Now at last the government decided to negotiate, nominating for the task Archbishop Kemp - himself a man of Kent - and William Waynflete, who had succeeded Beaufort as Bishop of Winchester. These two met Cade at St Margaret's church, Southwark, where they received his petitions, granting to him - in the name of John Mortimer — and to all his followers a free pardon on condition that they should at once disperse peacefully to their homes. Many did so; a number of others, however, persuaded by Cade that their pardons were worthless until they had been ratified by Parliament, followed him to Rochester and attacked Queenborough Castle on the Isle of Sheppey. This was his second mistake. A bill of attainder was immediately issued against him, this time in the name ofjohn Cade, his pardon being simultaneously declared invalid since it applied specifically to Mortimer. Suddenly, his support evaporated. He fled in disguise to East Sussex - where a few days later the recently appointed Sheriff, one Alexander Iden, ran him to earth in a garden at Heathfield. Cade defended himself as best he could, but was killed resisting arrest; on 15 July his body was delivered to the Council who ordered it to be drawn and quartered, the quarters being sent respectively to Blackheath, Salisbury, Gloucester and Norwich. The head was impaled on a lance and exhibited on London Bridge, facing towards Kent. Shortly afterwards a tribunal - which included both Archbishops — sat in judgement over the insurgent leaders at Canterbury. Eight of them were sentenced to death.
But Henry did not have long to enjoy his triumph. At the end of August Richard of York returned, without permission, from Ireland. On landing in Wales, he immediately summoned considerable numbers of retainers from the Welsh marches and advanced with them on London. His reception was anything but friendly: the panic-stricken Council denounced him as a traitor and even tried to hold him responsible for the recent insurrection, while more than one attempt was made to to waylay him on the road; but he now had some 4,000 men under his command, and such attempts were doomed to failure. Once in London he went straight to the palace and in face of heavy opposition forced his way into the King's chamber, where he complained angrily of the hostility with which he had been received. Henry could justifiably have retorted that his cousin had left his post without authorization, and had shown every sign of intending to bear arms against him; but that was not Henry's way. Instead, he expressed deep regret for what had occurred and instantly agreed to appoint a new Council, in which York himself should be included.
Unfortunately the King had recently taken another decision, of which few but he would have been capable: he had recalled Somerset from Calais, whither the unfortunate man had fled after his expulsion from Caen, and appointed him Constable of England. Now Somerset was, in the eyes of every Englishman, the man who had lost France; in consequence he was perhaps the most hated figure in the country -and he was particularly detested by Richard of York, who saw him as a dangerous rival for the succession. Since the death of Duke Humphrey, this had been far from clear. After five years of marriage, King Henry was still childless: his three uncles - Clarence, Bedford and Gloucester — had all died without issue. Of the House of Lancaster there remained only the Duke of Somerset, grandson of John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford, and his little niece Margaret, the daughter of his late elder brother. Normally, such distinguished lineage would have given Somerset a virtually incontestable claim; the difficulty was that Henry IV, when he legitimized his Beaufort half-brothers, had by special Act of Parliament expressly disqualified them and their descendants from the line of succession. The case for Richard of York, on the other hand, though weaker in that he could boast descent only from Gaunt's younger brother Edmund, was stronger in that it was untainted with bastardy and free oflegal embarrassments. Moreover, through his mother Anne Mortimer, York could claim descent from Gaunt's elder brother, Lionel Duke of Clarence. There was no doubt that the court favoured the Lancastrians, but the unpopularity of the government in general and of Somerset in particular had turned public opinion sharply towards the Yorkists. Jack Cade had not adopted the name of Mortimer for nothing.
As autumn turned to winter the hostility between the two parties steadily increased, to the point where on i December Somerset was physically attacked by a Yorkist mob, his life being saved only by the providential appearance of the Earl of Devonshire, who in the nick of time carried him off down the river by barge. Meanwhile his house, together with those of several other leading Lancastrians, was sacked and plundered. Fearing for his future safety, the King quickly appointed him Captain of Calais; but even this did not prevent Parliament, in January 1451, from demanding his banishment, with that of some thirty other court favourites — demands which Henry largely ignored. Just thirteen months later, in February 1452, Richard of York issued an appeal from his castle at Ludlow. Somerset, he declared, having already been responsible for the loss of Normandy and Guyenne, was using his influence with the King in such a way that England itself was likely to be destroyed; and he now called upon the people of Shrewsbury — 'though it is not my will or intent to displease my sovereign lord' — to help him to remove the Duke from the scene once and for all. Many of them rallied to his banner, and with them he set off on his second armed march to London.
Careful as always to emphasize his loyalty, 'at about Shrovetide’ York sent heralds to request formal permission to enter the city; and when, predictably, this was refused he crossed the Thames by Kingston Bridge and continued into Kent - where recent history suggested that he might find considerable popular support - pitching his camp at Dartford. Henry meanwhile advanced to Blackheath on i March, sending forward Kemp, Waynflete and the Bishop of Ely to negotiate an accord. They did so quite quickly; Somerset was becoming increasingly unpopular, and there were many on the King's side who were almost as eager as York to see the last of him. It was therefore agreed that he should be put under arrest, in return for which York immediately disbanded his army and rode to Blackheath to confirm the understanding personally with the King. Entering the royal tent, however, to his astonishment he found Somerset not only at liberty, but standing as usual at Henry's right hand. Despite the King's presence there was a furious altercation between the two men; but York, himself now virtually a prisoner, dared not go too far. He was obliged to return with Henry to London, and there in St Paul's to swear a solemn oath that he would never again assemble any body of men without the King's commandment or licence. Somerset's position, and his power, remained unchanged.
What was the reason for so blatant a breach of faith? Had the negotiating bishops exceeded their briefs, giving undertakings and making promises for which they had no authority? Had Queen Margaret, Somerset's principal supporter, put her foot down and positively forbidden her pathetic husband to dismiss her favourite? Or had Somerset himself somehow persuaded his royal master to change his mind? We shall never know. The only point on which we can be certain is that Richard of York considered, with good reason, that he had been deceived and betrayed. From that moment his much-proclaimed loyalty was weakened, and England was brought another step nearer to the inevitable war.
In the summer of 1453, taking advantage of a period of relative calm, King Henry VI went hunting at Clarendon in the New Forest; and it was there, in July or August - 'by a sudden and thoughtless fright', as one chronicler rather obscurely puts it — that he was stricken by a malady which left him both physically and mentally incapacitated, 'so lacking in understanding and memory and so incapable that he was neither able to walk upon his feet nor to lift up his head, nor well to move himself from the place where he was seated'. It did not escape those around him that these symptoms were all too similar to those displayed by his grandfather, Charles VI of France, during his own ever more frequent periods of insanity towards the end of his life - a fact which boded ill for the future. The King remained at Clarendon until early October, when he was carried by slow stages first to Westminster and then on to Windsor, still too apathetic to understand the great news that was brought to him on the 13 th: that, after eight years of marriage, Queen Marg
aret had at last presented him with a son. Elsewhere, however, there was less cause for rejoicing. The previous July had seen the deaths at Castillon of the two brave Talbots, father and son, after which the English hold on Guyenne, already tenuous, had collapsed altogether. By the end of the year the whole province was back in French hands.
These two last developments dramatically changed the situation. The birth of the prince, who had been baptized by Bishop Waynflete with the name of Edward, came as a shattering blow to Richard of York. His hopes of a peaceful succession, which had seemed considerably brighter since the King's illness, were now destroyed. His only consolation was that those of Somerset had suffered a similar fate; but Somerset's star was anyway on the wane. With the loss of Guyenne by now inevitable he was rapidly losing influence, to the point where he was not even to be considered for the post of Regent which, with the King's continuing illness, was soon to be accepted as a necessity. Finally, in November 1453, at the insistence of York's ever-faithful ally the Duke of Norfolk, he was put under arrest and committed to the Tower.
By this time the King was at Windsor. His condition showed no improvement. When in January 1454 Queen Margaret and the Duke of Buckingham brought his son to his bedside for his blessing, he stared blankly at the baby but gave no sign of recognition or understanding. It was at this point that Margaret demanded that she should be entrusted with the government; the Council, however, would have none of it. As far as they were concerned the Queen was too young, too inexperienced and a great deal too ambitious; besides, she had identified herself too closely with Somerset. Two months later, however, after a committee of Lords had visited Windsor to report on Henry's health, it was decided that government could no longer continue without an official Act of Regency; and on 27 March York was appointed Protector until the King's recovery or the Prince's coming of age. Immediately he began to consolidate his position: as Chancellor, in place of the Cardinal-Archbishop William Kemp, who had died a few days before, he nominated his wife's brother, Richard Nevill, fifth Earl of Salisbury.1 Another relation by marriage, Thomas Bourchier, Bishop of Ely — his brother, Lord Bourchier, was married to York's sister Isabella - became Archbishop of Canterbury.
Richard of York governed the kingdom wisely and well during his protectorship; but it did not last long. Around Christmas 1454 the King recovered from his illness, and on 30 December looked consciously upon his son — now fourteen months old — for the first time. Showing every outward sign of relief, York immediately resigned his office; but with the King once again in charge of affairs and the Queen behind him it was only to be expected that the pendulum should swing back towards the Lancastrians. Somerset was released from the Tower, all the charges against him having been dropped; Salisbury was dismissed as Chancellor in favour - somewhat surprisingly — of Archbishop Bourchier, who never hesitated to trim his sails when the need arose; while York, by a final stroke of irony, was obliged to relinquish the Captaincy of Calais to Somerset himself. Prudently, he and Salisbury retired to their Yorkshire estates. So too did Salisbury's son, Richard Earl of Warwick, whom York had appointed a Privy Councillor and who six years before had inherited through his wife, Anne Beauchamp, the first and by far the richest earldom of England.
As the weeks passed it became ever more clear that the King's restoration to sanity had been a national disaster; and in May 1455, with the country slipping slowly into chaos, Somerset — who had obviously learnt nothing from adversity — and the Queen called a Council at Leicester 'to provide for the safety of the King's person against his enemies'. Since they had pointedly omitted to summon York, Salisbury
1. Nevill had inherited his title through his wife Alice, the only child of the fourth Earl, who had died of a wound sustained before the walls of Orleans.
and Warwick to this assembly, there was little doubt as to whom they had in mind; and it was now that the three decided to act while they were still at liberty. Their army was already prepared, and a few days later they were on the march. From Ware in Hertfordshire the Duke of York dispatched a letter to the Chancellor, Archbishop Bourchier, protesting his loyalty and emphasizing that his only purpose was to remove Somerset; but the letter was intercepted and never reached its destination. On the very same day the King and Queen, with Somerset and Buckingham and a slightly smaller force of about two thousand, set out from London, resting for the night at Watford; and the following morning - it was Thursday 22 May - the two armies met at St Albans. For three hours York and his friends tried to convince the King of their loyalty, asking only that certain persons, whom they would accuse of treason, should be delivered into their hands — past experience having unfortunately shown that mere promises, even when made on oath, were not to be trusted. Only when they received the King's reply, to the effect that he would surrender no one and that all who resisted him would be executed as traitors, did York give the order to advance.
It was rare, in the late Middle Ages, to fight a battle within a city or a town; normally a neighbouring field was preferred. The first battle of St Albans was an exception. The royalist army was drawn up along St Peter's Street and Holywell Hill, running from St Peter's church to the river Ver. York's first attack — from what are now Hatfield Road and Victoria Street — failed, but Warwick attacked from the gardens between two inns (the Key and the Chequer, now the Cross Keys and the Queen's Hotel) and after an extremely bloody encounter put the King's men to flight. Somerset was killed outside the Castle Inn; two of his principal supporters, Northumberland and Clifford, fell close by. Buckingham, blood streaming from his face, sought sanctuary in the abbey (now the cathedral). Henry himself, totally bewildered, deserted by his men and wounded in the neck by an arrow, was left standing helplessly by his banner in the market place until he was eventually persuaded to seek refuge in a tanner's house nearby. There he was finally found by York, Salisbury and Warwick, who knelt before him and carried him to the abbey for safety. Their followers', meanwhile, were less respectful — terrorizing the city and pillaging it to their hearts' content, while three hundred men lay dead in the streets.
But the battle of St Albans was more than just a battle; it was the start of England's first civil war - that civil war that has gone down in history as the Wars of the Roses.
King Henry VI Part II
[1441-1455]
KING.
Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better;
For yet may England curse my wretched reign.
KING HENRY VI PART II
The Second Part of King Henry the Sixth opens in April 1445, more than eight years before the latest event covered by its predecessor - the death of the Talbots in the high summer of 1453. It contrives, none the less, to follow naturally on Part I, in the closing scene of which the Duke of Suffolk prepares to leave for France to fetch King Henry's royal bride; as the curtain rises on Part II he announces the successful outcome of his mission and presents her to her bridegroom and the assembled court. Almost immediately, however, the tension rises: Duke Humphrey of Gloucester begins to read the terms of the truce, but when he comes to the words '. . . that the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be releas'd and deliver'd to the King her father' they appear to choke him and he is unable to continue; it is left to Cardinal Beaufort to finish the sentence.
As Beaufort points out a few moments later, Duke Humphrey was at this point still the heir apparent; it was in his interest that the King should remain unmarried and childless. Moreover, if marriage there had to be, the Duke had long favoured the daughter of the Count of Armagnac as a more suitable bride. To this extent he had good reason to be annoyed at the choice of Margaret. On the other hand — and the point cannot be too strongly emphasized — the surrender of Maine and Anjou, though widely rumoured at the time and reported by Hall, was never part of the truce.1 The rest of the scene, therefore, after the departure of Henry and Margaret for her coronation, is based on a misapprehension:
1. See pp. 230-31.
historically, Glouc
ester could never have made the loss of the two territories the main reason for his attack on Suffolk. The latter was consequently able to brush off the accusations made against him and -after the deaths in 1447 of the two arch-enemies Gloucester and Beaufort — to gain effective control of the kingdom. (It is perhaps just worth mentioning that Shakespeare considerably anticipates his investiture with the dukedom, which he received only on 2 July 1448.) During the three years before his fall, Suffolk was to prove himself a responsible statesman and an excellent administrator. Ambitious he may have been; but he was certainly not the power-hungry megalomaniac suggested by the closing lines of Part I and quoted at the end of Chapter 12.
Among the nobles echoing Gloucester's disgust is the Earl of Warwick, who claims to have been personally responsible for acquiring the provinces now lost:
Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both;
Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer:
And are the cities, that I got with wounds,
Shakespeare's Kings Page 29