Richard III and the Bottle

Henry Tudor did everything he could to assassinate Richard III’s character, both in official propaganda and by influencing other writers of the time. He called Richard deformed, lecherous, incestuous, deceitful, incompetent, violent, murderous, and infanticidal. He enflamed regional sentiment by claiming Richard favored northerners over “real” Englishmen, and he presented Richard’s claim as a usurpation of the crown.

While Tudor propagandists leveled a wide range of accusations against Richard III, at least one claim appears to be grounded in reality: during his reign, he was a drunk. The Tudors cited this fact as proof of an inner depravity and vile nature, but the real reasons cast quite a different light on Richard III’s character.

First off, everyone in the middle ages drank heavily. Often, the water wasn’t safe. Human and animal waste, material from tanneries and blacksmiths, a general lack of plumbing, and fragmentary understanding of basic sanitation polluted local waterways. Instead, most people hydrated with small ale, which was perhaps 1% to 2% alcohol.

Other alcohols didn’t have a standard strength. Most was brewed locally according to personal taste and fluctuated wildly in potency. When not produced locally, it was transported in a concentrated form, then diluted by the final buyer. Strength was inconsistent, and drinkers could easily over-imbibe.

Alcohol was also used for medicinal purposes. Herbalists and midwives certainly used different herbs and plants for medical purposes, but alcohol was by far the most common treatment for the aches and pains we take ibuprofen or acetaminophen for today. Indeed, alcohol still serves this purpose. Vodka helps with headaches, sherry helps with menstrual cramps, and rum eases tooth pain.

Into that context, here arrives Richard III, who had a 70 degree curvature to his spine and one arm shorter than the other. Modern patients with such a severe case of scoliosis experience chronic back pain and secondary pain in the hips, arms, shoulders, and legs. Experiments in period-appropriate armor prove that the structure of the armor and the type of saddle employed would have helped to alleviate some of the pain.

However, that wouldn’t have helped at court. He would naturally need something to dull the constant pain. Herbs and medicinal treatment was dangerous, since the way Richard acquired the throne had made him countless enemies. His brother George’s son, the Duke of Buckingham’s son, and Henry Tudor all had rival claims, as did Edward IV’s daughters. Any number of people would have eagerly assassinated him. One could hardly blame him for not trusting bespoke remedies that only he would ingest.

Much safer was wine, the same wine his entire court was drinking. It would be much harder to poison him alone, and it was readily available. And he would drink enough to dull the pain, if only for a time.

Whether he made policy decisions while under its effects, we will never know. Indications are that alcohol didn’t influence his decision-making. From his successful campaigns against the Lancastrians and Scots to his carefully organized coup against the Woodvilles, his life is a series of successful strategies, culminating in a well-planned battle thwarted by untrustworthy supporters. We do know he didn’t imbibe on the eve of Bosworth and fought the battle sober.

Yes, Richard was a heavy drinker. But before judging him too harshly, we should consider the extent of his constant physical pain and his almost universal success in executing what were, at times, incredibly intricate schemes. Alcohol was more a necessity than a reflection of a lack of control or moral depravity.