MISCELLANY 39
THE
PITIFULL LIFE
OF
KYNG EDWARD THE. V.
IV: Buckingham questions Sanctuary
The Archbishop having failed to persuade the Queen to leave Sanctuary,
Richard of Gloucester continues his arguments, now supported by the Duke of
Buckingham, who questions the whole concept of Sanctuary and argues that it
should certainly be thought perfectly reasonable to remove someone by force if
they should never have sought Sanctuary in the first place, and he regards the
Queen as having abused the concept and therefore liable to eviction. The Council
of Lords temporal and spiritual begins to veer in this direction and finally
the whole Council goes in to see the Queen, who after much browbeating by them,
and in great doubt and with great misgivings agrees to hand over her younger
son Richard, on condition that the Archbishop directly looks after him and the
Council promise to protect him. The
young prince Richard is delivered and reunited with his brother, they are taken
to the Tower of London (which at the time was a perfectly normal palace as well
as a prison), and, as Hall tersely states, the two young brothers were never
seen again.
Naye womannishe frowardnesse [contrariness]
quod the Duke of Buckyngham, for I dare take it on my solle that she well
knoweth that she nedeth no such thynge to feare, either for her Sonne or for
her self. For as for her, here is no man that will be at warre with women,
would God some men of her kynne were women to, and then sltould all be sone in
rest, Howbeit, there is none of her kynne the lesse loued for that hcy be of
her kynne, but for their ownc euill deseruynge. And put the case that we
neither loued her nor her kynne, yet there were no cause why we should hate the
kings noble brother to whose grace we oure selfes be kynne, whose honoure yf
she desired as oure dishonoure, and as much regard toke to his wealth as to her
awne wyll, she could be as loth to sufire him to be absent from the kyng as any
of vs, yf she had any wytte, as would God she had as good wyll as she hath
frowarde wytte. For she thinketh her self no wyser then some that are here, of
whose faithful myndes she nothing doubteth, but vcrely beleuetb and kuowlegeth
that they woulde be as sorye of his harme as her awne selfe, and yet they would
bane him from her if she abyde there. And wc all I thynke be content that bothe
her chyldrcn be with her if she came from thence and abyde in suchc place where
they may be with their honour. Nowe yf she refuse in the deliueraunce of him to
folowe the wysedome of them, whose wysedome she knoweth, whose approbate
fidelitie she well trusteth: it is easye to percewe that frowardenesse letteth
her, and not feare. But go to, suppose that she feareth (as who may let her to
feare her awne shadowe) the more we ought to fear to leaue hym in her handes,
for yf she cast such fond doubtes that she feare his hurte, then wyll she feare
that he shall be fet thence, for she wyll soone thynke that yf men were set
(which God forbyd on so great a mischief) the sanctuary wyl litle let them,
which sanctuary good men as me thinketh might without synne, somewhat lesse
regard then they do. Now then, if she doubt least he might be fetched from her.
is it not likely that she wyll send him somewhere out of the realme? verely I
loke for none other. And I doubt not but she now as sore myndeth it, as we
mynde the let therof: And if she might hap to bring that purpose to passe, as
it were no great mastery to do, we letting her alone, all the world would say
that we were a sorte of wyse cousaillers about a king to let his brother to be
cast away vnder oure noses. And thcrfore I ensure you faithfully, for my mynde,
I wyll rather maugrc her stomacke fetche hym awaye, then leue him there till
her feare or fond frowarde feare conuey him away, and yet will I breake no
sanctuary, for verely sith the priuelege of that place and other of that sorte
have so long continued, I would not go about to breake it, but yf they were
nowe to begynne I woulde not be he that should make them: yet wyl not I say
nay, but it is a deedc of pitie, that such men as the chaunce of the sea, or
their euill debters haue brought into pouertee, should haue some place of
refuge to kepe in their bodies out of the daungcr of their cruel crcditours.
And if it fortune the croune to come in question as it hath done before this
tyme whyle eche parte taketh other for traytours, I thynke it nccessarye to
haue a place of refuge for bothe: But as for theucs and murthercrs, wherof
these places be full, and which ncuer falle from their crafte after they once
fallc therunto, it is pytec that euer sanctuary should serue them, and in
especiall wylfull murtherers, whom God commaundeth to be taken from the aulter
and to be put to death. And where it is othcrwyse then in these cases, there is
no nede of sainctuaries, apointed by God in the old lawe. For yf ncccssitc of
his owne defence or misfortune driued hym to that deede, then a pardon scructh
him, which either is graunted of course, or ye kyng of pytee and compassion
geueth. Nowe loke howc fewe sainctuary men there be whom nccessitee or
misfortune compelled to go thethcr? And then see on the other syd, what a sortc
there be commonly therein of such, whom wylfull vnthriftynes hath brought to
naught? what a rable of tlieues, murtherers and malicious beynous traitours be,
and that in two places specially, the one at the elbow of the cytee, and the
other in the very bowels. I dare well a vowe it, yf you way the good that they
do, with the hurte that commeth of them, ye shall fynde it muche better to lese
both then to haue both. And this I say, although they were not abused (as they
now be and so longe haue bene) that I feare me euer they wyll be whyle men be
afearde to set to their handes to the amendemente, as though God and saincte
Peter were the patrons of vngracious liuynge. Now vnthriftes riote and ronne in
debte vpon boldnes of these places, yea, and ritche menne ronne thyther with
poore mens goodes, there they buylde, there they spende and byd their
crcditours goo whystle. Mens wyues ronne thither with their husbands plate, and
say they dare not abyde with their husbandes for betyngc, theucs bring thether
stollen goodes and lyue theron. There deuyse they newe robberies nightely and
steale oute and robbe, riue, and kyll menne and come agayne into those places,
as though those places gaue them not onely a sauegard for the harme that they
haue done, but a licence also to do more mischiefe: howebeit, much of this
great abusion, (yf wyse menne woulde sette their handes there vnto) might be
amended, with great thankes of God and no breche of the priuelege. The
conclusion is, sithe it is so long a goo I wote not what pope and what prince
more piteous then politique, hath graunted it, and other men sence of a
religious feare haue not broken it, lette vs take a paine with it, and lette it
stande a Goddes name in his force, as far furthe as reason will, whiche is not
so farfurthe as may serue too lette vs of the fetching furthe of this noble
manne to his honoure and wealthe out of that place in the whiche he ne- ther is
nor can bee a sanctuarye or priueleged man. A sanctuarye euer seruethe too
defende the body of that manne that standeth in daunger abi ode, not of greate
hurte ouely, but of lawfull hurte: for againste vnlawfull hurtes and harmes no
pope ner kynge entended to priuilege any one place wherein it is lawefull for
one manne to doo another manne wronge. That no manne vnlawefully take hurte
that libertie the kynge, the lawe and verie nature forbiddeth in euery place
and maketh too that regarde for euery manne euery place a sanctuarye: but where
a manne is by lawefull meanes in perell, there nedeth be the tuicion of some
speciall priuilege, whiche is the onely ground of all sanctuaries, from whiche
necessitee this noble prince is far, whose loue to his kynge nature and kynred
proueth, whose innocence too all the worlde, his tender youth affirmeth, and so
sanctuarye as for hym is not necessary, ner none he can haue. Menne come not
too sanctuarye as they come too baptisme to require it by his godfathers, he
muste aske it hym selfe that muste haue it, and reason, sithe no manne hathc
cause to haue it, but whose consience of his awne faute maketh hym haue nede to
require it. What will then hath younder babe, which yf he had discrecion to
require it yf nede were, I dare saye woulde bee nowe righte angry with them
that kepe him there? And I would thinke withoute any scruple of conscience,
without any breche of priuilege too be somwuat more homely with theim that be
there sanctuarye menne in dede, that yf one go to sanctuary with another mannes
goodes, why should not the king leuyng his body at liberty satisfy the party of
his goodes euen within the sanctuarye, for nether kyng nor pope can geue any
place such a priuilege that it shall discharge a man of his debtes beeyng hable
to paie.
And with that diuerse of the
clergie that were there present, whether, they saied it for his pleasure or as
they thought, agreed plainly by the lawe of God and of the church that the
goodes of a sanctuarye man should be deliuered in paiment of his debtes, and
stollen goodes to the owner, and onelye libertie reserued to hym to get his
liuyng with the labour of his handes. Verely quod the duke I thynke ye saye
very truth: And what if a mans wife take sanctuary because she list to ronne
fro her husband? I would thynke if she can allege none other cause he may
laufully without any displeasure done too sainct Peter, take her out of saincte
Peters church by the arme. And yf no body may be taken out of sanctuary because
he saieth he will abide there, then yf a chylde will take Sanctuary because he
fcareth to go to schoole, his master must let hym alone. And as simple as that
example is, yet is there lesse reason in our case then in it, for there, though
it be a childeshe feare, yet is there at the least some feare, and herein is no
feare at all. And verely I haue harde of sanctuarye menne, but I neuer harde
before of sanctuary children, ... and he that taketh one out of sanctuary to do
hym good I saie plainly he breaketh no sanctuary.
When the duke had done, the
temporal menne wholy, and the most parte of the spirituall menne also thynkynge
no hurt earthely ment toward the young baby, condisccnded in effecte that yf he
wer not deliucred he shoulde be fetched oute. Howbeit, they thought it beste in
aduoydyng of all maner of rumour, that the cardinall shoulde firste assaie to
get him with her good will. And thervpon all the counsaill came to ye sterre
chamber at Westminster, and the cardinal leauing the protectour and other lords
in the sterre chamber, departed into the sanctuarye to yr quene, accompaignied
with certain lordes, were it for the respecte of his honour or that she should
by the persones of so many, perceiue that his arrande was not onely one mans
mynde, or were it for that the protectour entended not in this matter to truste
one manne alone, or els if she finally were determined to kepe hym, some of the
compaignie had paraduenture some secrete instruction incontinente maugree her
will too take him and to leaue her no respite to conueigh him.
When the quene and these lordes
were come together in presence, the Cardinall shewed vnto her that it was thought to the lorde
protector and the whole counsaill that her kepyng of the kyng his brother in
that place highly sounded, not onely to the grudge of the people & their
obloquy, but also to the importable grief and displeasure of the kynge his
royall maiestye, to whose grace it were a synguler comforte to haue his
naturall brother in compaignie, and it was their bothes dishonoures &
theirs and hers also, to suffre him in sanctuary, as though the one brother
stode in danger and perell of the other. And he shewed her farther that the
whole counsaill had sent hym to require of her the deliuerye of him that he
might be brought to the king his presence at his libertie out of that place
which men reconed as a prisone, and there should he be demeaned according to
his estate and degree, & she in this doing should both do great good to the
realme, pleasure to the counsaill, profite to her self, succour to her frendes
that wer in distresse, and ouer that, which he wiste well she specially
tendered, not onely greate comforte and honour to the king but also to the
young duke hym selfe, whose both great wealth it were to be together, aswell
for many greater causes as also for their both disport and recreacion, whiche
thinges the lordes estemed not lighte, though it semed light, well ponderynge
that their youth without recreacion and play cannot endure, ner any estraunger
for the conuenience of both their ages & estates so motely in that poinct for
any of them as the either of them for thother.
My lord (quod the quene,) I saie
not nay, but that it were very conueniente that this gentleman whom you require
were in the compaignie of the kyng his brother, and in good faith me thinketh
it wer as great commoditee to theim both, as for yet a while too be in the
custody of their mother the tendre age considered of the elder of theim both,
but in especiall the younger, whiche besides his infancie that also nedeth good
lookynge to hath a while been so sore diseased with sickenes and is so newlye
rather a litle amended then well recouered, that I dare put no persone earthly
in truste with his kepyng, but my selfe onely, considering there is as
phisicians saie, and as we also finde, double the perell in the resiluacion
that was in the firste sickenes, with which disease nature beeyng sore
laboured, sore weried and weakened, waxeth the lesse hablc to bear our a new
surfet. And albeit there might be founde other that woulde happely doo their
best vnto hym, yet is there none that either knoweth better how to ordre hym
then I, that so long haue kept him, or is more tendrely like too cherishe hym
then his owne mother that bare hym. No man denieth good madame, quod the
Cardinall, but that your grace of all folke wer moste necessary aboute your
chyldren, and so woulde all the counsaill not onely bee contente but also glad
that it were if it might stand with your pleasure to be in such place as might
stand with their honoure,
However, after much
argument and persuasion by the Archbishop of Canterbury...
at the laste she toke the young duke by the hand and
said vnto the lordes, my lorde quod she and all my lordes, neither am I so
vnwyse to mystruste your wittes, nor so suspicious to mistruste your truthes:
of the which thyng I purpose to make suche a proofe, that if either of both
lacked in you, might turne both me to great sorowe, the realms to much harme
and you to great reproche. For lo, here is quod she this gentleman whom I doubt
not but I could kepe safe if I would, whatsoeuer any manne saie, and I doubte
not also but there be some abroade so dedly enemies vnto my bloud, that yf they
wiste where any of it lay in their own body they would let it out: we haue also
experieuce that the desire of a kyngdome knoweth no kynrede, the brother hath
been the brothers bane, and may the nephewes be sure of the vncle? eche of
these children are others defence while they be asunder, and eche of their
liues lieth in others body, kepe one safe and both be sure, and nothing to both
more perilous then both too be in one place: for a wise marchaunte neuer
auentureth al his gooddes in one ship. Al this notwithstandyng, here I deliuer
him and his brother in him, to kepe to your handes, of whome I shall aske them
bothe before God and the worlde. Faithefull you be and that I wote well, and I
knowe you be wise and of power and strength yf you liste to kepe him, for you
lacke no helpe of your selues, nor nede to lacke no helpe in this case, and yf
you cannot els where, then maye you leaue hym here: But onely one thyng I
beseche you, for the trust that his father put you in euer, and for the truste
that I putte you in now, that as farre as you thynke that I feare to muche, ye
be well ware that you feare not to litle. And therewith all she saied to the
chyld, fare well mine owne swete sonne, God send you good kepyng, let me once
kisse you or you go, for God knoweth whe we shal kisse together agayn, &
therewith she kyssed hym, & blessed hym, and turned her backe & wepte,
goyng her waie, leauyng the poore innocent chylde wepyng as faste as the
mother. When the Cardinail and the other lordes had receyued the younge duke,
they brought him into the starre chaumbre, where the protectoure toke him into
his armes and kissed hym with these wordes: now welcome my lorde with all my
verie herte, & he saied in that of likelihod euen as he inwardely thought,
and there vpon, furthwith brought him to the kyng his brother into the
bishoppes palace at Paules, and from thence through the cytee honorably into
the tower, out of which after that daie they neuer came abrode.
Richard’s dastardly deeds continue next week
