Perkin

by Ann Wroe

The story of Perkin Warbeck is one of the most compelling mysteries of English history. A young man suddenly emerged claiming to be Richard of York, the younger of the Princes in the Tower. As such, he tormented Henry vii for eight years. He tried three times to invade England and behaved like a prince. Officially, however, he was proclaimed to be Perkin Warbeck, the son of a Flemish boatman. A diplomatic pawn, he was used by the greatest European rulers of the age for their own purposes. All who dealt with him gave him the identity they wished him to have: either the Duke of York or a jumped up lad from Flanders. It is possible that he was neither. It is also possible that, by the end, even he did not really know who he was.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Biography, British Literature, Medieval, Tudor Period, Medieval History

Unknown Binding

First published October 21, 2003

About the author

Ann Wroe is a journalist and author - working as Briefings and Obituaries editor of The Economist. She is a Fellow of the Royal Historical Society, the Royal Society of Literature and the English Association.

Reviews

[Jerry Jr. · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was shocked the first time I found negative online reviews of this book. For all Wroe's rich command of detail, I thought the basic story "The Perfect Prince" told was compelling, the thinking and behavior of all the different historical figures well-explained, and the writing lyrical and moving (the passage about Perkin's passage into the afterlife at the end sent chills down my spine). And as many complaints as I have read about the book's digressions, I found them to be the best part. For instance, Wroe's extended discussion about identity in the late middle ages is both brilliant and often really funny, especially her explanatory anecdotes about "The Grand Count of Little Cairo" and similar tricksters darting around late fifteenth century Europe.

In the end, I think people expecting a linear account of who Perkin Warbeck was, what he did, what happened to him, and just that, will be disappointed by Wroe. But it's not just that there's more than that one narrative going on here. "The Perfect Prince" is as ambitious as its namesake, and tries to accomplish much more than the ordinary, tried-and-true, cleavage-on-the-cover Tudor history. By the time Wroe is done, her reader has sailed with Portuguese explorers to West Africa, and traipsed through the woods of medieval Ireland in the company of a fugive pretender to the throne of England.

I don't call that dry; I call it getting more than your money's worth. Amazing, exciting stuff.

[Caroline · Rating 5 out of 5]

Probably the best historical biography I've ever read, bar none, and the fact that it's about a figure as shadowy and mysterious as Perkin Warbeck/Richard, Duke of York only makes it more impressive. The book really brings the medieval world to life through Wroe's wonderful writing - she doesn't just write about what people did, what they ate, what they wore, but how they would have thought and felt. She never comes down to a side as to whether 'Perkin' really was the son of Edward IV or a boatman from Tournai, which in my opinion makes this a better book, because it is impossible to know. Any historian who claims otherwise is deluded. Was Perkin really one of the Princes in the Tower? We'll never know, but I like to think that maybe he was.

[Jemidar · Rating 3 out of 5]

A fairly average read which was interesting in parts but struck me as somewhat fanciful in others. It's also not the most concise biography you will ever read, with the known facts about Perkin Warbeck seemingly taking up little space compared to the endless background information and author speculation.

[Matt · Rating 2 out of 5]

Perkin Warbeck (aka Piers Osbeck, aka Richard, Duke of York), was possibly the biggest impostor in world history. This boatman’s son from Tournai, Belgium, was lifted up by Margaret of York (Margaret of Burgundy) as Richard, Duke of York, the younger of the two “Princes in the Tower”, and second son to the former King of England (and Margaret’s brother), Edward IV.

The Wars of the Roses had effectively ended when Henry Tudor defeated Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth Field. The wars between the York’s and Lancaster’s for the crown of England lasted for almost the entire 15th century, but for Margaret (and many other Yorkist supporters) it wasn’t over yet! There was always mystery and speculation of what had happened to the two “Princes in the Tower”, and the York’s needed someone with a legitimate claim to the throne. Enter Perkin Warbeck, who fit the bill perfectly. He was the right age, looked the part, and played the part of Richard convincingly. Many people actually believed he was Richard, miraculously escaped from the tower, coming back to claim his throne.

This biography of Warbeck’s life was interesting and informative. It delved a lot into the other events happening in Europe during his life. Some of these events were supportive to his story and some felt like major filler by Wroe and were distractions from moving his story along. The actual meat of Warbeck’s story could have been told easily in 200 pages (or less), but this bio was bloated to over 600 pages, and for that I knocked off a few stars from my rating. With that said, it was informative, and it was interesting to see the outside angle looking in at Henry VII’s early reign.

[Abigail Hartman · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book was so clearly well researched, its prose so fluid and at times subtle and clever, that I feel guilty not having enjoyed it. I did for the first few chapters. I was fascinated by the way the author reconstructs the world around the central character and plot, like an artist recovering an old painting; the attention to details was brilliant, and the narrative draws out suggestions from the sources in a unique, thought-provoking way. For the first hundred or two hundred pages I was tentatively recommending it to folks. After a while, however, it simply became too much. Not that the information, taken in individual chunks, was not generally pertinent or insightful; the issue was that, while I felt I would be fascinated by it were I the one digging in the archives and recovering the story, reading it as a repackaged account of someone else's archival discoveries frequently left me thinking, "But...I don't really care about [x, y, z]." The book needs to be read through in order to preserve the storyline (which can easily become confusing, following as it does all the possibilities of "Perkin's" life), and yet, reading it through, I became bogged down in the very things I first thought were so brilliant.

Of course, one can then ask how much is too much, what is important and worth discussing or at least mentioning in a history, and what (if anything) should be left in the archives. Other readers clearly did not experience the bogged-down-ness, and I can't deny that the book's interrogation of sources is both thorough and imaginative. It was simply a little bit too much for me.

[Christine · Rating 4 out of 5]

It does help if you have a grounding in Tudor history before you read this book. Keep in mind, as other reviews have pointed out, it is not a linear narrative. It isn't really a biography, more like a close look at a time and the mystery that occured there. Wroe does not chose a side for her mystery. She, in fact, seems, to be doing her best just to present the mystery. She is far more interested in how Warbeck influenced by simply being those in power. Well wroth a read.

[Abbi Debelack · Rating 5 out of 5]

Currently one of my fav people to study in history!! Great bio with lots of detail! Plus I appreciated that while the author did indicate what she thought to be the truth behind the (multiple) conspiracies, she was surprisingly neutral for a historian!

[Linda · Rating 4 out of 5]

For people interested in the beginning of the Tudor dynasty in England (or interested in the demise of the Plantagenents), this is a very interesting book and not something that is generally mentioned in history books concerning those times.

No one knows what happened to the Princes in the Tower. When King Edward IV died, he had 2 young sons who were lodged in the Tower by their uncle who became Richard III. At the time, the Tower was not primarily a prison but one of the Royal residences, so there was, nor should be today, any natural suspicion that Richard was "imprisoning" them. However, the two disappeared. Richard did not display the bodies, which was the general custom of the time among Kings to show that their right to the crown was legitimate because the contender was dead of natural causes. He never claimed they were dead. He never showed them alive. His right to the Crown was legitimate; the Royal Council declared that the boys were illegitimate and therefore could not inherit.

But there has always been the mystery of what happened to them? Were they killed? Did they die of natural causes? Were they taken away somewhere and lived out their lives quietly? Their mother, the former Queen, made no outcry when they "disappeared," which leads many to think they were not killed. But no one knows for sure.

This book is history and deals with a serious threat to the newly established Tudor dynasty. A young man came out of Europe by way of Ireland and claimed to be the younger Prince in the Tower, Richard Duke of York. His claim was supported by the King of France, the Holy Roman Emperor, the Duchess of Burgundy (who would also be his aunt, if his claim was true), King James of Scotland and many English nobles. He lead somewhat successful raids into England but was turned back (and not captured) several times. Eventually, after being quite an annoying little insect, he, now called Perkin Warbeck, was captured by Henry VII's troops and eventually executed.

Was he really the Duke of York? Did he truly have a right to the throne? Henry VII "discovered" his "true" identity as the son of a boatman in Flanders. Yet he had the courtly manners and speech of a true noble. He eventually "confessed" to be Warbeck, but many questions remain about who and what he really was.

Wroe does a magnificent job of plugging through all of these questions. Just when you think her research has pretty much given you enough evidence to decide, she throws in more that tends to contradict what you just decided to believe. But this is fantastic because it shows how tangled the "evidence" is for the Richard/Perkins identity. At such a distance the truth will probably never be known, but there is strong evidence for why Henry VII would want this contender to be a common boatman's son and why the heads of the European countries would prefer him to be the Duke of York.

Read it and decide. It's worth your time.

[Jamie Adair · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Perfect Prince is the story of Perkin Warbeck

Wroe brings out many intriguing details, such as, did you know that Warbeck and his wife lived in Henry VII's household after he was captured. This seems odd given he was a supposed traitor. Why not the tower or the scaffold?

Wroe's writing in some places is positively lyrical. She describes

While I realize many people hated this book, I still recommend it for anyone interested in Henry VII's reign or interested in, perhaps, Margaret of Burgundy.

The book could have benefited from some well-needed pruning. Even Ann Wroe herself, admits she battled with her editors and prevented them from trimming it because of her passion for the topic. I certainly understand her feelings. However, it is a long read and it does sag in places.

Likewise, while you can tell Wroe really wants to state definitively that the pretender was not a pretender - at least that was my take - the evidence doesn't quite let her.

Nonetheless, Wroe should be commended on her research. I believe she translated source material from Bruges and Portugal. I've seen few WOTR books that have foreign language sources beyond the traditional French ones (Commines, etc).

This book is too long, so while I have given it five stars, I don't recommend it for people who only have a casual interest in Henry VII or the problem with pretenders in his reign.

By Jamie Adair

[Corey · Rating 2 out of 5]

When this book finally ended, I found myself confused about why it had dragged so horribly on through six months of reading. The topic is undeniably fascinating--on par with Russia's "lost" Romanovs, this book tells the story of England's lost royalty, Princes Edward and Richard. Despite the extremely interesting topic of a returning prince (or is he?), the book was, quite plainly, dull. It took me half a year to get through and it was only by forcing myself that I did finally finish it. The writing itself was spirited and the research was remarkable in its thoroughness but, apparently, this was not enough. With such a topic, the book should have been a fascinating breeze, but I am sorry to say it was not. It was, however, almost worth reading for the excellent final chapters, which were unexpectedly moving and well-written.

[Karoline · Rating 1 out of 5]

I really wanted to make this book work, but the writing style and approach of the author was difficult to read. She bounced back and forth so many times, the story did not progress. I've read lengthy non-fiction books that move well because the author has the ability to write in a way that flows well. This did not and I literally would fall asleep reading this.

[The Final Chapter · Rating 5 out of 5]

High 5. This work is an excellent piece of historical research and detection, where the author unlocks many of the mysteries surrounding the emergence of the pretender to the throne, Perkin Warbeck. Wroe reveals that less than a week after placing his youngest nephew in the Tower in June 1483, Richard had their bloodline declared invalid due to the illegitimacy of their parents’ marriage. It was claimed that their father Edward IV had been contracted to marry another noblewoman before choosing a Wydeville as his queen. This decision to remove the Princes from the line of the succession was ratified by Parliament. Contemporary chroniclers became convinced that the young princes had been murdered at some point during the summer or autumn of that year, which were repeated by foreign commentators in early 1484. If one investigates recent Yorkist history, it becomes clear that a pattern of violently removing rivals to the throne is easily discernible. The best illustration of this being the display of the bloodied corpse of Henry VI, possibly at the hands of a younger Richard, on the steps of St Pauls. Wroe discusses the evidence for the murder and reveals some interesting details. Firstly, there is the appointment of a new master joiner and master mason in the Tower in the summer of 1483 for unspecified duties, and then the bestowal of the position of Constable of the Tower on Robert Brackenbury for life, which raised eyebrows at the time. Yet, across Europe other rumours persisted that the princes had been removed abroad, and, interestingly, in January 1485 Sir James Tyrell was paid an enormous sum for services rendered in Flanders. Doubts remain as to the complicity of the Howards, whose acquisition of their Norfolk estates and the accompanying title was dependent on the proclamation of the youngest prince’s illegitimacy. So enthusiastically did they welcome the latter development, that young prince Richard, had been transported to the Tower in a barge paid for by the Howards. The author provides a detailed history of earlier claimants to the throne. Following the death of his own son in April 1484, Richard had declared his heir to be his nephew, the imprisoned Earl ff Warwick, but soon changed his opinion to make his other nephew, the Earl of Lincoln, heir-apparent refuting Warwick as feeble and simple-minded. Despite the latter’s continued imprisonment, in 1486 a pretender to the throne appeared in Ireland, claiming to be the rightful Earl of Warwick. Crowned as Edward VI in Dublin, in recognition of the legitimacy of his murdered cousin’s claim to the throne, in June 1487 he invaded England supported by Irish and German mercenaries. Defeated at the Battle of Stoke, it was revealed that his given name had been Lambert Simnel, who had been trained by an Oxford cleric to take on the guise of the nephew of Richard III, and would end his days in royal service as a falconer. Wroe offers her interpretation of the evidence as to the true nature of Perkin Warbeck. He claimed to be Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, and younger son of Edward IV, spared the fate of his elder brother, and secreted aboard. Yet, his signed confession revealed him to be the son of a customs collector, John Osbeck, from Tournai, on the border of France and Burgundy. Christened Piers, he had accompanied the household of Sir Edward Brampton to Portugal in 1487. The latter was an opportunist and traveller, born a Portuguese Jew who had converted to Christianity in England, and serving Edward IV as a merchant in exotic goods. There were doubts as to Brampton’s own legitimacy, and rumours of his escaping to England on a murder charge, and was expert at changing sides and his allegiance for political advantage. In July 1483 he was heavily rewarded for services to the Crown, and given estates in Northamptonshire for his support in squashing the rebellion of Buckingham. Though he fled to Portugal in the aftermath of Bosworth, his future was coloured more by financial opportunity than by Yorkist sympathy. It is interesting to note that Henry VII was aware of events in Lisbon, with payments to spies, including one to Edward Wydeville, uncle of the deceased princes, who made a detour to Lisbon in 1487 en route to fight the Moors in Granada, revealing his unease. The decision for the young pretender to travel to Ireland in the autumn of 1491 can be explained by the existence of strong Yorkist sympathies there, with fond memories persisting of the lieutenancy of the father of Edward IV. The latter had not tried to impose English customs on his Irish subjects as Henry VII now did, and given free rein to the Earls of Desmond and Kildare, who would become the staunch supporters of the claimant to the throne. In his confession, Warbeck would claim that he had served Brampton as a servant, and his arrival in Cork coincided with his being mistaken for the young prince, where events had soon lost control. Such claims conflict with the regal manner in which he arrived and was welcomed to Cork. Moreover, Henry certainly was already aware of the inherent danger of this young man, as from the moment he arrived in Ireland he was tracked by the Tudor regime’s network of spies, while garrisons in the south-west and Ireland itself were put on alert. Henry maintained that he always knew that the main figure in the creation of the pretence was Margaret of York, the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy, whose court became a haven for political refugees after Bosworth, and who knew Brampton personally. Her support, aside from famial loyalty, was motivated financially, not having received all her dowry from Edward IV, and needing her rights to export wool from England restored, which had been a lucrative source of income for her. She undoubtedly committed herself to the cause, openly declaring in 1490 that her nephew, the presumed murdered Richard, Duke of York, was very much alive. Though she never committed her support to paper, and sought the support of more powerful European rulers. This would be enthusiastically offered by Charles VIII of France, given Henry’s open support to his former protector’s daughter in Brittany against French territorial aspirations. Thus, Warbeck would be transported to Ireland aboard a ship provided by Charles, and he maintained interest in his pawn against English interests as a bargaining chip. His importance cannot be more clearly revealed than the fact that when the political situation during the course of 1492 became increasingly difficult for Warbeck to remain in Ireland, he was welcomed by Charles to his court as a 'cousin'. However, the limitations of his usefulness soon became apparent to the pretender, in that no military support would be provided for an invasion,and with the peace agreement between Charles and Henry in November 1492, he became increasingly concerned that he had served his purpose and would be handed over as part of the terms of their rapprochement. In fact, in a codicil to their peace agreement, both parties agreed in December not to harbour or support any rebels to their respective thrones. Therefore, Warbeck fled to Burgundy, probably with a 'nod' from Charles, and Margaret brought him to the attention of the newly crowned Emperor, Maximilian I. The latter had dynastic ambitions to recover territories in the west lost since the heyday of Charlemagne, and in return for his support, in January 1495 it was agreed that should this Richard die childless, he would accrue rights to the throne of England. The author provides excellent details as to how Henry set about derailing support for this continental pretender. With regards to domestic support, Henry utilised his agents to infiltrate the pretender's entourage, and also granting pardons in return for providing names and further information.The prime example of the latter concerned Sir Robert Clifford, who joined the pretender at the Burgundian court in 1493. Having been an ardent Yorkist supporter, after the defeat at Bosworth he had switched allegiance and served Henry in securing the Scottish border, together with fighting to defend his throne at Stoke. Yet, Clifford would be the man who would approach Sir William Stanley to support the claim of the arisen from the grave Richard, Duke of York. It has been argued that he did so as a double agent working on behalf of the Crown, but the truth is that he probably wavered at the offer of a royal pardon, returning to London in December 1494 and providing information leading to the arrest of his England-based co-conspirators. Chief among the latter was Stanley – the brother-in-law to Henry’s own mother whose support of the Tudor cause wavered before both Bosworth and Stoke, and having crowned Henry himself on the battlefield at Bosworth. Though Henry made pretence of astonishment at this discovery, he had had doubts over Stanley’s loyalty for a couple of years, and the latter was executed in February 1495. The other weapon Henry used against the conspiracy was financial – the threats of a financial embargo against Burgundy, which was heavily dependent on the import of English wool. Despite Margaret’s influence, real power in the kingdom laid with Philip the Fair, son of Maximilian. However, his father still held on to the pretender despite the best efforts Ferdinand and Isabella to persuade the Emperor to come to terms with Henry, anxious at French conquests in Italy after Charles’ invasion in 1494. Their proposal of a marriage between their daughter Juana and Philip the Fair of Burgundy was part of this same policy of creating a common front against French ambitions. Though the arrests and executions of early 1495 set back the invasion plans, Maximilian continued to finance these while maintaining the build-up of ships and troops in Dutch ports was merely to accompany his attempt to remove the pretender from his concern. The eventual landing near deal in Kent in July 1495 was a disaster, with the local populace turning on the rebels and killing around 150 of them on the beach, while another 160 were captured and sent to London in chains. The truth is probably that Henry had engineered this timing and landing spot through his infiltrators and led the pretender into a trap. Warbeck himself escaped with a skeleton fleet to Ireland, while this defeat eventually led to the dashing of Maximilian’s hopes and support, with the creation of the Holy League in September 1495 which included the Emperor and Henry amongst its ranks. Moreover, a trade agreement between Henry and Philip the Fair signed in early 1496 stipulated the ending of Margaret’s support to the rebels or punishment by loss of estates. In Ireland, the rebels joined forces with the Earl of Desmond, overlord of the south-west, who had begun a siege of Waterford to time in conjunction with the Deal landing. Kildare’s allegiance to the Crown having by this time been secured by royal pardon and his eldest son held in wardship as surety of his loyalty. The shipwreck of the pretender further up the coast and away from the action led to the failure to ignite rebellion, which in turn led Warbeck to seek refuge with a further supporter of his claim, James IV of Scotland. The latter was keen to lend his weight behind any campaign against Henry, as the latter was a staunch supporter of the Scottish rebels who denounced the rebellion of 1488 which had ousted James III in favour of his son. In addition, James sought to recapture Berwick and secure his borders, while cutting an influential figure on the European theatre. Henry was aware of the refuge lent to Yorkist sympathisers at James’ court, and the frequent sailings between Scotland and Flanders, as well as logistical support to the Deal invasion. Their previous collaboration can be attested to by the immediate marriage of Warbeck to Lady Katherine Gordon, daughter of the most influential noble in Scotland, and part of the Huntley clan. So assured were the latter in negotiations for titles and estates, that their willingness to agree to such a marriage with a wanderer and exile suggests influence from James himself. Their marriage in January 1496 certainly formed an unbreakable bond between the pretender and the Scottish monarch, as did their youthful recklessness and gullibility. To offset this threat, Henry had been pursuing the marriage of James to his own daughter Margaret, while James eagerly sought the pretender’s agreement to an invasion of England. The allies disagreed as to the nature of such an invasion, with James envisioning a border raid rather than a prolonged war, and that Richard would continue south with his English supporters. When the eventual invasion took place in September 1496, the obvious lack of groundswell support, due to fear of the presence of Scottish and German troops, led the former to revert to their usual pillage and disorder. Such behaviour led to a fierce disagreement between Richard and James, with the former returning to Edinburgh, while the latter continued to sack and burn till the arrival of a stronger English force. This abject failure still led to Henry’s declaration of war on Scotland, lest James relinquish the pretender, but the Scottish king continued his obstinate opposition, while Warbeck sought a future haven. During this time Warbeck had produced an heir so such foreign protection was now a necessity, but this desire clashed with the realpolitik which was governing affairs on the continent, where unity of purpose had to remain to counter French conquest. Support in Ireland had now dissipated with the oath of loyalty sworn by Desmond in March 1496, while domestic Yorkist sympathy had been decimated by the executions of 1495. The pressure on James to surrender Warbeck became relentless, while the Spanish devised a scheme to entice him to Spain where he would be pensioned off, thereby removing a dangerous obstacle to their marriage plans. Yet Richard departed Scotland in July 1497, with evidence suggesting that he had the west of England as his intended destination, while James would invade from north – tied to the pretender by such strong bonds, he could not abandon his support. It is unsure how Richard landed at Cork, but what is clear is that his former allies there now quickly encircled him to capture him for Henry. Although he was spirited away, Henry’s network of informers assured him of the pretender’s intended destination of Cornwall. The latter region, having already rebelled against Henry’s taxation and finance policies, had invited the pretender to be their figurehead. Tragically for Warbeck, his dreams of eventual glory, blinded him to the true potential of the Cornish revolt, having been smuggled out of Ireland aboard a Spanish ship and rejected the offer of safe conduct to the Spanish court. Unbelievably, having had his passage stopped by an English ship searching for him, and been hidden within a wine barrel, Warbeck could not gauge the level of threat which existed. Landing near Land’s End in September 1497 Warbeck was received with adulation and captured St Michael’s Mount where he left his wife and son. However, the rebellion had already lost momentum by the time of his arrival and James had lost patience and had launched a pre-emptive strike before the pretender had landed on English soil. Failing in his own siege of Exeter, he retreated east to Taunton into the path of the oncoming Tudor forces. Desertions quickly followed before his own flight to the coast on the eve of battle. With no means of escaping to sea, he took refuge with his family at Beaulieu monastery, before finally giving himself up to the offer of royal clemency at the end of September. Henry had earlier expressed his wish to capture the pretender alive, curious to meet this individual he had spent so much money and effort to defend himself against. Guaranteed escape from a death sentence should he confess to his true identity, the child-like twenty three year-old appeared to unburden himself of responsibility he previously, begrudgingly had accepted. Wroe reveals that, accordingly, at his confession Warbeck was asked by Henry if he recognised any of the noblemen present to which he responded no. The coterie of figures present consisted of those he should have been familiar with given the real identity of Richard, Duke of York. Moreover, the pretender had always commented to his European backers that upon meeting Henry he would reveal the birthmark which would attest to his princely identity, but nothing of the sort took place. Henry even took the opportunity to have Warbeck confess his real identity to his wife – Katherine’s reputed beauty had been known to Henry for years and he felt compassionate towards her as he considered her social rank and honour had been tainted by the deception. Though she pretended to be aghast at this discovery, she had known for some time what capture would mean in terms of the discovery of the true identity of her husband. There still remains the possibility that she had been so forewarned that this would be Henry’s strategy, that she may have still firmly believed her husband to be Richard, Duke of York. The author also suggests that the detailed nature of the confession indicates its veracity, with any mistakes due to the years of wandering Warbeck had to endure. This confession, obtained in Exeter, was all-important to Henry, as, unlike the Simnel affair, he had no living, breathing prince to prove the deception. In unraveling the truth behind the conspiracy, Henry was supported by information emanating from France, desperate to obtain an ally in their isolation against the Holy League. Henry’s clemency surprised all his European rivals as they expected a summary execution, but there were several underlying reasons for his merciful treatment of Warbeck. The first was that Warbeck had relinquished his sanctuary in the monastery on a promise of his safety; while secondly, it was the duty of a lord to show mercy, especially given Henry’s precedent in pardoning Simnel. It appears that Warbeck was paraded at court in the company of captured Indians from the New World, together with a bearded woman and a giantess from Flanders, till his midnight escape in June 1498 from an open window. The motives for such an escape appear nonsensical as he now put at risk the king’s clemency, but his character was one of a runaway all his life. The truth may be that this was a further case of entrapment by the king, for whom the pretender had become an embarrassment, and who was still in the throes of bargaining the marriage agreement for Catherine of Aragon to marry his eldest son Arthur, which still swayed on the security of his realm. Upon his capture, Warbeck was sent to the Tower, and was not seen for over twelve months before the emergence of a plot in August 1499. This plot centered on two prison wardens in charge of Warbeck and Warwick seizing and blowing up the Tower and escaping abroad with Henry’s treasury. These funds would then pay for a rebellion to place one of their charges on the English throne. Both Warbeck and Warwick knew of the plot but were so bewildered and demoralised that they assented to any suggestion their jailors made. Warbeck was sentenced to be hung, drawn, and quartered in November 1499, while Warwick’s sentence was commuted to beheading in deference to his rank. Warbeck’s wife Katherine remained in service to the queen till the latter’s death in 1503 but remained at court, probably as Henry’s lover. His son disappeared into obscurity, though there are claims he was raised as one Richard Perkins in South Wales.

[Timons Esaias · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have several issues with this book, rather severe, in fact, but it was still interesting. If you're going to read it, though, you need to understand that you can't really trust it as history.

I was given this in an ARC, and at first I thought some issues were because it hadn't been fact-checked yet. (I am regularly given ARCs in the hope that I'll read and review the book before it comes out. Which basically never happens.) I began comparing the text to the published version, and discovered that wasn't the case. The first thing that bothered me was on page 8 of my copy, when we're told about the malagueta peppers that Sir Edward Brampton imported (from West Africa) through Portugal. This is 1487. The malagueta pepper is from the not-yet-discovered New World. It was named after the melegueta pepper, which is unrelated, and West African. Since there are several sentences about this pepper, you'd think this would have been checked.

Then later she cites Washington Irving's book on Columbus as a source, which raised red flags for me. That's like citing The Onion. Washington Irving is the guy who saddled us with the myth that Europeans thought the world was flat, before Columbus decided to prove otherwise. No, they didn't. Not even slightly. The only disagreement was how big the sphere was, not whether the Earth was round. But Irving decided to just make shit up. Which he did. And Wroe uses him as a fact source.

Which leads to the central problem of this book: it is meant to foster mystery, not to penetrate it. In among the numerous facts and details is an extensive bullshitting agenda -- one should call it what it is -- meant to pad out what is not much real fact. What happened is that in the 1490s a young man (known to history as Perkin Warbeck) appeared in Europe claiming to be Richard, Duke of York; i.e. one of the presumed-to-be-murdered Princes of the Tower. This claim made him a pretender to the throne of England. He gathered a certain amount of Yorkist and Catholic support, and then made three feeble attempts to invade England. The final attempt, via Cornwall, ended in his capture, and eventual execution.

The chief thing we know about Perkin Warbeck is that his name wasn't Perkin Warbeck. Perkin, almost certainly not. Werbecque, possibly. And Wroe does a good job of making the case that very little of the "Confession" extracted from the pretender, and published by the English, makes any real sense. Things don't add up. Which is part of the mystery that makes all this intriguing.

There are lots of theories as to who he was, and Wroe brings up the reasons for the suspicions, and also the flaws. I think the book could have been fascinating if she'd done that in a straightforward fashion. But instead she wanted to tell a story, with specific actions and specific descriptions and specific character thoughts (like a novel, which one later learns was what she wrote (on this subject) in her youth); and specific chains of causality. So she cheats. The book is filled with perhapses and possiblies and most likelies and all sorts of tortured hedging. They seem mostly based on similar scenes we know about from history, or similar thoughts by characters in similar circumstances ... but now comes the worst part. When she is furthest out on a limb of speculation, she writes without qualifiers. She will describe a scene, in detail, at length, in the definite voice, that we have no data on whatsoever. This culminates in a description (I kid you not) of what his soul did after he died.

She crafts everything to keep all the speculative balls in the air, right to the end. She keeps hinting that maybe he really was Richard, but only on the scantiest of data points. She seems to secretly favor the idea that he was raised by Margaret of Burgundy from childhood, and was possibly an illegitimate York descendant; but again there are only some cutely suggestive facts, not actually connected dots.

There were enough clear errors of fact, or questionable assumptions (like assuming that Cabot never came back from his voyage), that I couldn't trust much of anything I was being told. And seeing how the narration was manipulated to keep the guessing game going ... well, it was annoying.

It did give me a list of things to double-check, though. She did a lot of research. And I learned some things I didn't know about the period, but had to double-check them all.

So, the book is kind of a fraud. An interesting one, you might find it fascinating, but still a fraud.

[Claire · Rating 4 out of 5]

Another feigned lad. Così, con un tono che mi piace immaginare stanco, Enrico VII parlava del nuovo pretendente che, dieci anni dopo Lambert Simnel, era sbarcato in Inghilterra per riprendersi il trono. Nel 1497 erano passati dodici anni da Bosworth Field.
Simnel, che si fingeva Edward of Warwick (figlio del duca di Clarence che era in realtà tenuto sotto chiave nella Torre di Londra) venne sconfitto e potè apprezzare la magnanimità del re che, invece di giustiziarlo, lo spedì nelle cucine reali.

La storia di questo secondo pretendente è molto più intricata. Non se ne sa con certezza assoluta neppure il nome, e nei documenti che, dai primi anni '90 fin dopo la morte (il 23 novembre 1498, giustiziato come un qualsiasi criminale per impiccagione, dopo aver tentato la fuga dalla Torre) viene chiamato in modi diversi: Perkin Warbeck, ma anche Piers Osbeck, a volte Peter, Pirichino dagli ambasciatori italiani, e Duca di York, come pretendeva di essere.

Perkin è il nome con cui è ricordato, originario delle Fiandre, figlio di un barcaiolo, di madrelingua francese. Alla fine del libro l'autrice ci dice però che potrebbe essere stato un orfano, chiamato Jehan le Sage, che Margaret of York aveva raccolto e fatto educare in uno dei suoi palazzi. Jehan scompare dalle carte alla fine del 1485, dopo la sconfitta di Riccardo III, ed è affascinante l'ipotesi (impossibile da verificare) che, dopo la morte del fratello e la fine della sua casata, Margaret l'abbia messo da parte per farlo anni dopo riapparire come Perkin/Richard Duke of York.

There were many who would say, in the years to come, that Richard Plantagenet was just such a masterpiece: cut from the block in Tournai, sculpted and painted in Burgundy, and then exhibited everywhere.

Perkin Warbeck è un mistero dentro un mistero, quello dei principini nella Torre, i figli di Edoardo IV scomparsi nel nulla pochi mesi dopo l'usurpazione di Riccardo III. Presentato nelle corti europee come il bambino scampato alla morte, il giovane diceva di non ricordare molto della sua fuga e degli anni successivi. La ricostruzione dei suoi passi mostra che da Tournai fu in Portogallo, e dal Portogallo in Irlanda, e poi nuovamente nelle Fiandre, a cercare l'appoggio delle potenze straniere per invadere l'Inghilterra e riprendersi ciò che era suo. In Inghilterra ci arrivò, dopo un primo tentativo fallito, passando per la Scozia dove, ospite di Giacomo IV, si sposò con una nobildonna locale.
Nel 1497 finalmente sbarcò in Cornovaglia. Sconfitto nell'indifferenza generale del popolo inglese a cui, più che del diritto di nascita, importava della pace, si rifugiò nell'Abbazia di Beaulieu ma nel giro di due settimane venne convinto ad arrendersi. Sic transit gloria mundi, commentò Massimiliano d'Asburgo quando venne a sapere della sconfitta, continuando in tutti i documenti a chiamarlo York.

Libro molto lungo, denso, Perkin non è, esattamente, una biografia di questo ragazzo. È piuttosto un'indagine sull'identità, sull'immagine, su come chi mostriamo d'essere diventi chi effettivamente siamo, se è tutto ciò che facciamo vedere e ciò che informa le nostre azioni. Nell'introduzione Ann Wroe dice che il suo scopo non è svelare, appunto, la sua vera identità (era sicuramente un impostore, ma non essendoci corpi dei due principini non se ne può avere la matematica certezza) ma, al contrario, "to free him from the tiranny of forced identities". "I sometimes felt as I wrote that this book is not so much about one man as about the human soul: about the 'I' that exists apart from the names we are given".
Ed è una sorta di dietro le quinte di una cospirazione, che ci porta nei meandri dei palazzi dove nascevano i complotti, nelle corti europee dove principi decisero di stare al gioco.
Ma è anche la storia di questo ragazzo, che fu sì giustiziato giovanissimo ma ebbe anche l'occasione di fare quello che era impensabile per qualcuno della sua estrazione sociale, di vivere la vita di un principe, brevemente, di essere un principe. Impersonare Richard significava esserlo, vivere dalla zia Margaret, andare a caccia con un imperatore, essere accolto come un re in Irlanda. Non tutto, ma non poco.

[Kate Millin · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found this book quite dense and difficult to read for long periods (although some of that might have been the fact that I was unwell). The information about Perkin was interesting, but I felt there was a lot of padding about other things that were happening, or possibly happening that were not needed and which made following the main thread about Perking himself difficult to follow. The author also makes no conclusions about the truth of Perkins claims, but does seem quite balanced in her approach.

In 1491, as Machiavelli advised popes and princes and Leonardo da Vinci astonished the art world, a young man boarded a ship in Portugal bound for Ireland. He would be greeted upon arrival as the rightful heir to the throne of England. The trouble was, England already had a king.

The most intriguing and ambitious pretender in history, this elegant young man was celebrated throughout Europe as the prince he claimed to be: Richard, Duke of York, the younger of the “Princes in the Tower” who were presumed to have been murdered almost a decade earlier. Handsome, well-mannered, and charismatic, he behaved like the perfect prince, and many believed he was one. The greatest European rulers of the age—among them the emperor Maximilian, Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, and Charles VIII of France—used him as a diplomatic pawn to their own advantage. As such, he tormented Henry VII for eight years, attempting to invade England three times. Eventually, defeated and captured, he admitted to being Perkin Warbeck, the son of a common boatman from Flanders. But was this really the truth?

[Tamara]

I am not far in, but am disturbed by the writer's overt racist language, completely inappropriate for a nonfiction 21st Century book of history. She doesn't just quote original sources, she includes lengthy passages of her own original writing, perhaps (but not obviously) intended to reflect the point of view of medieval Europeans, but why? Why use the word "Negro" as a descriptor in 21st Century American writing about Africans, just because she's referencing a historical period? It doesn't even make sense if she's intending some kind of linguistic link to Portuguese. It's racist, repugnant, and in line with how she plays fast and loose with historical facts and figures to create a pseudo-nonfictional story. Her choice of a thoroughly and deeply racist point of view, to which she yokes Christianity, is the opposite of what a responsible 21st Century historian would do with this material, which would be to describe without imputing or embellishing from her racist imagination. A critical writer doesn't embrace racism with such untoward enthusiasm, or gloss over, or whitewash it--a thoughtful critical writer provides contextual explanations, descriptions, critiques, insights. This writer sounds like she'd happily present Gone With the Wind as historical fact and play dress-up in a Hollywood version of plantation privilege. Ugh... I'm setting it aside. I think this book deserves a trigger warning for its completely unnecessary racist point of view.

[Sarah - All The Book Blog Names Are Taken · Rating 2 out of 5]

I so badly wanted to love this book. The princes are far too fascinating to ever be considered a boring subject.

Unfortunately Wroe is simply not a great writer. Far too many suppositions, presuming what these people might have been thinking 500 years ago. I will say that when she is sticking to facts, I take far less issue with her writing. But when she meanders around and goes off the deep end for a few lines, no thank you.

You can't help but feel bad for this young man, whoever he might have been. Whether he really was Richard, Duke of York (doubtful), or the son of a boatman from Tournai, he'd told the story so many times he must've believed it. But at the same time I want to reach back in time, grab him by the shoulders and shake him, asking him if he really thinks he can pull this off?! He must've believed it, right up to the end, or his escape makes no sense. And poor Warwick, another lost soul who had no idea what he was doing or what was going on.

But seriously, I can do without the ridiculous end, where Wroe imagined what the time after his death might've been like. Passages like that have a place in historical fiction perhaps, but not a text that is supposed to be dealing in facts.

[Thomas · Rating 3 out of 5]

A very well-written book about a little-know part of British history. The standard (official) history says that Richard III had the two princes killed in the tower of London, and that the wars of the Roses left the Tudors firmly on the throne of England with no major dynastic concerns. This book shows that not only did Henry VII (Tudor) have several major rebellions and intrigues, but that it is possible that one of the two princes didn't die in the Tower (thus leaving alive the "rightful" heir to Edward III and thus the legitimate king of England.

This is a fairly long book, and not enough information exists about Perkin Warbeck to make up a book this long. The author, however, wrote long sections explaining the lifestyle, customs, religious beliefs, and major events of the period to give the reader a thorough understanding of what went on at the time, and why.

This book is certainly a must-read for anyone studying British history of the period. I am not usually fond of British history myself, but found it to be extremely interesting and well worth the time to read.

[Kathy · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book came highly recommended by members of the Richard III Society, American Branch (of which I am a member). Yes, Ms. Wroe goes into great detail and at times seems to be going off on a tangent, but then she pulls everything back into a cohesive whole. It is also extremely readable, often more like reading a novel than a scholarly biography.

As someone who has long been interested in the people and events involved in the era known as The Wars of the Roses, and in all things concerning Richard III, I've always wanted to know more about the "Pretenders" -- Lambert Simnel and, more specifically, Perkin Warbeck. Is it possible that Richard III, the Wicked Uncle of history, didn't really have his nephews killed? Could Perkin have really been young Richard of York? That is the premise of this book, trying to clear up the mystery that is Perkin Warbeck.

For those interested in reading a well written, historical biography, this book is one you should check out.

[Patty · Rating 3 out of 5]

Nonfiction about the man who may, or may not, have been one of the "princes in the tower". During the Wars of the Roses in 1483, two orphaned princes of England were put into the Tower of London by their uncle, Richard III. They were never seen again. As everyone from Shakespeare on down has assumed, they most likely were murdered by their uncle to better emphasize his own claim to the throne. However, in 1490 a young man appeared who claimed to be the younger of the two princes: Richard, who was 9 when last seen and would have been about 18 at this point. This maybe-Richard claimed that he had been spared, since after all he wasn't the heir to the throne and the man assigned to actually do the deed of killing the children had been his godfather. Since then, Richard had been living in hiding, but now as an adult he was ready to claim his throne (which in the meantime had passed from Richard III to Henry VI, or in other words from the Yorks to the Lancasters). Maybe-Richard was eventually captured and executed by Henry VI but first, under duress, gave a confession claiming that he was really Perkin Warbeck, a poor boatman's son from Flanders.

Maybe-Perkin has never been taken seriously by historians as a real descendant of royalty, but The Perfect Prince argues that he deserves a second look. Perkin/Richard's claim was supported by multiple people who had seen Prince Richard before his disappearance – including, most importantly, his aunt Margaret of Burgundy. There are also several holes in the Perkin story: the young man could speak fluent English, which would have been unusual for someone raised in Flanders; there are multiple, contradictory confessions of his childhood, none of which seem to reflect reality; his supposed family in Flanders continued to live peaceful, unimportant, undisturbed lives, which seems odd if they really had a son leading armies in England. Or even afterwards – shouldn't Henry VI have wanted their presence, or just their testimony, to help prove that the person he had captured wasn't Prince Richard?

Wroe isn't entirely convinced that this young man was Richard; she just wants to keep her options open. She even suggests several additional possibilities: that he was an illegitimate brother to the real Richard, thereby indeed being descended from English royalty even if he never had to escape from the Tower; that he was a child raised by Margaret from a young age with the explicit purpose of turning him into a pretender, giving a random nobody the education and bearing to convince others that he was a prince. But Wroe's main interest is not the "truth" of who this person was (which honestly is probably long lost to the mist of time; it's extremely unlikely anyone will ever be able to prove if he was or wasn't Richard), but all the other questions his story opens up: what did it mean to be a prince in the 1400s? How did one demonstrate or recognize princeliness? How does anyone know the truth of who they are? Do certain claims seem believable only because they benefit us in other ways, while some claims seem unbelievable only because they would cost us?

These are all fascinating topics, but unfortunately Wroe's writing doesn't show them to their best advantage. I found it particularly difficult to keep track of who was who – there seemed to about seventeen important Richards, and equal numbers of Edwards and Henrys – which is a problem that plagues all writing about medieval England, but Wroe's style certainly doesn't help matters. She additionally has an annoying habit of referring to "the king", which is entirely useless when there are four people claiming to be the King of England alone, not to mention the kings of Scotland, France, Spain, and the Holy Roman Empire, all of whom also play major parts. It's a slog of a book, long and dense, despite the very exciting subject.

In addition to the confusing and overlong writing, there’s a bizarrely racist interlude early in chapter one. It’s brief and barely connected to the main point of the book (both versions of the story, Perkin or Prince Richard, claimed to have worked as a page in Portugal in his early teenage years, where he may have met some Africans), but the fact that it occurred so early on really colored my opinion of Wroe for the subsequent 500 pages. Here's some excerpts:
“Their darkness came in different gradations, from the almost-white Berbers and Moroccans to the near-black Canarians, jumping and hooting and cave-dwelling, and the jet-black Guineans."
"Yet his [Bemoy, King of the Jalofs in Senegal, who was visiting the Portuguese court] skin was blue-black; the hair on his head was short and crinkled, like dry black moss; and his hands when he held them out had pale pink undersides, as if that part only had been touched by God. […] Bemoy himself, with his broad black face and his carefully copied courtesy, perhaps barely understanding what he had done [converted to Christianity]."
"The holy baptismal water had flowed over [Bemoy], though it did not run down, as on Christians, but caught in his tight curls like dew. […] But he remained berry-black, ink-black, raven-wing black, with no outward sign that salvation might have been effected in him. In his own country, among his own people, it was always likely that some other Bemoy would appear: imperious, confident, violent, even devilish, his blackness finally overpowering all the grace that had been poured out on him."
To give Wroe the benefit of the doubt, perhaps she meant to portray the mindset of the average white 15th century European, but goddamn that is a lot of othering language.

In short: an amazing topic stymied by an inadequate author.

[Elizabeth Ashworth · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book has given me so much to think about. It seems that the old stories of the 'pretenders to the throne' that I was taught at school may be too simplistic and possibly not even true. This book is beautifully written and immaculately researched and it has made me believe that 'Perkin Warbeck' was a convenient name given by Henry VII to a young man who could actually have been Richard, Duke of York.

This is a reference book which I will return to again and again. It's one that I enjoyed reading and one that I would recommend if you enjoy history or even mysteries.

[Christopher Roth · Rating 5 out of 5]

Brilliantly researched and argued. It has me convinced that the balance of evidence indicates strongly that "Perkin Warbeck" was the rightful Richard IV. Why is this a minority opinion among historians? It's amazing that the Tudor so successfully bullied historians like Sir Thomas More and others into getting behind the "Warbeck" version of events that that prejudice still lingers. Come on, people! Just look at the evidence, and I promise no one will behead you. The Tudors took power utterly illegally, but what's done is done.

[Jamie Collins]

Hmm, I didn't notice the page count before I ordered this. I'm interested in Warbeck, but I'm not sure I'm 600 pages worth of interested.

ETA March 2013: I started this, but the first couple of chapters were rambling and poetical, which is not really what I want in a history book. Put aside to try again later.

[Hannah Kelly · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book was really dense. I didn't go into it expecting an easy read but I found my mind drifting through the extraneous details. I'm sure this book would be a good source for a paper though as it is very well written and scholarly.

[Redsteve · Rating 2 out of 5]

Annoyingly padded with trivia. This book could have been 2/3's shorter if it had been written assuming that the reader knew a bit about the renaissance.

[Sue Robinson · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm ashamed to say that I gave up on this book. Probably not a good choice to read when you are unwell.

[Simon · Rating 4 out of 5]

I loved it, although I'm not sure it is history as much as channeling.

[Marisa · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was one of the best biographies I have read. Ever. The subject, Perkin Warbeck, or possibly Richard, Duke of York, the second son of Edward IV, is a mysterious figure in history. He seemed to appear out of nowhere during the reign of Henry VII to exert his right to the throne as the only surviving son of Edward IV, but then he disappears just as quickly. The author wove a fascinating story around this young man, leaving no archival document unread or obscure chronicler unquoted in her quest to explain who he was, or rather, who all the kings and nobles around him created him to be. She did a marvelous job of presenting all the facts as we know them from original sources and then walking the reader through every possible conclusion that could be drawn from the evidence, even if there were contradictory conclusions. Not once did she take a stance on who she believes this young man to be, and I honestly still have no idea if he was the real long lost son of Edward IV or not. In the end, that doesn’t even matter to me, because she wrote the most fascinating book about a mystery that will probably never be solved. And in some way, because of that, she gave this obscure figure in history his story back.

[Jane · Rating 1 out of 5]

This was a pure slog for me. The only reason I stuck with it is because I'd never heard the story before and I'm a sucker for this period in history.

The author frequently goes down side alleys regarding the norms and manners of the period, but in a way that often left me wondering what the tie was to the main storyline. Personally, these lengthy perambulations seemed better suited to being presented as sidebars rather than embedded in the story itself.

There's also a mind-boggling amount of minutiae concerning the subject's (probable?) early life, (probable?) family connections, and various (probable?) interactions prior to embarking on the new persona, much of which is rehashed a second time towards the end of the book. It's hard to believe that there's this much mundane family detail in existence from such a remote time period.

This was far too much book for someone who ended up being such a vague entity. Baffling.

[Lauren · Rating 3 out of 5]

Holy crap!! This is a well written book & very well researched. I can only imagine the time it took to get this book together. That said, the book is over 500 pages + 55 pages (roughly) of notes. There is just SO MUCH going on in this book - comments on the papacy, other courts. Look, here's what I want to know: How did other courts react to Perkin Warbeck (aka Richard Plantagenet)? How did he keep getting away from Henry VII? Was Perkin ACTUALLY Richard? Did the two princes REALLY die in the Tower of London? Oh! And with some info on the previous English royal family (Edward III, Elizabeth Woodville, & their brood) & info on the English royal family that was current when Perkin Warbeck was running around. Everything else seemed to fall along the lines of "sometimes more is just more."