Lancaster
Hi geeks! Currently ‘shooting’ a new video mini-series on the mother of the Tudors. Got some great questions in that I was going to answer all at once – but the video got way, way, way too long.
So here’s the intro. Pretty soon all the clips about Margaret and her marriages should be up. Hope you enjoy!
Loyal readers will know that I’m something of a ‘Wars of the Roses’ fan. I mean, obviously I’m not actually a fan of any war – but you get what I mean.
Some argue the wars ended in 1471, others in 1485. In reality they are still bring fought today – just on social media rather than the battle field.
Or, to be less dramatic, it is fair to say that the debate around which Royal House – York or Lancaster – had the best claim to the throne is still hotly debated.
The Wars of the Roses saw the houses of York and Lancaster fight for the throneThe argument – with respect to my fellow geeks – is not always at the most sophisticated level. A slightly flippant summary would go along the lines of ‘I’m a Tudor geek so Lancaster had the best claim’ to be retaliated with ‘York had the moral high ground because I fancy Max Irons.’
Up until recently, my more moderate view was that ‘York probably had the best claim’ while accepting it wasn’t a black and white issue. I even created some quite hilarious memes to that effect. But there’s a reason I decided to pick up my virtual biro and pen this post. That’s right super cool readers…following a bit more research, I have changed my mind.
Let’s have a quick recap. In 1399, Henry Bolinbroke deposed his cousin Richard II and established the house of Lancaster on the throne of England.
Henry IV – as Bolinbroke became – was the eldest boy of John of Gaunt – third son of Edward III.
The Lancastrian crown then passed safely down the dynasty for three generations until in the late 1450s people got fed up with the well meaning but weak Henry VI who was probably mentally ill. He was challenged for the throne by his distant cousin Richard, Duke of York – a descendant of Edmund of Langley, Edward III’s fourth surviving son.
On the face of it therefore, York’s claim seems pretty weak; Langley was certainly the younger brother to Gaunt. But here’s the snag. Richard was also descended from Philippa of Clarence, the daughter of Lionel of Antwerp – Edward III’s second son. So, if you accept that women can transmit their claim to the throne to their male descendants, York really did have a claim worth taking seriously.
By the end of the end of the 15th century, descent through the female line was broadly accepted as a legal basis for succession. Henry VII loosely claimed the throne through his mother, Margaret Beaufort and his son had a far greater claim through descent from Elizabeth of York. Perhaps because my interest in history began in the Tudor era, I have always been tempted to read this mindset into earlier generations and this might be why I had always assumed York’s claim was slightly superior, despite recognising it was complicated.
However, the more I’ve researched the politics, law and conventions of the 14th century, the more I’ve begun to question my thinking. I’ve discovered that- while Salic law, which prohibits women from inheriting the throne was never formally introduced – the trend toward male-only inheritance was gaining currency. Many nobles were entailing their estates so that only sons could inherit.
It would seem that the great Edward III has similar sentiments. Disaster struck the Royal House when Edward the Prince of Wales (known to history as the ‘Black Prince’) died prematurely leaving one surviving son behind. In a world of high mortality, the succession was far from secure.
To the political classes it was unclear whether the next heir after Prince Richard (the future Richard II) was Roger Mortimer, son of Philippa of Clarence (the heir general) or John of Gaunt and his son (the heirs male).
Essentially, because the Duke of York inherited the Mortimer claim via his mother, it is this question that legitimised the Wars of the Roses. But, little did I realise until recently, it is actually one that Edward III had decided to answer. In 1376 he created a document that made clear his intent to entail the throne through the male line. Should Richard II’s line fail, his intent was that the crown should pass to Lancaster.
Legally, the only thing that could really override this would be if Richard had nominated a successor – but he appeared to leave the question open, possibly for political leverage. However he did ultimately name Henry as his successor by the handing over of the ring – admittedly under some duress. When Parliament accepted Henry IV’s sovereignty in 1399 it was probably not because of the size of his army – and indeed there is much to suggest that his ‘coup’ was relatively bloodless – and more to do with the fact that, once a case could be made to dispose Richard, a Lancastrian succession was legally appropriate.
That said, there were those in the reign of Henry IV who always believed the Mortimer claim to be superior – although usually because they had something to gain from thinking like that. I accept this is not a closed conversation.
But what you can’t do, is start applying attitude changes retrospectively. By the 1460s, people were more open to female succession in the 1460s. To an extent, even Lancastrians had to be. Henry VI’s unimpressive efforts in reproduction were leaving Margaret Beaufort as one of the talked about candidates for the crown. But you can’t wind the clock back and uproot a dynasty and this is why no one took York’s claims particularly seriously until he made them good on the battle field. When changes in attitude take place and the rules of succession evolve, it is generally accepted that these apply only to future generations.
I’ve had blogged previously about why Edward IV must be deemed a usurper; this post reinforces my views. The House of York did not have a superior claim to the throne than Lancaster; instead they did what other usurping dynasties before them had done – they allowed might to make right and came up with a justification to rubber stamp it. Lancaster had done the same in 1399 by attempting to claim senior descendants from Henry III. It just so happens that York’s claims had a little more credibility to back up their military antics.
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Been thinking lately about good King Henry. No not that one. Nor that one. Not even that one.
I speak not of Henry VIII, who transformed England perhaps more than any other ruler. Nor do I dwell on his father, who founded the infamous Tudor dynasty. I do not even mean the fifth Harry, who took England to its 100 year war zenith at the battle of Agincourt.
Instead, I’ve been pondering the reign of Henry VI – the man whose reign was seen as so disastrous that it led to the Wars of the Roses and ultimately, the downfall of Lancaster and the rise of York. He was weak. Easily led. He had no desire for glory in war. He lacked ruthlessness. He was far too trusting; particularly when it came to unscrupulous advisers.
All this is accurate. He had none of the qualities necessary for successful medieval Kingship.
But something bothers me about how history judges him. No sympathy has emerged and few rarely speak up for his good qualities. He was a man of genuine religious conviction. He was compassionate. He invested in education. He forgave people that wronged him. He was not promiscuous. He took care of his maternal half-brothers. He was a lover of peace.
None of this, I agree, would have endeared him to contemporaries. But shouldn’t the 21st century observer be pouring praise on these virtues? After all, the behaviour of Catherine Howard made her a totally unsuitable Tudor Queen; but the modern reader has sympathy with her, recognising that she was essentially an abused teenage girl, forced into marriage with an obese man in his 50s. Why isn’t Henry VI given the same generosity?
It has come to my attention of late that the Wars of the Roses are still being fought – albeit by history fans on Twitter. Great! But it surprises me that so many side with Edward IV at the expense of poor Henry.
Don’t get me wrong – as I’ve said above, I understand why contemporaries would have seen Edward as the better King. But shouldn’t we judge differently? Shouldn’t we be quick to acknowledge that virtuous, faithful, peaceful Henry is a better offering than adulterous, gluttonous and war ready Edward – even if we have to sadly acknowledge that the latter probably makes you a better ruler of 15th century England?
But we don’t. Part of me can’t shake the feeling that this has all been distorted by the fact that so many history fans have a crush on Max Irons…
Anyway, for this blogger at least, Henry VI deserves a reprieve. He may have been one of the most unsuited heads to ever wear a crown – but he’s one of the finest characters in the annals of history.
Okay Yorkists (and other geeks) – do your worst. Tell me where I’m going wrong! I want to hear what you think!
I stumbled across something interesting the other day. For some reason, I was checking out the Wikipedia entry on ‘usurpers of the English throne’ (we’ve all done it) and discovered that it features a list of those who had seized the crown. As you can imagine, it was an exciting moment!
But it was also a moment that triggered a surge of indignation in my usually placid personality. For while Henry IV, the first Lancastrian King had made his way onto the list, Edward IV of the House of York was strangely absent.
Before this spirals into a whole Lancaster vs York partisan thing, let me be clear: I fully accept that Henry IV deserves his place on the list. Even though his bid to seize the throne was initially fairly popular and despite propagandist claims that his cousin Richard II ‘agreed’ to the new arrangement, there can be no doubt that Henry of Bolingbroke was a usurper. Richard II was clearly forced off the throne and even if he had died or surrendered it willingly, there was arguably another with a better claim.
But excluding Edward IV, who seized the throne from the Lancastrians in 1461, really got my goat.
Although the authors of the page do not present a reason for their spurious (yes, I said it – spurious) decision, it’s not hard to guess where they’re coming from. While Henry Bolingbroke – as the eldest son of Edward III’s third son – was the heir male of his grandfather (or at least, he was after Richard II had actually died), the house of York descended in the female line from Lionel of Antwerp (Edward’s second son), making Edward IV the heir general of his namesake. Most historians now believe this gave York a superior claim to the throne. No doubt the Wikipedia entry does therefore not list the first York King as a usurper because they view it as a restoration of the true blood line.
But this doesn’t stack up.
To start with, back in 1399, when Henry IV was crowned, there was genuine confusion as to whether someone could base their claim to the throne through descent in the female line. Obviously this had become fairly meaningless by the end of the War of the Roses when even the best Lancastrian claimant (Henry Tudor) was basing his right to the crown on his mother’s lineage. But for as long as the male-line Lancastrian wing existed, they had a right which could well have been viewed as superior.
The real reason actually goes much deeper. Regardless of the ‘who had the better claim’ debate, the truth was that by 1461, the house of Lancaster was an established dynasty. The crown had passed seamlessly from the first Lancastrian King to his son who reigned so successfully that his infant boy inherited without challenge. Not only had Henry VI inherited the crown smoothly enough, he had held it for the first 40 years of his reign without anyone questioning it. When Edward IV managed to get his hands on power, Parliament had only recently re-asserted Henry’s right to it, albeit at the cost of disinheriting his son.
To take the throne, Edward IV had to seize it by force. Both law and the establishment were initially against him. In my book, this is the very definition of usurption and, to be frank, it should be in anybody’s. Perhaps the Wikipedia community could take a little look at this post and snap into edit mode.
(Editor’s note: What really makes my blood boil is that Richard III is also excluded from the list of usurpers. I’m too angry about this to even put pen to paper.)
Well geeks over to you…am I misjudging what it means to usurp? Are you a crazed Yorkist who believes that house can do no wrong? Do you have a crush on Max Hastings and are letting that cloud your view? I want to know what YOU think!
The great Tudor rose. Red for Lancaster and white for York. A symbol that good King Henry had united the waring houses and brought stability to England.
And of course it wasn’t just a piece of empty imagery; it was a symbol of success. He had infused his Lancastrian blood with the rival genepool of Elizabeth of York, thanks to an alliance between their respective mothers, giving birth in turn to a host of young Yorkcastrians, better known to us as the Tudors.
But what if there was a break somewhere in the chain? What if instead of uniting his line with the descendants of Richard, Duke of York, Henry had inadvertently hooked up with the heir to a little-known French archer? According to rumours, he had done just that.
The story goes that when they were both in France, Cecily, Duchess of York and her husband the Duke were temporarily estranged due to his military commitments. During this separation, she succumbed to the advances of an archer named Blaybourne and fell pregnant with the child that would one day become Edward IV, hero of the house of York and father to the first Tudor Queen.
Most damagingly, it is claimed the story originates with Cecily herself. As even the most casual observer of this era will be aware, Edward’s marriage to the low-born Elizabeth Woodville (whose family were both known as Lancastrian sympathisers and fierce social climbers) was immensely controversial. Apparently, so enraged was she with her son, that she threatened to confess that he was illegitimate and deprive him of the throne.
It’s a serious accusation but one we should be cautious about taking at face value. There is no record of the rumour before 1483 when it emerged in the pages of Dominic Mancini, an Italian scholar dispatched to England to serve as the eyes and ears of a continental Bishop. It must be remembered that at this point, Richard III and his cronies were putting it about that Edward IV was a bastard, in order to bolster his younger brother’s claim for the throne. It is likely therefore that this rumour crops up for the first time in 1483 and probably didn’t spring from Cecily’s lips.
Without being able to depend on this fundamental plank of evidence, the rest of the arguments fall down somewhat. Let’s explore them.
Aside from all the above there are other points worth mentioning. Cecily was outraged by such rumours (suggesting, again, that she didn’t start them) and it seems hugely out of character for her to have committed adultery, especially with someone of low-birth. I think it is also reasonable to assume that Richard, Duke of York believed that Edward was his; he is unlikely to have claimed the throne for his descendants and willingly passed it on to another man’s son.
All this said, I have only had chance to #digalittledeeper into this topic. One day I would love to research it more thoroughly and am certainly open to changing my mind.
Fierce debate rages amongst super-cool Royal history geeks as to the merits of high-profile historical fiction. On the one hand, it sparks interest within the general population; on the flip side, it encourages severe inaccuracies to flow through the popular consciousness.
Generally, I’m in the ‘pro’ camp. If interest is sparked, there is a greater opportunity for misconceptions to be corrected. Besides, I really like reading and watching it all.
So when I heard that the ‘White Queen’ would enjoy a sequel in America – although not in Britain – I thought this was good news. The BBC series in 2013 sparked interest in the Wars of the Roses and the matriarchs of the Tudor dynasty more than anything I’ve ever known.
But…but, but, but, but, but…the inaccuracies were of epic proportions, to a much greater extent than the Philippa Gregory books on which they were based. It’s so important that this is realised.
Let me start by trying to tidy up a few bits. Primarily I want to say what I think was wrong with the portrayals of the three main heroines, Elizabeth Woodville, Margaret Beaufort and Anne Neville:
Elizabeth Woodville – Beautiful, heroic and tragic. All of these were true, but unlike in the book, her negative qualities just did not come across. True, she was vengeful toward those who hurt her family (though later, unconvincingly, forgave brother-in-law George), but where was the ambition, the vindictiveness, the ruthlessness and the spite? The entire court loathed Elizabeth and her kin. They must have had some kind of reason and their savagely ambitious personalities were a part of this. In one sense Elizabeth is no hero at all, but very much a medieval woman on the make. This was just not clear enough.
Margaret Beaufort – I’m sorry, but no. Yes, Margaret had blood and marital connections to Lancaster (and no doubt preferred Henry VI to Edward IV), but she was no blind fanatic to the cause of the Red Rose. Yes, she had dramatic loyalty to her son, but never in his tender years did she expect him to be King. It is well documented that she was a pious woman, but she was no crazed fundamentalist and let’s be clear – nor was she a sinister child killer. The Margaret that I have researched was a cautious pragmatist that would one day take a huge gamble that ultimately paid off. I’m also not sure why they decided to ruin her marriage to Henry Stafford, the relationship which was probably the happiest of her life.
If people are interested in a more balanced picture of Margaret Beaufort’s life and character, check out our content from Margaret Beaufort week.
Anne Neville – It wasn’t so much that they got Anne Neville’s character wrong; the problem was that they actually gave her one. Anne Neville, through the manipulations of her father and two fateful marriages to key players in the political scene, would have seen a lot. However, there is very little evidence to suggest that she herself ever inputted much. I really don’t think she helped to mastermind Lancaster’s military strategy in 1470; neither do I think she pressured her husband to do away with her nephews.
If the book is anything to go by, the new series of ‘The White Princess’ is also going to require some correcting. Never fear though geeks…that is a post for another time!
Well we’ve come to the end of Margaret Beaufort week, and let’s be clear – it rocked beyond all expectations.
This week of tribute to the Tudor matriarch was triggered in anticipation of the final episode of Dan Jones’s ‘Britain’s Bloody Crown’ – which carried a promised focus on the formidable mother of Henry VII. We wanted to join in with the fun.
And of course, at the beginning of the week I promised I would chip in my two cents worth and review the episode. Margaret has been subject to some pretty dodgy portrayals in recent years, and as Alison Weir hasn’t got time to devote a book to her until 2021 at the earliest, I regularly panic that today’s society will never have the chance to accurately glimpse the Countess’s character.
So I’m over the moon to report that Dan Jones passed the test with flying colours and I recommend that everyone checks out the Channel 5 series which is (at the time of writing) available to view online.
What did I like about it? Well, I’ll tell ya:
While Margaret’s Lancastrian credentials tend to be overdone in other portrayals, if I was to be critical of one thing it would be that this was dialed down too much in the programme. It seemed to suggest that her connection to Henry VI was that she had been married to his half-brother. She was of course his cousin in her own right and a descendant of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. Not exactly a major player in the ruling dynasty, but certainly a second division member of the house of Lancaster. But of course, TV as a medium doesn’t always lend itself to getting these subtler messages across.
Anyway, I’m sure Margaret Beaufort will continue to be revisited on this site. I’ve certainly had a blast with this spotlight on the great lady – I hope you guys have found it almost as enjoyable as me.
As we have shown in the previous post, most of the arguments that suggest Margaret was looked upon as a potential heir to the throne are not satisfactory. Now it is time to examine the two stronger theories.
In part 2, I examined three of the most common reasons given for Margaret having a claim to England’s throne; but I also showed why they sadly don’t amount to much.
But there are two stronger – although I think ultimately unsatisfactory – reasons that are also given.
Parliament had acknowledged her claim in 1450
Maybe. When she was the ward of the unpopular Duke of Suffolk, Parliament had accused him of trying to marry her to his son ‘pretending and believing her to be the heir to the throne.’
Essentially they had major beef with Suffolk, the King’s unpopular adviser and wanted him out. They needed an excuse. Margaret had been his ward for years and he had either married her or planned to marry her to his son. Those that had it in for Suffolk concocted a story that he had ganged up with the French to try and do away with the King, and get his son to claim the throne by right of marriage to Margaret.
It does add weight to the claim that she was considered next in line, but…but, but, but: we have to remember that neither was Suffolk saying he thought she actually was (and indeed, he denied he thought she was) and nor did Parliament suggest that she actually was. They were accusing Suffolk of pretending she was.
Nonetheless in order to Parliament’s framing of Suffolk to have been in any way credible, there must have been a certain sense that Margaret was not an outlandish candidate for succession. It’s also very possible that anyone who was not keen on the idea of the Duke of York being next in line, may have considered Margaret a more viable option.
Her son had to flee to exile in 1470 – surely that means he was considered a rival to the Yorks?
This is a strong argument. Why on earth did the future Henry VII have to flee the country when the Yorks were restored in 1470 if he was no threat? Some must have thought him a claimant and that claim was transmitted from his mother.
However at this point, Lancaster had little choice. In the 1450s, York was generally considered Henry VI’s heir: but this was hardly an option now. And, after the battle of Tewksbury the house of Lancaster (including the Beauforts) had been eliminated in the male line. Henry Richmond was ‘the closest Lancaster had to Royalty.’ Therefore at this point it does seem that opinions had shifted and Margaret’s Beaufort claim now had validity. But we must be clear. This was placed firmly on her son. Nobody envisaged her making a bid for power herself.
So where does all this leave us? Let’s hop on over to the conclusion to find out.
Margaret Beaufort is the idol of many Royal history geeks. But are the constant claims that she was once seen as a potential Queen of England really justifiable?
As I have said in the intro, I think it’s unlikely that anyone ever saw Margaret Beaufort as a potential Queen of England. But there are four reasons historians sometimes give – and another one I have factored in – as to why I could be wrong. We’re going to explore the first three, which I am confident don’t stack up, in this post before moving on to the two I have a little more time for in the next.
Hold on tight, here we go:
ARGUMENT 1: The reason Henry VI married her so young to his brother was to provide Lancaster with an heir and even to give his brother the chance of succeeding him (by right of marriage). Therefore, she must have had a good claim.
Historians tell us that arranging the marriage of Edmund Tudor (his maternal half-brother who had no claim to the throne) to the semi-royal Margaret Beaufort was one of the few acts of Henry VI’s reign that was entirely determined by him rather than his wife or an advisor. If this is true, it seems unlikely that he had the succession in mind. He certainly did nothing to dispel the assumption that the Duke of York was next in line. If this was his plan, then it was a demonstration of strategic thinking that he failed to exhibit at any other stage of his ill-fated career.
Instead it seems far more likely – and in keeping with his character – that he was keen to provide his brother with a wealth and security which had previously alluded him. Margaret – whatever else she was or wasn’t – was one of the richest heiresses in England and the King wanting to put these resources the way of his brother seems much more in keeping with the naïve but kindly character of the Henry, who had poured affection and blessing on his siblings whenever he was able.
ARGUMENT 2: Edmund Tudor risked sexual relations with the young Margaret because he knew an heir was desperately needed
I’m afraid this argument doesn’t stack up. True Margaret fell pregnant at 12 – something which was shocking even by the standards of the day and possibly a risk to Tudor’s reputation. But – however much we might want to excuse him of it – this can’t be because he was desperate to provide an heir and stability for England. By this point the King and Queen had been able to beget an heir themselves. A spare might be handy, but disgraceful urgency was hardly needed.
The reasons that he, Edmund Richmond, rushed to impregnate his child bride were far less noble. Margaret was rich. If he fathered a child by her – regardless of what happened to the mother – he would gain a life interest in her estates. It was a brutal act of avaricious. Perhaps it’s not hard to see where Henry VII inherited his love of money…
ARGUMENT 3: Henry VII based his claim through his mother, so it must have been credible
I think there’s something in this argument, but we have to be careful. Richard III had become unpopular. There wasn’t many people left to challenge him. Because the line of Henry IV and the male-line Beauforts had been eliminated at the Battle of Tewksbury, Henry of Richmond was the ‘closest thing Lancaster had to Royalty.’ In and of itself it wasn’t much of a claim, but with a pledge to marry Elizabeth of York, people started to flock to him. Might, primarily, made right.
When examined closely, none of the above really point to Margaret having much of a claim to the throne. But join us in part 3 for a couple of slightly stronger arguments.
Well geeks…over to you. Have I misjudged these arguments? Was Margaret given in marriage because of her Royal blood? Have I devalued Henry VII’s claim? Or am I spot on…?
The courage and determination of Lady Margaret Beaufort has inspired countless Royal history geeks throughout the generations. But was she really, as so many writers have suggested, ever considered a contender for the crown?
For reasons I’ve never quite been able to fathom, Lady Margaret Beaufort is my Royal history heroine. A lioness of the House of Tudor who never wore a crown herself but paved the way for her heirs to do so. She successfully seated her dynasty on the throne of England and no force in history has been able to knock it off.
To some, her brutal determination derived from the fact that she, a descendant of the house of Lancaster was the true heir to England. It was her duty to see that her claim was realised, even if in the form of her son.
And this was certainly part of the Tudor narrative. To bolster his security on the throne, her son would surround himself with images of the Beaufort Portcullis to remind everyone that the blood of Edward III – however distantly – trickled through his veins. But how much was this a retrospective realisation by Henry VII’s court? Had anyone prior to 1485 really thought that Margaret of Richmond had any real claim to the crown of England.
I love Margaret Beaufort. But at time of writing I don’t think that she was ever really considered a potential Queen of England by anybody. In her childhood I just don’t believe anyone thought it credible. When Lancaster was all but depleted people looked straight to her son – and even then only with the thinnest of hopes. Henry VII’s claim was in truth based on conquest and marriage.
Examining this further certainly requires a mini-series. First we will look at the reasons usually given for Margaret’s claim and see why they don’t stack up. Then we will explore the best arguments in her favour before summing up in a conclusion.
Enjoy! I did.