Richard III and the Nevilles

By Sandra Worth

Ne Vile Velis, ‘Wish Nothing Base.’ the motto of the Nevilles, circumscribes a code of conduct that embraces not only deeds, but also words and thoughts, reflecting the high idealism to which this powerful fifteenth century family aspired. Whether every member of the clan attempted to live up to these lofty standards is debatable, yet there is evidence that at least one did try. Who were these Nevilles who shaped the history of fifteenth century Europe? What were they like? What did they want from the world or expect to leave behind, this extraordinary family who helped mold the most controversial--and from the Ricardian view, the noblest--of English kings? For that answer, we must examine their actions, interpret their motivation, and thus hopefully, glimpse their hearts.
In Daughter of Time, Josephine Tey writes:

“To be a Neville. . . was to be of some importance since they were great landowners. To be a Neville was almost certainly to be handsome, since they were a good-looking family. To be a Neville was to have personality, since they excelled in displays of both character and temperament. To unite all three Neville gifts, in their finest quality, in one person was the good fortune of Cicely Neville, who was the sole Rose of the north long before the north was forced to choose between the White Rose and the Red.”

Known both as “The Rose of Raby” and “Proud Cis,” Richard's mother, Cecily Neville, Duchess of York, was by all accounts a woman of rare beauty, imperious haughtiness, and a faith in God that misfortune only strengthened, never shattered. Cecily was also a woman of unusual good health. In an age where half the world's population died by the age of eight, she bore twelve children and lived to be eighty. By the end of her life she had buried them all except for her youngest daughter, Margaret, Duchess of Burgundy. After Clarence's execution she took the lay vows of the Benedictine order and lived in seclusion at her castle of Berkhamptsted until her death. Unquestionably, it was Cicely's spiritual faith and emotional discipline that enabled her to survive the horrific tragedies that marked her life.
Such was the woman to whom Richard was borne. All his life, Richard was to show a marked affection and regard for women, even after witnessing Marguerite d'Anjou's atrocities at Ludlow at the age of six, and losing his father, brother, Neville uncle and cousin to violent death at her hands the following year. Elizabeth Woodville's vengeful scheming plunged the land into civil war and cost Richard the life of a brother and many others whom he loved, yet as king, he pardoned her and provided her a large pension. Even Margaret Beaufort and Jane Shore were treated with a consideration that raised eyebrows in light of their treason, while wives of attainted traitors were given wardship over their young children and generous pensions. With women, Richard was always the gentle knight.

When Richard turned nine, however, his mother retreated into the background and other Neville figures stepped forward to shape his character and his life. In 1461 he returned from exile in Burgundy with his brother, George, and was sent to learn knightly conduct at the household of Cecily's famed nephew, Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick. Since George did not accompany him, we can assume this came at Richard's own request.
The Earl of Warwick, known as ‘Kingmaker,’ stands out in history as the mightiest, and the last, of the great English barons. He was the stuff of legends in his own time and songs paid tribute to his courage and exploits both on land and sea. His charm, as well as his courage, is well documented, but, by all accounts, Warwick's greatest strength lay more in the arena of diplomacy than in military matters, where he knew some failures. He was also a man who appreciated merit and had a democratic tendency to reward ability over birth.
Genuinely amiable, prodigiously energetic, richer and more generous than the king himself, Warwick exuded a magnificence and glamour previously the preserve of royalty. Edward IV resented that the French King Louis XI treated Warwick not only as an equal but cultivated him as a friend, and Warwick went out of his way to fan Edward's jealousy.

When Edward moved the remains of his father and brother from Pontefract and reburied them in a splendid ceremony at Fotheringhay Castle in 1463, Warwick bore his father and brother to Bisham Abbey two weeks later in an even more splendid ceremony. When, in the early spring of 1464, King Edward impressed a visiting entourage of Bohemian knights by a fifty-course dinner, Warwick immediately after dazzled them with one of sixty courses. Warwick's rivalry with Edward extended to the hearts of the people. Paul Murray Kendall writes:

“At his London establishment six oxen might be roasted for a breakfast; any acquaintance of his servants was free to bear away from the kitchens as much meat as he could thrust upon a long dagger.. When the Earl rode through the streets of London or passed through villages on errands of diplomacy or war, crowds of people cried, "Warwick! Warwick!" as if he were a diety dropped from the skies. No one was so splendidly arrayed as he, and none bowed so low in courageous salutation to the meanest bystander who would shout a greeting. He perpetually wooed the world, and for a time, he won it.”

All Warwick's impressive attributes, however, failed to save him from what was to prove his fatal flaw and his undoing. He suffered from an arrogance that impelled him into a dangerous rivalry with the King and a fatal struggle to live up to the title Conduiseur du royaume given him by the Scots Bishop of St. Andrews. That arrogance is suggested by his personal motto ‘Seulement Un.’ One can wonder, the only one to have what? Saved a ship at sea by his courage? Altered history by turning the tide of a critical battle? Made a king? Unmade a king?
Into this glittering household came Richard to spend the most formative years and, in all likelihood, the happiest of his childhood, the years from the age of nine until his early teens.
Under the tutelage of this imposing and magnificent baron and his brothers, Richard grew into manhood himself. Here he learned the art of wielding weapons and the value of discipline and hard work. He could not have remained unimpressed by the splendor and charm of a man who had won the admiration of the world, and for the rest of his life, we find him dispensing generously from his purse, even when he could ill afford it. Later, Richard would also exhibit Warwick's strong democratic tendencies toward his fellow man. His compassion and concern led him as king to strengthen the jury system with protections against bribery and tainted verdicts and to lay down qualifications for jury selection so that juries could no longer be bought. He gave us bail, the concept that all men are equal in the eyes of the law, the statute of limitations, and most notable of all, the presumption of innocence. He also enacted economic protections against unscrupulous sellers of land who sold the property to more than one buyer, which we know today as ‘clear title.’ Within a week of ascending the throne, Richard conferred knighthood on Edward Brampton, a servant loyal to the crown who had provided long and hard service to his royal brother Edward. Perhaps the fact that Brampton had been born a Jew deterred Edward from bestowing that honor. If so, that clearly made no difference to Richard.
Warwick wasn't the only Neville who helped mold Richard's character in those early years. One other must have loomed large. Warwick's brother, John, Lord Montagu, later Earl of Northumberland, and later still, Marquess of Montagu.
John, the soldier in the family, was a brilliant military strategist, courageous like his brother, but unblemished by the blunders that marred Warwick's military record. He remained loyal to King Edward and put down the Redesdale uprising after Warwick raised his rebellion, yet Edward confiscated John's earldom because he was a Neville. This bitter blow impelled John to defect from the King, and when he did, his entire army joined him. Obviously, he was a beloved commander. He was also a compassionate man. In 1460 Edward won the city of York back from the Lancastrians and freed John from the dungeons where he'd been imprisoned. Edward ordered the city plundered and burned in punishment for allowing the Lancastrians to nail the bloody heads of his father and brother to the gates of York. John interceded for the town, though the heads of John's own father and brother, the Earl of Salisbury and Thomas Neville, were also nailed to those same gates.
John's handwriting reveals a personality that had a strong sense of responsibility; that was analytical, practical and cautious. He used his excellent mind to analyze and prioritize information and he looked for his own answers, often doing what he thought was correct and proper in disregard of custom and convention. That independence is confirmed by his action when his brother Warwick broke with King Edward. In what must have been a tormenting and excruciating decision, John took Edward's side against his two brothers, choosing duty to his king over his bonds of blood. His handwriting also tells us that he was tenacious and scrupulously honest, and though he was genial and friendly, that he was a private person. All this sounds remarkably familiar. Like attracts like and it could have been no accident that Richard named his first-born son ‘John’ a month after Barnet.
The relationship between the two probably developed as the soldier, John, taught his little cousin the art of war and over the years came to be sealed by a mutual affection and respect. This is suggested by the events of March, 1471. Upon their return from France, Richard and Edward were swept ashore off-course at Ravenspur, within three miles of the enemy lines at Pontefract. John at Pontefract let Richard and Edward pass unmolested, though he heavily outnumbered them by at least three to one. His refusal to act on this occasion has led historians to put forward a variety of theories, but only Kendall has provided one at once simple and plausible. Affection had stayed John's hand. In all likelihood, John could not bring himself to execute—for that is what it would have been given his superior numbers—the boy he had trained and loved like a son, and for that he incurred Warwick's wrath and was whispered to be a traitor by Lancastrians. A month later, John died at Barnet, wearing the colors of the King beneath his armor. This is the Neville who struggled, under impossible circumstances, to live and die with honor
In stripping John of his earldom Edward made a terrible miscalculation; one which years later was to cost Richard his life, his throne and his reputation in history. Paul Murray Kendall expresses it best:

“He (Edward) discovered that Warwick's brother had crushed the Yorkshire uprising. . . Yet on March 25, the day after he formally proclaimed Warwick and Clarence traitors, King Edward took the earldom of Northumberland from John Neville and restored it to Percy. Edward's object was to bring peace to the north parts which had so often clamored for Percy's return; the trusty John he hoped to content by elevating him to the marquisat of Montagu, but to the man who had rejected his brothers to support his King the new title and an annuity of forty pounds seemed small recompense for the loss of a princely earldom. Though Edward's decision would soon cost him dear, its full consequences would be inherited by Richard, Duke of Gloucester . . . ”

On that day at Bosworth Field, when Percy sent back his refusal to support the royal army, Richard must have had the thought that were it John who sat in Percy's place, the answer would have been quite different. We can be sure that the outcome would also have been different. It seems that John never lost a battle he directed, except the one he had no heart to win.
Richard was half-Neville, raised by Nevilles, and married a Neville. When the Nevilles broke with his brother King Edward, the choice he faced had to be as agonizing for him as it had been for John Neville. After Tewkesbury, he saw to it that pardons were offered to all willing to swear fealty to King Edward. He obtained one for Archbishop Neville and the Bastard of Fauconberg. He secured the release of Anne's impoverished mother, the Countess of Warwick, from sanctuary and brought her to live at Middleham. He persuaded King Edward to give the wardship of John Neville's little son, George, to his mother, Lady Montagu, and on Lady Montagu's death, he and Anne brought the young orphan to Middleham to be raised like their own. For the rest of his life, Richard was the refuge and protector not only of the Nevilles and their kin, but of all those who had shown Warwick and John loyalty during the break with Edward: among them the lords Scrope of Bolton and Masham, Ferrers, Chartley, Fitz-Hugh and Greystoke; the knights Conyers, Ratcliffe, Brackenbury, and Tyrell. The list goes on. They, in turn, reciprocated with loyalty to the death.
Richard inherited Warwick's position in the North and John's mantle on the Scots border. He ruled the region so fairly and discharged himself as a soldier so well that he won the hearts of the North solidly over from Lancaster to York. In 1476 when Edward decided to invade France, Richard committed himself to providing one hundred and twenty men-at-arms and a thousand archers, a number so large he feared it would be impossible to raise. So many men answered his call, he found himself with three hundred more than he had promised. The expression “a good Dick” is a northern one and dates from Richard's time. He was beloved for his Council of the North, his empathy and concern for the common man, his generosity and fair-dealing, and he was respected for his integrity and capacity for hard work. In many of these qualities, he had proved himself very different from his pleasure-loving brother Edward and his greedy, grasping, selfish brother George.
No doubt the extraordinary Nevilles had something to do with that.

i. Daughter of Time, Collier Books, Macmillan Publishing, 1988, p.47
ii. Paul Murray Kendall, Richard the Third, W.W. Norton, 1955, p.65. Kendal notes that Warwick seems to have been badly rattled at the beginning of the battle of Towton, and though he won the first battle of St. Alban's by leading a flank attack against the enemy, he lost the second battle of St. Albans by failing to expect a flank attack against his own side. This attack, launched at night, rendered the stakes he'd driven into the ground, the traps he'd prepared and his guns, useless, resulting in a rout.
iii.John, Lord Wenlock, was a man of great abilities but of humble birth who owed his rise to lord solely to Warwick's favor.
iv.Kendall, Ibid, p.53. Peter Hammond gives a much later date. I have chosen Kendall's 1463, instead of Hammond's 1476, a thirteen year delay difficult to explain.
v. Kendall, Ibid, p. 64
vi. Cora Scofield, The Life And Reign of Edward IV, Longmans, Green and Company, 1923, Volume 1, p. 310
vii.That analysis has very kindly been provided to me by Master Certified Graphoanalyst, Florence Graving, a member of the U.S. Ricardian Society.
viii. Scofield writes, “the Marquis of Montagu was again at Pontefract but he “made no move—whether “with good will or no men may judge at their pleasure,” says the officially inspired story, though the writer gives it as his own opinion that the marquis was afraid to offer battle, partly because many Yorkshire men loved Edward for his father's sake and partly because the Earl of Northumberland, without whose order much of the north would not stir, “sat still.”’ Scofield, Ibid, p.570-571. Compare Sir James Ramsey: “In fact, the failure of Warwick's measures for resisting Edward in the North was largely due to the jealousies of the rival earls, Percy, the actual, and Montagu, the ex-Earl of Northumberland ... Unable to carry his followers into the Yorkist camp, (Percy) kept them at a disadvantage, leaving the timid Montagu afraid to act in a district where Warwick and Henry together should have been all-powerful.” Lancaster And York, the Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1820, p. 366. An examination of what is known of Montagu's life suggests he never displayed timidity or fear, before or after battle, giving Paul Murray Kendal's interpretation more credibility, “Yet John Neville could not have been ignorant of the invaders' movements nor afraid to attack them. At the supreme touch, his old loyalty to Edward and Richard proved deeper than his allegiance to his brother or fears for his own safety. Unable to bring himself to assault the gallant little band led by two brothers he had loved, the Marquess, sick at heart, slowly trailed southward after them.” Kendall, Ibid, p. 103. Also see Polydore Vergil, Anglica Historia, Third Edition, London 1555, p. 140 and The Arrivall. It is left for the reader to decide.
ix.Kendall, Ibid, p.95
x. After securing a pardon for Warwick's cousin, Fauconberg, Richard took him north to Scotland. However, he was forced to execute Fauconberg when Fauconberg deserted his new-found allegiance and attempted to steal a royal ship in order to join the Earl of Oxford in France.

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