Authors: Lisa Hilton
Despite the shadows of Edward’s infidelity and the bitterness of Clarence’s death, it appeared that by 1482 the royal couple had finally overcome the horrors and sufferings of years of war.
The Croyland Chronicle
presents an idyllic picture of the family at Christmas that year: ‘You might have seen, in those days, the royal court presenting no other appearance than such as fully befits a most mighty kingdom, filled with riches, boasting of the sweet and beautiful children, the issue of [Edward’s] marriage with Queen Elizabeth.’ As ever for Elizabeth, though, peace and security proved to be short-lived.
CHAPTER 18
ANNE NEVILLE
‘I’ll have her, but I will not keep her long …’
D
espite being born to great wealth and married to even greater estate, Anne Neville appears until 1472 as a victim. Her marriage had annealed one of the most implausible alliances in English history, but its brokers had failed in their purpose and she found herself a widow having barely been a wife, a princess without a title and an heiress without an estate. But after eight months as the reluctant ward of the Duke of Clarence, Anne took an extraordinary step. She arranged her own marriage and moreover, if Hall’s account of the aftermath of Tewkesbury is credited, she chose for her second husband the man who had murdered her first.
The motivation behind Anne’s strike for independence lay in her unusual legal position. As a widow, she enjoyed the status of a
femme sole
with the legal right to conduct her own affairs, but whatever hopes she may have had of regaining her inheritance were thwarted. Any prospective dower settlement she could have expected as Dowager Princess of Wales was now void, but she was entitled to a half share of her father’s Neville lands. The other half was held by Clarence through his wife, Anne’s sister Isabel, and now the couple stalled Anne’s attempts to assert her rights. She wrote to Queen Elizabeth, the Duchess of York, Princess Elizabeth and Jacquetta, Duchess of Bedford to try to persuade them to intercede with her with the King, who refused to allow her safe conduct to make her case in court. They did nothing. Isabel was now a part of the royal family, with Clarence’s treachery officially forgotten — for the moment, at least — and Anne, despite the fact that she had been pardoned, excluded from favour. The Countess of Warwick did little to help her daughter, and indeed there was little she could do, as the Warwick earldom had been attaindered. If Anne could marry, she would have a champion to uphold her rights, but she needed a partner powerful enough to counter
Clarence’s influence. The natural choice was Edward IV’s second brother, Richard of Gloucester.
It has been suggested that Anne and Richard had actually fallen in love when Richard was a member of the Earl of Warwick’s household in his teens, yet though they knew each other well, having grown up together, their marriage was one of mutual convenience, a convenience Anne was the first to perceive. The Clarences were opposed to Anne making any marriage, as that would mean they would have to give up their claim to her half of the inheritance, but when, after a Christmas visit by Richard, they suspected Anne’s precise intentions, they were furious. The Milanese ambassador confirmed the gossip that Clarence opposed a match because ‘his brother King Edward had promised him Warwick’s country, he did not want [Gloucester] to have it by reason of marriage with the Earl’s second daughter’.
1
The
Croyland Chronicle
is responsible for the famous story that the Clarences disguised Anne as a kitchen maid in their London home at Coldharbour to prevent Richard from carrying her off, and though the type of costume is unlikely, the idea that they attempted to hide her is deemed plausible. Somehow, Anne got the better of them and between December 1471, when Richard arrived in London, and February 1472, when her presence is recorded there, she defiantly fled the Clarences’ house and took sanctuary at St Martin’s, near St Paul’s Cathedral.
Anne’s escape was a courageous, if not strictly romantic act, but its object may seem psychologically repugnant to a modern mind. Leaving aside the rather tiresome matter of Richard III’s true appearance (he may have been born with teeth but he was probably not hunchbacked, let alone the deformed creeping gargoyle of hammier Shakespearean representation), how could Anne have countenanced marriage to the man who was responsible, perhaps personally, for her husband’s death? This is simply the wrong question. Rather, how could Anne have chosen to ignore the fact that marriage to Richard was deeply sinful? Richard and Anne were both distantly related to Prince Edward, they were first cousins once removed and brother and sister-in-law. The papal degrees were often treated as no more than tedious necessities requiring dispensation, but in this instance Anne’s relationship with her intended husband was considered genuinely incestuous. To anyone with a conscience in the late fifteenth century, it was just plain wrong. But Anne was clearly desperate, as was borne out by the fact that she was prepared to accept no dower when the marriage and inheritance settlement was finalised in 1474.
Anne’s wedding to Richard was simple enough for it to have left no record, but it probably took place in the spring of 1472, since in April that
year a dispensation granting them licence in the third and fourth degrees of kinship was granted (though this was not in itself sufficient to validate the marriage). Anne had been living under Richard’s protection since leaving sanctuary after Clarence grudgingly consented to the match. The King attempted to reconcile the feuding brothers by declaring that they could divide the whole of the Warwick inheritance, to the disadvantage of the Countess, and acknowledged the inadequate dispensation by giving Richard his share for life in the event that he and Anne were obliged to divorce, which anticipatory claim confirms that his interests in the enterprise had little to do with affection for Anne. If the correct dispensation were sought and denied, it would also mean that any children ran the risk of being declared illegitimate, but once again Anne was prepared to face this possibility. Altogether, it was an ugly marriage, even for a time when marriage was essentially a matter of business. Anne colluded with her husband in cheating her mother of her rights, and entered knowingly into a marriage that risked disgraceful dissolution. But it was also a successful union, in that both parties got what they wanted, even if that was not necessarily one another.
As well as wealth, Anne brought Richard a dowry that would prove essential in his eventual rise to power, the Neville affinity of the northern march. Anne’s great-grandfather, Ralph, Earl of Westmoreland, had married as his second wife a daughter of John of Gaunt by Katherine Swynford, Joan Beaufort. His elder son by his royal bride, Anne’s grandfather Richard, Earl of Salisbury, came to hold the wardenship of the west march against the Scots and, along with their rivals, the Percies, the Nevilles governed what was almost a mini-kingdom on the northern border. The power struggles of the two great families had played an influential part in the turmoil leading to the deposition of Henry VI. Now, with Warwick gone, Richard claimed the Earl’s northern allegiances as his own. Recognising the potency of the Neville association, Edward made Richard his regent in the north from 1472, formalising his position with an appointment to lieutenant general in 1480. The couple, especially Anne, spent much of their time during the first decade of their marriage at Middleham, in modern-day Wensleydale, and though the eleventh-century castle there is a ruin, it remains impressive even today. It was at Middleham (according to local lore, in the south-west tower), that their son Edward was born in the mid-1470s.
Records of Anne’s activities until 1483 are extremely scant. She represented her husband at York during his absence in France in 1475—6, and it may be assumed she did so on other occasions, just as it may be
assumed she conducted her household in the typical, unexceptional manner of other great ladies of her class. The nature of her relationship with Queen Elizabeth is unknown, but their stories entwine again in the summer of 1483. Edward IV fell sick at the end of March that year, and on 9 April he died at Westminster. Anne did not arrive in London until 5 June. How much she knew of her husband’s plans at this point is uncertain, but the fact that she did not make this journey sooner suggests she was aware that the planned coronation of Prince Edward was not going to take place in May, as scheduled. Indeed, it was just a few weeks later that Anne found herself once again in the position of prospective Queen of England.
With hindsight, the main protagonists of the rapid events following Edward IV’s death have been too easily sorted into the categories of heroes and villains. Anti-Richard writers have him immediately plotting to seize the throne, while his apologists have him battling an attempted coup by the Queen’s relations, the Woodvilles. With regard to Elizabeth herself, we may imagine first that she was still reeling from the shock of her husband’s death, for though Edward was no longer the beautiful man she had married, his tall figure now marred by a bulging stomach and his features coarsened through dissipation, he had still been only forty years old, and no one had expected him to die so suddenly. Secondly, her entirely reasonable aim was to have her son crowned and the succession smoothly assured. It was perhaps unwise of her to depend so closely on the counsel of her supporters, her nearest relatives, but it is nevertheless hardly surprising that she did.
Edward’s extant will, made in 1475, named Elizabeth ‘his dearest and most entirely beloved wife’, as his chief executor and guardian of his children, but a subsequent codicil named Richard of Gloucester as lord protector. (In fact, neither instruction was binding, as legally only the council and Parliament could decide on the governance of the realm in the minority of the King.) In the absence of the amended will, it has been suggested that Elizabeth was excluded from her role as executor, as is supposedly confirmed by the fact that she did not attend an executors’ meeting on 7 May. Her absence was due to the very good reason that she was in Westminster Sanctuary, so nothing can be proved either way. It has also been mooted that Elizabeth personally worked to prevent Richard of Gloucester from taking up his position as protector. According to Alison Weir, ‘The Woodvilles were firmly entrenched and meant to stay that way, having determined to resist all attempts to make Gloucester protector.
Their intention was to ignore Edward IV’s will and use Edward V as a puppet.’
2
The Woodvilles certainly knew that their power was threatened, but until later in the month they had no reason to fear a direct attack from Richard.
The Croyland Chronicle
emphasises that when the council met after the funeral, the desire to see Edward V crowned was unanimous, but the company was divided as to the most appropriate arrangements for his guardianship, and that of the realm, until he reached his majority. Prominent among the anti-Woodville contingent was Lord Hastings.
Croyland
suggests that Hastings feared the Woodvilles because ‘if power slipped into the grasp of the Queen’s relatives they would avenge the injuries they claimed he had done them’. If Edward were crowned quickly, the role of protector could be dispensed with and the Woodvilles could then rule through the King.
Croyland
adds that the situation was saved by the ‘benevolence’ of the Queen, who seems to have grasped that this was no time for personal antagonisms. Hastings was supported by the prominent Cheshire magnate Lord Stanley, the third husband of Margaret Beaufort, but the large pro-Woodville faction, as well as neutral figures such as the Archbishop of Canterbury, overruled the ‘wiser’ element and the coronation was fixed for 4 May.
Hastings had, however, been able to effect one modification to the Woodville plans, which was the size of the escort that would accompany Edward south from Ludlow. Hastings threatened to return to Calais if the Prince’s escort were not reduced to 2,000 men. This is an indication of just how intimidated the anti-Woodville party felt. Edward’s arrival with a large army would be perceived as highly aggressive and Hastings was prepared take an equally aggressive position (holing up at Calais with the country’s only standing army) to counter it. It was Elizabeth who persuaded her supporters that Hastings was right. This gesture has been interpreted as an enactment of her ‘peace-making’ role, and of her sensitivity to the feelings of the magnates, but it could equally well have been a piece of realpolitik: Calais was loyal to Hastings and he had made powerful friends at the courts of France and Burgundy during his governorship. The new King could not afford to have him as an enemy.
Richard of Gloucester was in the north at the time of his brother’s death, and it was Hastings who wrote to him with the news, which he received on 13 or 14 April, at the same time as the messengers to Ludlow informed the twelve-year-old Edward he was now King. One view of Richard’s feelings at this time comes from Dominic Mancini, who asserts that Richard had sequestered himself in the north to avoid the ‘jealousy’
of the Queen and the ‘insults’ of her ‘ignoble family’. Mancini also claims Hastings advised Richard that he could ‘avenge’ such insults if he took the young King under his protection before the boy arrived in London. Mancini’s reports are valuable in that he wrote down the information he picked up about London, that is, what people believed to be happening, but for the same reason there is inevitably a strong element of hearsay in his accounts. He claimed Gloucester hated Elizabeth because of Clarence’s execution, and vowed to be avenged, but this seems excessively simplistic, given the brothers’ feud over the Neville inheritance and Clarence’s earlier history of treachery to the crown.
Gloucester had made a great public show of grief, true, but this had not prevented him from scooping up his brother’s share of the Neville booty. On the surface, Richard, unlike Hastings, appeared to have no quarrel with the Woodvilles in 1483, nor did Elizabeth seem to have any especial dislike of him. Indeed, Lord Rivers had requested Richard’s arbitration in a property dispute in Norfolk just a few months before. And whatever his private feelings, Richard had been quick to write a letter of condolence to the Queen, assuring her of his loyalty. Richard did come to give the Woodvilles cause to hate and fear him, but even then there is no reason to assume it was personal. He merely turned on them, as on so many others, when they got in his way.