The Case Against George, Duke of Clarence
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George was on hand for Elizabeth’s debut at court in Reading in September 1464. It’s likely he was privy to Warwick’s unhappiness with the Woodville match, but less clear what he himself thought of it. Warwick desired that George and Richard would marry his two daughters, making the girls royal duchesses and giving the boys their inheritance. Edward was less enthused by the match, perhaps by now not trusting Warwick’s motives, but apparently also wishing to keep his brothers unmarried for diplomatic reasons in the hopes of securing the sort of marriage alliance he himself would no longer be able to undertake. He would eventually refuse it outright, incensing Warwick.
By 1469 Warwick had not only decided he had had enough, but he had convinced George to join him in an uprising against Edward. George’s thought process in all of this is unclear, though certainly his actions give us some idea. What we don’t know is how intelligent he was, how easily manipulated he was, the nature of his relationship with Warwick, or the nature of his relationship with his mother and siblings. What he got out of an alliance with Warwick is simple – Warwick had helped topple one sitting king already, this time he would do it to put George on the throne. George had been well-looked after by his brother during his reign, and there is no sign of personal animosity between the two, though it’s safe to say they weren’t particularly close given a simple lack of proximity. But George would have had every expectation that he would be a wealthy and powerful man under Edward’s rule, and given that in 1469 he was 20, he had long left Warwick’s household and would have been exposed to Edward, his court and his government.
Apparently George thought he could do better. Warwick, for his part, wanted a king that he could control and George, younger and willing to marry his daughter, was a seemingly safer bet. Rebellions in the north took Edward out of London in the spring of 1469, at which point Warwick and George disseminated rumors through the capitol that Edward was a bastard of his mother, Cecily, and George was his father’s true heir. George, meanwhile, accompanied Warwick and his family to France where he married 17-year-old Isabel Neville on July 11th. On the 12th, Warwick and George openly declared their support for a new uprising started by one of Warwick’s captains. The two sides came to blows on July 26th at the Battle of Edgecote Moor, Warwick and George won and Edward became their prisoner.
Outright Rebellion: 1469 – 1471
For about two months Warwick and George appeared victorious. Edward was shuttled between Warwick’s homes of Middleham and Warwick Castle in the north, while they attempted to take control of the government. On August 12th, they executed Queen Elizabeth’s father and brother (the one married to Warwick’s aunt), a move which did nothing to endear them to her. But England had just had eight years of relative peace and lacked the appetite for more war, particularly one that would have deposed a king largely popular with his people. Indeed, had Warwick and George been successful in making George king, it would have been the first time in history two deposed kings remained alive and in England (Henry VI had been being held as a prisoner in the Tower of London since 1465).
Edward was released in September after a light taste of anarchy in London and quickly resumed control. He forgave Warwick and George, ensuring they were at court three months later for Christmas festivities and forcing them to make peace with Queen Elizabeth and the rest of the Woodville clan.
The reconciliation wouldn’t last long, but here’s where it gets a bit bizarre. Warwick’s clear fury over having been boxed out makes sense, as does George’s ambitions. Their next actions, though, wouldn’t be as clearly supportive of those feelings for they aligned themselves with their former enemies, the House of Lancaster. Marguerite of Anjou had been biding her time in France for nearly a decade, raising her son and relying on the charity of her Valois relatives and Lancastrian supporters. Warwick, tapping into his relationship with Louis XI, allowed the French king to facilitate a rapprochement between him and Marguerite, who loathed him.
In March 1470 Warwick and George goaded yet another uprising and supported it, however this time they were less successful. The rebellion ended in the disastrous Battle of Losecoat Field and Warwick and Clarence were forced to flee England in a hurry. By this point, Isabel Neville was heavily pregnant. On the ship crossing the Channel she went into labor and, aided only by her mother and younger sister, gave birth to a stillborn child whose corpse was thrown overboard.
Warwick and his party began shadowing the French court, eventually meeting with Louis XI and submitting to the authority of Marguerite of Anjou, essentially disavowing the very existence of the House of York. So, what did George get out of this? On the face of it, nothing. Had the spring of 1470 uprising been successful, it’s possible there would have been another opportunity to be made king, but by the time he and the Nevilles landed in France, his chance had passed. Warwick’s best shot at victory was having the support of the disenfranchized Lancastrian magnates who already hated the Yorkist king, but in order to access them he needed to make peace with Marguerite of Anjou. And Marguerite was certainly never going to support George for king when she had a husband sitting in the Tower and a beloved 17-year-old son poised in the wings.
At what point George realized he had bet on the wrong horse is unclear, but it’s likely that whenever he did there was nothing he could do about it. Warwick, Louis and Marguerite negotiated through the spring and early summer and the final result included the betrothal of Marguerite’s son, Prince Edward, to Warwick’s younger daughter, Anne Neville.
In September, Warwick and George returned to England where their cause was supported by Warwick’s younger brother, John Neville, Marquess of Montagu. Montagu’s betrayal of Edward came as a surprise to the King, who was forced to flee England in a hurry for the Netherlands, finally ending up in Burgundy. Henry VI was brought out of the Tower and reinstated as king. Queen Elizabeth, for her part, had fled for sanctuary in Westminster Abbey with her children when Edward left the country – that November she gave birth to her first son, named for his father.
Meanwhile, back in France where George’s wife, Isabel, still remained, Prince Edward and Anne were married in December in recognition of Warwick’s success. And in Burgundy, King Edward was hard at work trying to persuade the Duke to supply him with men and money. In 1468, Edward and George’s sister, Margaret, had been married to Duke Charles and it was her influence with her husband that finally prompted him to take the meeting and agree to support the Yorkist cause. This move also led to a fun triangle of England, France and Burgundy all declaring war on each other in the midst of England’s civil war, because what else?
George was less than thrilled with his life choices. In the span of a year he had publicly accused his mother of being a whore, betrayed his brother, alienated his entire family, married into another family that had given up on him, lost his eldest child and likely supported the reinstatement of a government that would never fully trust or honor him. Even if he was named Prince Edward’s heir, he had no reason to believe Anne Neville wouldn’t subsequently give birth to healthy sons, displacing him in the succession. By January 1471, George had begun meeting with his mother and eldest sister, Anne, both of whom convinced him to desert Warwick.
He did just that. In March, Edward and the rest of the Yorkist army (supported by Burgundians) landed in England and instead of joining Warwick to meet them, George returned to his brothers. What George thought would happen next is anyone’s guess, but he appealed to Warwick to follow his suit and help Edward oust the Lancastrians…brought in by Warwick. Likely, they were far past the point of return and Warwick knew this. He refused to speak to George and stuck to his cause. The two armies would meet at the Battle of Barnet on April 14, 1471 in a fight that Edward resoundingly won and which ended in Warwick’s death.
Making Enemies of Everyone Else: 1471 – 1478
Edward’s victory would be complete by May when Lancaster was defeated at the Battle of Tewkesbury and Prince Edward was killed. Henry VI was quietly executed within the Tower and Marguerite of Anjou placed under arrest until 1475 when Louis XI paid her ransom to bring her back to France to live out her days in poverty.
George’s wife, Isabel, had left the Lancastrian party when they arrived in England and learned Warwick had been killed. Her sister, Anne, married to Prince Edward, was not so lucky. She remained with Marguerite until Tewkesbury, at which point she was escorted back to London and placed in George and Isabel’s household. Warwick’s widow, the Countess, had similarly fled the Lancastrians when she learned of her husband’s death, but she had less options than Isabel and she chose to seek sanctuary.
With the Countess and Anne were the widows of attainted traitors, George found himself in the position of controlling the bulk of the Neville/Beauchamp inheritance through Isabel, a surprising spot for a man with his track record for poor judgment and regular treason. But in the clear pattern of George’s luck, he wouldn’t remain that way for long and his younger brother, Richard, expressed a desire to marry Anne, essentially splitting the inheritance in half.
Whether George knew that his ability to access and hold this inheritance was his last shot of providing for himself while Edward remained on the throne, or whether he was just an idiot is unclear, but George decided to fight back against Richard. The two brothers sparred throughout the rest of 1471, resulting, at some point, in Anne’s rumored “disappearance.” It’s been reported that George either hid Anne deep inside London or that she, seeking to escape her brother-in-law, fled there for Richard to find her. In any event, by the end of 1471 Anne had been removed from George’s household and lived in a religious house until the spring of 1472 when she finally married Richard.
The long and short of the inheritance drama was that George received the lion’s share (which remains baffling to me, but Edward appears to have been a rather forgiving brother). What Isabel and Anne made of this unknown – we have no idea whether either wanted to marry George and Richard, whether their marriages were happy or how they felt about Warwick and George’s treason. The one factor that should be considered, however, is that they had known the brothers since girlhood, the boys having been brought up in their parents’ household.
For that matter, nor is it known when or how George and Richard mended their relationship after the showdown over the Neville fortune, or if they ever truly did.
The next summer, on August 14, 1473, Isabel gave birth to a daughter, christened Margaret. She would be followed in the nursery on February 25, 1475 by a son, Edward, who was given the title of Earl of Warwick at birth. She would give birth to a short-lived second son, Richard (at least one sign that George and Richard did make up) , on October 6, 1476, however the birth apparently took a toll on her health. She would die on December 22nd, prompting George’s downfall.
For reasons not entirely clear, George became convinced that Isabel was murdered. Specifically, that she was poisoned by her lady-in-waiting, Ankarette Twynyho. George had her arrested in April 1477, forced an illegal trial and verdict and then had her hanged, essentially murdering her. Simultaneously, George was pursuing the new Duchess of Burgundy, stepdaughter of his sister, Margaret. While Margaret was enthused, the new Duchess was less so and even less still was Edward who in no way wanted his treasonous younger brother running a crucial and wealthy European duchy. Clarence, once more, seemed to feel his that his rise to greatness was being thwarted by his older brother.
The”why” of what happened next is debatable, but soon after Twynyho’s death one of George’s retainers was arrested, where, under torture, he confessed to using “black arts” to imagine Edward’s death, leading to the conclusion that George was hoping and preparing for his own accession to the throne (despite the presence, at this point, of Edward’s young sons). George responded by bidding a former Lancastrian, Dr. John Goddard, to enter Parliament and declare George and his retainer’s innocence. George was then hauled before Edward who ordered his arrest.
George was held in the Tower of London and put on trial, at which point he was found guilty of treason and privately executed on February 18, 1478. Privately is key here, and a morbid show of familial loyalty, for unlike most executions of traitors, George wasn’t paraded before a crowd to be executed. Rumor has it that Edward allowed George to select the mode and George, partial to malmsey wine, requested to be drowned in a butt of it.
Now, why did he die? Of all the things that George did, what he was actually arrested for seems to be the least of it. But what is left out of this are reports that George had been re-surfacing the rumors of Edward’s illegitimacy (once again slandering his mother, Cecily, who begged Edward not to execute him). George had done this effectively less than a decade before when he rebelled with Warwick, so it’s unclear why this would grossly offend Edward now. Then there is the question of whether or not George impugned the legitimacy of Edward’s children via his wife, Queen Elizabeth. And this where the conspiracies get really fun, with some Ricardians alleging that George knew about the alleged pre-contract between Edward and Eleanor Talbot, which, if it occurred, made his marriage to Elizabeth null and void. And if that was true, then an argument could be made that all the York princes and princesses were bastards. It could be made because it very well was made five years later by Richard of Gloucester when he deposed his nephew and named himself Richard III.
Weight to this theory is given by the arrest and imprisonment of Robert Stillington, Bishop of Bath and Wells, for a few weeks in 1478, leading to the possibility that Stillington had knowledge of or had been involved in some way with Edward’s pre-contract and told George. It was Stillington, after all, who “broke the news” to Richard in 1483 that he, and not Edward V, was the rightful king because of this very pre-contract.
The power of this theory only works if you believe that Edward was truly already married before he secretly wed Elizabeth Woodville. But to do so is to ignore the various, imaginative ways that the House of York had regularly slandered their rivals by questioning their legitimacy. Marguerite of Anjou’s son, Prince Edward, was called the bastard offspring of the Queen’s affair with the Duke of Somerset, while Cecily Neville’s own sons tarnished her name repeatedly in their mud-slinging against one another. It was politically effective, with historians to this day debating these various women’s fidelity.
Is it possible that this is why George died? Sure. Any number of theories about who killed the Princes in the Tower are possible, and it is certainly possible, if unlikely, that George was an early victim of the 1483 rebellion.
More likely, though, is that Edward was older, more cautious and had no political reason to keep his brother around. In 1469 and 1471 he had been 27 and 29, respectively. By 1477/1478, he was 35-36, middle-aged by 15th century standards, and he had his son’s inheritance to protect. Faced with his own mortality and the possibility that he would die when his son was a minor or a young man, it was less benign to leave around a younger brother who had made his own ambitions for the throne so public. Richard, at this point, had never appeared to be anything but loyal.
And, by now, Edward probably actively disliked George. The 1469 rebellion was short-lived enough to be stomached. The 1471 reconciliation was brought about by political necessity and the overwhelming pressure of their mother and sisters. Had George kept his mouth shut, it’s possible Edward would have let him live as a courtesy to their female relatives.
There is also the distinct possibility that George was mentally ill, a theory that has gained traction given similar rumors that surrounded his son, Edward of Warwick. This is also a possibility, though I don’t find the arguments particularly compelling. To attribute madness to George due to a lack of comprehension of his motives feels premature, as does not acknowledging that Edward of Warwick’s mental health (if poor) may have been undermined by spending the vast majority of his life isolated under lock and key.