured to the mishandlings and non-transparent miscreant deeds of a less-than-scrupulous hunchback leader. I think this latest summer Constitutional manhandling has the makings of becoming a winter of discontent for many honest Americans. Unfortunately, Presidents aren’t known to stand on the frontlines of their own wars, taking on the spears, as Ricky 3 was. Our divine election is still ours and not the kingmakers’.
by Giles St. Aubyn
All this talk of civil war in the middle of Islamo-land got me to working on my book shelves. Yeah I know, it seems a little “See No Evil”-ish, but I can’t help but compare our present world to that which has already been stamped into our collective thought processes. Looking at history, I wonder how we got to our uniquely American process of debate (and not obfuscate). Will we be led to a consummation of the dogs of war? Believe it or not—stick with me here—Richard III bears some current relevancy. And what of those who debated the royal figures of yore? Many times they were “stamped” themselves.
Many years ago, I used to be quite the Shakespearean dilettante, having read nearly every work of the Bard, and even going so far as to study his tragedies under the tutelage of the esteemed John Velz of The University of Texas at Austin.
But as of late, most of my scholastick memories are dimm’d, and I can nary recall a fathom of verse from anywhere in the digest of English literary dramaticks.
Not long ago, I uncovered a book from my past—it was one of dad’s (or mom’s?)—called The Year of Three Kings: 1483, by Giles St. Aubyn. The original publish date was 1983, and I’ve just about wrecked the dust cover by toting it around the last week or so.
The title is a little deceptive. I mean, three kings are discussed, along with the lineages and patronages of about 40 other late-medieval-to-early English Renaissance individuals of celebrity. But ultimately, the book is about Richard III, and whether or not he was such a bad guy.
Anyone who’s ever read One Hundred Years of Solitude knows that following a plotline is difficult enough without having to remember which Duke of Gloucester is which or which Richard from Shakespeare the “Summer sun of York” is referring. Or if Lawrence Olivier was better as Richard III or as Heathcliffe, or if Henry VI was the wimpy king and if it was really Edward the VIII who married Mrs. Simpson and they lived happily ever after being Nazis on a Caribbean island. PTL for the Internets, because I could never keep the Henrys and the Edwards straight when I was in school and I don’t know how I ever got enough questions right to earn a four-year degree. And you folks reading this right now should be thanking God I went into the creative literary arts and not surgery.
Hey, but my point is, I really really like it a lot when an author-historian can keep all that stuff straight for me. And because the book does (eventually) drill down narrowly enough to focus our ire or attention on Richard III, we can keep the rest of the worldly realms in proper context.
I got a nice buzz out of reading this book 30 years after its release, and juxtaposing it with the fresh-off-the-wires news from the UK Guardian of how the bones of Ricky 3 had been unearthed before the foundation for a convenience store was about to become the sarcophagus-top of his eternal tomb. Shakespeare referred to Ricky 3 in his “fictional” work as a “hunchback”. St. Aubyn believed from his research that that was a fabrication. Both Men of Letters were wrong (kinda sorta)! The irksome King had scoliosis, as it was highly apparent from the position and present condition of the skeletal remains.
Did that make him mean? I dunno! It is somewhat problematic, as St. Aubyn points out, that the guy was nice enough that he could be entrusted to the be the guardian of his nephew and heir-apparent, the 13-year old Edward V, one minute, and the next minute, he’s pell-mell knocking off dukes and children and heir-apparents all over the place.
I’m exaggerating. But I’m not. That’s what’s so funny about the whole story.
St. Aubyn puts it quite bluntly, and here I paraphrase one of his historian-contemporaries: by our (20th-century) frame of mind, what Ricky 3 did is quite appalling. But in the context of civil-war torn England in the 15th century, “Meh.”
Nonetheless, it really makes one wonder if someday we as Americans won’t become immune or inured to the mishandlings and non-transparent miscreant deeds of a less-than-scrupulous hunchback leader. I think this latest summer Constitutional manhandling has the makings of becoming a winter of discontent for many honest Americans. Unfortunately, Presidents aren’t known to stand on the frontlines of their own wars, taking on the spears, as Ricky 3 was. Our divine election is still ours and not the kingmakers’.
August 25, 2014
This history of the eventful year 1483 (and surrounding events) in England was written for the five hundredth anniversary in 1983. The three kings in question are Edward IV, Edward V and of course, Richard III, formerly the Duke of Gloucester. 1483 ushered in the final act of the War of the Roses, a series of succession crises about the throne of England.
Richard is the most famous of these kings, his actions to take the crown being controversial even in his own time. The public may be most familiar with his depiction in William Shakespeare’s play "Richard the Third". That play was heavily based on a negative portrayal by Sir Thomas More in his history of the period. There have since been revisionist versions of Richard’s life, both negative and positive.
This book seeks to sort through the primary sources for the actual facts available, and examine what probably really happened. It comes with a dramatis personae, numerous family tree diagrams, some black and white photographs, extensive end notes, a limited bibliography (only those works directly cited in the volume) and an index.
While the author attempts to be even-handed, he is not above editorial comment, showing disapproval of certain historical personages. He also is somewhat dismissive of Josephine Tey’s "The Daughter of Time" (a novel in which a hospitalized detective applies himself to the historical mystery of whether Richard murdered his nephews) as part of a trend by “women” to favor unduly positive views of Richard.
There’s also 15th Century sexism on display in several of the direct quotes from the sources of the time.
The author’s conclusion seems to be that while Richard III was not the villain painted in the Tudor propaganda, he was no innocent either. He did some very good things for the people, but only in the service of claiming and keeping the throne. The disastrous circumstances caused by the murky succession and various dubious favoritism moments by kings before him made Richard’s power grab vital to his self-defense. But he may not have planned to go so far as he did.
This is a good starting point for those interested in this period of history, but the serious student will want to supplement it with other scholarly biographies and histories of Richard and the other people involved.
Richard is the most famous of these kings, his actions to take the crown being controversial even in his own time. The public may be most familiar with his depiction in William Shakespeare’s play "Richard the Third". That play was heavily based on a negative portrayal by Sir Thomas More in his history of the period. There have since been revisionist versions of Richard’s life, both negative and positive.
This book seeks to sort through the primary sources for the actual facts available, and examine what probably really happened. It comes with a dramatis personae, numerous family tree diagrams, some black and white photographs, extensive end notes, a limited bibliography (only those works directly cited in the volume) and an index.
While the author attempts to be even-handed, he is not above editorial comment, showing disapproval of certain historical personages. He also is somewhat dismissive of Josephine Tey’s "The Daughter of Time" (a novel in which a hospitalized detective applies himself to the historical mystery of whether Richard murdered his nephews) as part of a trend by “women” to favor unduly positive views of Richard.
There’s also 15th Century sexism on display in several of the direct quotes from the sources of the time.
The author’s conclusion seems to be that while Richard III was not the villain painted in the Tudor propaganda, he was no innocent either. He did some very good things for the people, but only in the service of claiming and keeping the throne. The disastrous circumstances caused by the murky succession and various dubious favoritism moments by kings before him made Richard’s power grab vital to his self-defense. But he may not have planned to go so far as he did.
This is a good starting point for those interested in this period of history, but the serious student will want to supplement it with other scholarly biographies and histories of Richard and the other people involved.
December 31, 2011
Not too bad for an older political history. A bit dry and confusing at times with all the names and relations and inter-marriages. It helps to have family trees for reference for this sort of inter-family civil war story.
I got interested in the the Wars of the Roses (they didn't call them that at the time!) from Game of Thrones. I can definitely see the inspiration.
I got interested in the the Wars of the Roses (they didn't call them that at the time!) from Game of Thrones. I can definitely see the inspiration.
January 5, 2016
While there's little historical record left from this period of history, and much of it consists of extended family trees, which can be rather dull, this book handled the subject well, and gave a good overview of the controversies surrounding Richard III. Unfortunately, it is now out of date due to the discover of Richard III's grave.
January 17, 2009
Wars of the Roses
Want to read
October 28, 2010epfl
February 23, 2013
Good, if dated. Not for beginners or those unfamiliar with the Wars of the Roses and the Battle of Bosworth.
April 11, 2015
Not bad except for the fact that he is wrong about Richard III.
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews