Stupidly, I've recently gone crazy with buying books - I currently have about 30 which need reading, 6 of which I'm trying to get through from the university library. As a history student, unfortunately, I get so passionate about wanting to discover the past that I feel I have to read constantly, and I've got this notion into my head that I need to know about every period and nation, not just early modern England. Anyway, I thought I'd post on someone who's fascinated me for a long time now, Margaret of Anjou, the subject of one of those said books I've taken out from the library.
Studying A Level Tudor History, with one module on the Wars of the Roses during the period 1450-1485, was incredible to me in allowing me to discover some of the most extraordinary women who lived in that period: Elizabeth Woodville, Margaret Beaufort, and of course, Margaret queen of England herself. Taking for this blog's post the book Margaret of Anjou: Queenship and Power in Late Medieval England by Helen E. Maurer, this post will explore Margaret's controversial but remarkable life as wife of the notoriously inept Henry VI of England. Was she the 'she-wolf' immortalised by Shakespeare's compelling lines? Or was she a powerful political player who genuinely sought to bring a measure of stability to a faction-ridden and corrupt English court?
Maurer makes the very true point when starting
her book that the likes of Shakespeare have influenced our understandings of
Margaret as 'a vengeful and a violent woman', 'a bitch, an adulterous she-wolf
who mocks her captive enemy, Richard, duke of York, before killing him in cold
blood'.
More to the point, Maurer insists that since Shakespeare, most modern
historians have generally agreed with his verdict of Margaret, though
recognising the inaccuracies and exaggerations which plague his play. Maurer
laments that serious academics have spoken of ‘the queen’s harsh determination’,
her ‘unforgiving severity’ towards the Yorkists.
One cannot but agree with Maurer when she notes somewhat ironically that this
fails to take into consideration Margaret’s incredible leadership and political
abilities at an unstable court. But there is a likely reason for such harsh
judgments persisting in relation to this late medieval queen: ‘until quite
recently all western history was
male-centered as a matter of course. The problem that this poses for the
inclusion and study of anachronistically prominent women is that they have had
to be fitted into male standards and constructs, present as well as past. The
result too often has been judgment rather than analysis’.
This, of course, is true in relation to other
queens of this period. Retha M. Warnicke critically notes that, writing of Anne
Boleyn, ‘in histories that treat men as three-dimensional and complex
personalities, the women shine forth in universal stereotypes: the shrew, the
whore, the tease, the shy virgin, or the blessed mother’.
Similarly, Katherine Howard, who supposedly deviated from notions of the ideal
woman in early modern England, was condemned as a whore and traitoress and
suffered execution for it.
In view of this, Maurer’s insistence that we utilise gender as a central
historical category of analysis is compelling: ‘just as the addition of gender
helps to make the political story clearer, so the chaotic political history of
the Wars of the Roses cast the gender issues into high relief’.
In view of this, this article will attempt to
survey the events (diplomatic, political, social, factional) of Margaret’s life
through a gendered framework, paying critical attention to the difference her
sex made and notions of the female sex. This is essential since ‘in order to
move beyond the traditional picture of Margaret’s activities (ie. which
eventually condemn her as an adulteress, a shrew and a she-wolf), the very real
issue of gender must be engaged’.
Born in March 1430 to René, duke of Anjou and
his wife Isabelle daughter and heir of Charles II duke of Lorraine, Margaret
was born into a prominent European royal family during this period and thus, in
the words of Diana E. S. Dunn, ‘destined her from birth to be a pawn in the
complexities of European diplomacy’.
European politics governed Margaret’s course of life, which must be considered
from both French and an English perspective. In terms of England, Henry VI had
acceded to the throne in 1422 aged just nine months following the death of his
renowned father Henry V, who had brought prestige and glory to the English
crown through his military victories abroad and his claims to the crown of
France. This, however, provided a situation of conflict, crisis and factional
discontent, a common occurrence when a minor acceded to the crown. Henry,
having reached his majority, sought a bride in the early 1440s; an essential
element of kingship was the fathering of a male heir who could then succeed his
father peacefully following his father’s death. It is not surprising that Henry
sought a French princess as his bride – the majority of queens since the Norman
Conquest in 1066 had been of the French royal house.
Yet this did occur at a time when English dominance in France was slowly
fading, since the French had managed to recover some English-held territory
while attempts to achieve a settlement between the powers failed.
In terms of Margaret’s perspective, the marriage
alliance with England represented a prestigious match for Margaret’s father,
while it also brought a fundamental source of influence at the English court to
the French monarch Charles VII. Margaret was able to bring important links with
parts of the French kingdom, including the duchies of Lorraine and Bar,
although her dowry was ‘meagre’.
Yet the English desire to effect an alliance with France probably dispelled any
annoyance at the prospective queen’s unremarkable dowry.
How Margaret felt about her prospective
bridegroom, Henry VI, we cannot tell. She may have held a negative opinion
about his father, Henry V, gained from stories of his exploits in France and
his undermining of the French kingdom during the early fifteenth century.
Nonetheless, the opportunity to become queen of England was a significant and
exciting one, and probably the best match she was ever likely to make. In 1445,
aged fifteen – this youthful age was not seen as representing particular
problems; Isabella of France had wed Richard II aged twelve, while Katherine
Howard may have been only around fifteen at marriage – Margaret arrived in
England and in May the king presented her with jewels fit for a queen, before
marrying Henry at Titchfield Abbey and being crowned on 30 May in Westminster
Abbey.
Margaret was later described as being ‘a most handsome woman, though somewhat
dark and not so beautiful’ as Bianca Maria Visconti, duchess of Milan, although
she had very long hair worn loose at her coronation.
Margaret was well aware of the duties she was expected to fulfil as queen:
namely, produce a male heir in order to ensure the continuation of the
Lancastrian dynasty, and to bring political and social stability to a
faction-ridden and economically unstable kingdom. It is unsurprising, in view
of this, that there was considerable hope and expectation at the royal wedding.
Margaret was granted 10,000 marks per annum as
the new queen of England by parliament in March 1446, and estates worth £2000
per annum were settled on her from the duchy of Lancaster.
As has been noted in relation to Anne Boleyn, Margaret’s elevated status had
meant she became a woman of considerable economic power as a landowner and a
source of patronage in the English court.
Margaret’s marriage was initially successful, and she was a strong queen
consort. However, her inability in the early years of her marriage to Henry VI
to produce a son must have caused considerable concern at the court. Whether or
not this was Margaret’s fault is impossible to discern. Viewing her life
through a gendered framework, it is plausible to argue that, by virtue of their
sex, failures in pregnancy were attributed to queens, as seen in the case of
Henry VIII’s queens. Despite this, she was a strong figure, ‘a determined and
effective distributor of patronage, and a woman concerned for the welfare of
her household servants’.
Evidence of her patronage exists in her founding Queen’s College, Cambridge in
1448, shortly after her husband’s foundation of King’s College. Her excellent
upbringing as a princess of the royal house of France undoubtedly benefited her,
allowing her to act in her role with dignity, compassion and political sense.
Yet unsettling events in her adopted country were soon to threaten Margaret’s
stability as queen.
In April 1453, famously, Henry VI collapsed with
a very serious physical and mental illness, commonly believed by historians to
have been schizophrenia. This was highly unfortunate, for Margaret had fallen
pregnant that year, and when in March 1454 her son Edward was born, the king
was unable to recognise him. In view of both her son’s birth and her husband’s
mental collapse, Margaret ‘was forced into the centre of the political arena,
as control of her husband and son became the focus of competing groups among
the nobility’.
We therefore must reconsider our interpretation of Margaret’s character and
behaviour in view of these events. The argument that she was a cold and
ruthless ‘she-wolf’ who ambitiously sought power and political advantage for
both herself and her ‘party’ at court is nonsensical in view of the events
which occurred in 1453-4. By stepping into the centre of power, Margaret was
acting logically and common sensically, determined to preserve her lineage and
ensure the position of her husband the king was not undermined further. We
should recognise these actions as courageous and representative of a strong
woman acting on her own in a ruthless court which viewed ruling women in a
hostile manner. Of course, contemporary gender beliefs among courtiers did not
lead to this view, and beginning with these events, Margaret became
increasingly unpopular. Her bid for the regency failed, and Richard duke of
York, later her enemy, filled that position instead.
Margaret probably viewed York as a very serious
threat to her son’s position, for royal blood flowed in the veins of York and
his family. Yet it is unlikely that there had been long-standing hostility and
hatred between the two, as Dunn makes clear. Of course, factional discontent
intensified following York’s appointment, culminating in the first Battle of St
Albans in 1455 whereby Margaret’s ally, the duke of Somerset, was murdered, and
York’s party emerged triumphant. However, York was forced to resign the
protectorate in 1456, allowing Margaret to regain a sense of political
authority within the English court. She and Edward departed from London to take
up residence in Kenilworth, before being joined in August by the king, who
later recovered miraculously from his illness. Margaret played a strong and
active role in her son’s household, controlling appointments to his council and
ensuring that her supporters within the Lancastrian monarchy filled vital
roles. A reconciliation between the Yorkists and Lancastrians was sought by
King Henry in 1458, known as the ‘Loveday’, where the queen was to walk with
her enemy York hand-in-hand in a procession in the streets of London. However,
it was nothing but a sham, and factional discontent had worsened by spring
1459.
Further battles, in what became known as the
Wars of the Roses, occurred shortly afterwards, which Margaret was to play a
prominent role in – allegedly, she watched the battle of Bloreheath from
Mucklestone church tower, a story which Dunn dismisses as false.
Nonetheless, it does indicate that Margaret had taken over the reins of the Lancastrian
government in this period of time following her husband’s intermittent
illnesses and his ever-present political weaknesses and ineptitude. Following
Henry’s capture at Northampton in 1460, Margaret and her son fled to Scotland,
and following the Yorkists’ victory at Towton in 1461, which culminated in the
accession of Edward IV, the Lancastrian royal family again fled to Scotland for
safety.
The next 10 years saw Margaret attempting to regain
the crown, which she saw as rightfully hers. Contemporaries, who resented
powerful women in prominent government positions, characterised her as scheming
and ruthless, but a more nuanced position allows us to view her efforts as commendable,
in a way similar to those of Katherine of Aragon’s some seventy years later
although in an entirely different context: she believed that she and her
husband were the rightful king and queen of England, and she was determined to
preserve her family’s inheritance. While prominent nobles, such as Somerset,
Exeter and Pembroke remained loyal to the Lancastrians, a lack of money and
committed political backing severely hampered Margaret’s efforts to regain the
crown.
In 1462, Margaret and her son departed for
France, perhaps hoping for more effective aid there. A meeting with the French
king Louis XI was fairly successful: Margaret promised to renounce Calais to
the French in return for a loan of 20,000 francs. A mutual friendship was later
signed. Yet the period 1463-1468 was a dismal failure for Margaret, as Louis
renounced his promises and the weakening of the Lancastrian cause. However, the
growing disaffection of Margaret’s enemy York’s son Warwick, known as ‘the
Kingmaker’, with the English king meant a new development in Margaret’s
condition. Although Margaret initially refused to listen to Warwick when he
journeyed to France, she was later encouraged to listen to his promises,
agreeing to the marriage of her son Edward to Warwick’s daughter Anne Neville.
Later sailing to England, Margaret’s cause fell irrevocably apart in 1471
following the brief return of her husband to the kingship. Margaret was
informed of her son’s death in battle, something which must have meant her
world fell apart. She was later brought in a carriage as a prisoner through the
streets of London, followed by King Edward in his triumphant procession through
London. Henry VI, her husband, was probably murdered that night in May 1471 in
the Tower. The fact that both her husband and heir had died completely changed
Margaret’s position, and the grief and shock she must have experienced is
unimaginable.
Not much is known about Margaret’s final decade, but
she died in August 1482, a tragic and obscure ending to an initially glittering
career and eventual failure. She was buried in Angers Cathedral, neglected by
her family, forced to renounce her claims to the Angevin inheritance by King
Louis. Yet, as Dunn concludes, ‘of all medieval queens consort, Margaret has
received some of the harshest criticism from both contemporary commentators and
later historians’, which Maurer of course exemplifies through criticising conceptions
of Margaret as a ‘bitch’ and ‘she-wolf’.
Dunn’s conclusion is compelling: ‘... she was subsequently forced, by political
circumstance and the weakness of her husband, to take on a much more active
role in politics in order to protect both her own position and that of her son’.
Yet, to most people, like Isabella queen of Edward II and Anne Boleyn, Margaret
remains a ‘she-wolf’, an unnaturally ruthless and powerful queen consort who
meddled in politics enthusiastically, a place not fit for a medieval woman.
Surely we should alter our views of her and recognise her for what she was: a
strong, intelligent, pragmatic woman who sought to preserve her family’s
inheritance and retain stability within the English monarchy. Her husband’s
madness and the factional discontent and corruption pervading the court can
hardly be blamed on her. It is time to reappraise our views of this mysterious,
but notorious, queen of England.
