Richard III Suffered an Ignominious Burial, Researchers Find 145
An anonymous reader writes "Richard III may have been the King of England and the subject of a Shakespearean play, but even that couldn't keep him safe from ending up in a hastily-dug grave that ultimately became part of a parking lot, according to a new study published in the journal Antiquity."
A bit of perspective folks... (Score:5, Interesting)
Remember that the new King, Henry Tudor, hereafter referred to as that Evil Bastard Henry VII (EBH7) dated his accession to the throne to the day BEFORE the battle of Bosworth, thus rendering those followers of Richard III who remaied loyal to the end traitors to the crown, and that the turncoats who ensured his victory would make sure they heaped as many indignities in the corpse of their former king as possible to demonstrate their loyalty to EBH7.
Given these circumstances, its entirely reasonable that the interrment of Richard would be done as quickly as possible, at the first opportunity that the body would not be missed. Originally the grave was in the church of the Grey Friars, probably in front of an altar and would have been deep enough not to cause "offence". It may have been hastily prepared and thus not quite the right size for Richard, but rather than indicating that the scenario was "ignominious", it shows that his remaining supporters wanted to bury him in a holy place, away from the vengance of EBH7s new supporters. Given the time constraints and the location, speed would have been of the essence. Just because it wasn't a State Funeral doesn't mean that it would not have been done without reverence. The fact that the site ended up as a car park can be indirectly ascribed to the activities of EBH7s son, Henry VIII who dissolved the monasteries, friaries, etc.
We're lucky that the grave still exists. Part of the foundations of a Victorian brick privy intrude into the burial site, a few feet further and he would have been completely obliterated.
I'll not speak ill of the dead (Score:4, Interesting)
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking glass;
I, that am rudely stamped and want love’s majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them—
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to see my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity.