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If Edward IV didn’t dispose of Henry Holand, 3rd Duke of Exeter, who did….?

I must state from the outset that I could not find any contemporary likenesses of Henry Holand, so the above is of him as played by an actor unknown to me.

The life of Henry Holand, 3rd Duke of Exeter—*actually 4th Duke, by my calculations, see below—has never been of particular interest to me, but I did think that he was murdered at sea, and his body dumped in the water. It was believed that as he was a tiresome Lancastrian, he fell victim to Yorkist retribution. Specifically, the retribution of his former brother-in-law, Edward IV. At least, that was my impression. Apart from that, I also understood that Henry Holand was a very unpleasant person.

Henry Holand’s coat of arms
Tower of London by Wenceslaus Hollar

Henry was born in the Tower of London on 27th June, 1430. At his baptism he was carried from the Tower to Coldharbour, and then taken by barge to St. Stephen’s Westminster, where he was christened. (I mention this because we all know Coldharbour, and its Ricardian connections.)

Coldharbour
Anne of York

Henry Holand married Anne of York, who was born in 1439 at Fotheringhay. She was the elder sister of Kings Edward IV and Richard III, and it was her mitochondrial DNA that proved the remains discovered in Leicester were those of Richard III.

When Henry was aged 19, in 1449, he became 3rd Duke of Exeter and Lord High Admiral. The Holands had started as Ricardians—Richard II—but had then Lancastrian supporters of Henry IV. Henry Hoiland supported Lancastrian Henry VI when the Yorkist Edward IV came to the throne. The duke was thus attainted after the Battle of Towton on 29th March 1461, and fled to exile in Scotland.

The Lancastrians were routed at the Battle of Towton

His estates had been forfeited, but Holand regained many of them when Henry VI was returned briefly to the throne. But then the estates were forfeit again when Edward IV surged back to power.

Meanwhile, Holand’s wife had managed to obtain all his estates for herself. Such are the perks of being Edward IV’s sister. An Act of Parliament passed in 1464 meant that “such gifts and grants that the king made to Anne, his sister, wife of Henry, Duke of Exeter, were to all intents good in law to the only use of the said Anne.” (Tower Records). Edward granted her the Holand castles, manors, etc. in Wales, Cornwall, Devon, Somerset and Wilts to herself for life, with the remainder to her daughter by the Duke of Exeter.

Henry Holand returned to England in 1469, still supporting Lancaster, and was wounded at the Battle of Warwick.

Reenactment of the Battle of Warwick, 1469

Then, on 14th April, 1471, he fought at the Battle of Barnet, at which the Lancastrians were beaten, and the great Earl of Warwick, the “Kingmaker”, was killed.

Sir James Ramsey, in his book, Lancaster and York, vol. ii, p. 370, states that Henry Holand was in the Tower of London until June of 1475. On 21st June, 1471, a bill of 6s. 8d. was paid to William Sayer, purveyor to the Tower of London to feed “Henry, called Duke of Exeter”, for seven days from 26th May, and again 6s. 8d. for the week beginning 31st May. Rymer, vol. xi, p. 713. 

Anne of York and Sir Thomas St Leger

Henry Holand and Anne had parted in 1464, and were divorced on 11th December, 1467. They had one child, a daughter, also named Anne. Then the Duchess Anne married Yorkist Sir Thomas St Leger in 1474-ish. Another daughter was born of this second match, on 14th January, 1476, and they called her Anne as well! So, we have Anne of York, Lady Anne Holand and Lady Anne St Leger.

On learning that his wife was pregnant, St Leger engineered a legal settlement that would enable his child, Anne St Leger, to inherit everything in the event of his wife’s death and the death (without issue) of Lady Anne Holand. I’ll bet Henry Holand appreciated that!

Henry must have been a brooding presence for his ex-wife. In 1475, around the time that she realised she was expecting St Leger’s child, Henry Holand had redeemed himself enough with Edward IV to volunteer (and be accepted) by that king for an expedition/invasion of France. This venture began at around the time Anne realised she was expecting St Leger’s child.

Edward IV’s fleet leaving for France

It was on the return voyage from France that Henry’s body was found bobbing in the Channel (or on the beach at Dover, according to another version).

Dover in the 16th century

Everyone scratched their heads and spread innocent hands as to what had befallen him. Edward IV may or may not have had a tiresome Lancastrian eliminated—he wasn’t above such things—but there was someone else with a good reason to dispose of Henry Holand.

Thomas St Leger was also on the expedition to France, and had been prominent in the proceedings. “St Leger played a key role in ending the Hundred Years’ War when he signed the Treaty of Picquigny with Louis XI on 29 August 1475.” At this time he knew he was to be a father, and had accomplished the settlement that could so greatly benefit his child’s future. Thanks to his foresight, little Anne St Leger might one day inherit the entire Holand fortune!

Edward IV and King Louis of France meet prior to the signing of the Treaty of Picquigny, which effectively bought Edward off.

But while Henry Holand was still alive, there was a chance he’d return to complete favour, remarry and produce more legitimate offspring. Perhaps male. And that the king might decide he should have his inheritance back. The way politics were at that time, heaven knows who might occupy the throne? Another Lancastrian, perchance? Oh, no, I don’t think Thomas would have relished that scenario. So, as the English forces were returning to England from France, St Leger could have found an opportunity to see that Henry Holand was despatched to the hereafter. Heave-ho, over the side you go!

Well, that’s my theory. Far-fetched? I don’t think so. It’s a possible explanation for Henry’s immersion in the Channel.

Yes, there were others who loathed the very sight of Henry Holand, a man who seems to have signally lacked the famous Holand charm. But St Leger’s situation was different. He had a very personal reason to want Holand out of the way for good and all. Of course, let it not be forgotten that St Leger himself would one day become a treacherous brother-in-law. In 1483 he rebelled against Richard III, and paid the price. 

Here is another link https://thehistoryjar.com/2017/02/07/duke-of-exeter-was-he-murdered-or-did-he-slip/ that will take you to a version of Henry Holand’s life and rather dodgy demise. And another, that tells the story from Anne’s perspective. https://rebeccastarrbrown.com/2018/03/03/the-divorce-of-anne-of-york-duchess-of-exeter/

By a curious coincidence, just after writing this post, I happened upon the following https://twitter.com/liz_lizanderson/status/1016611053394976768, which shows part of the wheatear badge of Henry Holand, as found by “mudlarks” on the Thames foreshore.

*And I haven’t forgotten the asterisk at the beginning of this post. Why do I regard Henry Holland as the 4th Duke of Exeter? Because it is my belief that his grandfather’s (John Holand, 1st Duke of Exeter, d. January 1400) eldest son, Sir Richard Holand, who died at the end of 1400, survived the 1st Duke’s death long enough to be considered of age, and had thus inherited the right to his father’s titles—as much as Edward IV’s eldest son was Edward V! I know the 1st ~Duke had been demoted and attainted at the time of his death, but the title was resurrected and then given to his second son, another John. I still think this would have made the 2nd Duke actually the 3rd. OK, so I’m an amateur and don’t know what I’m talking about!

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What happened to Coldharbour on Richard III’s death. . . .?

Coldharbour

Yes, another post about Coldharbour (above) which stood  in Upper Thames Street, London. But this time it concerns an apparent omission in ownership. It is a known fact that after Bosworth, Henry VII turfed the College of Heralds out of Coldharbour and handed the property over to his mother, Margaret Beaufort. Isn’t it? I mean, there’s no doubt about this?

Heralds_at_Garter_Service

Heralds in procession to St George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle for the annual service of the Order of the Garter

Well, while following up another trail, I found myself in British History Online, specifically Old and New London: Volume 2. Pages 17-28, published originally by Cassell, Petter & Galpin, London, 1878. Even more specifically, the section deals with Upper Thames Street, and thus the mansion known as Coldharbour, which has strong connections with Richard III.

The name of the house changed and was given different spellings over the years, but the house itself remained there at least from the time of Edward II until it was pulled down by the Earl of Shrewsbury who was guardian of Mary, Queen of Scots.

Here is the relevant extract:

“Among the great mansions and noblemen’s palaces that once abounded in this narrow river-side street, we must first of all touch at Cold Harbour, the residence of many great merchants and princes of old time. It is first mentioned, as Stow tells us, in the 13th of Edward II., when Sir John Abel, Knight, let it to Henry Stow, a draper. It was then called Cold Harbrough, in the parish of All Saints ad Fœnum (All Hallows in the Hay), so named from an adjoining hay-wharf. Bequeathed to the Bigots, it was sold by them, in the reign of Edward III., to the well-known London merchant, Sir John Poultney, Draper, four times Mayor of London, and was then called Poultney’s Inn. Sir John gave or let it to Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Hereford and Essex, for one rose at Midsummer, to be given to him and his heirs for all services. In 1397 Richard II. dined there, with his halfbrother John Holland, Earl of Huntingdon, who then lodged in Poultney’s Inn, still accounted, as Stow says, “a right fair and stately house.” The next year, Edmund, Earl of Cambridge, lodged in it. It still retained its old name in 1410, when Henry IV. granted the house to Prince Hal for the term of his life, starting the young reveller fairly by giving him a generous order on the collector of the customs for twenty casks and one pipe of red Gascony wine, free of duty. In 1472 the river-side mansion belonged to Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter. This duke was the unfortunate Lancastrian (great-grandson of John of Ghent) who, being severely wounded in the battle of Barnet, was conveyed by one of his faithful servants to the Sanctuary at Westminster. He remained in the custody of Edward IV., with the weekly dole of half a mark. The duke hoped to have obtained a pardon from the York party through the influence of his wife, Ann, who was the king’s eldest sister. But flight and suffering had made both factions remorseless. This faithless wife obtaining a divorce, married Sir Thomas St. Leger; and not long after, the duke’s dead body was found floating in the sea between Dover and Calais. He had either been murdered or drowned in trying to escape from England. Thus the Duke of Exeter’s Inn suffered from the victory of Edward, as his neighbour’s, the great Earl of Worcester, had paid the penalties of Henry’s temporary restoration in 1470. Richard III., grateful to the Heralds for standing up for his strong-handed usurpation, gave Cold Harbour to the Heralds, who, however, were afterwards turned out by Cuthbert Tunstal, Bishop of Durham, whom Henry VIII. had forced out of Durham House in the Strand. In the reign of Edward VI., just before the death of that boy of promise, the ambitious Earl of Northumberland, wishing to win the chief nobles to his side, gave Cold Harbour to Francis, the fifth Earl of Shrewsbury, and its name was then changed to Shrewsbury House (1553), six days before the young king’s death. The next earl (guardian for fifteen years of Mary Queen of Scots) took the house down, and built in its place a number of small tenements, and it then became the haunt of poverty. . .”

Cuthbert Tunstall 1474–1559, Bishop of Durham, 1530–1559

Cuthbert Tunstall (1474–1559), Bishop of Durham (1530–1559)

Poor Cuthbert, he doesn’t look a happy man! But I digress. Ignoring the unworthy comment about Richard’s so-called ‘strong-handed usurpation’, there is, for Ricardians, a glaring omission in all this. What happened to Henry VII and Margaret Beaufort? The College of Heralds were turned out of Coldharbour before the Bishop of Durham ‘done the deed’ in the reign of Henry VIII. Yes?

Any comments, ladies and gentlemen? Is it just an error by the author of Old and New London?

 

 

IN AN OXFORDSHIRE VILLAGE

In a beautiful, sleepy Oxfordshire village stands the church of St Mary the Virgin.  Once this village was a much busier place, with ornate Almhouses known as ‘God’s House’ (now partly a school)  and a lavish manor house that was near enough a palace.  Other than a wall of the old dairy, not one trace of the manor now remains above ground,  but in the 15th century this was the home of Alice de la Pole, wife of William de la Pole, Earl and later Duke of Suffolk.

Alice was the grand daughter of one of the most famous English writers of all time, Geoffrey Chaucer of Canterbury Tales fame.Her father was Thomas Chaucer and her mother Maud or Matilda Burghersh who are both buried in the church in an altar tomb set with fine  brasses and covered in the wheel symbol of the de Roets and the leopards of the Plantagenets. Alice was married  three times, first to Sir John Philip, then Thomas Montagu  Earl of Salisbury, and finally to William de la Pole. Her son, John de la Pole,  married Elizabeth of York, sister of Edward IV and Richard III, and John’s son, Alice’s grandson, was John Earl of Lincoln, whom Richard III made his heir after the death of Edward of Middleham.

Alice’s husband William was murdered when his ship was intercepted by a huge royal warship called ‘Nicholas of the Tower’ while  crossing the Channel as he went into exile. Immediately he knew doom had befallen him; he had been told years before by the astrologer Stacey that he must ‘beware the Tower.’ Taken on board the enemy ship, he was beheaded with ‘many blows’ from a rusty sword and his body displayed for all to see upon the sands at Dover, his head stuck upon a stake.

Alice inherited  many lands and manors from her husband and as she loaned  a considerable amount of  money to the Crown, the lands and titles were not placed under attainder. At one point she was constable of nearby Wallingford castle and as such custodian of  both the ill-fated Henry  Holland Duke of Exter (later to suspiciously ‘fall off’ a ship and drown after Edward IV’s French campaign) and Margaret of Anjou in the aftermath of Tewkesbury. Years before, Alice had been one of Queen Margaret’s ladies in waiting.

Alice died in 1475 at the age of 71. She has a large and elaborate alabaster tomb of exceedingly fine workmanship. On top lies the effigy of a strong-featured but peaceful-looking woman wearing a coronet; below the top, in a recess, lies a macabre memento mori monument of the Duchess as a decaying corpse, a grim reminder of the transience of life.

 

 

The Holand Dukes rose against Richard III? Wrong!….

screen-and-gallery-great-hall-dartington-hall-2016-2

For those of you who do not know, I am very fond of Dartington Hall. I read all I can about it, and its history, originally because of an intention to write about its creator, the first Holand Duke of Exeter, but now because I just plain love the place as well.

These Holand Dukes of Exeter – the first, John Holand, being the younger of Richard II’s two half-brothers through Joan of Kent – only survived for three generations, coming to an end in 1475 with the suspicious death of the third duke, the apparently unlovable Henry Holand. The duke in between, another John Holand, son of the first duke, was responsible for inventing the Duke of Exeter’s Daughter, a vile instrument of torture, a rack, which can still be seen at the Tower.  Not a legacy to commend the second duke, methinks.

I digress. Edward IV handed over Henry’ Holand’s estates to the wife from whom Holand was divorced, Edward’s eldest sister, Anne, Duchess of Exeter. Anne was by then married to Thomas St Leger, whose involvement in the Buckingham rebellion led to his execution by Richard III. This is as close as Henry Holand gets to rising against Richard III – through his ex-wife’s second husband!

Imagine my surprise then, when reading an introduction to a booklet about the hall by Anthony Emery, esteemed author of such works as ‘Greater Medieval Houses Of England and Wales 1300-1500’, to find the following statement:

“The Hall remained in the hands of the Holand family for a further 75 years [after the death of the first duke in 1400] but was forfeited to the Crown by the third generation after their unsuccessful attempt to overthrow Richard III.”

Huh? It can’t be a typo between II and III, because the Holands didn’t try to overthrow Richard II, on whose side they most definitely were, and anyway, Richard II was long gone by the time the third duke’s body washed up mysteriously on the shore at Dover. So I would like to know how Anthony Emery concludes that ‘they’ somehow rose against Richard III. They did rise against Henry IV at the end of 1399/ beginning of 1400 but came off worst – the first duke met a very sticky end at Pleshey Castle. And the third and last duke, Henry, was on the Lancastrian side at Towton, but accompanied Edward IV for the 1475 expedition to France. From which he failed to return, except as the body on the beach. He died about eight years before Richard of Gloucester became Richard III.

After Anne, Duchess of Exeter, Dartington fell to her daughter by St Leger, another Anne, who inherited Henry Holand’s estates through her mother. Well, it seems that when  the duchess died in January 1476, St Leger did all he could – ‘by seditious means as it is notoriously known’- to get reversion of his late wife’s estates, including the Holand properties, and to secure them for the other Anne, his daughter by the duchess. Emery says it all fell through when St Leger paid the price for joining Buckingham against Richard. Presumably it all then went to the Crown, because from March 1487 to 1509, it was held by Margaret Beaufort – whose coat of arms is one of those supporting the rafters of the great hall.

During the reign of Elizabeth I, Dartington was acquired by the Champernowne family, which held it for eleven generations, until in 1925 selling it to Leonard and Dorothy Elmhirst, who  restored it lovingly to its present glory.

So where does Emery gets his ‘fact’ about the Holands rising against Richard III? He also makes sweeping statements and claims concerning the first duke, whom he appears to loathe as much as some historians loathe Richard, but that’s another matter.

Tales of a Ricardian Traveler – Debunking a Myth at Dartington Hall

RICARDIAN LOONS

Lady on Horseback Lady on Horseback, mid-15th c., British Museum

Dartington Hall, near Totnes in Devon and just southeast of Dartmoor National Park, represents a uniquely British form of historical contradiction. It is both medieval, having parts of a Grade I-listed late 14th century manor house, and modern, being the current home of the Schumacher College and formerly the site of a progressive coeducational boarding school which broke all the molds of English education and even attracted the attention of MI5. Today, it operates a hotel, restaurant and conference center, and has Grade II* listed gardens.

Our visit was prompted by the prospect of staying briefly in the house built between 1388-1400 by John Holland, first earl of Huntingdon and duke of Exeter. The Holland dukes of Exeter were themselves highly controversial figures and their history is closely intertwined with that of the Houses of York and Lancaster. We didn’t…

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The True History of King Richard III (Part 3)

The True History of King Richard III – Part 3

Interlude

It is now time for a little housekeeping and explanation. The political situation between 1455 and 1459 is too boring and complicated to go into here. Suffice it to say that sometimes the Duke of York was in power, and sometimes the Duke of Somerset and Queen Margaret were. Of course, this Somerset was not the one Richard had killed, but his son, who most confusingly had the same title. Similarly King Henry VI was sometimes insane, and sometimes what passed for ‘normal’ in the case of Henry VI. In other words, he wasn’t actually catatonic, and gave the impression that he was merely unworldly, and in fact quite holy. Had he been a friar, he’d quite possibly been made a saint while he still lived, but as a king he was more in the way of an inconvenience, often signing things he was not supposed to sign, and quite frequently granting the same thing to two different people.

Richard had a number of brothers and sisters alive at this time. The eldest was Anne, who was no longer at home being married to the Duke of Exeter. The idea of these arranged marriages was to build alliances with other noble houses, but unfortunately Exeter hated both Anne and her father, the Duke of York. (This is no reflection on Anne or York. as Exeter hated everyone except Lord Egremont, and was always going around annoying people and getting thrown into the Tower.)

The next eldest were Edward and Edmund. Everyone knows Edward, who was later to become King Edward IV. He was very tall and good looking, and all the ladies liked him, so he always got extra chips on his plate when he lined up for dinner. Eventually, as a direct result, he became rather fat. No one knows much about Edmund, though he was probably similar to Edward, but nicer. These two lived in their own establishment, which may have been at Ludlow, where they were mercilessly bullied by a boy named Croft. Or, as they called him, Bonzo. Later this same Croft became a faithful servant, which probably proves something about bullies.

Next was Elizabeth, who was married to the Duke of Suffolk. If you’d met Suffolk in the street, you’d have thought him a moderately prosperous turnip farmer with no more wits than he needed for the job. But he was in fact a duke, and Elizabeth must have loved him as they had lots of babies together.

Then there was Margaret, of whom little needs to be said except that she was exceptionally tall. Had the House of York put out a ladies’ football team, Margaret would have played centre half. Then there was George, who shouted a lot and tried to be a bully. Then Richard himself. These three were in the nominal care of their mother. However the Duchess Cecily was very devout. She spent most of her time kneeling in the chapel, praying for the souls of her deceased children and also praying that she would have no more, just in case it turned out to be a three year pregnancy.

They were not always at Fotheringhay. Sometimes they would move to Ludlow, or to Berkhampstead, or to Baynard’s Castle in London, which must not be confused with Barnard Castle, a place they did not own. Occasionally they even went to Sandal, which is in Yorkshire, although not very deep into the county. Although the Duke of York had ‘York’ in his title, he actually owned very little of Yorkshire. Indeed, much of the county belonged to Henry VI (in his role as Duke of Lancaster) or to various other nasty Lancastrian persons, like Lord Clifford for example. This had been set up just to confuse foreigners.

12 surprising facts about the Wars of the Roses

Thanks to Matt Lewis:

http://www.historyextra.com/article/military-history/12-facts-wars-roses?utm_source=Facebook+referral&utm_medium=Facebook.com&utm_campaign=Bitly

Edward IV – no pussycat!

I find it – interesting, shall we say – that some people are so keen to hate Richard III that they tend to play down the fact that his brother, Edward IV, was at least as ruthless, if not more so. This does no service to Edward, who in some narratives seems to be a virtual cipher in the hands of Evil Richard. Edward was no man’s puppet, as a certain Earl of Warwick discovered to his cost.

Some examples of Edward IV’s ruthlessness:

Dragging the Lancastrian leaders out of the sanctuary of Tewkesbury Abbey and having them beheaded. (Oh, sorry, that was Richard, wasn’t it? Edward wanted to let them off with a warning.)

Murdering the anointed king, Henry VI, who was a harmless simpleton. (Oh, sorry, that was Richard again wasn’t it? Silly me. Edward was planning to send Henry to a comfortable retirement home in Bognor Regis.)

Pinching various families lands for the benefit of his own family. (Oh, there I go again! It was Richard who wanted the Countess of Warwick’s land split between Clarence and himself, and I’m sure that, for nefarious reasons of his own, he was behind the grabbing of the Holland (Exeter) and Mowbray inheritances as well, even though these benefited the Woodvilles.) By the way, the last King of England before Edward to do significant land grabs was Richard II, and he gets torn to bits about it by historians.

Throwing the Duke of Exeter overboard. (Though it was probably either an accident or done by Richard.)

Murdering his own brother, Clarence. (Oh sorry, it was either a lawful execution and/or Richard did it anyway.)

Do you see a theme here? Whenever Edward does something ‘bad’, there’s always someone who pops up and puts at least some of the blame on Richard. One is tempted to misquote Charles II. ‘My words are my own, but my deeds are Richard’s.’

Anyway, here is one ruthless deed that no one has pinned on Richard yet. According to Speed, a citizen of Chepe was hanged for treason in Edward’s reign for saying he would make his son heir to the Crown. (He meant the Crown public house, but Edward wasn’t laughing.) Of course, this is an obvious lie. The execution must surely date from 1483-1485 as that sweet fellow Edward would never have done such a thing.

DUKE RICHARD THE 3RD DUKE OF YORK (3): heir to the throne

The she-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France

Whose tongue more poisons than an adders tooth

How ill beseeming it is in thy sex

To triumph like an amazon trull

(Henry VI Part 3)

St Albans and its significance

The first battle of St Albans represents a landmark in the dispute between York and Lancaster; not as the first battle of a civil war, since it was not that, or as their biggest or bloodiest battle, since it was not that either. Its importance lay in the fact that it represented the ultimate expression of York’s change of tack from being the king’s champion to being the realm’s champion.

Throughout the 1450’s York had represented himself as the ‘king’s true liegeman’ intent only on rescuing him from the tyranny of his ‘evil’ advisors. Whether or not he was genuine is immaterial. He had to take this approach to avoid imputations of treason and to retain his popularity with the commons who, despite the oppression of the government, did not want to replace the king. Yet, it was an approach that constrained York politically and legally. First, it implied an acceptance of the legitimacy of the king’s absolute ‘royal authority’. In practical terms this meant that whilst York could ask the king to take action against his ‘evil’ counsellors, if he chose not to do so his decision was final. It had to be accepted with good grace; to do otherwise, might be considered treasonable. York was also bound personally by an oath of allegiance and obedience to the king, which he had sworn in 1452 following the Dartford fiasco. The other constraint was that York’s approach was founded on the presumption that he was acting in the king’s best interest. The problem was that the battle came about precisely because the king had failed to take effective action against Somerset and others, who were considered to be traitors by the Yorkists. Furthermore, such was the hostility between the two factions that a compromise was impossible. Having said that, it is doubtful whether making war on the king can be said to be acting in his best interest.

York’s solution to this dilemma can be seen in the letter he wrote to the king just before the battle. In it he emphasises yet again that he and his followers are the kings true liegemen ready to live and die in his service, and (this is the significant bit): “…to do all things as shall like your majesty to command us, if it be to the worship of the crown and the welfare of your noble realm (my emphasis).” [1] York is putting conditions on his obedience. And he is also making a clear distinction between the institution of ‘the crown’ and the person of the king, and between them both and the rights of the realm (of England). What I think York means is that although ‘royal authority’ is vested personally in the king, he must behave in accordance with the accepted norms of English monarchs as expressed in the coronation oath, which of course binds all our monarchs and was not personal to Henry. York is also introducing the concept of the ‘realm’ of ‘England’ as a political entity distinct from the monarchy. It has its own rights to which the crown is ultimately responsible. This is more than a device to overcome accusations of treason or ‘oath-breaker’; it represents a fundamental tenet of England’s constitution, which we see put most forcibly in Magna Carta. The implication for Henry is obvious. It is not disloyal or disobedient to correct a king who brings the crown into disrepute and acts against the public interest: by force of arms if need be. John Watts puts the matter concisely: “so far had the crown strayed from what was just that only an independent tribunal of freemen (the Yorkists) or God (in battle) could provide for the satisfaction of right. Once the king had agreed to this temporary delegation of prerogative of justice, the Yorkists would return to full and normal obedience”[2]. In fact, that is what happened after the battle.

The difficulty all-along was the government’s refusal to discuss its performance. Their doctrine, which was devised in the wake of Cade’s rebellion, was simple: the government is not answerable to the public. All the king’s subjects owed him a duty of loyalty and obedience. Anybody who failed in that duty was a traitor. Furthermore, the royal prerogative gave the king an absolute right to choose his advisors; he could not be compelled.   The government’s response went much further than just refusing to debate its conduct. By declaring Cade a murderer and a thief and York as tendentious, the government was able to attack the integrity of its critic and sidestep the public interest argument.

Interregnum 1455-1459

Even though no battles were fought between 23 May 1455 and the 22 September 1459, the realm was not at peace. The quarrel between the Lancastrian/royalist and Yorkist factions became even more embittered. Oppression, violence and lawlessness continued unabated in the shires and the bulk of the English nobility continued to distrust York’s motives and intention. To this toxic mix must be added the burgeoning influence of Queen Margaret. She was a far more dangerous and implacable enemy to York than a whole regiment of Somerset’s. Yorks attempt to impose good government foundered on two things: his lack of a formal constitutional position and his failure to command the support of the bulk of the English nobility. The second protectorship was tainted by the suspicion that it was inspired by him in order to gain personal control of the king. Nonetheless, It might still have succeeded in steadying the ship-of-state, with careful handling. Unfortunately, York’s mishandling of the Resumption Act caused his downfall. Almost all the Lords were against it; so much so, that the king refused even to read it much less sign it. York’s position was hopeless and his resignation followed swiftly. York was well aware of the danger to him; his power base was narrow and the vengeful Lancastrians were obviously intent on destroying him and his. The ‘she-wolf of France ‘ wasted no time in purging any Yorkist influence from around the king or in the council chamber. She removed the king from London to Coventry. It was not a sensible move since it removed the source of royal authority from the seat of his government; it was inefficient, contributed to the collapse of the English polity and promoted factionalism.

 

By the autumn of 1456 all Yorkist influence was expunged from the government. The king was in a piteous state. He was completely under the control of the queen who had a much firmer grip on her husband than either Suffolk or Somerset managed. He took little interest in affairs in public or in private. His passiveness was a cause for concern. He was and is generally recognised as a ‘simple’ man: generous, compassionate, forgiving and pious. Nonetheless, He had affectively abandoned his royal responsibilities; whether this was through mental incapacity or apathy we cannot now say.   The queen was the antithesis of her husband: miserly, heartless and merciless. Dr Thomas Gascoigne, the Chancellor of Oxford University said this in 1457: “…all the affairs of the realm were conducted according to the queens will by fair means of foul”[3].  Whatever the general opinion of her, she was a useful reference point for those on government unable to get much response from the king. However, the weakness in he position was that without a formal constitutional position, she could no more exercise ‘royal authority’ than York could. Only the crowned and anointed king could authorise policy actions and he was incapable or unwilling to do that. All the time the nature of royal power was unconvincing the issue between York and the Lancastrians persisted. Neither York’s good intentions, nor the queen’s dynamism were a substitute for the king’s ‘royal authority’.[4]

 

The years 1457 and 1458 the factional struggle continued unabated, with York loosing on points. The queen’s co-ordinated plan to bring York down was briefly interrupted by the king’s genuine but futile attempt to reconcile his warring nobles in a ‘love day’ (24 October 1458). This was followed by the king’s belated award’ of compensation to the sons of those killed at St Albans. The whole episode was a demonstration of York’s weakness and his political isolation. The lords maintained their loyalty to Henry and York had no choice but to submit to these ‘awards’.

The ‘love day’ was followed soon after by preparations for war. The queen’s faction armed themselves against ‘certain misguided and seditious people’. York and the Neville’s were summoned to present themselves at Coventry to explain their actions to the council. Fearing for their safety, the Yorkist lords ignored the summons and began to mobilize their forces. York was at Ludlow, Salisbury was in Yorkshire and Warwick was still in Calais. The Lancastrians were concentrated in their midland heartland. On the 23 September 1459 Lord Arundel and a force of about 9-10,000 soldiers intercepted Salisbury on his way to join York. The Yorkists were outnumbered two to one. The battle at Blore Heath was a hard-fought Yorkist victory; however, it was not decisive. About three weeks later on the 12 October 1459, the King’s army, operating on interior lines was able to catch the Yorkists (now reinforced by Warwick and Calais garrison troops) at a disadvantage at Ludford Bridge, near Ludlow. The Yorkists were outmatched and their force low in morale. In particular, they were loath to bear arms against the king, who had now displayed his banner. A trickle of desertions to the king’s side soon turned into a flood culminating in the loss of Andrew Trollope and his garrison troops. The Yorkist lords had no option but to flee for their lives. York went to Ireland. Warwick, Salisbury and Edward earl of March went to Calais. Somerset, made two attempts to remove Warwick from Calais but he failed abysmally.   The scene was now set for a full-blown civil war[5].

 

The Dublin meeting, March 1460

York was safe in Ireland. He able to make his plans uninterrupted and he also had Irish support for his actions in England[6]. The cost was the surrender of royal authority in Ireland, albeit short of independence. It was a price he was prepared to pay. The English enclave of Calais was just as important to the Yorkist cause because it provided the means whereby they could recover their position in England. Warwick’s control of the sea around Britain was amply demonstrated by the ease with which he was able to join York in Ireland to discuss the way forward. The content of this discussion and decisions made are important in informing our understanding of York’s intentions and his actions once he returned to England. Even though we do not have a record of what was said, there are some plausible inferences we can draw from the Yorkists’ subsequent actions. It seems obvious that the leaders agreed on the details of their invasion. These arrangements were fairly basic. They would seek more support from the English nobility and then mount a co-ordinated invasion. Warwick would land in Kent where Yorkist support was strong. York would land in the north once the circumstances were right. It was a sound strategy, which prevented the royal army from concentrating against a single threat, whilst allowing the Yorkists to recruit from those areas where their support was strongest. Important as these details are, they also had to consider what was to happen to the government once the invasion was successful. Judging by York’s regal bearing on his return to England, it seems that he expected to succeed to the throne. His provocative entry into London wearing the royal arms of England with his sword held upright before him and his determined march to the throne at Westminster could well have been discussed and agreed in Dublin: or York at least believed it was agreed. This is, of course, speculation but at least it is plausible speculation.

The most difficult problem was what to do with the king, the queen and Prince Edward. Everyone knew that the queen was the power behind the throne but she could not be dealt with like Suffolk or Somerset. It was equally clear to everybody that she would not submit willingly to the diminution of her dynastic right or that of her son. Unless they were dead or in close captivity a civil war was inevitable, and that might involve the French. There were several possibilities open to the Yorkists:

  1. Remove the king’s advisors and dominate the government.
  2. Depose the king and disinherit his son Prince Edward. York succeeds to the throne (This is based on the precedent set in 1399)
  3. Allow Henry to reign for his lifetime with York to succeed him and disinheriting Prince Edward (This was based on the precedent of the Troyes Treaty of 1422, whereby Henry VI inherited the French throne)
  4. The king dies in battle and York succeeds. Prince Edward is disinherited.

From the Yorkist point of view, option 1 would be the easiest to sell to the English people. They dare not risk saying that their intention was to depose the anointed king and to disinherit his heir. Option 3 was the worst of all worlds. It guaranteed prolonging the conflict with no assurance of any benefit to York, who was ten years older than the king and likely to predecease him anyway.   It seems unthinkable that these issues were not discussed in Dublin. In my personal it is a distinct possibility that the deposition of Henry was discussed and Warwick gave York his support; though afterwards he had doubts, as we shall see.

Northampton 1460

By June 1460, the Yorkists were ready. The Lancastrians, who had been prepared for an invasion since late 1459, were waiting for them. On the 26 June 1460, Warwick, Salisbury and March, with 1500 soldiers from Calais landed at Sandwich in Kent. Within a week, they were at the gates of London, their ranks swollen by recruits. After reassuring the Londoners of their intention, Warwick entered the City at the head of his army. He produced a ‘Manifesto’ of their complaints and demands. The importance of this document is that it is the only evidence we have of Yorkist intentions. It contained a number of clauses based on Cade’s manifestos of a decade earlier. There were accusations of peculation and corruption, the loss of France and misgovernment at home. However, it fudged the issue of succession; an indication perhaps that the Calais lords were not now sure what to do. They did however reaffirm the legitimacy of the king’s royal authority and their personal loyalty to him. It seems that this was a pre-requisite to their entry into London. The natural sympathy Londoner’s felt for York did not translate into support for the king’s deposition.   Warwick left London with his army on the 5 July 1460. Within 5 days, he had destroyed the Lancastrian cause at the battle of Northampton.  Buckingham, Shrewsbury and Egremont were slain The king was captured in his tent, where yet again, the Yorkists pledged their loyalty to him on their knees.  While all this was happening, York himself remained in Ireland.

Warwick was quick to organise the government of the realm. However, things did not look promising with so many dangerous Lancastrians at large: the queen and her son, Somerset, ‘Black hearted’ Clifford[7], and Exeter. Several commentators at this time have noted the passivity of the king. He was a pale shadow of a monarch, lacking ‘wit and spirit’. Although he had all the trappings of royalty he had none of the substance[8]. The Yorkists’ difficulties were particularly apparent outside London and the Home Counties. However, their lack of vindictiveness, suggests a genuine desire for peace and stability under an authoritative regime.

York’s arrival in England on the 9 September 1460, though not unexpected betrayed a possible dissonance between his agenda and that of his Calais colleagues, including his own son.   York is out of touch with reality at this point.[9] Warwick, aware of the widespread sympathy and support for the king (though not for his Lancastrian ministers or his queen), had modified his view. Deposition was not an option anymore. York, however, still clung to his ambition to succeed, and his progress through England towards London was both measured and regal.   It was within a few days of his landing, whilst at Chester, that according to Professor McFarlane he renounced his allegiance to the king. If that is true, then his intentions cannot have been a closely guarded secret. Whether Warwick knew of York’s intention is arguable. The pro- Warwick chroniclers Waurin suggests he did not (It would not do for an English hero to be seen as an oath breaker) but that has the smack of propaganda and is implausible.   A more likely scenario is one of the following (i) York and Warwick discuss deposition in Dublin and disagree. Warwick, unable to change the duke’s mind leaves; (ii) Warwick encouraged York to be more open about his ambition and agreed to go ahead and prepare the way by organising some ‘ we want York for king’ type receptions. There is good reason to think that York genuinely believed Warwick was drumming-up support for him. If not, it makes nonsense of his ‘royal’ progress, his ostentatious entry into London and his actions at Westminster. If Waurin is right, then York’s actions were (in Johnsons words) examples of ‘extreme stupidity’.

 

 

York claims the throne

York’s comment in Westminster Hall, when asked if he wanted to see the king: “I know of no one in the realm who would not more fitly come to me than I to him”, was met by a stunned silence. Nobody moved; nobody said anything. York was perplexed but not dismayed. Symbolically, he took-up lodgings in the queen’s chamber and he made it clear that the throne should never have been denied him. He planned his coronation for the 13 October 1460, just three days away. Although York had armed men to back his claim he had nothing else. There was no public support for the deposition of Henry and the English peerage as a group were dead set against it. On the 11 October, the Londoners complained to Warwick about York’s entrance to London, which had upset everyone. On the 12 October the lords met in council at Blackfriars. The discussion was heated and the conclusion certain; the deposition of king Henry VI was unthinkable. The bishops of Rochester and Ely were sent to York to explain. There had been many oaths and pledges of loyalty already given to the king; Furthermore, the deposition of the anointed king would be unpopular in London. York met the lords’ objections point-by-point and continued with the preparations for his coronation the next day. The lords resumed their meeting early on the 13 October; they sent Thomas Neville to talk sense into York. Their message was blunt. The lords did not support York’s claim to the throne. It must be assumed that the Calais lords acquiesced with that decision, at least for the time being.   Reluctantly, York agreed to stop the preparation for his coronation and to be guided by the council.

In view of this, it is presumably with the lord’s agreement that a few days later (16 October 1460) that York presented a written claim to the throne, setting out his grounds and title. To buy time, the lords submitted the claim to the King’s Justices for an opinion. However, the judges declined jurisdiction on the grounds that the royal succession was an issue beyond their competence. It remained a matter for parliament.

Parliament debated the issue from the 22 until the 25 October 1460. They accepted the superiority of York’s title but declined to give it effect. Henry was still king but the rest was uncertain. This constitutional impasse had to be resolved, and on the last day of October a compromise was settled. Unfortunately, it was the worst of all worlds for the king, for York and for the realm. Henry was to retain his throne for his lifetime, when he was to be succeeded by York. Prince Edward the king’s son was disinherited. It was a compromise that guaranteed a civil war. Nobody in their right mind could possibly have believed that Queen Margaret or the Lancastrian lords would accept it.  York’s clumsy attempt to get the king to abdicate didn’t work, but is indicative of the pressure on York from his own side.

On this construction of events[10] it is clear that the plan agreed between York and Warwick in Dublin had misfired. The lord’s refusal to co-operate was the stumbling block. Once their opposition became obvious, Warwick backed away; If he hadn’t, the civil war might have started there and then in London. York’s problem was that without Warwick’s support he could not possibly win, and he knew it.   Viewed in that light the compromise might have been an effective way to avoid an immediate civil war. The underlying cause of York’s failure was that he had failed to establish any personal failure in the king. Unlike Edward II and Richard II, his predecessors, Henry VI was not a demonstrably bad king. His subjects sympathised with him. Moreover, it seems unlikely that on such an important issue as the crown not too many men were swayed by York’s academic, legal argument. Whilst York’s hereditary succession was a strong point in his favour, it was overmatched in peoples’ minds by the longevity of the Lancastrian dynasty thus far, and also their sentimental attachment to the son of a great English warrior king. They might have come around to York’s way of thinking in time. Unfortunately, he did not give them time. Whereas, in1399, Bolingbroke allowed the lords weeks to acclimatise to the change, York gave them days. All this made little difference to York since he only survived his humiliation by a couple of months. He died in an unnecessary battle on the penultimate day of the year at the hands of his nemesis, Queen Margaret.

Personally, I do not think York planned to take the throne until the situation in 1459 made it plain that he must succeed or perish. The obduracy of the government, particularly the queen made it impossible to achieve political reform without removing the king, the source of royal authority. This was the constitutional weakness in the notion of absolute personal rule. An English monarch could only be removed by committing treason against him.

[1]. ‘The Remembrance of the firste batell of Seint Albanis’: see British Library MS Adds 48031A ff127v— 129 reproduced at pages 191-193 of Margaret Lucille Kekewich and four others (editors) –The Politics of Fifteenth Century England: John Vale’s Book (Allan Sutton Publishing 1995) [John Vales Book]

[2] Kekewich at page 22: this quote is part of an assessment of Yorkist ideology by John Watts (Polemic and Politics in the 1450’s) published in John Vale’s book.

[3] Trevor Royle- The Wars of the Roses (Abacus 2010) at page 237; Royle is quoting Dr Thomas Gascoigne the chancellor of Oxford University writing in 1457 (‘Loci e libro veritatum, J E T Rogers (editor) (Oxford 1881) at pages 203-206. See also Griffiths at page 776 who describes Dr Gascoigne as ‘embittered’.

[4]. RA Griffiths -The Reign of King Henry VI (Sutton 1987 edition); see pages 773-785 or a useful analysis of the Lancastrian government between 1456 and 1460, and especially page 776 for an assessment of Queen Margaret.

[5]. Griffiths at pages 823 and 824; it is clear from his detailed analysis that the Acts of Attainder passed on the Yorkist lords were intended to destroy them utterly. They were permanent, with no hope of pardon unless the king so wished. Griffiths concludes that lawyers (very likely) including John Morton drafted the acts.

[6]. P A Johnson – Duke Richard of York 1411-1460 (Oxford 1991 corrected edition) at pages 195 to 200; Griffiths at pages 855 and 856; and Royle at page 251. The Yorkist leaders met at Waterford and then moved to Dublin. There is no record of what they discussed; though, it seems obvious that they were concocting their plan for returning to England. What seems to have been agreed is that they would seek greater support from the English lords and mount a co-ordinated landing in England: Warwick in Kent and York in the north at the appropriate time.

[7] So called for his oft expressed desire for vengeance for the death of his father at first St Albans

[8] Griffiths page 864; it should be noted that he was in the hands of strangers; men he had neither selected nor knew. It is not surprising he was downcast.

[9] Johnson at pages 213 to 216 quotes at length from an undated and anonymous letter to John Tiptof , earl of Worcester that suggests that York’s intention was to depose king Henry VI and have himself crowned on the 13 October 1460.

[10]. See Johnson at pages 210 to 218 for a detailed account of events during October 1460. I have taken the liberty of lifting this account almost verbatim from Johnson.

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