by Penny Lawne
The first part of the prince’s will was wholly taken up with his directions for his funeral and interment, giving the cathedral gifts of clothing for use as vestments and altar cloths, his breviary and missal and a hall of ostrich plumes on black tapestry, and precious metal candlesticks, chalices and a tabernacle to adorn and serve in the chantry and fund the prayers that were to be offered up for him.49 His second concern was to endow the monastic house he had founded at Ashridge, and his chapel of St Nicholas at Wallingford Castle; both were to receive similar items of clothing and altar ware, with Ashridge receiving a particularly precious table, described as being made of gold and silver and decorated with pearls, rubies, sapphires and emeralds, which contained precious relics including a relic of the Holy Cross. The prince made few personal bequests. Richard was his main beneficiary, receiving three costly beds identified by their hangings, including the blue gown embroidered with gold roses and ostrich plumes and matching bed given to the prince by Edward III, a bed with angels embroidered on the hangings and one of red silk with baudkin stripes (silk weft and gold warp), plus two sets of wall tapestries: his arras chamber hangings depicting Saladin, and worsted hangings embroidered with mermen of the sea. Joan was to receive silver vessels to the value of 700 marks (described as silver she had brought to the marriage), and the red worsted chamber hangings embroidered with eagles and griffons, with a border of swans with ladies’ heads. The prince was careful to remember his illegitimate son, Sir Roger Clarendon (he too received a bed), his confessor Sir Robert Walsham and his servant Alan Cheyne. Otherwise he directed his executors to use the remainder of his goods to pay his funeral expenses and settle his debts, and distribute anything remaining between his servants according to their degrees and desserts. The prince had already very generously provided for his knights, squires and other retainers by granting them annuities, and he charged Richard with the duty of confirming these gifts.
Considering the great love which the prince was known to have for his wife and son, it is extraordinary that his last testament shows so little reflection of this. The terms with which he chose to describe them in his will are almost unnaturally restrained, with the simple designation of ‘my son, Richard’ and ‘our consort the princess’. This is particularly surprising when in the same document the prince describes his brother Gaunt warmly as ‘our very dear and well beloved brother of Spain, Duke of Lancaster’. The prince had thought long and hard about his will and the use of these terms was quite deliberate. In describing Joan as ‘our consort the princess’ rather than as his wife he was emphasising her status. Similarly, by referring to Richard with the plain designation ‘my son’, and to his illegitimate son as ‘Sir Roger Clarendon’ the prince was distinguishing clearly between them; Richard was his son and heir and there was no acknowledgement of his paternity of Roger. In emphasising the status and legitimacy of his wife and heir, it is clear that the prince’s continuing overriding concern was to ensure the peaceful succession of their son, albeit at the expense of expressing affection. Nor did he appoint Joan as one of his executors, a quite deliberate omission which contrasts oddly with, for example, his brother Lionel’s appointment of his wife Violanta in 1368, or his cousin Henry of Lancaster’s appointment of his ‘very dear sister Lady Wake’ (Joan’s aunt) in 1360.50 But rather than implying a lack of trust in his wife, this omission suggests instead that just as he had not wanted her to take a public role in his name in political affairs, so he chose not to appoint her as one of his executors.
In contrast, the prince was all too aware of his brother’s unpopularity and the ugly rumours that Gaunt had an eye for the throne. In appointing Gaunt his main executor and specifically describing him in warm terms, the prince was sending a clear message that he had absolute trust and faith in his brother. His remaining executors were longstanding friends and servants, men who he hoped would look after his wife’s interests, and who would also serve his son: William Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester (a self-made man whose brilliance had found him high favour with Edward III that had remained after his forced resignation in 1371; according to Froissart, ‘everything was done by him and nothing was done without him’51); John Harewell, Bishop of Bath and Wells; William Spridlington, Bishop of Asaph (who had been with the prince since 1348); Robert Walsham, his confessor; Hugh Segrave, his steward since 1372; Alan Stokes and John Fordham. The witnesses to his will were John, Bishop of Hereford, Lewis Clifford, Nicholas Bond, Nicholas Sarnesfield and his clerk William Walsham.52
The care and detail with which the prince set out his wishes makes it evident that he had spent considerable time considering his dispositions, and it is reasonable to assume that he had discussed them with his wife, so that she was well aware of his plans. They both knew that in material terms Joan would be well catered for after the prince died. Not only would she receive a third of all his estates for the rest of her lifetime, but she would also then become solely entitled to manage her own considerable property and income. The nobles chosen by the prince to handle his affairs were all well known to Joan and probably on good terms with her, as it is unlikely that he would have included any whom he did not feel had his wife’s interests at heart, as well as those of his son, and she was of course especially close to her brother-in-law, John of Gaunt.
How would Joan have felt after the prince died? Grief was natural, and clearly evident. But was there also an element of relief? The prince had been ill for several years, and his demise expected for such a long time. In the last few months he probably bore very little resemblance to the energetic and charismatic leader and warrior she had married, on occasions he had probably been extremely demanding and difficult to live with, at times bitter and disappointed, and despite the note of humility expressed in the verse chosen for his tomb it is doubtful if he ever lost his imperiousness and habit of command. Joan was loyal and supportive throughout, but there must have been times when her patience was sorely tested. Nevertheless there was no hint of it in her outward demeanour. Joan respected the prince’s wishes in death as she had in his lifetime, and, probably in accordance with his instructions, shortly after his death she gave her wedding dress to St George’s chapel, Windsor.53 As the founding chapel of the Order of the Garter the chapel held a special place in the affections of Edward III and his family, and had received many gifts of clothing from Edward III, Philippa and the prince himself, including a missal and gold cape. The sumptuous donated clothing was altered to provide vestments for the clergy serving in the chapel, and altar coverings, reflecting the peculiarly intimate and unique significance the Order of the Garter had for the royal family. The king had created his wife a Lady of the Order of the Garter prior to her death, and in 1376 he had also made his favourite daughter, Princess Isabella, a member. Edward III would certainly have wanted his son to be remembered in the chapel, and an obit was celebrated for the prince annually there after his death. Philippa was similarly remembered annually, as was Gaunt’s father-in-law, Henry of Lancaster, and first wife, Blanche, and as Edward III would also later be remembered. Joan also faithfully kept her husband’s memory every year, making annual pilgrimages to his tomb at Canterbury on the anniversary of his death.
11
Princess in Politics
1376–1377
… if the princess remains a widow while her eldest son is still young and under age, and by chance war and strife break out among the barons, for the sake of good government she must use her prudence and her knowledge to establish and maintain peace among them.
Christine de Pizan1
Now that the prince was dead Joan had one further task to fulfil for him, for the prince had entrusted to her the care of their son, Prince Richard. On his deathbed the prince had commended his wife and son to his father and brother. These were the four people he most loved in the world. He had always had a special relationship with his father, whom he sincerely admired and esteemed, and he had enjoyed an exceptionally fond fraternal bond with John of Gaunt, transcending the ten-ye
ar age gap between them, stronger than the affection he had for Lionel, closest to him in age, or Edmund or Thomas. John, in return, had worshipped his brother as a child and remained in awe of him in adulthood. The prince would naturally have expected and assumed that his father and brother would look after his family, but despite the great love and trust between them the prince still insisted that they swear on the Bible that they would do all they could to help them. He was acutely aware that, although his son was the acknowledged heir to the throne, Richard was still a minor, and his succession was by no means inevitable. Joan knew, as the prince had done, that her relationship with his father and brother would be crucial in the months to come.
Edward III’s relationship with Joan was complicated by the past. While the prince was alive, the king honoured her as his beloved son’s wife, and Joan always behaved with respect and deference towards her father-in-law. Would they behave the same way after the prince’s death? Thirty years ago, the king’s attitude towards Joan with the debacle over her Holand marriage had at best been ambiguous and at worst irresponsible; as her cousin and senior kinsman he had abandoned her and as her king he had abrogated his responsibilities. Edward III was conscious of his failure, and Joan’s presence would always remind him of his shortcomings. Equally, Joan could never forget that the king had failed her when she had sorely needed his support. Once her marriage to Thomas Holand had been confirmed, their relationship had improved slowly, but it remained stiffly polite and formal, without warmth or affection. When the prince had told his father of his desire to marry Joan, Edward III’s reaction had been immensely supportive, but this reflected his feelings for his son, and not for Joan. There is no evidence that the king ever developed a genuine fondness for his daughter-in-law, with references to Joan in official documents being carefully correct, addressing her with her titles or as the prince’s wife, never in terms of affectionate endearment such as he used when addressing his son, or his daughter Princess Isabella. The king approved of his daughter-in-law’s conduct as Princess of Wales, and as his son’s wife he treated her with respect, but their relationship never progressed beyond this into one of real attachment. Appreciating this, the prince had done what he could on his deathbed to cement the ties between them.
It was a different matter with John of Gaunt; here the prince had no real qualms. An affection had developed between Joan and Gaunt on John’s first visit to his brother and sister-in-law in Aquitaine at the start of the Nájera campaign, and their relationship had continued to grow in strength and warmth. By the time Joan returned to England with the prince in 1371 their friendship was noticeably sincere and loving. The genuine intimacy between them was quite independent of the prince’s relationship with his younger brother, and in many respects resembled that of a brother and sister. This may indeed have been how each felt. For Joan, John may well have taken the place in her affections which her younger brother had once had and, poignantly, John had succeeded to Thomas Holand’s garter stall in St George’s chapel when he became a Garter knight. Her eldest son, Thomas Holand, joined Gaunt’s retinue after Joan left Aquitaine, serving with Gaunt in France in 1373.2 John, in turn, enjoyed a far closer attachment to his sister-in-law than he did with his own sisters, even his older sister, Princess Isabella. He gave regular gifts to Joan and to her family, expressing his evident affection in addressing them to her. In January 1372 the duke gave to ‘our very honoured and loved sister’ three ‘leverers blankes surterragez’ of gold, a ‘pair of gold beads, a paternoster decorated with small pearls and precious gemstones’.3 The following April the duke’s register records a gift of a gold cup for Joan, while Gaunt also gave presents to those closest to her; her daughter Maud Courtenay received a pair of paternosters, as did Eleanor Clifford (formerly de la Warr).4 Gifts between them were reciprocated, and Joan gave John a goblet with a cover embroidered with her personal insignia of a recumbent white hart.5 In June 1374, probably while on a visit, John rewarded eight of Joan’s minstrels and gave his ‘very honoured lady and sister’ a silver ewer and another cup.6 The prince’s deathbed injunction to his brother simply confirmed an existing and strong bond, and it was John and Joan’s friendship that would be crucial in the months to come, as the king’s health failed.
While the prince’s body lay in state in Westminster Hall, Parliament continued to sit and family grief had to be restrained to allow proceedings to be concluded. The Commons were not deterred from continuing their attack on the Crown and its servants, and Gaunt, grieving for his brother and protective of his father and nephew, found himself completely unable to master the situation. He was forced to concede to their demands and agree to the impeachment of his father’s servants and mistress. Alice Perrers was banished from court, Latimer was removed, and on 20 June, just two weeks after the prince’s death, the royal steward John, Lord Neville, was dismissed. The other accused fared no better. The fact that Lord Neville was a retainer of Gaunt’s, while Latimer was Neville’s father-in-law, cannot have helped Gaunt’s position. With barely any money voted for the Crown, the king’s dire financial predicament remained, while Gaunt’s unpopularity was confirmed and unsavoury rumours circulated about his ambitions. The chronicler Walsingham held Gaunt in particular contempt, convinced he wanted the throne for himself, and repeated virulent gossip and rumours current about the duke: that he had poisoned his first wife’s sister in order to gain her inheritance (his first wife, Blanche, was joint heiress with her sister Maud to Henry of Lancaster; Maud died childless, leaving Blanche the sole heiress); that he was plotting with the French king, Charles V, to obtain a papal bull declaring Richard illegitimate; and that he planned to seize the throne himself when his father died. According to Walsingham, Gaunt tried to persuade the Commons to discuss the succession, and was so intent on removing opposition that he requested a law be passed to forbid a woman from inheriting the throne, which would obviate the claim of Lionel’s daughter Philippa, who arguably held the most legitimate claim to the throne after the prince’s son.7 Although there was no evidence to support the allegations made against the duke, the Commons were sufficiently concerned about Gaunt’s intentions that within three weeks of the prince’s death they demanded Richard should be recognised as heir apparent.8 Ironically, this was the one matter on which Gaunt was in complete agreement, despite the rumours. When Parliament concluded on 10 July, a feast was held to mark the occasion, attended by most of the court including Edmund of Langley and Thomas of Woodstock, but from which Gaunt was noticeably absent.9 The Commons were triumphant in their exercise of will, leaving the prestige of the Crown in tatters. As the prince’s cortege wound its way to Canterbury at the end of September, it was accompanied by many who had been in the now dissolved parliament, as well as the courtiers and the royal family. It cannot have been a companionable journey.
Underlying the rumours about Gaunt’s designs on the throne was a renewed concern about the validity of the prince’s marriage, which raised the question of Richard’s legitimacy. It is impossible to determine who started the rumours or why they persisted so stubbornly, but there is no doubt that they were politically motivated. For decades the papacy had consistently used the Pope’s power to grant dispensations facilitating marriages to influence one or other side in the Anglo-French conflict, and the Pope’s alleged threat to declare Richard illegitimate after Limoges in 1370 was a clever ploy which served the purpose of weakening the English position at a time when the Pope was anxious to be seen as supportive to the French king. Similarly the rumour in 1376 that Gaunt was plotting with Charles V to secure a papal bull which declared Richard illegitimate not only increased Gaunt’s unpopularity but undermined unity in the court circle. These rumours would have been in circulation throughout the court as well as in Parliament and there can be no doubt that they would have been reported to Joan. She, more than anyone, knew just how vulnerable her marriage was to an attack of this kind. William Montague was still alive, and it was, of course, perfectly possible for the Pope to overt
urn his predecessors’ decisions and declare her marriage to the prince invalid, despite the effort that Edward III and the prince had made to ensure its validity. The prince himself had always been conscious of the threat, and his heartfelt plea to his father and brother on his deathbed to show favour to Richard reflected this, while demonstrating that he had absolute faith in their support for his son. But did anyone really intend to threaten it? William had never shown the slightest interest in doing so and on the contrary had remained on good terms with Joan and become a close ally of the prince. The charge laid at Gaunt’s door was also groundless. Although he was ambitious, and had the most to gain by doing so, he was genuinely and completely loyal to his father and brother, as well as sincerely fond of his sister-in-law, and he fully supported Richard, actively promoting his nephew’s interests after the prince died.
Nevertheless, Joan was deeply affected by the fear that Richard’s position was dependent on the legitimacy of her marriage, and she knew that how she was perceived could attract or repel support for him. Her role was crucial, and her good reputation vital. It was therefore natural for her to seek to nurture that good reputation, and deflect attention away from her, and this entailed staying aloof from the political arena. There can be no doubt that Joan, as the widowed Princess of Wales and mother of the heir to the throne, had enormous potential influence in public affairs. In addition, as the prince’s widow Joan was an exceptionally wealthy woman. She was now entitled to her own estates as Countess of Kent in her own right, and in addition she received one-third of his estates (in Chester, Cornwall and Wales, which between them brought in an annual income of around £8,600) as her dower, to enjoy for the rest of her life. Wealth brought with it power. Yet the only area where her influence and concern was apparent was for Richard’s personal safety and well-being. She wanted Richard to remain under her care, as she and the prince had discussed. In the months before his death, and on his deathbed, the prince had clearly indicated in his actions and his words that he wanted his wife and son to remain together. With Richard confirmed as Prince of Wales and heir to the throne it would have been appropriate for him to have had his own household, as his father and grandfather had done. Edward III could have chosen to appoint a guardian for the young prince, as had been done for Henry III, or placed Richard in the care of his uncle Gaunt. But the king, and Gaunt, had no intention of separating Joan from Richard. In October 1376, on Gaunt’s information, the king and his council, with Gaunt acting for his father, made orders for Richard to be created Prince of Wales, and confirmed Joan in her own estates and dower rights.10 The remainder of the prince’s estates went to Richard, and the young prince now had ample funds to support his own household and had his own receiver, John Fordham, while his tutor, Simon Burley, became chamberlain of his household. There was no suggestion that Richard should be removed from his mother’s household and given an independent establishment. His income was paid to Joan to recompense her for supporting him, and ‘in consideration of her great charges on his behalf after his father’s death, both before and after he was a prince’.11 Within a few weeks of the prince’s burial it was formally confirmed that Richard would remain with his mother, and Edward III paid £200 for his grandson’s expenses to Joan’s clerk William Fulbourne, the first of many such payments.12 While it was unlikely that anyone would have disagreed with the king over such a sensitive issue, the fact that there does not appear to have been a single dissenting voice about the arrangement also reflects the universal esteem with which Joan was regarded.