Podcast home
We are excited to bring you Quarantea, a limited-run miniseries! Quarantea will cover some of the most devastating epidemics and pandemics in human history, from the Plague of Athens to the Yellow Fever outbreak in Philadelphia. Join us (from a safe distance!) as we figure out what we can learn from the past and how it can help us navigate today’s global pandemic.
Stay safe!
In this episode, we give a brief primer on the The Wars of The Roses, discuss the major players involved in the mystery that is the Princes in the Tower, and give a shoutout to Sean Bean and Yorkshire Gold tea.
Listen on Buzzsprout here!
Welcome to our coverage of the Princes in the Tower! While many of us have probably heard about this historical mystery, it’s a much better story if you know the background. So let’s do a quick recap of about 100 years of English history and the roots of the War of the Roses!
It all began in 1377, when Edward the III died and left his heir to inherit the throne. Unfortunately, his heir, Edward the Black Prince of Wales, had died the year before.
Now, in England at the time the laws of primogeniture meant that the firstborn son would inherit the throne. There’s two ways to interpret this. It could mean the oldest son and his line, or the oldest son and then to his brothers in order of age. In this case, they went with the first option, and the crown went to the Black Prince’s son Richard.
Richard the Second (henceforth to be referred to as Ricky) became king at age 10. There was a precedent for this, it wasn’t unheard of for an heir to be very young when they inherited the throne. Usually the solution was a regency: other nobles governed the country while slowly training in the heir. When the heir came of age, they would take the reins. In this case, the regents were Ricky’s uncles: Uncle One, John of Gaunt (also known as the Duke of Lancaster) and Uncle Two: Thomas of Gloucester.
These two regents were, of course, younger sons of Edward III. And they felt that, being sons of the king, they should have had their turn to inherit before their nephew. On top of this, Ricky wasn’t knocking it out of the park as a king. Though he did shine in a few instances (such as the Peasants’ Revolt), he had a tendency to play favorites and that did not go over well with his court. His uncle Thomas led a rebellion attempting to depose Ricky, but was ultimately unsuccessful (read: executed). However, Ricky’s government was ready to topple, and there was someone ready to do the toppling.
And who was it? To answer that, we’ll have to return to Uncle One, John of Gaunt. He had gotten married and had an heir named Henry, Duke of Bolingbroke. Bolingbroke thought that he had a claim to the throne– in his opinion, it should have gone to his father in the first place. So he headed up a revolt, convinced Parliament to recognize him as King, and sent Ricky to starve in a castle in the north.
As the son of John of Gaunt, Bolingbroke’s reign began the House of Lancaster. When he passed away, his son inherited fairly smoothly. You may remember him as the very-forgettable, totally-not-a-big-deal Henry the Fifth.
Henry has been seen historically as one of the greatest kings of England. He went to war with France and won, something England had been seeking for many years. He married Catherine of Valois, daughter of the French king, with and agreement from her father that their son would be crowned king of both England and France. He is said to have been harsh but fair, which was seen as the ideal balance in ruling. In summary, he set a bar for kingship that would stand in England for hundreds of years.
Unfortunately, just a little more than two years after sealing his truce with France, Henry was dead.
All was not lost, though. Henry had left an heir, yet another Henry. Unfortunately, he was still a baby. So though Baby Henry was crowned king of England and France, another regency would be necessary to keep the kingdom until he reached his majority. His mother, now the Dowager Queen Catherine of Valois, led the regency with Baby Henry’s two uncles. One took charge of England. The other went to hold the fort in France until Henry grew up.
Unfortunately, Henry was not wired for the position life put him in (see our episode for a savage quote on this topic read to perfection by Allison). He was mild-mannered, and not in a Clark Kent kind of way. He was also very pious, preferring the pursuits of the soul to the governing of the realm.
Because of this, his reign was a bit of a disaster. Within 16 years of him taking the throne, England had lost almost everything his father had won in the war with France. This was due in no small part to other factors (not the least of which was a young peasant girl named Jeanne d’Arc), but it was still a crushing blow not only to England, but the public perception of the monarchy.
Henry also suffered from recurring bouts of what was thought to be madness. Today, explanations range from epilepsy to psychosis, but whatever the reason, the political effect was the same: another regency was needed.
Coming in as the pinch-hitter for the kingdom was a man named, once again, Richard of York (henceforth to be called Rich). His grandfather had been Edmund of York, youngest son of Edward III. He was fairly successful as regent of England, and eventually decided that he could probably do a better job if he were simply crowned king. After all, he had a claim to the throne too.
His campaign for kingship blossomed into the civil war that we all think of as the Wars of the Roses. At a certain point, Lancastrians (supporters of King Henry VI) began to be symbolized by a red rose and Yorkists (supporters of Rich) by a white rose.
Unfortunately. Rich died before his claim was realized. But once again, there was an heir to continue the line: Edward, who was 18 years old and able to take up the cause.
Edward was the perfect image of a king. 6’4″ tall, charming, and an excellent fighter, he was successful in claiming the crown, even fitting time for a whirlwind, fairytale romance into his busy schedule. His reign brought England a period of peace, briefly interrupted a few years in when the former queen, Margaret of Anjou, led a rebellion to reclaim the kingdom. For a time, Edward was forced to flee to a Belgium, but returned to power with the help of his brothers.
George and Richard were a contrasting set of characters. George was grasping, frequently treacherous, and never contented with his station in life. He had even joined Margaret of Anjou’s rebellion in hopes of becoming king himself, but returned to Edward’s side and was pardoned. Richard, on the other hand, had followed Edward to his exile in Belgium, fought by his side, and done everything by the book. The king had rewarded this loyalty by making him Lord High Constable of England at only 18 years old.
So we leave this story on a peaceful note. After 100 years of fighting, England is at rest. The soldiers can go back to their homes, and the York brothers are in harmony again. The only off-key note was that somewhere, hidden in the background, the old king died in Edward’s custody.
But on to happier things. Did we mention that the king has not just one, but two heirs? Edward, born in sanctuary while his father was in exile, and Richard. Two princes to take up the cause.
In this final episode of our three-part investigation and discussion of Anna Anderson, we discuss the true fate of the Romanov family, along with our affinity for Yul Brenner, and how we truly feel about Don Bluth’s adaptation of this story.
Listen on Buzzsprout here!
When we last left the Romanov family, they were incarcerated in a house in the remote Russian town of Ekaterinburg. Accompanying them were their faithful retinue: Eugene Botkin, the family’s doctor, Anna Demidova, lady-in-waiting, Ivan Kharitonov, cook, and Alexei Trupp, footman.
After 78 days of captivity, Dr. Botkin was awoken around midnight on July 17th and told to gather the family and servants: they were about to be moved. They dressed and were escorted to a small cellar in the basement, which was decorated with striped wallpaper and lit by a single bulb. Here, they were told they would wait for a vehicle to arrive.
The family was arranged as if they were posing for a picture, with Alexei and Alexandra seated. When they were in position, Yurovsky informed Nicholas that due to continued efforts of his relatives to rescue them, the family was going to be executed. A confused Nicholas asked, “What?” and Yurovsky repeated himself, then shot him in the head.
The guards opened fire, but disorganization and the confined space made the rest of the killings a drawn-out ordeal. To add to the horror, the guards’ bullets were bouncing off the girls’ corsets, which were lined with diamonds and precious stones: the family’s financial cushion in case they were able to escape. Yurovsky and his men resorted to rifle butts and bayonets to finish the job.
After 30 minutes, the bodies of the whole family and their retinue lay still. Yurovsky checked the pulses of each one to make sure they were dead. However, as the bodies were being shifted onto sheets to be carried to a truck in the courtyard, one of the girls (either Maria or Anastasia) sat up, covered her face with her hands, and screamed. She was quickly set upon by the guards and killed.
Now came the task of disposing of eleven bodies. The bodies were loaded into a Fiat truck (the only one in town, which had arrived hours late.)
The truck was driven outside the city on a forest road to the Four Brothers Mine. After being stripped, the bodied were dumped down a mineshaft. However, it wasn’t deep enough to hide them, so they were pulled out and driven back down the road.
When the truck stalled out in the middle of the road, Yurovsky decided complete the burial right there. He ordered his men to dig a shallow grave and throw the bodies in. In an attempt to confuse anyone who came looking for eleven bodies, Yurovsky pulled two of the corpses from the grave, burned them, and buried them separately 50 yards away. Returning to the main grave, he and his men poured sulphuric acid over the remains, covered them with soil, and laid railroad ties over the top, backing over them repeatedly to drive them into the mud and disguise what was hidden below.
The bodies would remain hidden for more than sixty years. However, the hiding place wasn’t a complete secret. A few people, either those who were involved in the killings or high in the Soviet ranks did know about the railroad ties on Koptyaki Road. In 1928, a poet named Vladimir Mayakovsky asked an official to visit the site and wrote a poem about the experience called “The Emperor”.
Past Iset –
the mines and cliffs
Past Iset –
the whistling wind,
at verst Number Nine
the ispolkom driver
stopped, stood,
silent…
Here is a cedar,
axed over and over,
notches straight through the bark.
By the root of the cedar
a highway
and in it an Emperor –
buried.
In the mid-70’s, a local geologist named Dr. Alexander Avdonin began investigating the location of the remains. Using local legend and clues from those who were in the know (such as Mayakovsky’s poem), he was able to find the main gravesite in May of 1979. Avdonin kept the discovery under wraps for a long time out of fear of the Soviet government, but in 1991, nine sets of remains were exhumed from the main gravesite.
The next step was to determine whether the remains were in fact the Romanovs. The bullets and sulphuric acid containers found in the grave pointed to Ipatiev House, but they weren’t absolute proof. However, after craniofacial analysis, age assessment, and DNA testing performed by scientists from several different countries, it was confirmed: Nicholas, Alexandra, Tatiana, Olga, and another daughter (either Maria or Anastasia) had been found.
All the remains were reinterred in 1998 at St. Petersburg Cathedral. But two spots were left open for the children who were still missing: Alexei and his sister. Then finally, in 2007, an amateur search group found bones in a clearing of birch trees. The search was over. Alexei and his sister were accounted for.
Today, the last two sets of Romanov remains are being housed in a research facility waiting to be interred with the family and retinue. The former gravesites on Old Koptyaki Road are marked with Orthodox crosses, and there is a cathedral on the site of the demolished Ipatiev House,
In the second half of our episode, Allison took us on an amazing journey through media inspired by Anastasia (the real one and the fictional ones!) We discussed the road that led to the Don Bluth movie we all know and love, beginning in 1956 with a star-studded film!
In the mid 90’s, Don Bluth and Gary Goldman signed a deal with 20th Century Fox for a new animated feature. Fox wanted to adapt a property they already owned, and Anastasia was the chosen one. With Angela Lansbury, a singing bat, and Allison’s pick for Greatest Villain Song of the Mid-90’s, it’s not one to miss!
More recently, a Broadway musical opened based on the animated movie. The plot is more down-to-earth (i.e. no more singing bats) but we have it on good authority that it’s still worth the watch. This plot features Gleb, a Bolshevik general assigned to kill Anastasia, in place of our favorite dancing wizard.
One bright spot to leave on: when the White Army entered Ekaterinburg shortly after the murders, they found a survivor from Ipatiev House: Alexei’s spaniel, Joy. Joy was taken to England and lived out the rest of his days as well-cared for dog, even being reunited with Sophie Buxhoeveden, who he greeted by ” leaping in the air and running to [her] with his forepaws, walking upright like a circus dog”.
Our second foray into the world of lost Russian royalty, in which Allison provides tea-pouring ASMR, Jillian takes us on a journey to the past, and Hannah betrays her true feelings for Nicholas Romanov’s soulful eyes.
Listen on Buzzsprout here!
On February 27th, 1920, a woman was rescued from a Berlin canal after jumping from the Bendlerbrücke bridge. She arrived at the hospital with no papers and could not provide her name, so she was admitted as Fräulein Unbekannt: “Miss Unknown”.
Two years after her arrival, a fellow patient told tell a Russian émigré named Nicholas von Schwabe that she had shared a hospital with Tatiana Romanov. Intrigued, von Schwabe visited Miss Unknown and became convinced she was the Tsar’s daughter. At his request, Miss Unknown began to receive an increasing number of visitors.
Baroness Sophie, a former lady-in-waiting to Tsarina Alexandra, gave her opinion on the identity of Miss Unknown: she was too short to be the willowy and statuesque Tatiana. Miss Unknown replied, “I never said I was Tatiana.”
Within months, Miss Unknown had a growing following who believed her to be Anastasia. She moved into the home of a former Russian Poland police chief named Arthur von Kleist and began referring to herself as Anna (short for Anastasia) Tschaikovsky.
Meanwhile, a German police officer named Franz Grünberg was determined to get to the bottom of the claims. He arranged for her to stay at his estate and invited several members of the European aristocracy to identify Anna, including Tsarina Alexandra’s sister, Princess Irene. While Anna refused to see her, other visitors did manage to meet her in the coming years, including the Imperial family’s former tutor Pierre Gilliard and Tsar Nicholas’ sister Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna. None confirmed her as Anastasia.
During the next few years, Anna spent time in hospitals and sanitoriums, funded by Anastasia’s great uncle, Prince Valdemar of Denmark. And when we say hospitals and sanitoriums, this is what we mean:
During her time at Oberstdorf, Anna received a visit that would mark a turning point in her life. Tatiana Melnik was the daughter of the Romanov’s physician, Eugene Botkin, who had remained with them after the Revolution and accompanied them in Ekaterinburg. Tatiana threw her support behind Anna, saying that her memory had been damaged by mental illness and providing her with details of the Romanov family and court life.
Around this time, Prince Valdemar stopped supporting Anna due to pressure from his family. Fortunately, funding came from another distant relative of the Romanovs, and Anna was transferred to Castle Seeon in Bavaria.
By 1927, Anastasia’s extended family was running out of patience and wanted answers. Tsarina Alexandra’s brother Ernest, Grand Duke of Hesse, hired a detective to investigate. Within a short time, he returned with information: Anna Tschaikovsky was actually a Polish woman named Franziska Schanzkowska. She had been involved in a tragic accident at the munitions factory where she was employed, inadvertently dropping a grenade which had exploded, injuring her and killing a fellow worker. This caused a break in her mental health, and she had been committed to two asylums prior to going missing in Berlin.
To confirm this new identity, the detective arranged for a meeting between Anna and Felix, Franziska Schanzkowska’s brother. Felix appeared to recognize his sister, but when the time came to sign the official documents, he would not give absolute confirmation. Later, he would state that he knew it was his sister, but lied in order to give her a better life.
Meanwhile, debate continued to rage amongst the royals of Europe. Felix Yusopov, nephew of Tsar Nicholas and one of the conspirators who killed Rasputin, wrote a scathing letter denouncing her claims.
On the other side of the spectrum, Eugene Botkin’s son Gleb was fully on Anna’s side. He and another supporter arranged for Anna’s journey to America, where he hired a lawyer to set up a company with the goal of getting hold of Anastasia’s inheritance. This angered many of the relatives of the Romanovs, who believed Gleb was acting out of a desire for financial gain. Upon the death of Nicholas’s mother, who had never given up the belief that her son had survived, the closest remaining relations signed a document declaring their belief that Anna was an imposter. Gleb responded with an accusation that they were after financial gain.
Anna’s life in America continued. For a while, she was the toast of New York society, but that came to a halt as her mental health broke down once more. After spending time in the Four Winds Sanitorium, she was sent back to Germany, where she lived in yet another psychiatric home. Upon her release, she was given housing by various supporters. At the time, the Nazi government had an interest in determining whether they had a former member of the Russian royal family on their hands, so they arranged one more meeting between Anna and the Schanzkowskas. However, upon being told that Anna would be imprisoned if discovered to be a fraud, the family refused to sign any affidavits against her.
Anna settled in a house on the borders of the Black Forest, but sadly, mental illness struck again. She eventually had to be removed from her home, which was in disrepair and filled with 60 cats. At this point, she took Gleb Botkin up on his offer of financing her return to America.
Anna moved to Charlottesville, Virginia and married history professor John Eacott Manahan, a friend of Gleb’s with a deep interest in Russian history. Though it was probably motivated by necessity (it took place just before Anna’s visa expired), John loved the thought of being married to a lost Grand Duchess and called himself the “Grand-Duke-in-waiting”. On the whole, this slightly strange marriage seems to have been a happy one.
Anna faced a number of health problems in her twilight years, at one point requiring the removal of a tumor and portions of her intestine (bookmark that!) She was placed in a nursing home in 1983, but was quickly “rescued” by her husband, who took her on a Bonnie-and-Clyde style tour of the Virginia countryside fueled by convenience store snacks.
After a brief stint on the run, Anna was returned to her care facility, where she passed away on February 12th, 1984. Her body was cremated; some of the ashes were interred at Castle Seeon and some with her husband after his death in 1990. Her claims, however, did not die with her. Join us next time for the conclusion to our three-part series, where we will discuss answers to the mysteries surrounding Anna and the Romanov family.
*This claim has no historical basis whatsoever.