For Richard, Clarence’s treatment merely underlined, in comparison, his somewhat lowly status. During the 1460s, as a young child, he had had to patiently wait his turn: while Clarence was made a duke on the eve of the coronation, Richard’s own creation as duke of Gloucester was delayed several months; Clarence had been one of the first additions to the ranks of the Order of the Garter, yet Richard had to wait five years until he joined the order. Many of the lands that Edward had initially provided for Richard, much smaller in size than Clarence’s, were later to be taken from him, as politics and patronage required a redistribution of the royal grants; even the title of Great Chamberlain, gifted to Richard, was removed from him when Clarence demanded that the office should be his. Clarence always seemed to get what he wanted; Richard, on the other hand, was treated as if his interests were dispensable.
Still Clarence wanted more. Since his wife Isabel’s mother, Anne, the countess of Warwick, had lodged in sanctuary at Beaulieu, the duke had taken Isabel’s younger sister, Anne, into his household for her protection. Anne was now the widow of the young Prince Edward, and had just turned fifteen in June 1471. Clarence’s altruism was little more than skin deep. He had hoped to keep the entire inheritance of the earl of Warwick to himself. To achieve this, he needed to ensure that Anne’s rights were denied. As her mother was in sanctuary, Anne had no one to represent her own interests. Faced with being left in a captive limbo, the only way that she would be able to secure her inheritance was through marriage. In order to do so, she would need a husband powerful enough to face up to Clarence. Only the king’s brother Richard, her father’s original choice for her marriage, would suffice. Whether Richard himself had become acquainted with Warwick’s daughter already is unknown, though their proximity during the banquet held in honour of George Neville in 1465 suggests that they must have been familiar with one another.
Realising what his brother was attempting to achieve by confining Anne, probably at his London house, Coldharbour, near Dowgate, Richard knew he would have to act fast in order to prevent Clarence from subsuming the entire Warwick and Despenser inheritance to himself. He must have also known that it would only be through marriage that he might finally break his dependence upon royal favour, and found his own inheritance and personal stability. It was obvious that no potential wife offered a greater inheritance than Anne Neville.
Exactly when Richard decided that he would marry Anne Neville is uncertain; however, the duke departed the capital in August 1471, travelling to Norwich on 23 August, before journeying to the north for the rest of the autumn and winter, where grants confirmed by Richard are dated 4 and 6 October, 20 November and 11 December. Richard, the Crowland chronicler wrote, had sought Anne’s hand in marriage shortly after the death of Prince Edward at Tewkesbury; ‘this proposal, however, did not suit the views of his brother, the duke of Clarence … such being the case, he caused the damsel to be concealed, in order that it might not be known by his brother where he was; as he was afraid of a division of the earl’s property, which he wished to come to himself alone in right of his wife, and not to be obliged to share it with any other person’. Yet Clarence had underestimated his younger brother, whose ‘craftiness’ enabled Richard to scout out where Anne had been hidden. Discovering her in the city of London, ‘disguised in the habit of a cookmaid’, Richard removed Anne to the sanctuary of St Martin’s le Grand, located between the Guildhall and St Paul’s.14
Clarence was furious. Richard was attempting to take from him and his wife a share of lands they had already entered possession of, challenging his right of inheritance that seems to have already been accepted by the king. The Milanese ambassador wrote how, ‘because his brother King Edward had promised him Warwick’s country’, Clarence ‘did not want the former [Richard] to have it, by reason of the marriage with the earl’s second daughter’.15 For Richard to marry Anne and claim her share of the Warwick inheritance went not just against common law, but against canon law too. As was often the case with interwoven family ties between the nobility, Richard and Anne were related: as first cousins, the couple were related in the second degree, while Clarence’s marriage to Anne’s sister, Isabel, had added further complexity in the legality of Richard’s relationship with Anne. As brother- and sister-in-law, Anne and Richard were now related in the first degree of consanguinity. Any relationship between them would have been considered shocking, while also unlikely if not impossible to have secured a dispensation: Warwick had struggled to obtain permission for his daughter Isabel to marry Clarence, related in the second degree of consanguinity. Yet Richard was undeterred in applying to the papacy for a dispensation. ‘Richard, duke of Gloucester, layman of the diocese of Lincoln, and Anne Neville, woman of the diocese of York, wish to contract marriage between them’, the request states, ‘but as they are related in the third and fourth degrees of affinity, they request a dispensation from the same’. It succeeded: Richard’s wishes were finally granted by the pope in April 1472.16
Edward attempted to mediate between the two brothers. Clarence told the king bluntly that Richard was welcome to Anne, if only he could keep her lands. A month later, Clarence finally conceded to his brother’s demands, but only after a deal was struck, granting Clarence the titles of earl of Warwick and Salisbury, and the office of Great Chamberlain of England, previously held by Richard. In return, the entire Warwick inheritance was to be divided, leaving Clarence with only the Neville lands in the West Country and the west Midlands. The warrant itself was signed not by the authority of the council, but with the king’s own signature, testament to his personal interest in resolving the fraternal dispute.17
The eventual division of lands between the two brothers, the Crowland chronicler observed, ‘left little or nothing at the disposal’ of their wives’ mother, Anne, the countess of Warwick.18 In late 1472, the countess petitioned Parliament, beseeching them to ‘weigh in your consciences her right and true title of her inheritance’ of the earldom of Warwick and the Despenser lands, ‘to which she is rightfully born by lineal succession’.19 No one listened to her pleas. Now the countess believed that she was effectively under house arrest, being confined to sanctuary by force.
In May 1473, Richard, growing frustrated at Clarence’s delay in implementing the king’s agreement, decided to take matters into his own hands. If he was unable to gain Clarence’s permission to enjoy the lands of his wife’s mother – those that belonged not only to the Neville family, but the countess of Warwick’s Despenser inheritance also – he had no choice but to take them by force. With the king’s apparent consent, Richard ordered that the countess be escorted from her sanctuary, to join Richard’s household in the north. Rumours circulated that the countess, having been restored to her lands, had granted them entirely to the duke, her new son-in-law, tales at which, as one contemporary wrote, ‘folks greatly marvel’.20 It may be that the countess’s removal was at her own accord; John Rous later wrote how she had ‘fled’ to Richard ‘as her chief refuge’, while Anne may have also had a part to play in her mother’s removal, with Rous describing her mother’s treatment as Anne’s ‘choice’.21
In the end, Parliament gave her lands to be split between George and Isabel, and Richard and Anne. The dowager countess of Warwick was to be treated, the Act continued, as if she ‘were now naturally dead’: she was to be ‘barrable, barred and excluded’ from any of her late husband’s possessions and lands.22
The frailty of Richard’s claim to the Neville inheritance, first acknowledged as a royal grant in 1471, is key to understanding the duke’s own ambitions and insecurities. Richard had fought desperately to obtain the inheritance of the earl of Warwick, but the laws of inheritance had foiled him from making the lands entirely his own. Richard could not prevent the fact that the Neville lands had been settled down the male line of Richard Neville, the earl of Salisbury, which passed to his son Richard Neville, the earl of Warwick. Since Warwick only had two daughters, the line of succession passed to his brother, John,
marquess of Montagu, and his male heirs, of which the young George Neville, the duke of Bedford, born in 1465, was Montagu’s only son. The male line of succession then passed to Warwick’s third brother, George, the celibate archbishop of York, then to the male line of Salisbury’s brother, George, Lord Latimer.
Of course, the natural line of male succession had been broken by Warwick’s and Montagu’s deaths as traitors at the battle of Barnet. Edward had intended to attaint them both, confiscating their property, which would then be given to Richard as a royal grant. This was essentially what occurred with Edward’s July 1471 grant of the Neville property to Richard, despite the fact that Warwick and Montagu had not been attainted. Yet it suited neither Richard nor Clarence for Warwick or Montagu to be officially attainted, since they would lose their own rights of inheritance through their wives to the lands; even if they were re-granted to them, it would be by royal grant only, with all the uncertainty of tenure that this involved – it would be in the king’s gift to revoke the grant at his pleasure.
One thing both brothers could agree upon was their mutual desire to have the security of inheriting their wives’ shares of the earl and countess of Warwick’s lands. Yet if Warwick’s and Montagu’s lands were to remain unattainted, then this meant the claims of the male line of succession of the Neville family still stood, with Montagu’s son, George Neville, able to lay claim to the lands upon his majority. In order to prevent this from happening, nothing less than an Act of Parliament would be needed to settle a new line of inheritance upon the lands.
In early 1475, Richard secured an Act that gave the Neville lands to him by right of inheritance of his wife, Anne. The Act barred the rights of Montagu’s son, George Neville, and instead passed the lands direct to Richard and Anne to enjoy, as long as George continued to survive and produce a male heir. The real heirs of the Neville inheritance, the Act claimed, were the heirs of Richard, earl of Salisbury, who could not be penalised as they themselves had committed no offence to justify forfeiture. If George Neville were to die without any living male child, then Richard was to ‘have and enjoy’ the Neville lands for the ‘term of his life’ only; he would be unable to pass the lands to his heirs. Instead, they would pass down the male line of succession of the Neville family, to Richard Neville, Lord Latimer, then just a child of four.23
Why Richard agreed to these terms is unknown, except that it may have been the only way he could secure a share of the tail male estates by right of inheritance rather than royal grant. Possibly Richard calculated that George was young enough to live on to marry and continue the male line of succession, allowing him to continue to hold the lands.
Richard was in fate’s hands: if the young George Neville were to die without any male heirs, Richard and Anne’s possession of the Neville lands would revert to a life interest, disinheriting Richard’s own dynasty.
Family divisions between the brothers seem to have been contained by Edward’s decision to invade France in 1475. His ‘Great Enterprise’ offered both Clarence and Richard the opportunity for military glory. Both raised thousands of men for what was the largest English invasion to set foot on the continent, with Richard alone bringing 3,000 of the 14,000 troops assembled. Yet the launch of this new crusade ended in bitter disappointment for those hopeful of armed combat. Weeks into the expedition, Edward instead preferred to sign a treaty at Picquigny with the French king, Louis XI, who effectively bought himself peace with England, lavishing pensions worth tens of thousands of pounds upon Edward and his noblemen. Richard refused to be present at the signing of the treaty at Picquigny, with the chronicler Philippe de Commynes stating that he was ‘mal content’ with the arrangement, though it seems that the duke may have been inspecting French troops at the time. Likewise Richard refused to be kept in the pocket of the French king, even if he would later accept a present of a large cannon from Louis, along with horses and costly plate.24
Having marched his country to war, raising taxes to pay for troops and equipment, Edward knew that he would face trouble at home. ‘There is no doubt that there was deep anxiety in the king’s heart over this state of affairs’, the Crowland chronicler wrote, ‘and that he was not unaware of the condition of his people and how easily they might be drawn into rebellions and strange schemes, if they were to find a leader.’25 Picquigny led to popular discontent that Clarence may have hoped to use to his advantage. In late September, the Milanese ambassador to the Burgundian court reported that ‘Edward did not want his brothers to proceed to England before him, as he feared some disturbance, especially as the Duke of Clarence, on a previous occasion, aspired to make himself king’.26 Memories proved hard to forget, both for the king and for Clarence, who continued to believe that he was owed further advancement.
The sudden death of his wife, probably in childbirth, at the end of December 1476 seems to have led to a heightened state of instability in Clarence’s mind. When Charles, duke of Burgundy, was killed in battle in early 1477, Clarence sought the opportunity of marrying the duke’s daughter, Mary, the heiress of the kingdom. Edward was determined to place every obstacle in the path of such a match. When the match fell through, and Mary was instead married to Archduke Maximilian, Clarence placed the blame at Edward’s feet. ‘Each one began to look upon the other with not altogether brotherly eyes’, the Crowland chronicler wrote.27 Sycophants of both the duke and the king spread disparaging remarks about each other: Clarence, who by now had absented himself from court and was holed up in Warwick Castle, was playing a dangerous game.
Clarence did not seem to care. Unstable and unbalanced, he acted next in a way that scandalised the political establishment. On 12 April 1477, two of his servants broke into the house of Ankarette Twynyho, a former servant of Clarence’s wife, Duchess Isabel. Ankarette was dragged to Warwick, where she stood trial on charges of having poisoned her mistress. The hastily assembled and coerced jury convicted her in less than three hours. She was immediately executed. Clarence had committed nothing less than judicial murder, but for the moment Edward took no action, refusing to reveal his hand.
Behind the scenes, the king prepared to gather evidence that would lead to the final downfall of his wayward brother. An Oxford astronomer, Dr John Stacey, who had been arrested under suspicion of using magic arts for evil purposes, had recently confessed under torture that he had been involved with a member of Clarence’s household, Thomas Burdett, and another astronomer, Thomas Blake, a chaplain of Merton College. According to the confession, several years earlier at Thomas Burdett’s request, Stacey and Blake had calculated the horoscopes of both Edward IV and Prince Edward. In May 1475, they revealed their findings, claiming that the horoscope foretold an early death for both the king and his son.
This was evidence enough for Edward to seek his revenge. On 12 May 1477, Burdett, Stacey and Blake were tried at King’s Bench on charges that they had ‘imagined and compassed’ the death of the king and the Prince of Wales, using magic arts to accomplish their designs. The indictment further claimed that Thomas Burdett ‘did … falsely and treacherously disperse and disseminate divers and seditious bills, rhymes and ballads, containing complaints, seditions and treasonable arguments, to the intent that the people should withdraw their cordial love from the King and abandon him, and rise and make war against the King, to the final destruction of the King and Prince’.28
On 19 May all three defendants were found guilty and were sentenced to death. Blake successfully sought pardon, though Burdett and Stacey were to be hanged at Tyburn. ‘They were drawn to the gallows at Tyburn and permitted to say anything they wished, briefly, before they died’, the Crowland chronicler wrote, ‘they declared their innocence, Stacey, indeed, faintly, but Burdett with great spirit and many words, as though, like Susanna, in the end he was saying, “Behold I die, though I have done none of these things.”‘29
The trial and execution of a member of Clarence’s household for treason had clear implications for the duke himself. The same day, writs were als
o issued to the Warwickshire justices, ordering that they send their records of the Twynyho court case to Westminster.30 The net was closing in around Clarence. In a desperate attempt to clear his name, the duke decided to act first. The following day he burst into a meeting of the council at Westminster, forcing them to listen to his spokesman, Dr John Goddard, who ‘upon the duke’s instigation’ read out the declarations of innocence which Burdett and Stacey had made at the gallows. Clarence’s choice of Goddard as his spokesman was tactless in the extreme, since the preacher was best known for previously having defended Henry VI’s right to the throne at St Paul’s Cross in September 1470. Edward was at Windsor when he heard the news. According to the Crowland chronicler, the king was ‘greatly displeased and recalled information laid against his brother which he had long kept in his breast’.31 This time, in a whirlwind of defiance towards the king and his law, Clarence had gone too far.
The next day, Clarence was summoned to Westminster, where, in the presence of the mayor and aldermen of London, Edward ‘from his own lips, began to treat the duke’s action … as a most serious matter, as if it were in contempt of the law of the land and a great threat to the judges and jurors of the kingdom’. Clarence was immediately arrested and placed in the Tower some time in June 1477.
It would be a further six months before Clarence’s eventual fate was decided. ‘No one argued against the duke except the king; no one answered the king except the duke’, the Crowland chronicler wrote of the proceedings in January 1478. ‘Some persons, however, were introduced concerning whom many people wondered whether they performed the offices of accusers or witnesses. It is not really fitting that both offices should be held at the same time, by the same persons, in the same case. The duke swept aside all charges with a disclaimer offering, if it were acceptable, to uphold his case by personal combat.’32 Pitted against each other, brother against brother, Clarence even offered to clear his name in a duel. The verdict was never in doubt. Clarence was formally condemned in January 1478, though his execution was delayed while Cecily, the dowager queen, fought hopelessly to persuade Edward to pardon his brother.33 Her efforts were in vain: Clarence was executed in private in the Tower, possibly at his own request in a bath of malmsey wine.
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