At first glance, Richard III, the last Yorkist king of England, and Joseph Smith, the founder of a 19th-century American religious movement, seem to belong to completely different worlds. One lived in a medieval monarchy defined by dynastic conflict; the other lived on the expanding frontier of a young republic. Yet the arc of their reputations reveals surprising parallels. Both men became symbols—contested, reinterpreted, and weaponized long after their deaths. Both were reshaped not merely by historians but by their successors, whose political and institutional needs played a decisive role in determining how the world would remember them.

Below are the key themes they share.

Both Men Died Violently and Could No Longer Speak for Themselves

Richard III fell in battle at Bosworth in 1485. Joseph Smith was murdered by a mob in 1844. In both cases, death cut off their ability to defend themselves, clarify their teachings, or shape their own narratives. When a leader dies suddenly in conflict, history is often written by those who survive—and by those who gain from directing the story.

Richard could not respond when the Tudors described him as a deformed, scheming villain who murdered children. Joseph could not respond when later Church leaders recast him as the architect of a system he did not publicly teach—the system of plural marriage Brigham Young implemented in Utah.

A silent man cannot contradict anyone, and both Richard and Joseph became vulnerable to stories told after their deaths.

Their Successors Benefited by Rewriting Their Legacies

Henry VII needed Richard to be a monster. His dynasty depended on the idea that Richard was illegitimate, tyrannical, and unfit to wear the crown. The worse Richard looked, the more secure Henry’s claim appeared. Tudor chroniclers, playwrights, and politicians had every incentive to darken Richard’s name.

Likewise, after Joseph Smith’s death, Brigham Young and the Utah leadership needed him to be the original source of a doctrine they themselves practiced—plural marriage. Because Joseph never taught it publicly, never canonized it, and even printed denials in Church newspapers, the only way to validate the new Utah system was to retroactively attribute it to him.

Just as the Tudors recast Richard into a figure who justified their rule, the Utah narrative recast Joseph as a polygamist prophet to justify their system.

In both cases, the successor needed the founder’s image altered to secure authority.

Both Men Left Behind Evidence Contradicting the Later Narrative

Archaeology and contemporary documents show that Richard III was not the hunchbacked, monstrous figure Shakespeare immortalized. His physical remains reveal a scoliosis, not deformity; his political record is mixed, not monstrous.

Joseph Smith likewise left:

• public sermons denouncing polygamy,
• the 1835 D&C declaring, “one man should have one wife,”
• newspaper editorials rejecting the accusation of plural wives,
• a Relief Society organized to oppose “spiritual wifery,”
• and a lifetime public record of monogamy.

These primary sources conflict sharply with later claims that he secretly instituted plural marriage.

Both men’s own lifetime evidence contradicts the narratives created after they died.

Later Narratives Became “Official” Through Repetition, Not Evidence

The Tudor version of Richard III became accepted because Shakespeare’s portrayal shaped cultural memory. Few checked the sources. Fewer questioned why Richard’s enemies were considered trustworthy.

Likewise, later LDS tradition adopted the Utah-era narrative that Joseph practiced plural marriage. Testimonies surfaced decades later, often from individuals living under Brigham Young’s authority. Over time, these stories became the accepted version. The earlier, documented monogamous teachings of Joseph, Hyrum, and Emma were overshadowed.

Both reputations were reshaped not by firsthand evidence, but by the repetition of a politically useful story.

 Both Men Became Symbols in Larger Battles

Richard III became a symbol of tyranny for the Tudors and of rehabilitation for revisionist historians.

Joseph Smith became a symbol too:

• To Utah leaders, he was the origin of celestial marriage.
• To the RLDS tradition, he was a monogamist wrongly accused.
• To critics, he was a fraud or manipulator.
• To believers, a prophet whose true voice must be recovered.

Neither man was allowed to remain simply human. They became icons in a debate, molded by the needs of later generations.

Both Require Modern Reassessment to Recover Their Real Voices

Thanks to modern historical methods, Richard III is now viewed more neutrally—neither saint nor monster, but a complex leader caught in a brutal civil war.

Joseph Smith’s record, when read through:

• his own publications,
• his own sermons,
• the Book of Mormon,
• the Doctrine and Covenants he actually printed,
• and the statements of Hyrum and Emma

reveals a consistent philosophy of monogamy, strict morality, and rejection of exploitation.

Both men’s reputations become clearer when we strip away the layers added by those who came after.

Conclusion: Two Men, One Pattern

Richard III and Joseph Smith share this uncommon bond:

• each became the center of a posthumous political narrative crafted by those who needed him to be something he never publicly claimed.
• Both lived one story, and died into another.
• Both left behind evidence that conflicts with the version promoted after their death.
• Both became controversial symbols because their successors built legitimacy on reinterpretations of their lives.

And in both cases, modern investigation allows us to ask:

What if the man himself was far more honorable—and far less guilty—than history later claimed?