Pagina-afbeeldingen
PDF
ePub

six strokes of a rusty sword; his corpse was stripped of his mailed velvet suit, and put ashore, with his property and his servants, on the coast of Kent.

The Sheriff watched the body until word could be had from the King what was to be done with it; and it was honourably buried at Wingfield, in Suffolk. Who was the real mover in this bloody deed was never known. The sailors did indeed bitterly resent the loss of France, but if they had been the devisers of the cruelty, they would probably have slain him at once, instead of waiting, apparently, for orders. The next suspicion falls on the Duke of York, but nothing in his after life is consistent with so abominable a murder; and who was Suffolk's chief enemy-unless he were Lord Cromwell-must remain a mystery. His horrible death did not even produce any relenting, but a ballad was sung in exultation over him, putting scraps of the dirge and penitential psalms into the mouths of the friends who had been unable to save Jac Nape, as he is throughout called-i.e. Jack the Cnape, or knave, the origin of Jackanapes.

The populace of England were in a frightful state of lawless disaffection, and reports were rife that the men of Kent would be punished for the murder of Suffolk, by the Queen's desire. It was a monstrous allegation; but the whole country was in a state of ferment, savage at the loss of the French dominions, and further excited to mischief by the soldiers whom the cessation of the war had turned loose upon the country, with all the lawless violence bred of thirty years warfare. They could not rob the sturdy well-armed English peasantry, as the routiers did the French poor; but they excited them to discontent. To the army York had been the hero, and Somerset the object of hatred, and the notion that the French Queen and the ministers had betrayed the Duke of York and sold the conquests of Henry V. with the Beauforts' connivance, excited the people to fury. How far York was responsible cannot be made out; in fact, the inner history of this reign is entirely untraceable. It sometimes seems like a parody of that of Richard II., but in that case the motives are much more evident. De Vere was a really vicious and mischievous minion, such as De la Pole never was. Richard had a strong personal animosity to Thomas of Glocester, such as gentle Henry never felt for Humfrey of the same dukedom, and the peasantry who rose under Wat Tyler had terrible grievances, of a kind which did not exist when the faction of 1450 broke out.

The chief mover was a man named John Cade, Irish by birth, but who had been a tenant of William Ayscough, Bishop of Salisbury, and in the service of Sir William Dagre. He had killed a woman in his early days, had taken sanctuary, and then escaped to France, where he had fought, some say on the French side, some on the English-not improbably on both. After the disbanding of the army he returned to Ireland, where the Duke of York was governor, and shortly after appeared in Kent, declaring that his real name was Mortimer, and

apparently professing to be son to an uncle of the Earl of March, a John Mortimer, who had suffered for the conspiracy of the Earl of Cambridge.

This would not have made him heir to the crown; but the Mortimers had become a favourite family since Beauforts had been dreaded as possibly next in the succession; and the men of Kent flocked eagerly around him, to the number of twenty thousand, whom he marshalled not unskilfully, by the help of his military knowledge. He put forth the demands of his followers in a proclamation, called 'The Complaint of the Commons of England.' It began with the absurd complaint that Kent was to be ravaged in vengeance for Suffolk's death, and made into a royal forest, and then proceeded to various vexations and grievances through purveyors and sheriffs, distance of the sessions from their homes, and the exactions of the lawyers-all probably real, though petty, and to these were added, the monstrous story at the beginning, and the popular cry against the royal favourites, and the losses in France, to gain the public mind. Much does seem to have been amiss. Many small exactions were made by officers of the law, and as these were almost all clergymen of inferior situation, the clerical office, and indeed all educated men, were hated as oppressors, and the people were worked up into a terrible state of rage and fury.

At first the Court seems to have thought that the county magistrates could put down the riot, but when the insurgents were actually at Blackheath, in a camp entrenched with some skill, and the 'Captain of the Commons' had a regular correspondence with a draper in the city, who forced the Italian merchants there resident to tax themselves to supply armour to the rebels, the danger was felt to be imminent, an army of 15,000 men was assembled, and the King took the command.

Henry was beloved by all, and Cade could hardly have brought his men to fight against their sovereign in person; while, on the other hand, he knew there was disaffection enough among the royal troops towards everyone except the King to make time important. So Cade fell back to a wood near Sevenoaks, leaving ambushes in case he should be pursued; and this deceived Henry, who returned, happy in believing that his subjects would not attack him, and sending on a body of men under Sir Humfrey Stafford, great-nephew to the Archbishop, to pursue the rebels and break them up. They fell into the ambush and were all cut off, and the Court remained in much anxiety, ignorant of their fate, and only knowing that Mortimer, as he called himself, had come back to Blackheath more triumphant and glorious than ever, and moreover that Bishop Ayscough of Salisbury, the King's confessor, had been dragged from the altar at Edington while officiating, and done to death, as being of the court party, but no doubt also to gratify an old grudge of Cade's.

The army was summoned to the field again; but there only came

murmurs against fighting with fellow-countrymen, whose requests were not unreasonable after all, and a wish for the presence of the Duke of York, who was far away in Ireland. To satisfy these murmurers Henry consented to send to the Tower his chamberlain, Lord Say and Sele, and good old Archbishop Stafford offered to go in person to this camp of murderers, promise them the redress of their real grievances, and induce them to lay down their arms.

It was bravely done of him; and with him went his kinsman, the Duke of Buckingham; but as they drew near the camp a mournful sight met them-the arms of their late friends decking the rebels, and Cade himself arrayed in Sir Humfrey Stafford's armour, set with gilt studs, and his gilt spurs.

No violence was attempted, and they were struck with Cade's ability. He refused to treat with anybody but the King, for whom he expressed infinite loyalty, nor would he lay down his arms till the ministers were dismissed and the government in the hands of the Duke of York; but if the King would come to Blackheath he would find a loyal army, ready to defend him, and choose his counsellors.

With this answer the Archbishop returned, and finding that the cry for York was echoed both in the army and in London, he advised that the King and Queen should place themselves out of reach of the rebels in Kenilworth Castle, while all the trustworthy troops were placed under the command of Lord Scales and Sir Matthew Gough in the Tower of London, whither the Archbishop accompanied them, willing to brave the fate of Simon of Sudbury, if thus he could save the country.

Cade, as an old soldier, did his best to preserve discipline, and beheaded one of his officers for disobedience; and this encouraged the Lord Mayor and aldermen to admit him into London,-indeed, one who voted against so doing was imprisoned,-and the gates were opened on the 1st of July, in a sort of expectation that he would bring back better days, and intimidate the hated French Queen into recalling the Duke of York.

As Cade crossed the drawbridge he cut the ropes with his sword, that it might not be treacherously raised behind him, set up his standard in Cheapside, and rode through the streets, causing proclamation to be made in the King's name that no one should take anything without paying for it. Riding up to what was called London Stone,-the memorial certainly of the Roman Londiniun, and in the eyes of the people of old, of the King Lud who was said to have built Ludgate, and to have been coeval with Brennus, this Celtic leader struck it with his sword, exclaiming, 'Now is Mortimer Lord of London !'

So far his conduct had been moderate, but, as with Rienzi and Massaniello, the culminating moment proved too much for his brain.

On the 3rd he came into London again, and sent for Lord Say from the Tower. How that nobleman came to be surrendered does not

appear, but when he came to the Guildhall he was arraigned for treason, as well as the already murdered Bishop of Salisbury and Alice Chaucer, the widowed Duchess of Suffolk, who was fortunately out of reach.

Lord Say pleaded that he could be only tried by his peers, and as the Lord Mayor could make no answer to this, Cade took the law into his own hands, and caused the unfortunate minister to be taken to the standard at Cheapside and there beheaded. His son-in-law, Cromer, who was sheriff of Kent, was also beheaded at Mile End, and the heads of both were carried about on poles.

terror.

The monster mob was learning ferocity, and robbery set in. Cade even pillaged the house he had dined in, and Southwark was in a state of It was said that everyone who had any knowledge of law, or even of grammar, who fell into their hands, was in danger. The aldermen saw that their reformer was a failure, and when Cade had returned to his camp, they concerted measures with the royal garrison in the Tower to prevent another ruffianly visit to London. The gates of London Bridge were closed, Lord Scales and Sir Matthew Gough brought their forces down, and there was a six hours' fight in the streets, in the course of which Gough, an old captain, commonly called by the French version. of his name, Matagou, was killed; but when night came on the rebels found themselves worsted, and a truce was agreed upon.

Then the two Archbishops and Bishop Waynflete of Winchester offered themselves again to endeavour to appease the enemy. They met the ringleaders at St. Margaret's Church, received a paper of Cade's complaints, and offered pardon under the Great Seal to all who would return to their homes.

Cade accepted the pardon and retired, but in his camp at Blackheath he changed his mind, set up his standard, and tried to collect men to attack the City again; but the result of the last day's fight had dispirited his followers, and he could only fall back through Deptford to Rochester. There his men fell to quarrelling over the plunder; and he, in despair, mounted his horse and rode away. A proclamation was set forth placing a price of 1000 marks on his head; and the new sheriff of Kent, Alexander Iden, pursuing hotly after him, found him in a garden at Heyfield, and beheaded him at once. The deluded men of Kent crept home, and were for the most part unmolested, though a few ringleaders were tried and executed. So ended this strange brief rebellion.

The Queen, who never did understand English law, tried to obtain from an esquire of Sir John Fastolfe's an impeachment of his master for treason. She failed, and only added to the general dislike of her, though probably Fastolfe had been a well-wisher to the rebels, since he is known to have been a strong partizan of Glocester, and hater of the Court.

(To be continued.)

THE CAGED LION.

CHAPTER VII

THE SIEGE OF MEAUX.

WINTRY winds and rains were sweeping over the English tents on the banks of the Marne, where Henry V. was besieging Meaux, then the stronghold of one of those terrible freebooters, who were always the offspring of a lengthened war. Jean de Gast, usually known as the Bastard de Vaurus, nominally was of the Armagnac or patriotic party, but in fact pillaged indiscriminately, especially capturing travellers on their way to Paris, and setting on their heads a heavy price, failing which he hung them upon the great elm tree in the market-place. The very suburbs of Paris were infested by the forays of this desperate routier, as such highway robbers were called; the supplies of provisions were cut off, and the citizens had petitioned King Henry that he would relieve them from so intolerable an enemy.

The King intended to spend the winter months with his queen in England, and at once attacked the place in October, hoping to carry it by a coup de main. He took the lower city, containing the market-place and several large convents, with no great difficulty; but the upper city, on a rising ground above the river, was strongly fortified, well victualled, and bravely defended, and he found himself forced to invest it, and make a regular siege, though at the expense of severe toil, and much sickness and suffering. Both his own prestige in France and the welfare of the capital depended on his success, and he had therefore fixed himself before Meaux, to take it at whatever cost.

The greater part of the army were here encamped, together with the chief nobles, March, Somerset, Salisbury, Warwick, and likewise the King of Scots. James had for a time had the command of the army which besieged and took Dreux while Henry was elsewhere engaged, but in general he acted as a sort of volunteer aide-de-camp to his brother king, and Malcolm Stewart of Glenuskie was always with him as his squire. A great change had come over Malcolm in these last few months. His feeble sickly boyhood seemed to have been entirely cast off, and the warm genial summer sun of France to have strengthened his frame and developed his powers. He had shot up suddenly to a fair height, had almost lost his lameness, and gained much more appearance of health and power of enduring fatigue. His nerves had become less painfully sensitive, and when after his first skirmish, during which he had kept close to King James, far too much terrified to stir an inch from him, he had not only found himself perfectly safe, but had been much praised for his valour, he had been so much pleased with himself that he quite wished for another occasion of displaying his bravery; and what with use,

[blocks in formation]

PART 37.

« VorigeDoorgaan »