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T
this time the King began again to be haunted with sprites; by the
magic and curious arts of the Lady Margaret; who raised up the ghost
of Richard Duke of York (second son to King Edward the Fourth) to
walk and vex the King. This was a finer counterfeit stone than
Lambert Symnell; better done, and worn upon greater hands; being
graced after with the wearing of a King of France and a King of
Scotland, not of a Duchess of Burgundy only. And for Symnell, there
was not much in him, more than that he was a handsome boy, and did
not shame his robes. But this youth (of whom we are now to speak) was
such a mercurial, as the like hath seldom been known; and could make
his own part, if any time he chanced to be out. Wherefore this being
one of the strangest examples of a personation, that ever was in elder
or later times, it deserveth to be discovered and related at the
full: although the King’s manner of shewing things by pieces, and
dark-lights, hath so muffled it, that it hath left it almost as a
mystery to this day.
2. The Lady Margaret,
whom the King’s friends called Juno, because she was to him as Juno was
to Aeneas, stirring both heaven and hell to do him mischief, for a
foundation of her particular practices against him did continually by
all means possible nourish, maintain, and divulge the flying opinion
that Richard Duke of York (second son to Edward the Fourth) was not
murdered in the Tower (as was given out) but saved alive; for that
those who were employed in that barbarous fact [deed], having
destroyed the elder brother, were stricken with remorse and compassion
towards the younger, and set him privily at liberty to seek his
fortune. This lure she cast abroad, thinking that this fame and belief
(together with the fresh example of Lambert Symnell) would draw at one
time or another some birds to strike upon it. she used likewise a
further diligence (not committing all to chance: for she had some
secret espials [agents], (like to the Turks commissioners of children
to tribute,) to look abroad for handsome and graceful youths, to make
Plantagenets and Dukes of York. At the last she did light on one, in
whom all things met, as one would wish, to serve her turn for a
counterfeit of Richard Duke of York.
[3.] This was Perkin
Warbeck, whose adventures we shall now describe. For first, the years
agreed well. Secondly, he was a youth of fine favour and shape; but
more than that, he had such a crafty and bewitching fashion, both to
move pity and to induce belief, as was like a kind of fascination and
inchantment to those that saw him or heard him. Thirdly, he had been
from his childhood such a wanderer, or (as the King called it) such a
land-loper, as it was extreme hard to hunt out his nest and parents;
neither again could any man, by company or conversing with him, be able
to say or detect well what he was; he did so flit from place to place.
Lastly, there was a circumstance (which is mentioned by one that writ
in the same time) that is very likely to have made somewhat of the
matter; which is, that King Edward the Fourth was his godfather. Which,
as it is somewhat suspicious for a wanton prince to become gossip in so
mean a house, and might make a man think that he might indeed have in
him some base blood of the house of York; so at the least (though that
were not) it might give the occasion to the boy, in being called King
Edward’s godson, or perhaps in sport King Edward’s son, to entertain
such thoughts into his head. For tutor he had none
(for ought that appears), as Lambert Symnell had, until he came unto
the Lady Margaret who instructed him.
4. Thus therefore it
came to pass. There was a townsman of Tournay that had borne office in
the town, whose name was John Osbeck (a converted Jew,) married to
Katheren de Faro, whose business drew him to live for a time with his
wife at London in King Henry the Fourth’s days; during which time he
had a son by her; and being known in court, the King either out of
religious nobleness, because he was a convert, or upon some private
acquaintance, did him the honour to be godfather to his child, and
named him Peter. But afterwards proving a dainty and effeminate youth,
he was commonly called by the diminutive of his name, Peterkin, or
Perkin. But as for the name of Warbeck it was given him when they did
but guess at it, before examinations had been taken. But yet he had
been so much talked on by that name, as it stuck by him, after his true
name of Osbeck was known. While he was a young child, his parents
returned with him to Tournay. Then was he placed in a house of a
kinsman of his, called John Stenbeck, at Antwerp, and so roamed up and
down between Antwerp and Tournay and other towns of Flanders for a good
time; living much in English company, and having the English tongue
perfect. In which time, being grown a comely youth, he as brought by
some of the espials of the Lady Margaret into her presence: who viewing
him well, and seeing that he had a face and personage that would bear a
noble fortune; and finding him otherwise of a fine spirit and winning
behaviour; thought she had now found a curious piece of marble to carve
out an image of a Duke of York. She kept him by her a great while, but
with extreme secrecy. The while she instructed him by many cabinet
conferences; First, in princely behaviour and gesture; teaching him how
he should keep state, and yet with a modest sense of his misfortunes:
Then she informed him off all the circumstances and particulars that
concerned the person of Richard Duke of York, which he was to act;
describing unto him the personages, lineamenets, and features of the
King and Queen his pretended parents, and of his brother and sisters,
and divers others that were nearest him in childhood, together with all
passages, some secret, some common, that were fit for a child’s memory,
until the death of King Edward. Then she added the particulars of the
time from the King’s death until he and his brother were commited to the
Tower, ad well during the time he was abroad as while he was in
sanctuary. As for the times while he was in the Tower, and the manner
of his brother’s death, and his own escape; she knew they were things
which very few could controul. And therefore she taught him only to
tell a smooth and likely tale of those matters; warning him not to vary
from it. It was agreed likewise between them what account he should
give of his peregrination abroad; intermixing many things which were
true and such as they knew others could testify, for the credit of the
rest; but still making them to hang together with the part he was to
play. She taught him likewise how to avoid sundry captious and tempting
questions, which were like to be asked of him. But in this she found
him of himself so nimble and shifting, as she trusted much to his own
wit and readiness; and therefore laboured the less in it. Lastly, she
raised his thoughts with some present rewards and further promises;
setting before him chiefly the glory and fortune of a crown, if things
went well; and a sure refuge in her court if the worst should fall.
After such times as she thought he was perfect in his lesson, she began
to cast with herself from what coast this blazing star should first
appear, and at what time. It must be upon the horizon of Ireland; for
there had the like meteor strong influence before.
The time of the apparition to be, when the King should be engaged in a
war with France. But well she knew that whatsoever should come from her
would be held suspected. And therefore if he should go out of Flanders
immediately into Ireland she might be thought to have some hand in it.
And beside, the time was not yet ripe; for that the two Kings were then
upon terms of peace. Therefore she wheeled about; and to put all
suspicion afar off, and loth to keep him any longer by her (for that
she knew secrets are not long-lived), she sent him unknown into
Portugal, with the Lady Brampton, an English lady (that embarked for
Portugal at that time), with some privade [private agent]
of her own to have an eye upon him; and there he was to remain and
to expect her further directions. In the mean time she omitted not to
prepare things for his better welcome and accepting, not only in the
kingdom of Ireland, but in the court of France. He continued in
Portugal about a year; and by that time the King of England called his
Parliament (as hath been said), and had declared open war against
France. Now did the signs reign, and the constellation was comen, under
which Perkin should appear. And therefore he was straight sent unto by
the Duchess to go for Ireland, at the town of Cork. When he was thither
comen, his own tale was (when he made his confession afterwards) that
the Irishmen finding him in some good clothes, came flocking about him,
and bore him down that he was the Duke of Clarence, that he was Richard Duke of York, second son
to Edward the Fourth: but that he for his part renounced all these
things, and offered to swear upon the holy Evangelists that he was no
such man, till at last they forced it upon him, and bad him fear
nothing; and so forth. But the truth is, that immediately upon his
coming into Ireland, he took upon him the said person of the Duke of
York, and drew unto him complices and partakers by all the means he
could devise. Insomuch as he had writ his letters more unto the Earle
of Desmond and Kildare, to come to his aid and be of his party; the
originate of which letters are yet extant.
5. Somewhat before this
time, the Duchess had also gained unto her a near servant of King
Henry’s own, one Strephen Frion, his secretary for the French tongue;
an active man, but turbulent and discontented. This Frion had fled over
to Charles the French King, and put himself into his service, at such
time as he began to be in open enmity with the King. Now King Charles,
when he understood of the person and attempts of Perkin, ready himself
to embrace all advantages against the King of England, instigated by
Frion, and formerly prepared by the Lady Margaret, forthwith despatched
one Lucas and this Frion in nature of ambasadors to Perkin, to
advertise him of the King’s good inclination to him, and that he was
resolved to aid him to recover his right against King Henry, an usuper
of England an an enemy of France; and wished him to come over unto him
at Paris. Perkin thought himself in heaven now that
he was invited by so great a King in so honourable a manner. And
imparting unto his friends in Ireland for their encouragement how
fortune called him, and what great hopes he had, sailed presently into
France. When he was comen to the court of France, the King received him
with great honour, saluted, and stiled him by the name of the Duke of
York, lodged him and accommodated him in great state; and the better to
give him the representation and the countenance of a Prince, assigned
him a guard for his person, whereof the Lord Congresall was captain.
And the courtiers likewise (thought it be ill mocking with the French)
applied themselves to their King’s bent, seeing there was reason of
state for it. At the same time there repaired unto Perkin divers
Englishmen of quality; Sir George Neville, Sir John Taylor, and about
one hundred more; and amongst the rest, this Stephen Frion of whom we
spake, who followed his fortune both then and for a long time after,
and was indeed his principal counsellor and instrument in all his
proceedings. But all this on the French King’s part was but a trick,
the better to bow King Henry to peace. And therefore upon the first
grain of incense that was sacrificed upon the altar of peace at
Bulloigne, Perkin was smoked away. Yet would not the French King
deliver him up to King Henry (as he was labored to do), for his
honour’s sake; but warned him away and dismissed him. And Perkin on his
part was as ready to be gone, doubting [fearing] he might be caught up
under-hand. He therefore took his way into Flanders unto the Duchess of
Burgundy; pretending that having been variously tossed by fortune he
directed his course thither as to a safe harbour; no ways taking
knowledge that he had ever been there before, but as if that had been
his first address. The Duchess on the other part made it as new and
strange to see him; and pretending at the first she was taught and made
wise by the example of Lambert Symnell, how she did admit of any
counterfeit stuff (though even in that she said she was not fully
satisfied), she pretended at the first (and that was ever in the
presence of others) to pose him and sift him, thereby to try whether he
were indeed the very Duke of York or no. But seeming to receive full
satisfaction by his answers, then she feigned herself to be transported
with a kind of astonishment, mixt of joy and wonder, of his miraculous
deliverance; receiving him as if he were risen from death to life; and
inferring that God, who had in such wonderful manner preserved him from
death, did likewise reserve him for some great and prosperous fortune.
As for his dimission out of France, they interpreted it, not as if he
were detected or neglected for a counterfeit deceiver; but contrariwise
that it did shew manifestly unto the world that he was some great
matter; for that it was his abandoning that (in effect) made the peace;
being no more but the sacrificing of a poor distressed Prince unto the
utility and ambition of two mighty monarchs. Neither was Perkin for his
part wanting to himself either in gracious and princely behaviour, or
in ready and apposite answers, or in contenting and caressing those
that did apply themselves unto him, or in pretty scorns or disdains to
those that seemed to doubt of him; but in all things did notably acquit
himself: insomuch as it was generally believed (as well amongst great
persons as amongst the vulgar) that he was indeed Duke Richard. Nay
himself with long and continual counterfeiting and with often telling a
lie, was turned (by habit) almost into the thing he seemed to be, and
from a liar to a believer. The Duchess therefore, as in a case out of
doubt did him all princely honour, calling him always by the name of
her nephew, and giving him the delicate title of the White Rose of
England; appointed him a guard of thirty persons, halbardiers, clad in
a party-coloured livery of murrey and blue, to attend his person. Her
court likewise, and generally the Dutch and strangers, in their usage
towards him expressed no less respect.
6. The news hereof came
blazing and thundering over into England that the
Duke of York was sure alive. As for the name of Perkin Warbeck, it was
not at that time comen to light, but all the news ran upon the Duke of
York; that he had been entertained in Ireland, bought and sold in
France, and was now plainly avowed and in great honour in Flanders.
These fames took hold of divers; in some upon discontent, in some upon
ambition, in some upon levity and desire of change, in some few upon
conscience and belief, but in most upon simplicity, and in divers out
of a dependence upon some of the better sort who did in secret favour
and nourish these bruits. And it was not long ere these rumours of
novelty had begotten others of scandal and murmur against the King and
his government, taxing him for a great taxer of the people, and
discountenancer of his nobility. The loss of Britainne and the peace
with France were not forgotten; but chiefly they fell upon the wrong
that he did his Queen, and that he did not reign in her right;
wherefore they said that God had now brought to light a masculine
branch of the House of York that would not be at his courtesy,
howsoever he did depress his poor lady. And yet (as it fareth in things
which are current with the multitude and which they affect) these fames
grew so general, as the authors were lost in the generality of
speakers; they being like running weeds that have no certain root, or
like footings up and down impossible to be traced. But after a while
these ill humours drew to an head, and settled secretly in some eminent
persons; which were Sir William Stanley, Lord Chamberlain of the King’s
household, the Lord Fitzwater, Sir Symond Mountford, Sir Thomas
Thwaits. These entered into a secret conspiracy to favour Duke
Richard’s title; nevertheless none engaged their fortunes in this
business openly but two, Sir Robert Clifford and master William Barley,
who sailed over into Flanders, sent indeed from the party of the
conspirators here to understand the truth of those things which passed
there, and not without some help of moneys from hence, provisionally to
be delivered — if they found and were satisfied that there was truth in
these pretenses. The person of Sir Robert Clifford (being a gentleman
of fame and family) was extremely welcome to the Lady Margaret, who
after she had conference with him brought him to the sight of Perkin,
with whom he had often speech and discourse. So that in the end, won
either by the Duchess to affect or by Perkin to believe, he wrote back
into England, that he knew the person of Richard Duke of York as well
as he knew his own, and that this young man was undoubtedly he. By this
means all things grew prepared to revolt and sedition here, and the
conspiracy came to have a correspondence between Flanders and England.
7. The King on his part
was not asleep. But to arm or levy forces yet, he thought he would but
show fear, and do this idol too much worship. Nevertheless the ports he
did shut up, or at least kept a watch on them, that none should pass to
or fro that was suspected. But for the rest he chose to work by
countermine. His purposes were two; the one to lay open the abuse; the
other to break the knot of the conspirators. To detect the abuse,
there were but two ways; the first to make it manifest to the world
that the Duke of York was indeed murdered; the other to prove that
(were he dead or alive) yet Perkin was a counterfeit. For the first,
thus it stood. There were but four persons that could speak upon
knowledge to the murder of the Duke of York; Sir James Tirrell (the
employed-man from King Richard), John Dighton and Myles Forrest his
servants (the two butchers or tormentors), and the priest of the Tower
that buried them; of which four, Myles Forrest and the priest were
dead, and there remained alive only Sir James Tirrell and John Dighton.
These two the King caused to be committed to the Tower and examined
touching the manner of the death of the two innocent
princes. They agreed both in a tale (as the King gave out) to this
effect: That King Richard having directed his warrant for the putting
of them to death to Brackenbury, the Lieutenant of the Tower, was by
him refused; whereupon the King directed his warrant to Sir James
Tirrell to receive the keys of the Tower from the lieutenant (for the
space of a night) for the King’s especial service. That Sir James
Tirrell accordingly repaired to the Tower by night, attended by his two
servants afore-named, whom he had chosen for the purpose. That himself
stood at the stair-foot, and sent these two villains to execute the
murder. That they smothered them in their bed; and, that done, called
up their master to see their naked bodies dead, which they had laid
forth. That they were buried under the stairs, and some stones cast
upon them. That when the report was made to King Richard that his will
was done, he gave Sir James Tirrell great thanks; but took exception to
the place of their burial, being too base for them that were King’s
children; whereupon another night by the King’s warrant renewed, their
bodies were removed by the priest of the Tower, and buried by him in
some place which (by means of the priest’s death soon after) could not
be known. Thus much was then delivered abroad, to be the effect of
those examinations; but the King nevertheless made no use of them in
any of his declarations. Whereby, as it seems, those examinations left
the business somewhat perplexed. And as for Sir James Tirrell, he was
long after beheaded in the Tower-yard for other matters of treason. But
John Dighton, who it seemeth spake best for the King, was forthwith set
at liberty, and was the principal means of divulging this tradition.
Therefore this kind of proof being left so naked, the King used the
more diligence of the latter, for the tracing of Perkin. To this
purpose he sent abroad into several parts, and especially into
Flanders, divers secret and nimble scouts and spies; some feigning
themselves to fly over unto Perkin, and to adhere unto him; and some
uner other pretences to learn, search, and discover all the
circumstances and particulars of Perkin’s parents, birth, person,
travels up and down, and doings; and, in brief, to have a journal (as
it were) of his life and doings; and furnished these his employed-men
liberally with money, to draw on and reward intelligences; given them
also in charge, to advertise continually what they found, and
nevertheless still to go on. And ever as one advertisement and
discovery called up another, he employed other new men, where the
business did require it. Others he employed in a more special nature
and trust, to be his pioneers in the main countermine. These were
directed to insinuate themselves into the familiarity and
confidence of the principal persons of the party in Flanders, and so to
learn what associates they had and correspondents either here in
England or abroad; and how far every one was engaged; and what new ones
they meant afterwards to try or board: and as this for the persons, so
for the actions themselves, to discover to the bottom (as they could)
the utmost of Perkin and the conspirators their intentions, hopes, and
practices. These latter best betrust spies had some of them further
instructions, to practice and draw off the best friends and servants of
Perkin, by making remonstrance to them how weakly his enterprise and
hopes were built, and with how prudent and potent a King they had to
deal; and to reconcile them to the King with promise of pardon and good
conditions of reward. And above the rest to assail, sap, and work into
the constancy of Sir Robert Clifford, and to win him (if they could),
being the man that knew most of their secrets, and who being won away
would most appall and discourage the rest, and in a manner break the
knot.
[8.] There is a strange
tradition, that the King lost in a wood of suspicions, and not knowing
whom to trust, had both intelligence with the confessors and chaplains
of divers great men; and for the better credit of his espials abroad
with the contrary side, did use to have them cursed at Paul’s (by name)
amongst the bead-roll of the Kings enemies, according to the custom of
those times. These spials plied their charge so roundly, as the King
had an anatomy of Perkin alive; and was likewise well informed of the
particular correspondent conspirators in England, and many other
mysteries were revealed; and Sir Robert Clifford in especial won to be
assured to the King, and industrious and officious for his service. The
King therefore (receiving a rich return of his diligence, and great
satisfaction touching a number of particulars,) first divulged and
spread abroad the imposture and juggling of Perkin’s person and
travels, with the circumstances thereof, throughout the realm; not by
proclamation (because things were yet in examination, and so might
receive the more or the less,) but by court-fames, which commonly print
better than printed proclamations. Then thought he it also time to send
an ambassage unto Archduke Philip into Flanders, for the abandoning and
dismissing of Perkin. Herein he employed Sir Edward Poynings, and Sir
William Warham doctor of the canon law. The Archduke was then young and
governed by his counsel. Before whom the ambassadors had audience. And
Dr. Warham spake in this manner:
9. “My lords, the King
our master is very sorry, that England and your country here of
Flanders having been counted as man and wife for so long time, now this
country of all others should be the stage where a base counterfeit
should play the part of a King of England, not only to his Grace’s
disquiet and dishonour, but to the scorn and reproach of all sovereign
Princes. To counterfeit the dead image of a King in his coin is an high
offence by all laws. But to counterfeit the living image of a King in
his person exceedeth all falsifications, except it should be that of a
Mahomet or an Antichrist, that counterfeit divine honour. The King hath
too great an opinion of this sage counsel, to think that any of you is
caught with this fable (though way may be given by you to the passion
of some), the thing in itself is so improbable. To set testimonies
aside of the death of Duke Richard, with the King hath upon record
plain and infallible, (because they may be thought to be in the King’s
own power,) let the thing testify for itself. Sense and reason no power
can command. Is it possible (trow [believe] you) that King Richard
should damn his soul and foul his name with so abominable a murder, and
yet not mend his case? Or do you think that men of blood (that were his
instruments) did turn to pity in the midst of their execution? whereas
in cruel and savage beasts, and men also, the first draught of blood
doth yet make them more fierce and enraged. Do you not know that the
bloody executioners of tyrants do go to such errands with an halter
about their neck, so that if they perform not they are sure to die for
it? And do you think that these men would hazard their own lives for
sparing another’s? Admit they should have saved him; what should they
have done with him? Turn him into London streets? that the watchman, or
any passenger that should light upon him, might carry him before a
justice, and so all come to light? Or should they have kept him
by them secretly? That surely would have required a great deal of care,
charge, and continual fears. But, my lords, I labour too much in a
clear business. The King is so wise, and hath so good friends aborad,
as now he knoweth Duke Perkin from his cradle. And because he is a
great Prince, if you have any good poet here, he can help him with
notes to write his life, and to parallel him with Lambert Symnell, now
the King’s falconer. And therefore, to speak plainly to your lordships,
it is the strangest thing in the world, that the Lady Margaret (excuse
us if we name her, whose malice to the King is both causeless and
endless,) should now when she is old, at the time when other women give
over child-bearing, bring forth two such monsters, being not
the births of nine or ten months, but of many years. And whereas other
natural mothers bring forth children weak, and not able to help
themselves; she bringeth forth tall stripplings, able soon after their
coming into the world to bid battle to mighty Kings. My lords, we stay
unwillingly upon this part: we would to God that lady would once taste
the joys which God Almighty doth serve up unto her, in beholding her
niece to reign in such honour, and with so much royal issue, which she
might be pleased to account as her own. The King’s request unto the
Archduke and your lordships might be, that according to the example of
King Charles, who hath already discarded him, you would banish this
unworthy fellow out of your dominions. But because the King may justly
expect more from an ancient confederate than from a new reconciled
enemy, he maketh it his request unto you to deliver him up into his
hands: pirates and impostors of this sort being fit to be accounted the
common enemies of mankind, and no ways to be protected by the law of
nations.”
10. After some short
time of deliberation, the ambassadors received this short answer: That
the Archduke, for the love of King Henry, would in no sort aid or
assist the pretended Duke, but in all things conserve the amity he had
with the King. But for the Duchess Dowager, she was absolute in the
lands of her dowry, and that he could not let [oppose] her to dispose
of her own.
11. The King, upon the
return of the ambassadors, was nothing satisfied with this answer; for
well he knew that a patrimonial dowry carried no part of sovereignty or
command of forces. Besides the ambassadors told him plainly, that they
saw the Duchess had a great party in the Archduke’s counsel; and that
howsoever it was carried in a course of connivance, yet the Archduke
underhand give aid and furtherance to Perkin. Wherefore (partly out of
courage and partly out of policy) the King forthwith banished all
Flemings (as well their persons as their wares) out of his kingdom;
commanding his subjects likewise (and by name his Merchants
Adventurers) which had a resiance [residence] in Antwerp, to return;
translating the mart (which commonly followed the English cloth) unto
Calais, and embarred also all further trade for the future. This the
King did, being sensible in point of honour not to suffer a pretender
to the crown of England to affront him so near at hand, and he to keep
terms of friendship with the country where he did set up. But he had
also a further reach; for that he knew well that the subjects of
Flanders drew so great commodity from the trade of England, as by this
embargo they would soon wax weary of Perkin; and that the tumults of
Flanders had been so late and fresh, as it was no time for the Prince
to displease the people. Nevertheless for form’s sake, by way of
requital, the Archduke did likewise banish the English out of Flanders;
which in effect was done to his hand.
12. The King being well
adverstised that Perkin did more trust upon friends and partakers
within the realm than upon foreign arms, thought it behoved him to
apply the remedy where disease lay, and to proceed with severity
against some of the principal conspirators here
within the realm; thereby to purge the ill humours in England, and to
cool the hopes in Flanders. Wherefore he caused to be apprehended,
almost at an instant, John Ratcliffe Lord Fitzwater, Sir Symon
Mountford, Sir Thomas Thwaites, William Dawbendy, Robert Ratcliffe,
Thomas Chressenor, and Thomas Astwood. All these were arraigned,
convicted, and condemned for high treason, in adhering and promising
aid to Perkin. Of these the Lord Fitzwater was conveyed to Calais, and
there kept in hold and in hope of life, until soon after (either
impatient or betrayed) he dealt with his keeper to have escaped, and
thereupon was beheaded. But Sir Symon Moundford, Robert Ratcliffe, and
William Dawbeny, were beheaded immediately after their condemnation.
The rest were pardoned, together with many others, clerks and laics,
amongst whom were two Dominican friars, and William Worseley Dean of
Paul’s; which latter sort passed examination, but came not to public
trial.
13. The Lord
Chamberlain at that time was not touched; whether it were that the King
would not stir too many humours at once, but, after the manner of good
physicians, purge the head last; or that Clifford (from whom most of
these discoveries came) reserved that piece for his own coming over;
signifying only to the King in the mean time that he doubted
[suspected] there were some greater ones in the business, whereof he
would give the King farther account when he came to his presence.
14. Upon
Allhallows-day-even, being now the tenth year of the King’s reign, the
King’s second son Henry was created Duke of York; and as well the Duke,
as divers others, noblemen, knights-bachelors, and gentlemen of
quality, were made Knights of the Bath according to the ceremony. Upon the morrow after Twelfth-day, the King removed from Westminster (where
he had kept his Christmas) to the Tower of London. This he did as soon
as he had advertisement that Sir Robert Clifford (in whose bosom or
budget most of Perkin’s secrets were laid up) was comen into England.
And the place of the Tower was chosen to that the end, that if Clifford
should accuse any of the great ones, they might without suspicion or
noise or sending abroad of warrants be presently attached; the court
and prison being within the cincture of one wall. After a day or two
the King drew unto him a selected counsel, and admitted Clifford to his
presence; who first fell down at his feet, and in all humble manner
craved the King’s pardon; which the King then granted, though he were
indeed secretly assured of his life before. Then, commanded to tell his
knowledge, he did amongst many others (of himself not interrogated)
impeach Sir William Stanley, the Lord Chamberlain of the King’s
household.
15. The King seemed to
be much amazed at the naming of this lord; as if he had heard the news
of some strange and fearful prodigy. To hear a man that had done him
service of so high a nature as to save his life and set the crown upon
his head; a man that enjoyed by his favour and advancement so great a
fortune both in honour and riches; a man that was tied unto him in so
near a band of allianace, his brother having married the King’s mother;
and lastly a man to whom he had committed the trust of his person, in
making him his chamberlain; that this man, no ways disgraced, no ways
discontent, no ways put in fear, should be false unto
him. Clifford was required to say over again and again the particulars
of his accusation; being warned, that in a matter so unlikely, and that
concerned so great a servant of the King’s, he should not in any wise
go too far. But the King finding that he did sadly and constantly
(without hesitation or varying, and with those civil protestations that
were fit,) stand to that that he had said, offering to justify it upon
his soul and life; he caused him to be removed. And after he had not a
little bemoaned himself unto his counsel there present, gave order that
Sir William Stanley should be restrained in his own chamber, where he
lay before, in the square tower. Upon his examination he denied little
of that wherewith he was charged, nor endeavoured much to excuse or
extenuate his fault. So that (not very wisely), thinking to make his
offence less by confession, he made it enough for condemnation. It was
conceived that he trusted much to his former merits and the interest
that his brother had in the King. But those helps were over-weighed by
divers things that made against him, and were predominant in the King’s
nature and mind. First, an over-merit; for convenient merit, unto which
reward may easily reach, doth best with Kings; Next, the sense of his
power; for the King thought that he that could set him up was the more
dangerous to pull him down; Thirdly, the glimmering of a confiscation;
for he was the richest subject for value in the kingdom; there being
found in his castle of Holte forty thousand marks in ready money and
plate, besides jewels, household-stuff, stocks upon his grounds, and
other personal estate exceeding great; and for his revenue in land and
fee, it was three thousand pounds a year of old rent, a great matter in
those times. Lastly, the nature of the time; for if the King had been
out of fear of his own estate, it was not unlike he would have spared
his life; but the cloud of so great a rebellion hanging over his head
made him work sure. Wherefore after some six seeks’ distance of time,
which the King did honourably interpose, both to give space to his
brother’s intercession, and to shew to the world that he had a conflict
with himself what he should do, he was arraigned of high-treason and
condemned, and presently after beheaded.
16. It is yet to this
day left but in dark memory, both what the case of this noble person
was, for which he suffered; and what likewise was the ground and cause
of his defection and alienation of his heart from the King. His case
was said to be this; that in discourse between Sir Robert Clifford and
him he had said, That if he were sure that the young man were King
Edward’s son, he would never bear arms against him. This case seems
somewhat a hard case, both in respect of the conditional, and in
respect of the other words. But for the conditional, it seemeth that
the judges of that time (who were learned men, and the three chief of
them of the privy counsel) thought it was a dangerous thing to admit
Ifs and Ands to qualify words of treason; whereby every man might
express his malice, and blanch his danger. And it was like to the case
(in the following times) of Elizabeth Barton, the holy maid of Kent,
who had said, That if King Henry the Eighth did not take Catherine his
wife again, he should be deprived of his crown, and die the death of a
dog. And infinite cases may be put of like nature; which it seemeth the
grave judges taking into consideration, would not admit of treasons
upon condition. And as for the positive words, That he would not bear
arms against King Edward’s son; though the words seem calm, yet; it was
a plain and direct over-ruling of the King’s title, either by the line
of Lancaster or by act of Parliament; which no doubt pierced the King
more than if Stanley had charged his lance upon him in the field. For
if Stanley would hold that opinion, That a son of King Edward had still
the better right, he being so a principal person of authority and
favour about the King, it was to teach all England to say as much. And
therefore, as those times were, that speech touched the quick. But some
writers do put this out of doubt; for they say that Stanley did
expressly promise to aid Perkin, and sent him some help of treasure.
17. Now for the motive
of his falling off from the King. It is true that at Bosworth field the
King was beset, and in manner inclosed round about by the troops of
King Richard, and in manifest danger of his life; when this Stanley was
sent by his brother with three thousand men to his rescue, which he
performed so, that King Richard was slain upon the place. So as the
condition of mortal men is not capable of a greater benefit than the
King received by the hands of Stanley; being like the benefit of
Christ, at once to save and crown. For which service the King gave him
great gifts, made him his counsellor and chamberlain; and (somewhat
contrary to his nature) had winked at the great spoils of
Bosworth-field, which came almost wholly to this man’s hands, to his
infinite enriching. Yet nevertheless, blown up with the conceit of his
merit, he did not think he had received good measure from the King, at
least not pressing-down and running over, as he expected. And his
ambition was so exorbitant and unbounded, as he became suitor to the
King for the Earldom of Chester; which ever being a kind of appanage to
the principality of Wales, and using to go to the King’s son, his suit
did not only end in a denial but in a distaste: the King perceiving
thereby that his desires were intemperate, and his cogitations vast and
irregular, and that his former benefits were but cheap and lightly
regarded by him. Wherefore the King began not to brook him well; and as
a little leaven of new distaste doth commonly sour the whole lump of
former merits, the king’s wit began now to suggest unto his passion,
that Stanley at Bosworth-field, though he came time enough to save his
life, yet he stayed long enough to endanger it. But yet having no
matter against him, he continued him in his places until this his fall.
18. After him was made
Lord Chamberlain Giles Lord Dawbeny, a man of great sufficiency and
valour, the more because he was gentle and moderate.
19. There was a common opinion, that Sir Robert
Clifford (who was now becomen the state-informer) was from the
beginning an emissary and spy of the King’s; and that he fled over into
Flanders with his consent and privity. But this is not probable; both
because he never recovered that degree of grace which he had with the
King before his going over; and chiefly for that the discovery which he
had made touching the Lord Chamberlain (which was his great service)
grew not from anything he learned abroad, for that he knew it well
before he went.
20. These executions,
and specially that of the Lord Chamberlain which was the chief strength
of the party, and by means of Sir Robert Clifford who was the most
inward man of trust amongst them, did extremely quail the design of
Perkin and his complices, as well through discouragement as distrust.
So that they were now like sand without lime; ill bound together;
especially as many as were English, who were at a gaze, looking strange
one upon another, not knowing who was faithful to their side; but
thinking that the King (what with his baits and what with his nets)
would draw them all unto him that were any thing worth. And indeed it
came to pass that divers came away by the thrid [= thread, i. e. the
conspiracy unraveled], sometimes one and sometimes another. Barley,
that was joint-commissioner with Clifford, did hold out one of the
longest, till Perkin was far worn; yet made his peace at length. But
the fall of this great man, being so high authority and favour (as was
thought) with the King, and the manner of carriage of the business, as
if there had been secret inquisition upon him for a great time before;
and the cause for which he suffered, which was little more than for
saying in effect that the title of York was better than the title of
Lancaster, which was the case almost of every man, at the least in
opinion; was matter of great terror amongst all the King’s servants and
subjects; insomuch as no man almost thought himself secure, and men
durst scarce commune or talk one with another, but there was a general
diffidence everywhere; which nevertheless made the King rather more
absolute than more safe. For bleeding inwards and shut vapours strangle
soonest and oppress most.
21. Hereupon presently came forth swarms and vollies of
libels (which are the gusts of liberty of speech restrained, and the
females of sedition,) containing bitter invectives and slanders against
the King and some of the counsel; for the contriving and dispersing
whereof (after great diligence of enquiry) five mean persons were
caught up and executed.
22. Meanwhile the King
did not neglect Ireland, being the soil where these mushrooms and
upstart weeds that spring up in a night did chiefly prosper. He sent
therefore from hence (for the better settling of his affairs there)
commissioners of both robes, the Prior of Lanthony to be his Chancellor
in that kingdom, and Sir Edward Poynings, with a power of men, and a
marshall commission, together with a civil power of his Lieutenant,
with a clause, That the Earl of Kildare, then Deputy, should obey him.
But the wild Irish, who were the principal offenders, fled into the
woods and bogs, after their manner; and those that knew themselves
guilty in the pale fled to them. So that Sir Edward Poynings was
enforced to make a wild chase upon the wild Irish; where (in respect of
the mountains and fastnesses) he did little good: which (either out of
a suspicious melancholy upon his bad success, or the better to save his
service from disgrace,) he would needs impute unto the comfort that the
rebels should receive underhand from the Earl of Kildare; every light
suspicion growing upon the Earl, in respect of the Kildare that was in
the action of Lambert Symnell, and slain at Stokefield. Wherefore he
caused the Earl to be apprehended, and sent into England; where upon
examination he cleared himself so well as he was replaced in his
government. But Poynings, the better to make compensation of the
meagreness of his service in the wars by acts of peace, called a
Parliament; where was made that memorable act which at this day is
called Poynings’ Law; whereby all the statutes of England were made to
be of force in Ireland. For before they were not; neither are any now
in force in Ireland, which were made in England since that time; which
was the tenth year of the King.
23. About this time
began to be discovered in the King that disposition, which afterwards
nourished and whet on by bad counsellors and ministers proved the blot
of his times; which was the course he took to crush treasure out of his
subjects’ purses, by forfeitures upon penal laws. At this men did
startle the more (at this time), because it appeared plainly to be in
the King’s nature, and not out of his necessity; he being now in float
for [abounding in] treasure: for that he had newly received the
peace-money from France, the benevolence-money from his subjects, and
great casualties [windfalls] upon the confiscations of the Lord
Chamberlain and diverse others. The first noted case of this kind was
that of Sir William Capel, Alderman of London; who upon sundry penal
laws was condemned in the sum of seven and twenty hundred pounds, and
compounded with the King for sixteen hundred: and yet after, Empson
would have cut another chop out of him, if the King had not died in the
instant.
24. The summer following, the King, to comfort his
mother, whom he did always tenderly love and revere, and to make demonstration to the world that the proceeding against Sir
William Stanley (which was imposed upon him by necessity of state) had
not in any degree diminished the affection he bore to Thomas his
brother, went in progress to Latham, to make merry with his mother and
the Earl, and lay there divers days.