Hello history friends! I’m trying something different today, so here we go! Usually when I go to write a post, I plan it out carefully in advance, do my research and have my notes handy before I start typing. Today, I’m going entirely off-book and simply sharing some thoughts with you about a question that occurred to me this morning, simply because I think you might enjoy mulling it over, too.
This is also not going to be a post about historical reality: in fact, it’s the exact opposite. Normally I don’t go in for “what ifs” very much, for a number of reasons: there are too many unknowns to predict with any level of precision; I prefer researching to speculation; and frankly I’m just not that imaginative when it comes to alternate outcomes. This one caught my fancy, however, and I just can’t help myself! So in the spirit of pleasant diversion, let’s speculate!
John who?
As the die-hard Hundred Years War fans out there probably know, today marks the anniversary of the death of John, Duke of Bedford in 1435. For those unfamiliar, Bedford was a son of Henry IV of England and brother to Henry V, and he was named Regent for the 9-month-old Henry VI when his father died in 1422. Bedford commanded the forces fighting in France on behalf of the young king until his death, just days before the Treaty of Arras saw his former ally and onetime brother-in-law, the Duke of Burgundy, side with the French against the English.
In a Twitter (I refuse to use the dumb new name) post commemorating the date, historian Matt Lewis hypothesized that Bedford was perhaps the best king that England never had. The idea has been proposed before, and it’s a fascinating debate. On the one hand, he was well-regarded at home for his sensible and measured guidance given to the young Henry VI, and unlike many royal uncles in the Middle Ages, Bedford seems to have been wholly loyal to his nephew and committed to setting him up for success. Some of Bedford’s contemporaries were critical of his unwavering devotion to winning the war in France on behalf of his brother (Henry V of Agincourt fame) due to the considerable strain put on the coffers of England’s treasury, but unlike the infant king’s two other uncles and closest advisors, Bedford did not engage in power struggles to advance his own personal position. On the other hand, Bedford has been justifiably criticized for other shortcomings, such as his role in the trial and execution of Joan of Arc.
Yet Bedford’s merits as potential king are still not the topic I’ve been debating today. What if, instead of dying at age 46, reportedly visibly careworn and aged from the strain of the French wars, John had lived on into his 60s or even his 70s, as was not at all uncommon for noble men who survived high infant mortality rates and other childhood diseases? Could the Wars of the Roses even have been prevented?
As I said before, this is not an academic article or even a very serious think piece. I’m not going to be backing up my theorizing with hard facts, so if that’s what you’re looking for, thank you for coming but you’ll want to exit now; you’ll be sorely disappointed and frankly I’m not interested in serious scholastic sparring on this topic. If you’re down for a bit of frivolous historical reimagining, though, I hope you’ll come along on our merry jaunt!
‘What If’ #1: what if Bedford remained Henry VI’s chief advisor?
Ask almost any historian today what caused the Wars of the Roses and they’ll probably give you a look of “are you sure you want to do this?”, do the deep breath/big sigh combo thing, and then start in on 20 minutes of detailed background and analysis that will still probably leave you with furrowed brow and muddled mind. This isn’t a dig at any of those historians; it’s just an acknowledgement of the truly convoluted fact pattern that led to several decades of internal war and several throne swaps between 1450-1490. For today, though, let’s do the unthinkable: pick out just a couple contributing factors and oversimplify them for our purposes.
Henry VI is often picked on as, if not the very worst, at least one of the weakest kings England has ever seen. That’s not an entirely unfair analysis, but in his defense, the poor boy became king of both England and France when he was less than a year old after his father died; he was removed from his mother’s care at a young age; and his upbringing was governed from then on by his two closest male relatives, one his uncle (Gloucester) and the other his great-uncle (Beaufort), who took opposite viewpoints on almost everything under the sun and apparently dedicated their political lives to bettering their own positions and one-upping each other without regard for the welfare of their nephew, their country or much of anything else. Add in that the job title of ‘king’ was probably the very last one Henry would ever have chosen for himself – he much preferred quieter pursuits like study, prayer and frankly not being continually pulled in opposite directions by everyone around him – and it’s easy to see that this heir to the hero of Agincourt was facing an uphill battle from the start.
Luckily for Henry, he had his uncle John of Bedford balancing and playing referee until he was almost 14, keeping Gloucester and Beaufort mostly at bay. After Bedford’s death, however, the tug-o-war over the king kicked into high gear, and Henry’s non-combative nature made him susceptible to the covert whisperings of his remaining uncles. Henry’s situation worsened in 1447, when both Gloucester and Beaufort died within months of each other, leaving the king without even the questionable guidance of his family and vulnerable to an influx of other nobles, all trying to secure favor with (and influence over) the impressionable king and his new bride, Margaret of Anjou.
The young couple, politically unprotected and insecure, clung to a small handful of close friends and advisors. Not only did that inner circle receive the royal largesse, but they had exclusive access to advise on matters of policy, finance and the ongoing overseas war. Far from being business as usual in England at the time, the exclusion of the remaining, non-favored nobles from the king’s council flew in the face of generations of English tradition, and those left out felt deep bruises to their pride and honor. Such ostracism led to active protests and eventually open rebellion from the Duke of York and his allies.
But what if the Duke of Bedford had survived his brother Gloucester and uncle Beaufort, not only preventing them from battling over the young king during their lifetimes but also remaining as Henry’s chief advisor into the 1450s or even later?
Given Bedford’s proven commitment to his role as the proverbial “mama bear” to his nephew during his lifetime, it would be reasonable to assume that he would have continued in that role, thereby minimizing the power struggle between Henry’s other uncles by arranging terms between them as he’d done in 1426. His keen administrative abilities and understanding of the important part played by the king’s council, demonstrated by his declared intentions to follow the will of the council in previous matters, further support a supposition that Bedford would have precluded the advancement of individual favorites that did so much damage to Henry’s reign and instead aided the king in drawing on the support of all his nobles. As the son of a previous king whose success and very life depending on the acknowledgement and acceptance of the nobility on both sides of the divide, Bedford would have known just how dangerous losing that support could be.
There’s no telling whether the continued presence of Bedford’s steadying hand could have prevented Henry VI’s mental collapse in 1453, but had he been present, it’s likely that the 64-year-old Bedford would have been put into the Lord Protector role once more, staving off power grabs from both Richard, Duke of York and Queen Margaret. A stable, well-run government during the king’s illness would have removed York’s initial reason for rebellion, which he stated was to see the king well-counseled by rightful advisors; without that motivation, it is unlikely that other malcontents would have had sufficient incentive to engage in internal warfare, either instead of or in addition to continuing martial efforts in France.
Despite the many arenas in which I think Bedford would have made significant improvements during Henry VI’s reign, there remains an Achilles’ heel that I fear might have undone his good works elsewhere: his overzealous commitment to continuing the Hundred Years War in France. Bedford experienced a long period of success following his brother Henry V’s death in 1422; the English situation was even stable enough that he was able to return home to England in 1433. The reprieve was short-lived, however, and Bedford was back in Paris by 1434. By 1435, just months before Bedford’s death, English fortunes had fallen far enough that peace talks were being held at Arras, and John was forced to acknowledge that concessions were unavoidable and reconciliation with the Burgundians was impossible.
Given the level-headedness with which Bedford seemed to approach most things, one would hope that had he survived, Bedford would have come to accept the futility of further fighting in France at least for the immediate future and returned to his nephew’s side to address domestic issues that had been pushed aside for far too long. We cannot know for sure, however, and considering Bedford’s obvious dedication to upholding his brother’s legacy, the possibility that he would have continued to doggedly pursue the reclamation of French territory, despite the crippling cost to England, remains.
‘What If’ #2: what if Bedford provided an alternate Lancastrian heir?
In the same year as her husband’s mental collapse, Queen Margaret of Anjou gave birth to their only child, Edward of Westminster. Despite surviving to the age of 17 and his father’s instability, this Prince of Wales never ascended to the throne; he was killed at the Battle of Tewkesbury in 1471, fighting for his father’s right to the English crown. Even had Edward survived the battle, it seems there may have been some concern about his ability to rule. Whether these fears were founded in logical fact or not, some worried that Henry VI’s debilitating condition may have passed to his son. Others were suspicious of his mother, the foreign queen, and distrusted what she may have taught him while he was in her custody during the wars. Another rumor persisted for years that even as a boy Edward was exceptionally cruel, despite a lack of documented evidence.
Regardless of the reasons why, the English nobility found themselves with a king who was frequently incapacitated, and a young heir who inspired little or no confidence. The alternative was the king’s cousin and next closest male relative, Richard of York, whose claim to the throne was debatably equal but who was not only an adult but also a tried-and-tested military commander and political leader. The dividing line between the two sides tended to put those who defended the king’s right to be king, despite his shortcomings, on the side of King Henry VI; while those who were weary after years of weak leadership and ongoing battles supported the Duke of York.
Our scene is set for another BIG ‘what if’: what if there had been a third contender for the throne, one who was more closely related to Henry VI than the Duke of York and also came from a line untainted by mental illness? In other words, if John of Lancaster, Duke of Bedford, had lived long enough to have a son with his second wife, Jacquetta of Luxembourg, could that child have become the next king of England and headed off the wars between Lancaster and York?
I can hear the immediate protests already: “but Bex, Bedford was married to Jacquetta for two whole years before he died and they never had a child! And he never had one with his first wife, either! It sounds pretty far-fetched.” Is it, though? While the duke died without a legitimate heir, it’s not unreasonable to consider that had he lived longer, the reality might easily have been different.
John and his first wife, Anne of Burgundy, remained childless throughout their decade of marriage, but we know that John had fathered an illegitimate son prior to their wedding. We also know that during her second marriage, Jacquetta and her then-husband Richard Woodville had an absolute plethora of children who survived to adulthood, so both John and Jacquetta were capable of having children at least at some point in their lives. Any number of reasons may have prevented them from having children during their two years of marriage, whether it was separation due to the demands of war, the impact of stress and responsibility on John’s health, or even Jacquetta’s young age (she was married at 16 or 17).
So if we presume that in our alternate universe, the Bedfords did have a son that survived, what might have made him a stronger candidate to be king than Henry VI, Edward of Westminster or Richard of York? Without drowning in the minute details of royal inheritance, let’s look at why Bedford Junior’s claim to the throne would have been stronger than that of York.
In the 15th century (and well past, but that’s for another day), the English monarchy was inherited according to the rules of male-preferenced primogeniture. (Warning: massive oversimplification ahead, but it should suffice for our purposes.) This meant that when one king died, his oldest legitimate male child inherited the throne. If the king had no children who could inherit, the throne might pass to the king’s younger brother if he had one, but if not, the throne would revert to the next oldest son of the deceased king’s father – in other words, the dead king’s eldest uncle on his father’s side.
In our scenario, if Henry VI was out of the picture either due to his death or after being ousted as a result of his incapacity, his son Edward would inherit. Unless, of course, Edward had predeceased Henry, had been declared illegitimate, or had been otherwise excluded from the succession for whatever reason. If we play out our ‘what if’ here, presuming the Duke of Bedford survived past 1435 and was still living at the time Edward of Westminster was removed as an heir to the throne, Bedford would have been next in line. To take it a step further, if Bedford had a son, that son would have also been the closest male relative and therefore next in succession after his father.
Why would this matter? Because the Bedford line would have superceded the Duke of York’s line, which stemmed from a brother of Henry VI’s great-grandfather, John of Gaunt. As a much closer branch on the family tree, the claim of Bedford and his heirs would have taken higher precedence over the claim of Richard of York. It’s possible that if the succession had passed to a Bedford, York still may have raised his hand and said “hey, if we’re passing the throne outside of the direct line to whomever has a claim…I’m such a “whomever,” so consider me, too!” With another ready, viable contender so closely related, however, I doubt York’s claim would have gained the traction that it did in reality, when he was literally the king’s next closest male kin.
So there you have it, folks. A few fun-to-think-about considerations, reflecting on how English history might have looked very different if John, Duke of Bedford hadn’t died 588 years ago today but instead continued in his role as selfless elder statesman and perhaps furthered his own lineage.
Further Reading
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