FTER the
Cornishmen were defeated, there came from Calais to the King an
honourable ambassage from the French King; which had arrived at
Calais a month before, and was there stayed in respect of the
troubles; but honourably entertained and defrayed. [2.] The
King at their first coming sent unto them, and prayed them to have
patience, till a little smoke that was raised in his country, were
over; which would soon be: slighting (as his manner was) that openly,
which nevertheless he intended [regarded] seriously.
[3.] This ambassage concerned no great affair, but only the
prolongation of days for payment of money, and some other particulars
of the frontiers: and it was indeed but a wooing ambassage, with good
respects to entertain the King in good affection. But nothing was
done or handled to the derogation of the King’s late treaty with the
Italians.
4.
But during the time that the Cornishmen were in their march towards
London, the
King of Scotland, well advertised of all that
passed and knowing himself sure of a war from England whensoever
those stirs were appeased, neglected not his opportunity; but
thinking the King had his hands full, entered the frontiers of
England again with an army, and besieged the castle of Norham in
person with part of his forces, sending the rest to forage the
country. But Foxe Bishop of Duresme [Durham], a wise man, and
one that could see through the present to the future, doubting as
much before, had caused his castle of Norham to be strongly
fortified, and furnished with all kind of munition; and had manned it
likewise with a very great number of tall soldiers more than for the
proportion of the castle, reckoning rather upon a sharp assault than
a long siege. And for the country likewise, he had caused the people
to withdraw their cattle and goods into fast places, that were not of
easy approach; and sent in post to the Earl of Surrey (who was not
far off in Yorkshire) to come in diligence to the succour. So as the
Scottish King both failed of doing good upon the castle, and his men
had but a catching harvest of their spoils. And when he understood
that the Earl of Surrey was coming on with great forces, he returned
back into Scotland. The Earl finding the castle freed, and the enemy
returned, pursued with all celerity into Scotland; hoping to have
overtaken the Scottish King, and to have given him battle. But not
attaining him in time, sat down before the castle of Aton, one of the
strongest places (then esteemed) between Berwick and Edinburgh; which
in a small time he took. And soon after the Scottish King retiring
further into his country, and the weather being extraordinary foul
and stormy; the Earl returned into England. So that the expeditions
on both parts were (in effect) but a castle taken and a castle
distressed; not answerable to the puissance of the forces, nor to the
heat of the quarrel, nor to the greatness of the expectation.
5.
Amongst these troubles both civil and external, came into England from
Spain,
Peter Hialas, some call him Elias (surely he was the
forerunner of the good hap that we enjoy at this day: for his
ambassage set the truce between England and Scotland; the truce drew
on the peace; the peace the marriage; and the marriage the union of
the kingdoms); a man of great wisdom, and (as those times were) not
unlearned; sent from Ferdinando and Isabella, Kings of Spain, unto
the King, to treat a marriage between Katherine, their second
daughter, and Prince Arthur. This treaty was by him set in a very
good way; and almost brought to perfection. But it so fell out by the
way, that upon some conference which he had with the King touching
this business, the King (who had a great dexterity in getting
suddenly into the bosom of ambassadors of foreign Princes, if he
liked the man; insomuch as he would many times communicate with them
of his own affairs, yea and employ them in his service,) fell into
speech and discourse incidently, concerning the ending of the debates
and differences with Scotland. For the King naturally did not love
the barren wars with Scotland; though he made his profit of the noise
of them: and he wanted not in the counsel of Scotland those that
would advise their King to meet him at the half way, and to give over
the war with England; pretending to be good patriots, but indeed
favouring the affairs of the King. Only his heart was too great to
begin with Scotland for the motion of peace. On the other side, he
had met with an ally of Ferdinando of Arragon, as fit for his turn as
could be. For after that King Ferdinando had upon assured confidence
of the marriage to succeed taken upon him the person of a fraternal
ally to the King, he would not let [refuse], in a Spanish
gravity, to counsel the King on his own affairs. And the King on his
part not being wanting to himself, but making use of every man’s
humours, made his advantage of this in such things as he thought
either not decent or not pleasant to proceed from himself; putting
them off as done by the counsel of Ferdinando: wherefore he was
content that Hialas (as in a matter moved and advised from Hialas
himself) should to into Scotland, to treat of a concord between the
two Kings. Hialas took it upon him, and coming to the Scottish King,
after he had with much art brought King James to hearken to the more
safe and quiet counsels, writ unto the King that he hoped that peace
would with no great difficulty cement and close, if he would send
some wise and temperate counsellor of his own, that might treat of
the conditions. Whereupon the King directed Bishop Foxe (who at that
time was at his castle of Norham) to confer with Hialas, and they
both to treat with some commissioners deputed from the Scottish King.
The commissioners on both sides met. But after much dispute upon the
articles and conditions of peace propounded upon either part, they
could not conclude a peace. The chief impediment thereof was the
demand of the King to have Perkin delivered into his hands; as a
reproach to all Kings, and a person not protected by the law of
nations. The King of Scotland on the other side peremptorily denied
so to do; saying that he for his part was no competent judge of
Perkin’s title: but that he had received him as a suppliant,
protected him as a person fled for refuge, espoused him with his
kinswoman, and aided him with his arms upon the belief that he was a
Prince; and therefore that he could not now with his honour so unrip
[sic - read unripe?] and in a sort put a lie upon all
that he had said and done before, as to deliver him up to his
enemies. The Bishop likewise (who had certain proud instructions from
the King, at the least in the front, though there were a pliant
clause at the foot that remitted all to the Bishop’s discretion, and
required him by no means to break off in ill terms) after that he had
failed to obtain the delivery of Perkin, did move a second point of
his instructions; which was, that the Scottish King would give the
King an interview in person at Newcastle. But this being reported to
the Scottish King, his answer was, that he meant to treat a peace,
and no to go a begging for it. The Bishop also according to another
article of his instructions, demanded restitution of the spoils taken
by the Scottish, or damages for the same. But the Scottish
commissioners answered, that that was but as water spilt upon the
ground, which could not be gotten up again; and that the King’s
people were better able to bear the loss than their master to repair
it. But in the end as persons capable of reason on both sides, they
made rather a kind of recess for some months following. But the King
of Scotland, though he would not formally retract his judgment of
Perkin, wherein he had engaged himself so far; yet in his private
opinion, upon often speech with the Englishman and divers other
advertisements, began to suspect him for a counterfeit; wherefor in a
noble fashion he called him unto him, and recounted the benefits and
favours that he had done him in making him his ally, and in provoking
a mighty and opulent King by an offensive war in his quarrel, for the
space of two years together; nay more, that if he had refused an
honourable peace, whereof he had a fair offer if he would have
delivered him; and that to keep his promise with him, he had deeply
offended both his nobles and people, whom he might not hold in any
long discontent: and therefore required him to think of his own
fortunes, and to choose out some fitter place for his exile: telling
him withal that he could not say but the English had forsaken him
before the Scottish; for that upon two several trials, none had
declared themselves on his side: but nevertheless he would make good
what he said to him at his first receiving, which was that he should
not repent him for putting himself into his hands; for that he would
not cast him off, but help him with shipping and means to transport
him where he should desire.
Perkin,
not descending at all from his stage-like greatness, answered the
King in few words; That he saw his time was not yet come; but
whatsoever his fortunes were, he should both think and speak honour
of the King. Taking his leave, he would not think on Flanders,
doubting it was but hollow grouind for him since the treaty of the
Archduke concluded the year before; but took his
lady, and
such followers as would not leave him, and sailed over into
Ireland.
6.
This twelfth year of the King a little before this time, Pope
Alexander, who
loved best those Princes that were furthest off and
with whom he had least to do; and taking very thankfully the King’s
late entrance into league for the defence of Italy; did remunerate
him with an hallowed sword and cap of maintenance, sent by his
Nuncio. Pope Innocent had done the like, but it was not received in
that glory. For the King appointed the Mayor and his brethren to meet
the Pope’s orator at London-bridge, and all the streets between the
bridge-foot and the palace of Paul’s (where the King then lay) were
garnished with the citizens, standing in their liveries. And the
morrow after being Allhallown-day, the King, attended with many of
his prelates and nobles and principal courtiers, went in procession
to Paul’s, and the cap and sword were borne before him; and after the
procession, the King himself remaining seated in the quire, the Lord
Archbishop upon the greese [stair] of the quire made a long
oration; setting forth the greatness and eminency of that honour
which the Pope (in these ornaments and ensigns of benediction) had
done the King; and how rarely and upon what high deserts they used to
be bestowed; and then recited the King’s principal acts and merits,
which had made him appear worthy in the eyes of his Hoiliness of this
great honour.
7. All this while the rebellion of Cornwall (whereof we have spoken)
seemed to have no relation to Perkin; save that perhaps Perkin’s
proclamation had stricken upon the right vein, in promising to lay
down exactions and payments; and so had made them now and then have a
kind of thought on Perkin. But now these bubbles by much stirring
began to meet, as they use to do upon the top of water. The King’s
lenity (by that time the Cornish rebels, who were taken and pardoned,
and as it was said many of them sold by them that had taken them for
twelve pence and two shillings apiece, were come down into their
country) had rather emboldened them than reclaimed them; insomuch as
they stuck not to say to their neighbours and countrymen that the
King did well to pardon them; for that he knew he should leave few
subjects in England, if he hanged all that were of their mind: and
began whetting and inciting one another to renew the commotion. Some
of the subtlest of them, hearing of Perkin’s being in Ireland, found
means to send to him to let him know that if he would come over to
them they would serve him.
[8.] When Perkin heard
this news, he began to take heart
again, and advised upon it with his counsel; which were principally
three; Herne a mercer that had fled for debt; Skelton a taylor, and
Astley a scrivener; (for secretary Frion was gone.) These told him
that he was mightily overseen [misled] when he went into Kent
and when he went into Scotland; the one being a place so near London,
and under the King’s nose; and the other a nation so distasted
[unpopular] with the people of England, that if they had
loved him never so well, yet they would never have taken his part in
that company. But if he had been so happy as to have been in Cornwall
at the first, when the people began to take arms there, he had been
crowned at Westminster before this time: for these Kings (as he had
now experience) would sell poor princes for shoes: but he must rely
wholly upon people; and therefore advised him to sail over with all
possible speed into Cornwall: which accordingly he did; having in his
company four small barks, with some sixscore or sevenscore
fighting-men. He arrived in September at Whitsand-Bay, and forthwith
came to Bodmin, the blacksmith’s town; where there assembled unto him
to the number of three thousand men of the rude people.
There
he set forth a new proclamation, stroking the people with fair
promises, and humouring them with invectives against the
King
and his government. And as it fareth with smoke that never leeseth
[loses] itself
till it be at the highest, he did not before his end raise his stile,
intitling
himself no more Richard Duke of
York, but Richard the Fourth, King of England. His counsel advised
him by all means to make himself master of some good walled town; as
well to make his men find the sweetness of rich spoils, and to allure
to him all loose and lost people by like hopes of booty; as to be a
sure retreat to his forces, in case they should have any ill day or
unlucky chance in the field. Wherefore they took heart to them, and
went on and besieged the city of Exeter, the principal town for
strength and wealth in those parts.
[9.] When
they were comen before Exeter, they forbore to use any force at the
first, but
made continual shouts and outcries to
terrify the inhabitants, and did likewise in divers places call and
talk to them from under the walls, to join with them, and be of their
party; telling them that the King would make them another London, if
they would be the first town that should acknowledge him; but they
had not the wit to send to them, in any orderly fashion, agents or
chosen men to tempt them and to treat with them. The citizens on
their part shewed themselves stout and loyal subjects; neither was
there so much as any tumult or division amongst them, but all
prepared themselves for a valiant defence, and making good the town.
For well they saw that the rebels were of no such number of power
that they needed to fear them as yet: and well they hoped that before
their numbers increased the King’s succours would come in. And
howsoever, they thought it the extremest of evils to put themselves
at the mercy of those hungry and disorderly people. Wherefore setting
all things in good order within the town, they nevertheless let down
with cords from several parts of the walls privily, several
messengers (that if one came to mischance another might pass on),
which should adverstise the King of the state of the town, and
implore his aid. Perkin also doubted that succours would come ere
long, and therefore resolved to use his utmost force to assault the
town. And for that purpose having mounted scaling-ladders in divers
places upon the walls, made at the same instant an attempt to force
one of the gates. But having no artillery or engines, and finding
that he could do no good by ramming with logs of timber, nor by the
use of iron bars and iron crows and such other means at hand, he had
no way left him but to set one of the gates on fire; which he did.
But the citizens well perceiving the danger, before the gate could be
fully consumed, blocked up the gate and some space about it on the
inside with faggots and other fuel, which they likewise set on fire,
and so repulsed fire with fire; and in the mean time raised up
rampiers [ramparts] of earth, and cast up deep trenches, to
serve instead of wall and gate. And for the esclades
[ladders], they had so bad success, as the rebels were driven
from the walls with the loss of two hundred men.
10. The King when he heard of Perkin’s siege of Exeter, made sport
with it; and said to them that were about him, that the King of
rake-hells was landed in the west, and that he hoped now to have the
honour to see him, which he could never yet do. And it appeared
plainly to those that were about the King, that he was indeed much
joyed with the news of Perkin’s being in English ground, where he
could have no retreat by land; thinking now, that he should be cured
of those privy stitches, which he had had long about his heart, and
had sometimes broken his sleeps in the midst of all his felicity. And
to set all men’s hearts on fire, he did now by all possible means let
it appear, that those that should now do him service to make an end
of these troubles, should be no less accepted of him than he that
came upon the eleventh hour and had the whole wages of the day.
Therefore now, like the end of a play, a great number came upon the
stage at once. He sent the Lord Chamberlain, and the Lord Brooke, and
Sir Rice ap Thomas, with expedite forces to speed to Exeter to the
rescue of the town, and to spread the fame of his own following in
person with a royal army. The Earl of Devonshire and his son, with
the Carews and the Fulfordes and other principal persons of
Devonshire (uncalled from the court, but hearing that the King’s
heart was much bent upon this service), made haste with troops that
they had raise to be the first that should succour the city of
Exeter, and prevent the King’s succours. The Duke of Buckingham
likewise with many brave gentlemen put themselves in arms, not
staying either the King’s or Lord Chamberlain’s coming on, but making
a body of forces of themselves, the more to endear their merit;
signifying to the King their readiness, and desiring to know his
pleasure. So that according to the proverb, In the coming down every
Saint did help.
11. Perkin hearing this thunder of arms and preparations against him
from so many parts, raised his siege and marched to Taunton,
beginning already to squint one eye upon the crown and another upon
the sanctuary; though the Cornishmen were become like metal often
fired and quenched, churlish, and that would sooner break than bow;
swearing and vowing not to leave him till the uttermost drop of their
blood were spilt. He was at his rising from Exeter between six and
seven thousand strong, many having comen unto him after he was set
before Exeter, upon fame of so great an enterprise, and to partake of
the spoil; though upon the raising of the siege some did slip away.
When he was comen near Taunton, he dissembled all fear; and seemed
all the day to use diligence in preparing all things ready to fight.
But about midnight he fled with threescore horse to Bewley in the New
Forest; where he and divers of his company registered themselves
sanctuary-men, leaving his Cornishmen to the four winds; but thereby
easing them of their vow; and using his wonted compassion, not to be
by when his subjects blood should be spilt.
[12.] The
King as soon as heard of Perkin’s flight, sent presently five hundred
horse to
pursue and apprehend him, before he
could get either to the sea or to that same little island called a
sanctuary. But they came too late for the latter of these. Therefore
all they could do was to beset the sanctuary, and to maintain a
strong watch about it, till the King’s pleasure were further known.
As for the rest of the rebels, they (being destituted of their head)
without stroke stricken submitted themselves unto the King’s mercy.
And the King who commonly drew blood (as physicians do) rather to
save life than to spill it, and was never cruel when he was secure,
now he saw the danger was past, pardoned them all in the end; except
some few desperate persons, which he reserved to be executed, the
better to set off his mercy towards the rest. There were also sent
with all speed some horse to Saint Michael’s Mount in Cornwall, where
the Lady Katherine Gordon was left by her husband, whom in all
fortunes she entirely loved; adding the virtues of a wife to the
virtues of her sex. The King sent in the greater diligence, not
knowing whether she might be with child, whereby the business would
not have ended in Perkin’s person. When she was brought to the King,
it was commonly said that the King received her not only with
compassion but with affection; pity giving more impression to her
excellent beauty. Wherefore comforting her, to serve as well his eye
as his fame, he sent her to his Queen, to remain with her; giving her
very honourable allowance for the support of her estate, which she
enjoyed both during the King’s life and many years after. The name of
the White Rose, which had been given to her husband’s false title,
was continued in common speech to her true beauty.
13.
The King went forwards on his journey, and made a joyful entrance into
Exeter,
where he gave the citizens great commendations and
thanks; and taking the sword he wore from his side, he gave it to the
Mayor, and commanded it should be ever after carried before him.
There also he caused to be executed some of the ringleaders of the
Cornishmen, in sacrifice to the citizens; whom they had put in fear
and trouble. At Exeter the King consulted with his counsel, whether
he should offer life to Perkin if he would quit the sanctuary and
voluntarily submit himself. The counsel were divided in opinion. Some
advised the King to take him out of sanctuary perforce, and to put
him to death, as in a case of necessity, which in itself dispenseth
with consecrated places and things; wherein they doubted not also but
the King should find the Pope tractable to ratify his deed, either by
declaration or at least by indulgence. Others were of opinion, since
all was now safe and no further hurt could be done, that it was not
worth the exposing of the King to new scandal and envy. A third sort
fell upon the opinion, that it was not possible for the King ever
either to satisfy the world well touching the imposture or to learn
out the bottom of the conspiracy, except by promise of life and
pardon and other fair means he should get Perkin into his hands. But
they did all in their preambles much bemoan the King’s case, with a
kind of indignation at his for the; that a Prince of his high wisdom
and virtue should have been so long and so oft exercised and vexed
with idols. But the King said that it was the vexation of God
Almighty himself to be vexed with idols, and therefore that that was
not to trouble any of his friends: and that for himself he always
despised them, but was grieved that they had put his people to such
trouble and misery. But in conclusion he leaned to the third opinion;
and so sent some to deal with Perkin; who seeing himself a prisoner
and destitute of all hopes, having tried princes and people, great
and small, and found all either false, faint, or unfortunate, did
gladly accept of the condition.
[14.] The King did also
while he was at Exeter appoint the
Lord Darcy and other commissioners for the fining of all such as were
of any value, and had any hand or partaking in the aid or comfort of
Perkin and of the Cornishmen, either in the field or in the fight.
These commissioners proceeded with such strictness and severity, as
did much obscure the King’s mercy in sparing of blood, with the
bleeding of so much treasure. Perkin was brought into the King’s
court, but not to the King’s presence; though the King to satisfy his
curiosity saw him sometimes out of a window or in passage. He was in
shew at liberty, but guarded with all care and watch that was
possible, and willed to follow the King to London. But from his first
appearance upon the stage in his new person of a sycophant or
juggler, instead of his former person of a Prince, all men may think
how he was exposed to the derision not only of the courtiers but also
of the common people, who flocked about him as he went along, that
one might know afar off where the owl was, by the flight of birds;
some mocking, some wondering, some cursing, some prying and picking
matter out of his countenance and gesture to talk of. So that the
false honour and respects which he had so long enjoyed was
plentifully repaid in scorn and contempt. As soon as he was comen to
London, the King gave also the City the solace of this may-game. For
he was conveyed leisurely on horseback, but not in any ignominious
fashion, through Cheapside and Cornhill to the Tower, and from thence
back again unto Westminster, with the churmne [loud noise] of
a thousand taunts and reproaches. But to amend the show, there
followed a little distance off Perkin, an inward counsellor of his,
one that had been serjeant farrier to the King. This fellow, when
Perkin took sanctuary, chose rather to take an holy habit than a holy
place, and clad himself like an hermit, and in that weed wandered about the country, till he was discovered and taken. But this man was
bound hand and foot upon the horse, and came not back with Perkin,
but was left at the Tower, and within few days after executed. Soon
after, now that Perkin could tell better what himself was, he was
diligently examined; and after his confession taken, an extract was
made of such parts of them as were thought fit to be divulged; which
was printed and dispersed abroad: wherein the King did himself no
right: for as there was a laboured tale of particulars of Perkin’s
father and mother and grandsire and grandmother and uncles and
cousins, by names and surnames, from what places he travelled up and
down; so there was little or nothing to purposes of any thing
concerning his designs, or any practices that had been held with him;
nor the Duchess of Burgundy herself, that all the world did take
knowledge of as the person that had put life and being into the whole
business, so much as named or pointed at; so that men missing of that
they looked for, looked about for they knew not what,
and were
in more doubt than before. But the King chose rather not to satisfy
than to kindle coals. At that time also it did not appear by any new
examinations or commitments that any other person of quality was
discovered or appeached, though the King’s closeness made that a
doubt dormant.
15. About this time a great fire in the night-time suddenly began at
the King’s palace of Shyne, near unto the King’s own lodgings;
whereby a great part of the building was consumed, with much costly
household-stuff; which gave the King occasion of building from the
ground that fine pile of Richmond, which is now standing.
16.
Somewhat before this time also, there fell out a memorable accident.
There was
one Sebastian Gabato, a Venetian, dwelling in
Bristow, a man seen and expert in cosmography and navigation. This
man seeing the success and emulating perhaps the enterprise of
Christopherus Columbus in that fortunate discovery towards the
south-west, which had been by him made some six years before,
conceited with himself that lands might likewise be discovered
towards the north-west. And surely it may be held more firm and
pregnant conjectures of it than Columbus had of his at the first. For
the two great islands of the old and new world, being in the shape
and making of them broad towards the north and pointed towards the
south, it is likely that the discovery first began where the lands
did nearest meet. And there had been before that time a discovery of
some lands, which they took to be islands, and were indeed the
continent of America, towards the north-west. And it may be, that
some relation of this nature coming afterwards to the knowledge of
Columbus, and by him suppressed (desirous rather to make his
enterprise the child of his science and fortune than the follower of
a former discovery), did give him better assurance that all was not
sea from the west of Europe and Africke unto Asia, than either
Seneca’s prophecy, or Plato’s antiquities, or the nature of the tides
and land-winds and the like, which were the conjectures that were
given out whereupon he should have relied: though I am not ignorant
that it was likewise laid unto the casual [accidental] and
wind-beaten discovery a little before of a Spanish pilot who died in
the house of Columbus. But this Gabato bearing the King in hand
[promising the King] that he would find out an island endued
with rich commodities, procured him to man and victual a ship at
Bristow for the discovery of that island: with whom ventured also
three small ships of London merchants, fraught with some gross and
slight wares, fit for commerce with barbarous people. He sailed, as
he affirmed this return (and made a card [chart] thereof),
very far westwards, with a quarter of the north, on the north side of
Terra de Labrador, until he came to the latitude of sixty-seven
degrees and a half, finding the seas still open. It is certain also
that the King’s fortune had a tender of that great empire of the
West-Indies. Neither was it a refusal on the King’s part, but a delay
by accident, that put by so great an acquest [acquisition].
For Christopherus Columbus, refused by the King of Portugal (who
would not embrace at once both east and west) employed his brother
Bartholomeus Columbus unto King Henry to negotiate
for his
discovery. And it so fortuned that he was taken by pirates at sea; by
which accidental impediment he was long ere came to the King; so
long, that before he had obtained a capitulation [an
agreement] with the King for his brother, the enterprise by him
was achieved, and so the West-Indies by providence were then reserved
for the crown of Castilia. Yet this sharpened the King so, that not
only in this voyage, but again in the sixteenth year of his reign,
and likewise in the eighteenth thereof, he granted forth new
commissions for the discovery and investing of unknown lands.
17.
In this fourteenth year also, by God’s wonderful providence, that
boweth things
unto his will, and hangeth great weights upon small
wires, there fell out a trifling and untoward accident, that drew on
great and happy effects. During the truce with Scotland, there were
certain Scottish young gentlemen that came into Norham town, and
there made merry with some of the English of the town; and having
little to do, went sometimes forth, and would stand looking upon the
castle. Some of the garrison of the castle, observing this their
doing twice or thrice, and having not their minds purged of the late
ill blood of hostility, either suspected them or quarreled [accused]
them
for spies. Whereupon they fell at ill words, and from words to blows,
so that
many were wounded on either side;
and the Scottishmen, being strangers in the town, had the worst;
insomuch that some of them were slain, and the rest made haste home.
The matter being complained on, and often debated before the Wardens
of Marches of both sides, and no good order taken, the King of
Scotland took it to himself, and being much kindled, sent a herald to
the King to make protestation that if reparation were not done,
according to the conditions of the truce, his King did denounce war.
The King, who had often tried fortune and was inclined to peace, made
answer that what had been done was utterly against his will and
without his privity; but if the garrison soldiers had been in fault,
he would see them punished; and the truce in all points to be
preserved. But this answer seemed to the Scottish King but a delay,
to make the complaint breathe out with time; and therefore it did
rather exasperate him than satisfy him. Bishop Foxe, understanding
from the King that the Scottish King was still discontent and
impatient, being troubled that the occasion of breaking the truce
should grow from his men, sent many humble and deprecatory letters to
the Scottish King to appease him. Whereupon King James, mollified by
the Bishop’s submiss and eloquent letters, writ back unto him, that
though he were in part moved by his letters, yet he should not be
fully satisfied except he spake with him; as well about the
compounding of the present differences, as about other matters that
might concern the good of both kingdoms. The Bishop,
advising
first with the King, took his journey for Scotland. The meeting was
at Melrosse, an abbey of the Cistercians, where the King then abode.
The King first roundly uttered unto the Bishop his offence conceived
for the insolent breach of truce by his men of Norham-castle;
whereunto Bishop Foxe made such an humble and smooth answer, as it
was like oil into the wound, whereby it began to heal. And this was
done in the presence of the King and his counsel. After the King
spake with the bishop apart, and opened himself unto him, saying that
these temporary truces and peaces were soon made and soon broken; but
that he desired a straiter amity with the King of England;
discovering his mind, that if the King would give him in marriage the
Lady Margaret, his eldest daughter, that indeed might be a knot
indissoluble; that he knew well what place and authority the Bishop
deservedly had with his master: therefore if he would take the
business to heart and deal in it effectually, he doubted not but it
would succeed well. The Bishop answered soberly, that he thought
himself rather happy rather than worthy to be an instrument in such a
matter, but would do his beast endeavour. Wherefore the Bishop
returning to the King and giving him account of what had passed and
finding the King more than well disposed in it, gave the King advice,
first to proceed on a conclusion of peace, and then to go on with the
treaty of marriage by degrees. Hereupon a peace was concluded, which
was published a little before Christmas, in the fourteenth year of
the King’s reign, to continue for both the Kings’ lives and the
over-liver of them and a year after. In this peace there was an
article contained, that no Englishman should enter into Scotland, and
no Scottishman into England, without letters commendatory from the
Kings of either nation. This at first sight might seem a means to
continue a strangeness between the nations, but it was done to lock
in the borderers.
18. This year there was also born to the King a third son, who was
christened by the name of Edmond, and shortly after died. And much
about the same time came news of the death of Charles the French
King; for whom there were celebrated solemn and princely
obsequies.
19. It was not long but Perkin, who was made of quicksilver (which is
hard to hold or imprison), began to stir. For deceiving his keepers
he took him to his heels, and made speed to the sea-coast. But
presently all corners were laid for him, and such diligent pursuit
and search made, as he was fain to turn back and get him to the house
at Bethleem, called the Priory of Shyne (which had the privilege of
sanctuary), and put himself into the hands of the Prior of that
monastery. The Prior was thought an holy man, and much reverenced in
those days. He came to the King and besought the King for Perkin’s
life only, leaving him otherwise to the King’s discretion. Many about
the King were again more hot than ever to have the King to take him
forth and hang him. But the King that had an high stomach and could
not hate any that he despised, bid take him forth and set the knave
in the stocks. And so promising the Prior his life, he caused him to
be brought forth. And within two or three days after, upon a scaffold
set up in the palace-court at Westminster, he was fettered and set in
the stocks for the whole day. And the next day after, the like was
done by him at the cross in Cheapside, and in both places he read his
confession of which we made mention before; and was from Cheapside
conveyed and laid upon in the Tower. Notwithstanding all this the
King as (as was partly touched before) grown to be such a partner
with fortune, as nobody could tell what actions the one and what the
other owned. For it was believed generally that Perkin was betrayed;
and that this escape was not without the King’s privity, who had him
all the time of his flight in a line; and that the King did this to
pick a quarrel to him, to put him to death, and to be rid of him at
once; which is not probable; for that the same instruments who
observed him in his flight might have kept him from getting into
sanctuary.
20.
But it was ordained that this winding-ivy of a Plantagenet should kill
the true
tree itself. For Perkin after he had been a while in
the Tower, began to insinuate himself into the favour and kindness of
his keepers; servants to the Lieutenant of the Tower Sir John Digby;
being four in number; Strangeways, Blewet, Astwood, and Long-Roger.
These varlets with mountains of promises he sought to corrupt, to
obtain his escape. But knowing well that his own fortunes were made
so contemptible as he could feel no man’s hopes; and by hopes he must
work, for rewards he had none; he had contrived with himself a vast
and tragical plot; which was, to draw into his company Edward
Plantagenet Earl of Warwick, then prisoner in the Tower, whom the
weary life of a long imprisonment, and the often and renewing fears
of being put to death, had softened to take any impression of counsel
for his liberty. This young Prince he thought these servants would
look upon, though not upon himself. And therefore after that by some
message by one or two of them he had tasted of the Earl’s consent, it
was agreed that these four should murder their master the Lieutenant
secretly in the night, and make their best of such money and portable
goods of his as they should find ready at hand; and get the keys of
the Tower, and presently to let forth Perkin and the Earl. But this
conspiracy was revealed in time before it could be executed. And in
this again the opinion of the King’s great wisdom did surcharge him
with a sinister fame, that Perkin was but his bait to entrap the Earl
of Warwick. And in the very instant while this conspiracy was in
working (as if that also had been the King’s industry) it was fatal
that there should break forth a counterfeit Earl of Warwick, a
cordwainer’s son, whose name was Ralph Wilford, a young man taught
and set on by an Augustin Friar called Patrick. They both from the
parts of Suffolk came forwards into Kent, where they did not only
privily and underhand give out that this Wilford was the true Earl of
Warwick; but also the friar, finding some light credence in the
people, took the boldness in the pulpit to declare as much, and to
incite the people to come in to his aid. Whereupon they were both
presently apprehended, and the young fellow executed, and the friar
condemned to perpetual imprisonment. This also happening so
opportunely to represent the danger to the King’s estate from the
Earl of Warwick, and thereby to colour the King’s severity that
followed; together with the madness of the friar, so vainly and
desperately to divulge a treason before it had gotten any manner of
strength; and the saving of the friar’s life, which nevertheless was
indeed but the privilege of his order; and the pity in the common
people (which if it run in a strong stream doth ever cast up scandal
and envy), made it generally rather talked than believed that all was
but the King’s device. But howsoever it were, hereupon Perkin (that
had offended against grace now the third time) was at the last
proceeded with, and by commissioners of Oyer and Determiner arraigned
at Westminster, upon divers treasons committed and perpetrated after
his coming on land within this kingdom (for so the judges advised,
for that he was a foreigner), and condemned; and a few days after
executed at Tyburn; where he did again openly read his confession,
and take it upon his death to be true. This was the end of the little
cockatrice of a King, that was able to destroy those that did not
espy him first. It was one of longest plays of that kind that hath
been in memory, and might perhaps have had another end, if he had not
met with a King both wise, stout, and fortunate.
21. As for Perkin’s three counsellors, they had registered themselves
sanctuary-men, when their master did and whether upon pardon obtained
or continuance within this privilege, they came not to be proceeded
with.
There
was executed with Perkin the Mayor of Cork and his son, who had been
principal abettors of his treasons. And soon after were likewise
condemned eight other persons about the Tower-conspiracy; whereof
four were the Lieutenant’s men. But of those eight but two were
executed. And immediately after was arraigned before the Earl of
Oxford (then for the time High Steward of England) the poor Prince
the Earl of Warwick; not for the attempt to escape
simply, for
that was not acted; and besides the imprisonment not being for
treason, the escape by law could not be treason; but for conspiring
with Perkin to raise sedition, and to destroy the King. And the Earl
confessing the indictment had judgment, [and] was shortly
after beheaded on Tower-hill.
22.
This was also the end not only of this noble and commiserable person
Edward the
Earl of Warwick, eldest son to the Duke of
Clarence, but likewise to the line-male of the Plantagenets, which
had flourished in great royalty and renown from the time of the
famous King of England, King Henry the Second. Howbeit it was a race
often dipped in their own blood. It hath remained since, only
transplanted into other names, as well of the imperial line as of
other noble houses. But it was neither guilt of crime, nor reason of
state, that could quench the envy that was upon the King for this
execution. So that he thought good to export it out of the land, and
to lay it upon his new ally Ferdinando King of Spain. For these two
Kings understanding one another at half a word, so it was that there
were letters shewed out of Spain, whereby in the passages concerning
the treaty of the marriage, Ferdinando had written to the King in
plain terms that he saw no assurance of his succession as long as the
Earl of Warwick lived; and that he was loth to send his daughter to
troubles and dangers. But thereby as the King did in some part remove
the envy from himself, so he did not observe that he did withal bring
a kind of malediction and infausting [jinx] upon the
marriage, as an ill prognostic; which in event so far proved true, as
both Prince Arthur enjoyed a very small time after the marriage; and
the Lady Katherine herself (a sad and a religious woman) long after,
when King Henry the Eighth his resolution of a divorce from her was
first made known to her, used some words, that she had not offended,
but it was a judgment of God, for that her former marriage was made
in blood; meaning that of the Earl of Warwick.
Go
to Chapter IX