probity, the wise and provident circumspection, and the
illustriousness of manners and birth of our beloved and trusty William
le Scrope, Chevalier, and willing deservedly to exalt him by the
prerogative of honour, do create him in Parliament to be Earl of
Wiltes; and do invest him with the style, name, and honour of the
place aforesaid, by the girding of the sword, to have to him and his
heirs-male for ever. And in order that the Earl and his heirs
aforesaid, for the decency of so great a name and honour, may be the
better and the more honourably able to support the burdens incumbent
on the same, of our special grace we have given and granted, and by
this charter confirm, to the Earl and his heirs aforesaid, £20 to be
received every year out of the issues of the county of Wilton, by the
hands of the sheriff of the county for ever." The patent was made out
in this way, with remainder to his heirs-male, because, although
married, he had no issue by whom it might descend lineally, and it
would thus pass downward in the family through his collateral heirs,
his brothers or their children. In 1859, Simon Thomas Scrope, of
Danby, claimed the dormant Earldom, as heir-general of the grantee, on
the ground that the attainder was invalid, and the case occupied the
consideration of the House of Lords for ten years. In the first place,
the question arose whether by "heirs-general," collateral descendants
were meant, which was decided in the affirmative, and the claimant
then proved to the satisfaction of the House that he was the
heir-general. It was then contended that the attainder was invalid, as
taking up arms in defence of a reigning Sovereign could not by any
possibility be construed into treason; but, on the other hand, it was
argued that the attainder was legal, as it was an Act of the first
Parliament called by Henry. But it was shown that before Henry's
assumption of the crown, whilst the King was in captivity, he made
grants of the Earl's lands and goods in the name of the King, using
Richard's name and seal for the purpose, as he did also in issuing
writs for the summoning of a new Parliament, which were ante-dated so
as to appear to have been issued by the King, and this Parliament it
was which passed the Act of the Attainder. "This, of course," as
Elsynge says, "was entirely illegal, for as the Earl had been
illegally executed, without the pretence, or the possibility of a
pretence, of any legal charge or lawful trial, there could be nothing
to affect the legal rights which devolved upon his heirs, and a murder
could hardly create a forfeiture." Further, it was shown that all the
attainders of the Parliament of Henry were reversed by the first
Parliament of Edward IV., therefore, even if the attainder had been
perfectly legal, it became null and void by the subsequent reversal,
and consequently the title was now lying dormant, and belonged to the
heir-general of Sir William Scrope. This seems to be very simple,
clear, and logical, but the Lords of the nineteenth century thought
otherwise, and gave their decision that an Act of Parliament of the
fourteenth century should be held to be valid, simply because it was
an Act of Parliament, even although reversed by a subsequent Act, and
that, consequently, the claim could not be admitted. The legitimate
heir to the Earldom is, therefore, debarred from enjoying his title.
But if the principle which operated adversely to his claim were to be
set in motion retrospectively, many a proud coronet, even amongst
those who voted against the claim, would fall to the ground.
It has been said by some authorities that Sir William was not the son
of Richard, first Baron Scrope of Bolton, but his nephew, and son of
Henry, first Baron Scrope of Masham.
He purchased, _circa_ 1393, of William de Montacute, the sovereignty
of the Isle of Man, the lord of the island at that time possessing the
right of being crowned and styled king, although subject to the King
of England.
At the time of the execution of the Earl, his brother Richard was
Archbishop of York, who is represented by Walsingham, as having been
"a pious and devout man, incomparably learned, of singular integrity,
and of a goodly and amiable personage," and was so grieved at the
murder of his brother, and so exasperated against the usurper
Bolingbroke, that he entered into conspiracy with the Earl of
Northumberland, who had been alienated from the King, and had lost his
son (Hotspur) at the battle of Shrewsbury, and with Mowbray, Earl of
Norfolk, son of the banished Earl, to dethrone King Henry. The
standard of revolt, emblazoned with the five wounds of Christ, was
raised at Shipton, near York, around which 20,000 Yorkshiremen ranged
themselves. The Archbishop imprudently made known his intentions too
openly, by fixing papers to church doors, charging the King with
usurpation, perjury, sacrilege, and murder; by sending circulars to
other counties calling upon the people to take up arms for his
dethronement; and preaching three sermons denouncing him as a _pseudo_
King, and a traitor to his sovereign. The King, of course, soon heard
of these proceedings, and sent Prince John, afterwards Duke of
Bedford, and the Earl of Westmoreland, with 30,000 men, to put down
the insurrection. They found the conspirators so securely entrenched
in the forest of Galtres that they deemed it most prudent to resort to
a stratagem. By means of flattery and false promises they allured the
Archbishop from his shelter, and immediately arrested him for high
treason, taking him first to Pontefract and then to Bishopthorpe. The
King directed the famous Judge Gascoigne to try and sentence him, who
refused, saying that a Peer must be tried by his Peers. Judge
Fulthorpe, who was less scrupulous, was then appointed, and, with
scarcely the formality of a trial, condemned him to death. "Presently
after, he was set upon an ill-favoured jade, his face towards its
tail, and was carried with great scorn to a field hard by, where his
head was stricken off by a fellow that did his office very ill, not
being able to decapitate with less than five strokes." He was looked
upon as a martyr by the people, who flocked in crowds to pray at his
tomb and place of execution, which was forbidden by the King by
proclamation, and the Pope excommunicated all who were concerned in
his death. (See "The Loyal Martyr, 1722." Maydestone's "History of the
Martyrdom of Archbishop Scrope." "A Narrative of the Decollation of
Archbishop Scrope, by Thos. Gascoigne, D.D.," in MS. in the Bod. Lib.;
and "A Declaration of Archbishop Scrope against the Government of
Henry IV." in Ang. Sec., vol. 2.)
Black-faced Clifford.
Thomas, eighth Baron Clifford, is said by genealogists to have been
born in 1414, and that he was forty years of age when he fell at St.
Alban's; but he must have been nearer fifty than forty, as his son
John, ninth Baron, was born in 1430, when he would be but sixteen
years of age; but marriages were contracted early then. His daughter,
Elizabeth, was married at six years of age to Sir William Plumpton,
who, dying soon after, she was re-married to his brother, her father
stipulating that "they should not ligge together" until she had
arrived at the age of eighteen. He was a portly, soldierly-looking
figure, with a commanding presence, and a tone of voice calculated to
ensure obedience to his commands. He had spent the greater part of his
life, since the dawn of manhood, in the wars of France; was greatly
applauded for his capture of Pontoise by a clever stratagem, in 1438,
and two years afterwards won equal admiration for the skill and
bravery with which he defended it against the troops of King Charles
VII., and in 1445, he was entrusted with the high honour of escorting
to England, Margaret of Anjou, the bride of Henry VI.
John, his son, was somewhat different, possessing neither the martial
figure, the open countenance, nor the genial manner of his father. His
frame was more slenderly proportioned, his face presented rather a
scowl than a smile, and his temperament inclined to a moroseness and
brooding, which rendered him cruel in war and disagreeable amongst his
private friends.
It was a beautiful May morning in the year 1455; the sun was shining
brightly in the Vale of Craven. Breakfast was spread in the great hall
of the castle of the Cliffords. On the daïs at the upper end, sat, at
the cross table, Thomas, Lord Clifford, and his wife, the Lady Joan, a
daughter of Thomas, Lord Dacre, of Gillesland; his son John, with his
wife, Margaret, daughter of Henry Bromflete; Baron Vesey; and the
Prior of Bolton, who had come over on his mule to be present on this
occasion. Down the centre of the hall stretched the long table of
oaken planks resting on trestles, with benches on each side, on which
were seated the knights of the fees of Skipton, esquires, the priests
of the chapel, the secretary, the treasurer, the seneschal, the
constable, and other of the higher officials of the castle, with
others of meaner degree, all ranged higher or lower, above or below
the salt, according to their rank. The tables were loaded with
substantial fare--huge joints of beef, mutton, brawn, and venison;
saltfish, fresh herrings, and eels, with manchetts of bread in
trenchers, interspersed with foaming flagons of ale and pewter
tankards of sack. There was rudely cooked plenty, and keen appetites
to overlook the deficiency of delicacies.
The conversation on the daïs turned upon the great topic of the
day--the manifest aspiration of Richard, Duke of York, to the Crown of
England, and the deposition of the imbecile and monkish-minded King
Henry VI. Henry of Bolingbroke, son of John of Gaunt, fourth son of
Edward, had usurped the throne of his cousin, Richard II., and had
been succeeded by his son, Henry V., and his grandson, Henry VI.,
which usurpation gave rise to the desolating War of the Roses, now
breaking out, and it could not be denied that Richard had a better
claim, as the representative, through Anne, his mother, of the Duke of
Clarence, than Henry had, as representative of the Duke of Lancaster.
"The summons from the King arrived a week ago," said Lord Clifford in
reply to the Prior, "and you will perceive, Holy Father, that I have
lost no time in obeying it."
"And a fine body of men you have gathered together," said the Prior,
"the flower of Craven, whom it would be difficult to match for rude
bravery and devotion to the will of their lord."
"True," replied Clifford, "but we have opposed to us the men of the
Vale of Mowbray, under the Duke of Norfolk, and the stout men-at-arms
of Middleham, the followers of Warwick and Salisbury, all
Yorkshiremen, not less obstinately brave than those of Craven, to say
nothing of the Durham retainers of the Nevilles from Raby. But then we
shall have the powerful assistance of the Percys, with their troops
from Topcliffe and Leckonfield and Wressle, so that it must be a
fierce and bloody contest. I count but little upon the men of the
south and the west of England; it will be the valour of the north
which shall decide it."
"Indeed, my lord," answered the Prior, "I foresee a long and bloody
war, when such powerful competitors are pitted against each other, and
I mourn over the thousands of desolated homesteads in Merry England,
as it is wont to be called; merry, alas! I fear not, for many a long
day to come."
"Have you had any further tidings, sir," inquired the younger
Clifford, "of the movements of Richard of York?"
"Nothing," replied his father, "but that he has raised his standard on
the borders of Wales, and is marching with his troops upon London, to
demand justice upon Somerset; and further, I have received information
that Salisbury, Warwick, and Mowbray, are hastening to join him. But
we must not waste more time; we must perform a long march before
sunset."
A short service was held, and mass said in the chapel before the
leaders, by the Prior, and the head priest of the chapel extemporised
a religious service in the courtyard to the soldiers, who stood
bareheaded, and listened devoutly. In those days the lower classes,
however rough and barbarous they might be, implicitly believed what
was told them by the priests, without any dogmatic scruples whatever,
believing that the shriving of the priest or monk cleared off all old
scores of sin, and they might, without compunction, commence a fresh
score; the sum and substance of their religion being to serve their
feudal lord faithfully, accept the dogmas of the priest, and
contribute according to their means to the money-chests of the Church
and the monastery.
There was but scant leave-taking; the women of that time were so
accustomed to parting with their husbands and sons for the French and
Scottish wars, that they looked upon it as a matter of course. Outside
the walls was a gathering of the wives, children, and sweethearts of
the rank and file, with whom there were some tender leave-takings from
those, so many of whom they would never more see, and who, despite
their rough exterior, possessed within them hearts beating with
affection and tenderness towards the cheerers of their cottage
firesides.
The Royalists of Craven made but slow progress as they wended their
way southward. It was not until after some ten days' marching along
rough roads, entangled woods, the fording of rivers, and tramping
through morasses, that Lord Clifford and the men of Craven found
themselves on the borders of Hertfordshire. Here they met with a
messenger from the King, with information that Henry and Somerset,
with an army, small in number, but composed chiefly of nobles and
knights, men of experience and valour, had come forth from London to
meet the Yorkists, and would await Lord Clifford's arrival at Watford,
bidding him to speed with all haste to that rendezvous. Lord Clifford
and his son at this summons spurred on their chargers, leaving the
troops to follow. They found the King occupying a house in the small
town, and in conference with the Duke of Somerset, who had been
nominated by the Queen to the Generalship-in-chief of the forces; they
were admitted to the presence at once, and were cordially received by
Henry, Lord Clifford being high in his favour. The Yorkshire
contingent entered the town soon after, with their banners displayed
and trumpets sounding, and pitched their tents alongside those of the
King's army. A council of war was called in the evening, and Lord
Clifford had the gratification of meeting there his uncle Henry,
second Earl of Northumberland, now sixty years of age, King Henry V.
having reversed the attainder of his grandfather, for the Shrewsbury
and Bramham affairs, and restored him to the Percy estates and
dignities, since which he had won distinction by sharing in the glory
of Agincourt. At this council it was determined to march, on the
following morning, upon St. Alban's, as it was ascertained from scouts
that Richard of York, between whom and Somerset there was bitter
enmity, was marching in that direction with an army he had gathered
round him at Ludlow, which had been augmented on the road by the
contingents of his sympathisers, and was supposed to outnumber the
forces ranged under the Lancastrian banner.
The following morning the tents around Watford were struck by
daylight; the troops breakfasted, and, with banners flying and
trumpets sounding, they commenced their march towards St. Alban's. Sir
Philip Wentworth carried the Royal standard; and with the King, as a
guard of honour, were Humphrey, Duke of Buckingham, and his son, Earl
Stafford; Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland; James Butler, Earl of
Wiltshire; Thomas, Lord Clifford; and other nobles of the first rank.
As the army approached St. Alban's, they perceived the uplands in
front of them covered with armed men, moving rapidly along towards the
old Roman city, in battle array. On seeing this, the Lancastrians
halted, set up the Royal standard, with Lord Clifford and his Craven
men to guard the barriers. The Duke of Buckingham was sent to demand
of the Duke of York why he thus appeared before his Sovereign. Duke
Richard replied that he was loyal to the King, sought only for justice
upon Somerset, and would at once lay down his arms if he would
surrender him to be dealt with according to the laws of the kingdom.
The King, on receiving this message, displayed unwonted spirit, and
replied that "he would as soon give up his crown as deliver up either
Somerset or the meanest soldier in his camp to the mercy of the
Yorkists." This answer was final, and the Red and the White Rose met
for the first time in the struggle of battle.
The Lancastrians had the advantage of position, and were so certain
of victory that Somerset issued orders that no quarter should be given
to the Yorkists, but the latter had firearms of a rude description,
which gave them a counter advantage. Clifford, however, kept them at
bay bravely, and prevented them from coming to close conflict.
Meanwhile, Warwick, with his northern warriors, entered the town from
the other side, and fell upon the King's troops with such vigour that,
as Hall says, "the King's army was profligate disposed, and all the
chieftains of the field almost slain and brought to confusion." The
barriers were at length burst, and York entered the town, and then in
the streets were heard the shouts of "A Warwick! a Warwick!" on the
other side "A York! a York!" and in the midst the war cries of "King
Henry! a Somerset! a Percy! a Clifford!" etc., all intermingled with
the clash of swords upon armour and shield; the whir of arrows flying
through the air; the groans of wounded and dying men, and the screams
of flying women; whilst the market-place was strewn with the bodies of
fallen men, and the streets flowed with blood. Shakspeare makes
Clifford fall at the hand of the Duke of York. Warwick enters
crying--
"Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls!
And if thou do'st not hide thee from the bear
Now when the angry trumpet sounds alarm
And dead men's cries do fill the empty air,
Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me!
Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland,
Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms."
York, however, interposes, and claims the right of fighting with him.
"_Clifford._--What seest thou in me, York? Why dost thou pause?
_York._--With thy brave bearing I should be in love,
But that thou art so fast mine enemy.
_Clifford._--Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem,
But that 'tis shown ignobly and in treason.
_York._--So let it help me now against thy sword,
As I in justice and true right express it!
_Clifford._--My soul and body on the action both!
_York._--A dreadful lay!--address thee instantly.
(_They fight, and Clifford falls._)
_Clifford._--La fin couronne les oeuvres. (_Dies._)
_York._--Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still.
Peace with his soul, Heaven, if it be Thy will."
The slaughter of Lord Clifford at the hands of the Duke of York is the
keynote to young Clifford's subsequent ruthless hatred of the House of
York. Coming up to the body of his father, Shakspeare puts these words
into his mouth--
"Wast thou ordain'd, dear father,
To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve
The silvery livery of advised age,
And in thy reverence, and thy chair-days thus
To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight
My heart is turn'd to stone; and while 'tis mine
It shall be stony. York not our old men spares:
No more will I their babes; tears virginal
Shall be to me even as the dew to fire;
And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims,
Shall, to my flaming wrath, be oil and flax.
Henceforth I will not have to do with pity
Meet I an infant of the house of York,
Into as many gobbets will I cut it
As wild Medea young Absyrtus did.
In cruelty will I seek out my fame.
Come thou new ruin of old Clifford's house.
(_Taking up the body._)
As old Æneas did Anchises bear,
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders.
But then Æneas bore a living load,
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine."
Although the Lancastrians fought bravely, nothing could withstand the
superior number of the Yorkists, combined, as it was, with the
military skill and impetuous valour of the Earl of Warwick, and in a
short space of time there lay dead the Duke of Somerset and the Earls
of Northumberland and Stafford; and the Duke of Buckingham and the
Earl of Wiltshire and Ormond grievously wounded. Thus deprived of
their chief leaders, the King being a mere cipher, the Lancastrians
threw down their weapons and fled, Wentworth flinging down the Royal
standard and spurring his horse in the direction of Suffolk. The poor
King was captured; but York treated him with great courtesy and
kindness, conducted him to St. Alban's Abbey, where they prayed
together at the shrine of the martyr, and then went together, victor
and vanquished, to London.
The Yorkists were now in the ascendant, but acted with great
moderation. There were no executions and no attainders; so Clifford
succeeded to the title and kept the estates. The King was again
attacked by his old malady, and again was Richard of York appointed
Protector; but Queen Margaret now began to exhibit her qualities, and
to intrigue in politics. She was truly an able and brave woman, but
vindictive and rash. She succeeded in ousting York from the
Protectorship, and took measures for crushing him effectually; and
again the flames of war broke out.
Lord Clifford did not, under these circumstances, sit at home brooding
over his misfortunes and the bitterness of his hatred to the house of
York. He was always on the alert, at London or elsewhere, attending on
Councils of State or engaged in the field. He fought at Bloreheath,
in 1459, and at Northampton, in 1460, on both of which occasions his
party suffered a defeat; but Margaret, nothing daunted, raised an army
of 18,000 men, and proceeded at their head into Yorkshire, in face of
the frosts and snows of the December of 1460. The Duke of York, with a
small army of 5,000 men, went from London and threw himself into
Sandal Castle, by Wakefield, there to await the arrival of his son
Edward, Earl of March, who was mustering forces in the Welsh Marches.
The Queen came with her army upon Wakefield Green, with the Duke of
Somerset, son of the slain Duke, in chief command, and Clifford and
Wiltshire, son of the Earl who fell at St. Alban's, in command of
ambuscades, one on each side. Then, aware of her numerical
superiority, she appeared before Sandal, and summoned the Duke to come
forth and fight her. "What, are you afraid of encountering an army led
by a woman? Cowardly poltroon! can you be fit to wear the crown of
England, who shut yourself up in a castle against a woman?" York
called a council of war, and was earnestly dissuaded against running
the hazard of a battle before the arrival of his son; but, taunted by
the jeers of the Queen, he felt that his honour was concerned in
fighting at once, despite the numerical odds, and forth he went with
his small army, not one-third that of the Queen.
The Duke sallied forth and met Somerset, with a comparatively small
force, on Wakefield Green, whom he attacked with great vigour,
anticipating, with his better-disciplined men, an easy victory; but
the ambuscades under Clifford and Wiltshire came out upon his flanks,
whilst a contingent of Northern Borderers attacked his rear, and thus,
completely surrounded, his small force succumbed, the White Rose
drooped, and the Red, for the first time, was triumphant. This battle
brought to an end the ambitious aspirations of Richard of York. He was
one of the first to fall, and with him Sir Thomas Neville, Lord
Salisbury's son, and Lord Harrington, the husband of Katherine
Neville, his daughter. Lord Salisbury himself was wounded, but not
sufficiently to prevent his galloping off from the scene. Clifford
however, followed in hot pursuit, captured, and sent him to Pontefract
Castle, where he was at once beheaded.