04 May is in May.
On 04 May 1312 King Edward II of England (28) and Piers Gaveston 1st Earl Cornwall 1284-1312 (28) were at Newcastle on Tyne Castle Newcastle on Tyne where they barely escaped a force led by Thomas Plantagenet 2nd Earl of Leicester 2nd Earl Lancaster 5th Earl Salisbury 4th Earl Lincoln 1278-1322 (34), Henry Percy 1st Baron Percy 1273-1314 (39) and Robert Clifford 1st Baron Clifford 1274-1314 (38). Piers Gaveston 1st Earl Cornwall 1284-1312 (28) escaped to Scarborough, King Edward II of England (28) to York.
Patent Rolls Edward IV 1461. 04 May 1461. Westminster Palace. Grant for life to the king's (19) kinsman George (29), bishop of Exeter, from Easter last of the custody of the king's manor manor or lordship of Chiltern Langley, with mills, rents, vert and other profits, excepting 250 rabbits yearly for the king's hosehold, at a yearly rent of 50 marks 20d as formerly and 6s 8d besides; with acquittance of repairs and alloanc for any annuity granted out of the manor. By K (19).
On 04 May 1471 Edward IV King England 1442-1483 (29) was victorious at the Battle of Tewkesbury. His brother Richard (18), Richard Beauchamp 2nd Baron Beauchamp Powick 1435-1503 (36), John Howard 1st Duke Norfolk 1425-1485 (46), George Neville 4th Baron Bergavenny 1440-1492 (31), John Savage 1422-1495 (49), John Savage 1444-1492, Thomas St Leger 1440-1483 (31), John Tuchet 6th Baron Audley Heighley 3rd Baron Tuchet 1426-1490 (45), Thomas Burgh 1st Baron Burgh 1431-1496 (40) fought. William Brandon 1425-1491 (46), George Browne 1440-1483 (31), Ralph Hastings -1495, Richard Hastings Baron Willoughby Eresby 1433-1503 (38), James Tyrrell 1455-1502 (16), Roger Kynaston of Myddle and Hordley 1433-1495 (38) were knighted. William Hastings 1st Baron Hastings 1431-1483 (40) commanded.
Margaret of Anjou (41) was captured. Her son Edward of Westinster Prince of Wales 1453-1471 (17) was killed. He was the last of the Lancastrian line excluding the illegitmate Charles Somerset 1st Earl Worcester 1460-1526 (11) whose line continues to the present.
John Courtenay 15th Earl Devon 1435-1471 (36), John Wenlock 1st Baron Wenlock 1400-1471, Humphrey Tuchet 1434-1471 and John Beaufort 1441-1471 were killed.
Edmund Beaufort 3rd Duke Somerset 1439-1471 and Hugh Courtenay 1427-1471 were captured.
William Vaux of Harrowden 1436-1471 (35) was killed.
On 04 May 1483 George Neville 1st Duke Bedford 1461-1483 (22) died. He being the son of John Neville 1st Marquess Montagu 1431-1471, the nephew of Warwick the Kingmaker who should, perhaps, have inherited the Earldoms of Warwick and Salisbury from his mother that had been appropriated by George Neville 1st Duke Bedford 1461-1483 (22) and Richard III King England 1452-1485 (30). The timing somewhat suspicious. The future Richard III would now enjoy the whole of the Warwick inheritance.
The History of King Richard the Third. But then, by and by, the lords assembled together at London. To ward which meeting, the Archbishop of York (59), fearing that it would be ascribed (as it was indeed) to his overmuch lightness that he so suddenly had yielded up the Great Seal to the Queen—to whom the custody thereof nothing pertained without special commandment of the King—secretly sent for the Seal again and brought it with him after the customary manner. And at this meeting, the Duke of Buckingham, whose loyalty toward the King no man doubted nor needed to doubt, persuaded the lords to believe that the Duke of Gloucester (30) was sure and fastly faithful to his Prince and that the Lord Rivers (43) and Lord Richard (26) with the other knights were, for matters attempted by them against the Dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham, put under arrest for the dukes' safety not for the King's jeopardy and that they were also in safeguard and should remain there no longer till the matter were, not by the dukes only but also by all the other lords of the King's Council indifferently examined and by other discretions ordered, and either judged or appeased. But one thing he advised them beware, that they judged not the matter too far forth before they knew the truth—for by turning their private grudges into the common hurt, irritating and provoking men unto anger, and disturbing the King's coronation, toward which the dukes were coming up, they might perhaps bring the matter so far out of joint, that it should never be brought in frame again. This strife, if it should happen to come to battle, as it was likely, though both parties were in all things equal, yet should the authority be on that side where the King is himself.
With these arguments of the Duke of Buckingham — part of which he believed; part, he knew the contrary — these commotions were somewhat appeased, but especially because the Dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham (28) were so near, and came so quickly on with the King, in none other manner, with none other voice or semblance, than to his coronation, causing the story to be blown about that those lords and knights who were taken had contrived the destruction of the Dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham (28) and of other noble blood of the realm, to the end that they themselves would alone manage and govern the King at their pleasure. And for the false proof thereof, some of the dukes' servants rode with the carts of the stuff that were taken (among such stuff, no marvel, but that some of it were armor, which, at the breaking up of that household, must needs either be brought away or cast away), and they showed it unto the people all the way as they went: "Lo, here be the barrels of armor that these traitors had privately conveyed in their carriage to destroy the noble lords withal." This device, although it made the matter to wise men more unlikely, who well perceived that, if the intenders meant war, they would rather have had their armor on their backs than to have bound them up in barrels, yet much part of the common people were therewith very well satisfied, and said it were like giving alms to hang them.
When the King approached near to the city, Edmund Shaa, goldsmith then mayor, with William White and John Mathew, sheriffs, and all the other aldermen in scarlet, with five hundred horse of the citizens in violet, received him reverently at Hornsey, and riding from thence, accompanied him in to the city, which he entered the fourth day of May, the first and last year of his reign.
But the Duke of Gloucester bore himself in open sight so reverently to the Prince, with all semblance of lowliness, that from the great obloquy in which he was so late before, he was suddenly fallen in so great trust, that at the Council next assembled, he was the only man chosen and thought most suitable to be Protector (30) of the King and his realm, so that—were it destiny or were it folly—the lamb was given to the wolf to keep. At which Council also the Archbishop of York (59), Chancellor of England, who had delivered up the Great Seal to the Queen (46), was thereof greatly reproved, and the Seal taken from him and delivered to Doctor Russell, Bishop of Lincoln, a wise man and good and of much experience, and one of the best learned men undoubtedly that England had in his time. Diverse lords and knights were appointed unto diverse offices. The Lord Chamberlain and some others kept still their offices that they had before.
Now all was such that the Protector (30) so sore thirsted for the finishing of what he had begun—though he thought every day a year till it were achieved—yet he dared no further attempt as long as he had but half his prey in hand, well knowing that if he deposed the one brother, all the realm would fall to the other, if he either remained in sanctuary or should by chance be shortly conveyed farther away to his liberty.
Wherefore straight away at the next meeting of the lords at the Council, he proposed unto them that it was a heinous deed of the Queen (46), and proceeding from great malice toward the King's counselors, that she should keep in sanctuary the King's brother from him, whose special pleasure and comfort were to have his brother with him. And that by her such was done to no other intent, but to bring all the lords in obloquy and murmur of the people, as though they were not to be trusted with the King's brother—they who were, by the assent of the nobles of the land, appointed as the King's nearest friends for the protection of his own royal person.
"The prosperity whereof stands," said he, "not all in keeping from enemies or ill viands, [poison?] but partly also in recreation and moderate pleasure, which he cannot in this tender youth take in the company of elder persons, but in the familiar conversation of those who be neither far under nor far above his age, and nevertheless of state appropriate to accompany his noble majesty. Wherefore with whom rather than with his own brother? And if any man think this consideration light (which I think no man thinks who loves the King), let him consider that sometimes without small things, greater cannot stand. And verily it redounds greatly to the dishonor both of the King's Highness and of all us that have been about his Grace, to have it run in every man's mouth, not in this realm only, but also in other lands (as evil words walk far), that the King's brother should be glad to keep sanctuary. For every man will suppose that no man will so do for nothing. And such evil opinion, once fastened in men's hearts, hard it is to wrest out, and may grow to more grief than any man here can divine.
"Wherefore I think it were not worst to send unto the Queen (46) for the redress of this matter some honorable trusty man, such as both values the King's welfare and the honor of his Council, and is also in favor and credible with her. For all which considerations, none seems to me more suitable than our reverent father here present, my Lord Cardinal (65), who may in this matter do most good of any man, if it please him to take the pain. Which I doubt not of his goodness he will not refuse, for the King's sake and ours, and the well being of the young Duke himself, the King's most honorable brother, and after my Sovereign Lord himself, my most dear nephew, considering that thereby shall be ceased the slanderous rumor and obloquy now going about, and the hurts avoided that thereof might ensue, and much rest and quiet grow to all the realm.
"And if she be perchance so obstinate, and so precisely set upon her own will that neither his wise and faithful instruction can move her, nor any man's reason content her, then shall we, by mine advice, by the King's authority, fetch him out of that prison, and bring him to his noble presence, in whose continual company he shall be so well cherished and so honorably treated that all the world shall to our honor, and her reproach, perceive that it was only malice, audacity, or folly, that caused her to keep him there. This is my mind in this matter for this time, except any of your lordships anything perceive to the contrary. For never shall I by God's grace so wed myself to mine own will, but that I shall be ready to change it upon your better advice."
When the Protector (30) had spoken, all the Council affirmed that the motion was good and reasonable, and to the King and the Duke his brother, honorable, and a thing that should cease great murmur in the realm, if the mother might be by good means induced to deliver him. Such a thing the Archbishop of Canterbury (65), whom they all agreed also to be thereto most appropriate, took upon himself to move her, and therein to give his uttermost best effort. However, if she could be in no way entreated with her good will to deliver him, then thought he and such others as were of the clergy present that it were not in any way to be attempted to take him out against her will. For it would be a thing that should turn to the great grudge of all men, and high displeasure of God, if the privilege of the holy place should now be broken, which had so many years been kept, and which both king and popes so good had granted, so many had confirmed, and which holy ground was more than five hundred years ago by Saint Peter, his own person come in spirit by night, accompanied with great multitude of angels, so specially hallowed and dedicated it to God (for the proof whereof they have yet in the Abbey Saint Peter's cloak to show) that from that time forward was there never so undevout a king who dared that sacred place to violate, or so holy a bishop that dared presume to consecrate.
"And therefore," said the Archbishop of Canterbury, "God forbid that any man should for any earthly enterprise break the immunity and liberty of that sacred sanctuary that has been the safeguard of so many a good man's life. And I trust," said he, "with God's grace, we shall not need it. But for any manner need, I would not we should do it. I trust that she shall be with reason contented, and all things in good manner obtained. And if it happen that I bring it not so to pass, yet shall I toward it so far forth do my best, that you shall all well perceive that no lack of my dutiful efforts, but the mother's dread and womanish fear, shall be the impediment."
"Womanish fear, nay womanish perversity," said the Duke of Buckingham. "For I dare take it upon my soul, she well knows she needs no such thing to fear, either for her son or for herself. For as for her, here is no man that will be at war with women. Would God some of the men of her kin were women too, and then should all be soon at rest. However, there is none of her kin the less loved for that they be her kin, but for their own evil deserving. And nevertheless, if we loved neither her nor her kin, yet were there no cause to think that we should hate the King's noble brother, to whose Grace we ourself be of kin. Whose honor, if she as much desired as our dishonor and as much regard took to his well being as to her own will, she would be as loath to suffer him from the King as any of us be. "For if she have any wit (as would God she had as good will as she has shrewd wit), she reckons herself no wiser than she thinks some that be here, of whose faithful mind, she nothing doubts, but verily believes and knows that they would be as sorry of his harm as herself, and yet would have him from her if she abide there. And we all, I think, are satisfied that both be with her, if she come thence and abide in such place where they may with their honor be.
"Now then, if she refuse in the deliverance of him, to follow the counsel of them whose wisdom she knows, whose truth she well trusts, it is easy to perceive that perversity hinders her, and not fear. But go to, suppose that she fear (as who may let her to fear her own shadow), the more she fears to deliver him, the more ought we fear to leave him in her hands. For if she cast such fond doubts that she fear his hurt, then will she fear that he shall be fetched thence. For she will soon think that if men were set (which God forbid) upon so great a mischief, the sanctuary would little impede them, for good men might, as I think, without sin somewhat less regard it than they do.
"Now then, if she doubt lest he might be fetched from her, is it not likely enough that she shall send him somewhere out of the realm? Verily, I look for none other. And I doubt not but she now thinks with great exertion on it, even as we consider the hindrance of sanctuary. And if she might happen to bring that to pass (as it were no great accomplishment, we letting her alone), all the world would say that we were a wise sort of counselors about a King—we that let his brother be cast away under our noses. And therefore I assure you faithfully for my mind, I will rather defy her plans, fetch him away, than leave him there, till her perversity or fond fear convey him away. "And yet will I break no sanctuary therefore. For verily since the privileges of that place and other like have been of long continued, I am not he that would be about to break them. And in good faith if they were now to begin, I would not be he that should be about to make them. Yet will I not say nay, but that it is a deed of pity that such men of the sea or their evil debtors have brought in poverty, should have some place of liberty, to keep their bodies out of the danger from their cruel creditors. And also if the Crown happen (as it has done) to come in question, while either part takes the other as traitors, I will well there be some places of refuge for both. But as for thieves, of which these places be full, and which never fall from the craft after they once fall thereto, it is pity the sanctuary should serve them. And much more murderers whom God bade to take from the altar and kill them, if their murder were willful. And where it is otherwise there need we not the sanctuaries that God appointed in the old law. For if either necessity, his own defense or misfortune draw him to that deed, a pardon serves which either the law grants of course, or the King of pity may.
"Then look me now how few sanctuary men there be whom any favorable necessity compelled to go thither. And then see on the other side what a sort there be commonly therein, of them whom willful prodigality has brought to nought. What a rabble of thieves, murderers, and malicious, heinous traitors, and that in two places specially: the one at the elbow of the city, the other in the very bowels. I dare well avow it. Weigh the good that they do with the hurt that comes of them, and you shall find it much better to lack both, than have both. And this I say, although they were not abused as they now be, and so long have been, that I fear me ever they will be while men be afraid to set their hands to the amendment: as though God and Saint Peter were the patrons of ungracious living.
"Now prodigals riot and run in debt upon the boldness of these places; yea, and rich men run thither with poor men's goods; there they build, there they spend and bid their creditors go whistle them. Men's wives run thither with their husbands' money, and say they dare not abide with their husbands for beating. Thieves bring thither their stolen goods, and there live thereon. There devise they new robberies; nightly they steal out, they rob and pillage and kill, and come in again as though those places gave them not only a safeguard for the harm they have done, but a license also to do more. However, much of this mischief, if wise men would set their hands to it, might be amended with great thanks to God and no breach of the privilege. The residue, since so long ago I knew never what pope and what prince more piteous than prudent has granted it, and other men because of a certain religious fear have not broken it, let us take a pain therewith, and let it in God's name stand in force, as far forth as reason will. Which is not fully so far forth as may serve to prevent us from fetching forth this noble man to his honor and wealth, out of that place in which he neither is nor can be a sanctuary man.
"A sanctuary serves always to defend the body of that man that stands in danger abroad, not of great hurt only, but also of lawful hurt. For against unlawful harms, never pope nor king intended to privilege any one place. For that privilege has every place. Know you any man any place wherein it is lawful for one man to do another wrong? That no man unlawfully take hurt, that liberty, the King, the law, and very nature forbid in every place and make to that regard for every man a sanctuary every place. But where a man is by lawful means in peril, there needs he the protection of some special privilege, which is the only ground and cause of all sanctuaries. From which necessity this noble prince is far. His love to his King, nature and kindred prove, whose innocence to all the world his tender youth proves. And so sanctuary as for him, neither none he needs, nor also none can have.
"Men come not to sanctuary as they come to baptism, to require it by their godfathers. He must ask it himself that must have it. And what reason—since no man has cause to have it but whose conscience of his own fault makes him feign need to require it—what reason then will yonder babe have? which, even if he had discretion to require it, if need were, I dare say would now be right angry with them that keep him there. And I would think without any scruple of conscience, without any breach of privilege, to be somewhat more homely with them that be there sanctuary men indeed. For if one go to sanctuary with another man's goods, why should not the King, leaving his body at liberty, satisfy the part of his goods even within the sanctuary? For neither king nor pope can give any place such a privilege that it shall discharge a man of his debts, being able to pay."
And that diversity of the clergy that were present, whether they said it for his pleasure or, as they thought, agreed plainly that by the law of God and of the church the goods of a sanctuary man should be delivered in payment of his debts, and stolen goods to the owner, and only liberty reserved him to get his living with the labor of his hands.
"Verily," said the Duke, "I think you say very truth. And what if a man's wife will take sanctuary because she wishes to run from her husband? I would think if she can allege none other cause, he may lawfully—without any displeasure to Saint Peter—take her out of Saint Peter's church by the arm. And if nobody may be taken out of sanctuary that says he will abide there, then if a child will take sanctuary because he fears to go to school, his master must let him alone. And as simple as that example is, yet is there less reason in our case than in that. For therein, though it be a childish fear, yet is there at the leastwise some fear. And herein is there none at all. And verily I have often heard of sanctuary men. But I never heard before of sanctuary children. And therefore, as for the conclusion of my mind, whosoever may have deserved to need it, if they think it for their safety, let them keep it. But he can be no sanctuary man that neither has wisdom to desire it nor malice to deserve it, whose life or liberty can by no lawful process stand in jeopardy. And he that takes one out of sanctuary to do him good, I say plainly that he breaks no sanctuary."
When the Duke had done, the laymen entire and a good part of the clergy also, thinking no earthly hurt was meant toward the young babe, agreed in effect that, if he were not delivered, he should be fetched. However, they all thought it best, in the avoiding of all manner of rumor, that the Lord Cardinal should first attempt to get him with her good will. And thereupon all the Council came unto the Star Chamber at Westminster. And the Lord Cardinal, leaving the Protector (30) with the Council in the Star Chamber, departed into the sanctuary to the Queen (46) with diverse other lords with him—were it for the respect of his honor, or that she should by presence of so many perceive that this errand was not one man's mind, or were it for that the Protector (30) intended not in this matter to trust any one man alone, or else, if she finally were determined to keep him, some of that company had perhaps secret instruction immediately, despite her mind, to take him and to leave her no chance to take him away, which she was likely to plan after this matter was revealed to her, if her time would in any way serve her.
When the Queen (46) and these lords were come together in presence, the Lord Cardinal showed unto her that it was thought by the Protector (30) and the whole Council that her keeping of the King's brother in that place was the thing which highly sounded, not only to the great rumor of the people and their obloquy, but also to the unbearable grief and displeasure of the King's royal majesty; to whose Grace it were as singular comfort to have his natural brother in company, as it was to both their dishonor and all theirs and hers also, to suffer him in sanctuary—as though the one brother stood in danger and peril of the other. And he showed her that the Council therefore had sent him unto her to require her the delivery of him that he might be brought unto the King's presence at his liberty, out of that place that they reckoned as a prison. And there should he be treated according to his estate. And she in this doing should both do great good to the realm, pleasure to the Council and profit to herself, assistance to her friends that were in distress, and over that (which he knew well she specially valued), not only great comfort and honor to the King, but also to the young Duke himself, for both of them great wealth it were to be together, as well for many greater causes, as also for their both entertainment and recreation; which thing the lords esteemed not slight, though it seem light, well pondering that their youth without recreation and play cannot endure, nor find any stranger according to the propriety of both their ages and estates so suitable in that point for any of them as either of them for the other.
"My lord," said the Queen (46), "I say not nay, but that it were very appropriate that this gentleman whom you require were in the company of the King his brother. And in good faith I think it were as great advantage to them both, as for yet a while, to be in the custody of their mother, the tender age considered of the elder of them both, but especially the younger, who besides his infancy that also needs good looking to, has awhile been so sore diseased, vexed with sickness, and is so newly rather a little amended than well recovered, that I dare put no earthly person in trust with his keeping but myself alone, considering, that there is, as physicians say, and as we also find, double the peril in the relapse that was in the first sickness, with which disease—nature being forelabored, forewearied and weakened—grows the less able to bear out a new excess of the illness. And although there might be found another who would by chance do their best unto him, yet is there none that either knows better how to order him than I that so long have kept him; or is more tenderly like to cherish him than his own mother that bore him."
"No man denies, good Madam," said the Cardinal, "but that your Grace were of all folk most necessary about your children, and so would all the Council not only be content but also glad that you were, if it might stand with your pleasure to be in such place as might stand with their honor. But if you appoint yourself to tarry here, then think they yet more apt that the Duke of York were at his liberty honorably with the King—to the comfort of them both than here as a sanctuary man to both their dishonor and obloquy. Since there is not always so great necessity to have the child be with the mother, but that occasion may sometime be such that it should be more expedient to keep him elsewhere. Which in this well appears that, at such time as your dearest son, then Prince and now King, should for his honor and good order of the country, keep household in Wales far out of your company, your Grace was well content therewith yourself."
"Not very well content," said the Queen (46), "and yet the case is not like: for the one was then in health, and the other is now sick. In which case I marvel greatly that my Lord Protector (30) is so desirous to have him in his keeping, where if the child in his sickness miscarried by nature, yet might he run into slander and suspicion of fraud. And where they call it a thing so sore against my child's honor and theirs also that he abides in this place, it is all their honors there to suffer him abide where no man doubts he shall be best kept. And that is here, while I am here, which as yet I intend not to come forth and jeopardize myself after the fashion of my other friends, who, would God, were here in surety with me rather than I were there in jeopardy with them."
"Why, Madam," said another lord, "know you anything why they should be in jeopardy?"
"Nay, verily, Sir," said she, "nor why they should be in prison neither, as they now be. But it is, I trust, no great marvel, though I fear lest those that have not omitted to put them in duress without falsity will omit as little to procure their destruction without cause." The Cardinal made a countenance to the other lord that he should harp no more upon that string. And then said he to the Queen (46) that he nothing doubted but that those lords of her honorable kin, who as yet remained under arrest should, upon the matter examined, do well enough. And as toward her noble person, neither was nor could be any manner of jeopardy.
"Whereby should I trust that?" said the Queen (46). "In that I am guiltless? As though they were guilty. In that I am with their enemies better beloved than they? When they hate them for my sake. In that I am so near of kin to the King? And how far be they away, if that would help, as God send grace it hurt not. And therefore as for me, I purpose not as yet to depart hence. And as for this gentleman my son, I mind that he shall be where I am till I see further. For I assure you, because I see some men so greedy without any substantial cause to have him, this makes me much the more further from delivering him."
"Truly, madam," said he, "and the further that you be to deliver him, the further be other men to suffer you to keep him, lest your causeless fear might cause you farther to convey him. And many be there that think that he can have no privilege in this place, who neither can have will to ask it, nor malice to deserve it. And therefore they reckon no privilege broken, though they fetch him out, which, if you finally refuse to deliver him, I verily think they will (so much dread has my Lord, his uncle, for the tender love he bears him), lest your Grace should by chance send him away."
"Ah, sir," said the Queen (46), "has the Protector (30) so tender zeal to him that he fears nothing but lest he should escape him? Thinks he that I would send him hence, which neither is in the plight to send out, and in what place could I reckon him sure, if he be not sure in this the sanctuary, whereof there was never tyrant yet so devilish that dared presume to break. And, I trust God, the most holy Saint Peter—the guardian of this sanctuary—is as strong now to withstand his adversaries as ever he was.
"But my son can deserve no sanctuary, and therefore he cannot have it. Forsooth he has found a goodly gloss by which that place that may defend a thief may not save an innocent. But he is in no jeopardy nor has no need thereof. Would God he had not. Trusts the Protector (30) (I pray God he may prove a Protector (30)), trusts he that I perceive not whereunto his painted process draws? He says it is not honorable that the Duke abide here and that it were comfortable for them both that he were with his brother because the King lacks a playfellow. Be you sure. I pray God send them both better playfellows than him who makes so high a matter upon such a trifling pretext—as though there could none be found to play with the King unless his brother, who has no lust to play because of sickness, come out of sanctuary, out of his safeguard, to play with him. As though princes as young as they be could not play but with their peers, or children could not play but with their kindred, with whom for the most part they agree much worse than with strangers.
"But the child cannot require the privilege—who told him so? He shall hear him ask it, if he will. However, this is a gay matter: Suppose he could not ask it; suppose he would not ask it; suppose he would ask to go out. If I say he shall not, if I ask the privilege but for myself, I say he that against my will takes out him, breaks the sanctuary. Serves this liberty for my person only, or for my goods too? You may not hence take my horse from me, and may you take my child from me? He is also my ward, for as my learned Council shows me, since he has nothing by descent held by knight's service, the law makes his mother his guardian. Then may no man, I suppose, take my ward from me out of sanctuary, without the breech of the sanctuary. And if my privilege could not serve him, nor he ask it for himself, yet since the law commits to me the custody of him, I may require it for him—unless the law give a child a guardian only for his goods and his lands, discharging him of the care and safekeeping of his body, for which only both lands and goods serve.
"And if examples be sufficient to obtain privilege for my child, I need not far to seek. For in this place in which we now be (and which is now in question whether my child may take benefit of it) mine other son, now King, was born and kept in his cradle and preserved to a more prosperous fortune, which I pray God long to continue. And as all you know, this is not the first time that I have taken sanctuary, for when my lord, my husband, was banished and thrust out of his kingdom, I fled hither being great with child, and here I bore the Prince. And when my lord, my husband, returned safe again and had the victory, then went I hence to welcome him home, and from hence I brought my babe the Prince unto his father, when he first took him in his arms. And I pray God that my son's palace may be as great safeguard to him now reigning, as this place was sometime to the King's enemy. In which place I intend to keep his brother.
"Wherefore here intend I to keep him because man's law serves the guardian to keep the infant. The law of nature wills the mother keep her child. God's law privileges the sanctuary, and the sanctuary my son, since I fear to put him in the Protector's (30) hands that has his brother already; and if both princes failed, the Protector (30) were inheritor to the crown. The cause of my fear has no man to do but examine. And yet fear I no further than the law fears, which, as learned men tell me, forbids every man the custody of them by whose death he may inherit less land than a kingdom. I can no more, but whosoever he be that breaks this holy sanctuary, I pray God shortly send him need of sanctuary, when he may not come to it. For taken out of sanctuary would I not my mortal enemy were."
The Lord Cardinal, perceiving that the Queen (46) grew ever longer the further off and also that she began to kindle and chafe and speak sore, biting words against the Protector (30), and such as he neither believed and was also loath to hear, he said unto her for a final conclusion that he would no longer dispute the matter. But if she were content to deliver the Duke to him and to the other lords there present, he dared lay his own body and soul both in pledge, not only for his safety but also for his estate. And if she would give them a resolute answer to the contrary, he would forthwith depart therewithal, and manage whosoever would with this business afterward; for he never intended more to move her in that matter in which she thought that he and all others, save herself, lacked either wit or truth—wit, if they were so dull that they could nothing perceive what the Protector (30) intended; truth, if they should procure her son to be delivered into his hands, in whom they should perceive toward the child any evil intended.
The Queen (46) with these words stood a good while in a great study. And forasmuch to her seemed the Cardinal more ready to depart than some of the remnant, and the Protector (30) himself ready at hand, so that she verily thought she could not keep him there, but that he should immediately be taken thence; and to convey him elsewhere, neither had she time to serve her, nor place determined, nor persons appointed, all things unready because this message came on her so suddenly, nothing less expecting than to have him fetched out of sanctuary, which she thought to be now beset in such places about that he could not be conveyed out untaken, and partly as she thought it might fortune her fear to be false, and so well she knew it was either needless or without remedy to resist; wherefore, if she should needs go from him, she thought it best to deliver him. And over that, of the Cardinal's faith she nothing doubted, nor of some other lords neither, whom she there saw, which as she feared lest they might be deceived, so was she well assured they would not be corrupted. Then thought she it should yet make them the more warily to look to him and the more circumspect to see to his safety, if she with her own hands gave him to them of trust. And at the last she took the young Duke by the hand, and said unto the lords:
"My Lord," said she, "and all my lords, I neither am so unwise to mistrust your wits, nor so suspicious to mistrust your truths. Of which thing I purpose to make you such a proof that, if either of both lacked in you, might turn both me to great sorrow, the realm to much harm, and you to great reproach. For, lo, here is," said she, "this gentleman, whom I doubt not but I could here keep safe if I would, whatsoever any man say. And I doubt not also but there be some abroad, so deadly enemies unto my blood, that if they knew where any of it lay in their own body, they would let it out.
"We have also had experience that the desire of a kingdom knows no kindred. The brother has been the brother's bane. And may the nephews be sure of their uncle? Each of these children is the other's defense while they be asunder, and each of their lives lies in the other's body. Keep one safe and both be sure, and nothing for them both more perilous than to be both in one place. For what wise merchant ventures all his goods in one ship?
"All this notwithstanding, here I deliver him and his brother in him—to keep into your hands—of whom I shall ask them both before God and the world. Faithful you be, that know I well, and I know well you be wise. Power and strength to keep him, if you wish, neither lack you of yourself, nor can lack help in this cause. And if you cannot elsewhere, then may you leave him here. But only one thing I beseech you for the trust that his father put in you ever, and for trust that I put in you now, that as far as you think that I fear too much, be you well wary that you fear not as far too little." And therewithal she said unto the child: "Farewell, my own sweet son. God send you good keeping. Let me kiss you once yet before you go, for God knows when we shall kiss together again." And therewith she kissed him, and blessed him, turned her back and wept
and went her way, leaving the child weeping as fast.
When the Lord Cardinal and these other lords with him had received this young duke, they brought him into the Star Chamber where the Protector (30) took him in his arms and kissed him with these words:
"Now welcome, my Lord, even with all my very heart." And he said in that of likelihood as he thought. Thereupon forthwith they brought him to the King, his brother, into the Bishop's Palace at Paul's, and from thence through the city honorably into the Tower, out of which after that day they never came abroad.
When the Protector (30) had both the children in his hands, he opened himself more boldly, both to certain other men, and also chiefly to the Duke of Buckingham, although I know that many thought that this Duke was privy to all the Protector's (30) counsel, even from the beginning.
And some of the Protector's (30) friends said that the Duke was the first mover of the Protector (30) to this matter, sending a private messenger unto him, straight after King Edward's death. But others again, who knew better the subtle cunning of the Protector (30), deny that he ever opened his enterprise to the Duke until he had brought to pass the things before rehearsed. But when he had imprisoned the Queen's (46) kinsfolks and gotten both her sons into his own hands, then he opened the rest of his purpose with less fear to them whom he thought meet for the matter, and specially to the Duke, who being won to his purpose, he thought his strength more than half increased.
The matter was broken unto the Duke by subtle folks, and such as were masters of their craft in the handling of such wicked devices, who declared unto him that the young king was offended with him for his kinsfolks' sakes, and that if he were ever able, he would revenge them, who would prick him forward thereunto if they escaped (for the Queen's (46) family would remember their imprisonment). Or else if his kinsfolk were put to death, without doubt the young king would be sorrowful for their deaths, whose imprisonment was grievous unto him. And that with repenting the Duke should nothing avail: for there was no way left to redeem his offense by benefits, but he should sooner destroy himself than save the King, who with his brother and his kinsfolks he saw in such places imprisoned, as the Protector (30) might with a nod destroy them all; and that it were no doubt but he would do it indeed, if there were any new enterprise attempted. And that it was likely that as the Protector (30) had provided private guard for himself, so had he spies for the Duke and traps to catch him if he should be against him, and that, perchance, from them whom he least suspected. The state of things and the dispositions of men were then such that a man could not well tell whom he might trust or whom he might fear. These things and such like, being beaten into the Duke's mind, brought him to that point where he had repented the way he had entered, yet would he go forth in the same; and since he had once begun, he would stoutly go through. And therefore to this wicked enterprise, which he believed could not be avoided, he bent himself and went through and determined that since the common mischief could not be amended, he would turn it as much as he might to his own advantage.
Then it was agreed that the Protector (30) should have the Duke's aid to make him king, and that the Protector's (30) only lawful son should marry the Duke's daughter, and that the Protector (30) should grant him the quiet possession of the Earldom of Hertford, which he claimed as his inheritance and could never obtain it in King Edward's time. Besides these requests of the Duke, the Protector (30) of his own mind promised him a great quantity of the King's treasure and of his household stuff. And when they were thus at a point between themselves, they went about to prepare for the coronation of the young king as they would have it seem. And that they might turn both the eyes and minds of men from perceiving their plans, the lords, being sent for from all parties of the realm, came thick to that solemnity.
But the Protector (30) and the Duke, after that, once they had set the Lord Cardinal, the Archbishop of York (then Lord Chancellor), the bishop of Ely (63), Lord Stanley, and Lord Hastings (52) (then Lord Chamberlain) with many other noble men to commune and devise about the coronation in one place, as fast were they in another place contriving the contrary, and to make the Protector (30) king. To which council, although there were admittedly very few, and they very secret, yet began there, here and there about, some manner of muttering among the people, as though all should not long be well, though they neither knew what they feared nor wherefore: Were it that before such great things, men's hearts of a secret instinct of nature misgives them, as the sea without wind swells of itself sometime before a tempest; or were it that some one man haply somewhat perceiving, filled many men with suspicion, though he showed few men what he knew. However, somewhat the dealing itself made men to muse on the matter, though the council was closed. For little by little all folk withdrew from the Tower and drew to Crosby's Place in Bishopsgate Street where the Protector (30) kept his household. The Protector (30) had the people appealing to him; the King was in manner alone. While some for their business made suit to them that had the doing, some were by their friends secretly warned that it might haply turn them to no good to be too much attendant about the King without the Protector's (30) appointment, who removed also many of the Prince's old servants from him, and set new ones about him. Thus many things coming together—partly by chance, partly by purpose—caused at length not only common people who wave with the wind, but also wise men and some lords as well, to mark the matter and muse thereon, so far forth that the Lord Stanley, who was afterwards Earl of Darby, wisely mistrusted it and said unto the Lord Hastings (52) that he much disliked these two several councils.
"For while we," said he, "talk of one matter in the one place, little know we whereof they talk in the other place."
"My Lord," said the Lord Hastings (52), "on my life, never doubt you. For while one man is there who is never thence, never can there be things once minded that should sound amiss toward me, but it should be in mine ears before it were well out of their mouths."
This meant he by Catesby, who was of his near secret counsel and whom he very familiarly used, and in his most weighty matters put no man in so special trust, reckoning himself to no man so dear, since he well knew there was no man to him so much beholden as was this Catesby, who was a man well learned in the laws of this land, and by the special favor of the Lord Chamberlain in good authority and much rule bore in all the county of Leicester where the Lord Chamberlain's power chiefly lay. But surely great pity was it that he had not had either more truth or less wit. For his dissimulation alone kept all that mischief up. If the Lord Hastings (52) had not put so special trust in Catesby, the Lord Stanley and he had departed with diverse other lords and broken all the dance, for many ill signs that he saw, which he now construed all to the best, so surely thought he there could be none harm toward him in that council intended where Catesby was. And of truth the Protector (30) and the Duke of Buckingham made very good semblance unto the Lord Hastings (52) and kept him much in company. And undoubtedly the Protector (30) loved him well and loath was to have lost him, saving for fear lest his life should have quelled their purpose. For which cause he moved Catesby to prove with some words cast out afar off, whether he could think it possible to win the Lord Hastings (52) to their part. But Catesby, whether he tried him or questioned him not, reported unto them that he found him so fast and heard him speak so terrible words that he dared no further say. And of truth the Lord Chamberlain, with great trust, showed unto Catesby the mistrust that others began to have in the matter.
And therefore he, fearing lest their motions might with the Lord Hastings (52) diminish his credibility, whereunto only all the matter leaned, procured the Protector (30) hastily to get rid of him. And much the rather, for that he trusted by his death to obtain much of the rule that the Lord Hastings (52) bore in his country, the only desire whereof was the enticement that induced him to be partner and one special contriver of all this horrible treason.
Whereupon soon after, that is to wit, on the Friday, the thirteenth day of June, many lords assembled in the Tower, and there sat in Council, devising the honorable solemnity of the King's coronation, of which the time appointed so near approached that the pageants and subtleties were in making day and night at Westminster, and much victual killed therefore that afterwards was cast away. These lords so sitting together speaking of this matter, the Protector (30) came in among them, first about nine of the clock, saluting them courteously, and excusing himself that he had been from them so long, saying merrily that he had been asleep that day. And after a little talking with them, he said unto the Bishop of Ely: "My Lord, you have very good strawberries at your garden in Holborn, I require you, let us have a mess of them."
"Gladly, my Lord," said he. "Would God I had some better thing as ready to your pleasure as that." And therewith in all the haste he sent his servant for a mess of strawberries.
The Protector (30) set the lords fast in talking, and thereupon praying them to spare him for a little while, departed thence. And soon after one hour, between ten and eleven, he returned into the chamber among them, all changed with a wonderful sour, angry countenance, knitting the brows, frowning and frothing and gnawing on his lips, and so sat him down in his place, all the lords much dismayed and sore marveling of this manner of sudden change, and what thing should him ail. Then when he had sat still awhile, thus he began: "What were they worthy to have that plan and imagine the destruction of me, being so near of blood unto the King, and Protector (30) of his royal person and his realm?"
At this question, all the lords sat astonished, musing much by whom this question should be meant, of which every man knew himself clear. Then the Lord Chamberlain, as he that for the love between them thought he might be boldest with him, answered and said that they were worthy to be punished as heinous traitors, whosoever they were. And all the others affirmed the same.
"That is," said he, "yonder sorceress, my brother's wife, and others with her," meaning the Queen (46).
At these words many of the other lords were greatly abashed that favored her. But the Lord Hastings (52) was in his mind better content that it was caused by her than by any other whom he loved better; although his heart somewhat grudged that he was not before made of counsel in this matter, as he was of the taking of her kindred and of their putting to death, which were by his assent before devised to be beheaded at Pomfret this selfsame day, in which he was not aware that it was by others devised that he himself should the same day be beheaded at London.
Then said the Protector (30): "You shall all see in what way that sorceress and that other witch of her counsel, Shore's wife (38), with their affinity, have by their sorcery and witchcraft wasted my body." And therewith, he plucked up his doublet sleeve to his elbow upon his left arm, where he showed a shriveled, withered and small arm—as if it were ever otherwise. And thereupon every man's mind sore misgave them, well perceiving that this matter was but a quarrel, for well they knew that the Queen (46) was too wise to go about any such folly. And also if she would, yet would she of all folk least make Shore's wife (38) of council, whom of all women she most hated, as that concubine whom the King her husband had most loved. And also no man was there present but well knew that the Protector's (30) arm was ever such since his birth.
Nevertheless the Lord Chamberlain (which from the death of King Edward kept Shore's wife (38), on whom he somewhat doted in the King's life, he saving his affection, as it is said, during that time and resisting her out of reverence toward his King, or else of a certain kind of fidelity to his friend) answered and said: "Certainly, my Lord, if they have so heinously done, they be worthy heinous punishment."
"What?!" said the Protector (30). "Thou serve me, I know, with 'ifs' and with 'ands.' I tell thee they have so done, and that I will make good on thy body, traitor." And therewith as in a great anger, he clapped his fist upon the table a great rap. At which token given, one cried treason outside the chamber. Therewith a door slammed, and in come there rushing men in armor, as many as the chamber might hold. And at once the Protector (30) said to the Lord Hastings (52): "I arrest thee, traitor."
"What me, my Lord?" said he.
"Yea, thee, traitor," said the Protector (30).
And another let fly at the Lord Stanley, who shrunk at the stroke and fell under the table, or else his head had been cleft to the teeth; for as shortly as he shrank, yet ran the blood about his ears. Then were they all quickly bestowed in diverse chambers, except the Lord Chamberlain, whom the Protector (30) bade speed and shrive him at once, "for by Saint Paul," said he, "I will not to dinner till I see thy head off." It remedied him not to ask why, but heavily he took a priest at random and made a short confession, for a longer one would not be suffered, the Protector (30) made so much haste to dinner, which he might not go to till this were done for the saving of his oath. So was he brought forth into the green beside the chapel within the Tower, and his head laid down upon a long log of timber, and there stricken off, and afterward his body with the head interred at Windsor beside the body of King Edward, both of whose souls our Lord pardon. A marvelous case is it to hear either the warnings of what he should have avoided or the tokens of that he could not avoid. For the same night next before his death, the Lord Stanley sent a trusty secret messenger unto him at midnight in all the haste, requiring him to rise and ride away with him, for he was disposed utterly no longer to remain at home, he had so fearful a dream, in which he thought that a boar with his tusks so slashed them both by the heads that the blood ran about both their shoulders. And forasmuch as the Protector (30) gave the boar for his coat of arms, this dream made so fearful an impression in his heart that he was thoroughly determined no longer to tarry, but had his horse ready, if the Lord Hastings (52) would go with him to ride so far yet the same night, that they should be out of danger before day.
"Ay, good Lord," said the Lord Hastings (52) to this messenger, "leans my Lord thy master so much to such trifles and has such faith in dreams, which either his own fear fancies or do rise in the night's rest by reason of his day thoughts? Tell him it is plain witchcraft to believe in such dreams, which, if they were tokens of things to come, why thinks he not that we might be as likely to make them true by our going if we were caught and brought back (as friends fail those who flee), for then had the boar a cause likely to slash us with his tusks, as folk that fled for some falsehood; wherefore, either is there no peril, nor none there is indeed; or if any be, it is rather in going than abiding. And if we must fall in peril one way or other, yet had I rather that men should see it were by other men's falsehood than think it were either our own fault or faint heart. And therefore go to thy master, man, and commend me to him, and pray him be merry and have no fear, for I assure him I am as sure of the man that he knows of, as I am of my own hand."
"God send grace, sir," said the messenger, and went his way.
Certain is it also, that in the riding toward the Tower, the same morning in which he was beheaded, his horse twice or thrice stumbled with him almost to the falling, which thing, although each man knows well daily happens to them to whom no such mischance is aimed, yet has it been of an old rite and custom observed as a token oftentimes notably foregoing some great misfortune.
Now this that follows was no warning, but an enemy's scorn. The same morning before he were up, came a knight unto him, as it were of courtesy to accompany him to the Council, but of truth sent by the Protector (30) to haste him thitherward, with whom he was of secret confederacy in that purpose, a mean man at that time, and now of great authority. This knight, when it happened that the Lord Chamberlain by the way to stay his horse and talk awhile with a priest whom he met in the Tower Street, revealed his tale and said merrily to him: "What, my Lord, I pray you, come on; whereto talk you so long with that priest? You have no need of a priest yet." And therewith he laughed upon him, as though he would say, "You shall have soon." But so little knew the other what he meant, and so little mistrusted, that he was never merrier nor never so full of good hope in his life, which is the very thing often seen a sign of change. But I shall rather let anything pass me than the vain security of a man's mind so near his death.
On 04 May 1517 thirteen of the rioters were executed.
Wriothesley's Chronicle Volume 1 Henry VIII 1536. This yeare, on Maye daie, 1536, beinge Moundaie, was a great justing at Greenewych, where was chalengers my Lorde of Rochforde (33) and others, and defenders Mr. Noris and others. See 1536 Mayday Jousting.
On 04 May 1605 Thomas Arundell 1st Baron Arundel Wardour 1560-1639 (45) was created 1st Baron Arundel Wardour in Wiltshire. Mary Wriothesley Baroness Arundel Wardour by marriage Baron Arundel Wardour in Wiltshire
On 04 May 1643 the Cheapside Cross was destroyed by order of the Committee for the Demolition of Monuments of Superstition and Idolatry.
John Evelyn's Diary 04 May 1648. 04 May 1648. Came up the Essex petitioners for an agreement between his Majesty and the rebels. The 16th, the Surrey men addressed the Parliament for the same; of which some of them were slain and murdered by Oliver Cromwell's (49) guards, in the new palace yard. I now sold the impropriation of South Malling, near Lewes, in Sussex, to Messrs. Kemp and Alcock, for £3,000.
Samuel Pepys' Diary 04 May 1660. 04 May 1660. I wrote this morning many letters, and to all the copies of the vote of the council of war I put my name, that if it should come in print my name maybe at it. I sent a copy of the vote to Doling, inclosed in this letter:
He that can fancy a fleet (like ours) in her pride, with pendants loose, guns roaring, caps flying, and the loud 'Vive le Roys,' echoed from one ship's company to another, he, and he only, can apprehend the joy this inclosed vote was received with, or the blessing he thought himself possessed of that bore it, and is
"Your humble servant".
About nine o'clock I got all my letters done, and sent them by the messenger that came yesterday. This morning came Captain Isham on board with a gentleman going to the King, by whom very cunningly, my Lord tells me, he intends to send an account of this day's and yesterday's actions here, notwithstanding he had writ to the Parliament to have leave of them to send the King the answer of the fleet. Since my writing of the last paragraph, my Lord called me to him to read his letter to the King, to see whether I could find any slips in it or no. And as much of the letter' as I can remember, is thus:
"May it please your Most Excellent Majesty", and so begins.
That he yesterday received from General Monk (51) his Majesty's letter and direction; and that General Monk (51) had desired him to write to the Parliament to have leave to send the vote of the seamen before he did send it to him, which he had done by writing to both Speakers; but for his private satisfaction he had sent it thus privately (and so the copy of the proceedings yesterday was sent him), and that this come by a gentleman that came this day on board, intending to wait upon his Majesty, that he is my Lord's countryman, and one whose friends have suffered much on his Majesty's behalf. That my Lords Pembroke and Salisbury are put out of the House of Lords. That my Lord is very joyful that other countries do pay him the civility and respect due to him; and that he do much rejoice to see that the King do resolve to receive none of their assistance (or some such words), from them, he having strength enough in the love and loyalty of his own subjects to support him. That his Majesty had chosen the best place, Scheveling,—[Schevingen, the port of the Hague]—for his embarking, and that there is nothing in the world of which he is more ambitious, than to have the honour of attending his Majesty, which he hoped would be speedy. That he had commanded the vessel to attend at Helversluce—[Hellevoetsluis, in South Holland] —till this gentleman returns, that so if his Majesty do not think it fit to command the fleet himself, yet that he may be there to receive his commands and bring them to his Lordship. He ends his letter, that he is confounded with the thoughts of the high expressions of love to him in the King's (29) letter, and concludes,
Your most loyall, dutifull, faithfull and obedient subject and servant, E. M.
The rest of the afternoon at ninepins. In the evening came a packet from London, among the rest a letter from my wife, which tells me that she has not been well, which did exceedingly trouble me, but my Lord sending Mr. Cook at night, I wrote to her and sent a piece of gold enclosed to her, and wrote also to Mrs. Bowyer, and enclosed a half piece to her for a token. After supper at the table in the coach, my Lord talking concerning the uncertainty of the places of the Exchequer to them that had them now; he did at last think of an office which do belong to him in case the King do restore every man to his places that ever had been patent, which is to be one of the clerks of the signet, which will be a fine employment for one of his sons. After all this discourse we broke up and to bed.
In the afternoon came a minister on board, one Mr. Sharpe, who is going to the King; who tells me that Commissioners are chosen both of Lords and Commons to go to the King; and that Dr. Clarges (42)1 is going to him from the Army, and that he will be here to-morrow. My letters at night tell me, that the House did deliver their letter to Sir John Greenville, in answer to the King's (29) sending, and that they give him £500 for his pains, to buy him a jewel, and that besides the £50,000 ordered to be borrowed of the City for the present use of the King, the twelve companies of the City do give every one of them to his Majesty, as a present, £1000.
Note 1. Thomas Clarges (42), physician to the army, created a baronet2, 1674, died 1695. He had been previously knighted; his sister Anne married General Monk (51). "The Parliament also permitted General Monk (51) to send Mr. Clarges (42), his brother-in-law, accompanied with some officers of the army, to assure his Majesty of the fidelity and obedience of the army, which had made publick and solemn protestations thereof, after the Letter and Declaration was communicated unto them by the General". Sir William Lowers Relation... of the Voiage and Residence which... Charles the II Hath made in Holland, Hague, 1660, folio.
Note 2. Twenty Trees. Appears to be a mistake. It was Thomas Clarge's son Walter Clarges 1st Baronet 1653-1706 (6) who was created a baronet in 1674.
Samuel Pepys' Diary 04 May 1661. 04 May 1661. Up in the morning and took coach, and so to Gilford, where we lay at the Red Lyon, the best Inn, and lay in the room the King lately lay in, where we had time to see the Hospital, built by Archbishop Abbott, and the free school, and were civilly treated by the Mayster. So to supper, and to bed, being very merry about our discourse with the Drawers concerning the minister of the Town, with a red face and a girdle. So to bed, where we lay and sleep well.
Samuel Pepys' Diary 04 May 1663. 04 May 1663. Up betimes and to setting my Brampton papers in order and looking over my wardrobe against summer, and laying things in order to send to my brother to alter.
By and by took boat intending to have gone down to Woolwich, but seeing I could not get back time enough to dinner, I returned and home. Whither by and by the dancing-master came, whom standing by, seeing him instructing my wife, when he had done with her, he would needs have me try the steps of a coranto, and what with his desire and my wife's importunity, I did begin, and then was obliged to give him entry-money 10s., and am become his scholler. The truth is, I think it a thing very useful for a gentleman, and sometimes I may have occasion of using it, and though it cost me what I am heartily sorry it should, besides that I must by my oath give half as much more to the poor, yet I am resolved to get it up some other way, and then it will not be above a month or two in a year. So though it be against my stomach yet I will try it a little while; if I see it comes to any great inconvenience or charge I will fling it off. After I had begun with the steps of half a coranto, which I think I shall learn well enough, he went away, and we to dinner, and by and by out by coach, and set my wife down at my Lord Crew's, going to see my Lady Jem. Montagu, who is lately come to town, and I to St. James's; where Mr. Coventry (35), Sir W. Pen (42) and I staid a good while for the Duke's coming in, but not coming, we walked to White Hall; and meeting the King (32), we followed him into the Park, where Mr. Coventry (35) and he talked of building a new yacht, which the King (32) is resolved to have built out of his privy purse, he having some contrivance of his own.
The talk being done, we fell off to White Hall, leaving the King (32) in the Park, and going back, met the Duke going towards St. James's to meet us. So he turned back again, and to his closett at White Hall; and there, my Lord Sandwich (37) present, we did our weekly errand, and so broke up; and I down into the garden with my Lord Sandwich (37) (after we had sat an hour at the Tangier Committee); and after talking largely of his own businesses, we begun to talk how matters are at Court: and though he did not flatly tell me any such thing, yet I do suspect that all is not kind between the King (32) and the Duke (29), and that the King's fondness to the little Duke (14) do occasion it; and it may be that there is some fear of his being made heir to the Crown. But this my Lord did not tell me, but is my guess only; and that my Chancellor (54) is without doubt falling past hopes.
He being gone to Chelsey by coach I to his lodgings, where my wife staid for me, and she from thence to see Mrs. Pierce and called me at Whitehall stairs (where I went before by land to know whether there was any play at Court to-night) and there being none she and I to Mr. Creed to the Exchange, where she bought something, and from thence by water to White Fryars, and wife to see Mrs. Turner (40), and then came to me at my brother's, where I did give him order about my summer clothes, and so home by coach, and after supper to bed to my wife, with whom I have not lain since I used to lie with my father till to-night.
Samuel Pepys' Diary 04 May 1664. 04 May 1664. Up, and my new Taylor, Langford, comes and takes measure of me for a new black cloth suit and cloake, and I think he will prove a very carefull fellow and will please me well.
Thence to attend my Lord Peterborough (42) in bed and give him an account of yesterday's proceeding with Povy (50). I perceive I labour in a business will bring me little pleasure; but no matter, I shall do the King (33) some service.
To my Lord's lodgings, where during my Lady's sickness he is, there spoke with him about the same business.
Back and by water to my cozen Scott's. There condoled with him the loss of my cozen, his wife, and talked about his matters, as atturney to my father, in his administering to my brother Tom. He tells me we are like to receive some shame about the business of his bastarde with Jack Noble; but no matter, so it cost us no money.
Thence to the Coffee-house and to the 'Change a while. News uncertain how the Dutch proceed. Some say for, some against a war. The plague increases at Amsterdam.
So home to dinner, and after dinner to my office, where very late, till my eyes (which begin to fail me nowadays by candlelight) begin to trouble me. Only in the afternoon comes Mr. Peter Honiwood to see me and gives me 20s., his and his friends' pence for my brother John, which, God forgive my pride, methinks I think myself too high to take of him; but it is an ungratefull pitch of pride in me, which God forgive.
Home at night to supper and to bed.
On 04 May 1664 the Battle of Tangier took place when a force of Moorish warriors ambushed and defeated a detachment of the garrison of English Tangier led by the Governor Andrew Rutherford 1st Earl Teviot -1664.
On 04 May 1664 Andrew Rutherford 1st Earl Teviot -1664 was killed. Earl Teviot. Thomas Rutherford of Hunthill 2nd Baron Rutherford -1668 succeeded 2nd Baron Rutherford 1C 1661.
On 04 May 1688 Isabella Bentinck 1688-1728 was born to William Bentinck 1st Earl of Portland 1649-1709 (38) and Anne Villiers Countess Portland 1651-1688.
On 04 May 1762 George III King Great Britain and Ireland 1738-1820 (23) created a number of new peerages ...
Edward Noel 1st Viscount Wentworth 1715-1774 (46) was created 1st Viscount Wentworth.
William Courtenay 6th Earl Devon 1709-1762 (53) was created 1st Viscount Courtenay.
Thomas Pelham Holles 1st Duke Newcastle under Lyne 1693-1768 (68) was created 1st Baron Pelham of Stanmer in Sussex with default to Thomas Pelham (34).
Caroline Lennox 1st Lady Holland 1723-1774 (39) was created 1st Baron Holland in Lincolnshire.
John Perceval 2nd Earl Egmont 1711-1770 (51) was created 1st Baron Lovel and Holland of Enmore in Somerset.
John Montagu 1st Baron Montagu 1735-1770 (27) was created 1st Baron Montagu of Boughton in Northamptonshire 2C 1762.
Joseph Damer 1st Earl Dorchester 1718-1798 (44) was created 1st Baron Milton of Milton Abbey in Dorset.
Edward Hussey Montagu 1st Earl Beaulieu 1721-1802 (41) was created 1st Baron Beaulieu of Beaulieu in Hampshire with a special remainder to his heirs male with his current wife Isabella Montagu Duchess Manchester -1786.
1762 George Venables Vernon 1st Baron Vernon of Kinderton in Cheshire 1709-1780 (52) was created 1st Baron Vernon of Kinderton in Cheshire. Martha Harcourt Baroness Vernon Kinderton Chester 1715-1794 (46) by marriage, Baron Vernon of Kinderton in Cheshire.
George Fox Lane 1st Baron Bingley 1697-1763 (65) was created 1st Baron Bingley 2C 1763. Harriet Benson Baroness Bingley 1705-1771 (57) by marriage Baron Bingley 2C 1763.
On 04 May 1763 Aubrey Beauclerk 5th Duke St Albans 1740-1802 (22) and Catherine Ponsonby Duchess St Albans 1742-1789 (20) were married. He a great grandson of Charles II King England Scotland and Ireland 1630-1685 and 3 x great grandson of Henry IV King France 1553-1610.
On 04 May 1822 Louisa Primrose 1822-1870 was born to Archibald Primrose 4th Earl Rosebery 1783-1868 (38) and Anna Margaret Anson Countess Camden 1796-1882 (25).
On 04 May 1834 George Augustus Henry Cavendish 1st Earl Burlington 1754-1834 (80) died.
On 04 May 1848 Clementina Augusta Spencer Churchill Countess Camden 1848-1886 was born to George Spencer Churchill 6th Duke Marlborough 1793-1857 (54) and Charlotte Augusta Flower Duchess Marlborough 1818-1850 (30).
On 04 May 1859 Francis Godolphin Osborne 7th Duke Leeds 1798-1859 (60) died. He was buried at the Osborne Family Chapel All Hallows' Church Harthill. His first cousin George Godolphin Osborne 8th Duke Leeds 1802-1872 (56) succeeded 8th Duke Leeds. Harriet Emma Leveson Gower Duchess Leeds 1800-1852 by marriage Duke Leeds. His nephew Sackville George Lane Fox 15th Baron Darcy Knayth 12th Baron Conyers 1827-1888 (31) succeeded 15th Baron Darcy Knayth, 12th Baron Conyers.
On 04 May 1895 Roundell Palmer 1st Earl Selborne 1812-1895 (82) died. His son William Palmer 2nd Earl Selborne 1859-1942 (35) succeeded 2nd Earl Selborne. Beatrix Maud Gascoyne Cecil Countess Selborne 1858-1950 (37) by marriage Earl Selborne.
On 04 May 1911 Eleanor Grosvenor Duchess Northumberland 1820-1911 (90) died.
On 04 May 1913 Katherine Glücksburg 1913-2007 was born to Constantine I King Greece 1868-1923 (44) and Sophia Hohenzollern Queen Consort Greece 1870-1932 (42).