Has England's Greatest Murder Mystery Been Solved?

Philippa Langley’s ‘The Princes in the Tower’ offers a fresh take on one of England’s most famous historical mysteries: the disappearance of Edward V and his brother, Richard, Duke of York, in 1483. Best known for her pivotal role in discovering the remains of Richard III, Langley brings her enthusiasm and investigative skills to this book. However, while the work has some merits, it falls short in crucial areas, particularly in its handling of sources, which raises concerns about the objectivity and scholarly rigor of her conclusions.

One of the key strengths of ‘The Princes in the Tower’ is Langley’s willingness to challenge the traditional narrative that casts Richard III as the villain responsible for the princes’ deaths. This view, immortalised by Tudor chroniclers like Sir Thomas More and Shakespeare, is treated with scepticism by Langley, who argues that the evidence against Richard is not as concrete as often assumed. She suggests alternative theories, pointing to political rivals such as Henry VII or the Woodvilles as having more to gain from the princes' disappearance.

Her exploration of the broader political dynamics of the time is well-researched and thought-provoking. Langley delves into the motivations of the key players and provides a compelling argument for re-examining the historical narrative, which has long been skewed by Tudor propaganda. This approach invites readers to look beyond simplistic explanations and consider the possibility that Richard III’s culpability may not be as clear-cut as previously thought.

However, Langley’s handling of historical sources, particularly primary ones, undermines much of the book’s credibility. While she draws from a rich variety of documents, her interpretation and scrutiny of these sources often fall flat. The most glaring issue is her tendency to overstate the significance of certain records without adequately addressing counterevidence or engaging in critical analysis. Her selective treatment of sources sometimes feels like an effort to bolster a pre-existing conclusion rather than a balanced investigation.

For instance, in Chapter 5, Langley disputes the commonly held belief that Richard III’s illegitimate son, John of Gloucester, is referred to as “the Lord Bastard” in two administrative records from 1484 and 1485. Langley instead argues that these references are to Edward V, who was labelled a bastard after being deposed. This conclusion stretches credulity, especially given that historical records often referred to high-born illegitimate children as “Lord” regardless of their peerage status. The records in question likely refer to John of Gloucester, whose title as “Lord Bastard” fits with other known examples, such as Edward IV’s illegitimate son being described similarly.

Another example comes from Langley’s reliance on the so-called “Lille receipt,” which she presents as evidence that at least one of the princes survived into 1487. This receipt, which documents the purchase of pikes for an army serving the Dowager Duchess Margaret of Burgundy, mentions “the son of King Edward.” Langley suggests this could refer to Edward V, but this interpretation ignores several key factors. First, the administrative purpose of the receipt was merely to document a transaction, not to provide a detailed account of English political intrigue. Second, Langley dismisses the widespread belief that the boy in question was Edward, Earl of Warwick (a nephew of Edward IV), and does not adequately explain why the rest of Europe seemed to accept this version of events. This selective use of evidence weakens her argument significantly.

Langley’s tendency to speculate and over-interpret sources is a recurring issue throughout the book. One particularly problematic example is her use of Bernard André’s account, a biographer of Henry VII. André’s confused writings suggest that the pretender in Ireland during the 1487 Battle of Stoke claimed to be “the son of Edward IV,” which Langley takes as further proof of Edward V’s survival. However, André’s account is riddled with inconsistencies, including identifying the boy as Richard, Duke of York, rather than Edward V. André’s draft writings, likely muddled by his blindness and the chaos of dictation, are not reliable enough to serve as evidence for such a bold claim. This selective reading of the evidence exemplifies Langley’s tendency to force the sources to fit her theory, rather than allow them to stand on their own merit.

On a more positive note, Langley’s writing style is engaging and accessible. She has a talent for storytelling, and her passion for the subject is evident throughout the book. This makes ‘The Princes in the Tower’ an enjoyable read for a general audience, especially those interested in historical mysteries. However, the same accessibility that makes the book so readable also contributes to a lack of depth in its analysis. Langley frequently oversimplifies complex issues, favouring a streamlined narrative over the messy intricacies of 15th-century politics.

While Philippa Langley’s ‘The Princes in the Tower’ offers an intriguing counter-narrative to the conventional view of Richard III, it ultimately fails to live up to its potential. The book’s speculative leaps and problematic handling of sources detract from its scholarly value. Langley’s evident bias in favour of Richard III, coupled with her selective reading of the evidence, undermines the strength of her argument. While the book may appeal to those already inclined to believe in Richard’s innocence, it misses the opportunity to make a meaningful contribution to the academic debate surrounding the fate of the princes.