Bastard Prince

by Beverley A. Murphy

  Richmond’s eternal well-being was not entirely neglected. Under the regulations of the Order of the Garter, Richmond’s fellow knights were obliged to pay for masses for his soul.27 At no small inconvenience to himself, Arthur, Viscount Lisle, paid for services by the Greyfriars in Reading and the Friars of Calais. His passing was also commemorated as part of ceremonies of the Order of the Garter in May 1538, when a procession of nobility, led by the Earls of Sussex and Cumberland, bearing Richmond’s banner, marked his death in the traditional procession of the offering of the hatchments.

  But provision of a suitable tomb was apparently left entirely to the efforts and coffers of the Duke of Norfolk. In 1539, when Henry intended to dissolve Thetford Priory as part of the ongoing Reformation, Norfolk protested that he was in the process of providing two tombs for himself and Richmond, ‘which have already and will cost him ere they can be fully set up and finished, £400 at the least’.

  Henry did not react to Richmond’s death with lack of affection. To be occupied with the business of his son’s burial and memorial was to remind himself and those around him that he no longer had a son. Richmond’s loss was always going to be a bitter blow. Richmond was everything Henry could have wanted in a son and there is no doubt that he loved him. If after seventeen years he had also come to view the duke as an ever-present insurance policy for the succession, then his death must have been even harder to bear.

  The birth of Prince Edward in October 1537 gave Henry less reason to dwell on the loss of his bastard prince. Yet seventeen years of pride and affection were perhaps not so easily erased. The king’s fondness for Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, which resulted in a surprising degree of tolerance toward him in the face of concerted efforts by the Seymour family to blacken his name, was perhaps due to his close relationship with Richmond. However, if his sister, Mary, Duchess of Richmond, expected Henry would extend to her the same regard out of respect for his son’s memory, she was to be sorely disappointed.

  6

  Landed Magnate

  The Duke of Richmond had been no ordinary magnate. If a child of Richmond’s age had acquired his title by inheritance, he would have become a ward of the crown. His wardship and marriage would have been granted with more thought to the financial or political benefit to the king than the care and husbandry of his estates. An heir in wardship had the legal status of a child and responsibility for his lands and welfare was entirely at the discretion of his guardian. When men purchased a wardship in order to marry their own offspring to the heir or heiress, they at least had a vested interest in maintaining him and his property. Otherwise, it was not unknown for lands to be plundered and assets stripped as the guardian sought to accrue the maximum profit from his investment while the heir was in his power. Not until Richmond was granted licence from the king to enter into his estates, once he was considered of full age, usually twenty-one, would he have gained any legal control over his own interests.

  Yet from 18 June 1525, the six-year-old Duke of Richmond was treated as if he was an adult. He was not financially supported by his father, but instead expected to provide for himself from his own estates. He attended the king’s parliament like any other peer of the realm and he paid taxes like any other subject, parting with the sum of £90 on one occasion in 1536. When his rights were challenged he defended his title in the king’s law courts. Although both Thomas Wolsey and the Duke of Norfolk assumed a supervisory role over his lands and officers, Richmond was not in any legal sense their ward, not least because his own father was still alive. While it was not unusual for a royal prince to be granted a degree of autonomy at an early age, by rights Richmond’s experience should have been more like his uncle, George Blount, the ward of the Duke of Norfolk, or his half-brother George, Lord Tailbois, in wardship to William Fitzwilliam, Earl of Southampton, rather than that of an independent magnate.

  At his creation as Duke of Richmond and Somerset and Earl of Nottingham he was granted extensive lands and possessions. His estates would include over 120 manors in more than twenty counties across England and the Welsh Marches, granted in tail male to him and his legitimate heirs. Intended primarily to provide an income sufficient to support the new duke in a manner appropriate to his rank, Richmond could now expect to enjoy all the traditional rights of the lord of the manor. They were not simply rents and revenues. Leet and manor courts held in his name brought in additional fees. He was also entitled to other privileges such as the goods of felons and the appointment of preachers to his clerical benefices.

  His lands would also provide a range of other perks and income. Poole, in Dorset, was a source of alum, used for making paper and fixing dye. The Isle of Purbeck was famous for its stone, which was much in demand as a building material. In 1533 the oaks felled in Cheshunt in Hertfordshire over the previous five years had produced 1,200 cartloads of timber. Leases of both wind and water-mills provided another steady means for a lord to realise the value of his holdings. Bourne in Lincolnshire held three fairs every year. Parks were also a valuable means of patronage, both for the pleasure of the hunt and their supply of game. The gift of a side of venison was such a prized commodity that recipients often noted whether the compliment extended to a buck (which was larger) or a doe. Even rabbit warrens and fishponds were valued as much or their opportunities for sport as for their ever present supply of fresh food.

  The lands earmarked for Richmond were set out in letters patent dated 11 August 1525. With a stroke of the king’s pen he found himself the lord of numerous honours, lordships, manors and tenements which had formerly belonged to Margaret, late Countess of Richmond, her father John, late Duke of Somerset and their ancestors. It might seem that Margaret Beaufort’s death in 1509 had left a convenient vacuum, and there is some truth in this. Even the resources of the crown were not infinite and putting together an estate of this size was no easy task. Forty-three provisos and exceptions were required to protect the interests of those affected by Richmond’s grant, including the king’s own interests in the Duchy of Lancaster. Even so, the errors made in the statute supposed to confirm the endowment, where several manors were actually thought to be in the wrong county, reflect just how complicated the undertaking was.

  Nevertheless, Richmond was not simply given Margaret’s lands en bloc. He did not receive any of her estates in Leicestershire, Surrey or Wiltshire. He was also granted other property, most extensively his lordships in north Wales, which had not been part of her holdings. Nor had the possessions now granted to Richmond simply languished in the hands of the crown for the past sixteen years. In particular, Margaret, Countess of Salisbury, would actively challenge his right to the Manor of Canford in Dorset. As recently as March 1525, Sir William Courtenay had been granted the reversion of Coldharbour Mansion, a right he was now required to relinquish in favour of the duke. Even so, the mansion itself still remained in the hands of George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, at no small inconvenience to the duke. Seen in this light the composition of Richmond’s lands was obviously as much a matter of policy as practicalities.

  The management of such extensive holdings was a major responsibility. Stewards, bailiffs and farmers were required to oversee the lands. Secretaries, receivers, lawyers and other officials were needed to deal with general administration. A landowner also had a duty to take care of his tenants. Manorial courts were designed to dispense law and keep order, while the lord’s right of presentation of clerical livings touched their very souls. At the apex of all this activity stood the ducal household itself with its opportunities for advancement and employment. The direction and control of such widespread interests was no simple task for any established magnate and it was all the more complicated when that magnate was only six.

  The intention to treat the child as if he was an established peer would not always fit in with the realities of the situation. Richmond was surrounded with the officers and servants thought necessary to reflect the prestige of a duke. Most of these men had won their places by some connectio
n to Thomas Wolsey or through prior service to the crown. A few, like James Morice, who acted as Richmond’s general receiver, came naturally to his service from his prior association with Margaret Beaufort. Several stewards and bailiffs appointed by Henry VIII simply continued in their posts. In no sense was this an affinity in the traditional sense. The selection of these men did not stem from, or even consider, the wishes of the duke.

  Until June 1529 there was also further tension. Richmond’s household was not simply his private concern. It was the king’s Council of the North. The legal and executive business of his officers was a matter of government concern. In theory, the supervision of his lands, the rewards bestowed on his servants and the patronage exercised by the duke was his private business. Yet Wolsey’s role as his godfather and a minister of the crown meant that this line was rarely observed. That Richmond’s officers would report to Wolsey over the progress of the assizes at Newcastle or York was normal and expected. But it is hard to imagine the Duke of Norfolk’s or Earl of Northumberland’s officers approaching the cardinal for advice on what manner and form their Christmas and New Year celebrations should take.

  Some areas of Richmond’s affairs were naturally controlled by the crown. The appointment of a Nottingham pursuivantat-arms, ‘attending on the Duke of Richmond and Somerset’ was firmly the prerogative of the king.1 The appointment of George Lawson, the duke’s cofferer, as joint auditor of the three lordships of Middleham, Richmond and Sheriff Hutton in Yorkshire, was made by Henry VIII under letters patent. Richmond’s authority was not sovereign and both he and all his servants were still Henry’s dutiful subjects.

  Sometimes this could work to Richmond’s advantage. In July 1528 his father decided that Richmond’s schoolmaster Dr Richard Croke should be rewarded for his good service with a benefice valued at £24 per annum, which was presently in Wolsey’s hands. However, the cardinal had his own ideas as to who should benefit. Now the king summarily informed him that ‘it is too small a value to give to Master Wilson, or any other his chaplains, and this man had never anything’. Wolsey was plainly reluctant. In August Henry sent another message to ‘put you in rememberance’ that the benefice was to go to Richard Croke. Even when Richmond was older the king might also decide to be generous. In February 1531 he rewarded Richmond’s servant, Ambrose Skelton, with a grant of the land and rights to a ‘ferry and passage’ on the River Severn out of the king’s possessions in Gloucestershire.2

  The king was also the greatest source of power and protection. When even the most just title might be challenged, that Richmond looked to the crown to protect his and his servants’ interests was nothing out of the ordinary. In April 1528, when it appeared that his former chaplain William Swallow might lose the benefice in Devon which Richmond had recently bestowed on him, the duke had no hesitation in asking the king to intervene on his servant’s behalf, sending ‘this my writing penned with mine own hand’ to add weight to his request. Unfortunately for Richmond, his father also often chose to interfere in matters, which by right or courtesy should have been left to the duke.

  One such example took place in April 1527 when Richmond was seven years old. John Stackhouse, the bailiff of Richmond’s Manor of Cottingham in Yorkshire, died. The office was ‘in my Lord’s gift’. Not only did Richmond have every right to grant it as he saw fit, it was expected of a duke to demonstrate good lordship by rewarding his servants. His council wrote hopefully to Wolsey asking to be allowed to appoint George Hartwell to the post, adding the rather pointed request that in future any such vacancies ‘for the better encouraging of his said servants and chaplain to take pains in his service’ should be given to Richmond’s own officers. Yet in this case, as in many other instances, his council’s wishes were not respected. The post, which was worth £6 a year, went to Edward Vaux whom Henry VIII had also appointed as bailiff of another of Richmond’s manors in the area at Longton.

  Richmond’s own correspondence makes it clear that he had been told he could exercise his own patronage. The statute 22 Henry VIII c.17, which confirmed the lands entailed upon him, stressed that despite his tender years his authority was equal to any adult’s:

  Albeit the said Duke at the time of the making of any such gift grant or patent were and yet is within the age of 21 years in like manner and effect as if the same Duke at the time of the making of the same gifts grants leases and by him made had been of the full age of 21 years.3

  In reality, it was absurd that everything should be given over to the whims and wishes of such a young child. In theory Richmond’s council would exercise the guardianship of his interests in his name, gradually drawing the duke into the decision-making process as he grew older. In practice, these lawyers and clerics were painfully aware that the diminutive duke outranked them.

  The Tudor age contained no absolute rites of passage. A child of seven could contract a marriage, hold down a job and be held morally responsible for its actions. However, none of these made it an adult. Those who remained financially dependant, either on their master or a parent, could be classed as children well into maturity. A statute on apprenticeships dismissed any man under twenty-four as ‘without self judgment and not of sufficient experience to govern himself’. Medical and educational texts, the sort of work they were employed to do and the parameters of the law, all made some concessions to the fact that a child was not the same as an adult. Yet to society in general, the distinction between the two states was not simply a stage of life, but a reflection of perceived position in society.

  The respect due to authority took no account of age. It was widely accepted that children lacked the skills and experience to function effectively in the adult world. A child was taught ‘to submit [itself] lowly and reverently to all [its] betters’. However, a child of rank, whether he was a gentleman, an earl, a duke or a king, commanded exactly the same ‘reverence’ from his servants and inferiors as any adult counterpart. None of Richmond’s council would have been permitted to appear in his presence without removing their hats and observing the appropriate obeisance. The little duke might be persuaded, cajoled or completely circumvented, but his direct will could not be disobeyed by his councillors.

  To be fair, many of Richmond’s officers were genuinely concerned to see that his lands were well cared for and his household well run, in a manner befitting his status as the foremost peer of the realm. Unfortunately, neither the king nor Wolsey felt any compulsion to fall in with their wishes.

  Since none of Richmond’s council had any rank of their own to support their ‘requests’, conflicts did arise. John Uvedale, a former protégé of the Howards, had served as Richmond’s secretary since 1525. With the rise of Anne Boleyn, Uvedale found himself ever more in her service at court and away from the north. At his request, and with the agreement of Richmond’s council, John Bretton was appointed to act as his deputy in his absence. Then Uvedale was promoted and the king decided that Thomas Derby should take his place as secretary to the duke. In anticipation of Derby’s arrival, Bretton found himself another position in the south of England and effectively handed in his resignation to Richmond’s council.

  The council refused to accept it. They had no idea when Derby was supposed to arrive and ‘being desolate of any other person able to exercise the said room’ asked Bretton to stay on. To keep him there they promised that he might have all the profits arising from the position. It was a good deal for Bretton. As deputy he had been accustomed to paying all the ‘issues and profits remaining and growing of the same’ to Uvedale in return for a set fee. Now his income would be significantly increased. Needless to say, he stayed. However, neither Uvedale, nor indeed the king, was best pleased with this turn of events. Even though Uvedale was no longer Richmond’s secretary, Bretton was accused of stealing his rightful income and on 31 January 1528 he was ordered to be imprisoned in York Castle.

  At first Richmond’s council complied with the king’s order. However, on 9 March 1528 they advised Wolsey that ‘as the matter in
transit between him and John Uvedale be of no great weight or importance’ they had gone ahead and released him. Amid lurid descriptions of the ‘sore and contagious’ diseases, which had swept through the jail and sent fourteen of the prisoners to their death, they stressed Bretton’s frailty. Although they recited the measures they had taken to keep Bretton at York until the whole business was cleared up, they also offered a solution of their own. If the king insisted on giving the profits to Uvedale, which they believed Bretton had earned and genuinely deserved, then ‘we at our own cost and charge shall pay and sustain the same as we in performance of our promise be bound of good conscience to do’.

  Significantly, they were anxious that neither Wolsey nor the king should ‘think that ever we presumed to allocate any person to that room or office’ (surely exactly the sort of thing the duke’s council should have been doing). In reality, however earnestly they spoke of the trust and judgment that had been placed in them, these servants of the crown could not expect to command the level of consideration and autonomy which would be allowed to a duke. Perhaps because of this, even at this early stage, Richmond regularly wrote to the king on behalf of his officers in his own hand. Realising that the bailiff of his Manor of Torpell in Northamptonshire, John Brede, was ‘a man far in age’ the young duke asked ‘in my most humble and most lowly wise’ that the yeoman usher of his chamber, Robert Markham, might jointly hold the post, presumably with an eye to stepping into Brede’s shoes as his infirmity advanced.

  The extent of Henry’s involvement in Richmond’s affairs does seem to have exceeded normal bounds. In 1528 the duke again reminded his father that:

  My lord Legate’s grace of late signified unto me it was your high pleasure that when any like offices or benefices appertaining to my gift should chance to be voided that I by the advice of my council should dispose and give the same at my liberty.4