CHAPTER X
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THE princes were murdered, either by Richard or by some agency after his death. They could not have died natural deaths because that would have been recorded and there would never have been any mystery about it.
The question of Richard’s possible participation has now been rather thoroughly discussed. But what of Henry and the chance that he ordered the killings?
What was he doing during the ninety-eight days which elapsed between his arrival in London after Bosworth and the meeting in the House when he promised the members to marry the princess Elizabeth? He seems to have found it hard to make up his mind. Could it have been that he realized the need to remove the stain of illegitimacy from his bride’s name but feared to take a step which would clear the two princes of the same stigma? If they were still alive, this would be a hard decision for the careful Henry to make.The two boys would then have become a greater danger to him than they could ever have been to Richard. And this must be kept in mind: that during those ninety-eight days the Tower was filled with the officers and guards of Henry’s choosing.
This is not intended as a charge against Henry and is put forward as no more than a possibility. The air has been filled with the possibilities brewed up against Richard, so why not let Henry taste some of the same medicine?
No clear and convincing solution can now be reached as to how, when, and where the princes died. But there came about a rather curious series of events which seem to tie together, to hint at a determined and cunning mind at work and a subtle hand moving under the surface. Henry married the princess Elizabeth on January 18, 1486. On June 16 of that year Sir James Tyrell was granted what was called “a general pardon.” There was nothing unusual about this. It seems to have been the rule for men to seek such a clearance on leaving office. But one month later, on July 16, this was repeated. What need was there for a repetition within such a brief period? Had something occurred between the two dates which made it necessary for Tyrell’s record to receive a second official scrubbing?
The following year Henry paid a visit one day to the administrative offices at Westminster. The officials had learned already to study his moods and to act in accordance. If money had to be spent, the king would be silent and unapproachable. But on the occasion in question, Henry was smiling. There was a trace of warmth in his pale eyes and certainly there was eagerness in the way he settled down before his writing table. He proceeded then to sign papers which granted to his beautiful young wife, Elizabeth, the lordships and manors of Waltham Magna, Badewe, Mashbury, Dunmow, Lighe, and Farnham. Being the kind of man he was, this amounted to taking these extensive landholdings into his own possession.
The important point about the transaction, however, was that all these properties belonged to Elizabeth’s mother, the dowager queen. It was clear that she had fallen into the bad graces of the king. Had something happened to open a breach between them? Had she shown, for instance, an undue inquisitiveness in any matters? The way he treated her for the rest of her life seems to indicate that he felt the need to keep her in seclusion.
The dowager queen was no longer young. Eight years older than the king she had married, she was now launched into the span of years which women of that day seldom achieved, the fifties. Her personal maids were clever and had managed to retain some of the gilt in her hair. Her eyes were clear and expressive. Her figure was good and she was still a handsome woman. She had been suggested as a wife for the young widower King of Scotland but the plan had not matured.
This once influential figure was greatly distressed when Henry ordered her to withdraw into the abbey of Bermondsey. She did not want to retire from active life. Twice before she had spent lengthy terms in sanctuary and she did not want to experience more of it. But Henry was adamant. After taking over all of her dower properties, he gave her a pension of 400 marks a year, and into Bermondsey she went. There were handsome apartments in the abbey for her use, but the rules laid down for her amounted almost to imprisonment. She spent the rest of her remaining years in what one historian calls “a wretched and miserable life,” dying after five years of it. Her will expressed a plaintive regret that she had nothing to leave to her daughters. The body was taken to Windsor without any ringing of bells to bid her farewell and there she was buried quietly.
Henry gave a reason to the royal council for treating her in this summary way which provides one of the strongest reasons for believing Richard innocent. The queen mother, he declared, had broken a promise she had made to him in writing when he was an exile in France. The promise was that she would never allow her daughters to suffer the contaminations of Richard’s court. But the only excuse which had been found by Tudor apologists for her willingness to reopen normal relations with the supposed murderer of her young sons was that Richard had forced her to leave sanctuary by threats. Openly stating thus his conviction that the queen mother acted of her own free will and should be punished, Henry makes it clear there was every reason to believe the princes were still alive at the time!
Thus does cupidity in its blindness sometimes clear the way for truth.
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Starting probably in 1485, the story was circulated widely that the princes had died at the hands of their wicked uncle, but as the new king did nothing to bring the guilty to punishment, a tinge of doubt was soon noticeable in the reactions of the public. It was this uncertainty which led to the Great Impersonations. The reign of Henry VII is chiefly remembered by those who enjoy the color and excitements of history because of two youths who came forward at different times with claims to the throne.
The first was Lambert Simnel, whose father is said to have been a pastry cook in Oxford. This boy was handsome, bright, and very likable, a perfect tool for the purpose. A young priest at the university, named Richard Symonds, saw the boy and a daring plan took possession of his mind. If the youth were trained with sufficient care, he could be passed off as a member of the Plantagenet family. He had the fair hair, the vibrant blue eye, the fine features. Accordingly, young Lambert was taken away from his father’s shop and kept in seclusion while the diligent and astute priest taught him to read and write, to become learned in the arts, and to deport himself with the graces of royalty. Young Lambert was a quick study and soon he carried himself with many of the outward marks of good birth.
While his tuition was being carried on, Symonds sent word to the dowager Duchess Margaret of Burgundy, one of the daughters of Richard of York. She was an ardent Yorkist still and had been deeply attached to the late King Richard. Her detestation of Henry was so great that she displayed a quick interest in the priest’s story. The boy in his charge, wrote the wily priest, was the real Earl of Warwick, son of George of Clarence, and the youth being held in the Tower as Warwick was a “double” of obscure birth and weak intellect. The dowager duchess accepted the story and promised to lend her support.
The boy was taken to Ireland where he was received literally with open arms. Some of this was due, no doubt, to the continuous desire of the Irish leaders to make trouble for the kings of England. But the boy’s manners were so gracious and his appearance so winning that the support given him was practically unanimous. He was crowned king as Edward VI in the cathedral of Christchurch in Dublin. The duchess Margaret sent funds and promises of armed support. She was as good as her word, for a contingent of German mercenaries arrived in due course. It was a small force of 2000 men but this was sufficient to touch off Irish enthusiasm, which manifested itself in enlistments. A landing was made in Lancashire, but the expected reinforcements from English sympathizers did not materialize to any extent. Henry marched north with a much larger force and a battle was fought at Stoke-on-Trent. The German mercenaries behaved bravely but the royal army had little difficulty in winning the decision. Both Simnel and the priest Symonds were taken prisoner.
The priest was condemned to life imprisonment and the boy was pardoned because of his tender years. He was taken into the king’s service as a scullion. This act was held up as an example of the king’s leniency, and perhaps rightly. Henry was a great believer in household system and did not hesitate to make tours of inspection himself. There may have been satisfaction for him in seeing this young impostor, who had caused him so much trouble and expense, scaling fish in a greasy jerkin and scouring dirty kettles.
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He was less lenient in the case of the second impostor. This was a boy named Perkin Warbeck, who was born in the Flemish city of Tournay. Again this lad of humble birth had all the external attributes of aristocracy, seeming to all who saw him to be cast in the Plantagenet mold. By accident he found employment with English families and began to speak the English tongue. Whether he conceived the idea himself or had it implanted in his mind by his English employers, he began to fancy himself capable of playing the part of one of the missing princes. People began to say, “This is a strange youth. He is much above the station in which he lives. He is indeed a very prince.” Word of him was carried to Ireland and the Earls of Desmond and Kildare became interested in him. Finally, the ever receptive Margaret of Burgundy had him sent to her. Perhaps she was willing to make use of any tool to disturb the hated Henry; perhaps she was genuinely convinced by the boy’s intelligence and his graceful deportment. At any rate she professed to believe him to be her nephew Richard. Charles VIII of France was won over, as were the youthful Duke of Burgundy and James IV of Scotland. Maximilian, King of the Romans, became interested in the boy and was the chief contributor to an expedition which was fitted out for the invasion of England.
The English people might be entertaining doubts, but few of them were willing to fight for another boy king, no matter how good his claim might be. A landing was attempted along the Kentish coast but without success. The masquerader and his supporters were hasty in getting aboard again and setting sail for Ireland. But the Irish people had learned their lesson from the failure of their efforts for Lambert Simnel. They turned out in cheering mobs to see this handsome young man but they showed no desire to fight for him. Perkin, therefore, left the country and sailed to Scotland.
The Scottish king was sufficiently impressed with his princely visitor to believe his story. He arranged a marriage for him with Lady Catherine Gordon, daughter of the Earl of Huntley. It developed into a love match and, by the time the king arranged to lead an army into England, the fair Catherine had borne Warbeck two children.
The invasion was a failure. Later a few ships were provided for him and, being a youth of stout heart, he made a landing near Whitesand Bay near Land’s End, late in the autumn of 1497. This time he took heart from the warmth of the reception he received. Henry had been taxing the people beyond the point of endurance.
A little army gathered to support the pretender but they were unable to make a stand against the royal troops. Perkin Warbeck and his faithful wife were taken prisoner. This time the law moved with severity and dispatch. Warbeck was hanged in the Tower. But not before he had been allowed to see the young Earl of Warwick and to discuss with him the possibility of a joint escape. That unfortunate youth was misled into making some form of confession. He was taken out at once and beheaded.
It was at this time that the Spanish ambassador in England wrote to his master, “Not a doubtful drop of royal blood remains in the kingdom.” But he was not accurate in that statement. There was the youthful Edmund de la Pole, a nephew of the dead Richard. He had escaped to the continent and did not return until the reign of Henry VIII, who promptly sent him to the block.