Seven Vials—or The Luck of the Plantagenets

 I originally wrote this slightly odd piece as an online magazine submission. They didn't take it--I wasn't surprised. Even when I was writing it I thought maybe it was more of a blog post. And that's at least true in the sense that I am the only one who gets to decide what fits here and what doesn't.

I have been attending a series called Shakespeare Saturdays here in Santa Cruz. It's a longstanding group that I'm not really even a member of, but I do like to catch the lecture series they do once or twice a year. This year they are reading and eventually watching Richard II. The play can be a bit confusing coming to it cold, as it starts midquarrel. (Although 'quarrel' is too mild a term for a scene that will end in banishment and death.) 

The Coat of Arms of Edward III

They “were as seven vials of his sacred blood, or seven fair branches springing from one root.” So the Duchess of Gloucester says of the male progeny of Edward III, at least according to Shakespeare. Only four of these are even mentioned in Richard II, and two of these are already dead by the time the play has started. What happened to the other three? But let's take it from the top.

Coat of Arms of Edward, the Black Prince

First there was Edward, presumed heir. But he didn’t manage to outlive his father, so was never king. As you can see, his coat of arms looks pretty much like his dad's, except for the little additions which are called 'differences.'  (And speaking of differences, there will be a fair number of coats of arms in this post, so see if you can spot them.) Notice the white band with the three hanging stripes. In addition to his coat of arms, he had a very cool "peace shield": three white ostrich feathers on a field of black, which make the regular family coats of arms look, well, a bit conventional. And he did manage to father a future king (the very Richard we've been studying).

Prince Edward's Peace Shield

The ostrich feathers have come right on down through time and are part of the heraldic badge of the Prince of Wales to this day.

The next in line was Prince William of Hatfield. He doesn't feature in Shakespeare's play because he was only a few months old at the time of his death. So he doesn't have a coat of arms, but he does have a pretty impressive monument in York Minster complete with effigy, which represents him as a good bit older than he managed to become.

Monument of William of Hatfield

Lionel of Antwerp, the third son, also died before his father did, though he did live until he was almost thirty. Lionel was an unusual name even back then, but it turns out that his father King Edward III was quite fascinated with Arthurian lore and strongly admired and identified with Lionel, a knight of the Round Table. He even presented himself as Lionel at a Round Table tournement re-creation. Incidentally, this is all described at a wonderful treasure trove called Medievalist.Net, and I am citing an article on Edward III I found there.

The coat of arms of Lionel of Antwerp

Son number four was John, more famously known as John of Gaunt, thanks to Shakespeare. He was also the first duke of Lancaster. He has a short but important role in Richard II. It doesn’t look like he was ever a serious contender for the crown, because his older brother the Black Prince did have a son, who  became King Richard II. However, unlike both William and Lionel, he was lucky enough to have a son himself, Henry Bolingbroke, who in turn was not only lucky enough to become King Henry IV, but to have two Shakespearean plays with his name in the title, not to mention that he has a pretty big role in Richard II as well. 

the coat of arms of John of Gaunt

Edmund, the fifth son, has two distinctions. He became the first Duke of York, a house that very famously got into  battle with the aforementioned Lancasters. Not just any battle, but the War of the Roses, which lasted for over thirty years.As to the second distinction, he does have a pretty big part to play in Richard II. 

coat of arms of Edmund of Langley

Seemingly undeterred by the earlier outcome, Edward III named a second son William, but this one was only a couple of months old when he died of the plague. William was definitely not a lucky name in that family. However, he does have a wonderful monument in Westminster Cathedral, which he shares with his sister Blanche, who also died young.

Monument and effigies of William and Blanche

Which brings us at last to the seventh son, Thomas of Woodstock, the Duke of Gloucester. By the time Richard II starts, Thomas is already dead, apparently murdered, maybe at Richard’s behest. Unlucky indeed, but perhaps this is mitigated somewhat by the beautiful lines his widow speaks of him. Remember the seven vials? Here’s the Duchess again:

One vial full of Edward's sacred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt,
Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,
By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe.

Unlucky in life, but very lucky in his eulogy.

Arms of Thomas of Woodstock

I should probably point out at this point that despite Shakespeare's poetic framing of it, Edward III did not have seven children but twelve, five of them being girls. The ones that survived to adulthood married and had significant histories of their own. But they weren't in line for the throne, and they didn't have coats of arms. However, around the base of Edward III's tomb, there were brass statuettes of all the children, and though one side of it was vandalized and lost, the remaining side shows what it all must have looked like. Here we have Edward, the Black Prince, Joan of the Tower, Lionel, Edmund, Mary, Duchess of Brittany, and William of Hatfield. 

(All images come from Wikimedia Commons, mainly by way of an article on Wikipedia called Issue of Edward III of England.)