promises, setting before him chiefly the glory and fortune of a crown
if things went well, and a sure refuge to her court if the worst should
fall. After such time 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 besides
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 loath 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 _privado_ 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 and declared open war against France.
Now did the sign reign, and the constellation was come, under which
Perkin should appear. And therefore he was straight sent unto by the
Duchess to go for Ireland, according to the first designment. In Ireland
he did arrive, at the town of Cork. When he was thither come, his own
tale was, when he made his confession afterward, that the Irishmen,
finding him in some good clothes, came flocking about him, and bare him
down that he was the Duke of Clarence that had been there before. And
after, that he was the base son of Richard III. And lastly, that he was
Richard, Duke of York, second son to Edward IV. 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 bade 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 wrote his letters unto the Earls
of Desmond and Kildare to come in to his aid, and be of his party; the
originals of which letters are yet extant.
Somewhat before this time, the Duchess had also gained unto her a near
servant of King Henry's own, one Stephen 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 of 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 the nature of
ambassadors 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, a usurper of England and 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 honorable 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 come to the court of
France, the King received him with great honor; saluted and styled 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 Lord Congresall
was captain. The courtiers likewise, though 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 among 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 Boulogne, Perkin was smoked
away. Yet would not the French King deliver him up to King Henry, as
he was labored to do, for his honor's sake, but warned him away and
dismissed him. And Perkin, on his part, was ready to be gone, doubting he
might be caught up underhand. 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 harbor,
noways 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 strange to see him, pretending, at the first, that she was taught
and made wise, by the example of Lambert Simnel, 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, she then feigned herself to be transported with a kind of
astonishment, mixed of joy and wonder, at 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
dismission out of France, they interpreted it, not as if he were detected
or neglected for a counterfeit deceiver, but, contrariwise, that it did
show 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
or princely behavior, or in ready or apposite answers, or in contenting
and caressing those that did apply themselves unto him, or in petty scorn
and disdain to those that seemed to doubt of him; but in all things did
notably acquit himself, insomuch as it was generally believed, as well
among great persons as among the vulgar, that he was indeed Duke Richard.
Nay, himself, with long and continued counterfeiting, and with oft
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 honor, calling him always by the name of
her nephew, and giving the delicate title of the "White Rose of England,"
and appointed him a guard of thirty persons, halberdiers, clad in a
party-colored livery of murrey and blue, to attend his person. Her court
likewise, and generally the Dutch and strangers, in their usage toward
him, expressed no less respect.
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 come 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 honor in Flanders. These fames
took hold of divers; in some upon discontent, in some upon ambition, in
some upon levity and desire of change, and in some few upon conscience
and belief, but in most upon simplicity, and in divers out of dependence
upon some of the better sort, who did in secret favor and nourish these
bruits. And it was not long ere these rumors of novelty had begotten
others of scandal and murmur against the King and his government, taxing
him for a great taxer of his people and discountenancer of his nobility.
The loss of Britain and the peace with France were not forgotten. But
chiefly they fell upon the wrong that he did his Queen, in 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 with 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 the 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-humors drew to a head, and settled
secretly in some eminent persons, which were Sir William Stanley, lord
chamberlain of the King's household, the Lord Fitzwater, Sir Simon
Montfort, and Sir Thomas Thwaites. These entered into a secret conspiracy
to favor 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
that 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 pretences. 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.
The King, on his part, was not asleep, but to arm or levy forces yet,
he thought, 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 counter-mines. 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 Tyrell, the
employed man from King Richard; John Dighton and Miles Forest, his
servants, the two butchers or tormentors; and the priest of the Tower,
that buried them. Of which four, Miles Forest and the priest were dead,
and there remained alive only Sir James Tyrell 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 Tyrell, to receive the key of
the Tower from the lieutenant, for the space of a night, for the King's
special service. That Sir James Tyrell accordingly repaired to the Tower
by night, attended by his two servants aforenamed, whom he had chosen for
that purpose. That himself stood at the stair-foot, and sent these two
villains to execute the murder. That they smothered them in their beds,
and, that done, called up their master to see their naked dead bodies,
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 Tyrell 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 Tyrell, he was soon
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 in 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 to him, and some, under other pretence, to
learn, search, and discover all the circumstances and particulars of
Perkin's parents, birth, person, travels up and down, and in brief to
have a journal, as it were, of his life and doings. Others he employed,
in a more special nature and trust, to be his pioneers in the main
counter-mine.
The King of Scotland--James IV--having espoused the cause of Warbeck, and
attended him upon an invasion of England, 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 Englishmen, and
diverse other advertisements, began to suspect him for a counterfeit.
Wherefore in a noble fashion he called him unto him, and recounted the
benefits and favors 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 he had refused an
honorable 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 that 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 honor of the King. Taking
his leave, he would not think on Flanders, doubting it was but hollow
ground 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.
When Perkin heard of the late Cornwall insurrection he began to take
heart again, and advised upon it with his council, which were principally
three--Herne, a mercer, that fled for debt; Skelton, a tailor; and
Astley, a scrivener; for Secretary Frion was gone. These told him that he
was mightily overseen, both 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 with the people of England,
that if they had loved him ever so well, yet they could 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 they 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 humoring them
with invectives against the King and his government. And as it fareth
with smoke, that never loseth itself till it be at the highest, he did
now before his end raise his style, entitling himself no more Richard,
Duke of York, but Richard IV, King of England. His council 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 of 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.
Perkin, hearing the 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 Cornish men 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
come 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 his
siege some did slip away.
When he was come 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 horses to Bewdley[3], in the New Forest,
where he and divers of his company registered themselves sanctuary-men,
leaving his Cornish men to the four winds, but yet thereby easing them
of their vow, and using his wonted compassion not to be by when his
subjects' blood should be spilt. The King, as soon as he heard of
Perkin's flight, sent presently five hundred horse to pursue and
apprehend him before he should 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.
Perkin, having at length given himself up, 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
show at liberty, but guarded with all care and watch that were 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 honor and respects, which he had so
long enjoyed, were plentifully repaid in scorn and contempt.
As soon as he was come 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 churme of a
thousand taunts and reproaches. But to amend the show, there followed a
little distance of Perkin an inward counsellor of his, one that had been
sergeant farrier to the King. This fellow, when Perkin took sanctuary,
chose rather to take a holy habit than a holy place, and clad himself
like a 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 it 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 labored tale of particulars of Perkin's father and mother and
grandsire and grandmother and uncles and cousins, by names and surnames,
and from what places he travelled up and down; so there was little or
nothing to purpose of anything 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.
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-coasts. 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 of Bethlehem, called the
priory of Sheen (which had the privilege of sanctuary), and put himself
into the hands of the prior of that monastery. The prior was thought a
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 take him forth and hang him. But the King, that had a 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 up in the Tower.
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 favor and kindness of his keepers,
servants of 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
feed 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.