ON MONDAY 16TH June a wary and nervous Council met at the Tower. The date of the coronation was less than a week away and Gloucester, says Mancini, ‘submitted how improper it seemed that the King should be crowned in the absence of his brother, who, on account of his nearness of kin and his station, ought to play an important part in the ceremony’. ‘What a sight it shall be,’ he said, according to Vergil, ‘to see the King crowned if, while that the solemnity of triumphant pomp is in doing, his mother, brother and sisters remain in sanctuary.’ Mancini says the Protector stated that, since the Duke of York ‘was held by his mother against his will in sanctuary, he should be liberated, because the Sanctuary had been founded by their ancestors as a place of refuge, not of detention, and this boy wanted to be with his brother’. Gloucester spoke scathingly of ‘the Queen’s malice’ and how she was trying to discredit the Council; he said it was bad for York to have no one of his own age to play with and to be ‘in the company of old and ancient persons’, and he proposed that Cardinal Archbishop Bourchier convey a command to the Queen to release her son. When the octagenarian prelate refused to sanction the boy’s removal from sanctuary by force, fearing that reasonable persuasion might fail because of ‘the mother’s dread and fear’, Buckingham retorted that the Queen’s behaviour was not prompted by fear but by ‘womanly frowardness. I never before heard of sanctuary children.’ A child had no need of sanctuary, he argued, and therefore no right to it.
The Council, much intimidated and now without Hastings to voice any opposition, allowed itself to be persuaded by the Duke and agreed to Gloucester’s demand. Whereupon, says Mancini, ‘he surrounded the Sanctuary with troops’. I ord Howard’s account books show that on that very day Howard and his son hired eight boats full of soldiers to escort Gloucester, Buckingham, Bourchier, Russell and themselves to Westminster and then form an armed chain round the Abbey.
York had been brought up at court by the Queen his mother. All we know of him comes from Molinet, who says he was ‘joyous and witty, nimble, and ever ready for dances and games’. Such a lively child would probably have welcomed being released from the restrictions of life in sanctuary. But then York was only nine years old, and too young to understand what his liberation might mean.
Croyland says that Gloucester and his entourage of magnates, prelates and soldiers ‘came with a great multitude to Westminster’ that same day, ‘armed with swords and staves’. Stallworthe testifies that there were ‘great plenty of harnessed men’ in the area around Westminster Abbey that day. On arrival, Gloucester, continues Croyland, ‘compelled the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, with many others, to enter the Sanctuary in order to appeal to the good feelings of the Queen and prompt her to allow her son to come forth and proceed to the Tower, that he might comfort the King his brother’.
Bourchier and Howard confronted the Queen in the Abbot’s House, conveyed Gloucester’s message, and informed her that the Protector desired to take her son York under his protection. They begged her to agree to this in order to avoid a scandal, and promised that her son would be safe and well looked after. The Queen expressed reservations about York’s future safety, whereupon Howard asked her why her sons should be in any danger. She was at a loss for an answer, and Bourchier indicated firmly to Howard that he should ‘harp no more on that string’.
Elizabeth Wydville’s only hope of returning to power lay with her son the King, and while York remained with her Edward V was relatively safe and her ambitions realistically based. She did not trust Gloucester, and said so. Both More and Hall portray her as making a long speech to this effect, saying she knew there were ‘deadly enemies to my blood. The desire of a kingdom knoweth no kindred; brothers have been brother’s bane, and may the nephew be sure of his uncle? Both of these children are safe while they are asunder.’ But Croyland, who was almost certainly an eyewitness, refers to no such speeches.
Howard now joined with Bourchier to reassure the Queen, persuading her that surrendering York was the best course. The Archbishop, who, says the Great Chronicle, ‘thought and planned no harm’ and, says Mancini, ‘was suspecting no guile, persuaded the Queen to do this, seeking as much to prevent a violation of the Sanctuary as to mitigate by his good services the fierce resolve of the Duke’. No one doubted that if the Queen refused Gloucester would employ force to remove York: the soldiers outside bore testimony to that, and the House of York had its precedents for sanctuary-breaking. But Bourchier, says Croyland, assured the Queen that Gloucester ‘thought or intended none harm’, which was rather naïve of him, considering what had happened three days earlier.
‘When the Queen saw herself besieged and preparation for violence,’ says Mancini, ‘she surrendered her son, trusting in the word of the Cardinal of Canterbury that the boy should be restored after the coronation.’ And although Vergil writes that ‘thus was the innocent child pulled out of his mother’s arms’, Croyland says that the Queen ‘assented with many thanks to this proposal’. Later accounts describe an emotional parting, but no contemporary writer refers to any.
York was delivered, says Stallworthe in a letter to Stonor dated 21st June, to Bourchier, Russell ‘and many other lords temporal’, who took him to the Palace of Westminster, where ‘with him met my lord of Buckingham in the midst of the hall of Westminster, my lord Protector receiving him at the Star Chamber door with many loving words’. Howard and Bourchier then conducted York by boat to the Tower, where he was reunited with his brother and, says Stallworthe, ‘where he is, blessed be Jesu, merry’.
Gloucester now had both the male heirs of Edward IV in his power; he had neutralised the Wydvilles and removed nearly all those who had opposed him. ‘From this day,’ says Croyland, ‘the Duke openly revealed his plans.’ Now that those plans were being finalised, Gloucester apparently decided that the royal apartments should be vacated by the King and his brother in preparation for his own coronation. Vergil states that Gloucester was in fact lodging in the Tower from 16th June, and shortly after that date, says Mancini, Edward V and York ‘were withdrawn to the inner apartments of the Tower proper, and day by day began to be seen more rarely behind the bars and windows’. Mancini’s reference to bars indicates that the boys were Gloucester’s prisoners, which is borne out by the Great Chronicle, which states that they were ‘holden more straight, and then was privy talk in London that the Lord Protector should be king’.
The Tower was a very public place to which the citizens were admitted to view the menagerie or for administrative purposes; therefore it is quite credible that the Princes (as we shall refer to them) were seen on several occasions. To begin with they were allowed outdoors for exercise. The Great Chronicle records that ‘During this Mayor’s year, the children of King Edward were seen shooting and playing in the garden of the Tower by sundry times.’ The Mayor referred to was Sir Edmund Shaa, who held office from October 1482 to October 1483. However, the reference to the boys playing must relate to the period immediately after 16th June and before the second week in July, when Mancini says the boys had ceased to appear at the windows altogether; it may also refer to Edward V before he had been joined by York. Mancini makes it clear that these outdoor games occurred less frequently as the days went by.
No source is specific in naming exactly which part of the Tower the Princes were withdrawn to after 16th June. Tradition has it that they were held in what is now known as the Bloody Tower. In 1483 it was called the Garden Tower because the left side of it adjoined the garden of the Lieutenant’s (now the Queen’s) House. Because the Princes were seen playing ‘in the garden of the Tower’ it has long been assumed that they were lodged in the Garden Tower, once a means of access to the old royal apartments. This assumption has been given credence by the high standard of accommodation in the Garden Tower and its proximity to the Lieutenant’s House, vital for security purposes. But there is no other evidence that the Princes were ever there, nor was the Garden Tower re-named the Bloody Tower until 1597. In 1532 it was still being referred to as the Garden Tower, which argues a contemporary lack of association with the Princes.
The garden of the Lieutenant’s House was also in close proximity to the massive White Tower, the old Norman keep with its 9-foot-thick walls. Here were the original royal apartments, still occasionally used, and here too, on the upper floors, important state prisoners had been housed since the twelfth century. This was the most secure part of the Tower, ‘the Tower proper’, as Mancini says, and the place most likely to have been chosen as the Princes’ abode by Gloucester. Here they could be lodged in relative comfort in any one of the turret chambers or rooms in the upper regions. Here, too, was later found forensic evidence to indicate their presence, which will be discussed later. In the White Tower the Princes were out of the way, and no-one could gain access to them without Gloucester’s authority.
The Protector now turned his attention to another possible obstacle to his schemes, the eight-year-old Earl of Warwick who, since the flight of Dorset, was without a legal guardian. Mancini says that ‘about this time Gloucester gave orders that the son of the Duke of Clarence should come to the City, and commanded that the lad should be kept in confinement in the household of his wife, the child’s maternal aunt. For he feared that if the entire progeny of King Edward became extinct, yet this child, who was also of royal blood, would still embarrass him.’ What Mancini is here implying is that Gloucester had already contemplated the extinction of Edward IV’s sons.
Gloucester was now apparently in a very strong position: he had all the Yorkist male heirs to the throne in his power, he had rid himself of his enemies, and armed support was on its way to him from York. But his position was still under threat. Firstly, both the Wydvilles and the King were now permanently alienated from him: More says Gloucester told Buckingham that Edward V had been so offended by their actions that there was no chance of a reconciliation. When the King attained his majority, both dukes could expect the worst for, according to Gloucester, he would never forget what was done to him in his youth. Secondly, the execution of Hastings had alienated a number of Gloucester’s supporters on the Council, further reducing his minority and the likelihood that the Council would support an extension of his powers after the coronation. Thirdly, that coronation was only days away, and many lords had already arrived in London to attend it and the Parliament that was to follow. The King could not open Parliament until he was crowned, and that event could not be deferred any longer because the business of the kingdom was being held up. Gloucester therefore had to act quickly if his plan was to succeed, and there can be no doubt that his ambition, his fear of what the future would otherwise hold, and his chronic sense of insecurity all gave added impetus to this necessity.
Croyland states that, with the strongest supporters of the King having been removed ‘and all the rest of his faithful subjects fearing the like treatment, the two dukes did henceforth just as they pleased’. Buckingham had been involved in Gloucester’s plans from the beginning: More refers to his ‘guilty foreknowledge’, saying that ‘when the Protector had both the children in his hands he opened himself more boldly to the Duke of Buckingham, although I know that many thought that this Duke was privy to all the Protector’s counsel’. What Gloucester opened himself about was almost certainly the exact details of his scheme to seize the throne.
The plan was to declare Edward V and Richard of York unfit to inherit the crown; therefore, as Warwick was supposedly barred from the succession by his father’s attainder, Gloucester would be next in line to the throne and would demand to be acknowledged as the rightful king. But, given that the act of recognition by the magnates at his crowning would have the effect of erasing any doubts about Edward V’s title to the throne, Gloucester knew he had to make public his claim before 22nd June, the date set for the coronation.
In what Croyland refers to as his ‘haughty mind’, Gloucester was already king. He began acting like one, according to Mancini, who says that ‘when Richard felt secure from all those dangers that at first he feared, he took off the mourning clothes that he had worn since his brother’s death and, putting on a purple robe, he then rode through the capital, surrounded by a thousand attendants. He publicly showed himself so as to receive the attention and applause of the people, as yet under the name of Protector; but each day he entertained to dinner at his private dwellings an increasingly large number of men,’ doubtless with a view to winning their support. ‘When he exhibited himself through the streets of the City, he was scarcely watched by anybody, rather did they curse him with a fate worthy of his crimes, since no-one now doubted at what he was aiming.’
Undaunted at the loss of his early popularity, Gloucester pressed on with his plans. By 17th June he had decided to cancel the Parliament called for 25th June, and on that day issued writs rescinding the official summonses sent to the members and magnates. Lord Chancellor Russell’s draft speech for the state opening of that Parliament, composed at this time, still survives; ironically, after urging unity amongst the opposing factions in government and praising the good qualities in the King, Russell recommended the continuance of Gloucester’s protectorate until Edward V attained his majority, when ‘ripeness of years and personal rule be concurrent together’. He envisaged Edward V having cause ‘to rejoice himself and say, “Uncle, I am glad to have you confirmed in this place, you to be my Protector in all my business”’ with powers encompassing ‘the defence of the realm and the tutele [education] and oversight of the King’s most royal person during his years of tenderness, to be his tutor and protector’. Gloucester, even had he known of Russell’s recommendation, may nevertheless have felt that he lacked sufficient support to push the motion through in Parliament.
Between 17th and 21st June, Gloucester postponed the coronation indefinitely; on what grounds, we do not know. The Tudor chronicler, Richard Grafton, says a new date was set, 2nd November, but there is no contemporary evidence for this, and the magnates who gathered in London on 25th June, speculating as to when the ceremony would in fact take place, certainly did not know about it. What was more, preparations for a coronation were still going ahead. The accounts of Piers Curteys, Keeper of the Royal Wardrobe, show that Edward V’s coronation robes were ready: a short gown of crimson cloth of gold and black velvet and long gowns of crimson cloth of gold lined with green damask, blue velvet and purple velvet, as well as a doublet of black satin and a bonnet of purple velvet. Dishes had already been prepared for the coronation banquet, and animals slaughtered in readiness. By Saturday, 21st June, London was a-buzz with rumour and speculation.
Two days earlier the Civic Council in York had called up the troops required by the Protector; Mancini says they numbered 6,000 and were mainly from the estates of both Gloucester and Buckingham. News that a large armed force had been summoned from the North reached London on that Saturday, causing much alarm and concern, especially since there was already a considerable military presence, wearing Gloucester’s livery, in the City. ‘With us is much trouble, and every man doubts other,’ wrote Stallworthe to Stonor that day, mentioning that all Hastings’ men ‘are switching allegiance to the Duke of Buckingham’. The mood of the capital was so tense and hostile that the Lord Mayor, a supporter of the Protector, organised a watch in the interests of keeping the peace.
Gloucester now, says Mancini, ‘took special opportunity of publicly showing his hand’. Sunday, 22nd June, should have been Edward V’s coronation day. Instead, Londoners attending a sermon at Paul’s Cross in London heard for the first time Edward’s claim to the throne impugned. The preacher was Dr Ralph Shaa, the Mayor’s brother, a Cambridge-educated doctor of theology. Like his brother he supported Gloucester, and the latter saw in him the perfect instrument for making public some astonishing revelations concerning the royal succession. Indeed, both the Shaa brothers had exerted themselves to win over the Londoners to Gloucester’s party, and there were a few cheers for Dr Ralph from several strategically placed retainers of the Protector as he entered the open-air pulpit before the cathedral. There he delivered his sermon, taking as his text a quotation from the Apocrypha: ‘But the multiplying brood of the ungodly shall not thrive, nor take deep rooting from bastard slips, nor lay any fast foundations.’
Gloucester, avers Mancini, had ‘so corrupted’ Dr Shaa and other ‘preachers of the divine Word that in their sermons’ – that at Paul’s Cross was not the only one of its kind delivered that day – ‘they did not blush to say, in the face of decency and all religion, that the progeny of King Edward should be instantly eradicated, for neither had he been a legitimate king, nor could his issue be so. Edward IV, said they, was conceived in adultery, and in every way was unlike the late Duke of York; but Richard, Duke of Gloucester, who altogether resembled his father, was to come to the throne as the legitimate successor.’ At this point Gloucester was meant to appear with Buckingham and other lords in a nearby gallery but he mis-timed his entrance and the dramatic gesture fell flat. Dr Shaa resolutely continued, ignoring his silent audience, praising the Duke’s virtues and stressing that by character and descent he was legally entitled to the throne. But his speech, and those of other preachers in London, met with scant approval from the citizens, whose initial liking for Gloucester had dissolved in the wake of Hastings’ execution, the cancelled coronation – which boded no good – and what they viewed as an armed threat from the North. Dr Shaa, they felt, was little better than a traitor. Indeed, his sermon wrecked his good reputation as a preacher, and his death in 1484 was attributed by the London Chronicles and More to shame and remorse.
Nevertheless, both he and other preachers had called for the disinheriting of Edward IV’s children on the grounds of that King’s alleged bastardy. In making this allegation, Gloucester was well aware that he was defaming the venerable reputation of his aged mother the Duchess of York, who had become a Benedictine nun in 1480 and lived in pious retirement at Berkhamsted Castle. To make matters worse, the Duchess had just arrived in London for her grandson’s coronation.
Allegations of bastardy were common propaganda tools in the fifteenth century. This was not the first time they had been levelled at Edward IV. Mancini’s tale that the Duchess, angry in 1464 at her son’s marriage to Elizabeth Wydville, had offered to declare him a bastard, dates from 1483 and probably reflects rumours current at that time: it is not supported by contemporary evidence. Both Warwick and Clarence had called Edward IV a bastard for their own political purposes, but without substantiating their claims by evidence. No-one, in 1483, believed the allegations of Dr Shaa and others, but this was scant comfort to the Duchess who, according to Vergil, ‘being falsely accused of adultery, complained afterwards in sundry places to right many noble men, whereof some yet live, of that great injury which her son Richard had done her’. It may be that her complaints carried some weight, for the allegations were suddenly dropped and not followed through. We know very little of Gloucester’s subsequent relations with his mother; only one letter from him survives, expressing conventional filial devotion. But there is no escaping the fact that he had, to further his own ambitions, publicly insulted and slandered her, an appallingly unfilial act; and in 1484, when the Act ‘Titulus Regius’ was passed, setting out Richard’s title to the throne, he insisted on the allegations of bastardy being indirectly levelled again, having himself described as ‘the undoubted son’ of York.
It was obvious in June 1483, however, that this particular horse was not going to run, and necessary therefore that Edward V’s unfitness to wear a crown be established by other means. Shortly after the fiasco of Shaa’s sermon, Gloucester had it put about that Edward IV’s marriage to Elizabeth Wydville was invalid because he had at the time been contracted to another lady, and that their children were bastards and incapable of inheriting the throne. It was this that was the eventual basis of Gloucester’s claim to sovereignty.
Although the supposed facts of this matter were recorded in 1484 in the Act ‘Titulus Regius’, the fullest contemporary account of the ‘precontract story’ was written by Philippe de Commines more than ten years later. According to this, Robert Stillington, Bishop of Bath and Wells, had presented himself before the Council on 8th June and disclosed some astonishing information. He ‘discovered to the Duke of Gloucester that his brother King Edward had been formerly very enamoured of a certain English lady and had promised her marriage upon the condition he might lie with her. The lady consented and, as the Bishop affirmed, he married them when nobody was present but they two and himself. His fortune depending on the court, he did not discover it, and persuaded the lady likewise to conceal it, which she did, and the matter remained a secret.’ Commines says the Bishop produced ‘instruments, authentic doctors, proctors and notaries of the law with depositions of divers witnesses’ to prove his story.
The lady in question was a gentlewoman called Lady Eleanor Butler. Lady Eleanor, whose name first appears linked to Edward IV’s in ‘Titulus Regius’, was described in that Act as the daughter of John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury (1388?–1453), although Commines casts doubt on this; an unidentified Sir John Talbot is described in other sources as Eleanor’s brother. Her date of birth is recorded as 1435, but this cannot be verified. Around 1449–50 she married Sir Thomas Butler (or Boteler), the son and heir of Ralph, Lord Sudeley, and went to live at Sudeley Castle near Winchcombe, Gloucestershire. Sir Thomas died in 1460–61, leaving Eleanor a childless widow with a legal dispute on her hands. Lord Sudeley had transferred two manors in Warwickshire to his son on his marriage, but had failed to obtain the King’s licence to do so beforehand; as a result these manors were confiscated. Shortly after being widowed Eleanor is said to have petitioned Edward IV for their restoration, which was granted her in 1461. This is the only contemporary record of any dealings between her and the King, and if a precontract ever existed between them then it would have dated from the period between Eleanor’s widowhood in 1461 and Edward IV’s marriage to Elizabeth Wydville in 1464.
Lady Eleanor died shortly before 30th June, 1468, the day on which she was buried in the conventual church of the Carmelites in Norwich. Buck states that she had retired there shortly after giving birth to a child by the King, but there is no contemporary evidence for this. The child, said to have been known at first as Giles Gurney and later on as Edward de Wigmore, was supposed to have been the great-grandfather of Richard Wigmore, secretary to Elizabeth I’s chief minister, Lord Burleigh. Buck also says that Lady Eleanor’s family persuaded Stillington to go to Gloucester with the truth.
But was it the truth? The answer to that question is crucial, and for centuries writers have argued the pros and cons of the matter, and still cannot reach agreement. The overwhelming consideration must be that public acceptance of the invalidity of Edward V’s claim to the throne was highly advantageous to Gloucester, who had everything to gain from it. Furthermore, these revelations of Stillington’s, if they were made at all, were made at a most convenient time. Indeed, as several writers have pointed out, their very timeliness undermines their credibility. And if we examine the facts of the story, several flaws immediately become apparent.
Commines was the only contemporary writer to state that the precontract story came from Stillington; English writers do not mention him. The Bishop’s allegations are unsubstantiated by any other evidence or source, and none of the proofs he allegedly produced are referred to elsewhere. Commines believed that ‘this bad, wicked bishop’ had ‘kept thoughts of revenge in his heart’ because Edward IV had had him imprisoned in 1478, and that this had prompted him to take his story before the Council; he had fallen from favour and hoped to regain it when a grateful Protector became king. Stillington’s imprisonment was brief, however, and he had regained some of his former influence. Moreover, Gloucester at no time in the future showed him any mark of favour nor rewarded him as he did his other supporters.
There is no record of Stillington appearing before the Council on 8th June or any other date, nor is there any evidence for him being examined in connection with his allegations. On 9th June Stallworthe, referring to the Council’s meeting on that day, had nothing to report, which would hardly have been the case if such sensational revelations had been produced the day before.
A precontract, in that period, was a promise before witnesses to marry followed by sexual intercourse. Many couples lived together on the strength of this and did not have their unions blessed in church. A precontract was as binding as a marriage and could only be dissolved by the ecclesiastical authorities. By 1330the law recognised that an existing precontract with one partner was a bar to marriage with another and sufficient to bastardise any children of a subsequent marriage. Edward IV is said to have promised marriage to Lady Eleanor in return for sex, which may well have constituted a valid precontract. Stillington is then supposed to have married them without any witnesses being present, which is inconceivable considering his reputation as a canon lawyer and theologian. A marriage without witnesses was automatically invalid, and therefore – taking the story at face value – the King could only be said to be precontracted to the lady, not married to her. It is also inconceivable that neither Stillington nor Lady Eleanor disclosed the matter when Edward IV married Elizabeth Wydville, given that both would have known the royal marriage to be bigamous and invalid, and the succession at stake. At the time the marriage was unpopular and created a furore as it was, and the Bishop at least would not have lacked supporters had he spoken out. Lady Eleanor’s pedigree was no poorer than Elizabeth Wydville’s, so the disclosure of her precontract could hardly have made matters worse.
Nevertheless the precontract story was well-conceived and plausible, giving Edward IV’s reputation with women and the notorious circumstances of his marriage to Elizabeth Wydville, though no proof to substantiate it was forthcoming at the time, nor has been since. Edward IV had lived with his wife for nineteen years, united in the eyes of Church and State, and no-one had ever suggested in the slightest way that their marriage was invalid because of a previous precontract. In the normal way, Gloucester should have had the allegations laid before a properly constituted ecclesiastical court, which would conduct a searching investigation into the validity of the late King’s marriage in order to prove beyond any doubt that it was unlawful and its issue illegitimate. Only then could the children of the marriage be legally declared bastards and unfit to inherit, and that by Parliament itself, which had the power to rule on questions affecting inheritance. But Gloucester, probably realising that his allegations would never stand up in an ecclesiastical court, did not submit them for examination, a most telling omission that is evidence enough that he had insufficient proof to support them.
No contemporary writer believed the precontract story. The well-informed Croyland, the only contemporary chronicler to give an accurate account of it, knowing how crucial it was, dismissed the tale as false, calling it ‘the colour for this act of usurpation’. Mancini did not believe the tale either.
It appears, then, that there is no truth in the precontract story and Commines’ account of Stillington’s role in it. ‘That fable,’ wrote Bacon, ‘was ever exploded.’ What is likely is that it was invented by Gloucester to suit his own ambitions and justify what he was about to do with or without the connivance of others, as soon as he realised that the public would not accept the allegations of Edward IV’s bastardy as the pretext for his claiming the throne.
Nevertheless, in our own time there are still writers who insist that there had been a precontract, that Stillington had confided as much to Clarence, and that Edward IV had Clarence executed to silence him. Clarence, of course, had much to gain from the possession of such information: he was next in line to the throne. It is strange, therefore, that Clarence, who was always so ready to slander his brother, never made use of what he allegedly knew, and stranger still that Gloucester, who was at court at the time and in the King’s confidence, never learned of the allegations, or, if he did, never made use of them until June, 1483. There is no evidence at all that Stillington told Clarence of a precontract, and no reason to believe that Clarence’s removal was due to anything other than the specific, blatant crimes with which he was charged. Nor is it conceivable that Edward IV would have released Stillington from prison after Clarence’s death, knowing he was the possessor of such dangerous knowledge.
While London seethed with gossip, at Sheriff Hutton Castle on 23rd June, Anthony Wydville, Earl Rivers, was informed that he was to be taken to Pontefract Castle on the morrow to be executed. Before leaving, he made his will, and the following day was taken under guard – as were Grey and Haute – to Pontefract, where Vaughan was held; there, all four were told they were to die the next day. That night, says Rous, Rivers ‘wrote a ballad in English’, in which he said he was ‘willing to die’.
On that same day in London, Buckingham went to the Guildhall to address the Mayor, aldermen and chief citizens on behalf of Gloucester, who did not appear. The Duke spoke for half an hour, deploying all his considerable powers of eloquence and persuasion, so that all who heard him marvelled. The gist of his speech was recorded by all the London chroniclers, Vergil, and More, whose father, being a London judge, was probably present in the Guildhall that day. Buckingham’s main objective was to persuade the people that Gloucester was their rightful king. He said he would not venture to go further into the matter of the bastardy of Gloucester’s brothers since the Protector bore ‘a filial reverence for the Duchess his mother’, and enlarged instead upon the precontract story. Gloucester, he said, was reluctant to accept the crown for he knew ‘it was no child’s office’, but he might do so if the citizens pressed him to it. The Duke ended by appealing to them to do so.
There was a deathly silence. It was obvious that very few believed there had ever been a precontract between Edward IV and Eleanor Butler, much less that Gloucester was the rightful king. A few, at length, murmured their approval, but this was mainly due to fear of reprisals from Gloucester rather than loyalty to him or conviction, whereupon Buckingham’s men attempted to redeem the situation by throwing their caps into the air and shouting ‘King Richard!’ But the execution of Hastings had alienated many of Gloucester’s former supporters and it was becoming obvious that he was not going to be swept on to the throne on a tide of public opinion.
Nor would the public’s confidence have been restored by knowledge of what occurred on the following day, 25th June, at Pontefract. Evidence in York Civic Records shows that Sir Richard Ratcliffe had arrived at the castle with the troops from York a day or so previously and conveyed the Protector’s order for the executions of the four prisoners to the Earl of Northumberland, who was awaiting him there with an army of his own. Rous says that ‘the said lords were condemned to death by the Earl on the false charge that they had in fact plotted the death of Richard, Duke of Gloucester and, for a thing they had never contemplated, the innocent humbly and peaceably submitted to a cruel fate.’ Croyland confirms that the executions took place ‘by command of Richard Ratcliffe, and without any form of trial being observed’. Rous, in a later passage, describes Northumberland as the men’s ‘chief judge’, implying that some sort of formal condemnation had taken place, but Rous was a less reliable commentator than Croyland, and Rivers had been informed of his imminent death two days previously at Sheriff Hutton. As a nobleman he had the right to be tried by his peers in Parliament, but this had been denied him, as it had been denied Hastings.
Rivers, Grey, Vaughan and Haute were beheaded in the presence of Northumberland, Ratcliffe – who supervised the proceedings – the assembled northern forces, and some of the public. None of the men were allowed to make a speech. Rous says that afterwards, when the bodies were stripped for burial, Rivers was found to be wearing a ‘consecrated hair shirt’ which was long after displayed in the church of the Carmelite friars in Doncaster. Rivers, Grey and Haute were buried naked in a common grave in a monastery at Pontefract, while Vaughan, whom Croyland calls ‘an aged knight’, was eventually laid to rest in Westminster Abbey under a Latin epitaph which translates as ‘To love and wait upon’, an allusion to his devoted service to Edward V.
All contemporary writers agree that Rivers and his associates had committed no crime. No evidence against them was ever produced. Rous says they ‘were unjustly and cruelly put to death, being lamented by everyone, and innocent of the deed for which they were charged’. More states that their only fault was in being ‘good men, too true to the King’, and Vergil avers that their true offence was to stand in the way of Gloucester’s ambitions. Croyland observes that this was the ‘second innocent blood which was shed on the occasion of this sudden change’. In all, their executions constituted yet more blatant acts of tyranny committed by Gloucester.
By now a great number of lords and commoners had arrived in London for the coronation, and on 25th June all were summoned to Westminster. Mancini says they ‘supposed they were called both to hear the reason for Hastings’ execution and to decide again upon the coronation of Edward, for it seemed after such an unprecedented alarm that the coronation must be deferred. When the Duke [of Gloucester] saw that all was ready, as though he knew nothing of the affair, he secretly despatched the Duke of Buckingham to the lords with orders to submit to their decision the disposal of the throne.’ Buckingham brought with him, says Croyland, ‘a supplication’ or petition, ‘in an address in a certain roll of parchment’, which was to be approved by the assembly before being laid before Gloucester. This petition had almost certainly been drawn up by Gloucester and Buckingham. Some historians infer that the magnates were its authors, but while it was written in their name, this is implausible. The only magnates involved were likely to have been the two Dukes and perhaps Lord Howard: Rous says Gloucester ‘feigned a title to the crown for his own advancement’, and Croyland relates ‘how it was at the time rumoured that this address had been got up in the north, whence such vast numbers were flocking to London, although at the same time there was not a person but what very well knew who was the sole mover at London of such seditious and disgraceful proceedings’.
This petition no longer survives but its text was incorporated, seemingly word for word, into the Act of Settlement called ‘Titulus Regius’, passed in 1484, which set forth Gloucester’s title to the throne, and its gist was recorded by several contemporary writers. It was couched in lofty, indignant, moral tones, typical of the propaganda used before it and later on by Gloucester, and its purpose was not only to justify the deposition of the lawful sovereign, but to present the Duke to the people as he saw himself, an upright and strong ruler who could offer stable government in place of the uncertainties of a minority.
Buckingham’s address opened with an attack on the government of Edward IV, who had let himself be ruled by the Wydvilles. This time there were no allegations that Edward IV had been illegitimate. Instead, says Croyland, ‘it was set forth that the sons of King Edward were bastards, on the ground that he had contracted a marriage with the Lady Eleanor Butler before his marriage to Queen Elizabeth’. In fact the petition, and the subsequent Act, asserted that the King’s marriage to Elizabeth Wydville was invalid on three counts: firstly, because it had been made without the assent of the lords of the land and as a result of sorcery practised by Elizabeth and her mother (no evidence was produced to substantiate these allegations); secondly, because it had been ‘made privily and secretly, without edition of banns, in private chamber, a profane place, and not openly in the face of the Church, after the law of God’s Church, but contrary to the laudable custom of the Church of England’; and thirdly, because ‘at the time of contract of the said pretenced marriage, and before and long time after, King Edward was married and troth-plight to one Dame Eleanor Butler. Which premises being true, as in very truth they been true, it appeareth and followeth evidently that King Edward and Elizabeth lived together sinfully and damnably in adultery against the laws of God and His Church, and all the issues and children of the said King Edward been bastards and unable to claim anything by inheritance, by the law and custom of England.’
According to the petition, next in line after Edward IV would have been Clarence’s son, the young Earl of Warwick, but for Clarence’s attainder, which, says Mancini, rendered Warwick ‘ineligible for the crown, since his father, after conviction for treason, had forfeited not only his own but his son’s right of succession’. This was not strictly correct. Gloucester was well aware that Warwick had a strong claim to the throne, better than his own. However, there was little danger of anyone claiming it on his behalf at present because Warwick was only eight. As time went by he would pose a greater threat. Attainders were reversible: over 80 per cent of the attainders passed during the period 1453–1509 were later reversed. Henry IV, Henry VI and Edward IV had all succeeded to the throne after being previously attainted. And Clarence’s attainder deprived his children of inheriting only ‘the honours, estate, dignity and name of duke’; it did not exclude them from the succession. However, as far as Gloucester was concerned, the time for legal niceties was long past.
Warwick’s exclusion meant, concluded Buckingham, according to Croyland, that ‘at the present time no certain and incorrupt blood of the lineage of Richard, Duke of York was to be found, except in the person of Richard, Duke of Gloucester’, his undoubted son and heir, who had been born in England, unlike Edward IV, who had been born in France. Mancini quotes Buckingham as saying that Gloucester was ‘legally entitled to the crown and could bear its responsibility, thanks to his proficiency. His previous career and blameless morals would be a sure guarantee of his good government.’ He spoke of Gloucester’s ‘great wit, prudence, justice, princely courage and memorable and laudable acts, and also the great noblesse and excellence of [his] birth and blood’. ‘For which reasons,’ says Croyland, ‘he was entreated at the end of the said roll to assume his lawful rights’ and asked if he would accept and take upon himself the crown and royal dignity.
Mancini says that, according to Buckingham, there was a problem over this, for it was likely that Gloucester ‘would refuse such a burden’. He might, however, ‘change his mind if he were asked by the peers’. Buckingham then left the assembled lords and commons to examine Gloucester’s claim. Many certainly had reservations about it, and it would become clear in time to come that few Englishmen ever found the allegations on which it was based plausible. Nor had any proofs been offered to substantiate them. Croyland, who was on the Council, believed them to be fraudulent; he was not alone. But the lords, says Mancini, ‘consulted their own safety, warned by the example of Hastings and perceiving the alliance of the two Dukes, whose power, supported by a multitude of troops, would be difficult and hazardous to resist; and therefore they determined to declare Richard their king and ask him to undertake the burden of office’. They were ‘seduced’, states Vergil, ‘rather for fear than hope of benefit’. In fact, their decision was unanimous, dictated by the desire for self-preservation, realisation that every minority brought with it more problems than were desirable in an unstable political climate, especially now when the young King’s title had been publicly impugned, and the knowledge that Gloucester was certainly capable of providing strong government.
The assembly that convened on 25th June was undoubtedly constitutional, even though it did not meet in Parliament, but it now went beyond the law and declared Edward IV’s marriage to Elizabeth Wydville invalid and their children illegitimate, then agreed that Edward V had been formally deposed. In fact, he and his siblings were not formally disinherited until ‘Titulus Regius’ was passed in 1484, and therefore his deposition on 25th June, 1483, was illegal. Nevertheless the assembled magnates declared him a ‘proved’ imposter, and the contemporary Harleian MS. 433 in the British Library states that, their oath to Edward V notwithstanding, ‘now every good, true Englishman is bound upon knowledge had of the said very true title [of Gloucester] to depart from the first oath so ignorantly given to him to whom it appertained not.’
On the following day, says Mancini, ‘All the lords foregathered at the house of Richard’s mother [Baynard’s Castle], whither he had purposefully betaken himself, that these events might not take place in the Tower where the young King was confined. There the whole business was transacted.’ The Protector was also determined to emulate his brother Edward IV, whose accession ceremonies had taken place at Baynard’s Castle.
Again, the proceedings were constitutionally correct. Buckingham rode at the head of the deputation, which comprised the lords, commons, knights, Lord Mayor of London, aldermen and chief citizens, all anxious to win the favour of their future monarch and so avoid his terrible displeasure.
Buckingham presented the petition, beseeching Gloucester most eloquently that he should accept the crown, so that the country might escape the dangers of a minority and a disputed succession and enjoy peace through stable, firm government. He told the Duke that the people would not have the sons of Edward IV to reign over them, and that if he refused their request they would have no choice but to choose someone else. Gloucester displayed initial reluctance but at length agreed to accept the crown. Thus, says Croyland, ‘having summoned armed men in fearful and unheard of numbers from the north, the Protector assumed the government of the kingdom, with the title of king’. Mancini says he usurped or occupied (‘occuparit’) the kingdom.
The reign of Richard III, for so the new King was styled, was dated from that day, 26th June, 1483, as he himself confirmed in a letter of 12th October, 1484, referring to it as the date ‘when we entered into our just title’. He had ascended the throne with very little blood being spilt, yet his usurpation would lead in a short time to a second outbreak of the War of the Roses and the ultimate destruction of his own House.