1723, "than at the sight of the following ballad; little expecting to
see pride and wickedness laid to the charge of the most affable and
most virtuous of women: whose glorious actions are not recorded by
_our_ historians only; for no foreign writers, who have touched upon
those early times, have in silence passed over this illustrious
princess, and every nation rings with the praise of Eleonora Isabella
of Castile, King Edward's Queen. Father Le Monie, who (in his
_Gallérie des Femmes Fortes_) has searched all Christendom round, from
its very infancy to the last age, for five heroines, very partially
bestows the first place upon one of his own country-women, but gives
the second, with a far superior character, to this queen."
In this absurdly false and ignorant production, the well-beloved
Eleonora of Castile is no doubt confounded with her most unpopular
mother-in-law, Eleanor of Provence, the wife of Henry the Third, whose
luxurious habits, and quarrels with the city of London, might afford
some shadow of a basis for the impossible slanders of the
ballad-singer. Queenhithe was a quay, the tolls of which formed part
of the revenue of the Queen, and Eleanor of Provence rendered herself
extremely odious by compelling vessels, for the sake of her fees, to
unlade there. Charing-cross was one of thirteen monuments raised by
Edward the First at the stages, where his queen's body rested, on its
progress from the place of her decease to Westminster. In the
connection of both these places with the name of a Queen Eleanor may
be found (as Miss Strickland suggests in her _Lives of the Queens_)
the germ of the marvellous story of the disappearance at Charing-cross
and the resurrection at Queenhithe.
That portion of the story which relates to the cruelty exercised by
the queen towards the Lord Mayor's wife is borrowed from the _Gesta
Romanorum_. See Madden's _Old English Versions_, &c. p. 226, _Olimpus
the Emperour_. Peele's _Chronicle History of Edward the First_
exhibits the same misrepresentations of Eleanor of Castile. See what
is said of this play in connection with the ballad of _Queen Eleanor's
Confession_, vol. vi. p. 209. The whole title of the ballad is:--
A Warning Piece to England against Pride and Wickedness:
Being the Fall of Queen Eleanor, Wife to Edward the First, King of
England; who, for her pride, by God's Judgments, sunk into the
Ground at Charing-cross and rose at Queenhithe.
When Edward was in England king,
The first of all that name,
Proud Ellinor he made his queen,
A stately Spanish dame:
Whose wicked life, and sinful pride, 5
Thro' England did excel:
To dainty dames, and gallant maids,
This queen was known full well.
She was the first that did invent
In coaches brave to ride; 10
She was the first that brought this land
To deadly sin of pride.
No English taylor here could serve
To make her rich attire;
But sent for taylors into Spain, 15
To feed her vain desire.
They brought in fashions strange and new,
With golden garments bright;
The farthingale, and mighty ruff,
With gowns of rich delight: 20
The London dames, in Spanish pride,
Did flourish every where;
Our English men, like women then,
Did wear long locks of hair.
Both man and child, both maid and wife, 25
Were drown'd in pride of Spain:
And thought the Spanish taylors then
Our English men did stain:
Whereat the queen did much despite,
To see our English men 30
In vestures clad, as brave to see
As any Spaniard then.
She crav'd the king, that ev'ry man
That wore long locks of hair,
Might then be cut and polled all, 35
Or shaved very near.
Whereat the king did seem content,
And soon thereto agreed;
And first commanded, that his own
Should then be cut with speed: 40
And after that, to please his queen,
Proclaimed thro' the land,
That ev'ry man that wore long hair
Should poll him out of hand.
But yet this Spaniard, not content, 45
To women bore a spite,
And then requested of the king,
Against all law and right,
That ev'ry womankind should have
Their right breast cut away; 50
And then with burning irons sear'd,
The blood to stanch and stay!
King Edward then, perceiving well
Her spite to womankind,
Devised soon by policy 55
To turn her bloody mind.
He sent for burning irons straight,
All sparkling hot to see;
And said, "O queen, come on thy way;
"I will begin with thee." 60
Which words did much displease the queen,
That penance to begin;
But ask'd him pardon on her knees;
Who gave her grace therein.
But afterwards she chanc'd to pass 65
Along brave London streets,
Whereas the mayor of London's wife
In stately sort she meets;
With music, mirth, and melody,
Unto the church they went, 70
To give God thanks, that to th' lord mayor
A noble son had sent.
It grieved much this spiteful queen,
To see that any one
Should so exceed in mirth and joy, 75
Except herself alone:
For which, she after did devise
Within her bloody mind,
And practis'd still more secretly,
To kill this lady kind. 80
Unto the mayor of London then
She sent her letters straight,
To send his lady to the court,
Upon her grace to wait.
But when the London lady came 85
Before proud El'nor's face,
She stript her from her rich array,
And kept her vile and base.
She sent her into Wales with speed,
And kept her secret there, 90
And us'd her still more cruelly
Than ever man did hear.
She made her wash, she made her starch,
She made her drudge alway;
She made her nurse up children small, 95
And labour night and day.
But this contented not the queen,
But shew'd her most despite;
She bound this lady to a post,
At twelve a clock at night; 100
And as, poor lady, she stood bound,
The queen, in angry mood,
Bid set two snakes unto her breast,
That suck'd away her blood.
Thus died the mayor of London's wife, 105
Most grievous for to hear;
Which made the Spaniard grow more proud,
As after shall appear.
The wheat that daily made her bread
Was bolted twenty times; 110
The food that fed this stately dame,
Was boil'd in costly wines.
The water that did spring from ground,
She would not touch at all;
But wash'd her hands with the dew of heav'n, 115
That on sweet roses fall.
She bath'd her body many a time
In fountains fill'd with milk;
And ev'ry day did change attire,
In costly Median silk. 120
But coming then to London back,
Within her coach of gold,
A tempest strange within the skies
This queen did there behold:
Out of which storm she could not go, 125
But there remain'd a space;
Four horses could not stir the coach
A foot out of the place.
A judgment lately sent from heav'n,
For shedding guiltless blood, 130
Upon this sinful queen, that slew
The London lady good!
King Edward then, as wisdom will'd,
Accus'd her of that deed;
But she denied, and wish'd that God 135
Would send his wrath with speed,--
If that upon so vile a thing
Her heart did ever think,
She wish'd the ground might open wide,
And she therein might sink! 140
With that, at Charing-cross she sunk
Into the ground alive,
And after rose with life again,
In London, at Queenhithe.
When, after that, she languish'd sore 145
Full twenty days in pain,
At last confess'd the lady's blood
Her guilty hand had slain:
And likewise, how that by a fryar
She had a base-born child; 150
Whose sinful lusts and wickedness
Her marriage bed defil'd.
Thus have you heard the fall of pride,
A just reward of sin;
For those who will forswear themselves, 155
God's vengeance daily win.
Beware of pride, ye courtly dames,
Both wives and maidens all;
Bear this imprinted on your mind,
That pride must have a fall. 160
THE DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK'S CALAMITY.
From _Strange Histories_, p. 17 (Percy Society, vol. iii). Other
copies, with variations, are in _The Crown-Garland of Golden Roses_,
Part II. p. 20 (Percy Society, vol. xv.), and _A Collection of Old
Ballads_, iii. 91. The editor of _Strange Histories_ informs us that a
play on the same subject as the ballad was written by Thomas Drew, or
Drue, early in the reign of James I., and printed in 1631, under the
title of _The Duchess of Suffolk, her Life_. He remarks further that
both play and ballad was founded upon the narrative of Fox, anno 1558
[_Acts and Monuments_, iii. 926, ed. 1641]; but the differences
between Fox's account and the story which follows are altogether too
great for this supposition to be true.
Katharine, daughter of Lord Willoughby of Eresby, was first married to
Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, and after his death to Richard
Bertie, Esq., with whom she was forced to fly from persecution in
1553, taking refuge first in the Low Countries, and afterwards in
Poland.
When God had taken for our sinne
That prudent prince, King Edward, away,
Then bloudy Bonner did begin
His raging mallice to bewray;
All those that did the Gospell professe 5
He persecuted more or lesse.
Thus, when the Lord on us did lower,
Many in pryson did he throw,
Tormenting them in Lollards tower,[L9]
Whereby they might the trueth forgoe: 10
Then Cranmer, Ridley, and the rest,
Were burnt in fire, that Christ profest.
Smithfield was then with faggots fild,
And many places more beside;
At Coventry was Sanders kild, 15
At Glocester eke good Hooper dyde;
And to escape this bloudy day,
Beyond-seas many fled away.
Among the rest that sought reliefe
And for their faith in daunger stood, 20
Lady Elizabeth was chiefe,
King Henries daughter of royall blood;
Which in the Tower prisoner did lie,
Looking each day when she should die.
The Dutchesse of Suffolke, seeing this, 25
Whose life likewise the tyrant sought,
Who in the hope of heavenly blisse
Within God's word her comfort wrought,[L28]
For feare of death was faine to flie,
And leave her house most secretly. 30
That for the love of Christ alone,
Her lands and goods she left behind,
Seeking still for that pretious stone,
The worde of trueth, so rare to find:
She with her nurse, her husband, and child, 35
In poor array their sights beguild.
Thus through London they passed along,
Each one did passe a severall streete;
Thus all unknowne, escaping wrong,
At Billings-gate they all did meete: 40
Like people poore, in Gravesend barge,
They simply went with all their charge.
And all along from Gravesend towne
With easie journeyes on foote they went;
Unto the sea-coast they came downe, 45
To passe the seas was their intent;
And God provided so that day,
That they tooke shippe and sayld away.
And with a prosperous gale of wind
In Flanders safe they did arive; 50
This was to their great ease of minde,
Which from their hearts much woe did drive;
And so with thanks to God on hie,
They tooke their way to Germanie.
Thus as they traveld, thus disguisde, 55
Upon the high way sodainely
By cruell theeves they were surprisde,
Assaulting their small companie;
And all their treasure and their store
They tooke away, and beate them sore. 60
The nurse in middest of their fight
Laid downe the child upon the ground;
She ran away out of their sight,
And never after that was found:
Then did the Dutchesse make great mone 65
With her good husband all alone.
The theeves had there their horses kilde,
And all their money quite had tooke;
The pretty babie, almost spild,
Was by their nurse likewise forsooke, 70
And they farre from their friends did stand,
All succourlesse in a strange land.
The skies likewise began to scowle;
It hayld and raind in pittious sort;
The way was long and wonderous foule; 75
Then may I now full well report
Their griefe and sorrow was not small,
When this unhappy chaunce did fall.
Sometime the Dutchesse bore the child,
As wet as ever she could be, 80
And when the lady kind and mild
Was wearie, then the child bore hee;
And thus they one another easde,
And with their fortunes were well pleasde.
And after many wearied steppes, 85
All wet-shod both in durt and myre,
After much griefe, their hearts yet leapes,
(For labour doth some rest require);
A towne before them they did see,
But lodgd therein they could not bee. 90
From house to house they both did goe,
Seeking where they that night might lie,
But want of money was their woe,
And still the babe with cold did crie;
With capp and knee they courtsey make, 95
But none on them would pittie take.
Loe here a princesse of great blood
Did pray a peasant for reliefe,
With tears bedewed as she stood!
Yet few or none regardes her griefe; 100
Her speech they could not understand,
But gave her a pennie in her hand.
When all in vaine the paines was spent,
And that they could not house-roome get,
Into a church-porch then they went, 105
To stand out of the raine and wet:
Then said the Dutchesse to her deare,
"O that we had some fier heere!"
Then did her husband so provide
That fire and coales he got with speede; 110
She sate downe by the fiers side,
To dresse her daughter, that had neede;
And while she drest it in her lapp,
Her husband made the infant papp.
Anone the sexton thither came, 115
And finding them there by the fire,
The drunken knave, all voyde of shame,
To drive them out was his desire:
And spurning forth this noble dame,
Her husbands wrath it did inflame. 120
And all in furie as he stood,
He wroung the church-keies out of his hand,
And strooke him so, that all of blood
His head ran downe where he did stand;
Wherefor the sexton presently 125
For helpe and ayde aloude did cry.
Then came the officers in hast,
And tooke the Dutchesse and her child,
And with her husband thus they past,
Like lambes beset with tygers wild, 130
And to the governour were they brought,
Who understood them not in ought.
Then Maister Bartue, brave and bold,
In Latine made a gallant speech,
Which all their miserie did unfold, 135
And their high favour did beseech:
With that, a doctor sitting by
Did know the Dutchesse presently.
And thereupon arising straight,
With minde abashed at their sight, 140
Unto them all that there did waight,
He thus brake forth, in wordes aright:
"Behold within your sight," quoth hee,
"A princesse of most high degree."
With that the governour and the rest 145
Were all amazde the same to heare,
And welcomméd these new-come guestes
With reverence great and princely cheare;
And afterward conveyd they were
Unto their friend Prince Cassemere. 150
A sonne she had in Germanie,
Peregrine Bartue cald by name,
Surnamde The Good Lord Willobie,
Of courage great and worthie fame.
Her daughter young, which with her went, 155
Was afterward Countesse of Kent.
For when Queene Mary was deceast,
The Dutchesse home returnde againe,
Who was of sorrow quite releast
By Queene Elizabeth's happie raigne: 160
For whose life and prosperitie
We may prayse God continually.
9. There is said to be a place so called in the archiepiscopal palace at
Lambeth.
28. _So_, C. G. G. R., for which in.
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF FAMOUS THO. STUKELY, AN ENGLISH GALLANT IN THE
TIME OF QUEENE ELIZABETH, WHO ENDED HIS DAYES IN A BATTAILE OF KINGS
IN BARBARIE.
Thomas Stuckley, says Fuller, "was a younger brother, of an ancient,
wealthy, and worshipful family, nigh Ilfracombe in this county
[Devon], being one of good parts; but valued the less by others,
because overprized by himself. Having prodigally mis-spent his
patrimony, he entered on several projects (the issue general of all
decayed estates); and first pitched on the peopling of Florida, then
newly found out, in the West Indies. So confident his ambition, that
he blushed not to tell Queen Elizabeth, 'that he preferred rather to
be sovereign of a mole-hill, than the highest subject to the greatest
king in Christendom;' adding, moreover, 'that he was assured he should
be a prince before his death.' 'I hope,' said Queen Elizabeth, 'I
shall hear from you, when you are stated in your principality.' 'I
will write unto you,' quoth Stuckley. 'In what language?' said the
Queen. He returned, 'In the style of princes: To our dear sister.'
"His fair project of Florida being blasted for lack of money to pursue
it, he went over into Ireland, where he was frustrated of the
preferment he expected, and met such physic that turned his fever into
frenzy; for hereafter resolving treacherously to attempt what he
could not loyally achieve, he went over into Italy.
"It is incredible how quickly he wrought himself through the notice
into the favour, through the court into the chamber, yea closet, yea
bosom of Pope Pius Quintus; so that some wise men thought his Holiness
did forfeit a parcel of his infallibility in giving credit to such a
_glorioso_, vaunting that with three thousand soldiers he would beat
all the English out of Ireland.
"The Pope finding it cheaper to fill Stuckley's swelling sails with
airy titles than real gifts, created him Baron of Ross, Viscount
Murrough, Earl of Wexford, Marquis of Leinster; and then furnished
this title-top-heavy general with eight hundred soldiers, paid by the
King of Spain, for the Irish expedition.
"In passage thereunto, Stuckley lands at Portugal, just when
Sebastian, the king thereof, with two Moorish kings, were undertaking
a voyage into Africa. Stuckley, scorning to attend, is persuaded to
accompany them. Some thought he wholly quitted his Irish design,
partly because loath to be pent up in an island (the continent of
Africa affording more elbow-room for his achievements); partly because
so mutable his mind, he ever loved the last project (as mothers the
youngest child) best. Others conceive he took this African in order to
his Irish design; such his confidence of conquest, that his breakfast
on the Turks would the better enable him to dine on the English in
Ireland.
"Landing in Africa, Stuckley gave council which was safe, seasonable,
and necessary; namely, that for two or three days they should refresh
their land soldiers; whereof some were sick, and some were weak, by
reason of their tempestuous passage. This would not be heard; so
furious was Don Sebastian to engage; as if he would pluck up the bays
of victory out of the ground, before they were grown up; and so, in
the battle of Alcaser, their army was wholly defeated: where Stuckley
lost his life.
'A fatal fight, where in one day was slain,
Three kings that were, and one that would be fain!'
"This battle was fought anno 1578, where Stuckley, with his eight
hundred men, behaved himself most valiantly, till overpowered with
multitude." _Worthies of England_, by Nuttall, i. 414.
Mr. Dyce, in his prefatory note to Peele's _Battle of Alcazar_, having
cited the above extract with several poetical notices of Stukeley,
mentions another play founded on this adventurer's exploits (_The
Famous Historye of the Life and Death of Captaine Thomas Stukely_),
acted in 1596, and printed in 1605 (Peele's _Works_, ii. 85).
The ballad is from _The Crown-Garland of Golden Roses_ (Percy Society,
vol. vi.) p. 33. There are some verses on Stukeley's projected voyage
to Florida in Mr. Collier's _Old Ballads_, in the first volume of the
Percy Society, p. 73.
In the west of England
Borne there was, I understand,
A famous gallant in his dayes,
By birth a wealthy clothier's sonne;
Deeds of wonder he hath done, 5
To purchase him a long and lasting praise.
If I should tell his story,
Pride was all his glory,
And lusty Stukely he was call'd in court;
He serv'd a bishop of the west, 10
And did accompany the best,
Maintaining still himselfe in gallant sort.
Being thus esteemed,
And every where well deemed,
He gain'd the favour of a London dame, 15
Daughter to an alderman,
Curtis he was called then,
To whom a sutor gallantly he came.
When she his person spied,
He could not be denied, 20
So brave a gentleman he was to see;
She was quickly made his wife,
In weale or woe to lead her life,
Her father willingly did so agree.
Thus, in state and pleasure, 25
Full many daies they measure;
Till cruell death, with his regardles spight,
Bore old Curtis to his grave,
A thing which Stukely wisht to have,
That he might revell all in gold so bright. 30
He was no sooner tombed,
But Stukely presumed
To spend a hundred pound that day in waste:
The bravest gallants of the land
Had Stukelies purse at their command; 35
Thus merrily the time away he pass'd.
Taverns and ordinaries
Were his cheefest braveries,[L38]
Goulden angells flew there up and downe;
Riots were his best delight,[L40] 40
With stately feastings day and night;
In court and citty thus he won renowne.
Thus wasting land and living
By this lawlesse giving,
At last he sold the pavements of his yard, 45
Which covered were with blocks of tin;
Old Curtis left the same to him,
Which he consumed vainely, as you heard.
Whereat his wife sore greeved,
Desir'd to be releeved; 50
"Make much of me, dear husband," she did say:
"I'll make much more of thee," quoth he,
"Than any one shall, verily:
I'll sell thy clothes, and so will go away."
Cruelly thus hearted, 55
Away from her he parted,
And travelled into Italy with speed:
There he flourisht many a day
In his silkes and rich array,
And did the pleasures of a lady feed. 60
It was the ladies pleasure
To give him gold and treasure,
And to maintaine him in great pomp and fame;
At last came newes assuredly
Of a battaile fought in Barbary, 65
And he would valiantly go see the same.
Many a noble gallant
Sold both land and talent
To follow Stukely in this famous fight;
Whereas three kings in person would 70
Adventurously, with courage bould,
Within the battaile shew themselves in sight.[L72]
Stukely and his followers all,
Of the king of Portugall
Had entertainement like to gentlemen: 75
The king affected Stukely so,
That he his secrets all did know,
And bore his royall standard now and then.
Upon this day of honour
Each king did shew his banner; 80
Morocco, and the King of Barbery,
Portugall, with all his train,
Bravely glister'd in the plain,
And gave the onset there most valiantly.
The cannons they resounded, 85
Thund'ring drums rebounded,
"Kill, kill!" as then was all the soldiers cry;
Mangled men lay on the ground,
And with blood the earth was dround,
The sun was likewise darken'd in the skye. 90
Heaven was sore displeased,
And would not be appeased,
But tokens of God's heavy wrath did show
That he was angry at this war;
He sent a fearfull blazing star, 95
Whereby these kings might their misfortunes know.
Bloody was this slaughter,
Or rather wilfull murther,
Where six score thousand fighting men were slain;
Three kings within this battaile died, 100
With forty dukes and earles beside,
The like will never more be fought again.
With woful armes enfoulding,
Stukely stood beholding
This bloody sacrifice of soules that day: 105
He, sighing, said, "I, wofull wight,
Against my conscience heere did fight,
And brought my followers all unto decay."
Being thus molested,
And with greefes oppressed, 110
Those brave Italians that did sell their lands,
With Stukely thus to travel forth,
And venture life for little worth,
Upon him all did lay their murthering hands.
Unto death thus wounded, 115
His heart with sorrow swounded,
And to them all he made this heavy mone:
"Thus have I left my country deere,
To be so vilely murthered heere,
Even in this place whereas I am not known. 120
"My life I have much wronged;
Of what to her belonged
I vainely spent in idle course of life.
What I have done is past, I see,
And bringeth nought but greef to me, 125
Therefore grant now thy pardon, gentle wife!
"Life, I see, consumeth,
And death, I feel, presumeth
To change this life of mine into a new:
Yet this me greatest comfort brings, 130
I liv'd and died in love of kings,
And so brave Stukely bids the world adew."
Stukelys life thus ended,
Was after death befrended,
And like a soldier buried gallantly; 135
Where now there stands upon his grave
A stately temple, builded brave,
With golden turrets piercing in the skye.
38, 40 where.
72. fight.
LORD DELAWARE.
No plausible foundation for this ballad has as yet been found in
history. It has been suggested that Delaware is a corruption of De la
Mare, a speaker of the House of Commons, and a great advocate of
popular rights, in the reign of Edward the Third! But there is no
accounting for the Dutch lord and the Welsh Duke of Devonshire on this
or any other supposition.
The ballad is given from Lyle's _Ancient Ballads and Songs_, p. 135,
as "noted down from the singing of a gentleman," and then "remodelled
and smoothed down" by the editor. The same copy is printed in Dixon's
_Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs_ (Percy Society, vol. xvii.), p. 80,
and in Bell's volume with the same title, p. 66.
In the Parliament House,
A great rout has been there,
Betwixt our good king
And the Lord Delaware:
Says Lord Delaware 5
To his Majesty full soon,
"Will it please you, my Liege,
To grant me a boon?"
"What's your boon?" says the King,
"Now let me understand." 10
"It's, give me all the poor men
We've starving in this land;
And without delay, I'll hie me
To Lincolnshire,
To sow hemp-seed and flax-seed, 15
And hang them all there.