Just a short post to draw attention to an interesting post on Woodstock on the Plantagenet Dynasty blog.
Woodstock clearly fancied himself as a great warrior, but when he had the chance to prove himself in command of military expeditions he showed himself to be mediocre at best.
Showing posts with label Thomas of Woodstock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thomas of Woodstock. Show all posts
Friday, 14 August 2009
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
The Loyal Conspiracy by Anthony Goodman
I've been looking for a cheap copy of The Loyal Conspiracy by Anthony Goodman for some time, and the other day I got lucky and found one, in Southport of all places. (Actually, for UKers among you, Southport is a surprisingly good place to go - there are at least three shops with a respectable stock of proper, second-hand books, the sort of business that used to be common but isn't any more.)
As you may have guessed, the book is about the Appellants, and Goodman broadly sympathises with them, as hinted in the title. At one point he refers to the likes of Bagot and Mowbray having to make the sort of choices that were familiar to many in the 20th century - do you know, I think Professor Goodman is almost comparing Richard II to Hitler and Stalin! Well, folks, I know which of the three I'd prefer to deal with, and it certainly wouldn't be any 20th century dictator.
It is a useful book however, and provides a stack of information about the Appellants. One thing I have noticed, already, is how generous Richard II was to Thomas of Woodstock in the 1390s. As late as 16 April 1397, about three months before he was arrested, he was pardoned a debt of £1074, 1 shilling and eightpence farthing that he owed to the Crown. There's more. Goodman reports Froissart saying that in 1395-6 Woodstock was continuously soliciting favours. (My italics). Poor old Woodstock, scraping along on a meagre £2500 a year, easily 1 million in modern money, how he suffered under that brutal regime! Where do I find a government to tyrannise me on similar terms?
As you may have guessed, the book is about the Appellants, and Goodman broadly sympathises with them, as hinted in the title. At one point he refers to the likes of Bagot and Mowbray having to make the sort of choices that were familiar to many in the 20th century - do you know, I think Professor Goodman is almost comparing Richard II to Hitler and Stalin! Well, folks, I know which of the three I'd prefer to deal with, and it certainly wouldn't be any 20th century dictator.
It is a useful book however, and provides a stack of information about the Appellants. One thing I have noticed, already, is how generous Richard II was to Thomas of Woodstock in the 1390s. As late as 16 April 1397, about three months before he was arrested, he was pardoned a debt of £1074, 1 shilling and eightpence farthing that he owed to the Crown. There's more. Goodman reports Froissart saying that in 1395-6 Woodstock was continuously soliciting favours. (My italics). Poor old Woodstock, scraping along on a meagre £2500 a year, easily 1 million in modern money, how he suffered under that brutal regime! Where do I find a government to tyrannise me on similar terms?
Thursday, 13 March 2008
The Problems of Richard II
Medieval government was very dependent on the personal strengths (or weaknesses) of the reigning sovereign. If the king was unable to act for some reason, perhaps because he was temporarily unwell, it did not take long for the structure to start to creak. It's true that there was a bureaucracy (the ancestor of the civil service) and a council (not quite a cabinet, but capable of taking some executive decisions on the king's absence) but the king's input was vital.
Richard came to the throne while he was still a child, and there's no doubt that he had been raised by his father, the Black Prince, with a very high estimation of his own sacred person and of the royal prerogative. In a sense this was not controversial - there was no questioning of the king's right to rule, or of his exalted status in the hierarchy. The first problem was that he never developed the broad relationship with the nobility that Edward III (for example) had enjoyed - one has the impression that he was on a slightly different wavelength to people like his Uncle Gloucester, or the Earl of Arundel. He preferred to rule through a clique of his own choice, not always giving his important relatives the power they thought they deserved. (Come to think of it Edward IV ruled in the same way, so maybe Richard wasn't that far out?)
The second problem was that he had an awful lot of relatives to satisfy, and there was no way he was ever going to make them all happy. Medieval politics (if not politics in general) was ultimately all about the control of patronage, the gift of land, offices and revenues. The available pot was very small, and Richard had a nasty habit of giving most to the people he liked rather than those he disliked. Fancy that!
Third, the country was practically bankrupt. The long war with France which was so much part of the package of Edward III's allegedly glorious reign had resulted in the crown amassing intolerable debts. The normal revenue of England was only just enough to keep things ticking over - war meant taxation, and taxation was unpopular except (rarely) when the war was going really well. It was deeply unpopular when we were losing. The appalling financial straits that Richard inherited resulted in such measures as the Poll Tax which bore down most heavily on those least able to pay. (It would seem we still have the same taxation philosophy 627 years later.)
Several historians have explored Richard's psychological profile and developed various theories the latest of which - in Nigel's Saul's biography - is that the king was narcissistic. I'm no psychiatrist but I suppose my theory is as good as anyone else's. I suspect Richard was a depressive, maybe even bipolar. This would explain the difficulty he had in functioning at times, his occasional passionate - even violent - outbursts, and the problems he had with relationships outside his 'circle of trust'.
More another day...
Richard came to the throne while he was still a child, and there's no doubt that he had been raised by his father, the Black Prince, with a very high estimation of his own sacred person and of the royal prerogative. In a sense this was not controversial - there was no questioning of the king's right to rule, or of his exalted status in the hierarchy. The first problem was that he never developed the broad relationship with the nobility that Edward III (for example) had enjoyed - one has the impression that he was on a slightly different wavelength to people like his Uncle Gloucester, or the Earl of Arundel. He preferred to rule through a clique of his own choice, not always giving his important relatives the power they thought they deserved. (Come to think of it Edward IV ruled in the same way, so maybe Richard wasn't that far out?)
The second problem was that he had an awful lot of relatives to satisfy, and there was no way he was ever going to make them all happy. Medieval politics (if not politics in general) was ultimately all about the control of patronage, the gift of land, offices and revenues. The available pot was very small, and Richard had a nasty habit of giving most to the people he liked rather than those he disliked. Fancy that!
Third, the country was practically bankrupt. The long war with France which was so much part of the package of Edward III's allegedly glorious reign had resulted in the crown amassing intolerable debts. The normal revenue of England was only just enough to keep things ticking over - war meant taxation, and taxation was unpopular except (rarely) when the war was going really well. It was deeply unpopular when we were losing. The appalling financial straits that Richard inherited resulted in such measures as the Poll Tax which bore down most heavily on those least able to pay. (It would seem we still have the same taxation philosophy 627 years later.)
Several historians have explored Richard's psychological profile and developed various theories the latest of which - in Nigel's Saul's biography - is that the king was narcissistic. I'm no psychiatrist but I suppose my theory is as good as anyone else's. I suspect Richard was a depressive, maybe even bipolar. This would explain the difficulty he had in functioning at times, his occasional passionate - even violent - outbursts, and the problems he had with relationships outside his 'circle of trust'.
More another day...
Monday, 10 March 2008
Claims to the Throne
On the subject of claims to the throne, it has to be said that in the late 14th century the rules had not been fully worked out. It was fairly clear that a king would normally be succeeded by his eldest son, but what would happen in the event of a king dying without a son was far less clear.
It appears that towards the end of his reign Edward III purported to entail the crown on John of Gaunt in the event of Richard II dying without heirs. Rather illogical, since Edward had been loudly laying claim to France since 1340 on the basis of inheritance through his mother. However, logic is not always a strength of the world of politics, and the reality was that the king was senile and under the thumb of John of Gaunt, so that may have had something to do with it.
Richard II apparently decided that his successor should be Roger Mortimer Earl of March, who was the grandson of Lionel of Clarence, Gaunt's elder brother. This is faithfully recorded by the Westminster Chronicle, but the issue does not appear to have been entirely settled, and one suspects that Gaunt, his son Henry Bolingbroke, and maybe Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester, the king's youngest uncle, had other ideas.
Towards the end of his reign the question became even more open. Gaunt was dead, Bolingbroke was banished and declared a traitor, and Roger Mortimer, killed in Ireland in 1398, had fallen from favour and been recalled before his death, probably to face the music. Though Roger had a son (the same Earl of March involved in the Southampton Conspiracy) it seems Richard at this point made Edmund of Langley his heir. This is certainly the belief of Ian Mortimer in Fears of Henry IV and if he is correct it the House of York opened the Fetterlock rather more completely than I thought!
More on Mortimer's book, and Henry's rather dodgy claim, at another time. Suffice it to say that Henry IV entailed the succession on his heirs by parliamentary statute, the first sovereign to do so. (The practice later became quite fashionable!) When Edward IV succeeded, however, he did not enact a succession statute, because he believed he was the legitimate heir of Richard II, through his Mortimer grandmother. By modern succession arrangements, at least, he was correct.
It appears that towards the end of his reign Edward III purported to entail the crown on John of Gaunt in the event of Richard II dying without heirs. Rather illogical, since Edward had been loudly laying claim to France since 1340 on the basis of inheritance through his mother. However, logic is not always a strength of the world of politics, and the reality was that the king was senile and under the thumb of John of Gaunt, so that may have had something to do with it.
Richard II apparently decided that his successor should be Roger Mortimer Earl of March, who was the grandson of Lionel of Clarence, Gaunt's elder brother. This is faithfully recorded by the Westminster Chronicle, but the issue does not appear to have been entirely settled, and one suspects that Gaunt, his son Henry Bolingbroke, and maybe Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester, the king's youngest uncle, had other ideas.
Towards the end of his reign the question became even more open. Gaunt was dead, Bolingbroke was banished and declared a traitor, and Roger Mortimer, killed in Ireland in 1398, had fallen from favour and been recalled before his death, probably to face the music. Though Roger had a son (the same Earl of March involved in the Southampton Conspiracy) it seems Richard at this point made Edmund of Langley his heir. This is certainly the belief of Ian Mortimer in Fears of Henry IV and if he is correct it the House of York opened the Fetterlock rather more completely than I thought!
More on Mortimer's book, and Henry's rather dodgy claim, at another time. Suffice it to say that Henry IV entailed the succession on his heirs by parliamentary statute, the first sovereign to do so. (The practice later became quite fashionable!) When Edward IV succeeded, however, he did not enact a succession statute, because he believed he was the legitimate heir of Richard II, through his Mortimer grandmother. By modern succession arrangements, at least, he was correct.
Friday, 7 March 2008
Edmund of Langley blows his top - the details
The source is the Westminster Chronicle and by the way I didn't pay anything like the current Amazon UK price of £105. Lord, I should want it written out by a monk on parchment for that!
The year is 1388.
'...on 27 April, the Duke of York rose in full parliament on behalf of Sir Simon Burley, who, he declared, had been in all his dealings loyal to the king and the realm; and to anybody who wished to deny or gainsay this, he would himself give the lie and prove the point in personal combat. In reply the Duke of Gloucester said that Burley had been false to his allegiance, and this he offered to prove, if need were, with his own sword arm and without multiplying arguments. At this the Duke of York turned white with anger and told his brother to his face that he was a liar, only to receive a prompt retort in kind from the Duke of Gloucester; and after this exchange they would have hurled themselves upon each other had not the King, with characteristic mildness and goodwill, (my emphasis) been quick to calm them down.
For anyone who doesn't know, Burley was eventually executed, although he doesn't appear to have done anything outstandingly wrong. Except, of course, like various other people, he got up the Duke of Gloucester's nose.
Yet we are all supposed to feel sorry for poor old martyr Gloucester when Richard has him taken out in 1397!
The year is 1388.
'...on 27 April, the Duke of York rose in full parliament on behalf of Sir Simon Burley, who, he declared, had been in all his dealings loyal to the king and the realm; and to anybody who wished to deny or gainsay this, he would himself give the lie and prove the point in personal combat. In reply the Duke of Gloucester said that Burley had been false to his allegiance, and this he offered to prove, if need were, with his own sword arm and without multiplying arguments. At this the Duke of York turned white with anger and told his brother to his face that he was a liar, only to receive a prompt retort in kind from the Duke of Gloucester; and after this exchange they would have hurled themselves upon each other had not the King, with characteristic mildness and goodwill, (my emphasis) been quick to calm them down.
For anyone who doesn't know, Burley was eventually executed, although he doesn't appear to have done anything outstandingly wrong. Except, of course, like various other people, he got up the Duke of Gloucester's nose.
Yet we are all supposed to feel sorry for poor old martyr Gloucester when Richard has him taken out in 1397!
Thursday, 6 March 2008
Edmund of Langley
Before I go on to the Southampton plot, or start writing about two of the people I like most from all of history, I think I should say a bit about their dad, Edmund of Langley, father of the House of York.
Historians tend to be a bit sniffy about Edmund, generally rating him as incompetent, stupid, and generally useless - though I suspect he'd be better company on a pub crawl than most of them. If Edmund lived today he'd be driving a muddy Range Rover with dogs and shotguns in the back, and his feet would be clad in green wellies. He was much more interested in hunting than in politics, so the Chroniclers tell us. He also had an eye for the ladies, and according to Froissart was very much attached to his second wife, Joanne Holland - a mere 13 when she married him in 1393. (Different times, very different rules.)
Edmund was born in June 1341, the fifth (but fourth surviving) son of King Edward III and Queen Philippa. He started receiving grants of land as early as 1347, and his livelihood was gradually built up as he grew older, though he was never even a quarter as rich as big brother Gaunt. He took his fair share of fighting in the ongoing war against France, and he and Gaunt persuaded the Black Prince to halt the massacre of the people of Limoges - though it must be said that the main concern was to save French nobles. Edmund was given the Garter in 1361, and a year later was created Earl of Cambridge.
His first independent command was in Portugal 1381-82, and it turned out to be a complete fiasco. John of Gaunt never quite forgave him, and stated in his will that none of his money was to go to settling the accounts of the expedition.
York, like the rest of his family, was favoured by King Richard II, three times being left in charge of the country during Richard's absences, and gradually accumulating offices. Despite what the Chroniclers say, he was often at court and a fairly regular attender at councils and witnesser of charters. He does not seem to have suffered from his brothers' chronic ambition and in political terms was a moderate, essentially loyal to his nephew even if not always enthusiastic about his policies.
In 1388 he quarrelled violently in Parliament with his formidable brother Gloucester about the proposed execution of Sir Simon Burley, going so far as to challenge Gloucester to mortal combat over the issue. Strangely this episode is rarely mentioned by historians, perhaps because it might suggest that Edmund had some backbone, or that Richard II's enemies were not always supported by everyone who mattered.
Historians tend to be a bit sniffy about Edmund, generally rating him as incompetent, stupid, and generally useless - though I suspect he'd be better company on a pub crawl than most of them. If Edmund lived today he'd be driving a muddy Range Rover with dogs and shotguns in the back, and his feet would be clad in green wellies. He was much more interested in hunting than in politics, so the Chroniclers tell us. He also had an eye for the ladies, and according to Froissart was very much attached to his second wife, Joanne Holland - a mere 13 when she married him in 1393. (Different times, very different rules.)
Edmund was born in June 1341, the fifth (but fourth surviving) son of King Edward III and Queen Philippa. He started receiving grants of land as early as 1347, and his livelihood was gradually built up as he grew older, though he was never even a quarter as rich as big brother Gaunt. He took his fair share of fighting in the ongoing war against France, and he and Gaunt persuaded the Black Prince to halt the massacre of the people of Limoges - though it must be said that the main concern was to save French nobles. Edmund was given the Garter in 1361, and a year later was created Earl of Cambridge.
His first independent command was in Portugal 1381-82, and it turned out to be a complete fiasco. John of Gaunt never quite forgave him, and stated in his will that none of his money was to go to settling the accounts of the expedition.
York, like the rest of his family, was favoured by King Richard II, three times being left in charge of the country during Richard's absences, and gradually accumulating offices. Despite what the Chroniclers say, he was often at court and a fairly regular attender at councils and witnesser of charters. He does not seem to have suffered from his brothers' chronic ambition and in political terms was a moderate, essentially loyal to his nephew even if not always enthusiastic about his policies.
In 1388 he quarrelled violently in Parliament with his formidable brother Gloucester about the proposed execution of Sir Simon Burley, going so far as to challenge Gloucester to mortal combat over the issue. Strangely this episode is rarely mentioned by historians, perhaps because it might suggest that Edmund had some backbone, or that Richard II's enemies were not always supported by everyone who mattered.
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