Bastard Prince

by Beverley A. Murphy

  In 1534, Brereton had been part of an investigation into alleged irregularities under Abbot Robert Salisbury at the Abbey of Valle Crucis within the lordship of Bromfield and Yale. Far from being an impartial observer, Brereton seems to have been in the thick of things. The abbot of Cymer Abbey in Gwynedd offered him £40 if he could secure his transfer to Valle Crucis, which would necessitate Salisbury’s removal. It is entirely possible that the whole investigation was Brereton’s idea in order to achieve this end.14 In 1536 Brereton’s acquisition of certain tithes also looks suspiciously like a bribe. Such activities, especially when coupled with Brereton’s numerous offices, were inevitably going to attract Cromwell’s unwelcome attention.

  Richmond’s relations with Thomas Cromwell were generally good. When there was a problem with a grant to one of his gentleman waiters, John Travers, in respect of fishing in the River Bann in Ireland, the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland wrote to Cromwell to ask that he be allowed to enjoy it. When Henry VIII decided to grant Collyweston to Anne Boleyn, Richmond turned to Cromwell to ensure that the grant he had made to his gentleman usher, Anthony Drillard, to be bailiff and keeper there, would be honoured, advising the secretary ‘I being very loath he should be excluded’. When the exchange was effected (in the statute 27 Henry VIII c.21), a proviso was duly included to protect Drillard’s interests. He was still serving as bailiff there, earning 7d a day, when Richmond died in 1536. Although if this was an example of Richmond’s influence with Cromwell, it is also illustrative of Cromwell’s relationship with the duke. Some years earlier Drillard had secured his place in Richmond’s household by letters of recommendation from his patron Thomas Cromwell.

  As the king’s son, Richmond was in a unique position to require Cromwell’s assistance. Yet Richmond’s relationship with Cromwell was rather different from that with the king’s previous first minister. Thomas Wolsey’s indiscriminate interference in Richmond’s affairs had been done under colour of being both Richmond’s godfather and the minister responsible for the king’s Council of the North. Cromwell had no such excuse. Now that Richmond’s household was, in all practical senses, independent from the government of the north, there was no real reason for him to involve himself directly in the duke’s business. Also Richmond was no longer a child in the schoolroom. Accordingly, when the duke’s interests clashed with Cromwell’s envisaged programme of government reform, it was the minister who was required to tread carefully.

  On the surface, Brereton’s relations with Cromwell seem to have been reasonable. As late as May 1536, hearing a rumour that some religious establishments in Cheshire were to be suppressed, Brereton saw nothing wrong in hopefully lobbying Cromwell in expectation of even greater spoils. Brereton could count on some powerful supporters: not only was he Richmond’s steward, he also enjoyed the favour of the Duke of Norfolk, who acted as the overseer of his father’s will. If this was not enough, he was also a groom of the privy chamber and apparently well-liked by the king. It did not give Cromwell a lot of room for manoeuvre.

  In response to this latest development, plans now suddenly emerged for the Duke of Richmond, accompanied by the Duke of Norfolk, to make a progress up to Holt. The official reason was Richmond’s investiture as Lord of Holt. However the idea, which was probably Norfolk’s, would also allow the young duke to address the state of his affairs in person. Coming two weeks after Lee’s complaints, the timing was no coincidence. Ralph Broke was amazed that the dukes would make such a journey ‘now in the time of winter’. On one level it was obviously desirable that Richmond should redress problems within his jurisdiction in person. It was an effective way to rebuff Lee’s criticisms of mismanagement in his name and, to be fair, the problem of justice was not completely neglected. An agreement was reached for an exchange of prisoners between Powis and Chirk. However, the manner in which the progress was conducted and received suggests that the visit was also something of a political statement. Richmond was asserting his authority as an independent magnate and as such might have been perceived as striking a blow for the other marcher lords.

  As Cromwell intensified his efforts to eradicate the power of the marcher lordships, it is only natural that some of the lords began to look to the king’s son as their best hope for survival. As long as Richmond enjoyed his traditional rights and privileges, there was hope for them all. Despite the unseasonable time of year, his visit attracted attention. Ralph Broke was probably not the only man who put off other business to pay his respects. The people of Shrewsbury were particularly determined to make a good impression. The town bailiffs agreed to provide food and drink. The main street and both the bridges were scrubbed clean and Richard Clarke, a barber, was paid the princely sum of 2s 4d to ride out and give a warning when Richmond and Norfolk entered the county. As the two dukes entered the town they were greeted with a host of presents, including swans, calves, oxen and capons at a cost of £5 18s 2d.

  The townspeople were clearly prepared to spend a significant amount of time and money to secure Richmond’s goodwill. The extent to which Richmond’s influence would have been effective in blocking reform is less certain. On the one hand, the Act of Union in April 1536 was a measure of Cromwell’s resolve to effect change. On the other hand the minister’s determination to remove Brereton is an indication of how seriously he took the issue of Richmond’s authority in the Marches. It is entirely probable that the combined power of Richmond and Norfolk, together with the threat of Brereton in the privy chamber and close to the ear of the king, convinced Cromwell that no fundamental solution to the problem of the Marches would be possible as long as this status quo remained. Unfortunately, this conviction probably helped Brereton to the block.

  Not all historians are convinced that the extent of Brereton’s influence supports a conspiracy theory. Retha Warnicke makes the valid point that Brereton ‘was not the only powerful courtier in the region’. Others have dismissed him as a man who ‘carried little political weight’. Certainly he was not a major court player like Rochford. Even his removal from the Marches would not clear the way for political reform. However, perhaps it was a well-timed signal that resistance was not only useless, but dangerous. If Cromwell wanted to make an example to underline this point, then Brereton had certainly been annoying enough to be a prime candidate. One instance that must have particularly rankled occurred in 1534, when Brereton had used his influence to block Cromwell’s efforts to save the Flintshire gentleman John ap Gryffith Eyton from the gallows. Instead, the steward had had Eyton arrested in London and returned to Wales for execution. In the end it was not Brereton’s conduct as steward that provided Cromwell with the means to dispose of him. Indeed, if Brereton’s hope of patronage in May 1536 is any indication, he was totally unaware of what was about to happen.

  By this point the musician Mark Smeaton was already under arrest, accused of committing adultery with the queen. His arrest on 30 April was quickly followed by that of the courtier Henry Norris on 2 May. At this point Anne herself was dispatched to the Tower, having been informed that she was believed to have had adulterous relations with Smeaton, Norris and one other. In the event, Smeaton, Norris and three others were accused. These were Anne’s brother, George Boleyn, Lord Rochford, the courtier Francis Weston and William Brereton.

  The cloud of suspicion which blew up around Anne Boleyn gave the secretary the excuse he had previously lacked to move against Brereton. The evidence against all the supposed paramours of the queen is uniformly weak. This was a political coup, not a crime of passion. Indeed, Cromwell seems to have toyed with removing other members of the court. Both Sir Richard Page and Sir Thomas Wyatt made it as far as the Tower. Outside, several others waited anxiously to see if they would be the next to be implicated.

  A man who uses and abuses his power as Brereton did, was bound to make enemies. When cast as a man with a voracious sexual appetite, who had had several lovers as well as the queen, many were eager to believe his guilt. To his credit, Brereton did not claim to be an innocent
pawn. But he knew that he did not die for any of the reasons that had been rehearsed. On the scaffold he admitted ‘I have deserved to die if it were a thousand deaths. But the cause whereof I die judge not’. Cromwell no doubt rubbed his hands with glee. Far from protecting him, Brereton’s established links with the Howards could now only drag him down. To be accused of having cuckolded him was a sure way of removing any hope of assistance from the king and Brereton was left vulnerable and exposed, an easy target for the minister.

  It is impossible to measure how far Brereton’s loss would have affected the balance of power in the Welsh Marches. The rush of applications for his offices gives some indication of the vacuum he left. But Richmond’s own death shortly afterwards changed the picture so dramatically that the fate of the marcher lords seems to have been sealed. The duke’s loss was keenly felt. The steward of Ruthin was convinced that it was the ‘utter undoing of me and all the other Marches’. He was probably right. Richmond had not particularly striven to identify himself with the rights and causes of the government of the Marches. Yet while he lived, some degree of autonomy for the lordships seemed assured. In the climate of 1536 the reassurance this gave may well have been more apparent than real. However, after Richmond’s death there was little to stand in the way of even greater reform. Now the greatest marcher lord was the king.

  Any measure of the extent of the influence that Richmond was able to command is always inextricably bound up with his relationship to the king. Yet like any ‘good lord’ Richmond was keen to champion his officers in matters not directly related to his own affairs. When his gentleman usher, Thomas Delaryver, was accused of killing a stag on land belonging to the Abbot of Byland in 1534, Richmond was quick to defend him, claiming not only that his servant had been wrongfully accused, but also that the steward had gone ahead and indicted him against the wishes of the abbot. When another member of his household was having trouble securing his rightful inheritance, Richmond pointedly intervened expressing his wish for a speedy and successful conclusion. The duke may even have been instrumental in securing William Biddlecombe’s return to parliament as the Member for Poole. Certainly, Richmond subsequently wrote to Cromwell asking him to ‘give credence’ to the burgess.15 Until Richmond had greater control over the selection of his officers this cannot be seen as an affinity in the traditional sense, but it was clearly a role he aspired to.

  Richmond was also called on to fulfil other duties of a nobleman. He exchanged New Year gifts with several members of the court. On one occasion a standing cup with a cover, which Richmond had received from the king as part of his New Year gift, was sent to Elizabeth Stafford, Duchess of Norfolk, as her New Year gift. In 1534, probably as a favour to his servant, John Jenny, Richmond stood as a godfather. To mark the occasion Mistress Jenny’s infant was presented with the little silver salt that had been part of Anne Boleyn’s present to him at the New Year. When Mistress Amy got married in 1536, Richmond gave her another silver salt, this time part of the king’s New Year gift to him. When the Countess of Westmorland had a baby Richmond gave the noble child an appropriately more ostentatious gift of a silver gilt layer.

  The division between the actions of the duke and those acting in his name are sometimes difficult to discern. In theory this was not important, as long as the authority represented by the duke was respected. In practice, the decision to establish Richmond as an independent marcher lord raised questions of authority and control which seem more relevant to a minority government than a child in wardship. On the whole Richmond’s rank and status were respected. To any career-minded noble the importance attached to Richmond as a member of the peerage and the king’s son made his age somewhat irrelevant. Even the king was always careful never to deliberately override his actions, although, on several occasions Henry might well have required the intervention of his ministers to persuade him this was the prudent course.

  For his part, Richmond was obviously eager to be seen to be acting like a proper adult magnate – and it cannot be denied that his servants and officers were keen to encourage him to support their causes. It would be easy to blame his youth or ‘evil councilors’ for his rasher actions and occasional lapses in judgment. However, Richmond’s arrogance was also a factor and even in the later part of his life men like Cooke were able to exploit his desire to be seen to be exercising his authority. Maturity might have brought him better judgment, but it is unlikely to have tempered his ambition. Even at this age Richmond was more than willing to swim among the sharks of Tudor politics to further his affairs. As the stakes increased, that game had ever greater rewards.

  7

  Legacy

  The seventeen-year-old Duke of Richmond departed this world as he had entered it, in quiet obscurity. His life had been spent in pursuit of the model renaissance education. He had been schooled in the manners of a courtier and tutored in the arts of war. He was reported to favour the magnificence of his father in both looks and character and Henry’s affection for his son was widely known. Yet Richmond did not live to be a great general or statesman, he did not even enjoy the dubious notoriety of dying nobly on the scaffold, nor could he be revered for his martyrdom at the stake. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, he left no progeny to recommend him to posterity.

  It is difficult to find any enduring legacy. The only real portrait of Richmond is a miniature attributed to the Flemish artist Lucas Hornebolte. Even this shows the duke somewhat déshabillé, in just his shirt with the neck open and his hair covered with a finely decorated skullcap. Although this might easily be taken as a depiction of Richmond on his deathbed, it is more likely that this was intended as an aide-mémoire for the only other surviving image of the duke, in the illustrations included in the new register of the Order of the Garter produced in 1534. Richmond, with his red hair, is clearly visible in both the procession of the knights and on the left-hand side of the king in the grouping around the throne. While no such assembly, which included Francis I of France and James V of Scotland, ever actually took place, it is thought to be a good likeness of the English knights.1 This would explain his unusual attire. Since Richmond was to be portrayed in his Garter robes in the finished portrait, his features were all that were required.

  The fact that neither possessions nor portraits of the duke have survived can partly be explained by the normal economy of the Royal Household. Richmond’s clothes and furnishings were by and large reabsorbed into the king’s wardrobe. The expensive fur trimmings and gold laces from his robes were removed for use in other garments and the bedding, tapestries and other furnishings were recycled for use in some other household. Even those items which were spent and worn would be kept. Such pieces could be used to furnish the apartments of disgraced nobles in the Tower. Richmond’s gold and other valuables would have gone to the king’s jewel house, and there was a significant amount of this. His plate alone – pieces of gold, silver and silver gilt – filled four coffers and even that did not include ‘certain parcels which remain in the hands of the Duchess of Richmond’. There were also four blocks of gold and others of silver, as well as other jewels which remained with George Cotton. Much of this would have been lost as the pieces were melted down or broken up to be placed in new settings.

  Part of his goods were immediately granted away. If Richmond had been an adult magnate, he would have been expected to reward and remember his friends in his last will. It was customary to provide his servants with lengths of black cloth for funeral clothing and wages commensurate with their years of loyal service. The few gifts made out of Richmond’s goods did not really compare, but they may not necessarily have reflected the wishes of the duke. Two days after his death John Gostwyk began an extensive inventory of the duke’s goods. Even as he was taking the inventory Gostwyk asked that he might be allowed to buy a mule ‘which I have already in my custody . . . for she is too little for the King’s Highness’.

  It was probably the king’s decision to deliver several parcels of silver gilt to ‘my Lady�
��s Grace’, probably Mary Tudor. Richmond would no doubt have approved of his half-brother, Lord Tailbois, having his green taffeta and velvet coat. The horse with its saddle and harness of black velvet, which was given to Surrey, was most likely Richmond’s own. His widow, Mary Howard, was allocated a few bits and pieces, including two solid silver spoons and one silver gilt spoon, but how Viscount Lisle came by one of Richmond’s chairs is less clear.

  Richmond did not leave the sort of grand building enterprises that proclaimed the power and wealth of his elders to the world. He displayed no real delight in scholarship. Indeed, according to the inventory of his goods, all the books in his household were strictly for religious services, so it is hardly fair to expect any examples of poetry or polemic. If he inherited his father’s love of music, it was as a performer rather than a composer. If he had loved art with the same passion that he reserved for sport and hunting, then the relics he left behind him might have been more numerous.

  The extent of Richmond’s influence is perhaps more easily weighed in the void left by his death. The most immediate and pressing problem was the redistribution of his offices. Any hopes that Norfolk harboured of regaining his former position as Lord Admiral were quickly dashed. That post went to a rising privy councillor, Sir William Fitzwilliam. Instead, Norfolk was sent to Sheriff Hutton to quell the mounting disorder in the north. Another star in the ascendant, Sir Edward Seymour, was given the office of chancellor and chamberlain of north Wales, which Richmond had recently acquired from the condemned Henry Norris. Sometimes the solution was simple and straightforward. The former deputy-captain at Berwick, Sir Thomas Clifford, slipped seamlessly into Richmond’s office as captain of the town and castle. However, not all the vacancies were so easily filled.

  Despite Richmond’s apparent lack of involvement in the mechanics of government in Ireland, his sudden death caused immediate repercussions. The Irish parliament had been in the midst of a session, called under his authority as Lord Lieutenant. Now that he was dead, the concern was expressed that his authority was no longer valid and ‘the authority of the Parliament was extincted and all acts in the same Parliament ensuing . . . [were] faint and void in law’. Since the Parliament had dealt with a number of important matters relating to church and state, it was suggested a new commission should be sent over to ensure the acts were fully ratified in law. After some deliberation, Cromwell decided the statutes were perfectly valid. However, the decision not to appoint another Lord Lieutenant of Ireland is evidence that Richmond’s particular usefulness to his father was not easily replicated in other men.