Bacon•HISTORIA REGNI HENRICI SEPTIMI REGIS ANGLIAE
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II. SECUTUM est hoc anno, qui erat regis secundus, mirum quoddam facinus et audacia plenum, quodque statum regis et regni vehementer perturbavit. De quo narrationes quas in manibus habemus adeo nudae sunt et ieiunae ut rem relinquant vix credibilem, non tam ob eventus naturam (eiusmodo enim accidentia in rerum memoria non raro reperiuntur), sed propter peculiares quasdam rei circumstantias, praesertim sub initiis. Iudicium igitur faciemus de hoc negotio ex rebus ipsis, quatenus sibi invicem lucem praebeat, veritatem tanquam ex minera effodientes.
2. there followed in this year, which was the king’s second, a certain wondrous deed, full of audacity, and one which vehemently perturbed the state of the king and of the realm. About it the narratives which we have at hand are so bare and jejune that they leave the matter scarcely credible—not so much on account of the nature of the event (for accidents of such a sort are not infrequently found in the record of things) as because of certain peculiar circumstances of the affair, especially at the outset. We shall therefore make a judgment about this business from the things themselves, insofar as they may give light to one another, digging out the truth as from a mine.
The king was new in his kingdom, and, contrary to his own expectation and even his desert, he was the object of great envy and hatred among the people. The root of this envy was plainly his assiduous and continual depression of the House of York, which the body of the whole realm still pursued with favor. This turned the minds of the people day by day more and more away from the king, especially when they saw that the king, after his marriage and a son born from that marriage, had nonetheless still deferred the coronation of his queen (which, united with his own coronation, had by all at first been expected), not deigning her even the honor of the matrimonial crown.
Nor indeed did the coronation of the queen follow, except after two years, after, namely, the perils had served the king as precepts, instructing him what he ought to do. But the ill-will gained much more strength after the rumor had grown loud (whether flying about by chance or scattered by the malice of ill-disposed men) that the king had resolved to kill Edward Plantagenet clandestinely in the Tower of London. Whose case had so much likeness with the case of the children of King Edward, since the propinquity of his blood, the equal age, and the very place—the Tower—rubbed again the memory of that cruelty, that it stirred up against the king a certain most odious opinion and report, and he himself would have been another King Richard.
Nor was that murmur yet lulled, namely that at least one of King Edward’s sons was still surviving. That rumor indeed was artfully and covertly fostered by those who were zealous for novelties (revolutionary changes). Nor, in the king’s ingenium and morals, was there anything apt for dissipating obscurities of that sort.
2. In Oxonia vivebat sacerdos quidam astutus et vafer, Richardus Simon vocatus, cui erat pupillus, pistoris filius, dictus Lambertus Simnellus, aetatis circiter quindecim annorum, puer quasi venerabilis, multum in ore at aspectu prae se ferens maiestatis et decoris. Sacerdos iste in cogitationem quandam malesanam incidit (dum sermones hominum avide imbiberet, et in episcopatum aliquem amplum se promotum iri speraret) ut adolescentulum illum ad filii secundi regis Edwardi (de quo opinio erat eum in turri fuisse trucidatum) personam induendam et similandum subornaret, et paulo post (nam inter rem agendam consilium suum quatenus ad personam mutavit) ad Edwardi Plantagenistae, tum in turri detenti, personam repraesentandam, et in omnibus quae ad fidem faciendam conducerent eum egregie instruxit. Hoc erat illud incredibile de quo prius diximus: non quod fictarum personarum ludibria ad regnum adipiscendum subornarentur (etenim temporibus antiquis et recentioribus hoc interdum contigerat), neque quod in mentem venire potuisset homini tam vili et abiecto ut tantam rem susciperet et amplecteretur (etenim magnae cogitationes et sublimes quandoque in infimae conditionis homines influunt, praesertim quando inebriati fuerint vulgi sermonibus), sed hoc (inquam) illud est, quod minime videtur probabile, sacerdotem istum, cui omnino ignota erat persona vera ad cuius exemplar persona falsa efformanda essent, ullo modo in animum inducere potuisse ut actorem fabulae suae edocere speraret, vel gestu externo vel in praeteritis vitae suae et educationis actis et accidentibus recensendis, vel in idoneis responsis ad quaestiones quas verisimile erat ei propositas fore, vel similibus, ulla ex parte ad vividum imaginem eius quem personandum susceperat commode exprimere.
2. In Oxford there lived a certain astute and wily priest, called Richard Simon, who had a ward, a baker’s son, named Lambert Simnel, about fifteen years of age, a boy as it were venerable, bearing much of majesty and decorum in his mouth and aspect. This priest fell into a certain ill-sane notion (while he greedily imbibed men’s talk, and hoped that he would be promoted to some ample bishopric) to suborn that adolescent to don and counterfeit the person of the second son of King Edward (of whom the opinion was that he had been butchered in the Tower), and a little later (for in the course of the deed he changed his plan so far as concerned the person) to represent the person of Edward Plantagenet, then detained in the Tower, and in all things which would conduce to making belief he excellently instructed him. This was that incredible thing of which we spoke before: not that the mockeries of feigned persons should be suborned for obtaining a kingdom (for in ancient and in more recent times this had sometimes happened), nor that it could have come into the mind of a man so base and abject to undertake and embrace so great a matter (for great and sublime thoughts sometimes flow into men of the lowest condition, especially when they have been inebriated with the talk of the crowd), but this, I say, is that which seems least probable: that that priest, to whom the true person was altogether unknown on whose exemplar the false person ought to be shaped, could in any way have induced himself to hope to teach the actor of his play to express suitably, in any part, a vivid image of him whom he had undertaken to impersonate—whether by external gesture, or by recounting the past acts and incidents of his life and education, or by suitable answers to questions which it was likely would be proposed to him, or the like.
For indeed it did not befall that boy to personate one who had long before been snatched from the cradle or carried off in earliest infancy, but rather an adolescent such as had been continuously brought up in the royal court until about the age of ten, where innumerable eyes would have beheld him. For King Edward, stung by the conscience of the slaughter of his brother, the Duke of Clarence, was certainly unwilling to restore his son (of whom we now speak) in full so that he should be Duke of Clarence; yet he created him Earl of Warwick, the honor which pertained to him on his mother’s side having been resuscitated, and, while he lived, he treated him very honorably, although Richard III afterward held him in custody. To such an extent that it plainly could not have come to pass but that some person of the more eminent, to whom Edward Plantagenet would have been particularly and familiarly known, should preside over the business, from whom the priest would receive his mandates.
But what is most probable (if one rightly estimates the matter from the antecedent and subsequent acts) comes back to this: that the person to be set as the one who warped and wove that web was the queen dowager, a negotiating and pragmatic woman, and one unaccustomed to handling civil affairs. Assuredly, in her chamber that felicitous conspiracy against Richard III on behalf of King Henry was initiated, transacted, and prosecuted (which the king knew full well and perhaps had laid away too deep). She also at that time was most hostile to the king, on the ground that she thought her daughter (by the path on which the king was insisting) not promoted but depressed. And no one, doubtless, with so great a knowledge of the facts, could equip and stage that whole scene as well as she.
Nor yet was it his design, nor even that of the rest among the more prudent who favored this machination and supplied forces to it, that that idol-figurehead should in truth obtain the crown, but by its danger to open a way to the king’s ruin. When this was accomplished, each man fostered different hopes and counsels within. This conjecture is most strongly supported by the fact that, as soon as that conspiracy had ripened and burst forth, the king was so affected that he suddenly shut up that queen in the monastery of Bermondsey, and applied all her fortunes and revenues to the fisc; and he ordained this through a council and a certain convention held with closed doors, without any legal process, employing a very slight and far-fetched pretext, namely, that she had delivered her daughters out of sanctuary into the power of King Richard contrary to her promise. From which mode of proceeding—accounted from the outset as too severe and plainly irregular, both as to matter and as to form—it may very probably be concluded that grave accusations had been brought forth against that queen, which the king, for reasons of state and to avoid public odium, was unwilling to publish.
Not a light indication, too, that some secret had lain hidden, and that examinations had been suppressed and restrained, was this: that the priest Simon, after he had been apprehended for punishment, was never produced openly to his execution—indeed, nor even brought into a public judgment (as befell several from the clergy for treasons less atrocious)—but only remained incarcerated in a certain hovel. In addition, after the death of the Earl of Lincoln (a principal man of the Yorkist family), who had been slain in the battle of Stoke, the king disclosed this secret of his breast to certain of his councillors: that he took the earl’s death hard, because from him, if he had lived, he could have learned the innermost particulars of his own peril and of the conspiracy made against him.
3. Verum ut ad narrationem rei ipsius revertamur, primo Simon, ut diximus, discipulum suum edocuit personam Richardi ducis Eboracensis imitari. Hoc vero factum est sub idem tempus quo fama illa sparsa est quod rex constituerat Edwardum Plantagenistam, tum in turri detentum, neci tradere. Quo divulgato, magnum secutum est populi murmur.
3. But to return to the narration of the matter itself, first Simon, as we have said, instructed his disciple to imitate the persona of Richard, Duke of York. This, indeed, was done at the same time when that rumor was spread that the king had determined to hand over Edward Plantagenet, then detained in the Tower, to death. When this was divulged, a great murmur of the people followed.
But not long after, with a different rumor breaking in—namely that that Edward the Plantagenet had escaped from the Tower—and at the same time this shrewd priest, hearing that he had been so dear to the common people, and that so great joy had been conceived at the averting of his danger, changed the persona of his mask, and transformed it into the persona of the Plantagenet as the more fitting one, since he was more on the lips of the people and then especially bandied about in talk. At the same time it was more congruous that, after the rumor of Edward’s flight, that which he was contriving should follow upon it. Yet, when he considered with himself that it would be less safe for him, and more exposed to men’s curiosity and inquisition, if he acted out that fable here in England, he thought it would be more advisable if, after the manner of stage-scenes in tragedies and the like, he should display the affair more from afar.
And so he crossed over with his disciple to Ireland, where favor toward the House of York was seething in very great measure. The king, to be sure, had been less energetic and provident in establishing the affairs of Ireland, nor had he changed the magistrates and his counselors in that kingdom, or intermixed with the rest others approved by himself and faithful, as he ought to have done—especially since he well knew the inclination of that people toward the House of York, and how slippery the condition of that kingdom was, and much more prone than England to embrace innovations. But trusting in his victories and successes in England, he did not at all doubt that, at leisure, he would reduce the affairs of Ireland into order.
4. Quamobrem hac regis socordia factum est, ut sub adventum Simonus cum falso suo Plantagenista in Hiberniam omnia ad defectionem et seditionem parata invenirentur, ac si ex composito fere res transacta fuisset. Primo omnium adiit Simon Thomam Fitz-Gerardum comitem Kildariae et Hiberniae tum praesidem, cuius oculos tanta caligine perstrinxit (partim sermonum suorum vi et insinuatione, partim habitu et gestu pupilli sui, cuius etiam ori maiestas quaedam regia insidebat), ut illecebrae illae, fumis fortasse quibusdam ambitionis adiutae, ita comitem affecerint, ut persuasissimum ei esset verum prorsus illum Plantagenistam fuisse. Comes negotium statim communicavit cum proceribus nonnullis et aliis, primo quidem occulto.
4. Wherefore by this sloth of the king it came about that, upon the arrival of Simon with his false Plantagenet into Ireland, all things were found prepared for defection and sedition, as if the affair had almost been carried through by prearrangement. First of all Simon approached Thomas FitzGerald, Earl of Kildare and then governor of Ireland, whose eyes he bedimmed with so great a mist (partly by the force and insinuation of his speeches, partly by the habit and gesture of his ward, upon whose very face there sat a certain royal majesty) that those allurements, perhaps aided by certain fumes of ambition, so affected the earl that he was most fully persuaded that he was truly that Plantagenet. The earl at once communicated the business to some magnates and others, at first indeed in secret.
Perceiving, moreover, that they were similarly affected with himself, he deliberately permitted the matter to go out into the public and to be spread, fearing to lay open what he had destined before he had tested the minds of the people. But if the more powerful acted eagerly, assuredly the plebs acted furiously, receiving that airy phantasm with incredible joy and favor, partly because they were most inclined toward the Yorkist family, partly from the pride of the nation itself, that they might seem to have given and imposed a king of England upon the realm. Nor indeed did that scruple about the condemnation of George, Duke of Clarence, father of this Edward, avail anything with them, since they had recently learned from the example of King Henry that those legal condemnations in no way hinder title and pretension to the summit of the crown.
As to the daughters of Edward IV, they readily leaned upon the rebuff which they had suffered, having been removed by King Richard from the inheritance of the kingdom, and they even estimated them as a certain portion of Henry’s faction, since they were altogether in his hand. So much so that, with marvelous consensus and applause, and with a great concourse of all orders, this fictitious Plantagenet had been brought to Dublin Castle, and there, as though a king, was saluted, attended, and honored, the boy comporting himself with sufficient decorum and committing nothing that would argue the ignobility of his stock. Nay rather, a few days having elapsed, he was proclaimed king by the name of Edward VI, with not even a single sword drawn for the cause of King Henry.
5. Rex, nunciis perlatis de rebellione ista tam repentina et inexpectata, plurimum commotus est duas praecipus ob causas: prima erat quod motus iste illud tentabat a quo sibi maxime metuebat, tituli scilicet Eboracensis familiae resuscitationem; secunda, quod motus idem contigerat tali loco quo tuto personam suam transferre non poterat. Nam partim ex fortitudine innata, partim ex suspicione quadam universali (nescius et haesitans cui fidere secure posset) personal suam propriam ad omnes motus reprimendos tranferrre amabat. Rex igitur concilium suum convocavit apud coenobium Carthusianorum ad Shinam.
5. The king, when the messages had been delivered about that rebellion so sudden and unexpected, was very greatly moved for two principal causes: the first was that this commotion aimed at that which he most feared for himself, namely the resuscitation of the title of the Yorkist family; the second, that the same commotion had occurred in such a place to which he could not safely transfer his person. For partly from innate fortitude, partly from a certain universal suspicion (not knowing and hesitating whom he might trust securely), he loved to transfer his own person to repress all commotions. The king therefore convoked his council at the Carthusian monastery at Sheen.
6. Primum erat ut regina vidua (sicut antea obiter dictum est) eo quod contra pactum et fidem suam iis praestitam, qui cum ea de matrimonio filiae suae Elizabethae cum Henrico ineundo contraxerant, eam nihilominus ex asylo in manus regis Richardi tradidisset, coenobio monialium de Bermondsey includeretur, utque fortunae et reditus eius omnes fisco cederent.
6. The first was that the widowed queen (as was said before in passing), because, contrary to the pact and to the faith by her pledged to those who had contracted with her about entering into the matrimony of her daughter Elizabeth with Henry, she had nonetheless delivered her out of asylum into the hands of King Richard, should be enclosed in the convent of nuns at Bermondsey, and that all her fortunes and revenues should cede to the fisc.
7. Secundum erat ut Edwardus Plantagenista, tunc temporis in custodia turris arcta habitus, modis omnibus qui excogitari poterant maxime publicis et notoriis publico monstraretur. Hoc eo spectabat, partim ut rex illa quam apud populum subierat invidia exoneraretur de nece clandestina Edwardi, sed praecipue ut omnibus liquido detegerentur eorum quae in Hibernia acta sunt levitas et impostura, quodque revera Plantagenista quem colebant idolum et res fictitia tantummodo esset.
7. The second was that Edward the Plantagenist, then at that time kept in close custody in the Tower, should be shown to the public by every means that could be devised, especially the most public and notorious. This aimed partly that the king might be relieved of that odium which he had incurred among the people for the clandestine slaying of Edward, but chiefly that the levity and imposture of the things done in Ireland might be plainly laid bare to all, and that in very truth the Plantagenist whom they worshipped was merely an idol and a fictitious thing.
8. Tertium erat ut denuo publicaretur remissio generalis anteactorum iis qui intra diem praefixum delicta sua revelare vellent, et se regiae clementiae submitterent; utque diploma remissionis verbis tam largis et amplis perscriberetur ut nullum prorsus genus altae proditionis (vel in regis ipsius personam) exciperetur. Quod licet mirum videri posset, attamen regi prudenti et sagaci probabatur, qui satis sciret maxima sibi pericula non a proditionibus levioribus, sed ab atrocioribus imminere. Ista vero regis et concilii sui decreta statim executioni mandata sunt.
8. The third was that the general remission of past deeds be published anew to those who within the fixed day would be willing to reveal their offenses and to submit themselves to royal clemency; and that the diploma of remission be prescribed in words so large and ample that absolutely no kind of high treason (even against the king’s own person) was excepted. Which, although it might seem strange, was nevertheless approved by a prudent and sagacious king, who knew well that the greatest dangers for himself threatened not from lighter treasons, but from the more atrocious. And these decrees of the king and his council were forthwith committed to execution.
And at first the dowager queen was confined in a monastery of nuns at Bermondsey and stripped of all her fortunes. This seemed a remarkable thing to the people: that a weak and calamity‑stricken woman, because she had succumbed to the tyrant’s threats and promises, and that too after so great a span of time had elapsed (during which the king had shown no sign of offense or of an embittered spirit), but much more after so happy a marriage between the king and her daughter, with male issue born, should be treated with such severity by the king, either so suddenly changed or so tardily laying open his sentiments.
9. Regina ista inter exempla fortunae insigniter inconstantis, et adversa cum prosperis saepe alternantis, reponi possit. Primo a supplice afflicta et viduata assumpta est in thorum regis, regis inquam coelibis quique inter viros aetatis suae fuerat pulcherrimus. Etiam in ipso regni Edwardi curriculo miseram subierat fortunae aleam et felicitatis suae eclipsim ex fuga regis et coronae suae amissione temporaria.
9. That queen could be set among the exempla of Fortune conspicuously inconstant, and often alternating the adverse with the prosperous. First, from a suppliant, afflicted and widowed, she was assumed into the king’s bed—of the king, I say, a bachelor, and who among the men of his age had been the most handsome. Even in the very course of Edward’s reign she underwent the wretched hazard of Fortune and an eclipse of her felicity, from the king’s flight and the temporary loss of his crown.
Moreover, on that score she could be deemed fortunate, in that she bore to him a most beautiful progeny with outstanding fecundity, and she retained his marital love to the end (aided somewhat by patience and obsequy and by the dissimulation of the king’s amours). She was inclined toward her kinsfolk and those joined by proximity of blood, even to the point of faction; which thing had kindled great ill-will against her among the magnates on the king’s side, who judged that royal blood was, as it were, polluted by that admixture. To these magnates of royal blood Lord Hastings had attached himself, flourishing in great favor with the king; who, although he was so dear to the king, was thought at times to have lived under the malice and arts of this queen, not without the peril of ruin.
After the death of the king, her husband, she was made, as it were, the subject of a tragedy, since she prolonged life so far as to see her brother’s head amputated, both her sons deprived of the kingdom, declared spurious, and cruelly slain. Yet amid such bitter calamities she enjoyed her liberty, her dignity, and her fortunes. But at length thereafter, the wheel having turned somewhat to prosperous things, when she had gotten the king for a son-in-law and had become grandmother of a grandson, nonetheless (for causes obscure and unknown, and under pretexts no less astonishing) she was cast headlong and went into exile from the world, shut up in a monastery, where it was almost perilous to visit her.
10. Sub idem tempus Edwardus Plantagenista verus in die dominico per universas Londini plateas principales ductus est ut a populo spectaretur. Et post spectaculum populi in plateis, solenni processione templum D. Pauli ingressus est, ubi et frequens provisum est, ut complures ex nobilitate et alii gradus eminentioris (maxime ex iis qui regi suspecti essent, quique speciem et personam Plantagenistae optime nossent) sermones cum adolescente inter eundum familiariter conferrent. Atque hoc regis prudentissimum remedium malum illud Hiberniae plane discussit apud populum Angliae, praesertim illud Hiberniae partem quae errore non malitia toxicum illud hauserat.
10. At the same time the true Edward Plantagenet on the Lord’s Day was led through all the principal streets of London so that he might be looked at by the people. And after the people’s spectacle in the streets, with a solemn procession he entered the church of St. Paul, where also, in a crowded gathering, it was arranged that many of the nobility and others of more eminent rank (especially of those who were suspected by the king, and who knew best the appearance and person of the Plantagenet) should converse familiarly with the adolescent as they went along. And this most prudent remedy of the king thoroughly dispelled that Irish evil among the people of England, especially that part of Ireland which had imbibed that toxin through error, not through malice.
In Ireland, however, where, with the crime grown to such a pitch, no retreat was afforded from it, it availed little or nothing, and rumors were sowing that the king, in order to drive out the true heir of the kingdom and put a gloss upon the world and fascinate the eyes of unskilled men, had adorned a supposititious youth in the likeness of Edward Plantagenet and had shown him to the people, not abstaining even from the sacred rites of procession, so as to procure the greater credence for the tale. About the same time as well an edict of general remission was promulgated. At the same time the king also applied much diligence that the ports of the kingdom be closed, lest fugitives hostile or suspect to the present affairs should cross the sea into Ireland or Flanders.
11. Interim rebelles Hiberniae nuncios tam in Angliam quam Flandriam clam miserant qui utribique loci res haud parvi momenti transegerant. In Anglia enim in partes suas pertraxerunt Ioannem comitem Lincolniae, Ioannis Poli ducis Suffolci filium ex Elizabetha Edwardi Quarti sorore. Comes iste spiritus altos et elatos gerebant, simulque strenuus erat et ingenio pollens, et sublimibus iampridem cogitationibus insueverat.
11. Meanwhile the rebels of Ireland had secretly sent messengers both into England and into Flanders, who in both places had transacted affairs of no small moment. For in England they drew over to their party John, Earl of Lincoln, the son of John de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk, by Elizabeth, sister of Edward IV. This earl bore a high and exalted spirit, and was at once strenuous and abounding in ingenuity, and had long since been accustomed to sublime designs.
For Richard the Third it had been determined, by hatred of each of his brothers (King Edward and the Duke of Clarence) and of their stock (since, to wit, he had steeped his hands in the blood of both), to deprive their posterity, under various and false pretexts (of which we have spoken before), of succession to the kingdom, and to designate that earl (if he himself should depart without children) as king. Nor had this escaped the king, who for that reason was secretly observing his actions. But since he had already tasted the people’s ill-will on account of the incarceration of Edward Plantagenet, he did not think it prudent to accumulate such ill-will by the incarceration of the Earl of Lincoln.
Nay, he even thought it conducive to his own affairs to conserve him as a rival to another. But the Earl of Lincoln was moved to become a participant in the rebellion of Ireland, not because he lightly relied on the things that had been done there—evanescent after the fashion of a fragile bubble—but upon letters received from Margaret of Burgundy, in whose auxiliary succors, and in her very declaration that she had descended into their party, there was far more weight, both as to reputation and as to the very forces. Nor did the earl repudiate the business because he knew that the pretended Plantagenet was a mere idol and nothing more; rather, he rejoiced that he was a false rather than a true Plantagenet, because—since he well knew that a false Plantagenet would of his own accord pass away into smoke, but a true one would be ruined by the king’s counsels—he reckoned with himself that an access for himself to the kingdom by his own title and right could be opened.
Revolving these things in his mind, he secretly crossed over into Flanders, where a little before Lord Lovell had made landfall, who had left in England, as the procurator of his counsels, Thomas Broughton, a knight, who in the county of Lancashire had great clienteles and many followers. For a little before (as we said above), when the pretended Plantagenet had first been received into Ireland, clandestine messengers had been sent to Margaret, making her more certain about the things already done in Ireland, imploring her aid in a cause (as they themselves said) so pious and just, and to whose beginnings God had so manifestly been present, with promises and a protestation that all things thereafter would be committed to her arbitration, as to the supreme patroness and protectress of that action. Margaret was the second sister of Edward IV, and also the second wife of Charles, duke of Burgundy, surnamed the Bold.
Since she had received no children from him, she expended great care, with a distinguished affection of benevolence, upon the education of Philip and Margaret (the grandchildren of her former husband); which procured for her great love and authority among the Belgians. This princess, endowed with a manly spirit, but with feminine malice, and abounding in no scanty treasures on account of the amplitude of her dowry and its provident dispensation, herself childless and almost released from other cares, had proposed to herself as the end of her counsels to see her family again placed upon the royal throne of England. And she had set up Henry as the mark, toward whose ruin all her actions should tend and be collimated.
To such a degree that from her counsels (as if from a quiver) tumults, aroused over many years, were launched against the king. And she burned with so great a hatred against the family of Lancaster, and especially against the king in his own person, that it was by no means mitigated by the so honorable a conjunction of the families in her granddaughter, but on the contrary, she even held her own granddaughter in hatred because by her marriage she had opened an approach for the king to attaining the kingdom and establishing it upon himself. Therefore, with a great and vehement impetus of spirit, she seized the opportunity offered by the rebels, and assented to their demands.
And, counsel having been held with the Earl of Lincoln and Lord Lovell and others, it was decreed that those two nobles, with a cohort of two thousand Germans (who were all veterans) under the leadership of Martin Swart (a strong leader and experienced in soldiery), should betake themselves into Ireland to the new king. For they were in great hope that, when that action had assumed the appearance of a royalty plainly constituted and fixed, and the reputation had been augmented both by the Earl of Lincoln as, so to speak, a second person, and by foreign forces sent in for aid, the fame of these things would add spirit to those who in England favored their party, so that they would be ready with auxiliaries at the time when the army was transported into England. Moreover, it was also decreed that, if the affair should succeed, that supposititious Plantagenet would be deposed and the true one received.
In which, however, period of the action the earl of Lincoln was fostering his private hopes. After these forces had come out of Flanders into Ireland, and their party’s confidence, from mutual sight, and the aspect of a regular army now drawn into one body, had marvellously grown, being in no way doubtful about success they promised themselves great things, and in talks and colloquies among themselves they boasted that they were setting forth, equipped with forces much greater, to subvert the kingdom of Henry than the same Henry had employed to subvert King Richard’s kingdom. And that if no sword were drawn against them in Ireland, a conjecture could rightly be taken from this that the swords in England too would soon either be lodged in their sheaths or repulsed.
At first, however, with a certain vaunting on account of such great accessions of forces, they crowned their new king in the cathedral church of Dublin, who previously had been declared king by proclamation only. Then indeed they held a council concerning those things which were further to be done. In which council, although some thought it would be most consultive to establish matters first in Ireland and to choose that region as the seat of war, and thereby to draw King Henry himself, compelled by the necessity of war, into it (from whose absence they hoped no small disturbances and changes in England would follow), nonetheless, because the kingdom of Ireland was laboring under want, so that they could by no means feed the army and pay stipends to the German soldiers, and because also the zeal and votes of the Irish and, generally, of the soldiery (who, in a tumultuary state of affairs, are wont rather to rule their leaders than to be ruled by them) were being borne with great impetuosity and much greed to enrich themselves with the spoils of the kingdom of England, the resolution was carried that they should transfer their forces into England with all the speed that could be made.
Meanwhile the king, who, when first he had heard what had been done in Ireland, was not much moved, but hoped that with no trouble he would scatter the Irish forces (as a flock of birds) with the cast of a stone, and drive off that swarm of bees with their king as it were by ringing and cymbals. When afterwards he had been informed for certain that the earl of Lincoln had joined himself to the party and that Duchess Margaret presided over the faction, he began truly to estimate the danger, and, as things seen with the eyes, he foresaw that his kingdom would again come into peril, and that it would be necessary for him again to fight for it. And at first, before he had heard that the earl of Lincoln had set out from Flanders to Ireland, he conjectured that he would be assailed from two parts of the realm at once, namely, by an invasion made on the eastern quarter of England by forces from Flanders, and on the western quarter toward the north by forces from Ireland.
Therefore, after he had commanded that levies of soldiers be held in both parts, and had appointed two strategoi, Jasper, Duke of Bedford, and John, Earl of Oxford (having in mind also to be present in his own person where occasions most required his presence), yet expecting at that very time no invasion (since winter was already advanced), he set his journey toward Suffolk and Norfolk, to confirm those provinces. But after he had come to St. Edmund’s Bury, he learned that Thomas, Marquess of Dorset (who had been one of the hostages in France) was hastening to him to purge himself of certain accusations brought against him. But although the king reserved a kindly ear for him, nevertheless the condition of the time was so perilous that he immediately sent the Earl of Oxford, who, having met him, was to conduct him to the Tower of London.
Nevertheless he soothed him with gracious words, and requested that he not bear that ignominy with distress, since no danger from the king threatened him. Nay, even that this measure would be a safeguard to him, so that he could harm neither the king’s affairs nor his own fortunes in any way, and that it would always be in the king’s hand (after he had purged himself of those things of which he was accused) to repair his honor.
12. A Burgo Sancti Edmundi ad civitatem Norwici perrexit. Inde tanquam in peregrinatione quadam sacra Walsinghamiae templum, virgini Mariae dicatum et multis miraculis celebre, visitavit, et vota pro salute sua nuncupavit. Atque inde per Cantabrigiam Londinum reversus est.
12. From the Borough of Saint Edmund he proceeded to the city of Norwich. Thence, as if on a certain sacred pilgrimage, he visited the temple of Walsingham, dedicated to the Virgin Mary and celebrated for many miracles, and declared vows for his safety. And from there, by way of Cambridge, he returned to London.
After a few days the Irish rebels with their king (under the leadership of the Earl of Lincoln, the Earl of Kildare, Lord Lovell, and Swart, commander of the cohort) made landfall at Fouldria in the county of Lancashire. To them straightway betook himself Thomas Broughton, a knight of the golden spur, with a very small band of Englishmen. The king, by this now certain that that storm would not be dispersed, but would fall upon one place, had assembled forces quite ample; and he himself, having taken along also the two strategists whom he had selected (namely the Duke of Bedford and the Earl of Oxford), had come as far as Coventry, intending to join battle with them.
Whence he sent out a troop of horse to explore the enemy’s affairs, and so that at the same time he might intercept some from their army who were straggling, from whom he could better learn both their progress and their counsels. Which also was done, although in the rebels’ army itself scouts were not lacking.
13. Rebelles versus Eboracum iter ceperunt, vastatione agrorum et alia violentia hostili abstinentes ut melius in gratiam populi se insinuarent, et regis sui decore tuerentur. Qui scilicet ex vero sensu animi regii calamitatibus subditorum indoleret. Verum globulus iste nivalis inter volvendum augmenta nulla suscipiebat.
13. The rebels took the road toward York, abstaining from the devastation of fields and from other hostile violence, so that they might insinuate themselves the better into the favor of the people, and uphold the decorum of their king—who, to wit, from a true sentiment of a royal mind would grieve at the calamities of his subjects. But this little snowball, in the rolling, was receiving no increases.
For the people had not flocked to them from any quarter, nor yet in other parts of the realm was any movement made in their favor. The cause of this was partly the proof already exhibited by the king of his moderate regimen, conjoined with an opinion of felicity, partly that it was a very odious thing to the people of England to accept a king borne on the shoulders of Irish and Germans, carried and brought in by them, from which nations the greatest part of the rebel forces had been compounded. Nor was it done quite prudently by the rebels themselves, that they first led their army into the northern parts.
For although in former times those regions had been nurturers of their partisans, yet in those same places the army of Lord Lovell had been dispersed, and there the king himself had a little before, by his presence, mollified the spirits of the people. But the earl of Lincoln, disappointed in his hope (for he had promised himself that the people would flock to him in emulous haste, in which case he had it in mind to protract the war), and being well aware that the affair was now without recall, had resolved to engage with the king’s forces with what celerity he could. And so he led the army toward the town of Newark, hoping that at his sudden arrival he would reduce the town into his power.
Soon before, however, the king had come to Nottingham, where he convened a camp council. In it it was deliberated whether it was proper to prolong the time or to assail the enemies at once. In which council the king himself (who was revolving many suspicions in his mind of which no one was conscious) was manifestly inclined to that opinion, that they should decide the issue by battle as soon as possible.
14. Principales autem personae quae tum in regis auxilium advolarunt fuerunt ex nobilitate quidem comes Salopiae et dominus Strange, ex equitibus autem et nobilibus minoribus ad septuaginta homines cum cohortibus suis numerum sex mille armatorum implentibus praeter copias quae regi ante eorum adventum praesto fuerant. Quocirca rex cum cerneret copias suas in tantum auctas magnamque in omnibus ad pugnam alacritatem, in eo quod prius decreverat confirmatior erat, atque propere exercitum duxit ita ut inter castra hostium et oppidum Newarci se medium sisteret, nolens eorum exercitum illius oppidi commoditate gaudere. Comes neutiquam territus eo ipso die ad pagum quendam Stoke dictum perrexit, ibique illa nocte castrametatus est super clivum cuiusdam colliculi.
14. The principal persons who then flew to the king’s aid were, from the nobility, indeed the Earl of Shrewsbury and Lord Strange, and from the knights and lesser nobles about seventy men with their own cohorts, making up the number of 6,000 armed men, besides the forces that had been at the king’s disposal before their arrival. Wherefore, when the king saw his forces thus increased and great alacrity in all for battle, he was the more confirmed in what he had previously decreed, and he led the army swiftly so that he set himself in the midst between the enemy camp and the town of Newark, unwilling that their army should enjoy the convenience of that town. The earl, by no means dismayed, on that very day proceeded to a certain village called Stoke, and there that night encamped upon the slope of a certain little hill.
But on the following day the king drew up his battle line on the plain. The earl, no less boldly, descended from the hill and joined battle with him. Of this battle, indeed, the narratives that now exist are so meager and bare (though the matter was of such recent memory) that they declare rather the outcome of the battle than the manner of the fight.
They say the king divided his forces into three battle-lines, of which only the first line, with the wings on both sides well reinforced, had actually fought and had sustained the whole onslaught of the hostile army. The battle was atrocious and obstinate, and lasted for three hours before the victory inclined to either side—save that, since only the king’s first line had fought (the two remaining lines, as it were, standing idle), a judgment could be made as to what outcome of the battle was to be expected in the end; that Martin Swart with his Germans performed excellently; likewise the English; nor did the Irish fail in duty, in spirit or ferocity; but since they were almost unarmed, equipped only with javelins and swords, upon them it was rather slaughter than battle, so that their furious butchery was a great terror to the rest of the army; moreover all the leaders fell in the line, namely the Earl of Lincoln, the Earl of Kildare, Francis Lord Lovell, Martin Swart, and Thomas Broughton, all fighting bravely and neither turning their backs nor retreating. Only about Lovell did a report go out, that he fled from the battle and swam across the river Trent on horseback, but he could not climb the opposite shore because of the steepness of the bank, whence he was drowned in the river.
But another report does not leave him in the river, but relates that long afterwards he prolonged his life in a certain subterranean cavern. The number of the slain on the enemy’s side was at least four thousand. On the king’s side, of the first battle-line about one half fell, besides many wounded, but men of lower condition.
Among the other captives were that supposititious Plantagenist (made Lambert Simnel again), and together with him that wily priest, his pedagogue. As for Lambert, the king was unwilling to deprive him of life, whether out of magnanimity, judging him to have been only like a waxen image which others had tempered and fashioned, or out of a certain high prudence, thinking that, if he were punished with the head, he would pass too quickly into oblivion; but if he remained among the living, he would be a constant spectacle and, as it were, a remedy or exorcism against such specters and incantations in times to come. And so he was received into the king’s service in his own court, but in a very low station in the kitchen.
To such a degree that, by a conspicuous mockery of human fortune, he who had borne the crown turned the spit (although Fortune after a tragedy is by no means accustomed to introduce a comedy or an exodium). Afterwards, however, he was promoted to be one of the king’s falconers. As for the priest, he was shut up in a certain dark hovel, and it did not become known what was afterwards done about him, since it was deeply implanted in the king’s nature to seal up his own perils, as it were, under a seal.
15. Post praelium profectus est rex Lincolniam, ubi preces solennes et gratiarum actiones celebrari fecit pro salute sua et victoria. Utque devotiones eius plenum suum circulum complerent, misit vexillum suum ad templum beatae virginis Walsinghamiae in oblationem, ibi vota solvens ubi nuncupasset. Atque hoc modo ab ista tam insigni fortunae machina (quae in eum intentata fuerat) liberatus ad pristinam animi confidentiam rediit, secum cogitans universa sua infortunia simul in eum irruisse.
15. After the battle the king set out for Lincoln, where he caused solemn prayers and acts of thanksgiving to be celebrated for his safety and victory. And that his devotions might complete their full circle, he sent his banner to the temple of the Blessed Virgin of Walsingham as an oblation, there discharging his vows where he had pronounced them. And in this way, freed from that so notable engine of fortune (which had been aimed against him), he returned to his pristine confidence of spirit, thinking with himself that all his misfortunes had rushed upon him at once.
But that befell which the talk of the common people at the beginning of his reign had portended to him, namely, that he would reign laboriously, because his kingdom had taken its beginning from the sweating-sickness. Yet although the king supposed that he was now sailing in harbor, such was his prudence that his confidence by no means obscured providence, especially in matters not remote. And so, roused by so recent and unexpected a peril, he revolved in mind by what methods he might both eradicate the participants and favorers of the past rebellion, extinguish for the future the seeds of similar dangers, and at the same time remove all the receptacles and refuges of men ill-disposed toward his affairs, where they brood, to have their rebellions a little later revivified. Therefore first he set a new departure from Lincoln toward the northern parts, although in truth this journey savored rather of a kind of itinerant judicial court than otherwise.
For wherever he betook himself, with great severity and a strict inquisition, partly by military law, partly by the ordinary course of justice, he animadverted upon those who had adhered to the past rebellion and had afforded it forces. Nor did he visit the majority with death (since the battle itself had poured out no small amount of blood), but with pecuniary mulcts, sparing their lives, while amassing treasures. Among other crimes of that kind, diligent inquiry was made concerning those who had stirred up and spread a certain rumor a little before the battle was joined, that the rebels had won the battle, that the king’s army had been debelled, and that the king himself had fled.
Whence there was an opinion that many, who otherwise would have come to the king’s succor, had by that artifice been detained and terrified. Which accusation, although it was not entirely devoid of foundation, was nevertheless craftily and avidly seized upon by certain persons, who, since they themselves had been sluggish and negligent in defending the king’s side, used this pretext to cover their tepidity and inertia. Which cunning, nonetheless, the king was unwilling to detect, although he laid it up in mind, insofar as it concerned certain particular persons, as was his custom.
16. Verum quoad extirpationem radicum et caussarum motuum similium temporibus futuris, coepit rex sentire ubi eum calceus suus ureret, quodque depressio familiae Eboracensis in omnibus tanquam unguis in ulcere esset. Factus igitur iam cautior, neque pericula amplius contemnere aut remedia eorum dedignatione quadam reiicere volens, atque aliquid quod in hac re animos hominum sanare posset praestare cupiens (praesertim in caeremonia quapiam externa), decrevit tandem coronationem reginae maturare. Postquam igitur Londinum reversus esset, quo magna cum pompa et tanquam triumphali ingressus est victoriamque suam per biduum sacris obeundis celebrasset (priore enim die templum D. Pauli adiit et hymnumTe Deum cantari fecit, crastino autem solennem processionem habuit et concioni apud crucem Divi Pauli interfuit), regina, summa cum magnificentia et splendidissimo apparatu, apud Westmonasterium coronata est Novembris vicesimo quinto, anno autem regis tertio.
16. But as regards the extirpation of the roots and causes of similar commotions in future times, the king began to feel where his own shoe pinched him, and that the depression of the House of York was, in all things, like a nail in an ulcer. Having therefore become more cautious, no longer willing to despise dangers or to reject their remedies with a certain disdain, and desiring to provide something that could heal men’s minds in this matter (especially in some outward ceremony), he at length resolved to expedite the queen’s coronation. After, then, he had returned to London, into which he entered with great pomp and as it were in triumphal fashion, and had celebrated his victory for two days by performing sacred rites (for on the first day he went to the church of St. Paul and had the hymnTe Deum sung, but on the morrow he held a solemn procession and attended the sermon at St. Paul’s Cross), the queen, with the highest magnificence and most splendid display, was crowned at Westminster on November 25, in the king’s year 3.
Which coronation followed her nuptials by about two years, like a belated baptism which the godfathers had long awaited. This strange and unexpected protraction of time was thus noted by all, as if the matter were by no means pleasing to the king’s taste, but had been imposed on him by a certain necessity and for reasons of state. A little later, in order that it might be made plain to all that a certain serenity had now been effected, and that the incarceration of Thomas, Marquess of Dorchester, was rather a matter of the times than of the man, the same marquess was restored to liberty without any examination or any sort of formula.
At about the same time the king sent a legation to Innocent the pontiff to inform him about his nuptials, and moreover to report that the king had now (like a second Aeneas) emerged from the waves and the long wanderings of his fortune and had made landfall in a safe port, and at the same time to give thanks to his Holiness, because he had honored the celebration of his nuptials by the presence of his nuncio, and to offer lavishly both his own person and the forces of the kingdom for the execution of his mandates.
17. Legatus autem regis orationem habens coram papa in praesentia cardinalium regem reginamque tanta verborum grandiloquentia extulit, ut fastidio eos qui aderant prope enecaret. At postquam ad papae laudes pervenisset, ita eum ad caelos useque elevavit et deificavit ut omnia quae de rege et regina iam modo dierat moderata viderentur et tolerabilia. A papa sane honorifice admodum exceptus est, et multa cum gratia dimissus.
17. But the king’s legate, delivering an oration before the pope in the presence of the cardinals, extolled the king and queen with such grandiloquence of words that he nearly killed those present with weariness. But after he had come to the praises of the pope, he so elevated him to the skies and deified him that everything he had just said about the king and queen seemed moderate and tolerable. By the pope indeed he was received very honorably, and dismissed with much favor.
For the pope, being conscious of his own sloth, and that he was regarded as utterly useless to the Christian orb, was affected with great joy because he saw that his name and praises were resounding so felicitously among more remote realms. He also obtained from the pope a very just and honorific bull for the moderating of the privileges of asylums (which had brought the king so many troubles) in three articles.
18. Primo, ut si quis ex asylo noctu aut alias clanculum exisset et maleficii aliquid vel transgressionis commiteret, ac deinde se in asylum recepisset, asyli iure in perpetuum decideret. Secundo, ut licet corpus eius qui in asylo degebat a creditoribus immune esset, tamen bona quae extra asylum inventa essent legi subiicerentur. Tertio, ut si quis ad asylum propter crimen laesae maiestatis confugisset, bene liceret regi custodes ei intra asylum ipsum apponere qui eius dicta et facta observarent.
18. First, that if anyone had gone out of the asylum by night or otherwise secretly and should commit some malefaction or transgression, and then had betaken himself back into the asylum, he should forfeit the right of asylum in perpetuity. Second, that although the body of one who was dwelling in the asylum was immune from creditors, nevertheless the goods which were found outside the asylum should be subjected to the law. Third, that if anyone had fled to the asylum on account of the crime of lèse-majesté, it should be lawful for the king to appoint guards for him within the asylum itself, who would observe his words and deeds.
19. Rex quoque, in maiorem regni sui securitatem contra seditiosos et malevolos subditos (quibus regnum abundare sciebat) qui in Scotiam ad libitum aufugere possent, quippe quae non sub clavibus erat quemadmodum erant regni portus, huius rei causa magis quam quod hostilia ab eo regno metueret, ante adventum suum Londinum (dum apud oppidum Novi Castri maneret) legatos solenniter miserat ad Iacobum Tertium Scotiae regem, qui de pace cum eo tractarent et concluderent. Fuerunt autem legati Richardus Foxus episcopus Exoniensis et Richardus Edgcombus eques auratus regii hospitii contrarotulator, qui honorifice apud eum regem excepti fuerunt. Verum rex Scotiae eodem quo rex Angliae modo laborans (licet, ut postea apparabat, magis atroci et lethali), hoc est, subditis malignis ad tumultus ciendos idoneis, etsi affectu proprio in pacem cum rege componendam multum inclinaret, tamen proceres suos in hac re cognoscens aversissimos (quos irritare timebat) inducias tantum in septennium concessit, in secreto tamen pollicitus eas inducias de tempore in tempus renovatas iri quandiu uterque rex in vivis esset.
19. The king also, for the greater security of his realm against seditious and malevolent subjects (with whom he knew the kingdom to abound) who might flee away into Scotland at their pleasure—since it was not under lock and key as the ports of the realm were—on account of this matter rather than because he feared hostilities from that kingdom, before his arrival at London (while he was staying at the town of Newcastle), had solemnly sent ambassadors to James III, King of Scotland, to treat and conclude with him concerning peace. The ambassadors were Richard Fox, Bishop of Exeter, and Richard Edgcombe, a knight of the golden spur, Comptroller of the Royal Household, who were honorably received by that king. But the King of Scotland, suffering in the same way as the King of England (though, as afterwards appeared, in a more atrocious and deadly fashion), that is, with malicious subjects fit to stir up tumults, although by his own disposition he inclined much to the composing of peace with the king, yet, recognizing his nobles in this matter as most averse (whom he feared to irritate), granted only a truce for seven years, yet in secret promised that this truce would be renewed from time to time as long as each king should be alive.