Well, British Summer time is now officially over and the hardy henge-workers are currently moving the megaliths at Avebury and Stonehenge into their winter-hours position!
Time to celebrate the exciting festival shortly to take place–no, not Christmas (yet)–but the quasi-pagan Halloween, All Hallows/AllSaints/All Souls…and the execution of Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham in Salisbury Market Square on November 2!
Well, we all know the story (and that’s just what it was, a story) about the demise of the boys’ uncle, George, Duke of Clarence, in a butt of Malmsey, but this is the first I’ve heard of the boys themselves suffering a similar fate.
“The manner of their death triggered debate among contemporaries, many of whom believed they were strangled in bed, drowned in Malmsey wine, or poisoned.”
This is taken from Martyrs in the Making: Political Martyrdom in Late Medieval England, by Danna Piroyansky, and she gives many sources:-
The Great Chronicle of London, A.H. Thomas and I.D. Thornley (eds) (London, 1938), pp 236-7. For an overview of the various speculations see, for example, P.W. Hammond and W.J. White, ‘The Sons of Edward IV: A Re-examination of the Evidence on Their Deaths and on the Bones in Westminster Abbey’, in Loyalty, Lordship and Law, P.W. Hammond (ed) (London, 1986), pp. 104-47; A. Weir, The Princes in the Tower (NY, 1992), chapter 13; A.J. Pollard, Richard III and the Princes in the Tower (NY, 1991), chapter 5. Many articles on the subject of the princes’ fate have been published in The Ricardian (the publication of the Richard III Society) along the years.
Whether any of these actually say the boys perished in Malmsey I don’t know, I only know I hadn’t heard the theory before. However, I do know that the book from which I have taken this information adopts an unashamedly Lancastrian viewpoint, and Richard is damned outright. For example:-
“Many suspected the usurper Richard III of instigating the princes’ murder. True or false, Richard III had no interest in promoting a cult around them, one which could only have drawn attention to their rightful claims to the throne. Henry VII may have been interested in them, but was too preoccupied with other challenges to his reign to rake over past events.”
Um. . . Where shall I start? The usurper Richard III? No, he was the true king. The boys’ rightful claims to the throne? Rubbish. Henry VII too preoccupied to rake over past events? Good grief. No mention of Edward IV’s bigamy. And of course Henry kept quiet – the last thing he wanted was for the boys to still be alive! He’d reversed Titulus Regius in order to marry the boys’ big sister! If they’d turned up alive, they’d have a much, much better claim to the throne than he did.
If anyone murdered the boys (and we don’t know what happened to them, let alone whether they died naturally, were murdered or even lived into old age), it was Henry Tudor and his Beaufort mother. Or the Duke of Buckingham. As for Henry not having time to rake over the past, for Pete’s sake, he did it all the time! He was both hounded and haunted by it. As well he might have been, given his usurpation and guilty conscience. Oh, yes, there was a usurper at Bosworth, and it wasn’t Richard!
I will not go on. The book has nothing good to say about the House of York, and I wish I’d never bought it. My reason wasn’t even anything to do with York, but because there is a section that deals with the 1397 trial and execution of Richard Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel, in whom I am very interested. Another man who generally gets a bad press, of course. Trust me to find a great deal to like and admire about him! (For more information about Arundel’s death and the “miracles” that gave rise to a cult, try here)
Here is a passage from https://englishhistory.net/tudor/monarchs/the-road-to-bosworth-battle-of-bosworth-field/
“…Buckingham [wrote] a letter to Henry on 24 September 1483 which stated he would support the rebellion against Richard, even though he and Henry’s interests may not be perfectly compatible. What is certain is that Buckingham suspected his own life was forfeit with Richard III; he and Henry Tudor could sort out things once Richard was defeated. . .”
Two things here. That Buckingham wrote a letter to Henry on 24th September 1483, pledging support, and that he also suspected his life was in danger from Richard.
I was reminded that Kendall mentioned such a communication in his 1955 biography of Richard III, so I took a look. On page 263 of my 1968 copy, it says:-
“. . .To him [Henry Tudor] a message was sent, by the Duke of Buckingham, by the advice of the lord Bishop of Ely, who was then his prisoner at Brecknock, requesting him [Henry] to hasten over to England as soon as possible, for the purpose of marrying Elizabeth, the eldest daughter of the late King, and at the same time, together with her, taking possession of the throne. . .” Source: Croyland Chronicle
Hmm, I’ll bet that last bit went down a treat with Henry! Together with her? It would drum up support, but Henry wanted to be king on his own—not through a Yorkist wife!
By the way, if this wording was indeed contained in a letter on 24 September 1483, it signifies that the boys in the Tower were definitely dead by then. Otherwise, if Elizabeth of York could be married and reach the throne, her two brothers would necessarily have precedence over her. Did Buckingham know they were dead? Had he been the one to extinguish them—well, order their demise, not do it himself. It therefore seems to me that their deaths served the Tudor-Buckingham-Lancastrian faction far more than Richard, who was already king. And who, my instinct tells me, would not have murdered his boy nephews. He wasn’t that sort of man. And if he wanted rid of his nephews, why omit his brother Clarence’s definitely legitimate son, Warwick? Attainders can be reversed, so Warwick was a claimant too. No, no, any murdering in the Tower was at hands other than Richard’s.
The high and mighty Buckingham had a blood claim to the throne that was infinitely better than Henry’s illegitimate line, so would he really connive to put the latter on the throne? Pigs will fly, methinks. Their goals were definitely not compatible! To begin with, Buckingham was far better off with his cousin Richard, who advanced him and favoured him with lands and riches. Henry could not better that. So why did Buckingham bother with this paltry fellow in Brittany? Why indeed. I think the slippery duke intended to pretend to support Henry, and use him until the opportune moment came to take the throne for himself.
Now to come to my second point. Was Buckingham really in fear of his life from Richard? Well, only if Richard discovered his treachery! So Buckingham’s plotting must have come first, because until it was revealed, Richard seems to have continued to trust and reward his ambitious ingrate of a cousin. According to Kendall, page 268, “Not until Richard reached Lincoln on October 11 did he learn that Buckingham had betrayed him.” To my mind, from that moment on Richard was more than justified in wanting Buckingham’s treacherous head on a plate.
When he learned of the rebellion, Richard cried out bitterly that Buckingham was the most untrue creature living. Hardly the reaction of a man who’d already been intent on ending Buckingham’s life. And when the rebellion failed and Buckingham was captured, Richard wouldn’t see him. The treacherous duke was beheaded, pleading with Richard for a meeting. But Buckingham richly deserved execution. Yes, ultimately, his life was threatened by Richard. But only after he’d shown his hand, not before. And when that letter to Henry Tudor was written, Richard knew nothing, being content that his Stafford cousin was his loyal friend and supporter.
This suggests to me that the meaning of the letter, if it said that Buckingham feared for his life, was the duke’s fore-knowledge that when Richard found him out, he would indeed be in fear of that life! Cause and effect.
It wasn’t the other way around, that Richard threatened him, leading Buckingham to defend his own neck by rebelling. Buckingham was a gaudy snake. It’s a shame that the Tudor snake didn’t get its just deserts too!
We all know that Mary Stuart was beheaded at Fotheringhay on 8 February 1587 and that the Spanish Armada sailed to facilitate a Catholic invasion of England in the following year, leaving Lisbon on 28 May and fighting naval battles in late July, at Plymouth and Portland. The traditional view is that Mary Stuart’s execution and Elizabeth I’s support for the revolt in the Spanish Netherlands provoked Phillip II’s wrath.
It is quite possible that this was not the case and that Phillip had
sought to overthrow his quondam sister-in-law much earlier. Mary, as the daughter of Marie de Guise and widow of Francis II was the French-backed Catholic candidate for the English throne and Franco-Spanish rivalry ensured that Phillip, great nephew of Catherine of Aragon and a Lancastrian descendant proper+, would not act in concert with any of her plots; however her death cleared the way for him, especially as the French Wars of Religion were still to resolve themselves.
We can compare this with the England of 1685-8, as William of Orange allowed the Duke of Monmouth to attempt an invasion first and only asserted his stronger semi-marital claim against James VII/II afterwards. In 1483-5, by contrast, the Duke of Buckingham was legitimately descended from Edward III when he rebelled against Richard III, only for Henry “Tudor”, of dubious lineage, to benefit.
h/t Jeanne Griffin
+ See The Wars of The Roses, Ashdown-Hill, part 4.
Most old castles will have graffiti both old and new pecked into their stonework somewhere. People like to leave A symbol for posterity (often unfortunately.) Very few ancient buildings, however, have the owner’s name graven into them for for eternity.
Not so at Caldicot in Wales. If you walk around to the back of the castle, you will clearly find the name ‘Thomas’ carved into one of the stones low in the arch of the postern gate. This Thomas happens to be Thomas of Woodstock (born 1355), 1st Duke of Gloucester, Earl of Buckingham and youngest son of Edward III.
Thomas was married to Eleanor de Bohun; Eleanor’s name is also on the door frame, although not as prominent as her husband’s. Her sister was Mary de Bohun, who married Henry Bolingbroke, the future Henry IV. The sister were co-heiresses of the huge Bohun inheritance.
Thomas was one of the Lords Appellant who rose against Richard II, who was Thomas’s nephew. Thomas had early on showed disrespectful behaviour to the young king, bursting into his presence unannounced and speaking to him in a manner deemed improper. He was involved in a rebellion in 1388, which weakened Richard’s reign, and participated in the ‘Merciless Parliament’ which curbed Richard’s powers to rule.
However, when Richard married his second wife and began to forge continental alliances, Thomas became wrathful and angry once more. He complained bitterly to one of his knights that the king should have been invading France, not making a marriage with a French princess. He scorned the king as being indolent and only interested in food and drink instead of war and glory.
Soon after, he approached Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, the grandson of Lionel of Clarence, and tried to involve him in a plot to depose and imprison the king and his new young wife. Roger, uneasy, made his excuses and vanished over to Ireland.
Word of Woodstock’s potential plot reached the king and Thomas was arrested in the presence of the king himself, who had ridden out with him, pleasantly enough it seemed, from Thomas’ castle at Pleshey–then suddenly galloped on before him, leaving the guards to deal with Woodstock, who was hustled out of England on a ship and taken to Calais Castle. There, two months after his capture and just after giving his ‘confession,’ he died suddenly–rumours says he was strangled or suffocated by a mattress on or around September 8..
Thomas’s claim to Caldicot Castle was through Eleanor; it was part of the Bohun inheritance.He did not get to spend much time there but did order much building–the Woodstock Tower and the massive gatehouse with its vast apartments and unusual ornamentation.
The castle passed to his daughter Anne of Gloucester, who married, as her second husband, Edmund Stafford, later killed fighting at the Battle of Shrewsbury. They had a son, however, called Humphrey, who became the 1st Duke of Buckingham; a loyal Lancastrian, he died for their cause at Northampton. Humphrey’s grandson, of course, was the notorious Henry Stafford, suspect in the disappearance of the ‘Princes in the Tower’ and a rebel who lost his head in Salisbury on November 2 1483…
The picturesque little Gloucestershire town of Thornbury is not in the Cotswolds, but down in the Vale of the River Severn, between Bristol and Gloucester. Caught between the Cotswold escarpment and the Severn estuary, it is an area of rich farmland, with orchards for cider and perry, and pasture for the production of cheese.
Everyone knows about nearby Berkeley Castle, with its grisly tales of red hot pokers, and perhaps a lot of people know there was once a castle at Gloucester, to guard the first bridge over the tidal river. Not so many will know that there is also a Thornbury Castle, or that it is now a luxury hotel.
You drive down through Thornbury’s beautiful High Street and into Castle Street, toward the originally Norman church of St Mary at the bottom. And there, behind the church, is the castle and its magnificent grounds.
Actually, Thornbury was not always a castle, for it started as a manor house, where Richard II, stayed there on this day, 26th August 1386. There the king met the Cornish writer John Trevisa, who was working on his Polychronicon and the state of the royal prerogative. Richard was to request him to write a history of English kings, from Brutus to his, Richard’s, reign.
Henry VII very graciously gave Thornbury to his uncle, Jasper Tudor, whom he elevated to become Duke of Bedford. Jasper died there on 21st December, 1495. In his bed, at the age of 60-something. Not, as Wikipedia would have it, in 1521, beheaded for alleged treason by his “distant cousin” Henry VIII. Henry appropriated Thornbury and spent part of his “honeymoon” there with his new queen, Anne Boleyn. We all know the honeymoon period was soon over!
The nobleman who died in 1521 was Edward Stafford, the 3rd Duke of Buckingham, and yes, he was executed for treason. He was the son of Henry Stafford, the second duke, whom Richard III rightly called “the most untrue creature living”. Rebellion against Richard resulted in the second duke’s execution in Salisbury in 1483. So his son hated the House of York, and supported the Tudors. Much good it did him, for they hacked his head off anyway.
So you will see that Thornbury has had its share of royal visitors. No doubt there have been more, but I only give a flavour of the history that attaches to this beautiful house. Yes, it is now a castle, having been rebuilt by the above-mentioned Edward Stafford. It was sold in 2017, and so must now be under new management.
A stay there would be a delightful experience, I’m sure, but a word of warning. Jasper Tudor’s ghost is said to wander around of a night…
Oh, and even worse, there is a room called the Duke’s Bedchamber, and it is where Henry VIII supposedly slept. Rather you occupy it, my friends, than me!
Here is a link to the hotel’s website. It contains some wonderful aerial views of the castle and grounds. Worth looking at!
This very informative BBC documentary, presented by Dr. Bendor Grosvenor, showed how a portrait, presently on display in Glasgow, was proved to be an original Rubens. George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham, was a courtier and soldier, serving under both James VI/I and Charles I as well as being a possible partner of the former. He was assassinated in 1628 and the portrait (left) dates from about three years before this.
Villiers’ line fared no better than their predecessors in their tenure of the Buckingham title. Just as two of the three Stafford Dukes were executed and one killed at Northampton over their 67 years, Villiers’ son went into exile in France after serving in Charles II’s “CABAL” – he left no male heir and both his brothers had already died without issue. The title was recreated, with Normanby, for John Sheffield in 1703 but his male line expired in 1735 whilst Richard Grenville’s family held it, with Chandos, from 1822-89.
Well, I’ve heard the tale of Sir Rhys ap Thomas hiding under a bridge for Henry to march over him on the way to Bosworth, thus not breaking Sir Rhys’s oath of loyalty to Richard, but this is a new one on me!
Now we have this new variation, from http://tudortimes.co.uk/military-warfare/1485-battle-of-bosworth/henrys-march :-
“. . .when Henry, now strengthened by Sir Rhys ap Thomas, and a contingent of men from North Wales, reached the town of Shrewsbury, to cross the Severn into England, the town gates were closed against him and the town bailiff, Thomas Mitton, announced that, as he had sworn allegiance to Richard, he could not allow Richmond to pass.
“The closure of the town of Gloucester to the Lancastrians in 1471, preventing the crossing of the Severn, had proved disastrous for them – would the same be the case for Henry at Shrewsbury? Henry assured the bailiff that he and his men would do no damage and that they would not interfere with his oath, but Mitton was adamant.
“The next morning however, there was a change of heart. . .due to the intervention of Sir William Stanley.
“Henry and his men passed through – apparently with Henry stepping his horse carefully over Mitton’s body, to preserve the word of the man’s oath – although the same story is told in other circumstances of other men, so may be apocryphal. Impressed by Henry, or perhaps cowed by Sir William, the town then paid £4 4s 10d for soldiers for him. . .”
But the above site is not the original source for this story. There is an earlier one.
“An interesting anecdote of Thomas Mytton is related in the following extract from Owen and Blakeway’s History of Shrewsbury, vol. i, p. 245, describing the incidents of the Earl of Richmond’s (Henry VII) march through Shropshire to Bosworth Field:- “He delayed his march to Shrewsbury till he was master of Forton and Montford Bridge, two points of main importance to his designs, as he was thus provided with a passage into the midland counties, even though this town should shut her gates upon him. Having secured that bridge, which, if the Salopians had been hearty in the cause of Richard, they would have broken down, his army encamped upon Forton Heath, and he despatched messengers to Shrewsbury to summon the town. When they arrived at the foot of the Welsh bridge, they found the place in a posture of defence; the gates shut, the portcullis let down, and the bailiffs within ready to give their answer. “The senior of these magistrates for that year was Thomas Mytton, Esq., whom we have lately seen as Sheriff of the county, engaged in the arrest of the Duke of Buckingham. He is described in an old chronicle as ‘ a stout wise gentleman’, and made answer that he knew the Earl for no King, but ‘ only Kynge Rychard, whose lyffetenants he and hys fellowe weare, and before he shoulde enter there, he should goe over hys belly’, meaninge thereby, continues our authority, ‘ that he would be slayne to the grounde and so to (be) roon over (by) him before he entryd; and that he protested vehemently upon the othe he dad taken.’
“Much conversaton, we may suppose, ensued, but Mr. Mytton continuing resolute, the Earl ‘ retornyd’, says our chronicle, ‘ wyth hys companye backe agayn to Forton . . . .’ On the following morning the negotiation with the Bailiffs of Shrewsbury was renewed, and the Earl assured the magistrates that he did not mean to hurt the town or any of its inhabitants, but only desired to pass on to try his right to the Crown. We are told that Mr. Mytton began to yeald to these suggestions, but that on account of the oath he had so lately taken to oppose the entrance of Richmond into Shrewbury, he adopted the ingenious expedient of lying down on the ground and permitting the Earl to step over him. Thereupon the portcullis was drawn up, and the Earl and his retinue admitted within the gates, to the general joy of the inhabitants, and received, we are assured, ‘ with an Ave chaire (Xaipe), and God speede the wel! the streets being strowed with hearbes and flowers, and their doores adorned with greene boughs, in testimony of a true hartie reception.'”
Well, Henry was still some way from Bosworth, so I imagine there are a few more such myths waiting in the wings. They’ll be throwing their cloaks over puddles next! Or dropping their garters!
For anyone interested in knowing what made slippery Lord Stanley tick, here is an excellent evaluation, save that Sir William was executed for refusing to oppose “Perkin”, not for supporting him. The man was a born opportunist and survivor. Full stop. Oh, and he had an evil beard!