I really like the illustrated family trees I came upon at this other WordPress site. Well worth a visit.
Well, well, this author appears to have expunged Lionel of Clarence and his line from the annals of history, in order to make the Lancastrian claim to the throne senior to that of York. When, thanks to Lionel, it ended up the other way around. Lionel was the 2nd son of Edward III, Lancaster the 3rd, and York the 4th. Put 2nd and 4th together, and you have something rather more superior than the 3rd. Yes? Yes.
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!
According to this site, (http://www.northamptonshiresurprise.com/news/2018/the-battle-decided-by-a-banbury-bar-maid/) Edward IV lost the Battle of Edgecote Heath in 1469 because of a Banbury barmaid. And no, amazingly, Edward was not involved in the lustful squabble. The culprits were the Earls of Pembroke and Devon. . .and a barmaid from Banbury.
It seems that prior to the battle:-
“Edward decided to wait in Nottingham for the William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke and Humphrey Stafford, Earl of Devon, arriving with an army from the south. The strength of this army was around 15,000 -20,000 men and had with it over 200 Welsh nobles. Unusually, most of the archers were with the Earl of Devon, whilst Pembroke’s contingent included around 2,000 cavalry under Pembroke’s brother, Sir Richard Herbert.”
“On 25th July, Pembroke and Devon arrived at Banbury. According to legend, they argued over who would spend the night with a barmaid. Pembroke won and Devon left in a sulk, taking his forces with him. The real cause of the altercation will probably be never known; however, Devon withdrew with his men to Deddington Castle, thus dividing their army at a crucial point.”
When the battle commenced, the rebels (Robin of Redesdale, Warwick and George of Clarence):-
“…attacked across the river, forcing Pembroke to retreat and pull his men back some distance. Pembroke was attacked again in his new position, but he put up a brave defence while awaiting Devon. At 1 o’clock the Earl received the news he had been waiting for: Devon was rapidly advancing with all his men. However, at the same time the advance guard of Warwick’s army arrived upon the field. Rebel morale was instantly boosted. Seeing Warwick’s livery amongst the enemy, Pembroke’s men presumed his whole force of expert soldiers was upon them. The royal army broke and fled the field, possibly before Devon could even reinforce them.”
“The Earl of Devon never reached the battlefield and . . .fled with his army, but was captured and executed at Bridgewater, Somerset a few weeks later. The Herberts [the earl and his brother] were taken to Northampton’s Queen Eleanor’s Cross and executed in the presence of Warwick and Clarence.”
Robin of Redesdale was believed to have died in the battle, although there is an element of doubt about this.
Edward IV fled the country, and Henry VI was put on the throne again. However, Edward returned in 1471, defeated Henry’s army (well, Margaret of Anjou’s) at Tewkesbury, and remained on the throne until his death in 1483.
So, we have lust for a Banbury barmaid to blame for the outcome of the Battle of Edgecote Moor. The lady’s name does not seem to have been recorded….
As we mentioned here, Ashdown-Hill’s biography of Richard’s mother was published in April. Whilst his latest, to which we shall return later, was released today, we shall concentrate on Cecily here.
This is the book that summarises Cecily’s life by delineating her full and half-siblings, demonstrating that portraits (right) previously assumed to be of her and Richard, Duke of York, are of other people. Ashdown-Hill then lists her pregnancies and shows where each of her children were probably born – there is no mention of a Joan but there is further evidence about the birth date of the future Edward IV and Cecily’s ordeals during the first peak of the Roses battles. He deduces how much she knew and how she probably felt about Edward’s bigamy and the Wydevilles, together with the part she played, as a Dowager Duchess, in Richard III’s coronation, but also her years living under Henry VII and a “between the lines” interpretation of her will.
In all, the eighty years of Cecily’s life, survived only by two of her daughters are described in great detail in a book that demonstrates further painstaking research by an author who clearly knows even more about the fifteenth century than he did two years ago.
Now on to this one (right) …
There is an interesting article by Sally Self in the Victoria County History, Gloucestershire, Newsletter 8, January 2018. I will repeat it in full, before making any comments of my own. Not to disprove anything, I hasten to say, but to show my own efforts to find out more about this key. I wish to thank Sally for giving me permission to reproduce her article.
“Cade Key or Cade Key? (GA 2025/Box8443/1)
“A recent discovery made while cataloguing at the Archives has intrigued several of us. A large iron key [estimated 10-11 cm] was found under documents that apparently had little relevance. The key has a wooden tag attached, noting that it belonged to the Cade family and was for the family vault. Showing the key to others elicited various suggestions. ‘They will have had to send for a locksmith’, ‘they would have needed a large hacksaw’ to ‘they won’t have been able to bury anyone’ and ‘explosives might be necessary.’
“When browsing for information on the ‘Cade’ family up sprung the words ‘Cade Key’. So, thought I, others have been there before me! Seemingly the family name was not ‘Cade’ but ‘Cade Key’ – I must have read the wooden tag incorrectly. Back to the key itself – but no it did indeed say ‘Key to the Cade Family Vault under Greenwich Church’.
“More research was needed. The ‘Cade’ family is of ancient Yorkshire lineage, probably pre-Conquest, with a coat of arms – I can buy a mug and/or a key ring embossed with their shield. The surname may derive from the word for a barrel or cask, possibly used as the sign for an ale house. There was of course Jack Cade of the Kent Revolt, 1450 and Shakespeare uses it in ‘stealing a cade of herrings’. According to family history sites, both the Cade and Cade Key family are now widely spread around the world, particularly in America and Australia.
“The Cade Key family vault is in Hampstead, where they lived in the early 19th century, William being nominated as a possible Sheriff for London, but he died in Bath in 1823. Further research into the families would have taken days and would probably not have shed any further light on ‘our’ key.
“So to the ‘Greenwich Church’. The most likely church is St Alfege of Greenwich, dedicated to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was martyred on the site in 1012. The medieval church of 1290 collapsed in a storm of 1710 and the present church was designed by Hawksmoor. If indeed the Cades are buried there, then they have illustrious company – Thomas Tallis, General James Wolfe, Henry Kelsey, an English-born explorer of Canada, the actress Lavinia Fenton and others – unfortunately no Cades are acknowledged!
“So one is left to wonder – did they have to break into their vault? If anyone is at Greenwich and has time to visit the church, perhaps they could find the answer!”
An intriguing item, this key. Why is it labelled as belonging to the Cade family vault at Greenwich, if there is no Cade family vault beneath that church? I agree with Sally that the church referred to has to be St Alfege’s, simply because there does not appear to be another candidate. However, there is a coat of arms for the Cade family of Greenwich. It is described in The General Armory as: “Erm. Three piles issuing out of a chief engr. Sa. Crest—A demi cockatrice gu. Winged or, combed of the first.” Which I think is something like the illustration below left, although I see no cockatrice, demi or otherwise.
So I investigated St Alfege’s. A church has stood on the site for 1000 years, and the present building is the third version. The medieval version was where Henry VIII was christened in 1491. According to From the Shadows: The Architecture and Afterlife of Nicholas Hawksmoor by Owen Hopkins:-
“During the night of 28 November 1710, a great storm ripped through London. Perhaps already weakened by the ‘Great Infamous Wind’ that had plagued Britain the previous month or maybe by excavations in the churchyard, the roof of the medieval church of St Alfege in Greenwich collapsed.”
When Nicholas Hawksmoor’s replacement church was built, the money ran out before his tower could be built, so in 1730 the old medieval tower was encased and redesigned by John James of Greenwich, with the addition of a steeple, to look as if it belonged to the rest of Hawksmoor’s design.
Is the crypt pre-Hawksmoor? It seems not. According to the National Churches Trust:
“The crypt is best known as the burial place of General James Wolfe but it was designed by Nicholas Hawksmoor to be a space for the living, and possibly a school. Soon after the church was consecrated in 1718, the parishioners of Greenwich decided they had other plans. People paid to be buried on the floor of the crypt and as a result the current floor level is about three feet higher than the original. Wealthy local families set up family burial vaults in the crypt, like the one used for James Wolfe. The vaults contain over 1,000 bodies. The crypt is currently only open to the public a few times a year.”
So I think the key must be 18th-century, as must be the Cade family vault to which it belongs. If there were to be such a vault. But there isn’t. Not in Greenwich, anyway. So which part of the key’s label is incorrect? The name Cade? The fact that it is concerned with Greenwich? Or maybe even that it isn’t the key to anyone’s vault, but to something else? Or, it belongs to the vault in Hampstead, where the Cades lived at the beginning of the 19th century. The site of the parish church of St-John-at-Hampstead (above) is, like St Alfege’s, about 1000 years old, and the present building is not the original, dating from 1747. There was a tomb in the churchyard (perhaps still is?) belonging to ‘Marck Cade, surgeon (1773)’. But if the key belongs to a vault in Hampstead, why is it in the Gloucester Archives? And how has it been misidentified?
When one thinks of the name Cade, it is almost always in connection with Jack Cade, who led a rebellion in Kent in 1450. Cade is still a very interesting and slightly mysterious figure. According to Matthew Lewis:-
“In July 1450, a mysterious man known as Jack Cade led a huge force of common men from Kent into London to protest against the ailing government of the Lancastrian king Henry VI. This episode is generally regarded as being outside the bounds of the Wars of the Roses, but those edges are blurred and elastic.
“When Jack Cade entered the capital he struck the London Stone, which can still be seen on Cannon Street, and, according to Shakespeare, proclaimed: “Now is Mortimer lord of this city!” After this, Cade openly adopted the provocative name John Mortimer. The Mortimer line was considered by many to be senior to the Lancastrian line, since the Mortimers were heirs apparent to Richard II – so adding weight to the later Yorkist claim to the throne.
“In 1460 Richard, Duke of York would trace his lineage from Edward III’s second surviving son, Lionel, Duke of Clarence, whose only daughter had married Edmund Mortimer. The House of Lancaster was descended from John of Gaunt, Edward III’s third son. The Mortimer Earls of March had been considered the lawful heirs of the childless Richard II before he was deposed, and the Lancastrian kings eyed them with suspicion. Was Jack Cade a son of this deposed line seeking restitution?
“Many would later claim that Richard, Duke of York had arranged for Cade to use the name ‘Mortimer’ to measure the response to it. Stow’s Chronicle, a Tudor source, claimed that the object of the uprising was to place York upon the throne, and Baker’s later A Chronicle of the Kings of England called Cade “an instrument of the Duke of York”.
“Cade – who was captured and fatally wounded following the failure of his rebellion – is a fascinating, elusive figure. Was he a genuine claimant to the throne, a social campaigner, or a puppet?”
A very interesting man indeed, who may have been of far greater significance than we fully realize now. Or, he may simply have been a cypher. Unless evidence is found that tells us one way or another, we are not likely to find out now.
Whatever the facts, in 1450 he appeared to be firmly based in and connected to the south of England, Sussex and Kent. According to surnamedb.com:- “the first recorded spelling of the Cade family name is shown to be that of Eustace Cade, which was dated 1186, in the ‘Pipe Rolls of Lincolnshire’, during the reign of King Henry II.” The Victoria County History newsletter says the family originated in Yorkshire. I do not know which is right. Perhaps both are, for I suppose they are not mutually exclusive.
By the way, the reason surnames became necessary was in order to tax people! Might have known. Otherwise, I suppose we’d all still be something like Will, son of Will, or Margaret, daughter of Will, and so on.
But the mystery of the Cade key lingers on. Has anyone any ideas about it? In the meantime, I do hope a present member of the Cade family isn’t seeking a key to the ancestors’ vault. . .in Greenwich or Hampstead.
See more about St Alfege’s Church at:-
Here is an article from English Historical Review, 1st June 1998, telling of how and why Richard, 3rd Duke of York, laid claim to the throne of England. The root cause was an entail to the will of Edward III, who was admittedly in his dotage at the time. The entail, which excluded a female line from ascending the throne, spoils that otherwise excellent king’s legacy as far as I’m concerned. But then, I’m a modern woman who doesn’t hold with the denying of rights simply because the ones being denied are the female of the species! Or the denial of anyone’s true and honest rights, come to that. True and honest being the operative words.
The mastermind behind this entail was Edward’s 3rd son, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, who sought to eliminate any claim from the descendants of his 2nd eldest brother, Lionel. Those descendants were, of course, through the female line, which line happened to be the one from whom Richard, 3rd Duke of York, was descended. Gaunt’s purpose was to see that his own line took precedence. It did in the end, but not in a way old Edward III could have foreseen, and not through the entail. Instead it took the form of Gaunt’s son and heir usurping and murdering his first cousin and rightful king, Richard II, heir of the great Black Prince. Gaunt’s son took the throne and became Henry IV, the first Lancastrian monarch.
So it seems that gallant Gaunt leaned on his dying father to achieve his own ambitious ends. But that’s the House of Lancaster for you! And it was Gaunt’s double-dealing chicanery that eventually led to Richard, 3rd Duke of York, claiming the throne that was his by right. And it all led to what we know as the Wars of the Roses.
However, there just might be some doubt about the entail’s existence. According to Penny Lawne’s biography of Joan of Kent: “…In preparation for his [Edward III’s] death he drew up his will, one of the witnesses being Sir Richard Stury, and in an entail specifically designated Richard (II) as his successor…” There is no mention of excluding any female line, but then, Lawne is very pro-Gaunt throughout, so I suppose the nitty-gritty of such an entail was better omitted. Unless, of course, all the entail ever really did was designate Richard of Bordeaux as the old king’s successor. In which case, where did the story of Gaunt’s pressure and interference come from? Ah, well, later in her book, Lawne lays the blame at the feet of Walsingham, who “held Gaunt in particular contempt, convinced he wanted the throne for himself, and repeated virulent gossip and rumours current about the duke…” Walsingham, it seems, even went so far as to portray Gaunt trying to persuade the Commons to discuss the succession, and was so intent upon removing opposition that he requested a law be passed to forbid a woman from inheriting the throne, “which would obviate the claim of Lionel’s daughter Philippa, who arguably held the most legitimate claim to the throne after the prince’s son”. So, this business of excluding females’ claims was due to Gaunt browbeating the Commons, not to Edward III’s entail?
Well, not being a fan of John of Gaunt, I am quite prepared to believe he put the screws on his dying father, in order to ensure the House of Lancaster becoming heir to Richard II’s throne, in the event of Richard childless demise. But I can also believe he’d go to work on Parliament. Gaunt was ruthless when it came to furthering his own family, and how better to achieve this than paving the path to the throne? Either way, he tried to see the succession go to the House of Lancaster.
Richard, 3rd Duke of York, quite rightly, did not think the House of Lancaster had any business wearing the crown. He was descended from Lionel, Duke of Clarence, and truly believed his (senior) line had precedence. I believe so too. Maybe it was through the female line, but it was perfectly legitimate, and until the demise of Edward III and that pesky entail (or Gaunt’s other forceful activities), there had not been a bar on women taking the throne. Yes, they had to stand back while their brothers took precedence, but if those brothers died, then they themselves had every right to be crowned. Lionel of Clarence only had one child, a daughter. His right passed to her, not to his conniving next brother, Gaunt.
Richard of York WAS the rightful king.
Now, of course, it has all been changed, and women can take precedence even if they have a younger brother(s). The line goes through age, not gender. And about time too!
In the English Civil War, there was a Royalist commander named Richard Neville (left). Unlike his namesake and relative (right), this Colonel of Horse survived the campaign, fighting at the first Battle of Newbury and being with Charles I at Oxford at the conclusion of the first War. He became a High Sheriff, Lord Lieutenant, JP before he died, peacefully, at 61.
h/t Only Connect, who reminded us that there is also a publisher and a singer by this name.
Oxford is well-known for its stunning medieval college buildings. It would take days, if not weeks, to carefully visit them all.
Several, however, have items of particular interest to those who study the House of York and Wars of the Roses time period.
The old Divinity School is an interesting stop. It was built between 1427-1483 and was an area for oral examinations and theology discussions. Apparently the exams could take days in the Middle Ages, with people wandering in and out! The groined hall is very beautiful, with very fine fan-vaulting which probably dates from the 1480’s. There are over 400 bosses which are intriguing to view, containing shields, beasts, initials, flowers and inscriptions. . Right in the centre of the chamber you can quickly pick out Edward IV’s arms and the Sunne in Splendour. Apparently Edward never came here, but the builders of the day thought it best to honour him anyway.
(While there, is is well worth seeing Duke Humphrey’s Library upstairs. Humphrey, 1st Duke of Gloucester, was an early book afficionado who had manuscripts translated from Greek to Latin. Upon his in 1447 death, he donated all his manuscripts, almost 300 of them, to the University. The library which took his name was set up as another storey to the already-existing Divinity school. Several of Humphrey’s books still survive…though, alas, most of the original books were pilfered by the King’s Commisioners in 1550…)
Magdalen College is another Oxford site of great interested. Begun by William Waynflete, Bishop of Winchester, in 1458, but the main building phase did not begin until 1467, when the encircling wall was raised. In 1474 chapel, cloisters, hall and library were built. The charitect was primarily William Orchard, who also designed the famous ceiling of the Divinity School.
Edward IV visited the college in 1481 and was welcomed by Waynflete, who, having been a loyal Lancastrian, asked for and received a royal pardon. Many Yorkist symbols can be found throughout the buildings, including a statue of a rather stern-looking Edward on the college’s front gate.
Inside, under the roof of the pulpit, there appears to be the Rose en Soleil…but having been painted red (or repainted) , it has become a Tudor Rose, possibly when the famous tall tower was added in the 1490’s. There also appears to be the possible royal coat of arms in the Cloisters, and a number of rose carvings.
There is also another statue of a king (restored, maybe replaced) above the inside gateway into the cloisters–it is not certain who it is. Some have said Henry VI but this seems unlikely given the dates of construction. Some have said it’s another depiction of Edward. It may well be, but it looks a quite different from the statue in the gateway, smaller, less stern, with curlier hair. I have always though–why not Richard? And why not? He was here while on his first progress in 1483, and stayed to hear several lectures. There was certainly time to commomorate his stay, and it would not be surprising if any possible added statuary fell out of common knowledge after Bosworth (just as the Silver Boar given to an Cambridge College ended up for many years mislabelled as being a gift of Richard II!)
“The Canterbury Roll is the most significant and substantial medieval artefact in New Zealand. For 100 years, UC has been the guardian of this unique 600-year-old treasure, which tells the history of England from its mythical origins to the late Middle Ages….”
The above is a tantalising reference to a roll that promises to reveal some fascinating facts. We hope. It covers the period of the Wars of the Roses and was originally Lancastrian, but fell into Yorkist hands and was, um, adjusted. Whether to point to the truth or tinker with it has yet to be discovered.
Looking forward to its unravelling!