August 2021

On this day in history, 12 August 1469, the father and brother of the Queen of England were executed by the King’s former closest friend. How did such a horrible act come to pass? To set the scene, we must step back to the beginning of Edward IV’s reign, to the early summer of 1461. 

A Fraught and Fragile Peace

Edward IV was officially crowned king following his decisive victory at the battle of Towton, where the Lancastrian forces supporting Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou were defeated so soundly that all but the most deluded acknowledged that the Cousins’ War (later known as the Wars of the Roses) was finally all but over. After long years of strife and instability, Henry VI was deposed and the Yorkist line of the Plantagenet dynasty was established on the English throne. The new king now faced the challenge of restoring a workable peace. 

Edward IV by an unknown artist, National Portrait Gallery

Unsurprisingly,  Edward rewarded the men who had been loyal supporters of his cause and kept them close; notably Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, who had been the cousin and most loyal ally of Edward’s father, Richard Duke of York. The support Warwick gave to the Yorkist cause, ultimately resulting in Edward IV’s kingship, earned him the nickname “Kingmaker.” 

Edward also realized that in order to avoid further rebellions and keep himself on the throne, he needed to mend fences with the Lancastrian lords who had supported Henry VI. He pardoned those former enemies that surrendered and swore fealty to him, in most cases even returning their lands. Edward had learned from Henry VI’s disastrous early reign that if he did not rule with the advice and input of lords on both sides, he could just as easily be deposed himself.

For the first several years of the new reign, despite the addition of their former enemies to the royal council, Warwick enjoyed his position as Edward’s closest advisor and effectively the most powerful person in England after the king himself. In Warwick’s mind, he was where he deserved to be after all the efforts he’d made to put Edward on his throne: in a place of influence and respect.

The King’s Independence

The internal harmony at Edward’s court lasted until the fall of 1464. By September, Warwick had returned from the continent, where he’d been negotiating a marriage for Edward with the French princess, Bona of Savoy, no doubt pleased with his efforts and ready to report his success to the king and his council. 

Instead, Edward preempted his longtime mentor and made a shocking announcement: he had already made a marriage of his own in secret! Warwick was undoubtably shocked that Edward had ruined this opportunity to make an alliance that would strengthen England’s position abroad and cement Edward as the true king. 

Elizabeth Woodville, Edward IV’s chosen queen. Daughter of Richard Woodville, Baron Rivers and Jacquetta, Dowager Duchess of Bedford

Even worse in Warwick’s eyes, Edward’s chosen queen was the daughter of Richard Woodville, Baron Rivers, one of those Lancastrian lords that the king had pardoned after Towton. To Warwick, it was complete and utter betrayal. 

The Envious Earl

In the months and years after Edward and Elizabeth’s marriage, the king became more reliant on his Woodville in-laws. He rewarded them as well; Elizabeth’s father was made Earl Rivers, and her siblings made advantageous marriages with the other noble families of England. 

Warwick’s jealousy grew. Despite Rivers’ proven success throughout his long military and administrative career, Warwick believed that his own higher birth and his constant loyalty to York should ensure his unchallenged place at the top of Edward’s government, and he deeply resented the diminishment of his own influence.

Warwick suffered another blow to his pride when Edward refused to grant his permission for his brother, George, Duke of Clarence, to marry Warwick’s elder daughter, Isabelle. It proved to be too much for the earl to stomach. He retreated to Calais with his family, where Isabelle and George were married on 11 July 1469 in defiance of the king.

George, Duke of Clarence

The Kingmaker Strikes Again

Just a day after the wedding, the Earl of Warwick was joined by his new son-in-law the Duke of Clarence, and his brother the Archbishop of Canterbury in issuing a proclamation, officially stating their grievances against the state of Edward IV’s government. Naturally they could not take issue with the king himself; that would be treasonous. 

Instead, they leveled attacks against his advisors, including the Woodville men and even Queen Elizabeth’s mother, Jacquetta, who was not only Countess Rivers but also the Dowager Duchess of Bedford. Warwick declared them to be guilty of giving Edward poor advice that damaged the country’s peace and economic success, and he accused them of looking only to their own betterment.

Following that declaration, Warwick and Clarence readied their forces to return to England. Warwick intended to replace Edward on the throne with his brother. To him, any York king would do, as long as it was he who pulled the strings.

Kingmaker Captures King

Back on English soil, a band of rebels led by Robin of Redesdale had been operating that summer in the north, probably at Warwick’s encouragement. Their mischief had been handled easily enough by loyal lords, so Edward was not overly concerned. He had been traveling to various locations around the country with his entourage, including his father-in-law, Earl Rivers, and his two brothers-in-law, Anthony and John Woodville. 

In late July, Redesdale’s rebel forces were moving south, and the Earl of Pembroke took the royal army out to suppress them. The two sides met in battle at Edgecote Moor on 26 July 1469, where despite the earl’s best efforts, the royal army was defeated. Meanwhile, Warwick and Clarence had landed in England and marched to Coventry, where Warwick’s supporters were to meet and join forces. The captured Earl of Pembroke was brought before Warwick at Coventry, where he was beheaded on 27 July 1469 (see my previous post on this topic here).

William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, kneeling before the king

When Edward heard the news of the disastrous battle and Pembroke’s fate, he was farther north in Nottingham. From there, he ordered Earl Rivers and his sons to ride immediately away for their own safety. Edward knew his old ally Warwick well enough to know that his wife’s family would not be treated mercifully if they fell into his hands. Edward’s small force rode south, but they were overtaken by the Warwick faction and the king was taken prisoner. 

Warwick’s Vengeance

With King Edward in his custody, Warwick effectively controlled the government. He took this opportunity to eliminate several of his opponents, including the Woodvilles.

Richard and John Woodville, who had been sent to Wales, evaded Warwick for a time but were eventually captured at Chepstow and handed over to him. At Warwick’s command, Earl Rivers and his son were beheaded on 12 August 1469 at Kenilworth.

Anthony Woodville was also captured, but for unknown reasons he was spared the judicial murder suffered by his father and brother. He returned to London later in 1469, now as the new Earl Rivers, which must have brought at least a small measure of comfort to his grieving mother, sister and nieces. 

Anthony Rivers, 2nd Earl Rivers, kneels before his brother-in-law, Edward IV and his sister, Elizabeth

Sources and Further Reading

Higginbotham, S. (2015). Murder at Coventry. In The Woodvilles: The wars of the roses and England’s most Infamous family (pp. 53–61). essay, The History Press. 

Gregory, P., Baldwin, D., & Jones, M. K. (2012). Jacquetta of Luxembourg. In The women of the Cousins’ War: The Duchess, the Queen and the King’s Mother (pp. 132–133). essay, Simon & Schuster. 

Gristwood, S. (2014). Blood sisters: The women behind the wars of the roses. Basic Books, a member of the Perseus Books Group. 

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Time for another periodic peek at this year’s garden experiment, and another opportunity to explore the influence of plants on human history. This blog is all about documenting and sharing things I learn and today, thanks to several Twitter posts by talented historians, I was prompted to do a bit of digging into the history of Lammas Day. (As always, I am not an expert, but rather a continual learner; any mistakes are solely my own!)

What is Lammas Day?

Traditionally celebrated on August 1 and observed in Scotland, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Wales, and England as a Christian holiday, Lammas Day celebrates the first grain harvest of the season. The term ‘Lammas’ (or ‘Loaf-Mass’) stems from the Old English ‘hlaf-mas,’ and medieval customs included baking a loaf from the first grain sheath harvested. The Celtic festival known as Lughnasadh also marked this early stage of the harvest season and celebrated the sun god, Lugh. 

Today, the names are often blended or used to denote a general harvest observance, though they have rich and distinct histories in each culture. By either name, these celebrations also mark the halfway point between the summer solstice and the autumnal equinox, making August 1 a cross-quarter day on the lunar calendar.  

Garden Status on Lammas Day

On this August 1, my garden (and much of the Midwest) has been suffering after several weeks of extremely hot, dry conditions. It’s been miserable for humans, and even the most sun-loving plants have felt the strain. I must also admit: due to circumstances of…well, life…I’ve had less time to spend taking care of the garden lately, so I take responsibility for the effects of the mild state of neglect I’ve left it in. In the past couple of days, the weather has cooled down a bit, so combined with more regular watering, things are generally springing back fairly well. 

Of course, my garden does not include any grains, so the bread-baking aspect of a traditional Lammas Day wasn’t an option. However, some sources I consulted today indicated that, in addition to grains, four herbs are also commonly harvested on this day: meadowsweet, mint, sunflower and calendula. 

Calendula

Calendula is one of my favorites; it was one of the very first medicinal herbs I grew. Now it is an old friend that I love to greet again each year, and its bright, cheerful blooms that proliferate during the sunniest days of summer seem tied to the sun itself. I can easily understand the association between its harvest and this holiday,, marking the start of the transition from midsummer’s sunny dominance into the season when the earth starts to prepare for its rest. 

This season, the calendula in my garden have bloomed continuously and well since late May. Since I have limited space and therefore only a relative few plants, I do my best to prune the flowers at their peak to encourage the plants to continue flowering. Preserving the flowers at this time also retains the highest levels of medicinal benefit for the preparations I’ll make with them later. 

I knew what I’d find when I went out to see the calendula today: since I hadn’t been diligent in pruning for the past couple of weeks, I knew many of the flowers would have gone to seed by this time. In some ways, I was disappointed; I missed the beauty of so many golden flowers all at once. At the same time, however, I prepped myself to look on the bright side of a less-than-ideal gardening situation, which is something I’ve been trying to do more consciously this year. 

Instead of seeing flowers missing petals and dried past the point of much medicinal value, I strove to value them as the seeds for next year’s crop; this year’s plants passing on their legacy to begin anew next spring. In past years, I haven’t let blooms go to seed if I could help it, preferring instead to amass what they could offer immediately. Of course, that resulted in the need to purchase brand new plants or seeds each season. This year, I’ve tried to take a more measured approach – one that means I can take what I need from this year’s crop to make needed preparations for myself, family and friends, but that also encourages the plant to fulfill its natural life cycle and leaves us room to grow together next year.

I’ll leave you tonight with these snapshots from today’s calendula visit. As you can see, I trimmed quite a few spent flowers, which I’ll allow to dry so that I can preserve those seeds for next spring. Despite the neglect these plants have suffered in the past week or two, they are still persevering with new blooms – and now that they’ve received a refreshing trim, I hope we’ll see still more lovely flowers in the waning days of summer. 

Calendula heads, ready to be dried for next year’s seeds
Still some summer beauty left
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