Chapter XXIII: Part VI (5)

The Dolphin, whom two of these writers make talk of Henry as if he were a boy, was himself in his nineteenth year, and the English king more than eight years his senior. “Hume has justly observed,” says Sir Harris Nicolas, “that the great offers made by the French monarch, however inferior to Henry’s demands, prove that it was his wish rather to appease than exasperate him; and it is almost incredible that, whilst the advisers of Charles evinced so much forbearance, his son should have offered Henry a personal insult.... It should be observed, as additional grounds for doubting that the message or gift was sent by the Dauphin, that such an act must have convinced both parties of the hopelessness of a pacific arrangement afterwards, and would, it may be imagined, have equally prevented the French court and Henry from seeking any other means of ending the dispute than by the sword. This, however, was not the case; for even supposing that the offensive communication was made on the occasion of the last, instead ... of that of the first embassy, it is certain that overtures were again sent to Henry whilst he was on his journey to the place of embarkation, and that even when there, he wrote to the French monarch with the object of adjusting his claims without a recourse to arms:” pp. 9, 12 f.

History repeats itself. Darius writes to Alexander as if he were a boy, and sends him, with other things, a ball to play with; and Alexander, in his reply to Darius, turns the tables upon the Persian king by his interpretation of the insolent gifts: Pseudo-Callisthenes, I, 36, ed. Müller, p. 40 f.[193] The parallel is close. It is not inconceivable that the English story is borrowed, but I am not prepared to maintain this.

It does not appear from any testimony external to the ballad that married men or widows’ sons had the benefit of an exemption in the levy for France, or that Cheshire, Lancashire, and Derby[194] were particularly called upon to furnish men: st. 9. The Rev. J. Endell Tyler believes the ballad to be unquestionably of ancient origin, “probably written and sung within a very few years of the expedition,” “before Henry’s death, and just after his marriage;” which granted, this stanza would have a certain interest. But, says Mr Tyler, “whether there is any foundation at all in fact for the tradition of Henry’s resolution to take with him no married man or widow’s son, the tradition itself bears such strong testimony to the general estimate of Henry’s character for bravery at once and kindness of heart that it would be unpardonable to omit every reference to it,” and he has both printed the ballad in the body of his work and placed “that golden stanza” on his title-page.[195] The question of Henry’s kindness of heart does not require to be discussed here, but it may be said in passing that there is not quite enough in this ballad to remove the impression which is ordinarily made by his conduct of the siege of Rouen.

The Battle of Agincourt was fought October 25, 1415. It is hardly necessary to say, with reference to the marching to Paris gates, that Henry had the wisdom to evacuate French ground as soon after the battle as convoy to England could be procured.

1
As our king lay musing on his bed,
He bethought himself upon a time
Of a tribute that was due from France,
Had not been paid for so long a time.
Fal, lal, etc.

2
He called for his lovely page,
His lovely page then called he,
Saying, You must go to the king of France,
To the king of France, sir, ride speedily.

3
O then went away this lovely page,
This lovely page then away went he;
And when he came to the king of France,
Low he fell down on his bended knee.

4
‘My master greets you, worthy sir;
Ten ton of gold that is due to be,
That you will send him his tribute home,
Or in French land you soon will him see.’

5
‘Your master’s young and of tender years,
Not fit to come into my degree,
And I will send him three tennis-balls,
That with them he may learn to play.’

6
O then returned this lovely page,
This lovely page then returned he,
And when he came to our gracious king,
Low he fell down on his bended knee.

7
‘What news, what news, my trusty page?
What is the news you have brought to me?’
‘I have brought such news from the king of France
That you and he will never agree.

8
‘He says you’re young and of tender years,
Not fit to come into his degree,
And he will send you three tennis-balls,
That with them you may learn to play.’

9
‘Recruit me Cheshire and Lancashire,
And Derby Hills that are so free;
No marryd man nor no widow’s son;
For no widow’s curse shall go with me.’

10
They recruited Cheshire and Lancashire,
And Derby Hills that are so free;
No marryd man, nor no widow’s son;
Yet there was a jovial bold company.

11
O then we marchd into the French land,
With drums and trumpets so merrily;
And then bespoke the king of France,
‘Lo, yonder comes proud King Henry.’

12
The first shot that the Frenchmen gave,
They killd our Englishmen so free;
We killd ten thousand of the French,
And the rest of them they ran away.

13
And then we marched to Paris gates,
With drums and trumpets so merrily:
O then bespoke the king of France,
‘The Lord have mercy on my men and me!

14
‘O I will send him his tribute home,
Ten ton of gold that is due to he,
And the finest flower that is in all France
To the Rose of England I will give free.’

* * * * *

#a.#

King Henry V. his Conquest of France, in revenge for the affront
offered him by the French king in sending him, instead of the
Tribute due, a Ton of Tennis-Balls.

Printed and sold at the Printing Office in Bow Church-Yard,
London.

1^3. due to.

#b.#

_Title the same, with omission of the first_ him _and_ due.

Printed and sold in Aldermary Church Yard, Bow Lane, London. st.

1^3. due from.

3^3. Low he came.

3^4. And when fell.

7^1. _wanting._

7^4. he and you will ne’er.

10^3. man or widow’s.

12^4. run.

#c.#

_Title as in #b#. Printed as in #b#._

1^3. due from.

3^1. away went.

3^3. Lo he.

3^4. And then he.

7^4. he and you will ne’er.

9^3. man or widow’s.

12^4. run.

#d.#

_Title as in #b#. Imprint not given._

1^3. due from.

3^3. Low he came.

3^4. And when fell.

7^4. he and you will ne’er.

9^3. man or.

12^4. run.

#e.#

2^1. Then he called on.

2^4. With a message from King Henry.

3^1. Away then went.

3^2. Away and away and away.

3^4. He fell low down.

4^2. of gold _wanting_.

4^3. And you must send him this.

4^4. you’ll soon.

5^1, 8^1. tender age.

5^2, 8^2. not meet to come in.

5^3. So I’ll send him home some.

6^{1,2,4} _as in_ 3^{1,2,4}.

7^1. my lovely.

7^2. what news bring you to me?

7^4. That I’m sure with him you’ll neer agree.

8^3. So he’s sent you here some.

9^2. that be.

9^3, 10^3. man nor widow’s.

9^4. For _wanting_.

10^{1,2}. Then they recruited Lankashire, Cheshire and Derby Hills
so free.

10^4. brave _for_ bold.

11^2, 13^2. so _wanting_.

11^3, 13^1. O then.

12^3. But we.

12^4. them were forsd to free.

13^4. Lord have mercy on [my] men and me.

14^1. send this.

14^3. fairest flower in all French land.

14^4. make free.

#f.#

“Communicated by Bertram Mitford, of Mitford Castle, in
Northumberland, who wrote it from the dictation of a very aged
relative.”

1^1. As a.

1^3. Those tributes due from the French king.

2^4. Those tributes that are due to me.

3^{1,2}, 6^{1,2}. Away, away went this lovely page, Away and away
and away went he, _nearly as in_ #e#.

4^{1,2}. My master he does greet you well, He doth greet you most
heartily.

4^3. If you don’t.

5^2, 8^2. come within.

5^4. And in French land he ne’er dare me see.

7^1. my lovely, _as in_ #e#.

7^3. from the French king.

7^4. That with him I’m sure you can ne’er agree.

8^4. And in French land you ne’er dare him see.

9^1. Go, ‘cruit me.

10^4. jovial brave, _as in_ #e#.

12^1. The first that fired it was the French.

12^4. them were forced to flee.

13^3. The first that spoke was the French king.

13^4. Lord a mercy on my poor men and me.

14^{1,2}. O go and take your tributes home, Five tons of gold I
will give thee.

14^4. in all French land, _as in_ #e#.

#f# _was clearly derived from the same source as #e#._

#g.#

_The fourth line repeated as burden._

2.
O then calld he his lovely page,
His lovely page then called he,
Who, when he came before the king,
Lo, he fell down on his bended knee.

‘Welcome, welcome, thou lovely page,
Welcome, welcome art thou here;
Go sped thee now to the king of France,
And greet us well to him so dear.

‘And when thou comst to the king of France,
And hast greeted us to him so dear,
Thou then shall ask for the tribute due,
That has not been paid for many a year.’

3^{1,2}. Away then went this lovely page, Away, away, O then went
he.

3^4. Lo, he. _Between 3 and 4_:
‘What news, what news, thou royal page?
What news, what news dost thou bring to me?’
‘I bring such news from our good king
That him and you may long agree.

4.
‘My master then does greet you well,
Does greet you well and happy here,
And asks from you the tribute due,
That has not been paid this many a year.’

6^{1,2}.
Away, away went this lovely page,
Away, away, then away went he.[196]

7^4. That he and you can ne’er agree.

_After 8_:
O then in wroth rose our noble king,
In anger great then up rose he:
‘I’ll send such balls to the king in France
As Frenchmen ne’er before did see.’

9^1. Go ‘cruit me.

10^{3,4}.
Tho no married man, nor no widow’s son,
They recruited three thousand men and three.

_Between 10 and 11_:
And when the king he did them see,
He greeted them most heartily:
‘Welcome, welcome, thou trusty band,
For thou art a jolly brave company.

‘Go now make ready our royal fleet,
Make ready soon, and get to sea;
I then will shew the king of France
When on French ground he does me see.’

And when our king to Southampton came,
There the ships for him did wait a while;
Sure such a sight was ne’er seen before,
By any one in this our isle.

Their course they then made strait for France,
With streamers gay and sails well filld;
But the grandest ship of all that went
Was that in which our good king saild.

11^{3,4}.
The Frenchmen they were so dismayd,
Such a sight they ne’er did wish to see.

12^1. The first that fired it was the French, _as in_ #f#.

13^3. The first that spoke was the French king, _as in_ #f#.

13^4. Lo yonder comes proud King Henry.

_After 13_:
‘Our loving cousin, we greet you well,
From us thou now hast naught to fear;
We seek from you our tribute due,
That has not been paid for this many a year.’

14{1,2}.
‘O go and take your tributes home,
Five tons of gold I will give to thee,’

_as in_ #f#.

14^3. And the fairest flower in all French land, _as in_ #e#, #f#.

#h.#

“The author, to whom the following Song of Agincourt has been
familiar from his childhood, cannot refrain from inserting it
here.”

1^1. musing _wanting_.

1^2. All musing at the hour of prime: “conjectural.”

1^3. He bethought him of the king of France.

1^4. And tribute due for so long a time.

2^{3,4}, 3^3. king in.

_After 2_:
Tell him to send me my tribute home,
Ten ton of gold that is due to me;
Unless he send me my tribute home,
Soon in French land I will him see.

3^{1,2}, 6^{1,2}.
Away then goes this lovely page,
As fast, as fast as he could hie.

4^2. gold is due to me.

5^3. send him home some.

7^4. That you and he can.

8^2. come up to.

8^3. He has sent you home some.

_After 8_:
Oh! then bespoke our noble king,
A solemn vow then vowed he:
I’ll promise him such English balls
As in French lands he ne’er did see.

_Cf._ #g#.

9^1. Go! call up.

9^3, 10^3. But neither ... nor.

9^4. For _wanting_.

10^1. They called up.

_After 10_:
He called unto him his merry men all,
And numbered them by three and three,
Until their number it did amount
To thirty thousand stout men and three.

_Cf._ #g# 10^{3,4}.

11^1. Away then marched they.

11^2, 13^2. and fifes.

12^1. The first that fired it was the French, _as in_ #f#, #g#.

13^1. Then marched they on to.

14^2. due from me.

14^3. the very best flower.

#i.#

_From the singing of a Yorkshire minstrel, with_ “one or two
verbal corrections” _from a modern broadside_.

2^{1,2}, 3^1, 6^1. trusty _for_ lovely.

_After 2_:
And tell him of my tribute due,
Ten ton of gold that’s due to me;
That he must send me my tribute home,
Or in French land he soon will me see.

.^2, 6^2. Away and away and away, _as in_ #e#, #f#.

_After 8_: Oh! then, etc., _as in_ #h#, _but_ tennis-balls _in
line three_.

9^1. Go call up, _as in_ #h#.

10^1. They called up, _as in_ #h#.

12^4. And the rest of them they were forced to flee, _nearly as
in_ #f#.

13^4. Lord have mercy on my poor men and me, _as in_ #f#.

14^3. And the fairest flower that is in our French land: _cf._
#e#, #f#, #g#.

14^4. shall go free, _as in_ #g#.

#j.#

_A Scottish version of the broadside from recitation of the
beginning of this century: of slight value._

1^2. On his bed lay musing he: _for the_ ee _rhyme_.

_After 2_ (_cf._ #g#, #h#, #i#):
Ye gae on to the king of France,
Ye greet him well and speedily,
And ye bid him send the tributes due,
Or in French lands he’ll soon see me.

5^3, 8^3. some tennis.

5^4. may play him merrilie.

6^1. Away, away went.

7^4. him an you.

8^4. may play fu merrilie.

9^1, 10^1. Chester and Lincolnshire.

11^2. wi drum an pipe.

12 _wanting._

13^2. wi pipe an drum.

13^4. God hae mercie on my poor men and me: _cf._ #f#, #i#.

14 _wanting._

#k.#

Received, 1886, from Mr Alexander Kirk, Inspector of Poor, Dalry,
Kirkcudbrightshire, who learned it many years ago from David
Rae, Barlay, Balmaclellan.

3^{1,2}, 6^{1,2}. Away, away ... Away, away, and away: _cf._ #e#,
#f#, #g#, #i#.

7^{3,4}. No news, no news, ... But just what my two eyes did see:
_cf._ No 114, #A# 11, #E# 10, #F# 10.

_After_ 8 (_cf._ #g#, #h#, #i#):
Go call to me my merry men all,
All by thirties and by three,
And I will send him such tennis-balls
As on French ground he did never see.

12 _wanting._

13^1. But when they came to the palace-gates.

#l.#

‘Henry V and King of France.’

2^{3,4}, 3^3. king in.

5^2. come unto.

7^4. him and you.

8^2. come to.

11^1. Then they.

13^4. Have mercy, Lord.

#m.#

‘The Two Kings.’

3, 4.
When he came to the king of France,
He fell down on his bended knee:
‘My master greets you, noble sir,
For a tribute that is due to he.’

5^2, 8^2. come to.

5^3. send him home ten.

6, 7.
When he came to our noble king,
He fell low on his bended knee:
‘What news, what news, my lovely page?
What news have ye brought unto me?’

8^3. He’s sent you hame ten.

_After 8_:
Out then spake our noble king,
A solemn vow then vowed he:
‘I shall prepare such English balls
That in French land he ne’er did see.’

9^1. You do recruit.

10^1. They did recruit.

11 _wanting._

12^4. The rest of them were forced to flee.

13^1. As we came in at the palace-gates.

13^4. Have mercy on my men and me.

14^3. The fairest flower in a’ French land.

165

SIR JOHN BUTLER

‘Sir Iohn Butler,’ Percy MS., p. 427; Hales and Furnivall, III, 205.

The subject of this ballad is the murder of a Sir John Butler at Bewsey Hall, near Warrington, Lancashire.

The story, which may be imperfect at the beginning, is that a party of men cross the moat in a leathern boat, and among them William Savage is one of the first. Sir John Butler’s daughter Ellen wakens her father and tells him that his uncle Stanley is within his hall. If that be true, says Sir John, a hundred pound will not save me. Ellen goes down into the hall, and is asked where her father is; she avers that he is ridden to London, but the men know better, and search for him. Little Holcroft loses his head in trying to keep the door of the room where Sir John is; they enter, and call on him to yield. He will yield to his uncle Stanley, but never to false Peter Legh. Ellen Butler calls for a priest; William Savage says, He shall have no priest but my sword and me. Lady Butler was at this time in London; had she been at home she might have begged her husband’s life of her good brother John. She dreams that her lord is swimming in blood, and long before day sets out for Bewsey Hall. On her way she learns that her husband is slain, and the news impels her to go back to London, where she begs of the king the death of false Peter Legh, her brother Stanley, William Savage, and all. Would ye have three men to die for one? says the king; if thou wilt come to London, thou shalt go home Lady Gray.

The papers of Roger Dodsworth,[197] the antiquarian ([198]16..), give the following account of the transaction, according to the tradition of his time. “Sir John Boteler, Knight, was slaine in his bed by the Lord Standley’s procurement, Sir Piers Leigh and Mister William Savage joininge with him in that action, curruptinge his servants, his porter settinge a light in a windowe to give knowledge upon the water that was about his house at Bewsaye, when the watch that watched about his howse at Bewsaye, where your way to ... [_i. e._ Bold] comes, were gone awaye to their owne homes; and then they came over the moate in lether boates, and soe to his chambre, where one of his servants, called Hontrost [Holcroft], was slaine, being his chamberlaine; the other brother betrayed his master. They promised him a great reward, and he going with them a way, they hanged him at a tree in Bewsaye Park. After this Sir John Boteler’s lady pursued those that slewe her husband, and indyted xx. men for that ‘saute,’ but being marryed to Lorde Gray, he made her suites voyd, for which cause she parted from her husband, the Lorde Graye, and came into Lancastershyre, and sayd, If my lord wyll not helpe me that I may have my wyll of mine enemies, yet my bodye shall be berryed by him; and she caused a tombe of alabaster to be made, where she lyeth upon the right hand of her husband, Sir John Butler.”[198]

Another paper in the same collection assumes to give the cause of the murder. “The occasion of the murther was this. The king being to come to Lathom, the Erle of Derby, his brother-in-law, sent unto hym [Sir John Butler] a messenger to desire him to wear his cloath [appear as his retainer] at that tyme; but in his absence his lady said she scorned that her husband should wayte on her brother, being as well able to entertayne the kynge as he was; which answer the erle tooke in great disdayne, and persecuted the said Sir John Butler with all the mallice that cowd be.” After mutual ill-services, they took arms one against the other, Sir Piers Legh and William Savage siding with the earl, and in the end these three corrupted Sir John Butler’s servants and murdered him in his bed. “Hys lady, at that instant being in London, did dreame the same night that he was slayne, that Bewsaye Hall did swym with blood; whereupon she presently came homewards, and heard by the way the report of his death.”[199]

Sir John Boteler, son of Sir John, born in 1429, married for his third wife Margaret Stanley, widow of Sir Thomas Troutbeck, daughter of Thomas first Lord Stanley, and sister of Thomas the second lord, whom Dodsworth calls by anticipation Earl of Derby, which he was not until 1485. Sir John Boteler had by his first wife four daughters, but no Ellen; by Margaret Stanley he had a son Thomas, born in 1461. He died in 1463, and his wife afterwards married for her third husband Henry Lord Grey of Codnor.

According to st. 23 of the ballad, Dame Margaret’s brother Stanley, that is Lord Thomas, is directly concerned in the murder which in the Dodsworth story he is said only to have procured. But an uncle Stanley appears to be a prominent member of the hostile party in sts 5, 12; how, we cannot explain. A ‘good’ brother John is mentioned in st. 15, of whom Lady Butler might have begged her husband’s life, and who must, therefore, have been present. Lady Butler had a brother John. But the alleged participation of Sir Peter Legh and William Savage in this murder, perpetrated in 1463, is an impossibility. Sir Peter Legh was born in 1455, and was only eight years old at that time, and William Savage, nephew of Lord Thomas Stanley, was also a mere child. As to the part ascribed to Lord Thomas Stanley, Sir Thomas Butler, the son of Sir John, is said to have lived on the most friendly terms with him in after days, and to have limited “an estate in remainder, after the limitation to himself and his heirs, to the Earl of Derby in fee,” which we can hardly suppose he would have done if the earl had been his father’s murderer.

The occasion of the murder is represented in the tradition reported by Dodsworth to have been Sir John Butler’s refusal (through his wife) to wear the Earl of Derby’s livery at the time of the king’s coming to Lathom. The king (Henry VII) did indeed come to Lathom, but not until the year 1495, thirty-two years after Sir John’s death, and three years after that of his wife. It is true that other accounts make Sir Thomas, the son of Sir John, to have been the victim of the murder; but Sir Thomas died in 1522, and the Earl of Derby in 1504.[200] There is not, as Dr. Robson says, a tittle of evidence to show that there was any murder at all, whether of Sir John or any other of the Butler family. But it was an unquiet time, and the conjecture has been offered “that, being a consistent Lancastrian,” Sir John “may have incurred some Yorkist resentments, and have been sacrificed by a confederacy of some of those who, though his private friends, were his political enemies.”[201]

Sir John Butler, son of Sir John, is of course the only person that the ballad and the parallel tradition can intend, for Margaret Stanley was the only Stanley that ever married a Butler, and Margaret Stanley’s third husband was Lord Grey of Codnor. But Sir John the elder, who died in 1430, had a daughter Ellen, “old enough to raise an alarm when her father was attacked, while he was actually nephew by marriage to the second Sir John Stanley of Lathom, who survived him.” (If we might proceed according to established mythological rules, and transfer to the son what is told of the father, we might account for the “uncle Stanley” and the Ellen of the ballad.) Sir John the senior’s widow, Lady Isabella, was in 1437 violently carried off and forced into marriage by one William Poole, and her petition to Parliament for redress calls this Poole an outlaw “for felony for man’s death by him murdered and slain.” It has been thought a not overstrained presumption that this language may refer to the death of Lady Isabella’s husband, the earlier Sir John, though it would be strange, if such were the reference, that no name should be given.[202]

The Bewsey murder has been narrated, with the variations of later tradition, by John Fitchett in ‘Bewsey, a Poem,’ Warrington, 1796; in a ballad by John Roby, Traditions of Lancashire, 1879, II, 72; and in another ballad in Ballads and Songs of Lancashire, Harland and Wilkinson, 1882, p. 13 (at p. 15 Fitchett’s verses are cited). See also Dr Robson, in the preface to the Percy ballad, p. 208, and Beamont, Annals of the Lords of Warrington, p. 318.

1
But word is come to Warrington,
And Busye Hall is laid about;
S_i_r Iohn Butler and his merry men
Stand in ffull great doubt.

2
When they came to Busye Hall
Itt was the merke midnight,
And all the bridges were vp drawen,
And neuer a candle-light.

3
There they made them one good boate,
All of one good bull skinn;
Will_iam_ Sauage was one of the ffirst
_Tha_t euer came itt w_i_thin.

4
Hee sayled ore his merrymen,
By two and two together,
And said itt was as good a bote
As ere was made of lether.

5
‘Waken you, waken you, deare ffather!
God waken you w_i_thin!
For heere is yo_u_r vnckle Standlye
Come yo_u_r hall w_i_thin.’

6
‘If _tha_t be true, Ellen Butler,
These tydings you tell mee,
A hundred pound in good redd gold
This night will not borrow mee.’

7
Then came downe Ellen Butler
And into her ffathers hall,
And then came downe Ellen Butler,
And shee was laced in pall.

8
‘Where is thy ffather, Ellen Butler?
Haue done, and tell itt mee:’
‘My ffather is now to London ridden,
As Christ shall haue p_ar_t of mee.’

9
‘Now nay, now nay, Ellen Butler,
Ffor soe itt must not bee;
Ffor ere I goe fforth of this hall,
Yo_u_r ffather I must see.’

10
The sought _tha_t hall then vp and downe
Theras Iohn Butler lay;
The sought _tha_t hall then vp and downe
Theras Iohn Butler lay.

11
Ffaire him ffall, litle Holcrofft!
Soe merrilye he kept the dore,
Till _tha_t his head ffrom his shoulders
Came tumbling downe the ffloore.

12
‘Yeeld thee, yeelde thee, Iohn Butler!
Yeelde thee now to mee!’
‘I will yeelde me to my vnckle Stanlye,
And neere to ffalse Peeter Lee.’

13
‘A preist, a preist,’ saies Ellen Butler,
‘To housle and to shriue!
A preist, a preist,’ sais Ellen Butler,
‘While _tha_t my father is a man aliue!’

14
Then bespake him Will_iam_ Sauage,
A shames death may hee dye!
Sayes, He shall haue no other preist
But my bright sword and mee.

15
The Ladye Butler is to London rydden,
Shee had better haue beene att home;
Shee might haue beggd her owne marryed lo_rd_
Att her good brother Iohn.

16
And as shee lay in leeue London,
And as shee lay in her bedd,
Shee dreamed her owne marryed lo_rd_
Was swiminnge in blood soe red.

17
Shee called vp her merry men all,
Long ere itt was day;
Saies, Wee must ryde to Busye Hall,
W_i_th all speed _tha_t wee may.

18
Shee mett w_i_th three Kendall men,
Were ryding by the way:
‘Tydings, tydings, Kendall men,
I pray you tell itt mee!’

19
‘Heauy tydings, deare madam;
Ffrom you wee will not leane;
The worthyest k_night_ in merry England,
Iohn Butler, Lord! hee is slaine!’

20
‘Ffarewell, ffarwell, Iohn Butler!
Ffor thee I must neuer see:
Ffarewell, ffarwell, Busiye Hall!
For thee I will neu_er_ come nye.’

21
Now Ladye Butler is to London againe,
In all the speed might bee,
And when shee came before her prince,
Shee kneeled low downe on her knee.

22
‘A boone, a boone, my leege!’ shee sayes,
‘Ffor Gods loue grant itt mee!’
‘What is thy boone, Lady Butler?
Or what wold thou haue of mee?

23
‘What is thy boone, Lady Butler?
Or what wold thou haue of mee?’
‘_Tha_t ffalse Peeres of Lee, and my brother Stanley,
And Will_iam_ Sauage, and all, may dye.’

24
‘Come you hither, Lady Butler,
Come you ower this stone;
Wold you haue three men ffor to dye,
All ffor the losse off one?

25
‘Come you hither, Lady Butler,
With all the speed you may;
If thou wilt come to London, La_dy_ Butler,
Thou shalt goe home Lady Gray.’

* * * * *

2^2. merke _may be_ merle _in the MS.: Furnivall_.

4^2. 2 and 2.

6^3. a 100[li .].

7^1. them _for_ Then.

10^{1,2}. _These two lines only are in the MS., but they are
marked with a bracket and bis: Furnivall._

18^1, 24^3. 3.

22^{3,4}. _These two lines are bracketed, and marked bis in the
MS.: Furnivall._

166

THE ROSE OF ENGLAND

‘The Rose of Englande,’ Percy MS., p. 423; Hales and Furnivall, III,
187.

The title of this ballad, as Percy notes in his manuscript, is quoted in Fletcher’s Monsieur Thomas (printed in 1639), act third, scene third, Dyce, VII, 364. The subject is the winning of the crown of England from Richard III by Henry VII, and the parties on both sides, though some of them are sometimes called by their proper names, are mostly indicated by their badges or cognizances,[203] which were perfectly familiar, so that though there is a “perpetual allegory,” it is not a “dark conceit.”

The red rose of Lancaster was rooted up by a boar, Richard, who was generally believed to have murdered Henry VI and his son Edward, the Prince of Wales; but the seed of the rose, the Earl of Richmond, afterwards wore the crown. The sixth stanza gives us to understand that the young Earl of Richmond was under the protection of Lord Stanley at Lathom before his uncle, the Earl of Pembroke, fled with him to Brittany, in 1471; but this does not appear in the histories. The Earl of Richmond came back to claim his right (in 1485), and brought with him the blue boar, the Earl of Oxford, to encounter, with Richard, the white boar. Richmond sends a messenger to the old eagle, Lord Stanley, his stepfather, to announce his arrival; Stanley thanks God, and hopes that the rose shall flourish again. The Welshmen rise in a mass under Rice ap Thomas and shog on to Shrewsbury. Master Mitton, bailiff of Shrewsbury, refuses at first to let Richmond enter, but, upon receiving letters from Sir William Stanley of Holt Castle, opens the gates. The Earl of Oxford is about to smite off the bailiff’s head; Richmond interferes, and asks Mitton why he was kept out. The bailiff knows no king but him that wears the crown; if Richmond shall put down Richard, he will, when sworn, be as true to Richmond as to Richard now. Richmond recognizes this as genuine loyalty, and will not have the bailiff harmed. The earl moves on to Newport, and then has a private meeting at Atherstone with Lord Stanley, who makes great moan because the young eagle, Lord Strange, his eldest son, is a hostage in the hands of the white boar. At the battle Oxford has the van; Lord Stanley follows ‘fast’! The Talbot-dog (Sir Gilbert Talbot) bites sore; the unicorn (Sir John Savage) quits himself well; then comes in the hart’s head (Sir William Stanley), the field is fought, the white boar slain, and the young eagle saved as by fire.[204]

How the Earl of Richmond compassed the crown of England is told at more length in two histories in the ballad-stanza, ‘Bosworth Field’ and ‘Lady Bessy.’ The first of these (656 verses) occurs only in the Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, III, 235. It is on the whole a tame performance. Richmond is kept quite subordinate to the Stanleys, kneeling to Sir William, v. 371, and “desiring” the van of Lord Stanley, who grants his request, 449–51. The second exists in two versions: (1) Harleian MS. 367, printed by Mr Halliwell-Phillipps, Percy Society, vol. xx, 1847, p. 43, and Palatine Anthology, 1850, p. 60; Percy MS., Hales and Furnivall, III, 321 (each of about 1100 verses); (2) Percy Society and Palatine Anthology again, p. 1, p. 6, and previously by Thomas Heywood, 1829 (about 1250 vv). In this second poem the love, ambition, and energy of Elizabeth of York sets all the instruments at work, and the Stanleys are not so extravagantly prominent. It is a remarkably lively narrative, with many curious details, and in its original form (which we cannot suppose we have) must have been nearly contemporary. ‘Bosworth Field’ borrows some verses from it.

17^2, 22^4. This affirmation of the trustworthiness of the chronicle occurs in ‘The Battle of Otterburn,’ No 161, 35^2, and again in ‘Flodden Field,’ No 178, appendix, 121^4.

1
Throughout a garden greene and gay,
A seemlye sight itt was to see
How fflowers did flourish fresh and gay,
And birds doe sing melodiouslye.

2
In the midst of a garden there sprange a tree,
W_hi_ch tree was of a mickle price,
And there vppon sprang the rose soe redd,
The goodlyest _tha_t euer sprange on rise.

3
This rose was ffaire, ffresh to behold,
Springing w_i_th many a royall lance;
A crowned king, w_i_th a crowne of gold,
Ouer England, Ireland, and of Ffrance.

4
Then came in a beast men call a bore,
And he rooted this garden vpp and downe;
By the seede of the rose he sett noe store,
But afterwards itt wore the crowne.

5
Hee tooke the branches of this rose away,
And all in sunder did them teare,
And he buryed them vnder a clodd of clay,
Swore they shold neu_er_ bloome nor beare.

6
Then came in an egle gleaming gay,
Of all ffaire birds well worth the best;
He took the branche of the rose away,
And bore itt to Latham to his nest.

7
But now is this rose out of England exiled,
This certaine truth I will not laine;
But if itt please you to sitt a while,
I’le tell you how the rose came in againe.

8
Att Milford Hauen he entered in;
To claime his right, was his delight;
He brought the blew bore in w_i_th him,
To encounter w_i_th the bore soe white.

9
The[n] a messenger the rose did send
To the egles nest, and bidd him hye:
‘To my ffather, the old egle, I doe [me] commend,
His aide and helpe I craue speedylye.’

10
Saies, I desire my father att my cominge
Of men and mony att my need,
And alsoe my mother of her deer blessing;
The better then I hope to speede.

11
And when the messenger came before thold egle,
He kneeled him downe vpon his knee;
Saith, Well greeteth you my lo_rd_ the rose,
He hath sent you greetings here by me.

12
Safe ffrom the seas Christ hath him sent,
Now he is entered England w_i_thin:
‘Let vs thanke God,’ the old egle did say,
‘He shall be the fflower of all his kine.

13
‘Wend away, messenger, w_i_th might and maine;
Itt’s hard to know who a man may trust;
I hope the rose shall fflourish againe,
And haue all things att his owne lust.’

14
Then S_i_r Rice ap Thomas drawes Wales w_i_th him;
A worthy sight itt was to see,
How the Welchmen rose wholy w_i_th him,
And shogged them to Shrewsburye.

15
Att _tha_t time was baylye in Shrewsburye
One M_aster_ Mitton, in the towne;
The gates were strong, and he mad them ffast,
And the portcullis he lett downe.

16
And throug a garrett of the walls,
Ouer Severne these words said hee;
‘Att these gates no man enter shall;’
But he kept him out a night and a day.

17
These words Mitton did Erle Richmond tell
(I am sure the chronicles of this will not lye);
But when l_ett_res came from S_i_r W_illia_m Stanley of the Holt
castle,
Then the gates were opened p_re_sentlye.

18
Then entred this towne the noble lord,
The Erle Richmond, the rose soe redd;
The Erle of Oxford, w_i_th a sword,
Wold haue smitt of the bailiffes head.

19
‘But hold yo_u_r hand,’ saies Erle Richmond,
‘Ffor his loue _tha_t dyed vpon a tree!
Ffor if wee begin to head so soone,
In England wee shall beare no degree.’

20
‘What offence haue I made thee,’ sayd Erle Richmonde,
‘_Tha_t thou kept me out of my towne?’
‘I know no king,’ sayd Mitton then,
‘But Rich_ard_ now, _tha_t weares the crowne.’

21
‘Why, what wilt tho_u_ say,’ said Erle Richmonde,
‘When I haue put K_ing_ Richard downe?’
‘Why, then Ile be as true to you, my lo_rd_,
After the time _tha_t I am sworne.’

22
‘Were itt not great pitty,’ sayd Erle Richmond,
‘_Tha_t such a man as this shold dye,
Such loyall service by him done?
(The cronickles of this will not lye.)

23
‘Thou shalt not be harmed in any case;’
He p_ar_done[d] him p_re_sentlye;
They stayd not past a night and a day,
But towards Newp_or_t did they hye.

24
But [at] Attherston these lords did meete;
A worthy sight itt was to see,
How Erle Richmond tooke his hatt in his hand,
And said, Cheshire and Lancashire, welcome to me!

25
But now is a bird of the egle taken;
Ffrom the white bore he cannot fflee;
Therfore the old egle makes great moane,
And prayes to God most certainly.

26
‘O stedfast God, verament,’ he did say,
‘Thre p_er_sons in one god in Trinytye,
Saue my sonne, the young egle, this day
Ffrom all ffalse craft and trecherye!’

27
Then the blew bore the vanward had;
He was both warry and wise of witt;
The right hand of them he tooke,
The sunn and wind of them to gett.

28
Then the egle ffollowed fast vpon his pray,
W_i_th sore dints he did them smyte;
The talbott he bitt wonderous sore,
Soe well the vnicorne did him quite.

29
And then came in the harts head;
A worthy sight itt was to see,
The iacketts _tha_t were of white and redd,
How they laid about them lustilye.

30
But now is the ffeirce ffeeld foughten and ended,
And the white bore there lyeth slaine,
And the young egle is p_re_serued,
And come to his nest againe.

31
But now this garden fflourishes ffreshly and gay,
W_i_th ffragrant fflowers comely of hew,
And gardners itt doth maintaine;
I hope they will proue iust and true.

32
Our k_ing_, he is the rose soe redd,
_Tha_t now does fflourish ffresh and gay:
Confound his ffoes, Lo_rd_, wee beseeche,
And loue His Grace both night and day!

* * * * *

10^4. Then better.

12^1. him _is apparently altered from_ mim _in the MS.:
Furnivall_.

14^4. shogged him.

17^3. cane _for_ came.

26^2. 3.

29^3. They.

167

SIR ANDREW BARTON

#A.# ‘S_i_r Andrew Bartton,’ Percy MS. p. 490; Hales and Furnivall,
III, 399.

#B.# ‘The Life and Death of Sir Andrew Barton,’ etc. #a.# Douce
Ballads, I, 18 b. #b.# Pepys Ballads, I, 484, No 249. #c.# Wood
Ballads, 401, 55. #d.# Roxburghe Ballads, I, 2; reprinted by the
Ballad Society, I, 10. #e.# Bagford Ballads, 643, m. 9. (61). #f.#
Bagford Ballads, 643, m. 10 (77). #g.# Wood Ballads, 402, 37. #h.#
‘Sir Andrew Barton,’ Glenriddell MSS, XI, 20.

Given in Old Ballads, 1723, I, 159; in Percy’s Reliques, 1765, II, 177, a copy made up from the Folio MS. and #B b#, with editorial emendations; Ritson’s Select Collection of English Songs, 1783, I, 313. #B f# is reprinted by Halliwell, Early Naval Ballads, Percy Society, vol. ii, p. 4, 1841; by Moore, Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry, p. 256, 1853. There is a Bow-Churchyard copy, of no value, in the Roxburghe collection, III, 726, 727, dated in the Museum catalogue 1710.

A collation of #A# and #B# will show how ballads were retrenched and marred in the process of preparing them for the vulgar press.[205] #B a-g# clearly lack two stanzas after 11 (12, 13, of #A#). This omission is perhaps to be attributed to careless printing rather than to reckless cutting down, for the stanzas wanted are found in #h#. #h# is a transcript, apparently from recitation or dictation, of a Scottish broadside. It has but fifty-six stanzas, against the sixty-four of #B a# and the eighty-two of #A#, and is extremely corrupted. Besides the two stanzas not found in the English broadside, it has one more, after 50, which is perhaps borrowed from ‘Adam Bell’:

‘Foul fa the hands,’ says Horsley then,
‘This day that did that coat put on;
For had it been as thin as mine,
Thy last days had been at an end.’[206]

#A# has a regrettable gap after 35, and is corrupted at 29^2[207], 47^2.

In the year 1476 a Portuguese squadron seized a richly loaded ship commanded by John Barton, in consequence of which letters of reprisal were granted to Andrew, Robert, and John Barton, sons of John, and these letters were renewed in 1506,[208] “as no opportunity had occurred of effectuating a retaliation;” that is to say, as the Scots, up to the later date, had not been supplied with the proper vessels. The king of Portugal remonstrated against reprisals for so old an offence, but he had put himself in the wrong four years before by refusing to deal with a herald sent by the Scottish king for the arrangement of the matter in dispute. It is probable that there was justice on the Scottish side, “yet there is some reason to believe that the Bartons abused the royal favor, and the distance and impunity of the sea, to convert this retaliation into a kind of piracy against the Portuguese trade, at that time, by the discoveries and acquisitions in India, rendered the richest in the world.” All three of the brothers were men of note in the naval history of Scotland. Andrew is called Sir Andrew, perhaps, in imitation of Sir Andrew Wood; but his brother attained to be called Sir Robert.[209]

We may now hear what the writers who are nearest to the time have to say of the subject-matter of our ballad.

Hall’s Chronicle, 1548. In June [1511], the king being at Leicester, tidings were brought to him that Andrew Barton, a Scottish man and a pirate of the sea, saying that the king of Scots had war with the Portingales, did rob every nation, and so stopped the king’s streams that no merchants almost could pass, and when he took the Englishmen’s goods, he said they were Portingales’ goods, and thus he haunted and robbed at every haven’s mouth. The king, moved greatly with this crafty pirate, sent Sir Edmund Howard, Lord Admiral of England,[210] and Lord Thomas Howard, son and heir to the Earl of Surrey, in all the haste to the sea, which hastily made ready two ships, and without any more abode took the sea, and by chance of weather were severed. The Lord Howard, lying in the Downs, perceived where Andrew was making toward Scotland, and so fast the said lord chased him that he overtook him, and there was a sore battle. The Englishmen were fierce, and the Scots defended them manfully, and ever Andrew blew his whistle to encourage his men, yet for all that, the Lord Howard and his men, by clean strength, entered the main deck; then the Englishmen entered on all sides, and the Scots fought sore on the hatches, but in conclusion Andrew was taken, which was so sore wounded that he died there; then all the remnant of the Scots were taken, with their ship, called The Lion. All this while was the Lord Admiral in chase of the bark of Scotland called Jenny Pirwyn, which was wont to sail with The Lion in company, and so much did he with other that he laid him on board and fiercely assailed him, and the Scots, as hardy and well stomached men, them defended; but the Lord Admiral so encouraged his men that they entered the bark and slew many, and took all the other. Then were these two ships taken, and brought to Blackwall the second day of August, and all the Scots were sent to the Bishop’s place of York, and there remained, at the king’s charge, till other direction was taken for them. [They were released upon their owning that they deserved death for piracy, and appealing to the king’s mercy, says Hall.] The king of Scots, hearing of the death of Andrew of Barton and taking of his two ships, was wonderful wroth, and sent letters to the king requiring restitution according to the league and amity. The king wrote with brotherly salutations to the king of Scots of the robberies and evil doings of Andrew Barton, and that it became not one prince to lay a breach of a league to another prince in doing justice upon a pirate or thief, and that all the other Scots that were taken had deserved to die by justice if he had not extended his mercy. (Ed. of 1809, p. 525.)

Buchanan, about twenty years later, writes to this effect. Andrew Breton[211] was a Scots trader whose father had been cruelly put to death by the Portuguese, after they had plundered his ship. This outrage was committed within the dominion of Flanders, and the Flemish admiralty, upon suit of the son, gave judgment against the Portuguese; but the offending parties would not pay the indemnity, nor would their king compel them, though the king of Scots sent a herald to make the demand. The Scot procured from his master a letter of marque, to warrant him against charges of piracy and freebooting while prosecuting open war against the Portuguese for their violation of the law of nations, and in the course of a few months inflicted great loss on them. Portuguese envoys went to the English king and told him that this Andrew was a man of such courage and enterprise as would make him a dangerous enemy in the war then impending with the French, and that he could now be conveniently cut off, under cover of piracy, to the advantage of English subjects and the gratification of a friendly sovereign. Henry was easily persuaded, and dispatched his admiral, Thomas Howard,[212] with two of the strongest ships of the royal navy, to lie in wait at the Downs for Andrew, then on his way home from Flanders. They soon had sight of the Scot, in a small vessel, with a still smaller in company. Howard attacked Andrew’s ship, but, though the superior in all respects, was barely able to take it after the master and most of his men had been killed. The Scots captain, though several times wounded and with one leg broken by a cannon-ball, seized a drum and beat a charge to inspirit his men to fight until breath and life failed. The smaller ship was surrendered with less resistance, and the survivors of both vessels, by begging their lives of the king (as they were instructed to do by the English), obtained a discharge without punishment. The Scottish king made formal complaint of this breach of peace, but the answer was ready: the killing of pirates broke no leagues and furnished no decent ground for war. (Rer. Scot. Historia, 1582, fol. 149 b, 150.)

Bishop Lesley, writing at about the same time as Buchanan, openly accuses the English of fraud. “In the month of June,” he says, “Andrew Barton, being on the sea in warfare contrar the Portingals, against whom he had a letter of mark, Sir Edmund Howard, Lord Admiral of England, and Lord Thomas Howard, son and heir to the Earl of Surrey, past forth at the king of England’s command, with certain of his best ships; and the said Andrew, being in his voyage sailing toward Scotland, having only but one ship and a bark, they set upon at the Downs, and at the first entry did make sign unto them that there was friendship standing betwix the two realms, and therefore thought them to be friends; wherewith they, nothing moved, did cruelly invade, and he manfully and courageously defended, where there was many slain, and Andrew himself sore wounded, that he died shortly; and his ship, called The Lion, and the bark, called Jenny Pirrvyne, which, with the Scots men that was living, were had to London, and kept there as prisoners in the Bishop of Yorks house, and after was sent home in Scotland. When that the knowledge hereof came to the king, he sent incontinent a herald to the king of England, with letters requiring dress for the slaughter of Andrew Barton, with the ships to be rendered again; otherwise it might be an occasion to break the league and peace contracted between them. To the which it was answered by the king of England that the slaughter being a pirate, as he alleged, should be no break to the peace; yet not the less he should cause commissioners meet upon the borders, where they should treat upon that and all other enormities betwix the two realms.”[213] (History of Scotland, Edinburgh, 1830, p. 82 f.)

The ballad displaces Sir Thomas and Sir Edward Howard, and puts in their place Lord Charles Howard, who was not born till twenty-five years after the fight. Lord Charles Howard, son of William, a younger half-brother of Thomas and Edward, was, in his time, like them, Lord High Admiral, and had the honor of commanding the fleet which served against the Armada. He was created Earl of Nottingham in 1596, and this circumstance, adopted into #A# 78,[214] puts this excellent ballad later than one would have said, unless, as is quite possible, the name of the English commander has been changed. There is but one ship in the ballad, as there is but a single captain, but Henry Hunt makes up for the other when we come to the engagement. The dates are much deranged in #A#. The merchants make their complaint at midsummer, the summer solstice (in May, #B# 1), and here there is agreement with Hall and Lesley. The English ship sails the day before midsummer-even, #A# 17; the fight occurs not more than four days after (#A# 18, 33, 34; #B# 16, 31); four days is a large allowance for returning, but the ship sails into Thames mouth on the day before New Year’s even, #A# 71, 72, 74.[215] In #B# the English do not sail till winter, and although the interval from May is long for fitting out a ship, inconsistency is avoided. According to Hall, the English ships brought in their prizes August 2d.