The fate of the leading conspirators in Lambert Simnel's case, instead
of acting as a warning to deter others from similar attacks, really
appeared as if it were only designed as prelude to a far more serious
attempt to wrest the crown from Henry's head. Unfortunately for the
welfare of England, no sooner had the pseudo Edward been disposed of,
than the King had to contend with another and a far more redoubtable
claimant to the throne.
In 1491 this new aspirant to the crown began to noise his pretensions
abroad, proclaiming himself to be Richard, the younger of the two sons
of the deceased King Edward, who were supposed to have been murdered in
the Tower by order of their uncle, the late King Richard the Third.
This young claimant, admitted to have been a youth of noble aspect, and
in features much resembling the late Edward the Fourth, whilst
acknowledging that his elder brother had been killed, asserted that he
had been permitted to escape. In a letter, which is now in the British
Museum, and which the youth wrote to Isabella of Spain, he states that
at the time his brother was murdered he was nine years of age; that he
was sent out of England secretly, in the custody of two persons, and
was compelled to take an oath that he would not divulge his name and
rank to any one until after a certain number of years. Having
fulfilled the conditions of his promise, he left Portugal, where he had
resided for some time, and in 1492 landed in Ireland. The citizens of
Cork, which was the first city he honoured with a visit, undeterred by
the exposure of the late pretender to royalty, were for warmly
espousing the cause of this claimant, yet were somewhat restrained by
the prudence of the new Earl of Kildare. At this critical moment
Charles, King of France, being at war with Henry the Seventh, sent a
cordial invitation to the _soi disant_ prince to come to Paris. The
invitation was readily accepted, and the pretender once more crossed
the seas. In France he was received everywhere with royal honours, and
treated by everybody as the Duke of York, heir to the English crown.
This courtesy was, however, as Bacon points out, doubtless only
trickery on the part of the French king in order to force Henry into a
peace. A treaty was speedily concluded between the two monarchs, one
result of which was the dismissal of the young adventurer, King Charles
refusing, nevertheless, to deliver up his youthful guest to the English
king's untender mercies.
Forced to forsake France, the pretender betook himself to the Court of
Burgundy, where the old Duchess, whose nephew he claimed to be,
protected and assisted all adherents of the House of York. The old
Duchess Margaret, sister of Edward the Fourth, had long asserted her
belief in the existence of one of her nephews, and was only too likely
to acknowledge any presentable claimant; but the support which she had
rendered Simnel in his recent exploit did not tell in favour of her
present _protege_. Upon this occasion she was, or pretended to be,
very searching in her scrutiny into the adventurer's story, but, at
last, appearing to be perfectly convinced of the justice of his claims
to kinship, she recognized him as her nephew; embraced him
affectionately; styled him "The White Rose of England;" appointed him a
guard of thirty persons, and furnished him with everything suitable for
the maintenance of his presumed princely rank. The lad, indeed, is
universally admitted to have displayed in all his conduct a noble
bearing, and if he were, as Henry's partisans assert, only a wandering
trader's son, he certainly did credit to the alleged secret
instructions of his putative aunt.
Lord Verulam, to account for the likeness between the young pretender
and the late King Edward, as also to explain his courtly bearing and
princely deportment, tells a strange and extremely improbable story, to
the effect that the lad was son of a converted Jew, named variously
John, and Peter, Osbeck, a resident of Tournay, but whom business
brought to London. This Osbeck resided in London for some time, having
with him his wife, who, during the period of their residence in the
English metropolis, was confined of a boy. Osbeck, says Bacon, "being
known in Court, the King, either out of a religious nobleness, because
he" (the father) "was a convert, or upon some private acquaintance, did
him the honour to be godfather to his child," and, it is to be
presumed, endowed him with regal inclinations. This needless legend is
set in contrast with another in the next page, wherein the chronicler,
forgetting the "religious nobleness" of the licentious monarch,
subjoins that it was said, "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 it might give occasion to the boy, in being called 'King Edward's
godson,' or, perhaps in sport, 'King Edward's son,' to entertain such
thoughts in his head. For tutor he had none (for aught that appears),
as Lambert Simnel had, until he came unto the Lady Margaret, who
instructed him."
The advocate for the crafty, avaricious, old Tudor king, next indulges
in a lengthy and apparently imaginative account of the secret tuition
of the comely lad by the Duchess of Burgundy, with whose innermost
thoughts Bacon professes the closest acquaintanceship. He shrewdly
guesses that "Perkin Warbeck" had counterfeited for so long a time the
person of the murdered prince, that at last, "with oft telling a lie,
he was turned by habit almost into the thing he seemed to be, and from
a liar to a believer." Be this as it may, the _soi disant_ Richard,
comfortably installed at the Court of Flanders, speedily discovered
means of opening communications with England. Many members of the
highest families, including, so it was alleged, Sir William Stanley, a
relative of the King, and who had even saved Henry's life and crown at
Bosworth, were involved in a plot, having for its object the overthrow
of the reigning monarch, and, apparently, the substitution for him of
the Burgundian protege. Henry was well provided with spies, who kept
him closely informed of all that was brewing; but his efforts to obtain
possession of "le garson," as he termed the claimant, were unavailable;
whilst all his declarations that he was perfectly at his ease with
respect to the "impostor, as every one knew who and what he was," only
served to display his anxiety.
By means of the King's gold, the whole of the conspiracy on foot was
revealed: Sir Robert Clifford, one of the conspirators, betrayed his
companions for five hundred pounds and a free pardon, and two other
accomplices for sums proportionate to their lower rank. The whole
details of the plot were unravelled, and the chief members of it,
including Stanley, were brought to the block. Stanley's complicity in
the "Perkin Warbeck" conspiracy has been doubted by modern historians,
who have not hesitated to aver that his wealth was his principal crime
in the King's eyes; indeed, the only charge that was made against him
was, that if he were sure the claimant was King Edward's son, he would
not bear arms against him.
The discovery of the plot, and the fate of its principal concocters,
appeared to be a death-blow to the young adventurer's cause; but he,
all undaunted, taking advantage of Henry's absence in the north, with
the aid of the Duchess of Burgundy fitted out an expedition, and tried
to effect a rising in England. Some portion of his followers landed at
Deal, but instead of obtaining assistance were attacked by the Kentish
men, and either killed at once or made prisoners, and subsequently
hanged. Discouraged by this hostile reception, "Perkin" returned to
Flanders, whence he shortly betook himself once more to Ireland. There
he again failed to arouse the populace on his behalf, although joined
by Desmond and some others of less note. "As," says Bacon, "there was
nothing left for Perkin but the blustering affection of wild and naked
people," and as he had lost three of his vessels in a futile attempt to
capture Waterford, he had to relinquish his efforts in that quarter.
Again repelled in his efforts to obtain a footing in Ireland, the
intrepid wanderer crossed over to Scotland, to the warlike monarch of
which country he carried recommendatory letters not only from the
Duchess of Burgundy, but also from the French King and the Emperor of
Germany. By the Scottish King the presumed prince was received with
open arms, and in every way treated as if he were the personage he
claimed to be. There is every reason for believing that James credited
his guest's story; outwardly, at least, he paid him all deference;
addressed him as "cousin," and gave him for wife his own relative, the
beautiful Lady Catherine Gordon, daughter of the Earl of Huntley, and
granddaughter of James the First of Scotland. It seems very unlikely
that the Scottish monarch would have sanctioned the marriage of Lady
Catherine with the adventurer unless convinced of his royal birth.
Under the pretext of assisting his youthful guest to regain his
dominions, James headed two warlike incursions into England. Unable to
resist so good an opportunity of looting, the Scottish army carried off
everything of value; and when the young adventurer, according to
Polydore Vergil, the historian, "feigning" to be distressed at the
devastation inflicted, implored the King to spare his miserable
subjects, James replied, sneeringly, that it was very generous to be so
careful of what did not belong to him, as not a man had yet joined his
standard. No one, indeed, of any consequence did join the claimant
upon these occasions; and as the raids proved disastrous to the
Scottish forces, Henry was enabled to make peace on his own terms with
James; offered him his eldest daughter, Margaret, in marriage, and
forced him to withdraw his protection from Perkin.
Compelled once more to resume his search for an asylum, the luckless
pretender, accompanied by his beautiful wife and a few faithful
followers, left Scotland; not, however, without bearing away with him
some substantial proof of the Scottish King's regard. Again he sought
shelter in Ireland, but the Irish appearing less disposed than before
to espouse his cause, he departed for Cornwall, where much discontent
prevailed on account of Henry's oppressive taxation. With only three
vessels and seventy men the claimant landed at Whitsand Bay, near
Land's End, on the 7th September, 1497. He sent his wife to St.
Michael's Mount for safety; and then, at the head of an irregular body
of three thousand men, whom he had got together by liberal promises, he
marched on Exeter, to which city he laid siege, in compliance with the
advice of his adherents that he should endeavour to make himself master
of some walled town. He sent a demand to the citizens to surrender to
him, but as he had no artillery to enforce his claims, his assumed
title of Richard the Fourth, King of England, inspired little
reverence, and after some unsuccessful assaults he was compelled to
raise the siege and hastily retire to Taunton. Seeing clearly how
utterly incompetent his undisciplined forces were to compete with the
veteran troops Henry was sending against him, he forsook them in the
night, and, accompanied by several of his principal followers, fled to
the monastery of Beaulieu, in the New Forest, and there claimed
sanctuary. His followers, left without a leader, surrendered without
an effort; a number of them were hanged, and the rest heavily fined.
Not daring to violate the privileges of a sanctuary, Henry had the
Beaulieu Monastery securely guarded; the meanwhile he contrived to
obtain possession of the Lady Catherine Gordon, mightily afraid that
she might give birth to a child, in which case, as Bacon shrewdly
remarks, "the business would not have ended in Perkin's person." The
politic king received the royal lady kindly, and sent her to the queen;
awarded her "honourable allowance for the support of her estate, which
she enjoyed both during the king's life and many years after."
Determined not to let go his hold on Perkin, the king promised him a
full pardon upon condition that he confessed himself an impostor.
Unable to discover any means of escape, the pretender accepted Henry's
conditions, and on the 5th October surrendered to the royal troops at
Taunton. He did not reach London until the end of November, and on his
arrival was sent as a prisoner to the Tower. At first the supposed
Richard was treated with much respect, and the evidence of his official
examination kept strictly secret; although the garbled and absurd
account of it which Henry caused to be published was so contradictory
and generally unsatisfactory, that "men missing of that they looked
for," says the chronicler, "looked about for they knew not what, and
were in more doubt than before." Perkin, on his way to the Tower, was
made to traverse the city on horseback, but not in any ignominious
fashion; and although scoffed at by some, by the majority was treated
with respect.
After about six months of detention, the pretender contrived or was
permitted to escape; but such diligent pursuit was made that he was
compelled to again take sanctuary, and this time in the Priory of
Shene, in Surrey. As soon as his retreat was publicly known, the King
was advised to take him forth and hang him, but Henry was too prudent
for such a course. At the intercession of the Prior of Shene, the King
promised to spare the fugitive's life, bidding them "take him forth,
and set the knave in the stocks." Taken from his place of refuge, and
brought back to London, the wretched youth was fettered and placed for
a whole day in the stocks, and on the following day, the 14th June,
1499, was compelled to read from a scaffold, erected in Cheapside, a
lengthy and rambling confession, in which, among other matters, he
acknowledged himself to be Perkin, son of John Warbeck, a Flemish
tradesman, and that he had been taught to enact his part by various
enemies of King Henry.
After the second reading of this "confession," which was so badly
composed that it served rather to confirm than dissipate the belief
that the so-called "Perkin" was the personage he had assumed to be, the
prisoner was again incarcerated in the Tower, where he became the
companion and friend of the unfortunate Edward, Earl of Warwick, whom
Lambert Simnel had formerly counterfeited. Such was the fascination of
the claimant's manners that he not only won the friendship of his
fellow-prisoners, but also the favour of his keepers, the four servants
of Sir John Digby, the Lieutenant, who, apparently, conspired together
to permit the escape of the two captives, and to aid them to excite
another insurrection. The whole plot in all probability originated in
the cunning of Henry, who made it a pretext for the trial and execution
of both his troublesome prisoners. "The opinion of the King's great
wisdom," as Bacon dexterously recounts it, "did surcharge him with a
sinister fame, that Perkin was but his bait to entrap the Earl of
Warwick."
About the time of this presumed plot, and most opportunely for Henry,
another claimant to the name and title of the young Earl of Warwick
appeared in Suffolk. Although this pretender was speedily taken and
executed, the state of disquietude these events kept the country in
afforded the King ample excuse for proceeding to extremities,
notwithstanding the fact that the whole affair was regarded as a subtle
device of the Sovereign. Accordingly, on the 16th November, 1419,
Perkin was brought to trial, and was found guilty upon the indictment
of having conspired, in company with the hapless Earl of Warwick, "to
raise sedition and destroy the King." Upon the 23rd of the month
Perkin was taken from the Tower to Tyburn, and, after having again read
his confession and vouched for its truth, was executed. Such was the
end of this strange drama, which was, as Bacon remarks, "one of the
longest plays of that kind."
The case of Perkin Warbeck is one of the most mysterious on record; and
in attempting to gauge the truth or falsity of his claim to royalty it
must not be overlooked that the only contemporary records of him and
his adventures are by those who professedly wrote on King Henry's
behalf, and were not, therefore, likely to be over scrupulous in
suppressing any facts tending to support the pretender's claims. The
confession wrung from him under fear of death is of little or no value;
the absence of all allusion in it to the Duchess of Burgundy seems to
disprove the assertion that it was written by Perkin himself; whilst
the absurd statement it contained that he, a thorough master apparently
of the language, did not learn English until forced to, after his
arrival at Cork, is most suspicious. He was never confronted with his
supposed mother, the Queen Dowager, whom Henry had in safe keeping at
Bermondsey, nor were any judicial steps taken to expose his imposture,
if such it were. The King was most studiously careful to keep all
records of the affair out of the people's sight; he took Tyrrell, the
supposed chief murderer of the young princes, into his favour, and
never had, what might have satisfied the suspicions of many, the
remains of the two lads publicly exhumed. According to the account of
Sir Thomas More, the murdered princes were first buried "at the
stairfoot, deep in the ground, under a heap of stones," but were
afterwards taken up, at the desire of King Richard, and reburied by the
Tower Chaplain "privately, in a place that, by reason of his death,
never came to light." This account, if true, would seem to cast a
doubt upon the identity of the "small bones" discovered under the
staircase in the reign of Charles the Second, and by him had interred
and commemorated as the remains of the royal princes.
The circumstantial account of Lord Verulam is so enveloped in mystery
and innuendo, and his desire to screen the Tudor King is so
self-evident, that it has caused many, including the sophistical and
shallow Walpole, to believe and assert that "Perkin Warbeck" was indeed
the royal personage he claimed to be.