When the Island Went to War With France

Back in the days of old, back when I was still at school, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, I don’t recall the Isle of Wight ever being mentioned in history lessons.

As an Island resident, popular local history often includes tales of Pluto pipes, the “pipeline under the ocean” that was intended to supply fuel (but that didn’t…) to the British and American forces on their return to mainland Europe following the Normandy landings of the Second War; and it also tends to reference the failed attempts by King Charles I, to escape from Carisbrooke Castle when he was imprisoned there in 1647, during the English Civl War, .

Given that 1066 is one of the more memorable dates of British history, it’s perhaps surprising that more isn’t made of the tale of King Harold camping not far Brading Haven, back when the harbour still extended to Brading, in the months before the 1066 invasion. He waited there, in the Spring, in the expectation of an invasion force landing somewhere along the coast; but the invasion was delayed, and harold set of to fight battles elsewhere, before returning to hasting when the invastion did come.

Around the same time, tales could be told of the fabulously wealthy Bishop Odo of Bayeux, half-brother of William the Conqueror, unofficial regent when William was out of the country. Odo was well known to the Island, and whilst at Carisbrooke Castle was stripped of his position as the Earl of Kent by the King himself, after the King discovered that Odo was making a power play and aspiring to become Pope. There is also the legend of Odo’s gold…

But this story is not those stories, although it is a story of another Lord of Carisbrooke Castle, of another Captain of the Island: Sir Edward Woodville.

I’m sure you’ve all heard of him? From the later 1400s, the time of the War of the Roses?

If not, you’ll have heard of his sister. Or at least, her sons, Edward’s nephews: the Princes in the Tower, killed by Richard III to shore up his claim to throne.

In fact, many of the Woodville family had interesting tales to tell, starting with Edward Woodville’s mother, Jacquetta. She was sister-in-law to Henry V, the second of the Lancastrian kings, and aunt to Henry VI.

When her husband, the Duke of Bedford, Henry V’s brother, died, Jacquetta was still young, oonly 21 or so, and, amid some scandal, was quickly remarried to one of her husband’s knights: Richard Woodville.

Between them they had several children including a son, Anthony, who became something of tournament superstar, well known for his jousting ability, and another, Edward, who this story is about. They also had several daughters.

Like her mother, Edward’s sister, Elizabeth, married young, then remarried again at the death of her first husband. He had been a supporter of the House of Lancaster, but on his death, as the story has it, Elizabeth’s mother, Jacquetta, had worked some magic on the new Yorkist King, Edward the IV, and beguiled him with a charm that caused him to fall madly in love with Elizabeth. They married in secret, and ?? TO DO

Even if you haven’t heard of that Elizabeth before — Edward Woodville’s sister — you probably have heard of her sons, if only by reputation: they were “the Princes in the Tower”, as famously killed by their uncle, Richard the Third, who immediately put an end to any future claims on the throne from that particular branch of the House of York to an end. At least for a while. Because Elizabeth Woodville’s eldest daughter, who was also called Elizabeth, would complete the set of marrying into royal houses by marrying the first of the Tudors - Henry Tudor, Henry the Seventh. Again, you may not have heard of him, buyt you probably have heard of his son: Henry the Eighth, he of the many wives, and father of another Elizabeth you really will have heard of: Queen Elizabeth the First.

But this story isn’t about them. It’s about Edward Woodville, son of a knight to the brother of a Lancastrian King, Henry the Fifth, brother-in-law to the Yorkist king Edward the Fourth, uncle to another, briefly, Edawrd the Fifth, who died as one of the Princes in the Tower, and then uncle-in-law, if such a thing exists, to the first of the Tudor Kings, Henry the Seventh.

At one time, he’d been a drinking buddy of King Edward IV (his brother in law, remember) and he’d now been called up to court to be invested in the order of the Garter by Henry Tudor, which is to say, Henry the Seventh, who’d married his niece.

It’s 1488. Waiting outside, are two emissaries from Brittany. At the time, Brittany and France were two separate kingdoms, at loggerheards with each other. In previous years, Henry had done a stint in exile in Brittany, although it would end up being France who helped him out to take the English throne.

But now, with France laying claim to Brittany, and threatening invasion, the Bretons sought the help of the King of England they’d previously protected. Henry, who perhaps owed both sides his allegiance, had been given the role of mediator, but now the Bretons were explicitly asking for his help.

“No can do” he’d apparently said, but perhaps in such a way that perhaps included a get out clause … “No one from this island can help you” perhaps? “No-one, from this island, this island of Britain, of which I am sovereign, and upon which I now stand, can help you.” So did you hear the get out clause? Because Edward Woodville, now Captain of the Isle of Wight, and a long time ally of the Bretons, thought he did. That’ll be no-oe help from the Big Island then…? But that’s not the Isle of Wight, is it?

Woodville pleads with the King, but the King has spoken. And so, Edward returns home, across the Solent. To another island. Accompanied by the two Breton ambassadors.

After a couple of weeks, Edward Woodville has raised a force of 400 men or so, who are joined by 200 more from Southampton. They set off for Brittany, and are well fêted when they arrive: parties, celebrations, more parties. A truce is called, and the Bretons all but stand down, preparing the oncoming harvest.

With word afoot about the English support for Brittany, Henry VII writes to King Charles of France explaining that the force is a rogue one, an amateurish one, made up of thieves and reprobates, and certainly not an officially sanctioned expeditionary force.

But then, France makes it move. The English force, with foot soldiers wearing the red cross on their white tunics for the first time, along with a thousand or so similarly clad soldiers of Brittany to give the appearance of a larger English force, make their march against the much larger, and far more professional, French force, bolstered by elite Swiss mercenaries.

The English force inflicts huge losses on the French army, but suffers more in return. One of the dead, leading the charge, is Edward Woodville. The battle goes to and fro, but when a magazine, an ammunition dump, explodes behind the Breton lines, chaos ensures and France takes the field.

Several garrisoned towns hold out under siege for a few more months, and the French King writes to Henry VII, wryly noting Henry’s previous letter — I quite understand it had nothing to do with you — and responding in kind: we now have peace with Brittany were it not for a few troublesome rebels holding out in a couple of besieged towns. I’m sure you quite understand we must all put such rebellions down.

And so it was. Henceforth, Brittany would be a part of France. And of the Isle of Wight volunteers, led by Sir Edward Woodville, who took on France in support of Brittany, but one lad survived to return home and tell the tale. Sir Edward’s page boy, Diccon Cheke.

So next time you’re up at Carisbrooke Castle and walk through the gatehouse, often referred to in Victorian times at least as the Woodville Tower, see if you can spot the coat of arms of Lord Scales, Edward Wooodville’s elder brother and an earlier Captain of the Isle of Wight.

And that is the end of my story of how a small band from the Isle of Wight invaded France.