Domenico Mancini de occupatione regni Anglie

By Annette Carson

Annette Carson, a member of the team that found the grave of the ‘Lost King’, Richard III, has produced this new edition of Mancini’s important eyewitness report. Domenico Mancini was an Italian visitor to London in 1483 who witnessed Richard III’s rise from Protector to King, and wrote the only genuinely contemporary account.

An early translation was published in the 1930s which, for modern historians, leaves much to be desired. The title and a number of key passages were mistranslated. In addition, Mancini’s misunderstanding of England’s laws and governance, and his omission of crucial facts, were left unremarked.

This is a more accurate translation and analysis which reflects the latest 21st-century research.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Jun 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9780957684072

Annette Carson

Annette Carson is a professional writer and has been an editor and award-winning copywriter. A prominent Ricardian, in 2011 she was invited by Philippa Langley to join the team searching for the king's lost grave, which found and exhumed Richard's remains for honourable reburial.

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Published by Imprimis Imprimatur

21 Havergate, Horstead, NR12 7EJ

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© Annette Carson, 2021, 2023

The right of Annette Carson to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the copyright holder.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978-0-9576840-7-2

In memory of Jonathan Hayes

Steel true, blade straight

Contents

INTRODUCTION

1. Historical Background

2. The Mancini Manuscript in Print

3. Domenico Mancini and Angelo Cato

4. Mancini’s Mission and Perceptions

5. The de occupatione and its Compilation

6. Mancini’s Authorial Voice

(a) His approach to his subject

(b) His sources

(c) His uncritical attitude to information received

7. Scholarly Assessment

8. Influence on the Ricardian Legend

9. Translator’s Notes

Endnotes to the Introduction

TEXT – ENGLISH TRANSLATION

Opening / Argument

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Historical Notes to the Text

APPENDIX I: Lord Hastings and the deposition of Edward V

APPENDIX II: ‘The Crimes of Richard III’ C.A.J. Armstrong The Times 1934

BIBLIOGRAPHY

TEXT – LATIN ORIGINAL

Libellus incipit / Argumentum

Capitulum Primum

Capitulum Secundum

Capitulum Tertium

Capitulum Quartum

Capitulum Quintum

Capitulum Sextum

Capitulum Septimum

Capitulum Octavum

INTRODUCTION

A note to the reader

Domenico Mancini’s account of the events that brought Richard III to the throne is a gripping tale by any standards, enlivened by his ability to pick up political leaks and royal gossip. But although he lived through these events and wrote about them within a few months of their occurrence, there were large gaps in Mancini’s political and historical knowledge of England. He was an Italian visitor, probably an Austin friar: a stranger to England and its language, on a mission to glean information on behalf of the French court which had just escalated hostilities with this country. He had to rely on informants to discover what was happening in government circles at a level far above his station, of which his comprehension – and theirs – was defective. To follow the events he described, and the extent of his understanding and misunderstanding, an acquaintance with fifteenth-century England and its thought-world is essential. The reader is urged, therefore, before proceeding to Mancini’s report, to take note of the following page or two, which introduce some crucial historical insights that Mancini lacked. They will help to provide a greater understanding of the England of 1483, and of Mancini’s perceptions of it.

1. Historical Background

We begin with King Henry V who in 1422 died Regent of France and heir to the French throne, leaving an infant son aged nine months. On his deathbed Henry added codicils to his will to provide for how he wished England and France to be governed until his son came of age. His plan, in simple terms, was to designate his two surviving brothers, respectively, as Regent of France (John, Duke of Bedford) and Regent of England (Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester).¹

In a different codicil he provided for the education and guardianship of the child king Henry VI, a task entrusted to a group of magnates entirely separate from the government, of whom the principal was the child’s great-uncle Thomas Beaufort, Duke of Exeter.

The King’s Council, however, whose responsibility it was to provide for governing England upon the demise of the king (pending confirmation by Parliament), determined that Henry V could not rule from beyond the grave; and although they respected his wishes relating to the guardianship of his son, they refused to countenance a regency in England. Thus they invented the unique office of Lord Protector of the Realm which carried responsibility for security: protecting the kingdom from enemies abroad and civil unrest at home. Indeed, the original title they gave the office was ‘Defender’, with the title ‘Protector’ added later: the eventual full title of Humphrey’s office was Protector and Defender of the Church and Realm in England and Chief Adviser to the King. Despite his designation as the king’s chief adviser, he was not the head of government: the King’s Council decided that it alone would take charge of governing the kingdom.²

Duke Humphrey, understandably furious, took his objections to Parliament but to no avail: Parliament instead approved the new office of Lord Protector and laid down its precise role and terms of reference. They specifically rejected such indications of power as were encompassed within the term tutela (wardship of the child-king) which Humphrey desired: the newly devised title was ‘not the name of tutor, lieutenant, governor, or of regent, nor any name that might imply authority for the governance of the realm, but the name of protector and defender, which implies a personal duty of attention to the actual defence of the realm, both against the enemies overseas, if necessary, and against rebels within, if there are any, which God forbid.’³

In summary, therefore, there was a tripartite dispensation: during the reign of the minor king (who would conventionally come of age at fourteen years) he would remain in the care of his appointed guardians led by Exeter; while England would be governed by the Council under Parliament; and her security would be entrusted to the hands of the Lord Protector.

It is important to emphasize the precise nature of this precedent which was unique to fifteenth-century England. No other country and no other century replicated these exact provisions, which were plainly adopted in order that no one person other than the king should be able to wield sovereign power.

Thirty years later, when Henry VI twice succumbed to mental illness in the 1450s, the senior surviving royal duke of the ruling Plantagenet line, Richard, Duke of York was called upon to take the office of Lord Protector. The incapacitated king was in the care of his household under Queen Margaret of Anjou, and the country was once again governed by the King’s Council under Parliament. An attempt was made by the queen at this time to pre-empt any protectorate by securing additional means and powers for herself which would have amounted to a regency in all but name (this was standard practice in her home country of France). Her demands were resisted by Parliament, and York twice fulfilled the office of Protector until called upon to lay down his charge, which he did peaceably upon the king’s return to relative health on both occasions. In 1460, with the country bankrupted and humiliated under Henry VI’s incompetent rule, Parliament acknowledged the Duke of York’s claim to the crown by lawful succession. York died before he could be crowned, but his eldest son succeeded him as Edward IV.

The precedents of the protectorates described above were well remembered by the King’s Council of England when Edward IV died on 9 April 1483, leaving a minor heir, 12-year-old Edward V, who was in the care and guardianship of his mother’s family. This was the juncture at which Domenico Mancini began reporting events to his French patron. By precedent the obvious royal figure to fulfil the role of Lord Protector during the minority of the child-king was Edward IV’s 30-year-old brother Richard, Duke of Gloucester, later Richard III, Great Chamberlain of England, High Constable of England, High Admiral of England, and most recently his absent brother’s general in charge of land forces in warfare. Mancini was given to understand that Edward IV’s will appointed Richard as Protector (see Excursus below); but while the latter was still on his way to London there arose opposition within the King’s Council to this appointment. Though Mancini’s account contains descriptions of some of the Council’s proceedings, he (and probably his source) had little understanding of the historical and constitutional perspectives that underlay their arguments. The power and influence of Queen Elizabeth Woodville and her family had been fostered by the late king to a considerable extent, and it is reported in the chronicle of Crowland Abbey that following his funeral, members of the Council ‘were attending the queen at Westminster’. There were at this time over fifty nominal Council members, but we have no record of who attended these deliberations or made the resultant decisions. Mancini names in this context the Woodville protégé Thomas Rotherham, Archbishop of York (who was a councillor) and the queen’s eldest son from her previous marriage, Thomas Grey, Marquess of Dorset (who was not). The Crowland Chronicle mentions councillor William, Lord Hastings who was one of the party that challenged the queen’s family in Council, as did other ‘more foresighted members ... [who] thought that the uncles and brothers of the mother’s side should be absolutely forbidden to have control of the young man [Edward V] until he came of age’.⁴ This was a sentiment echoed later by unnamed Londoners in Mancini’s narrative: ‘Several even said publicly that it was more just and beneficial for the boy-king to be with his paternal uncle [Gloucester] than with his maternal uncles and uterine brothers.’

Could it have been these negative voices that determined Queen Elizabeth Woodville and her family and adherents to make their move to sideline the Duke of Gloucester and press for Edward V to be crowned immediately? Already in control of the upbringing of the young king, as well as the ordering of his household and those who surrounded him, they would have been propelled to supreme power by an immediate coronation; in such a position they could override those who mistrusted them. Yet there was no great urgency for him to be crowned at once: they were a numerous group, pre-eminent at court, and adept at exerting their considerable influence. They would have continued enjoying Edward’s confidence and favour until he ruled in his own right, even were this to be delayed the full year and a half until he came of age. It was not necessary to diminish the status of Richard of Gloucester, sway the King’s Council to reject a protectorate and instead levy taxes, raise a fleet, recruit armed forces and requisition state funds before the duke was even half-way to London. As historian Michael Hicks has observed, ‘Nobody should have supposed that they could determine the minority government of Edward V without his participation’.⁵ As for Gloucester himself, learning that his long-established military authority had been suddenly superseded, his suspicions were raised and fanned further by information he received from various sources en route to the capital: a perfect storm in the making.

England would not quickly forget that on those occasions in recent history when a minor king had succeeded to the throne there had been instability and strife. In the painfully memorable reign of Henry VI, when over-mighty subjects had vied for influence over the weak king, the result had been years of bitter internal battles from which she still bore the wounds. Hence there was considerable anxiety at the prospect of minority rule. Equally there was concern not to hand over the office of Protector of the Realm if there was a chance that the bearer might use it to further higher ambitions. Mancini reports early trends of opinion in London which ran strongly in favour of Gloucester taking this role. But his tone changes markedly when he relates the account he has heard of Gloucester’s rendezvous, on the way to London, with the new king’s 2,000-strong escort commanded by the queen’s brother, Earl Rivers. There occurred a confrontation, of which no eyewitness evidence exists, during which Gloucester took into custody three leading figures of the Woodville clan. Their fate remained in the balance for the following eight weeks.

When Richard of Gloucester escorted the king to London at the beginning of May, he found the queen and members of her family had taken residence in sanctuary at Westminster Abbey. The Council appointed him Protector and drafted legislation for approval by Parliament that would extend his protectorate beyond the child-king’s coronation, now rescheduled for 22 June. Upon his appointment, as reported in the Crowland Chronicle, Richard received ‘that solemn office which had once fallen to Duke Humphrey of Gloucester who, during the minority of King Henry [VI], was called Protector of the Realm’. Mancini’s story then fulfils its initial promise to describe how Gloucester claimed the throne ‘not merely impelled by ambition and lust to rule’ but also by the affronts of the queen’s family.

Excursus: the office of Protector

Unfortunately, throughout his story Mancini completely misunderstood the role of the Protector in a minority reign. He knew it was not the same as a regent, but he seems to have placed reliance on persons who were unversed in the English system of governance, and from what he was told he took it to be an office that placed the holder in charge of both the English government and the late king’s children. Perhaps this was because he witnessed the queen’s party moving to fulfil this combined role upon the old king’s death, for which he then saw Gloucester as their challenger, and presumed this to be the prize.

Mancini reported what he learnt to have been Edward IV’s wish in his will: ‘he appointed as Protector of his children and realm his brother Richard, Duke of Gloucester.’ It is to his credit that he accurately gave the title ‘Protector’ without attempting to paraphrase or replace it with a term he understood: this tends to argue that he wrote down precisely what he was told. Few chroniclers fail to mention the will, and all that do are in general agreement that it provided for a protectorate under Gloucester. Its contents were not secret, and were already known to a wide circle at Westminster including councillors, executors and legal advisers.⁶ Since Mancini is never slow to state when he disbelieves something, logic suggests that his information as to Edward IV’s desire for a protectorate was probably right, if only because he neither disavowed it nor suggested that Gloucester’s subsequent appointment as Protector was in any way illicit.

The idea of ‘Protector of children’ was of course entirely wrong-headed, but was widely repeated by those who read or became aware of Mancini’s account, and is to be found in chroniclers from across the Channel like Commynes, Molinet, André and Vergil. These last two, with a background (like Mancini’s) steeped in European but not English history, were invited by Henry VII to record for English eyes the version of history that suited his new Tudor dynasty when it overthrew the Plantagenets. Whatever the nature of Richard’s secret ambitions, which Mancini interprets for his readers as longing for supreme power, the true parameters of his office of Lord Protector were limited to the defence of the realm. For the record, it is worth repeating the words in which the office was described by Parliament: ‘not the name of tutor, lieutenant, governor, or of regent, nor any name that might imply authority for the governance of the realm, but the name of protector and defender, which implies a personal duty of attention to the actual defence of the realm’.

2. The Mancini Manuscript in Print

The manuscript of Domenico Mancini is an exceptionally important historical source for the year 1483. We are fortunate that this valuable document was rediscovered in 1934 by the eminent English historian C.A.J. Armstrong (1909–1994, Harrow and Oxford) whose specialties were principally mediaeval Burgundy and fifteenth-century England. It was while working briefly in the diplomatic service at the Bibliothèque municipale de Lille that he found the Mancini document and proceeded to publish his transcription and translation in 1936. For assessments of the physical manuscript itself, the hand of its scribe (a French gothic hand, late fifteenth- or early sixteenth-century) and its provenance, Armstrong’s research cannot be bettered; similarly his useful notes on Mancini’s writing style and vocabulary; his work is referenced here with due deference and acknowledgement. This apparently unique codex, hitherto unknown to historians on this side of the Channel, seems to have been owned by Paulus Aemilius of Verona (died 1529, of whom more later). It contains the book-plate of Denys Godefroy (1615–81), who from 1668, together with his successors, presided over the royal archives at Lille for more than a century. Armstrong argues that it was passed over in terms of publication probably because its contents offered no material of use for the immediate purposes of the French crown. After the Revolution the manuscript was recovered by the Godefroy family along with most of their collection, and was noticed in 1841 in the library of Charles Godefroy. It was left to the city of Lille by his descendant Denis Charles Godefroy, Marquis de Ménilglaise in 1878, and was catalogued in the municipal library under Fonds Godefroy in 1897.

Armstrong’s work constituted a major contribution to the Ricardian canon. His Introduction and Historical Notes provided informative resources for students of the period who stood at the gateway to grappling with the murky world of truth and untruth about Richard III and his accession. Though Mancini wrote from a hostile foreign perspective, his is one of the few accounts written during Richard’s lifetime that record some of the political opinions contemporaneous with Edward V’s deposition and replacement. The only other major narrative source written close to 1483 is the Crowland Chronicle (specifically the continuations of 1459–1486, hereinafter ‘Crowland’), although the precise dating of the portion dealing with 1483 locates it within the era of Henry VII, a few months after Richard was killed at Bosworth Field in 1485.⁷

However, compared to the chronicle of Crowland Abbey penned in the fens of Lincolnshire, the misconceptions in the account of Mancini as a stranger to these shores, ignorant of England’s laws, precedents and institutions, are a major shortcoming. The influence of these misconceptions cannot be overlooked when considering the results of their repetition down the centuries with nothing to correct them. In these pages we shall aim to address those misapprehensions and flag up the long reach of their tentacles into later chronicles and narratives.

The great pity is that Mancini was a cleric who wrote his text in Latin and not in French. The known concepts and practices of European ruling houses of the fifteenth century, whether in France, England, Scotland, Burgundy, the Italian city-states or the Vatican, with their litany of changeable alliances, betrayals, assassinations and power-grabs, lend themselves far better to contemplation in the vernacular than to expression in literary Latin by a man of the Church. Set apart by the privilege of his religious status, the ecclesiastic Mancini was professionally given to moralizing, philosophizing and divining the inner impurities of men’s souls, where ordinary mortals might be satisfied with producing a more commonplace (and perhaps more factual) newsletter. He also had a duty to please his patron, a man of high political consequence with a thirst for information. An appreciation of Mancini’s text must needs take all this into account along with his literary and admonitory aspirations.

The edition published by Armstrong in 1936, with another in 1969 incorporating additional historical commentary, belonged to a