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 John of Gaunt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John of Gaunt. Show all posts
Sunday, 7 February 2016
Saturday, 7 December 2013
The Beauforts
Those of you who get the Ricardian Bulletin will have seen a very interesting article from Stephen Lark in which he points out that it is possible John Beaufort, Earl of Somerset (first of that long and confusing line) was quite likely legally a Swynford, in view of the probability that he was conceived during Hugh Swynford's lifetime.
Of course, it is also quite likely that everyone (who mattered) knew he was biologically Gaunt's son, bearing in mind how the upper classes work.
The purpose of this post is not to debate Stephen's theory, but to consider the circumstances under which the Beauforts were legitimised. When Gaunt returned from his attempt to conquer Castile, he was well received by Richard II, who had learned in his absence that his earlier hostility to his uncle had been a political error. Gaunt strongly supported the King's peace policy with France, and in return Richard rewarded him generously, most notably with the extension of Lancashire's palatinate status to an hereditary one, and the creation of Gaunt as Duke of Aquitaine. (Had the Gascons not objected, Richard would have gone so far as to allow his uncle to hold this honour directly from Charles VI of France, but as it was he retained the suzerainty.)
The process of legitimisation of the Beauforts was a continuation of this royal favour. Moreover, Richard favoured the Beauforts themselves, possibly seeing in them a suitable counter weight to Henry Bolingbroke.
The point is that in 1396/97 no one dreamed that the Beauforts might ever get near the throne. Even if one assumes that Gaunt was de-facto heir (and this is a million miles from the true position) his son Bolingbroke had four sons of this own. So on the most generous estimate, forgetting the Mortimers altogether (and Henry's daughters), John Beaufort was seventh in line. It was not realistically going to happen. So the nominal status of his birth was really neither here nor there. At least not in 1396/7.
Taking this into account, there is perhaps a logical explanation for Henry IV's decision to exclude the Beauforts from the succession. They were suddenly a whole lot nearer. It would have helped, of course, if Henry had gone on to set out the succession after the heirs of his children - but he was not to know that they would prove to be so infertile. It probably never even crossed his mind that this was an issue.
(Since I wrote this, Stephen Lark has pointed out to me that he said in his article that John Beaufort was likely a biological as well as legal son of Hugh Swynford. My apologies for misunderstanding.)
Of course, it is also quite likely that everyone (who mattered) knew he was biologically Gaunt's son, bearing in mind how the upper classes work.
The purpose of this post is not to debate Stephen's theory, but to consider the circumstances under which the Beauforts were legitimised. When Gaunt returned from his attempt to conquer Castile, he was well received by Richard II, who had learned in his absence that his earlier hostility to his uncle had been a political error. Gaunt strongly supported the King's peace policy with France, and in return Richard rewarded him generously, most notably with the extension of Lancashire's palatinate status to an hereditary one, and the creation of Gaunt as Duke of Aquitaine. (Had the Gascons not objected, Richard would have gone so far as to allow his uncle to hold this honour directly from Charles VI of France, but as it was he retained the suzerainty.)
The process of legitimisation of the Beauforts was a continuation of this royal favour. Moreover, Richard favoured the Beauforts themselves, possibly seeing in them a suitable counter weight to Henry Bolingbroke.
The point is that in 1396/97 no one dreamed that the Beauforts might ever get near the throne. Even if one assumes that Gaunt was de-facto heir (and this is a million miles from the true position) his son Bolingbroke had four sons of this own. So on the most generous estimate, forgetting the Mortimers altogether (and Henry's daughters), John Beaufort was seventh in line. It was not realistically going to happen. So the nominal status of his birth was really neither here nor there. At least not in 1396/7.
Taking this into account, there is perhaps a logical explanation for Henry IV's decision to exclude the Beauforts from the succession. They were suddenly a whole lot nearer. It would have helped, of course, if Henry had gone on to set out the succession after the heirs of his children - but he was not to know that they would prove to be so infertile. It probably never even crossed his mind that this was an issue.
(Since I wrote this, Stephen Lark has pointed out to me that he said in his article that John Beaufort was likely a biological as well as legal son of Hugh Swynford. My apologies for misunderstanding.)
Monday, 25 August 2008
Henry IV's claim to the throne
If you read some of the Lancastrian accounts, Richard quite cheerfully abdicated; however even mainstream historians nowadays recognise this as propaganda, and it's pretty much accepted that he had to be 'persuaded', a process of wearing-down that took some weeks and apparently included such treats as visits from the Duke of York and his son, Edward. (If the account of this meeting is to be believed Richard was far from 'cheerful' and gave them a large piece of his mind.)
Richard tried to save the 'mystic' side of his kingship, which he claimed he could not resign if he wanted to, but eventually had to settle for the sole concession of being allowed to keep the lands he had earmarked as a source of funds for continual masses for his soul after his death.
In addition the Parliament was persuaded to depose him. This seems a tad superfluous given that he had supposedly abdicated 'willingly' but I suppose it gave the MPs something to discuss. A long list of his 'crimes' was drawn up, the overwhelming majority of which could have been offered as justifications to depose any medieval king. A commission was appointed to inform him of his deposition and withdraw homage.
Those of you who studied Chaucer at school may remember that Henry had a threefold claim to the throne - by conquest, inheritance and 'free' election. The greatest of these was inheritance.
You may think that he had definitely conquered England, and so he had, but if this had been accepted it would theoretically have put everyone's property into Henry's gift. Chief Justice Thirning pointed out this small detail to Bolingbroke, and said something in lawyer-speak that amounted to 'bog off'. Nor was there any election, and Henry wouldn't have wanted one either, as it would have implied he could be unelected.
So that left inheritance. You may recall from an earlier post that Edward III had issued an entail that supposedly gave the crown to John of Gaunt after Richard II, assuming the latter had no heirs. I just can't believe Gaunt did not mention this little gift to Bolingbroke one evening while they were roasting chestnuts together at Kenilworth. It's not the sort of thing that's likely to slip your mind, is it? The inheritance of a crown? People in families remember what Aunt Maud said in 1956 about which cousin should have her gold watch!
In the 1390s it was increasingly common to entail estates and titles on the heir male, and Bolingbroke was undoubtedly Richard II's heir male. If Henry had put this claim forward it would have been respectable, and at least arguable. The odd thing is he didn't. Instead (and apparently reading from a prepared statement like a modern politician) he claimed through his mother and her line back to Henry III.
It is usually said that this trumped the claims of Richard II and the Mortimers. Well so it does, if you really believe that Edmund, Earl of Lancaster was Edward I's elder brother. Otherwise it's pretty weak and (apart from implicitly discarding England's claim to France via Edward III's mother, Isabella) also recognises that the Crown can be inherited through a woman!
In other words, knowing what we know, Henry was declaring that the Mortimers were the rightful heirs to Richard II! It's incredible, but that's effectively what his claim implies.
Why on earth was Henry so chary of claiming through John of Gaunt? Well, some of you may know that back in the 1370s Gaunt had been slandered as a changeling - he was said to be the son of a Flemish butcher. It's an incredible tale, and let me be the first to say that I think it's total nonsense. However this tale was still remembered in the early 1400s. The equivalent, I suppose of the modern conspiracy theories, Diana killed by the Martians and so on. Is it just possible that Henry believed it himself? Surely not!
Yet it would explain why he came up with an hereditary claim that was a nonsense when he had a perfectly reasonable and viable alternative he could have used. It might also explain why he went to the trouble of explicitly excluding his Beaufort half-brothers and sister from the succession.
I apologise to the sane among you for the extreme speculation in this post. Alternative explanations for Henry's bizarre hereditary claim are welcome.
Richard tried to save the 'mystic' side of his kingship, which he claimed he could not resign if he wanted to, but eventually had to settle for the sole concession of being allowed to keep the lands he had earmarked as a source of funds for continual masses for his soul after his death.
In addition the Parliament was persuaded to depose him. This seems a tad superfluous given that he had supposedly abdicated 'willingly' but I suppose it gave the MPs something to discuss. A long list of his 'crimes' was drawn up, the overwhelming majority of which could have been offered as justifications to depose any medieval king. A commission was appointed to inform him of his deposition and withdraw homage.
Those of you who studied Chaucer at school may remember that Henry had a threefold claim to the throne - by conquest, inheritance and 'free' election. The greatest of these was inheritance.
You may think that he had definitely conquered England, and so he had, but if this had been accepted it would theoretically have put everyone's property into Henry's gift. Chief Justice Thirning pointed out this small detail to Bolingbroke, and said something in lawyer-speak that amounted to 'bog off'. Nor was there any election, and Henry wouldn't have wanted one either, as it would have implied he could be unelected.
So that left inheritance. You may recall from an earlier post that Edward III had issued an entail that supposedly gave the crown to John of Gaunt after Richard II, assuming the latter had no heirs. I just can't believe Gaunt did not mention this little gift to Bolingbroke one evening while they were roasting chestnuts together at Kenilworth. It's not the sort of thing that's likely to slip your mind, is it? The inheritance of a crown? People in families remember what Aunt Maud said in 1956 about which cousin should have her gold watch!
In the 1390s it was increasingly common to entail estates and titles on the heir male, and Bolingbroke was undoubtedly Richard II's heir male. If Henry had put this claim forward it would have been respectable, and at least arguable. The odd thing is he didn't. Instead (and apparently reading from a prepared statement like a modern politician) he claimed through his mother and her line back to Henry III.
It is usually said that this trumped the claims of Richard II and the Mortimers. Well so it does, if you really believe that Edmund, Earl of Lancaster was Edward I's elder brother. Otherwise it's pretty weak and (apart from implicitly discarding England's claim to France via Edward III's mother, Isabella) also recognises that the Crown can be inherited through a woman!
In other words, knowing what we know, Henry was declaring that the Mortimers were the rightful heirs to Richard II! It's incredible, but that's effectively what his claim implies.
Why on earth was Henry so chary of claiming through John of Gaunt? Well, some of you may know that back in the 1370s Gaunt had been slandered as a changeling - he was said to be the son of a Flemish butcher. It's an incredible tale, and let me be the first to say that I think it's total nonsense. However this tale was still remembered in the early 1400s. The equivalent, I suppose of the modern conspiracy theories, Diana killed by the Martians and so on. Is it just possible that Henry believed it himself? Surely not!
Yet it would explain why he came up with an hereditary claim that was a nonsense when he had a perfectly reasonable and viable alternative he could have used. It might also explain why he went to the trouble of explicitly excluding his Beaufort half-brothers and sister from the succession.
I apologise to the sane among you for the extreme speculation in this post. Alternative explanations for Henry's bizarre hereditary claim are welcome.
Sunday, 22 June 2008
The Big Fight That Wasn't
OK, I know anyone interested enough to read this stuff will be well aware that the Big Fight never took place - because that awkward King Richard II stopped it before the first round even started. By doing so he cheesed off almost everyone alive then and every historian since.
Richard was in a dilemma. If Thomas Mowbray had won, how would old Gaunt have reacted? Let's just imagine Henry Bolingbroke, defeated but not killed, going up for the chop. Would Gaunt have sat there and let it happen? Assuming he did, it wouldn't exactly do much for his relationship with the King, would it? Moreover, Mowbray had proved himself a bit of a loose cannon. Lord knows what he would have done - vindicated in this quarrel - for an encore.
What if Bolingbroke had won? Well, that would give a massive boost to an individual who in Richard's books was already far too popular. Plus it would open up the question of Thomas of Woodstock's death/murder/private execution, which Bolingbroke obviously saw as a Bad Thing. Whereas Richard undoubtedly saw it as a Good Thing, and wanted it forgotten. Preferably yesterday.
So Richard stopped the fight and banished them both, Mowbray for life, Bolingbroke for 10 years. In effect he decided they were both guilty, but Bolingbroke not quite as guilty as Mowbray. Lots of people, then and subsequently, thought this harsh on poor old Henry. In terms of justice they were probably right, but then again, medieval justice, especially in the area of high politics, was not noted for being fair and reasonable.
Bolingbroke was told that if his father died during his absence he would be allowed to inherit, and he was even given power to appoint attorneys to act for him in that event. It appears Gaunt was in reasonable health at this time, and his early death was not anticipated.
Richard was in a dilemma. If Thomas Mowbray had won, how would old Gaunt have reacted? Let's just imagine Henry Bolingbroke, defeated but not killed, going up for the chop. Would Gaunt have sat there and let it happen? Assuming he did, it wouldn't exactly do much for his relationship with the King, would it? Moreover, Mowbray had proved himself a bit of a loose cannon. Lord knows what he would have done - vindicated in this quarrel - for an encore.
What if Bolingbroke had won? Well, that would give a massive boost to an individual who in Richard's books was already far too popular. Plus it would open up the question of Thomas of Woodstock's death/murder/private execution, which Bolingbroke obviously saw as a Bad Thing. Whereas Richard undoubtedly saw it as a Good Thing, and wanted it forgotten. Preferably yesterday.
So Richard stopped the fight and banished them both, Mowbray for life, Bolingbroke for 10 years. In effect he decided they were both guilty, but Bolingbroke not quite as guilty as Mowbray. Lots of people, then and subsequently, thought this harsh on poor old Henry. In terms of justice they were probably right, but then again, medieval justice, especially in the area of high politics, was not noted for being fair and reasonable.
Bolingbroke was told that if his father died during his absence he would be allowed to inherit, and he was even given power to appoint attorneys to act for him in that event. It appears Gaunt was in reasonable health at this time, and his early death was not anticipated.
Monday, 16 June 2008
Mowbray v Bolingbroke (2)
Henry Bolingbroke, having probably talked the matter over with Daddy, broke his tale to the King on or about 20 January 1398, and repeated it to the Parliament that reassembled at Shrewsbury later that month. Richard's initial response was to strip Mowbray of his offices of marshal and admiral. In addition, although Bolingbroke was granted bail on various sureties (including one from his loving cousin, Edward of York) Mowbray was banged up in the Great Wardrobe in London. This suggests that at this point the King thought Henry was telling the truth.
On 23 February, Mowbray was brought before the Council at Oswestry (right up on the northern border of Wales) and denied everything. This led to both men having to attend a further meeting at Bristol in March, this time appearing before a Committee of Parliament. Given that neither of the parties was going to back down, and there were no witnesses, it was pretty inevitable the quarrel was going to have to be decided by combat, and this was what the Committee decided. The combat to be under the auspices of the Court of Chivalry - Edward of York, Duke of Aumale, Constable, and Thomas Holland, Duke of Surrey, Acting Marshal, presiding.
It was widely felt at the time time that the King should have reconciled the pair - this was apparently the advice of the French King to his new son-in-law, while John of Gaunt was allegedly angry about his son having to fight over 'a thing of naught.' All very well, but easier said than done. Far from coming to terms, Bolingbroke chose to add fresh charges. He said that Mowbray was behind all the treasons of the last eighteen years, as well as pinching funds from the Calais garrison and being responsible for the death of the late Duke of Gloucester.
Arrangements were made for a combat outside Coventry on 16 September, and both parties sent off for mail-order armour for the occasion. Edward of York, as Constable, had the job of organising the Big Fight. If only sponsorship had been invented in those days, they could have made a fortune!
On 23 February, Mowbray was brought before the Council at Oswestry (right up on the northern border of Wales) and denied everything. This led to both men having to attend a further meeting at Bristol in March, this time appearing before a Committee of Parliament. Given that neither of the parties was going to back down, and there were no witnesses, it was pretty inevitable the quarrel was going to have to be decided by combat, and this was what the Committee decided. The combat to be under the auspices of the Court of Chivalry - Edward of York, Duke of Aumale, Constable, and Thomas Holland, Duke of Surrey, Acting Marshal, presiding.
It was widely felt at the time time that the King should have reconciled the pair - this was apparently the advice of the French King to his new son-in-law, while John of Gaunt was allegedly angry about his son having to fight over 'a thing of naught.' All very well, but easier said than done. Far from coming to terms, Bolingbroke chose to add fresh charges. He said that Mowbray was behind all the treasons of the last eighteen years, as well as pinching funds from the Calais garrison and being responsible for the death of the late Duke of Gloucester.
Arrangements were made for a combat outside Coventry on 16 September, and both parties sent off for mail-order armour for the occasion. Edward of York, as Constable, had the job of organising the Big Fight. If only sponsorship had been invented in those days, they could have made a fortune!
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!
Wednesday, 19 March 2008
Richard II cuts Gaunt a new deal
Prior to his uncle's departure for Spain in 1386, there's no question that Richard II was deeply suspicious of John of Gaunt, not least because various people were in the habit of telling him that Gaunt had designs on his throne. They were probably both glad to see the back of each other!
The events of 1386-1388 certainly gave Richard cause to think again. When Gaunt returned in late 1389, he was warmly received and over the next few months was appointed to the council, had the palatine powers he enjoyed in Lancashire extended to his heirs, and was made Duke of Aquitaine. To the annoyance of some, King Richard often walked arm-in-arm with his uncle, and on occasions even wore his livery collar of esses - 'as a sign of the complete amity between us,' Richard explained, probably with a smug grin on his face.
Though the Appellants, particularly Gloucester, were brought in from the cold, there is little doubt that he had not forgiven them, and this shows in small ways. Gaunt's heir, Henry Bolingbroke, received very little from the King in the way of offices or appointments, in complete contrast to the lavish appointments rained on Edward, Earl of Rutland, his junior in both precedence and age.
The next few years were relatively free from discord, and even Richard's biggest critics struggle to find fault with his performance, though they generally give the credit to Gaunt and the Queen for their moderating influences. Of course, it was rather difficult for the opposition to make many waves as long as the King and Gaunt stuck together. Gaunt was enormously wealthy - by comparison Warwick the Kingmaker was a pauper - and, as part of his attempt to take over Spain, he had retained vast numbers of the English knighthood and gentry in his service. These factors were eventually to rebound on Richard to some tune, but for the time being, they were his life insurance.
As an aside, some of you may enjoy reading this review of Alison Weir's book on Katherine Swynford which comments on the private side of Gaunt's life.
Also there's another royal geneology site here for anyone still struggling with who is who. It's very comprehensive.
The events of 1386-1388 certainly gave Richard cause to think again. When Gaunt returned in late 1389, he was warmly received and over the next few months was appointed to the council, had the palatine powers he enjoyed in Lancashire extended to his heirs, and was made Duke of Aquitaine. To the annoyance of some, King Richard often walked arm-in-arm with his uncle, and on occasions even wore his livery collar of esses - 'as a sign of the complete amity between us,' Richard explained, probably with a smug grin on his face.
Though the Appellants, particularly Gloucester, were brought in from the cold, there is little doubt that he had not forgiven them, and this shows in small ways. Gaunt's heir, Henry Bolingbroke, received very little from the King in the way of offices or appointments, in complete contrast to the lavish appointments rained on Edward, Earl of Rutland, his junior in both precedence and age.
The next few years were relatively free from discord, and even Richard's biggest critics struggle to find fault with his performance, though they generally give the credit to Gaunt and the Queen for their moderating influences. Of course, it was rather difficult for the opposition to make many waves as long as the King and Gaunt stuck together. Gaunt was enormously wealthy - by comparison Warwick the Kingmaker was a pauper - and, as part of his attempt to take over Spain, he had retained vast numbers of the English knighthood and gentry in his service. These factors were eventually to rebound on Richard to some tune, but for the time being, they were his life insurance.
As an aside, some of you may enjoy reading this review of Alison Weir's book on Katherine Swynford which comments on the private side of Gaunt's life.
Also there's another royal geneology site here for anyone still struggling with who is who. It's very comprehensive.
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
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.
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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