Author: Gareth - Editor
A crisis of conscience led Henry VIII to question the validity. of his first marriage. His wife had once been married to his brother. But Katherine swore her marriage to Arthur, Prince of Wales had never been consummated.
At a distance of 500 years, is it possible to determine the truth of this deeply personal matter?
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Favouritism could be the downfall of a medieval king. But a measured and sustained favouring of the Beauforts by their Lancastrian kin drew the family into the centre of England’s nobility.
When Edward IV usurped the throne in 1461, he made both his brothers dukes. Huge landed estates were bestowed on each of them. As they grew up, he drew them deeper into the governance of the realm.
At first, glance, this contrasts sharply with the actions of that other famous usurper, Henry IV. When he seized the throne in 1399 his brother, John Beaufort was reduced in rank from Marquess of Dorset to Earl of Somerset. At no single point was a major land endowment offered. The king even went out of his way to proclaim that descendants of his Beaufort kin could never be contenders for the crown.
Was it something they said?
But these isolated instances distort the truth. Under the house of Lancaster, the Beauforts reached the summit of society.
As Royal History Geeks will know, the Beaufort family finds its origins in the birth of John in 1374. The illegitimate son of John of Gaunt and his mistress, Katherine Swynford was soon joined by three siblings.
As children of the richest man in England and grandchildren of Edward III, the lives of the first Beauforts were never going to be ordinary. But as bastards, their prospects were unlikely to be great. Their parents eventually married and the Beauforts’ were legitimisation in the 1390s. But few could have predicted how the dynasty would become interwoven with the politics of the following century.
The advancement of the Beauforts has its roots in the reign of Richard II. But it reached a new level when their half-brother usurped the throne as Henry IV.
The best example of how advanced the Beauforts were by their Lancastrian kin is their rapid acquisition of land. By the end of the 1440s they were the dominant landowners in Somerset and a major landed player in the Westcountry. Just 50 years before, they didn’t own a single square meter in the county.
It isn’t just the speed and volume of land acquisition that’s significant. It’s the location. In the late medieval period, landowners were desperate to consolidate their landholdings in an individual country. It cemented their Lordship. But kings were determined to frustrate such ambitions. The idea of nobles building unwieldy regional power bases did not appeal. When large estates were granted, they were typically regionally disparate.
In consolidating their power in Somerset, the medieval historian Chris Given-Wilson notes that the Beauforts enjoyed their share of luck. But such a speedy consolidation would not have been possible without royal support. The Lancastrian Kings had significantly bent the rules for the advancement of the Beaufort relatives. As a mark of high favour, this cannot be underestimated.
From the earliest days of Henry IV’s reign, it was clear that the Beauforts were a family in favour. John was constantly in his brother’s company. He held high and lucrative offices such as the Captaincy of Calais. Henry Beaufort served as Lord Chancellor. Joan remained a countess though many had expected her husband to be reduced in rank. The young Thomas was set on a path of advancement that would one day see him become Duke of Exeter.
But why, if the family were in favour, did it take three generations for their advancement to truly be cemented. The answer lies in the very real constraints that bound medieval kingship – or at least should if a king were to be successful.
It’s tempting to think of medieval kings as absolute despots with the power to dispense patronage as they see fit. History, however, had taught all kings to be cautious. All, that is, but the most foolish.
Extreme favouritism made a king vulnerable. When a lesser man was plucked out of nowhere and rapidly raised above the nobility of the day, the political order was in danger of collapse.
This was not simply because such actions ruffled the feathers of proud aristocrats. It was because extreme favouritism undermined the whole system of lordship on which the government in medieval England was predicated.
A lord built his power base on the land he held and the ‘affinity’ he was able to build in the shires and counties in which he was a major landholder. If land was given to an unworthy favourite, there was less for the established nobility.
But the problem went deeper than that.
A lord’s affinity in counties and shires where they were dominant (their ‘countries’ as they called them) depended on an unwritten, but very real code. If the gentry and players of that community would honour the lordship of the major landowner, that Lord would, in turn, act in their favour. It was never as crude as a quid-pro-quo. But through his access to the King, a lord could obtain justice, maintain order and open up possibilities for advancement.
For all of this, a lord needed the ear of the king. And to be perceived as having the ear of the king.
This was a reasonable expectation. The nobility was the ordained body with whom the King should socialise, fraternise and consult. But in a time when favourites had come to prominence, the natural order of things was distorted. If a King was beholden to the advice of his favourites – government by clique – what confidence could people have that the nobility were listened to? A Lord was at risk of losing his affinity. Collectively, this is something the nobility were unlikely to suffer for long.
All Kings were mindful of this. And none more so than Henry IV. He had had just overthrown a King renowned for favouritism. He was likely to be extra sensitive to it.
None of this means King’s didn’t have favourites. Edward IV had William Hastings. Henry VII advanced his stepfather. But for favouritism to be tolerated, it had to be measured, moderate and gradual. This was the policy that Henry IV would pursue with his Beaufort kin.
I began this post by contrasting the Beauforts with the siblings of Edward IV. But really that’s like comparing apples and oranges. The house of York claimed to be the senior descendants of Edward III. The late duke of York had been recognised as rightful king of England. Edward IV’s brothers were treated as sons of a king. A dukedom was their birth right.
In 1399, however, Henry IV had (rather spuriously) claimed the throne through his mother. The status of his paternal half-siblings remained unaffected.
Besides, the Beauforts never really lost the taint of bastardy. Once they were legitimised the nobility welcomed them to their ranks. But they were never really accepted as royalty.
Good kings acted within the constraints of certain expectations. For a usurper like Henry IV to survive, patronage had to be used sparingly and strategically. That measured and sustained favouritism was focused on the Beauforts. In the dark days of the Wars of the Roses, that constant favour would be repaid in full.
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John, duke of Somerset was a ‘Lancastrian prince’ who married beneath him. Was this an act of passion or were more pragmatic considerations in mind?
I’m going to let you into a little secret. At heart I’m a romantic. I think most Royal History Geeks are.
When I’m delving into the tales of England’s history, the personal lives and misadventures of those who shaped it always spark my curiosity. I’m as interested in them as I am the political, military or dynastic significance of their actions.
So as you can imagine, my sense of intrigue goes into overdrive when I think I’ve discovered that rare thing: a genuine medieval love match.
For a time I thought I had found just that in the union of John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset and Margaret Beauchamp. Could it be that the parents of Margaret Beaufort and grandparents of Henry VII had married for love?
Let’s review the facts. John Beaufort moved in the upper reaches of nobility. He considered himself a Lancastrian prince. His status was high and he was in search of a fortune to match. The Earl of Somerset (as he then was) wanted to enter the league of the great landowners of the realm like York and Buckingham. And he also had a staggering ransom to pay off.
Margaret Beauchamp was no slouch. She was from the top tier of the gentry and a landowner in her own right. But she was no aristocrat or major heiress. Besides, she already had children from a previous marriage. While her lands were not insignificant, they were unlikely to be inherited by a Beaufort descendant.
If money could not be the reason for their match, could the motivation have been more tender?
As I further explored the story of the pair, the tale of love seemed to continue. Ahead of setting off to war, John negotiated that should he die, his wife would retain the wardship of their then-unborn child. He was ensuring that mother and child would not be separated. Surely that can only be interpreted as an act of affection?
It was a wonderful thought. Sadly, it was one not informed by the realities of the time.
To a true Royal History Geek, there’s no such thing as too much research. Every facet of context we can absorb illuminates another piece of the picture we are trying to build. But I would have to concede that when you delve deeper and deeper into the economic and political structures of the day, you must prepare for romantic notions to be shattered.
John and Margaret are a case in point.
Elizabeth Norton was the first writer to set me straight on John and Margaret’s union. Margaret may not have been the sort of wife that a man of Somerset’s stature had dreamt of. But she was probably the best catch available. Having been imprisoned in France for 20 years, most of the prized brides of his generation had already been snapped up. Margaret, with her modest inheritance, could at least contribute something financially while he tightened his belt to pay off his ransom.
But what about Somerset’s negotiation with the King that his wife should keep their child’s wardship? Surely that could still be significant.
Significant it certainly was. But it’s probably not wise to interpreted it as an act of love.
Instead it should be understood as an attempt by the (by then) Duke of Somerset to protect the inheritance of his heir.
Had Somerset died while his child was a minor it would have created a ‘feudal incident’. And these were what 14th century landowners feared above all else.
As Somerset held land directly from the King, Henry VI would have assumed responsibility for the young child. He would have granted his or her ‘wardship’ to someone currently in his favour. For the duration of the child’s minority, their ‘guardian’ would have taken responsibility for the Beaufort lands – and received all associated revenues. Crucially, whoever held the child’s wardship would control their marriage. He could literally sell it to the highest bidder.
The child’s guardian could not deprive the heir permanently of their lands. But they could manage the estate in a way that would maximise short term revenue at the expense of responsible stewardship.
They could also try and ‘asset strip’ the estate by granting facets of land out to trust. This might prevent the heir from coming into the fullness of their revenue when they came of age. Such measures could be challenged legally. But it represented a clear risk to the child’s long-term best interests.
In the possible event of his early death, who could Somerset really trust to act in the best interest of his heir? Even his younger brother would have looked jealously upon the Beaufort lands that the offspring had inherited. Quite simply, only his duchess would possess a real interest in careful stewardship of the Somerset estate. Only Margaret could have been trusted to negotiate the best possible marriage for their child. And it is for these more economic and dynastic reasons, that the Duke would have been so keen to ensure that wardship fell to her.
Of course, none of this is evidence that the pair weren’t a love match. It could be argued that attempting to secure the wardship for his wife was still an act of consideration, if not affection. It could also be read as a mark of respect. Unlike most women of the day, Margaret had experience as a landowner. She had demonstrated the competence to look after her child’s affairs.
A romantic streak is an asset to anyone exploring the stories of our forebears. It sparks our interest and encourages us to dig a little deeper. However, if our first commitment is to the facts of history, we must always be prepared to revise our romance when our understanding of the era deepens.
Could York’s proudest son have really been the child of a French archer?
Edward IV faced rumours in his own time that he was not a legitimate Plantagenet. More recently, historians have raised questions around the circumstances of his conception and birth.
In this video, I outline why I do not believe claims of Edward’s illegitimacy bear scrutiny.
I am indebted to a blog post by Trish Williams on the History Files. This post did not fundamentally change my view and I was already aware of the most of the information in contains. However, I had not previously appreciated that the Earls of Oxford and Ormonde/Wiltshire had been in France with the Yorks in 1441. This information is significant and a game changer in discrediting the rumours that surfaced in 1469.
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The young Margaret of Somerset became the greatest heiresses of her era; but her phenomenal wealth made her a pawn to politics.
I’m hardly the first Royal History Geek to be fascinated by Margaret Beaufort. The matriarch’s struggles, hardships and triumphs are the things that epics are made of.
A widowed mother at 13. A fifth column in the final days of the Yorkist regime. Against all the odds, her valiant efforts put her descendants on the throne. They’ve remained there ever since.
But even before the Wars of the Roses broke out, Margaret was a figure of note to contemporaries. Thanks to the early tragedy of her father’s death, the young Margaret inherited the bulk of the Beaufort fortune.
But just how wealthy was the young Margaret of Somerset? Did her wealth place her among the upper reaches of England’s nobility? Had she been a man, would her fortune have made her a major military player in the dynastic wars that dominated her life?
As so often with Margaret Beaufort questions, we must turn to the academic study by Michael K Jones and Malcolm G Underwood. In these pages, the young heiresses’ lands are explored in detail. Thanks largely to the fortune of her late grandmother, who was co-heiress to the earldom of Kent, by 1450 it was clear that Margaret wielded a fortune of approximately £1000 a year.
On its own, this doesn’t tell us much. Such a figure would be no great income today. How far did a grand go in the 1450s?
To get some sense of an answer we must wind the clock back to seven years before Margaret’s birth. Ahead of a new tax to fund the war with France, all landowners were assessed and their annual income calculated. The findings have come down to us.
If Margaret were alive in 1436 and in possession of her fortune, she would have ranked among the top 20 landowners. Given that there were about 60 titled families at any one time, this placed Margaret in the upper-third of noble society. Those with lands to the value of £25 a year were deemed wealthy enough to tax. Margaret’s income was 40 times that sum.
However, we need to be very, very careful about this. Seven years is a long time. Income from land was subject to the stewardship of the landlord and, at least to some extent, market forces.
Furthermore, it’s clear from other evidence that the rich then – like the rich today – had gone to some length to disguise the extent of their wealth.
As an indication however, it remains illuminating. Chris Given-Wilson, the great late-medieval historian, estimates that an earl would typically enjoy £1000-1500 a year. This is clearly the category that Margaret was in. Nonetheless, money was not always so logically linked to title. Some earls – such as Devon, Westmoreland and Suffolk – seemed to have less. Some could claim considerably more. There were also a handful of wealthy barons who enjoyed fortunes greater than some earls.
Margaret, however, did not have an income worthy of a major power broker. If we take numbers from the 1436 list, add together the various titles and estates that were consolidated in the late 1430s and 1440s, we get a sense as to who the major players were at the beginning of the Wars of the Roses.
The Duke of Buckingham enjoyed almost £3000 a year, the Duke of York £3500 and the mighty Earl of Warwick £4,400. As stated earlier, these figures should be taken as conservative. Studies on the Duke of Buckingham for example, suggest his income was double this sum – at least in some years.
Margaret’s wealth was both extraordinary and unremarkable. What made it so significant was her sex. It was unusual – thought not unique, even in her own time – for a woman to be in sole possession of such a staggering sum. And that staggering sum, of course, was up for grabs by a future husband.
Under the common law of primogeniture, women would only inherit a parent’s fortune if they were devoid of a brother. The eldest son would typically inherit the lot. But when there was more than one daughter (and no son) the girls had to share it out equally.
Great landowners hated the idea of daughters inheriting. This was not out of pure misogyny. They loathed the thought of their estates being divvied up among daughters and used to bolster the ambitions of the lesser Lords their girls would marry. As a result, many deployed legal devises – such as entails – to block female inheritance.
For whatever reason, the Beauforts never deployed such a devise. As her father’s sole surviving legitimate child, Margaret’s status as a major heiress was established within the first two years of her life.
Money was important to Margaret. When her son seized the throne, she would be granted plenty more of it. But this early fortune would lead to trauma. Before she was seven years old, she was abandoned to the machinations of the medieval marriage market. Her money, along with her trickle of royal blood, made her a pawn of politics from her earliest years.
Thank goodness that the matriarch of the Tudors was a born survivor.
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Even before the ‘White Princess’ TV series, Margaret Beaufort was remembered as the mother-in-law from Hell. But does she really deserve this reputation? Check out my thoughts on the reason why Margaret was so much at court in the early years of Henry VII’s reign. What do you think?
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The Queen’s announcement that the Duke and Duchess of Sussex will cease using the style His/Her Royal Highness has taken many by surprise.
Recently, the folks at CNN have published a piece stating that while the couple will not use the style, the Queen has not formally revoked it.
This is true. However, the rest of the piece shows how little the history and the use of the style is understood. Because the article contains errors which seem to be widespread, I wanted to take a moment to correct the inaccuracies in the piece.
This blog post is not intended as a criticism of the journalist or the people who have been sharing the piece on social media. Royal titles are complicated and opaque. Rules have not been followed consistently throughout history. They largely emerge from established custom and have not been logically or systematically developed. I have been studying them for many years and thought it might be helpful to clear a few things up.
CNN claim: it’s entirely unprecedented for a monarch to ask her own grandchild to drop their title
This is probably technically true. However, it is not unprecedented for royal grandchildren to stop using them.
When Princess Patricia of Connaught – granddaughter of Queen Victoria – married in 1919 she stated her wish to relinquish the style of Royal Highness and the title of Princess of Great Britain and Ireland. Her cousin, George V, issued a Royal Warrant relieving her of the title and allowing her to be styled as Lady Patricia Ramsay with precedence before Marchionesses.
CNN claim: since the early 18th century it’s been customary for the title to be issued to sons and grandsons (and later, daughters and granddaughters) of the monarch.
It is certainly true that prior to the mid-1800s the use of the style was used inconsistently. However, I cannot find any evidence that it was given to male descendants prior to their female counterparts.
It’s probably worth pausing here to quickly review the history of ‘Royal Highness.’ The best work on this is an academic study by Ann Lyon, but you have to pay to get it. Hopefully, my more workman-like run through will suffice.
CNN: HRH is bestowed upon royal members at the discretion of the monarch at the time, but was used liberally until World War I.
This is not true. As we have seen from the above, Queen Victoria clarified the use of HRH in 1864 and it was clearly restricted to two generations.
CNN claim: in 1917, George V restricted how many minor royals were getting the title – at a time when there was public suspicion about the German origins of the House of Windsor, speedily renamed that year from the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha.
Not true. As we have seen, George V slightly expanded the use of the HRH style. He did, however, heavily curtain the use of the Prince / Princess title and all but eliminated the style of ‘Highness’.
CNN claim: Queen Elizabeth II has loosened those guidelines, giving HRH status to a number of senior royals.
Not really. The only extension she has made was to ensure the style went to all children of the eldest son of the Prince of Wales. Without these changes, only George would have been an HRH. The younger two would currently be known as Lady Charlotte Mountbatten-Windsor and Lord Louis Mountbatten-Windsor. However, they would have obtained HRH upon Charles’s succession.
CNN claim: They’ve agreed to be known as Harry, Duke of Sussex and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex.
Have they? I’ve seen this a lot on social media, but I can’t find any evidence for it.
If one is the holder of a peerage than using first names with titles is highly irregular. There are plenty of Dukes who are not Royal. For example, the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire are known as just that. Not Peregrine, Duke of Devonshire and Amanda, Duchess of Devonshire.
In reality, when involved in commercial work, I suspect that the couple will do what most peers do and use their title as a surname. So, if the Duchess stars in a film, she will probably be credited as ‘Meghan Sussex.’ In the same way, the current Earl of Snowdon trades as ‘David Linley’, because prior to his father’s death his title was Viscount Linley.
The truth is, we’re not clear on how this is going to work yet. I assume – although may be wrong – that when they do come to big Royal events, such as Charles’s coronation, they will still use HRH.
CNN claim: today, children and grandchildren of the monarch traditionally get the HRH title – though it was historically withheld from granddaughters
As explored above, I cannot find any evidence for this. If anyone knows where this has come from, or if I have missed anything, please let me know.
CNN claim: Not everyone has accepted the offer of an HRH. Princess Anne, the Queen’s daughter, declined the title for her own children, Peter and Zara. That’s in contrast to Prince Andrew, who allowed his daughters, Beatrice and Eugenie, to carry it.
This is commonly stated but is not true. Anne’s children were never entitled to HRH. As you’ll see from above the title goes to children and male-line grandchildren of a sovereign. This follows the usual pattern that a child takes their style from their father unless their mother has a hereditary title.
The only way that it could be argued that Anne ‘chose’ for her children to be untitled is that it is almost certain that her first husband – Mark Philips – was offered an Earldom upon marriage. Had he accepted it, then Peter would be known as Viscount Something (Earls typically have two titles and the eldest son is known by the lesser in his father’s lifetime) and his sister as Lady Zara Tindall.
CNN claim: Kate and Megan were both were awarded the HRH title by the Queen after they married Princes William and Harry, respectively. But those who marry royals who aren’t as high in the line of succession may miss out. Jack Brooksbank, for instance, did not get the title when he married Eugenie, even though she is an HRH.
This is a total misunderstanding. Under British common law, a woman becomes the feminine of everything her husband is. So whoever HRH Prince Michael of Kent marries becomes HRH Princess Michael of Kent.
However, women cannot communicate precedence, title or styles to their husbands, hence why Eugenie’s husband is untitled. It has nothing to do with their place in the succession. Hope this helps clears a few things up!
A few years ago – before I even knew the name ‘Meghan Markle’ – I penned a post exploring what titles any future wife of Prince Harry and their children might possess. By some margin, it’s had more hits than anything else I’ve ever written.
In the post, I stated my hunch – and it really was just a hunch – that upon marriage Harry would be created ‘Duke of Sussex’, a title he is rumoured to desire.
Perhaps I have more influence than I think. When the joyous news of the couple’s engagement was released, some media outlets were reporting as near certainty that America’s Meghan Markle would be transformed into Sussex’s Duchess upon marriage.
There are a number of logical reasons for thinking this. Most of the Dukedoms previously used for royalty are occupied and those that remain – such as Clarence – seem too tainted to touch.
But I still think that our popular media has jumped the gun. Let’s look at the other alternatives Her Majesty is presented with:
For what it’s worth, I still think Dukedom of Sussex is going to be the one that lands. I’ve read rumours that Harry has always wanted it (I have no idea if they’re true) and it seems that Her Majesty does take personal wishes into consideration. But to report it as a done deal – like so much of our media has (and don’t even get me started on the American press) is just continuing the trend of lazy journalism that bombards conversation on these topics.
So much of what I discuss on this site can never be truly known. The great thing about this subject is that it’s only a matter of months before time will tell…
With the ‘White Princess’ currently broadcasting in America it’s important to take a more balanced look at the relationship between the so called ‘Red Queen’ and ‘White Queen.’
Being UK based I haven’t actually seen the ‘White Princess’ so I’m basing any comments on the book and what American friends have reported.
Sorry about the length and quality. Am working on my skills!
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At the beginning of the year, this site listed a number of books we were most looking forward to hitting our shelves. At the top of the list was the second installment of Alison Weir’s six novels telling the stories of Henry VIII’s curious Queens.
‘Anne Boleyn: a King’s Obsession’ will debut in book stores on May 18th. Across social media, the best-selling author and historian has been hinting that the novel will explore new and potentially controversial theories about Anne’s relationship with Henry and her attitudes toward female advancement. Given that Weir has previously stated that writing fiction gives the historian a greater degree of freedom when exploring thoughts and theories, anticipation is high as to what remains to be revealed.
However, for those more interested in a fresh take on one of history’s greatest love epics and the downfall of the original tragic heroine, there’s just as much reason for eager excitement. If the new artwork and endorsements from fellow writers released last week are anything to go by, absorbing the new book is going to be a beautiful experience from start to finish.
