The Duke of Richmond had been no ordinary magnate. If a child of Richmond’s age had acquired his title by inheritance, he would have become a ward of the crown. His wardship and marriage would have been granted with more thought to the financial or political benefit to the king than the care and husbandry of his estates. An heir in wardship had the legal status of a child and responsibility for his lands and welfare was entirely at the discretion of his guardian. When men purchased a wardship in order to marry their own offspring to the heir or heiress, they at least had a vested interest in maintaining him and his property. Otherwise, it was not unknown for lands to be plundered and assets stripped as the guardian sought to accrue the maximum profit from his investment while the heir was in his power. Not until Richmond was granted licence from the king to enter into his estates, once he was considered of full age, usually twenty-one, would he have gained any legal control over his own interests.
Yet from 18 June 1525, the six-year-old Duke of Richmond was treated as if he was an adult. He was not financially supported by his father, but instead expected to provide for himself from his own estates. He attended the king’s parliament like any other peer of the realm and he paid taxes like any other subject, parting with the sum of £90 on one occasion in 1536. When his rights were challenged he defended his title in the king’s law courts. Although both Thomas Wolsey and the Duke of Norfolk assumed a supervisory role over his lands and officers, Richmond was not in any legal sense their ward, not least because his own father was still alive. While it was not unusual for a royal prince to be granted a degree of autonomy at an early age, by rights Richmond’s experience should have been more like his uncle, George Blount, the ward of the Duke of Norfolk, or his half-brother George, Lord Tailbois, in wardship to William Fitzwilliam, Earl of Southampton, rather than that of an independent magnate.
At his creation as Duke of Richmond and Somerset and Earl of Nottingham he was granted extensive lands and possessions. His estates would include over 120 manors in more than twenty counties across England and the Welsh Marches, granted in tail male to him and his legitimate heirs. Intended primarily to provide an income sufficient to support the new duke in a manner appropriate to his rank, Richmond could now expect to enjoy all the traditional rights of the lord of the manor. They were not simply rents and revenues. Leet and manor courts held in his name brought in additional fees. He was also entitled to other privileges such as the goods of felons and the appointment of preachers to his clerical benefices.
His lands would also provide a range of other perks and income. Poole, in Dorset, was a source of alum, used for making paper and fixing dye. The Isle of Purbeck was famous for its stone, which was much in demand as a building material. In 1533 the oaks felled in Cheshunt in Hertfordshire over the previous five years had produced 1,200 cartloads of timber. Leases of both wind and water-mills provided another steady means for a lord to realise the value of his holdings. Bourne in Lincolnshire held three fairs every year. Parks were also a valuable means of patronage, both for the pleasure of the hunt and their supply of game. The gift of a side of venison was such a prized commodity that recipients often noted whether the compliment extended to a buck (which was larger) or a doe. Even rabbit warrens and fishponds were valued as much or their opportunities for sport as for their ever present supply of fresh food.
The lands earmarked for Richmond were set out in letters patent dated 11 August 1525. With a stroke of the king’s pen he found himself the lord of numerous honours, lordships, manors and tenements which had formerly belonged to Margaret, late Countess of Richmond, her father John, late Duke of Somerset and their ancestors. It might seem that Margaret Beaufort’s death in 1509 had left a convenient vacuum, and there is some truth in this. Even the resources of the crown were not infinite and putting together an estate of this size was no easy task. Forty-three provisos and exceptions were required to protect the interests of those affected by Richmond’s grant, including the king’s own interests in the Duchy of Lancaster. Even so, the errors made in the statute supposed to confirm the endowment, where several manors were actually thought to be in the wrong county, reflect just how complicated the undertaking was.
Nevertheless, Richmond was not simply given Margaret’s lands en bloc. He did not receive any of her estates in Leicestershire, Surrey or Wiltshire. He was also granted other property, most extensively his lordships in north Wales, which had not been part of her holdings. Nor had the possessions now granted to Richmond simply languished in the hands of the crown for the past sixteen years. In particular, Margaret, Countess of Salisbury, would actively challenge his right to the Manor of Canford in Dorset. As recently as March 1525, Sir William Courtenay had been granted the reversion of Coldharbour Mansion, a right he was now required to relinquish in favour of the duke. Even so, the mansion itself still remained in the hands of George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, at no small inconvenience to the duke. Seen in this light the composition of Richmond’s lands was obviously as much a matter of policy as practicalities.
The management of such extensive holdings was a major responsibility. Stewards, bailiffs and farmers were required to oversee the lands. Secretaries, receivers, lawyers and other officials were needed to deal with general administration. A landowner also had a duty to take care of his tenants. Manorial courts were designed to dispense law and keep order, while the lord’s right of presentation of clerical livings touched their very souls. At the apex of all this activity stood the ducal household itself with its opportunities for advancement and employment. The direction and control of such widespread interests was no simple task for any established magnate and it was all the more complicated when that magnate was only six.
The intention to treat the child as if he was an established peer would not always fit in with the realities of the situation. Richmond was surrounded with the officers and servants thought necessary to reflect the prestige of a duke. Most of these men had won their places by some connection to Thomas Wolsey or through prior service to the crown. A few, like James Morice, who acted as Richmond’s general receiver, came naturally to his service from his prior association with Margaret Beaufort. Several stewards and bailiffs appointed by Henry VIII simply continued in their posts. In no sense was this an affinity in the traditional sense. The selection of these men did not stem from, or even consider, the wishes of the duke.
Until June 1529 there was also further tension. Richmond’s household was not simply his private concern. It was the king’s Council of the North. The legal and executive business of his officers was a matter of government concern. In theory, the supervision of his lands, the rewards bestowed on his servants and the patronage exercised by the duke was his private business. Yet Wolsey’s role as his godfather and a minister of the crown meant that this line was rarely observed. That Richmond’s officers would report to Wolsey over the progress of the assizes at Newcastle or York was normal and expected. But it is hard to imagine the Duke of Norfolk’s or Earl of Northumberland’s officers approaching the cardinal for advice on what manner and form their Christmas and New Year celebrations should take.
Some areas of Richmond’s affairs were naturally controlled by the crown. The appointment of a Nottingham pursuivantat-arms, ‘attending on the Duke of Richmond and Somerset’ was firmly the prerogative of the king.1 The appointment of George Lawson, the duke’s cofferer, as joint auditor of the three lordships of Middleham, Richmond and Sheriff Hutton in Yorkshire, was made by Henry VIII under letters patent. Richmond’s authority was not sovereign and both he and all his servants were still Henry’s dutiful subjects.
Sometimes this could work to Richmond’s advantage. In July 1528 his father decided that Richmond’s schoolmaster Dr Richard Croke should be rewarded for his good service with a benefice valued at £24 per annum, which was presently in Wolsey’s hands. However, the cardinal had his own ideas as to who should benefit. Now the king summarily informed him that ‘it is too small a value to give to Master Wilson, or any other his chaplains, and this man had never anything’. Wolsey was plainly reluctant. In August Henry sent another message to ‘put you in rememberance’ that the benefice was to go to Richard Croke. Even when Richmond was older the king might also decide to be generous. In February 1531 he rewarded Richmond’s servant, Ambrose Skelton, with a grant of the land and rights to a ‘ferry and passage’ on the River Severn out of the king’s possessions in Gloucestershire.2
The king was also the greatest source of power and protection. When even the most just title might be challenged, that Richmond looked to the crown to protect his and his servants’ interests was nothing out of the ordinary. In April 1528, when it appeared that his former chaplain William Swallow might lose the benefice in Devon which Richmond had recently bestowed on him, the duke had no hesitation in asking the king to intervene on his servant’s behalf, sending ‘this my writing penned with mine own hand’ to add weight to his request. Unfortunately for Richmond, his father also often chose to interfere in matters, which by right or courtesy should have been left to the duke.
One such example took place in April 1527 when Richmond was seven years old. John Stackhouse, the bailiff of Richmond’s Manor of Cottingham in Yorkshire, died. The office was ‘in my Lord’s gift’. Not only did Richmond have every right to grant it as he saw fit, it was expected of a duke to demonstrate good lordship by rewarding his servants. His council wrote hopefully to Wolsey asking to be allowed to appoint George Hartwell to the post, adding the rather pointed request that in future any such vacancies ‘for the better encouraging of his said servants and chaplain to take pains in his service’ should be given to Richmond’s own officers. Yet in this case, as in many other instances, his council’s wishes were not respected. The post, which was worth £6 a year, went to Edward Vaux whom Henry VIII had also appointed as bailiff of another of Richmond’s manors in the area at Longton.
Richmond’s own correspondence makes it clear that he had been told he could exercise his own patronage. The statute 22 Henry VIII c.17, which confirmed the lands entailed upon him, stressed that despite his tender years his authority was equal to any adult’s:
Albeit the said Duke at the time of the making of any such gift grant or patent were and yet is within the age of 21 years in like manner and effect as if the same Duke at the time of the making of the same gifts grants leases and by him made had been of the full age of 21 years.3
In reality, it was absurd that everything should be given over to the whims and wishes of such a young child. In theory Richmond’s council would exercise the guardianship of his interests in his name, gradually drawing the duke into the decision-making process as he grew older. In practice, these lawyers and clerics were painfully aware that the diminutive duke outranked them.
The Tudor age contained no absolute rites of passage. A child of seven could contract a marriage, hold down a job and be held morally responsible for its actions. However, none of these made it an adult. Those who remained financially dependant, either on their master or a parent, could be classed as children well into maturity. A statute on apprenticeships dismissed any man under twenty-four as ‘without self judgment and not of sufficient experience to govern himself’. Medical and educational texts, the sort of work they were employed to do and the parameters of the law, all made some concessions to the fact that a child was not the same as an adult. Yet to society in general, the distinction between the two states was not simply a stage of life, but a reflection of perceived position in society.
The respect due to authority took no account of age. It was widely accepted that children lacked the skills and experience to function effectively in the adult world. A child was taught ‘to submit [itself] lowly and reverently to all [its] betters’. However, a child of rank, whether he was a gentleman, an earl, a duke or a king, commanded exactly the same ‘reverence’ from his servants and inferiors as any adult counterpart. None of Richmond’s council would have been permitted to appear in his presence without removing their hats and observing the appropriate obeisance. The little duke might be persuaded, cajoled or completely circumvented, but his direct will could not be disobeyed by his councillors.
To be fair, many of Richmond’s officers were genuinely concerned to see that his lands were well cared for and his household well run, in a manner befitting his status as the foremost peer of the realm. Unfortunately, neither the king nor Wolsey felt any compulsion to fall in with their wishes.
Since none of Richmond’s council had any rank of their own to support their ‘requests’, conflicts did arise. John Uvedale, a former protégé of the Howards, had served as Richmond’s secretary since 1525. With the rise of Anne Boleyn, Uvedale found himself ever more in her service at court and away from the north. At his request, and with the agreement of Richmond’s council, John Bretton was appointed to act as his deputy in his absence. Then Uvedale was promoted and the king decided that Thomas Derby should take his place as secretary to the duke. In anticipation of Derby’s arrival, Bretton found himself another position in the south of England and effectively handed in his resignation to Richmond’s council.
The council refused to accept it. They had no idea when Derby was supposed to arrive and ‘being desolate of any other person able to exercise the said room’ asked Bretton to stay on. To keep him there they promised that he might have all the profits arising from the position. It was a good deal for Bretton. As deputy he had been accustomed to paying all the ‘issues and profits remaining and growing of the same’ to Uvedale in return for a set fee. Now his income would be significantly increased. Needless to say, he stayed. However, neither Uvedale, nor indeed the king, was best pleased with this turn of events. Even though Uvedale was no longer Richmond’s secretary, Bretton was accused of stealing his rightful income and on 31 January 1528 he was ordered to be imprisoned in York Castle.
At first Richmond’s council complied with the king’s order. However, on 9 March 1528 they advised Wolsey that ‘as the matter in transit between him and John Uvedale be of no great weight or importance’ they had gone ahead and released him. Amid lurid descriptions of the ‘sore and contagious’ diseases, which had swept through the jail and sent fourteen of the prisoners to their death, they stressed Bretton’s frailty. Although they recited the measures they had taken to keep Bretton at York until the whole business was cleared up, they also offered a solution of their own. If the king insisted on giving the profits to Uvedale, which they believed Bretton had earned and genuinely deserved, then ‘we at our own cost and charge shall pay and sustain the same as we in performance of our promise be bound of good conscience to do’.
Significantly, they were anxious that neither Wolsey nor the king should ‘think that ever we presumed to allocate any person to that room or office’ (surely exactly the sort of thing the duke’s council should have been doing). In reality, however earnestly they spoke of the trust and judgment that had been placed in them, these servants of the crown could not expect to command the level of consideration and autonomy which would be allowed to a duke. Perhaps because of this, even at this early stage, Richmond regularly wrote to the king on behalf of his officers in his own hand. Realising that the bailiff of his Manor of Torpell in Northamptonshire, John Brede, was ‘a man far in age’ the young duke asked ‘in my most humble and most lowly wise’ that the yeoman usher of his chamber, Robert Markham, might jointly hold the post, presumably with an eye to stepping into Brede’s shoes as his infirmity advanced.
The extent of Henry’s involvement in Richmond’s affairs does seem to have exceeded normal bounds. In 1528 the duke again reminded his father that:
My lord Legate’s grace of late signified unto me it was your high pleasure that when any like offices or benefices appertaining to my gift should chance to be voided that I by the advice of my council should dispose and give the same at my liberty.4
At first sight, Richmond seemed in no position to make demands. He was the king’s dutiful son as well as his obedient subject. He owed everything he was to his father’s good will and he was still only nine years old. However, not even the king or Wolsey could blatantly ignore the express wishes of the duke.
Things came to a head with the death of Sir William Compton in May 1528. When he succumbed to the sweatingsickness which swept across the land, his demise left the stewardship of two of Richmond’s manors, one in Somerset and the other in Dorset, vacant. Since the king had appointed Compton, he clearly felt he had every right to appoint his successors. He earmarked Sir Giles Strangeways and Sir Edward Seymour for the posts. Admittedly, these lands were now in Richmond’s hands and technically the right of patronage belonged to the duke. Since both men had links with Richmond’s household, Henry might feel that appearances were being observed. On 10 July 1528 the king’s instructions were duly sent to the duke, only to discover that Richmond had already granted the office in Somerset to his ‘trusty and diligent servant’ Sir George Cotton and the post in Dorset to his chamberlain, Sir William Parr.
The conflict presented all involved with a dilemma. The decision, albeit made ‘by the advice of my council’ was undeniably Richmond’s. Even Wolsey had to be apprised of events by Sir Thomas Magnus. The duke explained his action as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He had a great number of servants who had not yet received any reward, Wolsey had assured him that he should fill any vacancies and so he had. Although Richmond was careful to stress that the posts were not that important, one being worth only 100s a year, and was anxious to assure Henry that ‘the same are and shall be at your most gracious commandment’ he did not actually revoke his grants. For its part, his council took refuge in confusion, claiming Henry’s exact wishes were unclear. It is tempting to assume that this decisive action had been intended to catch the king on the hop. Now they had succeeded in granting the offices, the ball was in Henry’s court.
As long as those areas in which the king expressed an interest remained vacant, Richmond and his council had scant grounds to refuse him. However, if Henry seriously expected Richmond to serve as an effective representative of the crown, the duke’s own authority must also be seen to be respected. While Henry might appropriate some of the duke’s patronage to his own use, by couching his requirement in the nature of a request, any move to overturn a decision already made could set a dangerous precedent. Since Richmond’s jurisdiction, as both a bastard and a minor, was limited by what was allowed to him by the crown, it was especially important that Henry should acknowledge and defer to his son’s personal prerogative. Although Henry was doubtless not best pleased at having his intentions blocked by his nine-year-old son and his council of clerks and lawyers, he could not afford to ignore the potential damage to the duke’s carefully crafted, but still fragile, political persona if he decided to overturn his appointments.
In the end it seems a compromise of sorts was reached. Like most compromises it was far from ideal. For the moment, Sir Giles Strangeways was to be disappointed.5 Sir Edward Seymour was more fortunate. On 25 August 1528, in a document impressively adorned with Richmond’s own seal, the duke granted Seymour the stewardship of the Manor of Canford and the other premises in Dorset. By these means the dignity of both the king and the duke was preserved.
As Henry’s representative at Sheriff Hutton, the duke’s role was clearly defined. As a private magnate Richmond’s authority depended more on his personal reputation. Many of Richmond’s officers served on local government commissions. Several of his council also had their own links with areas, in particular the city of York. Richmond’s cofferer, Sir George Lawson, served as an alderman for the city and was subsequently to represent York as both a Member of Parliament and as mayor. Sir Richard Page, the duke’s vice-chamberlain, was recorder of York from 1527 until 1533. However, when Richmond wanted to secure the post of ‘sword bearer’ for his servant Alan Ary in January 1528, the response of the city council was distinctly lukewarm. They told Richmond that they wished to wait ‘unto such time as the King’s grace and the lord Cardinal’s grace pleasure might be further known’.
Given Richmond’s age and circumstances they may have been genuinely concerned not to offend the king. However, the referral to a higher authority also provided them with a convenient excuse to defer making any answer. Relations between the city of York and Richmond’s council were not always good. In August 1528, the town was called to account in a dispute over taxes. Also the city had already had Wolsey’s servant, Robert Fournes, foisted upon them. His appointment had proved most unpopular and the mayor had apparently reproached Fournes to his face:
Master Fournes what do you here? There is not one in this hall that hereafter will company with you or anything will do for you. There is not one in this city that loveth my lord Cardinal or you or any other that longeth to my lord Cardinal.6
Despite Richmond’s request, the office went to Henry Fawkes, a merchant who had enjoyed the freedom of the city since 1504. The personal authority of the duke was clearly not sufficient to counter the resentment of the city. Although to be fair no magnate, with the possible exception of the king, could realistically expect that his will would always to be granted.
Conversely, perhaps with an eye on his possible future prospects, many people were keen to gain entry into Richmond’s service. William Eure was ‘very desirous to have my lord of Richmond’s fee’. Although the fee itself was only £10, he declared it was worth more to him than ‘a thing of far greater value’. When Sir William Bulmer’s age and infirmity weighed too heavily upon him for him to be able to continue in his duties as the steward of Richmond’s household and other offices, he was quick to offer his sons as convenient replacements. A third generation of his family, Matthew Boynton, the husband of Bulmer’s granddaughter Anne, was also found in Richmond’s service.
A large number of Richmond’s own servants were keen to use their influence to secure places in his household for their friends and relations. Nicholas Throckmorton, who with three older brothers lamented the fact that he had little chance of inheriting his fortune, probably owed his position as a page to his uncle, Sir William Parr, who served as the duke’s chamberlain. Henry Partridge, one of the young, unmarried gentlemen of the chamber, was possibly the son or younger brother of Richmond’s former nurse, Anne Partridge. The ‘master Skeffington’ who was a groom of the privy chamber in September 1531, was probably a relation of William Skeffington, by that point serving as Richmond’s deputy lieutenant in Ireland. Robert Johns, one of the yeoman of the chamber, may well have been a relation of the yeoman of the wardrobe, Hugh Johns.
Perhaps this was nothing more than the general scramble for offices and advancement, an age-old desire to get on in the world. When Sir Jason Laybourne expressed his wish to serve the Duke of Richmond, he was equally interested in any other preferment that might supplement his income. Philip Morice, the brother of the young duke’s general receiver, went to considerable lengths to be received into Richmond’s employment. He used his brother’s connection as a valued servant of Thomas Cranmer, so that Cranmer would presume on George Boleyn’s obligation to him, in order that Boleyn might approach his uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, to grant Morice a place in Richmond’s service. The young duke’s household does seem to have been a useful link into royal service. Thomas Eynns from Shropshire was not alone in finding that his time with Richmond would lead on to a position in Prince Edward’s household. Even though Richmond’s prospects of the crown were never exactly spoken of, many in his service must have hoped to profit by association with him. At the very least he was the king’s son anda duke in his own right. Any man would be pleased to serve such a master and there were increasingly rewards to be had.
Richmond was clearly anxious to live up to his position and did the best he could with numerous gifts and grants from his personal possessions. George Cotton received a horse with a flaxen mane and tail that had been a present to the duke from Sir William Skeffington. Even the ‘sore worn’ gift of a doublet of cloth of silver, which Richmond gave to Nicholas Throckmorton, was still a valuable present. Throckmorton also received a crimson riding coat, a gown of black velvet and a riding coat ‘of new coloured cloth’ from the young duke. Nor was he the only beneficiary. John Jenny, one of the unmarried gentlemen of the chamber, received a doublet of purple velvet embroidered with gold chains and lined with black and Hugh Johns, the yeoman of the wardrobe, was given a black velvet riding bonnet, trimmed with gold. Henry Partridge, who was perhaps rather more Richmond’s own size, found himself the proud owner of seven pairs of former ducal hose in various colours, as well as a black bonnet with twenty-seven solid gold buttons.
If Richmond might seem to be a gullible target from whom benefits and rewards could be easily extracted by flattery, then the same could sometimes be said of his father. If getting what you wanted meant pleasing your patron, then such practice was not foul means, but good business practice. Gifts and tokens were a customary and expected part of good lordship. Richmond’s pointed reminder in 1527 that ‘it hath not been my chance as yet hitherto to prefer any one of my servants to any manner of promotion either spiritual or temporal’ was not the complaint of a child, but the concern of a duke who cannot repay the good service of his officers in an appropriate manner. Sometimes the monetary fees were little recompense for the trouble and expense of the office. It was the fringe benefits, which could be goods, prestige or opportunities for personal gain, which were the real attraction.
Richmond’s half-brother, King Edward VI, would voice a similar concern when he declared ‘my Uncle of Somerset dealeth very hardly with me and keepeth me so straight I cannot have money at my will’. This was not exactly pocket money, but intended to reward those supplicants and players who came before their king. Wolsey acknowledged that one of the aspects of Richmond’s affairs that needed to be redressed was the arrangements for personal expenses ‘for giving of rewards, for playing money unto my lord’s grace [and] for his apparel’ which obviously needed to be replaced more frequently than for an adult. This problem, at least, does seem to have been amended. At his death in 1536 Richmond’s almoner handed over about £490 in ready money which he had been holding for the duke.
Despite all the difficulties, examples of Richmond exercising his own patronage are easy to find. When the parsonage of Dimby fell vacant in 1529, Richmond overrode the customary rights of Margaret Pole, Countess of Salisbury, in order to bestow it on his tutor Richard Croke. Giles Forster, who served as master of the horse after the departure of Sir Edward Seymour, earned £3 6s 8d per annum as the steward of Merton in Westmorland. Even lesser servants could benefit from Richmond’s generosity: Robert Metcalf, a clerk of the kitchen received 2d a day as bailiff of Cottingham in Yorkshire. At his death several of Richmond’s servants held offices within his lordships. If George and Richard Cotton seem to have done exceptionally well, with a clutch of such posts between them, they repaid Richmond with eleven years of loyal service. Since they were the only servants allowed to accompany his body into Norfolk, they were perhaps particularly close to the duke.
An unusual aspect of Richmond’s patronage, given Richmond’s lack of years, was his connection with Haltemprice Priory in Yorkshire. In February 1528 Brian Higdon advised Wolsey that the prior at Haltemprice was dead and that two of the brethren were coming up to London to ask for a replacement. He described the priory as being well built, with lands worth about 200 marks, and added ‘the Duke of Richmond and Somerset is founder’. Since Higdon was both Richmond’s chancellor and Dean of York he is unlikely to have been mistaken. A founder’s responsibilities might include sponsoring an establishment’s business in the royal courts or protecting the financial interests of the monks. In return the founder was assured of the grateful services of the monks in praying for them and their family, they had a right to lodgings in the priory during their lifetime and a place of burial after their death.
The claim that Richmond was indeed their founder was reiterated in the visitation of the monasteries in 1536, when the priory was also found to possess the relics of the arms of St George, a part of the true Holy Cross and the girdle of St Mary ‘which is thought to be helpful in childbirth’. However, the sense in which Richmond was the founder is questionable. The priory did draw some of its income from lands in his possession, but that would not give him founder’s rights since Sir John de Meaux had founded a religious house at Haltemprice in 1406 so it was not a new foundation. On the other hand, a re-foundation would have enhanced Richmond’s status. Richmond already maintained a chapel in his household. Adorned with tapestries of the passion of Christ, staffed by clerics in vestments of cloth of gold and crimson velvet embroidered with Richmond’s arms, and a choir, it was as much a matter of prestige as religion. Although being the benefactor of a religious house had obvious benefits for the next world, it was probably hoped this move would enhance Richmond’s image on earth.
In general, Richmond’s age was not a serious handicap when it came to the administration of his lands. It could even be a positive benefit. When Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, had formerly held the lordship of Bromfield and Yale, he had used its income to raise credit and the revenues sharply decreased.7 Instead, Richmond could count on experienced officers like his surveyor and general receiver James Morice who had faithfully served both Henry VIII and Margaret Beaufort. It was his duty to collect rents and fees from the various stewards and bailiffs and handle the practical details of grants and leases. Things did not always run smoothly. Wolsey suggested that the repairs of houses in Boston harbour in Lincolnshire should be arranged before they fell into the sea and in 1534 bad weather in the north meant the harvest failed and Richmond’s tenants claimed they were too poor to pay him any rent.8
Examples of Richmond’s own involvement in the care or exploitation of his lands are not easy to find. While no magnate of his status would have overseen day-to-day business, many took an active interest in what was, in essence, their power base. A number of Richmond’s estates, like Maidcroft in Kent, were let out to farmers. When Richmond bought the Lordship of Arwystli and Cyfeiliog in Montgomeryshire from Sir John Dudley, the manor court was told ‘that the said estate be kept in my lord Ferrers’ name as farmer and not in my lord of Richmond’s name’. In other cases, parts of his estates were leased to various monastic houses. Syon Monastery in Kent, and St Mary’s Chantry in Lincolnshire both held lands from the duke. In 1535 a vicar in Kingsbury Hundred was paying just over 7s in rent to Richmond in his capacity as Lord of Langport in Somerset. This was not the most productive way of realising the value of property, since the possibility for development and improvement was lost in return for a fixed fee. Parcels of land let out to farm or lease were a standard form of land use for those with extensive properties and not in themselves a reflection of Richmond’s youth. However, it did provide the duke with a steady income and relieved his officers of some responsibilities.
Unlike an actual minority, where the ward might grow to find his assets stripped and his lands despoiled, Richmond’s holdings do not appear to have suffered unduly in the hands of his officers. When Richmond took possession of the Manors of Wrestlingworth in Cambridgeshire and Bassingbourn and Orwell in Bedfordshire in 1525, they yielded a sum total of £45 10s 10½d. After his death that sum total was £45 10s 10d exactly. It was not the place of Richmond’s council to make innovative (and possibly risky) developments. They had to answer to the king. Richmond’s occasional purchases did not compare with the policy of acquisition in Lincolnshire undertaken by Edward, Lord Clinton. The modest improvements made to his residences, including some building work at Sheffield, were insignificant beside the magnificent works commissioned by the king. The policy of maintenance and repair was nothing like Margaret Beaufort’s extensive programme, which included an ambitious scheme at Boston in Lincolnshire to prevent flooding.
Although Richmond would take a keen interest in many aspects of his responsibilities, his personal involvement in the care or exploitation of his lands seems to have been at best sporadic and at worst non-existent. In a rare example, in 1534 the duke was taken to view a breach in the sea defences at Poole in Dorset. He solemnly reported that the damage was likely to hinder the collection of custom dues and also be to ‘the great annoyance and decay of my said town . . . unless some good remedy be shortly had in that behalf’. Time and again in numerous counties the period of Richmond’s tenure coincides with a significant gap in even the basic records, like manor court rolls. This perhaps explains how Richmond’s lordship has sometimes been completely overlooked, with local histories often omitting any connection with Richmond at all.
Significantly, this apparent lack of interest did not extend to the question of his title. Any attacks on his rights were vigorously defended in the king’s courts like any adult magnate. When Thomasyn Andrews of Fremington in Devon committed suicide, all her goods and cattle ‘to the value of £20 and above’ were forfeit to the duke, as lord of the manor. Instead, Elizabeth Chicester, and four accomplices conspired to keep her possessions for themselves. Casting himself as ‘your son and faithful subject’ Richmond complained to the king through his Court of Star Chamber. When thieves broke into his park at Bedhampton to slaughter and steal his deer, Richmond again sought to obtain a subpoena. The bill pointed out that their actions were in violation of the king’s laws and lack of suitable punishment would set a perilous example to other like-minded offenders.
Richmond’s eagerness to assert his rights could also result in a less welcome use of the courts. In 1531 Randall Lloyd, Richmond’s deputy steward in his new lordship of Bromfield and Yale, refused to allow the customary general pardon at a change of lord or lady, where all rents, debts and other due monies would be waived in return for a single fee of six marks, so the tenants took their case to the Star Chamber. The king was asked ‘of your most noble and abundant grace, to admit the said tenants and inhabitants to their said old ancient customs’. Regrettably, the verdict does not survive. While it is probably safe to assume that Richmond had certain advantages in securing a favourable verdict, it is to be hoped that his officer was not allowed to use the good name of the duke to perpetrate such an unjust practice.
It is, of course, hard to say exactly how personally involved Richmond was in preparing the cases. In a sense, that did not matter. If Richmond was to operate effectively as a magnate, then it was important that he was being seen to act like one. In 1533 when a dispute broke out over John Sidney’s rights to certain lands of the Manor of Lamarsh in Essex, Sidney professed himself to be ‘very loath to contend with the said Duke’. However, this did not prevent him from defending the lands in question from Richmond’s officers ‘with force and arms in riotous manner’. When Richmond applied to the king for a subpoena to enforce his lawful entry, John Sidney stood his ground and submitted a rebuttal to refute the duke’s arguments. Such issues were part and parcel of landholding in the sixteenth century, as men increasingly used litigation for all manner of ends. That Richmond sought redress from the crown, was not an indication of any lack of authority, but helped to underscore his position as the rightful lord.
Nowhere was this more apparent than in a long-running legal wrangle over the rightful ownership of a single manor in Dorset. When Richmond was granted the Manor of Canford in 1525, the dispute had already been running for eight years. In simple terms, the king claimed the manor as parcel of the dukedom of Somerset, while Margaret, Countess of Salisbury, alleged it was hers as sister and heiress of Edward, Earl of Warwick. Margaret had actually been granted Canford, along with other manors, in 1513 as part of the earldom of Salisbury only to have the king’s favourite, Sir William Compton, cast doubt on the proper descent of some of her lands. Margaret firmly believed he was motivated more by malice than by justice, because ‘he obtained not his purpose of her in marriage’. When she refused to take him as her husband he took revenge on her by suggesting to Henry that Canford and certain other lands did not belong to the earldom of Salisbury after all.
Most likely, William Compton would not have been as eager to pursue the case if his marriage proposal had been accepted. However, as steward of Canford, he had access to the title deeds and other documents. If something in those documents called Margaret’s title into question, he had a duty to tell the king. Wolsey mounted an investigation on behalf of the crown and, by October 1518, the manor was back in Henry’s hands. The king clearly believed the matter was concluded by June 1519 when he appointed Robert Bingham as bailiff and keeper of Canford, but Margaret was less willing to let the matter drop.9 It was not so much Richmond’s acquisition of the manor in 1525 which encouraged her to revive her claim, as the death of Sir William Compton in 1528.
The Countess of Salisbury was quite certain that she was the rightful owner of Canford. In her suit she told the king:
it is thought and advertised clearly by her council that she hath as good right there unto as she hath to any other lands of the said Earldom, not doubting that if his grace were informed thereof according unto her right and title but his grace would suffer her to enjoy them.10
In response to her charges the duke’s council set about attempting to prove his clear title to the lands. The challenge was taken very seriously. Thomas Magnus advised Wolsey that all the duke’s receivers and auditors in the south of England had begun ‘to search and inquire in every place of their circuit, for all such evidence’. Margaret, who, after all, had had plenty of time to marshal her arguments, was keen for the case to be heard. Magnus was determined to stall until the results of the searches were known.
His caution was fully justified. Richmond had had his own problems in asserting his title to the manor. Even armed with the king’s letters patent, the duke had been unable to take possession of all the relevant deeds and documents. Resorting to a bill in the king’s Court of Chancery, it was alleged that one John Incent ‘refused, and yet doth refuse, contrary to all right and good conscience’ to deliver up the documents. Given that Compton had allegedly found something in those papers that had refuted Margaret’s title, Incent’s action was more than simply inconvenient.
John Incent was the Master of St Cross Hospital, Winchester and ‘a clerk of both laws’. Since the lands had originally been purchased by Cardinal Beaufort specifically to endow St Cross Hospital he probably had a better claim to the manor than either Margaret or Richmond. Yet in his answer to Richmond’s bill of complaint Incent slanted his evidence to Margaret’s benefit. He claimed that John, Earl of Salisbury, had owned the manor, only to forfeit it to the crown in the reign of Henry IV when he was found guilty of high treason. In fact, the lands had legally reverted to the king. Incent also asserted Margaret’s superior title and asked that she should be called before the court in order to set out her own case in person.
Richmond retorted that the manor was his because of the king’s grant by letters patent. Margaret responded to this by claiming that it had only passed to the crown because of the minority of Edward, the late Earl of Warwick which meant that she, rather than the king, was the true heir and Henry had no right to grant her manor to his son.
Margaret obviously believed that she had the better claim to Canford. She did not dispute Richmond’s ownership of Deeping in Lincolnshire, which was also granted to her in 1513 and subsequently repossessed by the crown. However, Margaret’s argument did not take account of the fact that both Henry VII and Margaret Beaufort had held Canford in their right as Beaufort heirs, before Edward’s attainder. While the true heir was St Cross Hospital, the king’s title to the manor was better than Margaret’s and as such he could give it to whomsoever he wished.
In spite of this the dispute continued. In September 1531, Cromwell approached Margaret’s eldest son, Lord Montague, to try and bring the matter to an end. However, in 1533 his desk was still littered with various legal papers relating to ownership of Canford. Richmond’s residence at Canford in the summer of 1534 may either have been a final salvo in the attack to emphasise his ownership or a signal of the conclusion of the dispute. Either way the arguments seem to have run their course. After nine years Richmond was finally able to enjoy Canford’s parks and amenities in peace.
When a different sort of conflict broke out in Richmond’s lands in Kendal, it was again not in itself a reaction to having a child as their lord. Rather it reflected a deeper resentment already brewing within the locality over the issue of control. Richmond had held part of the barony of Kendal since 1525. The first indication that things were getting out of hand came in April 1532. William Parr, nephew to Richmond’s chamberlain, complained to Thomas Cromwell that Robert Tarne ‘a very insolent and light person’ had repeatedly broken into his park at Kendal to kill and steal his game and deer. There had been trouble on previous occasions when Tarne had verbally abused his keeper, William Redman. This time Redman responded with a few choice words of his own. A fight broke out and Tarne was injured. According to Parr, the villain now intended to turn the situation to his own advantage by suing not only Redman, but Parr’s cousin, Sir Jason Laybourne, who served as Richmond’s steward in the area. Tellingly, Tarne had acquired some powerful supporters, such as Sir Thomas Clifford and the Earl of Cumberland, who served as sheriff there, and Parr had no doubt that the true motive behind the case was their resentment of Parr’s and Richmond’s authority.
According to Parr it was customary for disputes within the barony of Kendal to be settled locally by the steward. However, he claimed Laybourne’s efforts to do so were being hampered by men like Cumberland and Clifford, ‘intending for ill will and malice that they bear unto my said lord of Richmond and me, to infringe the said laudable custom’ by using the king’s courts. Parr was being inundated with complaints from poor men who were being forced to make costly trips to London to try to seek justice. He begged Cromwell that any such cases should be referred straight back to the barony of Kendal. In an Act of Parliament passed in 1532 Richmond acquired further interest in the barony after an exchange of lands with John, Lord Lumley. The arrangement seems to have been in Richmond’s favour, and and the unfortunate Lumley was asked to relinquish a parcel of five manors in return for an annuity of £50. In the circumstances it was obviously intended to increase Richmond’s profile and authority as lord of the barony. It also had the added advantage of discreetly bringing the area more firmly under royal control.
The effectiveness of the new arrangements was almost immediately put to the test. In blatant disregard of Richmond’s authority, Sir John Lowther, the under-sheriff to the Earl of Cumberland, and other men, including Sir Thomas Clifford, decided to hold the sheriff’s court in Kendal. When challenged in the name of the king and Richmond not to hold any such assembly within the duke’s liberties, they openly questioned Richmond’s title. As Parr reported with some indignation:
I answered and said that my said lord of Richmond’s authority was openly proclaimed and rehearsed in the King’s market in Kendal under the King’s broad seal and they answered again and said that they knew none such.11
Since everyone was well aware that Sir Thomas Clifford had been present when Richmond was publicly proclaimed, this was obviously a lie. It did not bode well for their respect for Richmond’s authority, but it did set the tone for the disputes and disagreements that followed.
Although it might seem that Richmond’s youth was a licence to flout his authority, the duke’s interests were vigorously protected and continuously asserted by his steward and other officers. Then Henry himself wrote to the Earl of Cumberland, commanding him to cease his interference in the Duke of Richmond’s liberties. No one could deny the might and power of the king, yet even his letters had little effect and Cumberland’s men continued to harass Richmond’s tenants. In fact, for a time things got worse. Jason Laybourne sent up a list which set out all the ways in which Cumberland was using his position as sheriff to the detriment of Richmond’s legal rights as lord of the barony, including his efforts to indict Richmond’s officers simply for attempting to perform their designated duties.
Their actions were more an attack on the authority that Richmond represented than an affront to the personal power and authority of the duke himself. If Cumberland and his friends could ignore the directives of the king, any magnate would surely have encountered similar problems. As such, Cumberland and Clifford’s activities were a direct challenge to the security of the realm and therefore the crown, one that Henry could not allow to stand. With the combined power of the king, the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Cromwell and his own officers ranged behind him, it seems the balance of control finally tipped in Richmond’s favour, although the duke’s problems within the barony did not entirely cease. In March 1534 a band of marauders broke into Richmond’s lands at New Hutton to despoil his corn and wine and the duke took his complaint to the King’s Court of Star Chamber. However, there were no further reports of difficulties on any scale regarding Richmond’s authority as lord of the barony.
As the Duke of Richmond grew older his own involvement in such matters began to increase. However, even in June 1534, when the fifteen-year-old duke might reasonably look for some leeway to make and execute his own decisions, the king’s wrath might suddenly descend. After Richmond had returned south in 1529, his cofferer, Sir George Lawson, was one of those officers who remained in the north, but he still expected to receive his usual fee as a member of Richmond’s household. Richmond decided to discharge him from his post as cofferer, presumably to appoint someone who would actually reside in his household. As soon as he heard the news Henry wrote in astonishment that the duke had discharged an officer who had given such good service ‘whereof we cannot a little marvel’. Although he stopped just short of overriding the duke’s authority entirely by requiring him to reinstate Lawson, Richmond was told in no uncertain terms to continue paying his fee.12
Richmond was obviously keen to exercise the authority that his father had given him and he was happy to presume on their relationship when this was to his advantage. Matthew Boynton was only one of several of Richmond’s servants who carried a testimonial from the duke when seeking some preferment at court. Sometimes Richmond’s requests capitalised on other personal relationships. In February 1534 he persuaded Arthur, Viscount Lisle, to take on a certain James Bellingham ‘and for my sake to further and prefer him into such room of retinue as should then next immediately happen’. Sometimes the arrangement was more businesslike: the monks of Bindon in Dorset offered to take care of Richmond’s deer park, if he got them a licence to elect their own abbot. However, on at least one occasion, Richmond was to let his enthusiasm for a cause carry him forward, when prudence and mature judgment might have stayed his hand.
In June 1534, John Cooke, the registrar to Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, took advantage of Gardiner’s absence from court to unburden himself of numerous resentments against his employer, including the non-payment of his stipend. Since Cooke was also commissary of the Admiralty in Hampshire, one of those he chose to approach was the fifteen-year-old Duke of Richmond.13 The duke was sufficiently convinced of the justice of his case to write to Gardiner in Cooke’s favour, requiring him to redress these wrongs. Gardiner flatly denied all the charges and added a veiled rebuke that Richmond should leap to such conclusions and that ‘I should, following your Grace’s request made upon such a ground, give courage to Master Cooke in the exercise of his untrue reports’.
Casting his bread as wide as possible upon the water, Cooke had also complained to Thomas Audley the Lord Chancellor, Thomas Cromwell and the king. No doubt to Cooke’s dismay, Cromwell’s response was far less impetuous than the highhanded tone adopted by Richmond. Gardiner was to be given the opportunity to clear his name. With the matter thus referred to the authority of the crown, Richmond’s own involvement came to an end. Gardiner’s meticulous response to Richmond’s intervention was in a way an acknowledgement of the duke as a political force. However, Gardiner was also at pains to point out to the young and as yet inexperienced duke just how far he was deceived in his assessment of Cooke’s character, not only in this matter, but also ‘in the use of his office of the Admiralty under your Grace, wherein they talk of his demeanour otherwise here than I think your Grace hath heard there’.
Richmond’s judgment was also called into question the following year when the sixteen-year-old was implicated in worrying disorder in the Welsh Marches. Although the king’s preoccupation with Anne Boleyn might seem reason and excuse for Henry to curb Richmond’s fortunes, instead, in 1531, the twelve-year-old duke’s extensive holdings had been increased even further with the acquisition of a number of lordships in the Marches of Wales. In October 1531 his officers took possession of the lordships of Bromfield and Yale, Ruthin, Clirk and Holt and these holdings were augmented in 1532 when he acquired the former Dudley lordship of Arwystli and Cyfeiliog.
This was, in part, a reflection of a broader pattern to bring the Marches of Wales under closer crown control. Wales had technically been part of the realm since the Statute of Rhuddlan in the thirteenth century. However, there were a number of administrative anomalies, not least its division into a number of independent lordships which were ruled by powerful individuals like Rhys ap Griffith. This was not Thomas Cromwell’s idea of a well-ordered kingdom. In the light of Henry’s ongoing changes in religion, it was important to assert the authority of the king. A concerted programme of reforms, which culminated in the Act of Union in 1536, was already well in hand. In 1534, the appointment of Roland Lee, Bishop of Coventry and Lichfield, as President of the Council of Wales signalled a new determination to reduce the Welsh Marches to order.
Even as Cromwell organised a series of legislation and a goodwill visit by the king, Lee began an enthusiastic policy of change. He travelled tirelessly around the Marches, encouraging the law-abiding and striking terror into the hearts of villains, boasting that he had executed ‘four of the best blood in Shropshire’ as he left a trail of death and imprisonment in his wake. In 1534 Richmond’s tenants in Arwystli and Cyfeiliog, objected to the arrest of Sir Richard Herbert for the murder of Hugh ap David Vaughan. Protesting his innocence they declared they ‘would not keep court, nor pay the duke of Richmond money, as long as he was in ward’. By 1536, Lee was commending the same tenants for the taking of two outlaws, although he was convinced they were motivated more by fear and hope of gain than any love of justice. However, despite their best efforts Lee and Cromwell found that their labours were being hampered by the powers of the remaining marcher lords and chief among these, according to an estimation taken before December 1531, was Richmond himself.
In October 1535, Lee became concerned that ‘letters directed from my lord of Richmond’s grace’ were being used to ensure that certain murderers held at Holt Castle were being ‘respited or delayed of their trial and not put to execution’. The Duke of Norfolk flatly denied it. To his knowledge Richmond had not had a hand in any such letters. Lee knew differently, advising Cromwell ‘yet of truth it is otherwise as the said letters directed to the Steward there do testify by their subscriptions’. In the same letter he worried that Richmond should not be encouraged to support such causes, adding ‘it is not for his honour to see his badge and livery, as is by the parties alleged, worn upon strong thieves’ backs’. Lee was almost certainly thinking of the influence of William Brereton. The duke’s servant wielded no small measure of power in the marcher area as Richmond’s steward of Holt, Chirk and Bromfield and Yale and his conduct positively invited suspicion.
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.