by David Loades
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up with her forces at Tewkesbury on 4 May. The result was even more lethal than Barnet. Prince Edward, the Earl of Devon and numerous other lords and gentlemen died on the fi eld of battle. Margaret and the Duke of Somerset were captured and the latter was executed on 6 May.
30 Edward re-entered his capital in triumph on 21 May, and that same night, ex-King Henry died in the Tower in mysterious circumstances but probably on Edward’s orders. Totally defeated, and with neither son nor husband left to her, Margaret remained in captivity in London until 1475, her plight only marginally alleviated by the efforts of her former waiting woman, Elizabeth, now Queen. When Edward signed the peace of Pequingy with Louis in the latter year, one of the conditions was that that the French King should take this unwanted dowager off his hands and she was ransomed for 50,000 crowns. Margaret renounced all claims in England and returned to France in January 1476. Her father, by now an old man, appears to have ceded his interests in Provence to Louis to secure her redemption and the King behaved decently towards his cousin. He made her renounce any possible claims that may have lingered from the days when she was theoretically queen of a large part of France and then made her an allowance of 6,000 crowns a year – the same that she had received before Henry’s ill-fated readeption. By this time Margaret no longer had even the semblance of a court although a few die-hard Lancastrians still clung to her. Her entourage is alleged to have consisted of three ladies and seven gentlemen. Among these were some of the faithful women who had served her as Queen and when she came to make her will in August 1482, just a few days before her death, one of the witnesses was Margaret Vaux, who had been widowed at Tewkesbury, just a few days before her mistress. Even in her years of misfortune, Margaret still had the capacity to inspire devoted service.
Despite the fact that we know quite a lot about her political activities and over 80 of her letters survive, there are aspects of Margaret’s personality that remain impenetrable. Her piety appears to have been conventional and the friendships that she formed mostly opportunist. Sex does not seem to have interested her. It took eight years of marriage to Henry before she conceived and after his collapse she seems to have lived a life of celibacy. The only scandal that ever touched her was a supposed liaison with the Duke of Suffolk in the 1440s and that was a mere slander aimed at Suffolk. She was quite unlike Catherine de Valois in that respect, being noted for her courage, cleverness and determination rather than for more typically feminine qualities. She was patroness of the Guild of Silkwomen, but did not, as far as we know, show any skill in that direction herself. She fi tted out ships at her own expense to trade into the Mediterranean but that was not a particularly feminine accomplishment either. For a few years 42
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she wielded, by the sheer force of personality, real political power in a way she was not supposed to do as a mere consort, and she dominated the husband she was supposed to serve and revere. Edward IV is alleged to have said that ‘he feared her more as a fugitive, and in want of the absolute necessities of life, than he did all the princes of the House of Lancaster combined’. As a consequence her historical reputation suffered severely, in England at least, and although George Chatellain’s Burgundian chronicle praised her generously, in England she is best known through Shakespeare’s plays. The chronicles from which the dramatist took his information were Yorkist and Tudor propaganda, where she appears as a termagent, cruel and cunning. In truth she was neither of these things, but circumstances did make a dominatrix, and as a mother she fought tooth and nail for the rights of her son. With a different husband and in other circumstances she might have been remembered more kindly but, as it is, she appears as an heroic and rather tragic fi gure, quite distinct from the other consorts of the period.
3
The Queen as Lover: Elizabeth Woodville Edward IV’s marriage to Elizabeth Grey (née Woodville) in 1464 created a highly unusual situation. Never before had a ruling king of England married one of his own subjects. The normal practice, both for rulers and potential rulers, had been to take a bride from one of the princely houses of western Europe, as had been the case with Margaret, Catherine, Anne of Bohemia or Philippa of Hainault. Henry Bolingbroke had married Mary Bohun long before there was any prospect of his becoming king and she had died by 1394. Edward the Black Prince had married Joan, daughter of the Earl of Kent, but he had never come to the throne at all. Consequently the normal protocols did not apply to Edward. There were no diplomatic hints, no cautious reactions and no complex negotiations. No dowry was in question and there were no foreign policy implications, except in a purely negative sense. The King of England had taken himself off the marriage market, so no alliance could be strengthened or peace mediated by that means. Neither Henry V nor Henry VI had seen the girls they were committed to until all the formalities had been completed and the nature of the relationship that followed had to be worked out step by step. Edward married Elizabeth because he wanted her and, if the rumours were true, had sought her as his mistress before he was constrained to marry her. In short their coming together was much more typical of the way in which ordinary young people met and fell in love than it was of a royal marriage – except in one very important respect. An ordinary bride was given away by her kinsfolk in a public ceremony, whereas in this case the marriage was kept so secret that it is not even certain that the bride’s father knew what was happening. Edward was a notorious womanizer and the story that Elizabeth defended her honour with a dagger is credible, but if she traded her body for the status of queen they both did pretty well out of the deal. In a marriage that was to last for 19 years, she presented him with no fewer than ten children, which means that she must have been pregnant or convalescent well over half the time, a factor that needs to be borne in mind when the rest of her activities are assessed.
Elizabeth was the elder daughter of Sir Richard Woodville, a gentleman of limited means who had been a household knight and servant to John, Duke of Bedford, the younger brother of King Henry V, who had died in 1435. He 44
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was apparently a very handsome young man, and the Duchess, Jacquetta of Luxembourg, held him in high esteem. So high, indeed, that shortly after the Duke’s death she married him. Jacquetta was the sister of the Count of St Pol, and came of the highest European nobility, so the marriage was a misalliance similar to that which Catherine de Valois had perpetrated in marrying Owain Tudur. There was, however, nothing morganatic about their union, which was publicly acknowledged, much to the rage of the Count and the rest of her family. She was, however, suffi ciently close to the royal family to have needed the King’s licence, and in March 1437 Sir Richard was fi ned the massive sum of £1,000 for having ignored that precaution and for livery of her dower, which was no doubt substantial enough to pay the fi
ne.1 By the time that happened Jacquetta must already have been pregnant with Elizabeth, who was born before the end of that year. The nature of her relationship with the duke is unknown but she had borne him no children and her need is plain. The fact that she proceeded to bear Sir Richard fi ve sons and six daughters tells its own story. Nothing very much is known about Elizabeth’s upbringing but she presumably received the conventional education of a young gentlewoman, strong on piety and the domestic virtues but not conspicuous for ‘book learning’. She was literate in English and probably in French, but not in Latin, which she only acquired partially and later. Despite her remarriage, her mother was still
persona grata at court. She was one of the noble ladies sent to escort the young Queen Margaret to England in 1445 and shortly afterwards managed to attach young Elizabeth to the Queen’s household as a demoiselle d’honneur. This would probably not have happened until she was of a marriageable age and can therefore be tentatively dated to 1449. She seems to have been a very attractive girl and was fi rst sought in marriage by Sir Hugh Johns. A
lthough Johns’s suit was promoted by both the Duke of York and the Earl of Warwick, he found no favour. Elizabeth apparently did not fancy him and his backers came out of the wrong political stable to fi nd any favour with Queen Margaret between 1450 and 1453, when this is alleged to have happened. In fact she was not rushed into marriage at all but, in about 1456, at the relatively mature age of 19, she married John Grey, the son and heir of Edward, Lord Ferrers of Groby. This was a very suitable match for a young lady of her status and connections and argues the management of Sir Richard and his wife, although Elizabeth seems to have been suffi ciently strong minded to veto the suggestion if the proposed groom had not appealed. Both Lord Ferrers and his son were good Lancastrians, and that mattered by 1456. Various manors in Northamptonshire and Essex were settled on the young couple and when Lord Ferrers died, on 18 December 1457, John inherited his title and with it
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the splendid estate of Bradgate in Leicestershire, where Elizabeth took up her residence. The new Lord Ferrers, however, was suffi ciently committed to the King to be a fi ghting man, and on 17 February 1461 was severely injured at the second battle of St Albans. He died of his injuries on the 28 February, leaving Elizabeth as a young widow with two small sons. More importantly, she was on the wrong side of the tracks. St Albans had been a Lancastrian victory and Margaret had recovered control of her husband. This had virtually forced the young Earl of March into advancing his own claim and, because he swiftly secured control of London, it was there that he was proclaimed on 4 March. For about three weeks there were two kings in England but Edward’s victory at Towton on 29 March proved decisive. The forces of Lancaster were reduced to a remnant, and Henry and Margaret became fugitives. Posthumously, Lord Ferrers became a traitor and his estate was forfeit. The Crown seized Bradgate, and Elizabeth and her family, in much reduced circumstances, were forced to retreat to her dower manor of Grafton. She was 24.
How much Edward may have known about Elizabeth at this point is not clear. He certainly knew Richard and Jacquetta and was on good terms with them in spite of the latter’s Lancastrian connections. In the fi rst year of his reign he made them a grant of £100 ‘by especial royal grace’ for no known reason apart from general goodwill, so it is entirely likely that he had fallen for the charms of their young widowed daughter well before he famously encountered her in 1464. At that time he was 22 and one of the most eligible bachelors in Europe. He had also been on the marriage market almost from the day of his birth. In 1445 his father had tried to match him with Princess Madeleine of France (then aged 18 months) and in 1458 he had been dangled under the nose of Philip of Burgundy. Neither of these approaches had been successful but in 1461 the Burgundian proposal had been revived, the target in this case being specifi cally Philip’s beautiful niece. That did not work either, but once Edward was on the throne the managerial Earl of Warwick tried to turn his unmarried status to political advantage, proposing fi rst an improbable union with the Queen Mother of Scotland and then another French princess. As recently as February 1464 Henry of Castile had taken the initiative of proposing his own sister. It may have been that the King found these pressures intolerable and resented the presumption of the Earl of Warwick but, in April 1464, he decided to take his destiny into his own hands. On his way north to deal with the Lancastrians who were later to be defeated at Hexham he stopped at Stony Stratford and on 30 April he slipped away from his entourage and rode over to Grafton Regis, where Richard Woodville was presumably expecting him. Meanwhile Elizabeth was mired in lawsuits as she strove to recover some part of the Grey inheritance. The trouble was that John had been on the wrong side 46
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and it was only by a personal appeal to the King that she could hope to obtain redress. Apparently she had done a deal with Lord Hastings to obtain access to Edward but in the event he came to her inst
ead.2 According to romantically inclined chroniclers they met very early in the morning in Whittlebury Forest near Grafton, by chance as it would seem. The reality is likely to have been more prosaic and they probably met at Grafton at a more seasonable hour, perhaps by Richard’s mediation but more likely by Jacquetta’s. As a result, Thomas Grey, her elder son, was recognized as his father’s heir, and Edward married Elizabeth in the presence of some half dozen people, including Jacquetta and the priest. Although the King’s action bears all the marks of spontaneity, it is highly unlikely that his decision was as unpremeditated as it was made to appear. He knew enough of Elizabeth to know that he wanted her and she knew enough of his intentions to be prepared for them. Where Edward made his mistake was in keeping quiet about what had happened. He had (it would seem) nothing to be ashamed of – except that he had torn up the rule book insofar as it applied to royal marriages. It was not until September, four months later, when he was being pressed to marry Bona of Savoy, that he confessed what had happened. Charles Ross described his marriage as ‘the fi rst major blunder of his political career’ and pointed out that he had no need to marry ‘this unsuitable widow’ in order to assert his independence from the Earl of Warwick’s control. If he had simply wanted to avoid the diplomatic entanglements of a foreign match, there were plenty of ladies available among the higher nobility. That, however, was not the point. He wanted Elizabeth and felt entitled to please himself.
‘Now take heed what love may do’ wrote the chronicler Gregory, ’for love will not nor may not cast no fault nor peril in no thing.’
3 He knew perfectly well that if he had asked the advice of his council, they would have told him that the idea was unacceptable – so he did not ask them. This was unconventional but not in any sense unlawful. It may also have been in his mind that his realm was full of powerful affi nities and if he had chosen his bride amongst the high aristocracy, he would inevitably have strengthened her kindred and offended others who felt equally deserving. There was a great deal to be said for looking right outside the system – and offending them all equally. Similar considerations applied to fi nding a bride abroad. If he had chosen within the Burgundian camp he could expect trouble from the French and if he had married a French wife the Duke of Burgundy would have been mortally offended. A Spanish or Italian princess might have resolved that issue but he did not want to look so far afi eld. There was a lot to be said for a queen whose kindred were unpretentious and could be used or not as the King might decide. As well as gratifying him sexually Elizabeth also provided him with a numerous
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family, which he could use or not as he chose, without having another powerful affi nity breathing down his neck. Although Edward paid a price for his unusual behaviour there really was quite a lot to be said for Elizabeth. However defensible the King’s actions may have been, they attracted nothing but disapprobation at the time. In describing the Council’s reaction to the news, Jean de Waurin wrote:
… they answered that she was not his match, however good and however fair she might be, and he must know well that she was no wife for a prince such as himself; for she was not the daughter of a Duke or an Earl, but her mother, the Duchess of Bedford had married a simple knight, so that although she was the child of a duchess and the niece of the Count of St.Pol, still she was no wife for him.
4 Edward must have expected this reaction. The reason for his delay in making the news public was less embarrassment at having acted on impulse than a desire to give her time to acclimatize herself to the idea before being exposed to the role of royal consort. In other circumstances he might have waited a lot longer, but in the summer Louis XI started signalling that he wanted closer contacts with England. He began, not perhaps very wisely, to fl atter the Earl of Warwick, seeing in him the real manager of English policy. It was through negotiations that were so initiated that the marriage offer of Bona of Savoy arose. Bona was not strictly a member of the royal family, being the daughter of the Duke of Savoy, but she w
as Louis’ sister in law, and thus of his extended kindred. The offer was attractive to Warwick, who made positive signals, but he was not authorized to negotiate so important a matter on the King’s behalf. The discussions were postponed, fi rst to 8 June and then until the 1 October. During September, therefore, Edward had to declare himself, and either issue instructions for the marriage to be concluded