In this excellent blog post Kathryn Warner refreshes our understanding of Constanza, Duchess of Lancaster, with her usual eye for false myth.
However, one particularly interesting fact arising from the post (in that it relates to the House of York) is that Pedro I, King of Castile, (Constanza's father) was six feet tall with light blond hair!
This will be a shock to those who mistakenly believe that all Spaniards are dark-haired. (They are not and never have been.) It is also an indication that Catherine of Aragon's light colouring may not have come purely from her Lancastrian ancestors, but also from her Spanish ones.
Moving lightly on, we should recall, of course, that Constanza's sister, Isabella, or Isabel, married Edmund of Langley, first Duke of York. So the House of York will have inherited these genes as well. (It seems likely that Langley himself was also blond or auburn-haired and he was almost 6ft tall himself.)
It seems strange then that it is often assumed that Edward IV inherited his (supposed) blond colouring and stature from the Nevilles. Especially as I have yet to see evidence that the Nevilles were particularly tall or particularly blond.
Showing posts with label Edmund of Langley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edmund of Langley. Show all posts
Sunday, 7 February 2016
Saturday, 28 March 2015
Henry I and the Lost Yorkist Princess
Philippa Langley has announced that she is now involved in the search for King Henry I on the site of Reading Abbey.
Reading Abbey was of course destroyed during the reign of that much-loved king, Henry VIII. A few ruins remain and the site is partly built over.
It is less well know that very close to the grave of Henry I is that of a Yorkist princess, indeed the very first Yorkist princess, Constance, daughter of Edmund of Langley and great-grandmother of Queen Anne Neville.
Constance should be easy to identify, as it is recorded that she is buried with her little great-granddaughter, Anne Beauchamp.
It is my hope that Constance of York and Anne Beauchamp will be discovered, and reburied in consecrated ground.
Reading Abbey was of course destroyed during the reign of that much-loved king, Henry VIII. A few ruins remain and the site is partly built over.
It is less well know that very close to the grave of Henry I is that of a Yorkist princess, indeed the very first Yorkist princess, Constance, daughter of Edmund of Langley and great-grandmother of Queen Anne Neville.
Constance should be easy to identify, as it is recorded that she is buried with her little great-granddaughter, Anne Beauchamp.
It is my hope that Constance of York and Anne Beauchamp will be discovered, and reburied in consecrated ground.
Sunday, 8 March 2009
Edmund of Langley and Edward of York - did they look like this?
I have found a couple of pictures on the web, and as they are said to be 'public domain' take the opportunity of reproducing them here. The one above is supposed to be Edmund of Langley, first Duke of York. Quite a handsome fellow, I think. Presumably this is where Constance got her good looks.
Needless to add, the second one is of Edward of York, at various times Earl of Rutland, Duke of Aumale, and second Duke of York. Would you buy a used destrier from this man?
I'd not bet above 1p (one new penny) that these images are authentic; at best they might be based on a lost original. More likely they came out of some Victorian's imagination. But I suppose they are better than nothing - just.
Tuesday, 7 October 2008
The House of York takes stock.
The events of January 1400 had a major impact on the York family, though on some more than others.
Edmund of Langley had established himself as a loyal supporter of Henry IV, though Richard's deposition had naturally cost him the Lancastrian properties and offices he'd been granted. He was in ill health, in particular he had severe skeletal problems, and after this point he seems to have retired from active public life.
Edward of York had lost his Aumale title, and was probably lucky not to have lost his life, being more culpable than most members of Richard's government. He suffered severe financial losses because of the resumption of his 1397 grants, but on the other hand Henry was already showing him limited favour (for example the grant of the Isle of Wight) and was to continue to employ him in various offices, albeit none as lofty as those he had enjoyed under Richard.
Richard of Conisbrough still had his annuities and his position was theoretically unchanged. He was not to know that Henry IV was soon to become effectively bankrupt and unable to honour annuities.
Constance of York had lost her husband and was notionally penniless because although Despenser had not been attainted (yet) everyone proceeded on the assumption that he had been. Widows of attainted men were not entitled to dower, and the jointure she had was in lands granted in 1397 and taken back. Fortunately for her, Henry IV was quite generous in providing for her, starting with the gift of £30 found on Despenser's body. It appears (if my understanding of the process is correct) that she kept submitting petitions, and as each one was granted went back and petitioned for a bit more. Forfeits of treason apart (most of Despenser's moveable property* and certain lands granted quickly away to others) she eventually ended up with the whole of the Despenser lands (bar her mother-in-law's dower) and the wardship of her son. She had to pay a rental (farm) for this, but that was par for the course, and she even had a protection written in that the wardship was not to be taken away if someone else offered to pay more! In the case of the manor of Bawtry (Yorkshire) she was in dispute with someone who had been granted it by the King, but it seems she won this fight as she certainly died possessed of Bawtry.
(*I should mention that some part of Despenser's property went missing, and the King sent out a commission to discover what had happened to it. Presumably it was either stolen or hidden away by well-wishers.)
The only widow the King treated with similar kindness was his sister, Elizabeth of Lancaster, and as I have mentioned before, it seems to me that Henry Bolingbroke had due respect for Plantagenet blood. He was very much less generous to the countesses of Salisbury and Wiltshire, for example, who received the next thing to damn all.
Edmund of Langley had established himself as a loyal supporter of Henry IV, though Richard's deposition had naturally cost him the Lancastrian properties and offices he'd been granted. He was in ill health, in particular he had severe skeletal problems, and after this point he seems to have retired from active public life.
Edward of York had lost his Aumale title, and was probably lucky not to have lost his life, being more culpable than most members of Richard's government. He suffered severe financial losses because of the resumption of his 1397 grants, but on the other hand Henry was already showing him limited favour (for example the grant of the Isle of Wight) and was to continue to employ him in various offices, albeit none as lofty as those he had enjoyed under Richard.
Richard of Conisbrough still had his annuities and his position was theoretically unchanged. He was not to know that Henry IV was soon to become effectively bankrupt and unable to honour annuities.
Constance of York had lost her husband and was notionally penniless because although Despenser had not been attainted (yet) everyone proceeded on the assumption that he had been. Widows of attainted men were not entitled to dower, and the jointure she had was in lands granted in 1397 and taken back. Fortunately for her, Henry IV was quite generous in providing for her, starting with the gift of £30 found on Despenser's body. It appears (if my understanding of the process is correct) that she kept submitting petitions, and as each one was granted went back and petitioned for a bit more. Forfeits of treason apart (most of Despenser's moveable property* and certain lands granted quickly away to others) she eventually ended up with the whole of the Despenser lands (bar her mother-in-law's dower) and the wardship of her son. She had to pay a rental (farm) for this, but that was par for the course, and she even had a protection written in that the wardship was not to be taken away if someone else offered to pay more! In the case of the manor of Bawtry (Yorkshire) she was in dispute with someone who had been granted it by the King, but it seems she won this fight as she certainly died possessed of Bawtry.
(*I should mention that some part of Despenser's property went missing, and the King sent out a commission to discover what had happened to it. Presumably it was either stolen or hidden away by well-wishers.)
The only widow the King treated with similar kindness was his sister, Elizabeth of Lancaster, and as I have mentioned before, it seems to me that Henry Bolingbroke had due respect for Plantagenet blood. He was very much less generous to the countesses of Salisbury and Wiltshire, for example, who received the next thing to damn all.
Wednesday, 30 July 2008
An Act of Terrorism
York's 'agreement' with Henry, however reluctantly it may have been made (or not), had one important effect. York was the legitimate Keeper of England and his adherence to Henry lent some shred of legality to the cause.
Together they moved on to Bristol, where the freedom-loving Henry announced that anyone who came out of the city in peace would be spared, but anyone who stayed within the walls and resisted would be killed. This led to a pretty prompt surrender of the city, with some citizens even climbing over the walls in their haste to survive. The castle followed suit. Within, among others, were the Earl of Wiltshire (William Scrope), Sir John Bushey and Sir Henry Green, all prominent councillors of King Richard. Bushey had acted as Speaker of the Commons.
The next day, these three were summarily executed; at best they might have had a drum-head trial before Northumberland and Westmorland, acting as constable and marshal. Either way it was unquestionably an illegal act, and one that was intended to strike terror into Henry's opponents.
Reams of print have been used up condemning Richard III for executing Rivers, Grey and Vaughan. However, Richard was at least established as Protector when he gave the order and had the pretext that they'd been plotting against him in that role. Strangely, it is rare to find a single word of criticism for Henry's outright murder of these three men. Lancastrian kings, it appears, can do no wrong.
Sir John Russell, the King's Master of Horse, would also have been executed, except that he lost his mind. Temporarily, it seems, but effectively, because he was spared. Russell had been briefly married to Thomas Despenser's very young niece, Margaret Hastings, but she must have died within a year or so, probably through the hazards of childbirth, as by 1399 he was remarried to a wealthy widow. He was also a personal enemy of the Earl of Warwick, whose retainer he had been before defecting to Richard. By the way, if you want to visit Sir John he's got a nice brass in Strensham Church, which is now in care of the Churches Conservation Trust.
Together they moved on to Bristol, where the freedom-loving Henry announced that anyone who came out of the city in peace would be spared, but anyone who stayed within the walls and resisted would be killed. This led to a pretty prompt surrender of the city, with some citizens even climbing over the walls in their haste to survive. The castle followed suit. Within, among others, were the Earl of Wiltshire (William Scrope), Sir John Bushey and Sir Henry Green, all prominent councillors of King Richard. Bushey had acted as Speaker of the Commons.
The next day, these three were summarily executed; at best they might have had a drum-head trial before Northumberland and Westmorland, acting as constable and marshal. Either way it was unquestionably an illegal act, and one that was intended to strike terror into Henry's opponents.
Reams of print have been used up condemning Richard III for executing Rivers, Grey and Vaughan. However, Richard was at least established as Protector when he gave the order and had the pretext that they'd been plotting against him in that role. Strangely, it is rare to find a single word of criticism for Henry's outright murder of these three men. Lancastrian kings, it appears, can do no wrong.
Sir John Russell, the King's Master of Horse, would also have been executed, except that he lost his mind. Temporarily, it seems, but effectively, because he was spared. Russell had been briefly married to Thomas Despenser's very young niece, Margaret Hastings, but she must have died within a year or so, probably through the hazards of childbirth, as by 1399 he was remarried to a wealthy widow. He was also a personal enemy of the Earl of Warwick, whose retainer he had been before defecting to Richard. By the way, if you want to visit Sir John he's got a nice brass in Strensham Church, which is now in care of the Churches Conservation Trust.
Tuesday, 29 July 2008
Edmund of Langley's Tactical Masterclass
About 20 July, York was in Bedford and Bolingbroke in Leicester. You may need a map at this point, but those two places are a fair few miles apart. Henry had visited most of his northern estates and recruited large numbers of followers, mainly his tenants and retainers. At Doncaster he had been joined by the earls of Northumberland and Westmorland, an unusual case of the Nevilles and the Percies being on the same side. It appears that there he swore a solemn oath that he was not interested in taking Richard's crown. This must have been comforting to Westmorland and Northumberland as there was plenty of time for things to go pear-shaped, and at least they would be able to swear blind that they had no intention of deposing the King. Northumberland was eventually to swear exactly that, as justification for taking up arms against Henry IV on three separate occasions!
In addition, according to the Chronicler Creton, Archbishop Arundel was preaching a crusade against Richard II and claiming he had a Papal Bull to that effect! He was lying through his teeth - indeed technically he was not even an archbishop, having been deprived by the Pope. Not that you will pick this last detail up from your average Richard II textbook...
The likelihood is that the Duke of York picked up news of Henry's strength, and decided he couldn't meet him in battle. Anyway, he moved to Oxford, where it appears certain people deserted him. These were the earl of Wiltshire, and Bushey and Green of the King's council. It's possible they left with his agreement as he seems to have decided to move Queen Isabelle from Windsor to Wallingford, the latter being considered safer, and someone would have had to organise this. To cut a long story short, these three ended up in Bristol Castle. Bristol being a port and all that they may have hoped, or even have expected, that Richard would land there.
York meanwhile moved on into Gloucestershire. Henry had picked up on his change of direction and tracked him, moving from Leicester to Coventry, Warwick and Evesham. (I told you you might need that map.) On 24 July Richard landed in Wales.
York sent some of his people into Wales to meet the King, but for whatever reason he didn't follow himself with what was left of his army. He had suffered desertions, morale was probably low, and Bolingbroke was now uncomfortably close. None of these reasons seem to be a particularly good argument for a further change of direction, this time towards Bristol. If there was a plan at this point it can only have been to hole up in Bristol with those who had already made their way there ahead of him.
Instead, Bolingbroke caught up with his uncle outside Berkeley Castle on 27 July. There was actually some fighting because Bishop Despenser and Sir William Elmham were captured and disarmed. However, in view of Henry's superior numbers there was no realistic alternative to capitulation, this taking place in Berkeley parish church. The Chronicler Walsingham says that York was reluctant to stand in the way of a nephew who had come for his rightful inheritance. This may be a rare case of Walsingham telling the truth. In any event, York had painted himself into a corner, and there was not really anything else he could have done at this point. (Suicidal charges were not in the family tradition at this time.)
In addition, according to the Chronicler Creton, Archbishop Arundel was preaching a crusade against Richard II and claiming he had a Papal Bull to that effect! He was lying through his teeth - indeed technically he was not even an archbishop, having been deprived by the Pope. Not that you will pick this last detail up from your average Richard II textbook...
The likelihood is that the Duke of York picked up news of Henry's strength, and decided he couldn't meet him in battle. Anyway, he moved to Oxford, where it appears certain people deserted him. These were the earl of Wiltshire, and Bushey and Green of the King's council. It's possible they left with his agreement as he seems to have decided to move Queen Isabelle from Windsor to Wallingford, the latter being considered safer, and someone would have had to organise this. To cut a long story short, these three ended up in Bristol Castle. Bristol being a port and all that they may have hoped, or even have expected, that Richard would land there.
York meanwhile moved on into Gloucestershire. Henry had picked up on his change of direction and tracked him, moving from Leicester to Coventry, Warwick and Evesham. (I told you you might need that map.) On 24 July Richard landed in Wales.
York sent some of his people into Wales to meet the King, but for whatever reason he didn't follow himself with what was left of his army. He had suffered desertions, morale was probably low, and Bolingbroke was now uncomfortably close. None of these reasons seem to be a particularly good argument for a further change of direction, this time towards Bristol. If there was a plan at this point it can only have been to hole up in Bristol with those who had already made their way there ahead of him.
Instead, Bolingbroke caught up with his uncle outside Berkeley Castle on 27 July. There was actually some fighting because Bishop Despenser and Sir William Elmham were captured and disarmed. However, in view of Henry's superior numbers there was no realistic alternative to capitulation, this taking place in Berkeley parish church. The Chronicler Walsingham says that York was reluctant to stand in the way of a nephew who had come for his rightful inheritance. This may be a rare case of Walsingham telling the truth. In any event, York had painted himself into a corner, and there was not really anything else he could have done at this point. (Suicidal charges were not in the family tradition at this time.)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch...
Edmund of Langley, Duke of York was acting as Keeper of England. His main qualification for this role was undoubtedly his rank, but he had performed the task on two other occasions without any apparent problem. Richard II has been faulted for choosing Edmund but that's surely hindsight speaking as he was the obvious choice, being the King's senior male relative.
As late as 20 June York's government paid a sum of £1586 to two of Bolingbroke's squires, towards the £2000 a year allowed to Henry in his exile. (That's an annual salary of more than £800,000 modern money. Some tyrant that Richard II, eh? Right up there with Marshal Stalin!)
Anyway, the point is that the English government's intelligence service, if it had one, failed miserably on this occasion. Henry's preparations to invade were well advanced by this time, and by 28 June news had clearly reached York as he wrote to various sheriffs asking them to bring armed men to a rendezvous at Ware. On 4 July, or thereabouts, Henry landed at Ravenspur, having also arranged an attack on Pevensey Castle as a diversion.
By this time York was writing to bishops, nobles, knights and esquires ordering a general mobilisation, and by 12 July some seventy knights and squires had responded with their retinues. Among them were king's retained knights such as Hugh Despenser (Thomas Despenser's cousin) and William Burcester (who was lined to the Despensers by marriage.) At least five sheriffs brought in their posses. Magnates to show up included the earls of Wiltshire and Suffolk and the Marquis of Dorset - John Beaufort, Henry's own half-brother. Several bishops turned out, including Henry Despenser, Bishop of Norwich, a man more noted for fighting than praying. The estimate for York's army is between 2000 and 3000. Small but potentially useful. There was plenty of money available to pay recruits. Richard's Exchequer at this time was full of cash, and indeed the King had gold stacked in barrels up at Holt Castle.
Edmund of Langley had a respectable war record in France, and his standing up to bullying by Gloucester in 1388 showed that he didn't lack courage in a cause. However, when it came to generalship he was no Robert E. Lee or Oliver Cromwell. More like Gypsy Rose Lee or Oliver Hardy. He marched his men north with the obvious intention of interdicting Henry's advance. Then he stopped, dithered, and marched west. Away from Henry, leaving London and Westminster wide open. The best interpretation is that he hoped to join Richard when the latter landed in Wales.
(Main source for this post is The Royal Household and The King's Affinity by Chris Given-Wilson. A specialist work, but very useful, and highly recommended to anyone interested in this era.)
As late as 20 June York's government paid a sum of £1586 to two of Bolingbroke's squires, towards the £2000 a year allowed to Henry in his exile. (That's an annual salary of more than £800,000 modern money. Some tyrant that Richard II, eh? Right up there with Marshal Stalin!)
Anyway, the point is that the English government's intelligence service, if it had one, failed miserably on this occasion. Henry's preparations to invade were well advanced by this time, and by 28 June news had clearly reached York as he wrote to various sheriffs asking them to bring armed men to a rendezvous at Ware. On 4 July, or thereabouts, Henry landed at Ravenspur, having also arranged an attack on Pevensey Castle as a diversion.
By this time York was writing to bishops, nobles, knights and esquires ordering a general mobilisation, and by 12 July some seventy knights and squires had responded with their retinues. Among them were king's retained knights such as Hugh Despenser (Thomas Despenser's cousin) and William Burcester (who was lined to the Despensers by marriage.) At least five sheriffs brought in their posses. Magnates to show up included the earls of Wiltshire and Suffolk and the Marquis of Dorset - John Beaufort, Henry's own half-brother. Several bishops turned out, including Henry Despenser, Bishop of Norwich, a man more noted for fighting than praying. The estimate for York's army is between 2000 and 3000. Small but potentially useful. There was plenty of money available to pay recruits. Richard's Exchequer at this time was full of cash, and indeed the King had gold stacked in barrels up at Holt Castle.
Edmund of Langley had a respectable war record in France, and his standing up to bullying by Gloucester in 1388 showed that he didn't lack courage in a cause. However, when it came to generalship he was no Robert E. Lee or Oliver Cromwell. More like Gypsy Rose Lee or Oliver Hardy. He marched his men north with the obvious intention of interdicting Henry's advance. Then he stopped, dithered, and marched west. Away from Henry, leaving London and Westminster wide open. The best interpretation is that he hoped to join Richard when the latter landed in Wales.
(Main source for this post is The Royal Household and The King's Affinity by Chris Given-Wilson. A specialist work, but very useful, and highly recommended to anyone interested in this era.)
Thursday, 24 July 2008
Changing Times and All That
I've not managed to post much in July - sorry about that, no particular excuse, just been feeling even more idle than usual. I've been doing a lot of thinking about the Richard III novel, and hope to make some actual progress soon. I've decided to strip the thing down to the bare essentials and ship some of my spare characters off to the Norfolk Novel that I've also got on the stocks. (To be honest I've got an awful lot on the stocks, and very little I could launch tomorrow.)
Anyway, back to the York family circa 1398.
It's highly likely that Richard II expected John of Gaunt to live for several years. Gaunt was only in his fifties, not the near-skeleton of Shakesperean myth. OK, I don't suppose he got too many offers of life insurance, but there's no reason to think he was in particular ill-health. Richard allowed Bolingbroke to appoint proctors to receive his inheritance if Gaunt were to die during the time of his son's banishment.
When Gaunt did die, in February 1399, it threw onto Richard II's plate one of those awful quandries that every government has to face at some time or another. He could either let Bolingbroke inherit (in which case he would have a dangerously over-mighty subject coming home in a few years) or he could block the inheritance, grab the Lancastrian estates and resources, and, with a bit of luck, keep Bolingbroke permanently excluded.
Richard jumped for the latter option, and it was to prove fatal. However, it's worth noting that the alternative might have proved equally fatal in the long run.
From the point of view of the York family, it seems that at this time they were suddenly shot up in the pecking order to heirs to the throne. Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, had died in Ireland, out of royal favour and apparently in danger of arrest; his heir was a child. Bolingbroke was crossed off the list. Had Richard II been run over by a horse that weekend, it appears likely Edmund of Langley would have succeeded. Or maybe Edward of York, given that Richard had apparently told Bagot that Edward was the man for the job!
Both Edmund of Langley and his elder son were among those who received grants of Lancastrian lands and offices. It's worth mentioning though that the grants were not absolute but had a saving clause - until Henry, Duke of Lancaster shall sue for the same. Which is a bit odd, if Richard envisaged outright confiscation.
Anyway, back to the York family circa 1398.
It's highly likely that Richard II expected John of Gaunt to live for several years. Gaunt was only in his fifties, not the near-skeleton of Shakesperean myth. OK, I don't suppose he got too many offers of life insurance, but there's no reason to think he was in particular ill-health. Richard allowed Bolingbroke to appoint proctors to receive his inheritance if Gaunt were to die during the time of his son's banishment.
When Gaunt did die, in February 1399, it threw onto Richard II's plate one of those awful quandries that every government has to face at some time or another. He could either let Bolingbroke inherit (in which case he would have a dangerously over-mighty subject coming home in a few years) or he could block the inheritance, grab the Lancastrian estates and resources, and, with a bit of luck, keep Bolingbroke permanently excluded.
Richard jumped for the latter option, and it was to prove fatal. However, it's worth noting that the alternative might have proved equally fatal in the long run.
From the point of view of the York family, it seems that at this time they were suddenly shot up in the pecking order to heirs to the throne. Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, had died in Ireland, out of royal favour and apparently in danger of arrest; his heir was a child. Bolingbroke was crossed off the list. Had Richard II been run over by a horse that weekend, it appears likely Edmund of Langley would have succeeded. Or maybe Edward of York, given that Richard had apparently told Bagot that Edward was the man for the job!
Both Edmund of Langley and his elder son were among those who received grants of Lancastrian lands and offices. It's worth mentioning though that the grants were not absolute but had a saving clause - until Henry, Duke of Lancaster shall sue for the same. Which is a bit odd, if Richard envisaged outright confiscation.
Wednesday, 26 March 2008
Constance of York - the early years
Some of you may be wondering what all this stuff about Richard II and his quarrels has to do with the House of York. Well, they were there, on Richard's side up until 1399 when all hell was to break loose. I'll write shortly about Edward of York Earl of Rutland and his exploits in the removal of Uncle Gloucester and the rest, but for the present I want to turn to his sister, Constance. As you may know, I found her interesting enough to write a novel about her, and it's time I said something. This post at least will contain no spoilers.
Constance was born before 1378, probably in the range 1374-76. The first mention of her is on 16th April 1378, when her father was granted the marriage of Edward, son and heir of Edward, late Lord Le Despenser, for her benefit. Edmund of Langley was doing his duty as a father here, providing for her future in what was practically the only way available. Young Edward Despenser must have died soon after this and his next (and only surviving) brother, Thomas, was substituted. Thomas and Constance were formally married before 7th November 1379 as John of Gaunt's Register records a gift to them of a silver-gilt cup and ewer on a stand, worth £22-0-4. (Getting on for the equivalent of nine grand today, and certainly better than a toast rack from Marks and Spencer.)
Thomas Despenser was barely 6 years old. He was descended from the famous (or is it infamous?) Hugh the Younger (his great-grandfather) and Eleanor de Clare, and was thus a (relatively remote) cousin of Constance, both being descended from King Edward I by different routes. He was (once he got hold of his lands) among the top dozen or so richest nobles in the kingdom, despite his relatively unimpressive title, Lord Despenser of Glamorgan and Morgannwg. (Which means, as those who know their Welsh will be aware, Lord of Glamorgan and Glamorgan.)
The Despenser family had spent much of the 14th century recovering from the disaster that Roger Mortimer and Queen Isabella had inflicted upon them. Thomas's father, and his great uncle before him, had served in King Edward III's wars, and their service was much appreciated and rewarded.
Edward Despenser is little-known today, except as the 'kneeling knight' of Tewkesbury Abbey, but in his day his reputation was up there with the league leaders, and he was a founder-member of the Garter. They had land in many counties of England, with a nice concentration in Gloucestershire and Worcestershire, but the jewel in their crown was undoubtedly Glamorgan, at this time (prior to the Glyndwr rising) at the peak of its profitability.
Thomas's mother, Elizabeth de Burghersh, was the daughter of another famous knight and the heiress to considerable lands in her own right. Edmund of Langley had undoubtedly done well for his girl, given that he would almost certainly have struggled to produce a dowry capable of buying such a match in the open market. What the Despensers thought about it we cannot know, but if they were in a positive frame of mind they may have thought that marriage of their head of family to a granddaughter of King Edward III pretty well completed the rehabilitation process, and banished the spectre of Hugh the Younger hanging from his 50 foot gallows.
In January 1384 Constance was granted 80 marks a year (round about £21K modern money) from the Despenser lands towards her maintenance. Elizabeth de Burghersh (not Edmund of Langley) had Thomas's wardship, but she had to pay a fee to the Crown out of this, and I believe this grant would have been deducted from that fee. It suggests that Constance was still living at home with her parents - or at least under their roof - but it's not definite proof, and it could equally be that the cash just dropped into Langley's pocket for his general expenses. (He received another sum from the Despenser revenues in his own right, so altogether it was a nice little earner, and probably helped keep him in greyhounds.)
The next event in Constance's life that we know about was in 1386 when she was appointed, in her own right, to the Order of the Garter. (As an aside, it's interesting that Richard II appointed more women to the Garter than all the other medieval sovereigns put together - and while we're at it we can mention that that nice fellow Henry VIII stopped the practice altogether.) Constance was certainly one of the youngest persons ever appointed, and she became a Dame of the Order before her big brother Edward was made a Knight of it. Of course, the places for knights were always strictly limited, but King Richard seems to have appointed as many women as he liked, including several widows of distinguished soldiers. The honour was probably a sop to Edmund of Langley at a time when the King needed all the friends he could muster, but I like to think that Richard had a fondness for Constance as well.
I'm afraid I can't tell you when the marriage between Constance and Thomas was consummated. Or whether he courted her or just dived in. What I can say is that he was away quite a lot. With the King to Scotland in 1385 (probably as a page, given his age.) Then with Arundel on a naval expedition against the French in 1388, during which Arundel knighted him. Then to Prussia in 1391, on one of the 'crusades' against the Lithuanians that were so fashionable for young knights in those days - roughly the 14th century version of the Grand Tour. He was granted full possession of his lands in March 1394, just in time to accompany the King on that very rare thing - a successful English campaign in Ireland.
There is some debate about how many children Thomas and Constance had, one internet source giving them quite a castle full. However the Tewkesbury Chronicle sticks at three, and the first with a definite date of birth was Richard Despenser, born 30th November 1396. Which means that Constance missed out on the King's wedding to Isabelle of France!
Thomas Despenser had earned the King's favour, and was one of those involved in the arrest and prosecution of Gloucester, Arundel and Warwick. He received a share of their lands, which, interestingly, were granted to him and Constance in jointure. This was not the case for anyone else and suggests that either Thomas or (less probably) King Richard, wanted to make sure that Constance would be well-provided for in the event of Despenser's death.
On 29th September 1397 Thomas was created Earl of Gloucester and Constance became a Countess. The future must have looked very rosy indeed!
Constance was born before 1378, probably in the range 1374-76. The first mention of her is on 16th April 1378, when her father was granted the marriage of Edward, son and heir of Edward, late Lord Le Despenser, for her benefit. Edmund of Langley was doing his duty as a father here, providing for her future in what was practically the only way available. Young Edward Despenser must have died soon after this and his next (and only surviving) brother, Thomas, was substituted. Thomas and Constance were formally married before 7th November 1379 as John of Gaunt's Register records a gift to them of a silver-gilt cup and ewer on a stand, worth £22-0-4. (Getting on for the equivalent of nine grand today, and certainly better than a toast rack from Marks and Spencer.)
Thomas Despenser was barely 6 years old. He was descended from the famous (or is it infamous?) Hugh the Younger (his great-grandfather) and Eleanor de Clare, and was thus a (relatively remote) cousin of Constance, both being descended from King Edward I by different routes. He was (once he got hold of his lands) among the top dozen or so richest nobles in the kingdom, despite his relatively unimpressive title, Lord Despenser of Glamorgan and Morgannwg. (Which means, as those who know their Welsh will be aware, Lord of Glamorgan and Glamorgan.)
The Despenser family had spent much of the 14th century recovering from the disaster that Roger Mortimer and Queen Isabella had inflicted upon them. Thomas's father, and his great uncle before him, had served in King Edward III's wars, and their service was much appreciated and rewarded.
Edward Despenser is little-known today, except as the 'kneeling knight' of Tewkesbury Abbey, but in his day his reputation was up there with the league leaders, and he was a founder-member of the Garter. They had land in many counties of England, with a nice concentration in Gloucestershire and Worcestershire, but the jewel in their crown was undoubtedly Glamorgan, at this time (prior to the Glyndwr rising) at the peak of its profitability.
Thomas's mother, Elizabeth de Burghersh, was the daughter of another famous knight and the heiress to considerable lands in her own right. Edmund of Langley had undoubtedly done well for his girl, given that he would almost certainly have struggled to produce a dowry capable of buying such a match in the open market. What the Despensers thought about it we cannot know, but if they were in a positive frame of mind they may have thought that marriage of their head of family to a granddaughter of King Edward III pretty well completed the rehabilitation process, and banished the spectre of Hugh the Younger hanging from his 50 foot gallows.
In January 1384 Constance was granted 80 marks a year (round about £21K modern money) from the Despenser lands towards her maintenance. Elizabeth de Burghersh (not Edmund of Langley) had Thomas's wardship, but she had to pay a fee to the Crown out of this, and I believe this grant would have been deducted from that fee. It suggests that Constance was still living at home with her parents - or at least under their roof - but it's not definite proof, and it could equally be that the cash just dropped into Langley's pocket for his general expenses. (He received another sum from the Despenser revenues in his own right, so altogether it was a nice little earner, and probably helped keep him in greyhounds.)
The next event in Constance's life that we know about was in 1386 when she was appointed, in her own right, to the Order of the Garter. (As an aside, it's interesting that Richard II appointed more women to the Garter than all the other medieval sovereigns put together - and while we're at it we can mention that that nice fellow Henry VIII stopped the practice altogether.) Constance was certainly one of the youngest persons ever appointed, and she became a Dame of the Order before her big brother Edward was made a Knight of it. Of course, the places for knights were always strictly limited, but King Richard seems to have appointed as many women as he liked, including several widows of distinguished soldiers. The honour was probably a sop to Edmund of Langley at a time when the King needed all the friends he could muster, but I like to think that Richard had a fondness for Constance as well.
I'm afraid I can't tell you when the marriage between Constance and Thomas was consummated. Or whether he courted her or just dived in. What I can say is that he was away quite a lot. With the King to Scotland in 1385 (probably as a page, given his age.) Then with Arundel on a naval expedition against the French in 1388, during which Arundel knighted him. Then to Prussia in 1391, on one of the 'crusades' against the Lithuanians that were so fashionable for young knights in those days - roughly the 14th century version of the Grand Tour. He was granted full possession of his lands in March 1394, just in time to accompany the King on that very rare thing - a successful English campaign in Ireland.
There is some debate about how many children Thomas and Constance had, one internet source giving them quite a castle full. However the Tewkesbury Chronicle sticks at three, and the first with a definite date of birth was Richard Despenser, born 30th November 1396. Which means that Constance missed out on the King's wedding to Isabelle of France!
Thomas Despenser had earned the King's favour, and was one of those involved in the arrest and prosecution of Gloucester, Arundel and Warwick. He received a share of their lands, which, interestingly, were granted to him and Constance in jointure. This was not the case for anyone else and suggests that either Thomas or (less probably) King Richard, wanted to make sure that Constance would be well-provided for in the event of Despenser's death.
On 29th September 1397 Thomas was created Earl of Gloucester and Constance became a Countess. The future must have looked very rosy indeed!
Friday, 7 March 2008
Edward of York - the early years
Edward, destined to be the second Duke of York, was probably born in 1373. (As usual with medievals we don't know the exact date.) He's sometimes known to historians as Edward of Norwich, although there's absolutely no indication that he was born there or had any connection with it - I only mention this to avoid confusion.
Now I must admit - I like Edward. Despite the fact that he was one of the most double-dealing rogues in English history, a man who makes Thomas, Lord Stanley look like a model of consistency and loyal devotion. There's something about him - his sheer bloody cheek for one thing. Despite holding the medieval equivalent of the Guiness Book of Records title for number of times accused of treason without actually being executed he was never fazed. He just keeps popping up again, like one of those little plastic men that live in the bottom of a birdcage. There was no vat of crap, however deep, from which he could not emerge, grinning and smelling of roses.
He was knighted at the coronation of his cousin, Richard II, in 1377. Not bad going that, four years old and already a knight. In 1381 he was married to Beatriz of Portugal, and if his father had not made such a mess of the Portuguese expedition Edward might have become King of Portugal, because Beatriz was her father's heiress. Instead her father had second thoughts and married her to the son of his enemy, the King of Castile, and paid to send Edmund of Langley, his wife, son, and attendant unruly army back home. Collapse of England's Iberian policy - no wonder John of Gaunt was far from a happy bunny.
Back home Edward was created a Knight of the Garter in 1387 and in 1390 was made Earl of Rutland. At this point he is already becoming a close ally of his cousin the King, and by late 1391 he was Admiral of England - one of the 'big' offices of state. Much more was to come.
Now I must admit - I like Edward. Despite the fact that he was one of the most double-dealing rogues in English history, a man who makes Thomas, Lord Stanley look like a model of consistency and loyal devotion. There's something about him - his sheer bloody cheek for one thing. Despite holding the medieval equivalent of the Guiness Book of Records title for number of times accused of treason without actually being executed he was never fazed. He just keeps popping up again, like one of those little plastic men that live in the bottom of a birdcage. There was no vat of crap, however deep, from which he could not emerge, grinning and smelling of roses.
He was knighted at the coronation of his cousin, Richard II, in 1377. Not bad going that, four years old and already a knight. In 1381 he was married to Beatriz of Portugal, and if his father had not made such a mess of the Portuguese expedition Edward might have become King of Portugal, because Beatriz was her father's heiress. Instead her father had second thoughts and married her to the son of his enemy, the King of Castile, and paid to send Edmund of Langley, his wife, son, and attendant unruly army back home. Collapse of England's Iberian policy - no wonder John of Gaunt was far from a happy bunny.
Back home Edward was created a Knight of the Garter in 1387 and in 1390 was made Earl of Rutland. At this point he is already becoming a close ally of his cousin the King, and by late 1391 he was Admiral of England - one of the 'big' offices of state. Much more was to come.
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.
Wednesday, 5 March 2008
Isabel of Castile, Duchess of York
Why did Edmund marry her? Well, it was undoubtedly part of big brother John of Gaunt's plan to secure the throne of Castile for himself. Gaunt married Isabel's elder sister, Constance, or Constanza. The two young women were the daughters and heirs of the deposed Castilian king, Pedro 'the Cruel' who had been murdered by his illegitimate half-brother. Said half-brother then nicked the throne.
From Edmund's point of view this was not a particularly good deal. He and his wife were required to sign over their rights to Castile to John of Gaunt and Constanza - I hope for a consideration. Apart from that Isabel hadn't much but the clothes she stood up in and a few jewels.
Isabel is buried at King's Langley - when her tomb was investigated by curious Victorians in the 19th century she was found to be quite a small lady, estimated 4' 8" in height. If the Chronicles are to believed she - er - liked a good time. It has been suggested that the Chroniclers - churchmen to a person - may have been hostile to her because she favoured the Lollards. This seems improbable, although she did have at least one known Lollard as an executor.
(The Lollards, for anyone who doesn't know, were a sort of early Protestant, though the range of opinions represented by the term is very wide. Orthodox clerics hated them with a passion.)
Isabel had three children, Edward, Constance and Richard, of whom more anon. She is also supposed to have had a lover, King Richard's half-brother, Sir John Holland, Earl of Huntingdon.
If true, this says little for her taste in men, as he was a distinctly nasty piece of work, involved in at least two murders.
When Isabel died in 1393 she left her jewels to King Richard, with a request that he provide an annuity for her younger son, Richard. This the King did, and on a relatively generous basis compared to the value of the bequest. Richard of Conisbrough (often known as Richard of York in his own time, but better known by his birthplace because of the danger of mixing him up with his more famous son) never had any land of his own, and this annuity remained his principal source of income. In royal family terms, he was a pauper.
From Edmund's point of view this was not a particularly good deal. He and his wife were required to sign over their rights to Castile to John of Gaunt and Constanza - I hope for a consideration. Apart from that Isabel hadn't much but the clothes she stood up in and a few jewels.
Isabel is buried at King's Langley - when her tomb was investigated by curious Victorians in the 19th century she was found to be quite a small lady, estimated 4' 8" in height. If the Chronicles are to believed she - er - liked a good time. It has been suggested that the Chroniclers - churchmen to a person - may have been hostile to her because she favoured the Lollards. This seems improbable, although she did have at least one known Lollard as an executor.
(The Lollards, for anyone who doesn't know, were a sort of early Protestant, though the range of opinions represented by the term is very wide. Orthodox clerics hated them with a passion.)
Isabel had three children, Edward, Constance and Richard, of whom more anon. She is also supposed to have had a lover, King Richard's half-brother, Sir John Holland, Earl of Huntingdon.
If true, this says little for her taste in men, as he was a distinctly nasty piece of work, involved in at least two murders.
When Isabel died in 1393 she left her jewels to King Richard, with a request that he provide an annuity for her younger son, Richard. This the King did, and on a relatively generous basis compared to the value of the bequest. Richard of Conisbrough (often known as Richard of York in his own time, but better known by his birthplace because of the danger of mixing him up with his more famous son) never had any land of his own, and this annuity remained his principal source of income. In royal family terms, he was a pauper.
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