Elizabeth of York: A Tudor Queen and Her World (24 page)

Yet in the early seventeenth century, Sir George Buck wrote that he had seen a letter, now lost, which Elizabeth had sent to Richard III’s loyal supporter, John Howard, Duke of Norfolk, at the end of February 1485, the month in which she turned nineteen. The text of the original letter can now only be guessed at, for Buck only summarized it, and although his unfinished, partially holograph manuscript survives, with revisions by himself and his nephew, George Buck, esq., it was badly damaged in 1731 in a fire that ravaged the Cotton Library, and parts of the text are missing or illegible. What remains is as follows:

There are copies of Buck’s history in other, later hands, mostly with revisions by George Buck, esq.
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The younger Buck—who had not hesitated to revise and publish another of his uncle’s works as his own—extensively and (in parts) inaccurately rewrote
The History of King Richard III
in a condensed form for publication in 1646, and there are later printed editions based on that.
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Only in 1979 did A. N. Kincaid edit what remains of Buck’s original text, himself supplying some of the missing text—shown in square brackets below—from B. L. Egerton MS. 2216, the closest manuscript copy to the original. The letter appears there in a passage written by Buck’s scribe, in what Kincaid believes to be a fair copy of Buck’s original words, and parts of it are probably in Buck’s own hand; these are shown in italics below.
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This edited version reads:

The younger Buck naturally could not claim to have seen the letter, and his bowdlerized version of it is as follows:

As can be seen, this version differs significantly from Buck’s original text.

Sir George Buck—who was praised by his contemporary, the antiquarian scholar William Camden, for his learning—believed that the letter was genuine. “And all these be her own words, written with her own hand,” he wrote, “and this is the sum of the letter, whereof I have seen the autograph, or original d[raft], under her [own] hand, and by the special and honorable favor of the mos[t noble] and first count of the realm, and the chief of his family, Sir Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel and of Surrey, and the immediate and lineal [heir] of this Sir John Howard. And he keepeth that princely letter in his rich and magnificent cabinet, among precious jewels and rare monuments.” The text Buck cites bears similarities to other letters written by noble ladies in Elizabeth’s day, notably one by her sister-in-law, Cecily Bonville, Marchioness of Dorset, whose words, “I have none help in the world but him only,” are strikingly similar to those in the Buck letter.

Buck was not unbiased: his great-grandfather, Sir John Buck, had been one of Richard III’s household officers and would fight for him at Bosworth, suffering decapitation two days later; his children would be raised by Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, whose own father, John Howard, had been killed in the battle fighting for Richard.
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Buck’s ancestors had close ties with the Howard family and enjoyed their patronage since the fifteenth century, and his history was dedicated to his patron and distant kinsman, Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, who would have been presented with a copy
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and could have disputed any inaccuracy.

Thus it is likely that Buck was writing the truth about the letter. As Kincaid has demonstrated, there are relatively few inaccuracies in his long history, and he was at pains to get his facts right. He made some errors of fact, and of judgment, such as accepting Titulus Regius at face value, and his memory was sometimes at fault, but he brought integrity to his work, so it is inconceivable that he would have forged or invented the letter.

Arundel was a discerning collector of art, historical artifacts, and a great library; he was also the patron of Sir Anthony van Dyck and Inigo Jones, and at the center of a circle of scholars and literary figures such as Sir Francis Bacon and William Harvey. His magnificent cabinet containing the letter would have stood in one of the galleries at his
London residence, Arundel House, where his collections were kept. That he kept the letter in such a prominent place shows that he considered it one of his prized possessions and believed it to be authentic; and Buck’s emphasis on having been shown such a treasure may, as Kincaid suggests, be a compliment to the kindness of his patron. Arundel was prominent at court during the reign of James I, whose title to the throne descended from that of Elizabeth of York, which makes it unlikely that Buck invented any calumny about her; indeed, as Master of the Revels, he showed caution in licensing plays that portrayed women or the ancestors of the nobility in a disrespectful light.
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On Arundel’s death in 1646, his library was divided and given to the Royal Society and the College of Heralds. The Royal Society sold his manuscripts to the British Museum in 1831. A lot of Arundel’s papers are in the archives of the Duke of Norfolk at Arundel Castle; there are more in other collections. Others, inherited by his widow, were auctioned in 1720.
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Elizabeth’s letter is one of only eight sources out of the many Buck cites that are no longer extant. Given the widespread dispersal of Arundel’s collection, it is not surprising that the letter is missing, and it may still survive somewhere among these scattered papers.
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Historians have long questioned the authenticity of the letter, pointing out that Buck is the only source to mention it, and that he reports rather than cites the text. It has been suggested that the letter is a forgery by his nephew, but the manuscript versions give the lie to that. Nineteenth-century historians such as Nicholas Harris Nicolas,
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Caroline Halsted, and Agnes Strickland could not believe that their heroine had written such a letter, and scathingly dismissed it as a fiction or hearsay. James Gairdner thought it “revolting” and “monstrous”—a “horrible perversion and degradation of domestic life”—and rejected any suggestion that Elizabeth was capable of “sentiments so dishonorable and repulsive.”
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Strickland called the letter “infamous,” insisting that Elizabeth “detested the idea of the abhorrent union.” Her “sweet and saintly nature” would never have allowed her to cherish the murderous ambition of her father and uncles, or to wish her kind aunt dead. Why, Strickland asked, did Buck not quote the princess’s words directly? Why had no one else seen the letter? Buck was obviously “too
violent a partisan and too unfaithful a historian to be believed on his mere word.” None of these writers ever consulted Buck’s original manuscript.

Recently the historian Rosemary Horrox has concluded that “one can hardly doubt that Buck saw the letter and that his version is broadly correct.”
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One can therefore hardly doubt that it did exist. Many historians have inferred from this letter that Elizabeth believed and hoped that her uncle would marry her and make her Queen. Kincaid, however, concluded that, while the letter was genuine, it proved only that Elizabeth wanted to be married—but not necessarily to the King.
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She asks Norfolk to be a suitor “in the cause of the marriage to the King,” which can be read two ways, especially if a comma is inserted after “marriage.”

Recently it has been suggested that the letter relates not to marriage with Richard III but to that with Manuel of Portugal.
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In either case, it is credible that Elizabeth approached Norfolk, who had been one of her father’s foremost advisers, and was also trusted by Richard; indeed, the letter reveals that he had already acted as a mediator between Elizabeth and the King in regard to the marriage in question, which shows that it had been under discussion for a while. This ties in with Croyland’s report of the Christmas court. The letter was written in February, and there is no evidence that there were any discussions about the Portuguese alliances until March 22, when Richard proposed himself for a Portuguese bride. It follows that he would not have put forward the Portuguese match for himself while there was hope that he might marry his niece—unless, of course, it had been under discussion as an alternative option; the short timescale after Anne’s death might suggest that. But if he had considered it, there was no reason why he should have delayed negotiations for Elizabeth’s marriage to Manuel until after Anne’s death.

The statements of Croyland, the mooted annulment, the rumors, the concerns of Richard’s advisers about his marrying Elizabeth, and his public denial, taken together, are sufficient to demonstrate that there was something to deny, and that until the week after Anne Neville’s death his intention was to marry Elizabeth. Given its context, the balance of probabilities strongly suggests that her letter relates to that.
Indeed, Buck cites it in a discussion of this proposed marriage, so obviously he believed that the letter referred to it.

That being so, Elizabeth was actively pushing for the marriage and apparently ready to promise her all to the man who—she so recently believed—had her brothers murdered; indeed, she could not wait for his wife to die. This is not the Elizabeth of York we know in other historical contexts, whose gentle, giving, and kind character shines forth. Many have thought it incredible that she could have written such a letter. But it is not irreconcilable with what else we know of her—and it may have been written for her.

With no guarantee that Henry Tudor would ever successfully claim her, Elizabeth must have known that she would be far better off, and more safe and secure, as Richard’s queen than in the limbo she then inhabited. She may have been living in dread of an unworthy marriage being arranged for her, and in fear for her own and her family’s future. Probably she was ready to give her hand to any man who could put a crown on her head. Pragmatism, necessity, and ambition had overcome her mother’s scruples, and maybe her own, but in her case there was probably a more altruistic reason for pursuing the marriage with the King.

According to Bernard André, Elizabeth had always shown “a truly wonderful obedience” to her mother. Even if she personally shrank from doing Elizabeth Wydeville’s bidding in this case, she bore “toward her brothers and sisters an unbounded love,” which André says “was unheard of, and almost incredible.” This is borne out by her kindness and generosity to her sisters later in life. Very probably she consented to the marriage for love of her mother and sisters, sacrificing herself to ensure their futures and prevent their situation from becoming any worse. Her becoming Queen would restore their lost prestige; and she would be in a position to use her influence on their behalf, particularly in regard to finding husbands for her sisters. The advantages of such a marriage were sufficiently powerful considerations to outweigh any revulsion or fears she might have felt, and Elizabeth probably saw it as the only way of ensuring her own and her family’s future security. This would explain why she was so eager to have it concluded and so rescue them all from their invidious situation. Her pursuance of the marriage
is in keeping with the Elizabeth who is so proactive in “The Song of Lady Bessy” (see
Chapter 6
), an Elizabeth who will fade gracefully and wordlessly into the shadows once she achieves her ambition, and of whom there are only tantalizing glimpses in later years.

It may seem odd that Norfolk would be interceding with the King on Elizabeth’s behalf for a marriage they both knew he wanted. Yet she seems to have been very much in the dark as to what was going on. Buck thought her naïve in thinking that Richard could not marry her while his wife still lived.
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Evidently she did not know that the subject of an annulment had been raised. Buck observed that “by this letter, it may be observed that this young lady was inexpert in worldly affairs.” But her mother was not, and the letter may well have been a diplomatic ploy to bring Richard to the point and discover his true intentions, which he was reluctant to declare while his wife lived. Indeed, the words could have been dictated by Elizabeth Wydeville,
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in which case Elizabeth had probably returned to Heytesbury after Christmas, which would explain why she was writing to Norfolk rather than approaching him personally. Indeed, it is unlikely she would have sent such a letter without her mother’s knowledge and approval.
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