''^ Prei'ented to The Cornell University, 1869, Goldwin Smkh, M. A. Oxon., Regius Profeffor of Hiftoiy in the Univerfity of Oxford. _ Cornell University Librarv DA 260J58 Memoirs of King Richard the Third and so 3 1924 027 929 375 Cornell University Library The original of tliis book is in tlie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027929375 MEMOIRS KING EICHAED THE THIED XOJfDON PRINTED BT S r OTTISWO OB H AMD CO. NHW-bTliBKT BQUAUB L... 'Rici-ard' mt tertos PBOM TUE oRK^itlAL fN Til K rOKSESSUiN OFTUF, son i.vi'Y oi' AN'ni.iiiMsiEt; on.li.h, IVu luHil l'.< iiUcv, IS-ll' PREEACE. The miscellaneous character of this work seems to demand some explanation, if not apology, from the author. Had he commenced his labours with the original and definite piupose of writing Memoirs of Eichard III. or of his times, the reader would have been spared these observations. But such was not the case. This volume, in fact, emanated indirectly in the drama which forms a portion of its pages. The neces- sity of acquiring a knowledge of the characters and motives of action of the different historical personages, whom the author proposed to introduce among his dra- matis personce, entailed on him some amount of hterary research. The author found his task an agreeable one. By degrees he collected the materials which constituted the groundwork of the several memoks in this volume. That which pleased himself, he thought, might possibly please others. As fresh facts and anecdotes increased on his hands, he had, of course, the option of recon- structing his labours, and substituting a more regular, and perhaps a more ambitious plan. But it is not always that a hterary work is improved by being diverted from its original design, and accordingly the author decided on adhering to the plan which he VI PBEFACE had at first adopted. To the merit of novelty, whether of facts or arguments, he can prefer but a very trifling claim. To compress scattered and curious information, and, if possible, to amuse, have been the primary ob- jects of the author. If he shall in any degree have succeeded in this latter object, the thanks of the reader are mainly, if not entirely, due to those harvest-lords in the field of old historical hterature, whose learned and diligent researches have left but Httle to be gleaned by those who follow in their footsteps. The obligations imder which the author has to the labours of Mr. Sharon Turner, Dr. Lingard, Mss Halsted, Sir N. Harris Nicolas, Sir Henry Elhs, Mr. Bruce, and Mr. John G. Nichols, he would indeed be ungrateful if he omitted to acknowledge. To Mr. T. Duffus Hardy and Mr. James Gairdner, he takes this opportunity of expressing his thanks, as well for the courtesy which he personally experienced from them, as for the valuable assistance which he has derived from their literary pubHcations. To such other persons who have kindly responded to his inquiries, or who have in any way aided the performance of his task, the author also begs to tender his thanks. J. H. J. London : Septemboi- 18G1. CONTENTS. Memoirs of King Richard III. . . . . Margaret Countess of Eichmond and Derby Henrt Earl of Richmond, afterwards King Henry VII. The Princess Elizabeth of York, afterwards Queen of Henry VII. ..... Thomas Lord Stanley, afterwards Earl of Derby Henry Lord Clifford, " The Shepherd-Lord " The Last War of the Roses Notes to the Drama Appendix Postscript . Index 1 237 271 303 335 351 377 495 497 506 515 ERRATA. Pago 127, in the margin opposite line 24, for " July 23," read " June 25." „ 138, lines 27 and 28, for " 23rd of July, the day on which," read " 25th of June, two days after which." ,, 148, line 18, for "Warwick," read " Salisbury." „ 264, line 13, for "Fox," read "Fisher." MEMOIRS OF KING RICHARD III. CHAPTEE I. THE WAKS OF THE KOSES. At the time wten Eicliard Duke of Gloucester won chap. his first laurels in high command at the battle of Barnet, . _ •*;• he was only in the nineteenth year of his age. Few, however, as were the years which had passed over his head, he was old enough to have witnessed the commencement of that fierce and memorable contest between the houses of York and Lancaster, which deluged the battle-field and the scaffold with blood, and which, fourteen years after the battle of Barnet, was destined to be brought to a close by his own vio- lent death on the field of Bosworth. In the course of that long and terrible contest, thirteen pitched battles were fought ; three kings met vdth untimely ends, and twenty-six knights of the Garter perished either by the sword or by the hand of the executioner. The ancient nobility of England was almost entirely annihilated. Of the royal house of Plantagenet, Eichard Duke of York, and his son the Earl of Eutland, were slain at the battle of Wakefield ; the Duke of Clarence died the death of a traitor ; Edward V. and his brother the Duke of York were B 2 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, murdered in the Tower of London ; and lastly, their \- . xuicIl', Kichard III., was killed at Bosworth. Of the house of Lancaster, King Henry VI. perished mys- teriously in prison ; his son, Edward Prince of Wales, was slain at Tewkesbury. Of the kindred of Queen Elizabeth Woodville, the consort of Edward IV., her father, Eichard Earl Eiveis, and her brother. Sir John Woodville, were beheaded at Northampton; her husband, John Lord Grey of Groby, fell at the second battle of St. Albans ; her son. Sir Eichard Grey, was beheaded at Pomfret, and on the same scaffold perished her brother, the accomphshed Anthony Wood- \'ille. Earl Eivers. Of the royal house of Beaufort, Edmund Duke of Somerset, formerly Eegent of France, was slain at the first battle of St. Albans ; Henry, the second Duke, was beheaded after the battle of Hexham; Edmund, the third Duke, was beheaded after the batde of Tewkesbury ; and in the same battle was slain Sir John Beaufort, son of the first Duke. Of the great house of Stafford, Humphrey Earl of Stafford feU at the first battle of St. Albans ; his father, Humplu-ey Duke of Buckingham, fell at the battle of Xorthampton; Heiuy, the second Duke, was beheaded at Salisbury; and, of another branch of the Staffords, Humphrey Earl of Devon perished on the scaffold at Bridgewater. Of the house of Neville, Eichard Earl of Salisbury was beheaded after the battle of Wakefield ; his sons, Eichard Earl of Warwick, the " Kingmaker," and John Marquis of Montagu, fell at Barnet : a thii'd son, Sir Thomas Neville, fell at Wakefield ; Sir John No\-iUe was killed at the battle of Towton ; Sir Hemry Xex-ille, sou and heir of Ealph Lord Latimer, was beheaded after the battle of Banbury, and Sir Humphrey Neville and liis brother Charles, afler the battle of llexham. Of tlie INacies, Ileury second Earl of Northumberland, one of till! licroes of 7\gincourt, fell at the first battle of St. Albans ; two of his gallant sons, Henry, the third 4 KING EICIIAED THE THIRD. CHAP. Howard, Duke of Norfolk, and Walter Devercux, Lord ^; , Ferrers of Cliartley. Lastly, on the scaffold perished William Herbert, Earl of ri^mbioke; John Tiptoft, Earl of W6rcester ; Junics Butler, Earl of Wiltshire ; Wilham Bonville, Lord Bonville ; Wilham Lr^rd Hastings; and Sk Owen Tudor, grandfather of King Henry ML Although the tender years of Lieliard of Gloucester had prevented his bearing a part in the earher struggles between the houses of York and Lancaster, he had not been exempted from the extraordinary vicissitudes which for so many years had befallen his race. He had shared their flight Avhen capture would probably have been death. He had worn the garb of woe for many a near and illustrious relative, and had doubtless personally Avitnessed many of those disasters, which desolated ahke the hall of the baron and the cottage of the peasant.. As associated, therefore, with the stoiy of his boyhood, — and also as throwing a light on the motives which subsequently influenced his conduct in manhood, and the circumstances which incited him to seize a crown, — it may not be inexpedient to intixxluce a brief summary of the stirring events, which imme- diately preceded the first appearance of Eichard Duke of Gloucester on the great stage of the world. Wlien the misconduct and raisgovernment of Eich- ard n. induced his indignant subjects to rise in rebel- hon against him, it proved to be a great calamity to England that the prince of the house of Plantagenet whom they elected to reign in his stead was not also, by the laws of lineal inheritance, the nearest in succes- sion to the throne. Heurv Bolino;broke, Duke of Lan- casttT, wlio succeeded by the title of King Henry IV., was desfvuded IVom John of Gaunt, Duke of Lrn- caslci-, fourth, son of I'Mward 111. But that mon- ai'cli li;i(l iilso left, desi'cndants by his third son, l/ioiiel Duke of Clarence, which descendants, on the e\e of tlie Wars of llu' liosos, were represented by the KINO RICIIAED THE TIIIED. CHAP. I. n © ^ [-. m.Sb KING EICHAED THE THIKD. 3 Earl, and Sir Eichard Percy, were slain at Towton ; a chap. third son, Thomas Lord Egremont, perished at the ^• battle of Northampton, and a fourth son, Sir Ealph Percy, at Hedgeley Moor. Of the house of Talbot, John second Earl of Shrewsbury, and his brother Sir Christopher Talbot, were slain at Northampton ; their kinsman, Thomas Talbot, Lord Lisle, feU ia a skirmish at Wotton- under-Edge. Of the Courtenays, Thomas sixth Earl of Devon was beheaded after the battle of Towton ; Henry, the seventh Earl, was beheaded at Sarum ; and at Tewkesbury was slain their only remaining brother, John, the eighth Earl. Of the De Veres, John twelfth Earl of Oxford, and his eldest son Sir Aubrey de Vere, perished together on the scaffold on Tower HOI. Of the Cliffords, Thomas, the eighth Lord, was slain at the first battle of St. Albans, and his son John, the ninth Lord, at the battle of Towton. Of the house of Hunger- ford, Eobert third Baron Hungerford was beheaded after , the battle of Hexham ; and his heir. Sir Thomas Hun- gerford, was beheaded at Sahsbury. Of the Bour- chiers, Humphrey Lord CromweU was slain at the battle of Barnet, and Sir Edward Bourchier, brother of Henry Earl of Essex, at Wakefield. Lastly, of the house of Welles there perished the representatives of three generations : Leo Lord Welles was slain at the battle of Towton ; his son, Eichard Lord Welles and WiUoughby, and his grandson Sir Eobert Welles, seve- rally perished by the axe of the executioner. Long as is this catalogue of slaughtered heroes, there might be appended to it many other, and no less illustrious names. At the battle of Bloreheath was slain James Touchet, Lord Audley ; at the battle of Northampton, John Viscount de Beaumont ; at Wake- field, WiUiam BonvOle, Lord Harrington ; at Tewkes- bury, John Lord Wenlock ; at Towton, Eanulph Lord Dacre of GiUesland ; and at Bosworth, John B 2 8 KING RICIIAED THE THIRD. CHAP, valour and military ability. Before; he was eighteen __4~ years of age he luid In^en preferred before the Duke of Somerset to be Regent (jf France. The Duke of York was apparently in his thirty- third year, when the spirit of disafTection which pervaded England naturally revived the long dormant hopes of the elder branch of the Plantagenets. At the period of which Ave are speaking, he ^vas holding his court in Ireland, of which island he had rendered himself the idolized governor. But though absent, his friends in England had kept him constantly suppUed with intelligence, and had assiduously watched over his interests. Their primary object had been to fami- harise the pubhc mind with his claims, and gradually to prepare the people to receive him as their ruler. Accordingly, his subordinate partisans received instmc- tions to chscuss and maintain his claims in all public places, to extol the services which, as a soldier and a statesman, he had rendered to the State, and es- pecially to draw invidious comparisons between the eminent administrative abilities of the duke, contrasted with the misgovernment of the queen and the imbe- cihty of her consort. By these means the party of the Duke of York was daily becoming more formidable in the State, when the 1450. breaking out of the formidable p(^pidar tumult, known as Jack Cade's insurrection, seemed to invite the duke openly to espouse the cause of the jieople. and. at the same time, to assert his legitimate rights. Tempting, however, as the opportunity appeared to be, he allowed it to slip by. Not improbably he may have shrunk from the responsibility of being the first to entail on his country lli(> horrors of civil war; or, not impossibly, he may Jmve imngined that, sooner or later, the imprudent condnct of llie (pieiai must lead to his being called to the tlirone by the general voii'e of the people, and thus relieve him lioni the hateful necessity of unsheathing I. KING EICHAED THE THIED. 5 house of York. Thus the parhamentary title to the chap. crown appertained to the house of Lancaster ; the hereditary right belonged to the house of York.* So long as the sceptre of England was swayed by the strong grasp of Henry IV., and afterwards by that of his son Henry V'., the scions of the elder branch of the hne of Plantagenet were reduced to figure at the court of their rivals as simple princes of the blood, with httle prospect of recovering their inheritance. But to the wise and vigorous rule of the victor of Agincourt, had succeeded the dominion of a prince whose piety and chastity justly obtained for him the admiration of the wise and good, but who, on the other hand, was lamentably deficient in that firmness and energy of miad which, especially in fierce and turbu- lent times, are required in those who are called upon to govern kingdoms. Taken from a cradle to sit upon a throne, the imbecile Henry VI. had reigned nearly thirty years over England, when the continued maladministra- tion of his affairs by incompetent ministers at length raised such an amount of indignation in the breasts of his subjects, as to threaten the subversion of the throne of which he was the innocent usurper. Seldom had the royal treasury been known to be in a more exhausted state. Seldom had the administration of justice been more tardy. Never, perhaps, had the sherifis of counties, and the collectors of taxes, been more arbitrary in their proceedings, or more extortionate in their exactions. Never, perhaps, had the arrogance and the luxurious habits of the prelates, as weU as the scandalous immo- rahties and neghgence of the clergy in general, entailed greater disrepute upon the Church. The great barons, too, had their especial grounds for complaint. Deeply * The annexed genealogical table will explain the descent from King Edward III., as well as the relationship by blood or marriage, of some of the principal persons subsequently mentioned in these memoirs. B 3 10 KINO EICIIARD THE THIRD. CHAP, the Duke of York on the other, had now become a war ]■ . to the knife. The latter, indeed, still shrank from ad- vancing his title to the crown, but he no longer hesitated to appeal to arms. His friends were entreated to meet him in the marches of Wales. The EarLs of Sahsbury and Warwick and Lord Cobham speedily joined his standard. He had soon the satisfaction of seeing him- self at the head of three thousand men. In the mean time Somerset had not been idle. Having collected a force nearly equal to that of the Yorkists, he induced the king to accompany him on his march, and boldly advanced to give battle to the insurgents. Thus commenced the terrible and bloody struggle between the houses of York and Lancaster. The first blood Avas shed at the battle of St. Albans, on the 22nd of May 1455. The Yorkists proved victorious. On the side of the king were slain the Duke of Somerset, the Earl of Northumberland, the Earl of Stafford, eldest son of the Duke of Buckingham, and Thomas Lord Clifford. The king himself Avas wounded in the neck with an arrow, and fell into the hands of the Yorkists. Signal, however, as was the duke's success, he still continued to exercise that moderation and caution which ever cha- racterised his policy. Incontrovertible as were his claims to the throne by right of hereditary descent, he probably felt that unless his title were also solemnly recognized by parhament, his triumph must necessarily be but brief Accordingly paiiiament was appealed to by him, and, to his disappointment, -was appesUed to in vain. The barons, instead of inviting him to ascend the throne, solemnly renewed their oatlis of fealty to the king ; the lords spiritual laying their hands upon their breasts, the lords tcmpoi-al placing their hands within (hose of the king. But, unhappily for Henry, li(^ liad scarcely riH'eivetl the congratulations of his friends when he relapsed into his former state of mental inca])aeity. Again the Duke of York was in- KING EICHAED THE THIBD. 7 they resented the influence which William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk, a man of plebeian origin, had acquired over the weak kiag and his accomphshed consort. Deeply they felt the loss of the rich provinces of Anjou and Maine, by which Henry had far too dearly pur- chased the hand of the beautiful Margaret of Anjou. Moreover, the ancient glory of England had been tarnished by the disasters and defeats, which she had encountered in her recent contest with France. It was felt by all classes that, since the Conquest, no greater misfortune had befallen England than the loss of JSTor- mandy with her seven bishoprics and one hundred chiu-ches. All ranks of society admitted the existence of intolerable grievances. In all quarters there was a cry for redress. Unfortunately for the house of Lancaster, the head of the rival house of York happened, at this crisis, to be a prince eminently quahfied to carry on a success- ful competition for empire, whether the occasion might require wisdom in the closet, or personal valour on the battle-field. Eichard Plantagenet, Duke of York, was the grandson of Edmund of Langley, Duke of York, fifth son of Edward III. It was not, however, from his paternal descent, but from being the representative of Philippa, daughter and heiress of Lionel Duke of Clarence, the third son of Edward III., that he founded his title to the throne. Brave, discreet, and gifted with abihties considerably above the ordinary standard, — possessed, moreover, of vast wealth and of princely territories, — beloved by the people, and aUied, by blood or by marriage, to the most powerful barons of England, — so powerful a subject as the Duke of York might well have been regarded with appre- hension and jealousy by a monarch far more energetic than the spiritless Henry, and far better capable of coping vsdth an ambitious rival. While yet a boy, Eichard had distinguished himself by his personal b4 12 KINO EICIIAKD THE THIED. CHAP, seems, confidently believed in the efficacy of being ^- , prayed foi- by others ; and accordingly appUcations, real or fictitious, were read to him from Ms nobles, soliciting permission to visit the shrines on the continent for the purpose of praying for his recovery. Again, his mind having become harassed by thoughts of the exhausted state of his treasury, he was not only deluded with assurances that it was in a satisfactory condition, but that it was about to be replenished with inexhaustible gold. Lastly, music was found to soothe his distemper, and forthwith the sheriffs of counties were directed to look out for beautiful boys skilled in minstrelsy, and to despatch them to the court. At length the clouds which had darkened the king's mind passed completely away. It happened that business had called the Duke of York away from court, and accordingly the queen resolved to take every ad- vantage of his absence, in order to accomplish the fa- vourite object wliich she had at heart. Without having given any previous notice to parhament, she unex- pectedly produced her royal consort before the House of Lords, and induced him to address them from the throne. By the blessing of God, said the king, he had been restored to health ; he beheved that the realm no longer required a protector. His improved appear- ance, as well as the dignified composure with Avhicli he addressed them, satisfied the barons of his recovery. Accordingly, an order was sent to the Duke of York U56. to resign the protectorship, and the king resumed the I'cins of empire. But though the device of the young queen had proved a master-stroke, it was evident that so long as the iiowerful headers of the Yorkisl parly were at Hberty, peril still threatened her husband and her child. The Duke of York, by his marriage with CVeily, daughter of Kalph ICarl of WestnuMvlaiul, had closely allied himself with tlie great family of the Nevilles, of whom Feb. 25. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 9 the sword. He returned from Ireland, indeed, and chap. assumed the attitude of an armed dictator, but without ■ ; — - advancing any title to the throne. His only motive, he 3*^°; said, in appeahng to arms was to procure redress for notorious pubhc wrongs, and more especially to obtain the dismissal from the Idng's councils of the queen's unpopular favourite, Edmund Duke of Somerset. At first success attended his measures. Alarmed at the approach of an army equal if not superior to its own, the court entered into a solemn engagement to take measures for the redress of grievances, and to commit Somerset to the Tower. No sooner, however, had York disbanded his forces than the promise was broken, and Somerset reinstated in all his former authority. Ac- cordingly, disgusted with the insincerity of the court, and probably apprehensive of personal danger, the duke retired for a season to his castle of Wigmore, on the borders of Wales, where his retainers were numerous, and his influence paramount. For two years from this period the public tranquillity remained undisturbed, but, at the end of that time, Henry VI. was seized by one of those attacks of mental aberration by which he was periodically afflicted. The star of York was now again in the ascendant. The queen, to her excessive mortification, found herself in- capable of contending vdth the first prince of the blood ; the Duke of Somerset was arrested in her apartments and sent to the Tower ; the Duke of York was declared i*54. by parhament to be protector of the realm during pleasure. Still the cautious prince of the blood shrank from seizing the sceptre. In the mean time the king gradually recovered from his dreadful malady ; Somer- set was released from the Tower, and resumed his 1455. seat at the king's councils ; York was deprived of his important post of governor of Calais, and once more flew indignantly to Wigmore. The contention between Somerset on the one side, and Feb. 14 KING RICIIAED THE THIRD, CHAP. Earl of Salisbury repaired to his stately palace, the ^J; . Erber, lying further eastward ; the Earl of Warwick also took up Ills quarters at his own house, Warwick Inn, Newgate. The leaders of the Lancastrian party, including tlie Dukes of Somerset and Exeter, were quartered without Temple Bar, and in other parts of the suburbs. The former party held their councils at the Black Friars, near Ludgate ; the latter in the Chapter-house at Westminster. The king and queen held their court in the palace of the Bishop of London, close to the great cathedral of St. Paul's. Never perhaps had London presented so brilliant and so exciting a scene as during the great congress of the barons. Each baron, apprehensive of treachery, had brought with him a gallant, though Umited number of retainers.* Day and night the lord-mayor. Sir Godfrey Boleyn, patroUed the streets with a guard of five thousand armed citizens. It had been decided that the solemn ceremony of re- conciUation should take place before the high altar in St. Paul's. Accordingly, on the appomted day. the feast of the Annunciation, the king, arrayed in his royal mantle and vv^ith the crown on liis head, issued from the bishop's palace, and bent his steps towards the cathedral. In the piocession which accompanied him, the rival barons Avalked two and two, each with his hand in that of an enemy. The Earl of Salisbiuy walked with the Duke of Somerset, whoso father he had discomfited and helped to slay at St. jVlbajis ; Warwick walked with the Duke of Exeter ; in tJie lumd of her deadliest foe, the Duke of York, was tliat of the beau- tiful and high-spirited queen. Fortiinatoly this memo- * " The Duke of York ctiiu' this time fo London with -100 men, unci wuH lodged at his jilnoo of l?:\ynnrd',s ; the Dukes of Exeter and SomcTMcl, encli of llieni with 100 men; the Earl of Northumberland, tlii^ Lord I<",greniont, nnd Lord (.'litlord, with 1500. Tlie Earl of Warwick oiinie from I'ldais with fiOO men to London, with red liveries, end iroidcred with ragged staves." — Leiand, Collect, vol. ii. [I. 1 '.)(;. KING RICHAED THE THIRD. 11 vested by parliament with the protectorship. Again chap. the kingly power seenaed to be within his grasp. ■ . ," There was at this period an exalted personage in the State, whose high spirit, united to the fascinations of wit and female beauty, very nearly proved a match for the vast influence, the wary genius, and long pohtical experience of the over-cautious chief of the house of Plantagenet. That person was the famous Margaret of Anjou, now in her twenty-seventh year, and in the zenith of her lovehness. Hitherto the only talent which she had displayed was for intrigue. Indeed, so far from her having afforded any evidence of that indomitable fearlessness for which her name has since been rendered famous in history, it was notorious that, at the time of Cade's insurrection, the beautiful girl had not only flown terrified from the scene of danger, but had tar- nished the honour of the house of Plantagenet, by inducing her uxorious consort to become the com- panion of her flight. But, since then, an event had occurred which necessarily influences the character of aU women, but which completely revolutionized that of Margaret of Anjou. Eighteen months before the battle of St. Albans, at the time when the king was prostrated by his distressing mental malady, the queen had given birth to a son, her first-born child and her 1453. last. From this period, all her hopes, all her interest in hfe, seem to have been centred in her beloved offspring. It was evident to her that, so long as the influence of the house of York prevailed, she had reason to tremble for the birthright of her child, if not for his very existence. To recover her husband, there- fore, from his mental disorder, — to arouse him to a sense of the utter ruin which impended over himself and his hne, — became the aU-absorbing object of her hfe. No sooner, then, did he partially rally from his dis- temper, than every expedient calculated to amuse or to beguile him was called into play. The pious king, it Oct. 13. 16 KIXU RICIIAED THE THIRD. CHAP, important battle of Northampton. On this occasion . ]■ . the royal army was conimandcd by the Dukes of Somerset and Buckingham ; Warwick, the great Earl, led the Yorkists. His orders were to respect the person of the king and to spare the common soldiers, but to give no quarter to baron or kniglit. During the battle, which Avas long and fiercely fought, the intrepid Margaret of Anjou stood with her beloved child, the heir of England, upon a commanding spot, from whence she could point out to him the pomp and circumstance of war, and, as she fondly hoped, the utter discomfiture of his foes. It was the first battle witnessed by the ill-fated Edward of Lancaster, tlie fir.st fought by Edward of York, afterwards King Edward IV. Al- though the latter was only m his runeteenth year, such confidence had Warwick in the son of his old com- panion in arms, that he gave him the command of the centre of his army ; he himself engaging at the head of the right wing, and Edward Brooke, Lord Cobham, commanding the left. And nobly did the yomig Earl of March fidfil the expectations which Warwick had conceived of his valour. A splendid charge wliich he made scattered havoc and dismay among the Lan- castrians. Treachery completed their discomfitui'e. Edmund Lord Grey de Euthyn, who held an important command in the royal army, deserted in the heat of the battle to the Yorkists. Dearly wore the earldom of Kent and the soignory of Ampthill purchased bv the stain wliicli is attaclied to his memory. The Yorkists were completely successful. The Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Shrewsbvny, and many other gallant nobles and knights, wvw slain either in action or in Hight With difiiculty (iucon IMargaret contrived to escape with her idolized son into tlie fastnesses of Wales, from wlicnce she suhsrqueutly lleil into t^cotland. Once mon^ I'^ii'g lleiuy found himself a ])risoner in the hands of tlu^ nu'inies of his house. KING EICHAED THE THIRD. 13 no fewer than six of that name -were at this period chap. barons of England. Of these, the two most powerful, and .. '';• . the most devotedly attached to the house of York, were Eichard Earl of Sahsbury, and his eldest son, Eichard Earl of Warwick, afterwards designated the Kingmaker. Sahsbury, on account of his having fought and vanquished at St. Albans, where the queen's favourite Somerset fell, appears to have been regarded by her with especial aversion. To secure the persons of these three powerful barons was now the paramount object of Margaret. In order to effect her purpose, she announced that the king's health required the diversions of hunting and hawking, and on this pretext withdrew with him to Coventry. From thence she caused letters, under the privy seal, to be addressed to the duke and the two earls, intimating that the king urgently required their advice in certain important matters, and inviting them to his court. The invitation was accepted by all three of them. On the road to Coventry, however, they were met by a secret emissary, who informed them of the trap which had been set to ensnare them. The Duke qf York flew to his stronghold on the borders of Wales ; the Earl of Sahsbury to his princely castle at Middleham, in Yorkshire ; and the Earl of Warwick to his government at Calais, where he was the idol of the formidable garrison. Still both parties shrank from reviving the horrors of civil war, and subsequently, through the good offices of Bourchier, Archbishop of Canterbury, a temporary reconcihation was effected between them. It had been agreed upon, as a prehminary step, that the leaders of the rival factions should repair to London ; the partisans of the house of York to take up their quarters within, and those of the house of Lancaster without, the walls of the city. Accordingly the 1*58. Duke of York took up his residence at his mansion of Baynard's Castle on the banks of the Thames ; the Jan. 18 KING RICHAED THE THIRD. CHAP, part in them, and they consented. An extraordinary _ \' _. compromise was tlie result. Tlie title of the Duke of York to the throne avus declared to be certain and indisputable ; but inasmuch as King Henry had swayed the sceptre for thirty-eight years, it was decided that the empty title and mock dignity of king should be guaranteed to him for the remainder of his days. The Duke of York thereupi >n was declared to be the true and rightful heir to the throne of his ancestors, the peers solemnly swearing to maintain his succession. Sick of the cares of royalty, and fatigued by the weight of a crown, the probabihty is, that, had Henry been childless, he would have succumbed to the decision of parhament, not only without a struggle, but without a sigh. But when he also signed away the birthright of his child in favour of his hereditary foe, it could scai-cely have been without a pang. On Margaret, the tidings of her consort's pusillanimity, and of the pro- scription of her child, produced an effect which seems to have been almost infuriating. The enei-gy and resources of this remarkable princess appear by this time to have been fully appreciated by friend and foe, and accordingly, the Duke of York scut her a peremp- tory order, in the name of the king, to i-etui'u im- mediately with her son to London, threatening her with the penalties of treason in the e\-ent of her refusal. This mandate she not oidy treated AvitJi becoming scorn, but, having obtained a loan of money fix)m the Scottish court, she boldly crossed the boitlei-s, and entered England at the head of a smtiJl baud of oallant followers. Her success in the northern counties was ra])id and triumphant. Her youth and beauty, as well as her heroism, lier iiisinualiiig address, and the compassion wliicli is cvi^r felt lor fallen irrentness. excited an admi- ration and sympathy lor which it Avould be difficult to find a parallel. It was allerwards said of her by Nov. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 15 rable " love-day," as the chronicler Fabyan styles it, chap. passed off without disturbance. York and Salisbury . •*;• returned to their several castles, and Warwick' to Calais. But the demon of hatred and revenge rankled far too deeply in the breasts of both parties to admit of the truce becoming a lasting one. It required, indeed, no great discernment to foretell that the slightest pro- vocation on either side would infallibly be followed by an appeal to arms ; that a single spark might kindle a conflagration which blood alone could extiaguish. And so, before many months had elapsed, it came to pass. A servant of the king having insulted a retainer of Warwick in the court-yard of the palace at West- minster, an encounter took place between them, in which the 'aggressor was wounded. The king's ser- i^ss. vants naturally took the part of their comrade, and ac- cordingly, pouring forth in great numbers from the palace, they not only fell with great fury on the earl's retinue, who were awaiting his return from the king's council-chamber, but even beset Warwick himself, who with difficulty fought his way to his barge at the river stairs. Warwick either beheved, or affected to beheve, that the attempt on his hfe had been a premeditated one.' York and Sahsbury were only too ready to re- sent the insult offered to their kinsman. Both parties hastened to arm their retainers, and mutually agreed on referring their cause to the arbitration of the God of battles. The first engagement which was fought after the renewal of hostilities, was at Bloreheath in Staffordshire, on the 23rd of September 1459, when the Earl of Sahsbury, at the head of the Yorkists, obtained a com- plete victory over the royal forces, under the command of James Lord Audley, who, with many gallant knights, was slain in the encounter. This engagement was followed, on the 10th of July 1460, by the stiU more 20 KINO RICIIAED THE THIRD. (MiAP. slic ordorcHJ to be affixed to tlie gates of York; the ^; , latter, in dciisioii of liis royal title, being circled with a paper diadem. " Leave i-ooni," said the exasperated heroine, " lor the heads of March and War^vick, for they shall soon follow." Elated with her victory, Margaret of Anjou decided on the bold ste]) of marehing to London at the head of one division of the army, while she di-patched the other division, under the command of Ja-per Tudor, Earl of Pembroke, to give battle to the young Earl of ]\Iarcli, now Duke of York, who was advaiKjiiiLf from Wales at the head of a formidable force, in the hope of speedily avenging the death of his father. The two armies, commanded by March and Pembroke, met at IMoi'timer's Cross, in Herefordshire, on the 2nd of February 14G1. The Lancastrians suffered a signal defeat. Pembroke had the good fortune to effect liis escape, but his father. Sir Owen Tudor, who had niai lied Katharine of Valois, the beautiful widow of Henry V., was taken prisoner, and with seveiul others beheaded. Queen Margaret was in the first instance more successful than her discomfited general. At St. Albans she encoiuitered the army of the Yorkists, com- 1461. manded by the Earl of Warwick, Avhom she completely I'lb. 17. tlefeated. Thus the unhappy king, whom Warwick had forced to attend him to the field of battle, was now once more restored to his fi'iends. The victory was no sooner completed than Margaret, leading the young Prince of Wales by the hand, was oondueted by Lord Clifford to his tent, in which the agitated monarch was wait- ing to embrace his heroic consort, and the fail- boy whom he had been prevailed upon to deprive of his l)irtlnig]it. The " nu'ck usurper " kissed aud embraced them both with gri'at gratitude and jov. He then (■(inlerred on his eliiiil the honour of knighthood, after which tlie royal party re])aired to tlie abbey church of St. Allians, in wliieh they solemnlv returned thanks KING EICHARD THE THIBD. 17 At length the time had arrived when, in the opinion chap. f the Duke of York and his friends, he might with . ^; . ifety prefer his claims to the crown. Accordingly, n the 16th of October 1460, three days after the larhament had assembled, the duke alighted from his lorse at the entrance of the great hall at Westminster, hrough which he passed to the House of Lords. A )last of trumpets notified his approach ; a sword of tate was carried naked before him. His reception by he barons was apparently very different from what he lad anticipated. Amidst a dead silence, and with 'very eye fixed upon him, York advanced to the hrone upon which, with the exception of an interval )f the last sixty years, his forefathers had sat from the lays of the Conqueror. Standing under the canopy of tate, with his hand resting on the throne, he silently Lwaited the result of his boldness. He had expected, )erhaps, that the barons would, with one accord, have nvited him to ascend the chair of the Confessor. But lot a voice rose in advocacy of his claims ; no look of encouragement met his eye. At length Bourchier, irchbishop of Canterbury, broke the silence. Ap- proaching the duke, he coldly intimated to laim that ;he king was in the royal apartments, and inquired whether it was not his intention to visit his sove- reign. " I know no one in this realm," rephed the iuke haughtily, " whom it doth not rather beseem to 7isit me." With these words he descended the steps which led to the throne, and indignantly quitted the assembly. But, cold as was the reception which the duke's pre- tensions had met with from the barons, his position in the State was too formidable, and the vaUdity of his claims too incontestable, not to secure them a patient investigation. Accordingly several dehberations sub- sequently took place in the House of Lords ; the most eminent men in the Commons were invited to take c 22 KINO EICHAKD THE THIRD. CHAP, in Edward Earl of March, son of the late Duke of \ . York, whom tliey theicfore elected and asserted to be kinrf and governor of this realm. On the following day Edward was conducted in great state, and amidst masses of shouting citizens, from Baynard's Castle to Westminster. In the great hall of Eufas, seated on the throne of the Plantagenets, and holding the sceptre of Edward the Confessor in his hand, his claims to the crown were recited by the Archbishop of Canterbury, who inquired of the assembled multitude whether Edward of York should be their king. The vast hall rang with an universal acclamation of assent, whereupon, according to ancient usage, the new king was conducted to the shrine of the Confessor in Westminster Abbey, where he offered up his devotions. This ceremony being over, the barons and prelates knelt one by one to him, and did homage to liim as their sovereign. On the 4th of March 1461, he commenced his reign as King Edward IV. In the mean time Queen Margaret had succeeded in levying an army of 60,000 men. The force at Edward's command is said to have consisted of 48,000 men, at the head of which he marched nortliAV;u-ds to give her battle. Fortune, at the outset, seemed in- chned to favour the Lancastrians. A success which was obtained at Ferrybridge by Lord Cliffoi-d, over an ad- vanced body of the Yorkists mider Lord Fitzwaltor, raised immoderate hopes in tlic hearts of ^Margaret and her fiiends. They were destined, however, to meet 1461. with signal disappointment. On Palm Sunday the Mar. 29. j^^q aruiics camc in sight of each otlicr in tlie' open country between t?axton and Towton. As AN'anNack surveyed the superior force with which he was about to conlt'iid, tlie stout heart of the great earl seems iiliMosI, lo liuve I'iiilcd him. The weakness, however, was but a momi'Ml.nv one. Onleiiiig his eliarger to be KhI t,u him, lie stabbed it in the lace of the whole annv, KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 19 Edward IV. that he stood in more apprehension of chap. Margaret of Anjou when she was a fugitive and an . ^- outcast, than he did of all the princes of the house of Lancaster in the plenitude of their power. The war- like chivalry of the north ralhed round the banner of the Eed Eose almost to a man. In an incredibly short 3pace of time the queen found herself at the head of an army amounting to 20,000 men. The next event of importance which followed was the battle of Wakefield, which was fought on the 30th of December 1460. So energetic and expeditious had been the proceedings of Margaret, so unlooked for the success she had met with in arming the people Df the north, that when the Duke of York marched forth to give her battle, he could muster only 6000 nen. lEs friends exhorted him to shut himself up n his castle of Sandal, where he might have awaited n security the arrival of his gallant son the Earl of y[arch, who was actively engaged in collecting rein- forcements. The duke, however, obstinately refused ;o hsten to the entreaties of his followers. What- ever hesitation he might have betrayed in the cabinet, )n the field of battle he was ever undaunted. He icorned, he said, to retreat before a woman; he was ■esolved to triumph or to die. Considering the odds igainst which he had to contend, the result may be •eadily imagined. The Lancastrians obtained a signal dctory; York himself was killed in the battle. His lead was carried to the queen, who is said to have )urst into an hysterical laugh on beholding the bloody rophy. Pity had ceased to find any place in her breast. Che executions which she ordered after her victory vere cruel and excessive. Among other gallant men vhom she handed over to the executioner was War- wick's father, the stout old Earl of Sahsbury, whose lead, with that of his brother-in-law the Duke of York, c 2 24 ICING EICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, men from Louis XL of France, she summoned her — ^ — Lancastriiui i)iirtis!ius to repair to lier standard, and once more took tlic field. Fortune, on this occasion, scarcely even smiled on her. She was speedily encoun- H64. tered by the Marquis (jf Montagu, brother of the Earl of ^"^ *■ Warwick, who signally defeated her at Hexham. Her partisans, the Duke of Somerset, and the Lords Hun- gerford and Eoss, were taken prisoners and immediately beheaded. The romantic adventures which befell Margaret of Anjou after the battle of Hexliam are well known. Flyhig with her beloved chdd from the scene of slaugh- ter and defeat, her only hope of escaping from their foes lay in the darkness of the night, and in being able to penetrate the gloomy mazes of Hexliam Forest. But scarcely had the forest been gained, when the royal fugitives were beset by a band of robbers, who, besides strippuig them of their jewels and costly upper gar- ments, treated them with much indignity. Fortunately the richness of the booty, and the difficulty which the brigands found in partitioning it to the satisfaction of all, induced a quarrel, and then a conflict, among the band. The queen took advantage of the confusion, and fled with her child to a denser part of the forest. Without food, and without suflicient raiment to protect them from the chills of the night, they were wandering they liiiew not where, when suddenly, by the hght of the moon, they beheld a man of giant stature, mid of for- bidding aspect, approaching them -witli a drawn sword. Fortunately the courage of the intrepid ]\largaret rose Avilh the occasion; her resolution was formed on the instiint. Adx'ancing towards the robber, for such he proved to be, slie jireseiited to him the young prince, cxclaimiug, — " ]\ly iVienil, to your care I commit tlie s:i(('ly of the son of your king." It happeiKxl provi- denlially Ihat tlu: man was by nature of a generous and luniiaiK' disposilioii, Lnpulsively he knelt to her, and KING RICHAED THE THIED. 21 to Heaven for the victory wliich had been vouchsafed chap. to them. ^- To enter London, and to restore her consort to his palace and his throne, were the paramount objects of Margaret. The citizens, however, refused to admit her within their gates ; the lord-mayor sending her word that he only was her friend. In the mean time, the Duke of York had succeeded in uniting his army with the scattered troops of Warwick, and was rapidly ad- vancing from Herefordshire with a far superior force. Under these circumstances the queen had no choice but to retrace her steps to the north, whither she accordingly retreated with her husband and chUd. There, as we have seen, her adherents were both nu- merous and devotedly attached to her cause, and there she hoped again to make head against her adversaries. In due time the new Duke of York made his appear- i46i. ance before the gates of London, which he entered ^^^- ^^• amidst the joyful acclamations of the people. His youth, the fiery valour which he had displayed in battle, his recent victories at ISTorthampton and Mortimer's Cross, the irresistible fascination of his address, and lastly his stately height and the singular beauty of his counte- nance, excited a feehng of enthusiasm in his favour which it would be difficult to exaggerate. With one accord, the crowds which visited his camp in St. John's Fields, ClerkenweU, acknowledged and greeted him as their king. In the mean time a meeting, consisting of the lords spiritual and temporal and of the chief ma- gistrates of London, had been convened in Baynard's Castle, for the purpose of solemnly discussing his claims. The determination at which they arrived was an unani- mous one. They declared that King Henry, by break- ing his recent compact with parhament, had forfeited all royal authority and power ; further pronouncing that the title to the crown of England lay incontestably c 3 26 KINO KICIIARD THE TIIIHD. CHAP, made liis entry into London, it was with his legs ]■ _. strapped under the belly of his horse, and with an ofleiisive inscription placarded on his back, in which degraded condition, we are told, he was conducted through the populous district of Cheap and Comhill to liis former apartments in the Tower. The ac- count, however, of a more faithful contemporary, the chronicler of Croyland, in no degree substantiates the assertion that Henry was subjected to this ignominious treatment. On the contrary, Edward, we are told, gave orders that " all possible humanity," not incon- sistent with safe custody, should be shown to the illustrious and afflicted prisoner. The motives which, in 1469, induced the Earl of Warwick to rebel against his sovereign and fiiend, and the Dulte of Clarence against his brother, will probably never be satisfactorily explained. Then- treason, for a time, was eminently successful ; Edward 1470. was eventually compelled to fly from his kingdom. Oct. 3. fpjij^ flight of his rival once more opened for the unfortunate Henry the door of his prison-house. He was waited vipon in his solitary chamber in the Tower by the Duke of Clarence, the Earl of Wai-wick, Lord Stanley, and other noblemen, who, with great ceremony and respect, conducted him to the royal apartments in the palatial fortress. Once more, and for the last time, he wore the trappings of mouarchv, and listened to adulations and professions of loyalty of which he had long suice learned tlie hoUowness. Arrayed in a mantle of blue velvet, and wearing the kingly crown upon his head, he piooeedcd in solemn state to St. Paul's Catliodml. where, amidst the empty shouts of (lie iickle populace, he returned thanks to Heaven for a deli\eranee whicJi was destined to be followed l)y worse sorrows, and for tlie recovery of a, crown wliicli doubtless he secretly regiirded as a burden. KING- RICHAED THE THIRD. 23 at the same time solemnly swearing, on the cross chap. which formed the hilt of his sword, that on that day . ^; . his hazards and those of the common soldier should be the same, and that, though the whole of the king's army should take to flight, he would oppose himself alone to the swords of the Lancastrians. Of aU the battles between the rival Eoses, none was more fiercely contested, none lasted for a greater num- ber of hours, than that of Towton. At length the fiery valour of Edward, and the military experience of War- wick, prevailed over superior numbers, and the Lan- castrians were totally routed. No quarter was given ; the carnage was terrific. The buriers of the dead counted 38,000 corpses. Among the slain were dis- covered the bodies of the Earls of Westmoreland and Northumberland, of the Lords Welles and Dacre of Gillesland. The Earl of Devon was beheaded after the battle. Immediately after his victory the young king proceeded to York, where he removed the heads of his father and of his kinsman the Earl of Sa- hsbury from the gates of the city, setting up in their stead the heads of the Earl of Devon, and of others whom he had caused to be decapitated after the battle. Li one respect the hopes of the young king were sadly disappointed. He had trusted, by obtaining possession of the persons of King Henry, and especially of Queen Margaret and hef child, to crush for ever the hopes of the house of Lancaster. The energetic queen, however, contrived to escape with her husband and son to Berwick, from which place they subsequently fled to Scotland. For three years after the battle of Towton, Edward was permitted to continue in quiet possession of his throne, and in the entire enjoyment of his voluptuous pleasures. The spirit of the indefatigable Margaret, however, remained unsubdued by defeat or disaster, and accordingly, having obtained the aid of two thousand c 4 28 KING RICIlAliD THE THIRD. CHAP. II. BIRTH, PARENTAGE, AND EAItLY LIFE OF RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER. cii.u'. EiCHARD Duke of Gloucester, aftemrarcb King Eicli- — ^ — • ard in., was born in the princely castle of Fijtheringay in Northamptonshire on the 2nd of October 14.52.* He was the eleventh chUd of Eichard Plantagenet, Duke of York, and was sixth in descent from King Edward m. His mother was Cecily, daughter of Ealph Neville, Earl of Westmoreland, by Joan Beaufort, daughter of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. The Duchess of York — or the " Eose of Eaby," as she was designated in the north of England — wa~. by the deatli of Ikt husband, left a Avidow Avith a numerous offspring. Only a year or two previously, — happy in the society of her illustrious lord, and watching the sports of her yomig children in the noble haUs of JMiddleham or Baynard's Castle, — how httle could she ha\e anticipated the bloody wars which Avere about to devastate her native country, and the misfortunes which impended over Ik'i- house ! Seldom have greater sorrows follen to the lot of woman, and never perliaps were sor- rows borne with greater magnanimity. Her beloved husband perished at (he battle of ^Vake^ield.f For months his si'vtTed liead remnincil a ghastly object on the gates of York. In the same battle was slain her tliird son, tlic young iMlmmvd V.av\ of Kntland. Her loiirth siu'vivinu son, Georm' Duke of Clarence, died a * Wiiruim i}C AVyrot'sli'i-'s Annals, Librr Nijj,\'r Scacairii, \o\, ii. ,,, 177. t ;i()lli Div.'iuluT 1 ICO. KING EICHARD THE THIRD. 25 even shed tears. Margaret, in fact, could scarcely have chap. met with a more valuable protector. Carrying the . ^; wayworn Prince of Wales in his arms, he led the way to his place of concealment, a retreat still pointed out as " Queen Margaret's cave." Subsequently the generous robber performed farther good service, by conducting to the queen more than one unfortunate Lancastrian gentleman who had contrived to escape the slaughter of Hexham. Among these were Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter, and Edmund Beaufort, now Duke of Somerset. By the assistance of the freebooter, not only the queen and the prince, but the other hunted fugitives, were en- abled to reach the sea-coast, from whence they obtained shipping to Elanders. De Commines tells us that some time afterwards he saw the Duke of Exeter running bare- footed after the Duke of Biu-gundy's train, begging in the name of God for bread to satisfy his hunger. The fate of the last of the Beauforts was yet more mise- rable. After the battle of Tewkesbury, where he com- manded the Lancastrian army, he was dragged from a church where he had sought refuge, and immediately beheaded. In the mean time the escape of the unhappy Henry VI. had been even a more narrow one than those of his wife and child. In the flight after the battle, " King Henry," according to the chronicler Hall, "was the last horseman of his company." So hot was the pur- suit that an attendant who rode behind him, bear- ing the royal cap of state, • was overtaken and made prisoner. For about a year, the hunted king re- mained concealed in different hiding-places in West- moreland and Lancashire. At length, his retreat having been betrayed by a monk of Abingdon, he was arrested as he sat at dinner at Waddington Hall, ues. in the latter county, and again committed a prisoner to the Tower. According to the prejudiced accounts of the Lancastrian historians, when the pious monarch June. 30 KINO EICHAED THK THIKD. CHAP. Tlie priiicoly fortune enjoyed by the widowed duchess "• _■ wiis in iiccordance with licr exalted rank. At the se- verul patrimonial residences of the house of York, — at Middle] lani, Fotheringay, Sandal, and Berkhampstead, at each of which she (jccasi(jually resided with her youth- ful family, — the magnificence of her mode of hving was surpassed only by the decorum which ever pre- vailed in her household. " She useth," writes a con- temporary, " to arise at seven of the clock, and hath ready her chaplain to say with her matins of the day and matins of our Lady ; and when she is full ready she hath a low mass in her chamber ; ^nd after mass she taketh somethmg to recreate nature, and so goeth to the chapel, hearing the divine service and two low masses. From tlience to dinner, during the time whereof she hath a lecture of holy matter. After dimier she giveth audience to all such as have any matter to show unto her by the space of one hour, and then slceiK'th one quarter of an hour, and after she hath slept she continueth in prayer unto the fii'^t peal of eveu-song ; then she drinketh wine or ale at her pleasure. Forthwith her chaplain is ready to say with her both even-songs ; and after the last peal she goeth to the chapel, and heareth even-song by note. From thence to supper, and in the time of supj^er she reciteth the lecture that was had at dinner to those that be iu her presence. After supper she disposeth liei-self to be famiUar with her gentlewomen, to the season of honest mirth ; and one hour before her going to bed she taketh a cup of wine ; and, after that, goeth to her privy closet and taketh lier lea\o of God for ixH night ; making end of her prayers for that day, and by eight of tlie clock is in bed."* Such is the curious picture which we possess of the manner in wliieh an illustrious lady passed her hours in the lifteenth century. Such was the houscliold which sheltcrctl the bovhood of the Onlii iicH lor ilRtuivirnuunl (.)!' tlieKoyol Household, p. 37*. KING KICHAED THE THIRD. 27 Leaving King Edward for a time in poverty and chap. exile, and King Henry ia the possession of his brief ]• authority, let us now revert to the extraordinary prince whose story forms the principal subject of these memoirs. 3-2 KINO EICIIAHD THE TRIED. CHAP, tlieir seeking slieltcr under his roof is tlius communi- . l^^ , c'iited to Sii' John in October 1400, by his confidential 1400. jservHut Christopher Hausson. •' To the Right Worshipful Sir and Master John Paston, Esquire, at Noi^wich, he this letter ddi/uerred in haste. " Eight worshipful Sir and Master, I recommend me unto you. Please you, to weet, the M(jnday after our Lady-day, there come hither to my master's place my Master Bowser, Sir Harry Eatford, John Clay, and the harbinger of my Lord of March, desiring that my Lady of York might be here imtil the coming of my Lord of York, and her two sons, my Lord George and my LKsrd Eichard, and my Lady Margaret, her daughter, which I granted them in your name, to lie here till Llichaelmas. And slie had not lain here two days, but she had tidings of the landing of my lord at Chester. The Tuesday after, my lord sent for her that she should come to him to Hereford ; and thither she is gone ; and she hath left here both the sons and the daughter, and the Lord of March cometh every day to see them." * A few days afterwards, the Dul^e of York entered London in triumph, and restored liis wife and chil- dren to the condition which was due to theii- exalted birth. But though the house of York was destined fintiUy to be triiunphant, many reverses and misfortunes were still in store for its nmnerous members. The rotiu-n, in- deed, of Margaret of Anjou from Scotland, and tlie fatal Doc. 30. result of the battle of Wakefield, seemed to tlu'eaten a toliil annihilation of their hopes. Li that battle the " Eose of Eaby " lost not only her husband, but also her young and beautiful son the h'arl of Eutlaud. She now began to tremble i'or (lie salety of her younger sons, * Piiston Lilli'is, by Foun, vul. i. p. 199. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 20 traitor's death in the dungeons of the Tower. Her chap. eldest son, afterwards King Edward IV., died from . "■ the effects of intemperance and sensuahty, in the prime of his days. She hved to see the sons of this mighty monarch miserably immured in the Tower, destined to carry with them to their early graves the awftd secrets of their prison-house. Lastly, she sur- vived to see her son Eichard close his errors or his crimes by a bloody death on the field of Bosworth. It was the singular fortune of this illustrious lady to have lived in the reigns of five sovereigns, to have been the contemporary (3f six queens of England, and of five princes of Wales.* The character of this beautiful woman was iu many respects pecuhar to the high-born matrons of the middle ages. Inheriting the lofty spirit of the Nevilles and of the Plantagenets, she entered fuUy into the ambitious projects of the powerful lord with whom her fate was united. From the day on which he had demanded the head of the obnoxious Somerset at the gates of London till he himself perished by the sword at the battle of "Wakefield, she seems to have been his constant companion in the day of adversity, the wilhng sharer of his perils. If, on the one hand, her ambition was unbounded, and her pride of birth so overweening as almost to amount to extravagance, she nevertheless figures as an affectionate and discerning mother, and a pious Christian. If scandal whispered that in her youth she had been unfaithful to her lord, her widow- hood, at all events, was an exemplary one. For her sons she secured the best education of which the age would admit, devoting herself with unwearying care to the advancement of their spiritual as well as their temporal welfare, and preparing them to play a part in the world suitable to their royal birth and the stormy times in which they hved. * Arcliajologia, vol. xiii. p. 16. 34 KING RICnABD THE THIRD. CHAP. Edward no sooner found the sceptre secure in his — ^ — ' grasp than he recalled his younger brothers from the ^^^^" Low Countries, On George, now in his twelfth year, he conferred the title of Duke of Clarence ; Kichard, who was only in his ninth year, he created Duke of Glouces- ter.* It may be mentioned that, in the days of chivahy of which we are writing, whenever a royal or noble youth had arrived at an age when it was considered no longer desirable that he should be kept in the society and under the care of women, it was customary to obtain his admission into the establishment of some powerful baron, in order that he might duly acquire those accomphshments which were presumed to be necessary to support the knightly character. That Edward should have selected the establishment of his renowned kinsman, the Earl of Warwick, as offering the niost ehgible school for training up his younger brothers to distinguish themselves in the tUt-yard and the battle-field, is not only not unlikely, but the fol- lowing circumstances render it extremely probable. Edward himself would seem to have been indebted for his mihtary education to Warwick f ; we have evi- dence of the anxiety of the young king to render his brothers as accomplished soldiers as he was himself; there is extant, m the archives of the exchequer, a contemporary entry of moneys " paid to Eichard Earl of Warwick for costs and expenses incmTed by him on behalf of the Duke of Gloucester, the king's brother,"^ besides other evidence showing that Gloucester" was at least once a guest at Middleham § ; and, lastly, we find the future usm-per retaining an affectionate partiality for Middlcham to the close of his eventful career. II Under these ciroumstauoos, to what other • Diigdale'B B.aronngo, vol. ii. pp. 1(V>, 105. f I\I(5mciirt'M do 1*. do Coiiiminos, tome i. p. 232. Paris, 1840. X ll.ilstod'H K'i.liard 111. vol. i. p. 113. § Buck in Kiiuict, vol. i. p. 51G. II Wliitukc'i-'s History of Ivichmondshiro, vol. i. p. 335. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 31 celebrated Eichard of Gloucester ; such the mother chap. from whom he alike derived the good qualities which . ^^- were the ornament of his youth, and inherited the ambition which, at a later period, incited him to the commission of crime. Though at the time a mere child, Eichard of Glou- cester was a witness of those early struggles between the houses of York and Lancaster which hurried his father York to the grave, and eventually raised his brother Edward to the throne. At the period when the loss of the battle of Bloreheath compelled his father to fly 1459. for shelter in the fastnesses of Ireland, Eichard was in ^^p*- ^^■ his seventh year. When, shortly after the battle. King Henry entered Ludlow Castle in triumph, he found there oct. the Duchess of York, whom, with her two younger sons, he committed, in the first instance, to the charge of her sister, Anne Duchess of Buckingham.* For nearly a year Eichard remained a prisoner with his mother in the hands of the Lancastrians, till at length the victory obtained by the Yorkists at Northampton restored them July 10. to hberty. Three months after the battle we find the "Eoseof Eaby" in London with her young children George and Eichard, afterwards Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester, and her daughter Margaret, afterwards Oct. Duchess of Burgundy. But though the metropoHs was now in the hands of the Earl of Warwick and of her victorious son the Earl of March, there seem to have been reasons why London was stih no secure place of retreat for the high-bom lady and her children. Accordingly, instead of taking up her abode at the cele- brated Baynard's Castle, the London residence of her lord, we find her concealed with her children in an ob- scure retreat in the Temple. The chambers which shel- tered the illustrious party were those of Sir John Paston, a devoted partisan of the house of York, who was at this time absent at Norwich. The important event of * Leland'.s Collect, vol. ii. p. 497 ; Hearne's Fragment, pp. 283-4. SG KINO EICIURD THE THIRD. CHAP, city from which he had derived his title. In the mean — A — - time his headless remains had rested at Pontefract, where they had been hurriedly and ignobly committed to the grave. Young Edward no sooner found him- self triumphant over his adversaries, than he performed the pious duty of causing his father's head to be removed from the gates of York, preparatory to reinterring the great warrior with a magnificence suitable to his rank. Descended from, and destined to be ancestor of kings, the remains of Eichard of York might without impropriety have been awarded a grave in the memo- able burial-place of the sovereigns of the house of Plantagenet, in Westminster Abbey. To that deeply interesting group of monuments, which surround the shrine of Edward the Confessor, the efSgy of the illus- trious chieftain would have formed no unworthy addi- tion. But the young king preferred for the mightiest of the barons a baron's resting-place. In the chancel of the collegiate church of Fotheringay, near the re- mains of his father Edward Duke of York, who was slain at Agincourt, Eichard of York was reinteiTed, on the 29th of July 1466, with a magnificence befitting the obsequies of kings. Followed by an array of nobles and pursuivants, Eichard Duke of Gloucester rode next after the corpse of his father, in its melancholy journey from Pontefract to Fotheringay. Awaitiucr its arrival in the churchyard of Fotheringay, stood the king and queen in deep mourning, attended by the two eldest princesses and the principal nobles and ladies of the land. The ceremony of reinterment nmst have pre- sented a striking and deeply interesting scene. On the verge of the vault were to be seen the lofty form of King Edward, the linndsoniest jn-inoe of his age* ; his bcauliful q\iet'U, Elizabeth "\^'oodville ; their infant ilaughter, hjlizabeth, who was destined to succeed her * Mi'iiRiiix's ilr Oonnuiiios, vol, i. p. 'I'M. KING EICHARD THE THIRD. 38 wliose lives, had they clianced to have fallen into the chap. power of the implacable Margaret, would in all proba- . ^^; bihty have been sacrificed to her revenge. Happily for 1460. the house of York, their great kinsman, the Earl of "Warwick, still held the command of the seas. Accord- ingly, with the aid of the earl, the Duchess of York contrived to effect the removal of her children to the Low Countries, where they had the good fortune to meet with a kind and generous reception from PhUip Duke of Burgundy. It happened that the court of that accomphshed priace was no less distinguished for the encouragement of hterature and the fine arts, than for the due maintenance and exercise of the ancient laws and customs of chivalry. Examples, therefore, were constantly before them, which were calculated to pro- duce a beneficial and lasting effect on the minds of the . young princes. During a part of their stay in the Low Countries, we find them pursuing their studies under able instructors ia the city of Utrecht.* In the mean time, the struggle in England between the rival Eoses had been renewed with unabating vigour and fury. The young Earl of March had succeeded to his father's title of Duke of York, and with it to his father's claims to the throne. Those claims, though only in his twentieth year, he proceeded to assert and uphold with an ability, enterprise, and fearlessness, which would have reflected credit on the wisest states- men and ablest generals of the age. At Mortimer's uei. Cross he gave battle to, and defeated, the army of King Henry, and, though his troops under the Earl of Warwick were repulsed at St. Albans, he nevertheless pushed forward to London, which, as we have pre- viously recorded, he entered amidst the acclamations of the people, and a day or. two afterwards mounted the throne by the title of King Edward TV. * Buck's Life and Reign of Eichard III. in Kemiet's Complete History, vol. i. p. 516 ; Sandford, Gen. Hist, book v. p. 430. D 38 KING EICHAKD THE THIRD. CHAP. Lord Hungerford, both of which noblemen had been — i- — ■ beheaded after the battle of Hexham.* Agam, when the part which the Nevilles took at the battle of Bamet deprived them of their magnificent estates, Edward conferred on his brother, for his " great and laudable services," Warwick's princely castles of Middleham and SherifF-Hutton, together with other lands which had belonged to the earl's brother, the Marquis of Montagu.f In 1465 Edward created his brother a knight of the Garter, and, in 1469, caused him to be summoned to parhament. Not satisfied with heaping wealth and honours on his favourite brother, Edward also selected him to fill ap- poiatments, the responsible duties of which prove how entire was the confidence which he placed in his judg- ment and abihties. In 1461 he appointed him high admiral of England.^ On the 27th of October 1469, he made him constable of England, and justice of North and South Wales. § 'The following year he nominated him to be warden of the Western Marches, bordering on Scotland. || On the 18th of May 1471, he was made lord-chamberlain.^ In 1472 he was appointed to the lucrative situation of keeper of the king's forests beyond Trent ** ; and, lajstly, in 1474, he was re-appointed to the office of lord-cham- berlain.ff Such were the high offices and appointments which » Cal. Rot. Pat. m. i. p. 314. \ Rot. Pari. vol. vi. pp. 121:-5 ; Cal. Rot. Pat. p. 816, m. xriii. \ Dugd. Bar. vol. ii. p. 165. § Sandford, Gen. Hist, book v. p. 430 ; Dugd. Bar. vol. ii. p. 1G5. II Ibid. f This appointment ho siiiTondcrod to his brother, the Duke of CIliiTonrc, on his being a s("gd. Bar. vol. ii. p. IGC. KING EICHABD THE THIRD. 35 conclusion can we arrive than that Mddleliani was chap. once the home of Gloucester ? And, if such was the -_"• case, with what other object could he have been so domesticated but for the advantages to be derived from the precepts of the renowned Warwick, and being educated in the vast mihtary estabhshment which was supported by the most powerful of the barons? The mention of Middleham recalls to us the romantic attachment which Eichard subsequently conceived for Anne Neville, the youngest and fairest daughter of the " Kingmaker," an attachment which would of itself have been a subject of no mean interest, even had Shak- speare not invested it with immortahty. Anne was his junior only by two years. May it not, then, have been at Middleham, in the days of their childhood, that Eichard was first inspired by that memorable passion which was destined to triumph over all human oppo- sition, — which continued to nerve his arm, and to fire his soul, even when Anne Neville had become the betrothed, if not the bride, of another, and which was eventually rewarded by her becoming his wife, and finally his queen ? Of the boyhood of Eichard of Gloucester, unfortu- nately but few particTolars have been handed down to us. The dihgent inquirer, Hutton, could discover no more important facts than that the wisest, wihest, and bravest prince of his age, " cuckt his ball, and shot his taw, with the same dehght as other lads." * Only on one occasion, in his boyhood, we find him playing a prominent part on the stage of the world. From the day on which the Eed Eose had proved tri- umphant at Wakefield, till that on which victory again decided in favour of the White Eose on the field of Towton, the ghastly head of Eichard Duke of York had been allowed to disfigure the battlements of the * Hutton's Battle of Bosworth Field, Introd. p. xvii. d2 40 KING EICHARD THE THIED. CHAP, had elapsed since the Lady Isabel had given her hand, — i^l— in the churcli of Notre-Dame at Calais, to George 1470. Dulce of Clarence, at that time the nearest male heir to the throne of England.* The Lady Anne, at this time, was on the eve of being betrothed to Edward Prince of Wales, the ill-fated son of Henry VI. When, in the month of April 1470, Wanvick and Clarence, flying from the rapid and victorious pursuit of Edward, set sad from Dartmouth, the Lady Isabel accompanied her husband and her father. The voyage proved to be a singularly hazardous and inauspicious one. After a narrow escape from having been captured by the royal fleet, commanded by Earl Rivers, the ship in which they were embarked was overtaken by a violent tempest, in the midst of the perils and dis- comforts of which the young duchess was seized in labour of her first child. Mishap followed mishap. On reaching Calais, John Lord Wenlock, the deputy- governor of the town in the absence of Warmck, not only positively refused them permission to land, but fired his " great guns " at them. The only favour which they could obtain from him was a present of two flagons of wine for the use of the duchess and her ladies.f Accordingly Warwick set sad. for Dieppe, in which port the duchess and her new-born infant were safely landed.:}: From Dieppe the earl, accompanied by his * The marriage ceremony was performed, on tlie 12th of July 1469, by her uncle, George Neville, .Vrclibishop of York, in the presence of her father the Earl of ^^'ar^vi^'k, then governor of Calais, her mother, and her sister the Lady Auue. f De Commincs, tome i. p. 235. I Accordin|T lo IMoiislroK^t, it was ,it Ilontlour and not Ilarfleur that the fugitives disombarkod. " They fovuid there the lord high acliniral of France, who vecrivod the Karl of Warwick, the Duke of Clarciicc, and the Karl of Oxford, and tlieir Indies, with every r<'H|Mcl. Tlii'ir vcNMi'ls wiTc admitted in the hivrbours ; and after a Khorl, linu', llie ladies, willi their trains, departed, and went to Va- lci(j;m'S, wlirrc lodgings had bei'n provided tor them." — .Uaiistrelefs C'lirniiirlrs, vol. iv. p. .">01. The llcarne Fragment also mentions KING KICHAKD THE THIBD, 37 father on the throne ; the slight figure and thoughtful chap. features of Eichard of Gloucester; and, lastly, the mild - ^_ and melancholy face of Margaret Countess of Eichmond, who, like the illustrious dead upon whose coffin she was gazing, was also destined to be the ancestor of kings.* Of that memorable party, Margaret alone outhved the prime and vigour of life, and enjoyed a tranquil and respected old age. Eichard, even in early boyhood, appears to have enjoyed the confidence and afiection of his brother Edward. The wealth and estates which the king from time to time put him in possession of, seem almost incredible. In 1462 he conferred on him a large portion of the domains of John Lord Chfibrd, who was killed at the battle of Towton.f The same year he gave him the castle and fee-farm of the town of Gloucester, and the castle and lordship of Eichmond in Yorkshire, lately belonging to Edmund Earl of Eich- mond ; also no fewer than forty-six manors which had lapsed to the crown by the attainder of John de Vere, Earl of Oxford. J In 1464 he granted him the castles, lordships, and lands of Henry de Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, as well as the castle and manors of Eobert * Sandford's Genealogical Hist, of England, book v. pp. 391-2. At the same time with those of York were reinterred the remains of his third son, Edmtmd Earl of Rutland, who was killed by- Lord Clifford at the battle of Wakefield, and whose head had also disfigured the battlements of York. Thirty-one years after- wards, the remains of the " Eose of Eaby " were laid, according to a desire which she had expressed in her wiU, by the side of her husband. When, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, her cofiin hap- pened to be opened, there was discovered, we are told, " about her neck, hanging on a silk riband, a pardon from Eome, which, penned in a fine Eoman hand, was as fair and fresh to be read as if it had been written but the day before." The duchess died in Berkhamp- stead Castle on the 31st of May 1495. Sandford, Gen. Hist, book iv. p. 387; bookv. pp. 391-2. ■(■ Cal. Eot. Pat. p. 304,' m. xiii. . X Eotuli Parliamentorum, vol. vi. p. 228. ; Cal. Eot. Pat. p. 304, m. V. " " - d3 42 KING RICIIAKD THE THIED. CHAP. Louis received the great earl with open arms, and ^]- _. bade him heartily welcome to his coiirt. 1470. From Amboise the French court removed to Angers, whither Warwick and his daughters also repaired. The dethronement of the Enghsh monarch, a recon- ciUation between Margaret of Anjou and Warwick, and the re-establishment of the house of Lancaster on the throne of England, were the projects which the French king and the English earl were constantly engaged in discussing, and wliich each of them had deeply at heart. The principal difficulty lay in the implacable disposition of Margaret, and in the great improbability, which they foresaw, of her being in- duced to consent to so imnatural a marriage as that of the heir of Lancaster with the daughter of the arch-enemy of liis house. Many grievances, moreover, had to be forgotten on both sides, many wrongs for- given. Warwick had to forgive the remorseless woman who had sent his father Salisbury to the block ; while Margaret was called upon to forgive stdl deeper wrongs. Warwick had not only given her the deepest offence by aspersing her fair fame as a woman, but he had also disputed the legitimacy of her darling son. He had caused to be put to death, either on the field of battle or on the scaffold, the bravest and wisest of the partisans of the Ked Eose. Twice he had thrown her royal consort into a dungeon. More than once slie herself had been driven by him into exile ; more than once, a fugitive with her beloved child, they had been compelled to owe their daily bread to the charity of the stranger. Warwick, she said, had inflicted wounds on her which would remain unhealed till the day of judgment, and in the day of judgment she would appeal to tlie justice of Hcnvon for vengoanoo ngainst her pei-socutor.* Difficult, howcviT, as was tlic task of appeasing the • CliaHtrllnin, Chroniqiics iles Duos do Bourgogne, par Buehon, tiimo ii. p. 2 12. KING EICHARD THE THIRD. 39 King Edward conferred upon his brother Eichard, chap. almost before the latter had completed his twentieth >_ ^^ _ year. It must be remembered, that not only did more than one of these appointments require that the person holding them should be gifted with singular abihty, firmness, and judgment, but that they also conferred on him an authority which rendered him the most powerful subject in the realm. That a monarch, there- fore, so notoriously jealous as Edward IV., who, moreover, had already been deceived by a favourite brother, the fickle and ungrateful Clarence, should have conferred on a third brother wealth so vast and powers so great, evinces not only how high was the opinion he had formed of Eichard's talents, but also how great was the confidence which he placed in his loyalty and integrity. Indeed, that Eichard of Gloucester was to the last the faithful and loyal subject of Edward IV., we are as much convinced as that he was afterwards a disloyal subject to his nephew Edward V. A conjecture has already been hazarded in these pages, that it was as long since as when Eichard was learning the use of arms and the accomphshments of chivalry in the haUs of the renowned Warwick, that he first became enamoured of the youngest and gentlest of the two daughters of the Kingmaker, It was destined, indeed, that they should hereafter be united by indissoluble ties. As yet, however, many and ap- parently insurmountable obstacles interposed between Eichard and the reahzation of the hopes of his boy- hood. A singular and romantic interest attaches itself to the story of Isabel and Anne Neville. Born to a more splendid lot, and to greater vicissitudes of fortune, than commonly fall to the lot of women, the career of both was destined to be a brief and a melancholy one. At the period of which we are writing, nine months d4 44 KINO RICHARD THE THIRD. sworn to by each oC the contracting parties on the true cross in St. Mary's Church at Angers. On their ^'^^'^* part, Warwick and Clarence engaged themselves on no account " to surcease the war " till they should have restored the kingdom of England to the house of Lan- caster. On the other hand, Queen Margaret and the Prince of Wales solemnly swore to appoint the great earl and his son-in-law protectors of the realm, till such time as the youthful prince should be " meet and fit by himself to undertake that charge."* Lastly, the French king guaranteed to furnish Warwick with a supply of " armour, men, and navy," to enable him to effect a successful landing on the shores of England. f The article in the treaty which Margaret naturally regarded with the greatest dissatisfaction was that which gave the hand of Anne Neville to her son. " What ! " said the haughty queen, " wUl Warwick indeed give his daughter to my son, whom he has so often branded as the offspring of adultery and fi-aud ■■ " When at length she gave her consent to the unnatural union, it was accompanied by a veiy important article which has been overlooked by most of our historians. By a clause in the marriage treaty it was provided that not only should Anne Neville remain '• in the hands and keeping" of the queeii, but that the marriage should not be jierfected till the earl had recovered the kingdom of England, or the groat*.!- portion of it, for the house of Lancaster.^ Aooonhngly, inasmuch as * Polydore Virgil, lib. xxiv. p. ('iSO, and C:iind. Soo. Trnns. p. 131. •f Louis kopt his woi-d. MonslroKl tells us tluit tlio manning and viclualling of AVaiwiik's flcil was oxtriiiuly expensive to him. Clu-oiiiiOcs, vol. iv. pp. 300-7. Km- an aooount cf this veuiarkable coiiririMU'c, Hi'o a vi'iy curions iloounu'nl cnlitled " The Manner and (iiiiding of tlio Earl of Warwiok at Aniurs," Ilai-l. MS. 548, ful. ICi'.li, priiilcd ill ICllisa Original l.ellei's, V(il. i. p. 132, &0., Si'conil Sciii's. SiH' also Hi' ("oniiniiu's, toiiu' i. p. -3J^. I " Manner and (iuiding of flie Karl of ^Vn^wick," Ellia's Orig. Kellers, vol. i. pp. 13i-f), .Second Series, KING RICHABD THE THIED. 4L daughter and son-in-law, proceeded to Amboise, in chap. wliicli town the cruel and crafty Louis XI. of France ._ '*' ,• ''• ^ was at this time holding his court.* l^'^^: Warwick, incensed against the prince whom he had formerly so loved, and whom he had laid under so many obligations, — ambitious, moreover, of securing a second chance of founding a kingly dynasty for his descendants, — had for his chief object at this period the union of his younger daughter Anne with Edward Priace of Wales, the only child of Henry VI. and Margaret of Anjou. By this expedient, should King Edward, on the one hand, die without leaving a male heir, the children of Isabel would fill the throne ; while, on the other hand, should the house of Lan- caster succeed ia triumphing over the house of York, the hopes of the Kingmaker would have every pro- spect of being reahzed by the Lady Anne becoming the mother of kings. It was apparently in pursuance of this ambitious project that Warwick sought the presence of the French king. Louis received him with every mark of respect and friendship. From the time when the earl had formerly been ambassador at his court, the French king had not only retained an extraordinary affection for him, but they had ever since carried on a secret correspondence.'!' Louis, on one occasion, told Queen Margaret of Anjou that he was under greater obliga- tions to the Enghsh earl than to any man living. J Thus, "no less enamoured and dehghted with the presence of his friend than vdth his renowned fame," § Honfleur as the port at -wMcli Warwick and his family landed (pp. 302-3). * Hearne Fragment, p. 303. f De Commines, tome i. p. 433. Warwick had been ambassador to France in 1467. if Sharon Turner's Hist, of the Middle Ages, vol. iii. pp. 261-3. § Polydore Virgil, lib. xxiv. p. 660 (ed. 1651), and Camden Soc. Transl. p. 131. 46 KING BICIUED THE THIRD. cnAP. duced to each other at Paris, where, if any trust is to — ^ — ' be placed in contemporary gossip, her charms had 1470. kindled a violent passion in the heart of Edward.* A sad reverse awaited each of them. Before many months had elapsed, Edward lay a mangled corpse in the abbey of Tewkesbury ; while the beautiful girl to whom his troth was pledged was compelled to secrete herself, in the garb of a waiting-maid, in an obscure quarter of London. Faithfully and energetically Warwick proceeded to carry into effect his engagements with Margaret of Anjou. The powerful fleet of the Duke of Burgundy, superior at this time to the united navies of England and France f, happened to be blockading the mouth of the Seine, and accordingly it was not tiU after a delay of some weeks that Warwick was enabled to quit the shores of France. At length a violent tempest compelled the blockading ships to seek shelter in the ports of Scotland and Holland, and the sea was once more open to Warwick. On the 4th of August he quitted Angers, and on the 13th of September disembarked the small force imder his command at Plymouth and Dartmouth. His retm-n to his native country was hailed by the great mass of the people widi extraordinary enthusiasm. In an almost ina"edibly minster on the 13th of October 1453 ; Anne Neville wn* bom in Warwick Castle in 1456. The young prince is said to have been eminently accomplished and handsome ; " the composition of his body," according to Habington, " being guilty of no fiiult but a too feminine beauty." — Kennet, vol. i. p. 453. According to Shaks- peare's description of him, — " A sweeter and n lovelier gentleman, Framed in the ]irodigality of nature, Young, \aliant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal. The spacious world cannot again alford." King Jiirluii-d III., Act i. Sc. 2. • Hist, do Mnigut'iice d'Anjoii, jar VAhhi Trcvost, p. 344. f l)e Comuiines, tome i. j). 231). KING EICHAED THE THIRD. 43 laughty Margaret, it was cheerfully undertaken by the chap. iVencli king. Without delay, he invited to his court ■ — r^ — he persons principally interested in the memorable " reaty which his talents and subtlety subsequently enabled him to accomphsh. It was indeed a remark- ible party whom he assembled around him in the old )alatial fortress of Angers. At the time when Mar- garet made her tardy appearance in its halls, there ivere already met there the renowned Warwick, the "alse and fickle Clarence, and his beautiful duchess, [sabel Neville. Thither subsequently repaired two of ;he bravest warriors of their age, John de Vere, Earl jf Oxford, and Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke. Thither also came Eene King of Sicily, father of Queen Margaret, the Countess of Warwick with her gentle laughter the Lady Anne, and lastly Margaret herself, July is- iccompanied by the gallant and beautiful boy in whose welfare every wish of her heart was centred, he who From his infancy had been the occasion of her heroism, tier self-devotion, and her crimes. As may be readily imagined, it was not till after urgent and repeated entreaties, and after almost fruitless endeavours on the part of King Louis, that Margaret was induced to confront Warwick face to face, and to confer with him on the means of re-establish- ing her husband on his throne. When at length the meeting took place, the scene must have been a singularly striking one. Warwick, we are told, falling on his knees before the queen, solemnly " offered himself to be bounden by aU manner of ways to be a true and faithful subject for the time to come ; " Mar- garet, on her part, compelhng the proud earl to remain in this humihating posture for a quarter of an hour, before she could be prevailed upon to pronounce his pardon.* At length a treaty was concluded, which was * Chastellain, Chron. par Buchon, tome ii. p. 243. 48 KINO RICHARD THE THIRD. ('IIA.P. chivalrous king took leave of his lovely queen, then — ^^ — ■ on the eve of becoming a mother, little could he 1470. liHYQ imagined that, within a few short weeks, he himself would become a miserable exile. Little could he have believed that, during his eventful absence, his himted queen would give birth to a male heir to the throne in the prison-sanctuary at Westminster ; indebted to the monks for procuring her an ordi- nary nurse in her travail, and to a butcher, more tender-hearted or more loyal than his fellows, for the common food by which she and her female attendants supported existence. Edward, as he himself afterwards related to De Commines, was at dinner in a fortress near Lynn, when suddenly the astounding tidings were brought to him that the Marquis of Montagu, his personal friend and favourite, with other influential barons in whom he had bhndly confided, were tampering with his forces. Xot- withstanding he had long been accustomed to encounter treachery and ingratitude, he at first refused to credit such shameless apostasy. Nevertheless he sent forth mes- sengers to investigate the truth of the rumours, and in the mean time rapidly arrayed himself in his armour. The inteUigence which the messengers brought back was sulliciently disheartening. Not only had the soldiei-s been induced to shout " God bless King Hemy," but the rebels were advancing in overwhelmuig numbers. Fortunately the only access to the fortress was by a l)ridge which Edward had taken the precaution to guard with a few of his most devoted followei-s. Ac- cordingly, without a moment's delay, ho leaped into the saddle, and, dashing along the bridge Avith a tew fol- lowers, madi^ the best of liis way to the neighbouring ,-:(!a,port ol' Lynn, llasl'mgs, alone, remained behind for a I'l'W nuiniU's, in order to urge his friemls to consult t.Iu'ir safely by preteiuling submission to Warwick, and then, putting spurs to his hoise, galloped off in the di- e KING EICHAED THE TIIffiD. 43 ;lie "death of Warwick, which took place a few months chap: ifterwards, prevented his fulfilling his part of the agree- v.. ,: nent, the great probability seems to be that the mar- i*'^^- iage of the Prince of Wales and Anne Neville was never consummated. The facts, indeed, are unquestionable, that they were not only solemnly afiianced to each other, but that, at the French court, Anne was called by the title of, and received the homage due to, a Princess of Wales.* But, on the other hand, when we consider the repugnance with which Queen Margaret regarded their union, and the singular proviso introduced into the marriage treaty, we may reasonably doubt whether they were ever united to each other by any more binding obHgation than that of a marriage contract, the future confirmation of which was dependent on the fulfilment of certain specified conditions. It has even been asserted by a modern historian that no contemporary writer speaks of the marriage as hav- ing been actually celebrated.^ But whatever the nature of the ceremony may have been, it took place at Amboise, about the end of July, in the presence of Louis XL, King Eene, Queen Margaret, the Duke and Duchess of Clarence, and the Earl of Warwick. The youth and beauty of the contracting parties must have added considerably to the interest of the scene. Edward was but seventeen, Anne Neville only fourteen years of age. J Already they had been intro- * Monstrelet, vol. iv. p. 309. •f Sharon Turner's Hist, of the Middle Ages, vol. iii. p. 323, note. Ed. 1830. This would seem to be almost too sweeping an assertion. The continuator of the Croyland Chronicle certainly, in one place, merely speaks of " espousals " between Prince Edward and Anne as having been "contracted" (p. '462). Further on, however, we read : " After, as already stated, the son of King Henry, to whom the Lady Anne, the youngest daughter of the Earl of Warwick, had been married, was slain at the battle of Tewkesbury, Eichard Duke of Gloucester sought the said Anne in marriage," &c. (p. 469.) J Edward Prince of "Wales was. born at the palace of West- 00 KING RICIURD THE THIRD. CHAP, parliament as an usurper ; Richard of Gloucester _ "• _. was attainted and outlawed. But the daring and ^^^1- indomitable spirit of King Edward and his brother, Gloucester, was destined to triumph over every diffi- culty. Having obtained from his brother-in-law, the Duke of Burgundy, a loan of fifty thousand florins* Edward, early in the month of March 1471, set sail from the port of Vere, in the island of Walcheren, with about two thousand men, and, on the 14 th of that month, disembarked at Eavenspur, in Yorkshire, the same place at which, seventy-two years previously, Henry of Lancaster had landed to depose Eichard H Like Henry, he disclaimed having any design upon the crown. His object in returning to England, he said, was merely to recover the inheritance to which he was entitled as Duke of York.j- He even carried this dissim.ulation so far, as to cause his followers to shout " Long hve King Henry," in the different towns and villages through which they passed. He himself wore in his helmet an ostrich-plume, the device of his rival, Edward Prince of Wales. J The Duke of Gloucester accompanied his brother to England ; the young prince landing about fom* miles from Eavenspur, at the head of three hundi-ed men. § Together, the brothers commenced their desperate march towards the south, — for almost desjiei-ate it must have seemed even to themselves. For the fii'st few days Edward's progress was discoui'aging in the extreme. Scarcely a smgle individual joined liis stan- dard. But though the men of the north kept aloof from him, he was everjrvvhere allowed to pass without molestation. "Within four miles of liis line of marcli stood Pomfret Castle: but though Warwick's brother, tlio • Do Commincs, tonio i. p. 257. j- I'^k'i'twood Cliron. p. 1. J Li'IiiikI'h Collect, vol. ii. pp. 503-1. § FIt't'lwooil Clu'on. p. .'i. KING EICHAED THE THIBD. 47 short space of time he found himself the . leader of chap. 30,000 men. The sorrows and wrongs of the un- - — ^ . brtunate Henry VI. were descanted upon from the ■'■^'^^• 3ulpit ; the wandering minstrel never failed to dehght bis audiences in town or in village, so long as the idrtues and valour of "Warwick were his theme ; no ballad of the day, we are told, was popular, but such IS redounded to the glory of the " Kingmaker." * In the mean time, sunning himself in the smiles of beauty, and sauntering in an atmosphere of voluptuous sensuahty, King Edward persisted in underrating his enemy, even though that enemy was Warwick. In pain his brother-in-law, the Duke of Bm-gundy, urged him to make preparations for repelling the invader.f Trusting to his own superior mOitary genius and dauntless personal valour, and, as De Commines teUs us, affecting to despise- and laugh at danger as affording evidence of his resolution and courage, Edward per- binaciously persisted in pursuing his course of sensual inactivity. Let "Warwick, he said, land on Enghsh soil ; there was nothing he wished better. Dearly as Edward prized the smiles of woman and the pleasures of the banquet, no less grateful to dim was the bray of the clarion when it proclaimed Lhe approach of danger. No sooner, then, did his subjects break out into armed revolt, than, with his usual promptitude and vigour, he saUied forth to grapple with the enemy. But the time for action bad been allowed to ghde unprofitably away. The svrongs and exile of Warwick had excited an enthu- siasm in his favour which, for a season, proved irresis- ;ible. Treason was rife, moreover, among those whom Edward had most trusted and loved. "When, in the jloomy apartments of the Tower, the sanguiae and * Lingard's Hist, of Engl. vol. iv. p. 178. Ed. 1849. I De Commines, tome i. pp. 239, 242. a ■gfg 'd •! gmo; 'sautnimoQ 8Q | '^SSI 'P^ 'S9t "^^ 'nop^nni^ -noQ apiuoaqQ pnBjiCojQ i -oig 'ffz 'dd ■] auio:). 'ssutmraog a(j j|t jCq paounouap sbm. 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'paBAipg; aomjj 'uos jaq piitj ■}a.rBSauj\[ naan^ jBqj jnq 'j^olib [njjaAiod b qijAV SuiqoBoaddB >[otA\. -JB^ SBAi. X|UO 30U }Bq; TiiTi[ paqoBaj aouaSqia^iii naqAV 'aopuoq; jo suazT^i.:) aq^ jo suor)Bpi:jB.i2iioo aq^ oaioooj Oi arai} i^aojBOs pBq pjBAvpg; -ap^Bq jo ppy aq; uo jno{BA siq Aq pasdqoa aq o; patii!)sap sbav jauiqBO oq; ut jfjpiwus joj uouBjndaj s.piBqoiy; uaqAi. SniqoBOjddB 'jsbj SBAi. A'Bp aqj }nfj -saqqiqB puB ^ttaiuSpnf siq jo pamjoj pBq aq uoraido aq; st?av qSiq Avoq aanapiAa laq^jnj spjojB 'ja}saano[£) jo ajpiQ aq; 'joq;ojq jaSunol siq jo aoiApBaq; o; pred joao pjBAvpg; qoiqAv aauajajap aqj^ •iniB siq 0; jnoSiA puB paos ffiq o; uoprqosaj iions iiia^ 'A'i:p .|^, ^ aiqBJOUiaui ^Bq; uo 'qaiqAV 'auaos aq; jo ao^rqoadK [BnpB ' .jj~ lis SBAV aiHAajsL au"V ^'^H'^ oSpap\vou>[ mi 0; pappB •dviii •aami ani aaviioia oniti fs 66 KING EICIIARD THE THIRD. CTiAP. to him, Edward dfrcrcd up, " at even-song," his own _ii: . .stiuidard and that o\' the great Ijuron who had formerly ^'''l- raised liiin to a throne. Thither also were brought the bodies of Waiwiek and M(jiitagu, which for three days " layid iiakid in St Paul is Chirch to be seene."* Li the mean time, (iueeii Margaret had for weeks been jneveutcd by contrary winds and tempestuous weather iiom quitting the slKjres of France. At length, on the 13th of April, she was enabled to set sail from Ilarfleur, and, on the following day, — the veiy day on which the great battle was raging at Barnet, — she landed with a few but intrepid followers at Wepnouth. Eelyiiig on the resources and the mUitary genius of Warwick, as well as on the enthusiasm wliich her pre- sence in Endand had hitherto never failed to excite among her partisans, the high-spirited queen appears to have entertained a confident hope that at length the causi', for which she had so long and so heroically struggled, was about to be triumphant. "SMien, there- fore, a few hours after her landing, she was infoi'med of the defeat and death of the mightiest of her cham- pions, and of the re-committal of King Hemy to the Tower, her gi'ief and disappointment wei'e overwhelm- ing. For the first time, in the couree of her many misfoi'tuucs and reverses, she appears to have been t)verwhelmed by despondency, and to have almost yielded herself up to despair. The time had arrived when King Edward might have said of tlio royal heroine, as John Knox aftowards said of ]\[ary Queen of Scots, — "I made the liyaMia weep." AVliilo in this ihs- tractcd state, she was discovered by the luirls of Pem- brokc and Pevonsliire, in the saiu'tuaiy of the abbey of licaulieu in Ilamiishire, where the widow of Warwick had also found slu'hi'r.-j- Traditiim still points out an apailiiu'iit in tliat interesting ruin, in which the descend- • I.rlimd'H ('(illccl. vi>l. ii. p. .'lOri ; I'Mt'olwoiul Chivn. p. 21. ■f KIci'l wooil ( 'liion. p. I'L', II. KING EICHARD THE THIRD. 53 Neville, Axchbishop of York, who was secretly Edward's chap. friend.* Under these circumstances the young king had only to present himself before the gates of London to find himself invited to come within the walls. On the 10 th of April the Tower was taken possession of in his name, and on the following day he rode through the city amidst the enthusiastic acclamations of the people, and took up his abode in the bishop's palace. Never, per- haps, had so hazardous, and apparently desperate, an enterprise been crowned with more signal success. Six months only had elapsed since he had escaped a fugitive to Holland ; twenty-eight days only since he had landed at Eavenspur. Yet Edward was again in possession of the capital of his kingdom ; his rival, King Henry, was again a prisoner in his hands. In the mean time, if, as there is reason to beheve, Richard of Gloucester was really enamoured of Anne Neville, greatly must his exile have been embittered by ihe reflection that she was not only united to another, but that his fortunate rival was the heir of the detested house of Lancaster. Not impossibly, indeed, he may have been aware of the existence of that especial article in the marriage-treaty, which delayed its perfecting till such time as Warwick should have completed the recovery of the sovereignty of England for the Eed Eose. If such was the case, Eichard doubtless resolved that, as far as depended upon his own indomitable energy and valour, the marriage of Anne Neville should remain unconsummated. Looking forward to the in- evitable time when the banner of York must be again confronted with that of Lancaster, he probably panted for the occasion when haply his sword or his lance might leave Anne Neville a widow, yet stiU a maid. When, a few months afterwards, he made his famous onslaught into the ranks of the Duke of Somerset at Tewkesbury, it may have been this passionate feeling, * Fleetwood Chron. p. 16 ; Paston Letters, by Fenn, vol. ii. p. 65. E 3 08 KIX(J RICTIARD THE THIRD. CHAP, completely succcssrul. Soinersft eagerly led his men _ ": . from their intrencliments, for the purpase, as he thought, "^^- of pursuing the Y(jrkists, -when Gloucester suddenly iiiced about and attacked the Lancastrians in his turn with impetuous fury. In \ain Somerset endeavours! to regain his vantage-ground. Together Gloucester and Somerset entered the encampment ; the forces of the latter in full flight, those of Gloucester in eager pur- suit. At this moment an incident occurred wliich w&a singidarly characteristic of the fierce vindictiveness of the age. Ilad Lord Wenlock, it seems, hastened to Somerset's assistance, the fortunes of the day might have been reversed. Enraged by Wenlock's delay, and at his own discomfitiu'e, the duke no sooner re- gained his uitrenchments, than, riding furiously up to his noble comrade in arms, he denoimced him in the most opprobrious terms as a traitor and a coward. The probability is that Wenlock recriminated. It is only certain, however, that Somerset's battle-axe descended on the head of Wenlock, and dashed out his brains.* This remorseless act was followed by the promiscuous slaughter of the flying Lancastrians by their victorious foes. The carnage, more especially on a narrow bridge which spanned a millstream, is described as terrifia The Earl of Devonshire and Sir John Beaufort, brother of the Duke of Somerset, were slain in the battle. The duke himself, the Grand Prior of the order of St. John, and several other persons of distinction, were taken prisoners and beheaded ; the Duke of Gloucester, as High Constable, and the Duke of Norfolk, as Mai-shal of England, sitting as their juilges.f Thus, by his \'alour and generalship, was the young Duke of (llouct'ster mainly inslrumontal in winning for his brother Edward the great victory which secured him on his throne. Tints, "wrought high in the • iriiliini;lim in Kcnnct, vol. i. p. ■li)'2. f Flii'(\vot>(l Cliron, p. 31. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 55 six hours the battle was furiously and obstinately con- chap. •tested. In order to inspire confidence in his men, War- . ^^- wick dismounted from his charger and fought on foot.* 1471. Observing that his followers faltered, he flung himself into the thickest of the fight, and, by his exhortations, and the example of desperate valour which he set them, restored confidence in his ranks. Accordmg to tradition, Gloucester and Warwick encountered each other in the last charge, when the great earl, remembering an affect- ing promise which he had made to his friend the late Duke of York, spared the hfe of his son. The field of Barnet was the death-scene of Warwick. A thick fog obscured the part of the field in which he fought ; his followers mistook friends for foes ; and in the midst of the terrible confusion, attacked by overpowering numbers, the " Eangmaker " met his death.f His fall decided the fate of the day. His fate was shared by his brother, the Marquis of Montagu. The same evening Edward and Gloucester returned to London in triumph. In their train was the ill-fated Henry VI., whom, at the commencement of the battle, Edward had placed in front of the Yorkist ranks, exposed to immi- nent peril from the arrows of his own friends. When the victors and the vanquished parted company on reaching London, the captive monarch was conducted back through silent streets to his miserable apartment in the Tower, from whence, five weeks afterwards, he was carried to his grave. Edward and Gloucester, in the mean time, passed through admiring masses of people to the great cathedral of St. Paul's, where, in gratitude for the victory which had been vouchsafed * King Edward IV., tte victor of so many battles, always fought on foot. De Commines, tome i. p. 234. f The old chroniclers differ in their accounts of Warwick's death. A.ccording to the Fleetwood Chronicle (p. 20), " In this battle was slain the Earl of Warwick, somewhat fleeing." The chronicle, printed in Leland's Collectanea (vol. ii. p. 505), also implies that he was slain in flight. V: 4 GO KINO RICIIAIID THE TlimP. ciiAi'. roscuc a fatlici' from iiii^cnible oppression, and to ^^': . ivcovcM' ii crown thut liiul bcoii violently usurped.* '''''• Incensed at liis hardihood, tli(; kin^' is said to have struck him with his f^aunlh't; on wliich the Dukes of C'laicnce and (ilou(;(stii', the Marquis of Dorset and Lord Ihislin;_i;s, arc adiiiiicd to have hurried him from I'^dward's presence, and to havi; despalclied him in an adjoining apiirtment with their poniards. •}• The earliest writer, we bcHcvc, wlio has chronicled this allecting story is Polydore Virgil, whose authority, inasmuch as he had conversed with, and drew many of the materials of his liistory from, the actors in the scenes which he described, must ceitainly be received with some dcrerence. But, on the other hand, P. In the same venerable e KING RICIUnD TIIK THIRD. c'lTAP. lively states that the prince "was taken fleeing to the _ "' _,- townwurds, and slain in the field."* Lastly, Bernard i"^7l. Andreas, who wrutc in 1501, and whose prejudices were all arrayed against Eichard, clearly imphes that the prince was slain in fight.f The accounts which have been handed down to us of the fate of the heir of the house of Lancaster, being thus contradictory and confused, we may fairly inquire with what justice Eichard of Gloucester can be arraigned as one of his murderers. Certainly no evidence can be more unsatisfactory than that which has been hitherto ad- vanced to convict him of the charge. The young and the brave are seldom cold-blooded assassins. Eichard, moreover, is known to have been sensitively aHve to the good opinion of the world ; and accordingly, when we consider how iudehble a stain, even in that remoi-seless and imscriipulous age, the perpetration of so cowardly a murder would have affixed on the perpetrator of it, we may safely ask whether it is probable that he would have sidhed the knighthood which he valued so highly, by staining his sword with blood wliich he had no personal interest in shedding, and by committing an act which might have been delegated to the common headsman. J • Fleetwood Chronicle, p. 30. The statement of the Crovhuid chronicler (p. 4 (50) is too obscm-ely worded to be received as evidence either on one. side or the other. I " Is enim ante Bern.ardi cmnpum in Theoxberyc prtclio belli- gereiia ccciderat." — 17/. lleii. S<'i>t. pp. 2\-'2. \ Of our modern historians, Ciirle, apparently with little reason, iiilimales that the Prince of \yales was a.^s-sassinatod by Pei-set and Ifaslings. Hist, of Eng. vol. ii. p. 7'.>0. Hume, on the contniry, who (iiietcs the prejudiced nuthorily of Polydorc Virgil, Hall, and Ibilinshcd, coulidcntly lav.s it down (hat the n.-*;as.si nation took place ill till' jiicsriu'c of the king, and that t'larcnce and tiloucester took li.irl in the murder. Hist. kA' Kiig. vol. iii. p. .'tl. l.inganl's iiiiiiuiit, is more guarded. " I'Mward," he .-^ivs, "had the brutality to Hirilii' llie young |iriiiee ill the fiiec with Ids gauntlet ; Clarence .ijid (JloiMCMii r, 11/- jiirliiijKi the kiiii/hls in their rttinue, despatched KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 59 )pinion of the king by his wisdom and valour," * we chap. ind him, at the early age of eighteen, filling with s. — ^— ;redit the most important and responsible offices ; 1*71. -espected at the council-table for his wisdom, and idmired for his chivalry on the field of battle. We night search in vain, perhaps, in the annals even of ;he wisest and the best, for a more iUustrious boyhood ! ind yet, even at this early period of his life, — a period ivhen youth is usually actuated by the purest and most yenerous motives, — we find him charged by the pre- udiced chroniclers, who wrote under the dynasty of :he Tudors,,with the commission of the most atrocious crimes. True it is, that the time was destined to arrive when ambition, and events ahnost beyond human con- trol, tempted him to become an usurper and a murderer. A-s yet, however, not only, we think, can no oifence 36 with justice laid to his charge, but, on the other land, his conduct appears to have been eminently dis- inguished by integrity, loyalty, and honour. Less resemblance, indeed, is to be traced between Eichard n youth, and Eichard in manhood, than between ;he Eichard of Shakspeare and the Eichard of true aistory. The earhest crime, in point of date, which the old jhroniclers have attributed to Eichard of Gloucester, is lis presumed share in the murder of Edward Prince of iVales after the battle of Tewkesbury. According to he common version of this pitiable tragedy, Edward IV., )n the young prince being brought into his presence, laughtily asked him how he dared to take up arms igainst' his lawful sovereign. If Edward, as is probable, mticipated a submissive answer, he must have been hsappointed as well as astonished. "With a boldness md a dignity, such as became the grandson of Henry V., he royal youth rephed that he was in arms to * Habington in Kennet, vol. i. p. 456. 04 KIN'fi mCIIAED THE TIIIED. CHAP, beauty whicli had formerly dazzled kings. Her days "■ , were passed in tears and lamentations. At length, on ^^'^1- the 25th of Auf,mst 14S(), tlie afflicted queen breathed her last in the chUteau of Dampierre, in the fifty- second year of her age.* On the night of the 21st day of May 1471, the same day on which Eang Edward returned to London, and seventeen days only after the battle which lost him his crown, peiished, in durance and misery, the last king of the house of Lancaster, — the pious, the gentle, and most unfortunate kiuLS Henry "\X The following day, we are toldf, being Ascension Eve, the body of the late king, "borne barefaced on the bier," and surrounded by " more glaves and staves than toi'ches," was carried from the Tower to St. Paul's, wlicre it remained for some time exposed to the public view, the "face open that every man might see him." J " To satisfy the credulous," writes a modem historian, " it was reported that he had died of grief But though the conqueror might silence the tongues, he could not control the belief nor the pens of his subjects; and the writers who hved under the next dynasty, not only proclaimed the murder, but attributed the black deed to tlie advice, if not to the dagger, of the younger of the three brothers, Eichard Duke of Gloucester." § Accmxling to Shakspeare, who follows the accoimts of Hall and Sir Thomas JNIore, Richard killed the uuhappy king with his own hand. " K. ITenr)/. Men for tlioir sotis'. wiaos for tlioir hu.sb.inds', And orph.an.s for flicir pnrcnt,'*' limolo.^i.'! doalJi, Sli.iU rue the hour ihnt ever thou \v;ist born. • Strickland's tjtiiocn.s ol' iMigl.iml, vol, ii. pp. oll-i!. f I'lib^Mii, p. ('i(')2 I l.i'l.'iud's Coll, vol. ii. ]i. 007; AVarkwortli, p. -J I. \ W'lirkworlh Cliroiiiclc, p. 'J 1 ; Loliiiur.s Collect, vol. ii. p. 507. § Lingnnl'.s HInI. of l'".ngljijul, vol. iv. p. I'.il'. KING EICHABD THE THIRD. 61 trian prejudices, but it must be borne in mind that he chap. wrote his history expressly at the desire of Henry VII., , ^^- and consequently with every inducement to malign 1471. the character and actions of Eichard III. Moreover, we have the accounts of stiU older writers than Polydore Virgil, not one of whom charges Eichard of Gloucester with being an actor in this detestable crime. Buck, on the authority of a faithful contem- porary MS., asserts that when the bloody attack was made on the young prince, " the Duke of Gloucester only, of all the great persons, stood still, and drew not his sword."* Fabyan, an alderman of London and a contemporary, though he describes the^ murder as having taken place in the presence of the king, in no way inculpates Eichard of Gloucester. The king, he says, " strake him (the prince) with his gauntlet upon the face, after which stroke, so by him received, he was by the king's servants incontinently slain."f Great doubt, indeed, seems to exist, whether the story of the young prince having been assassinated in the presence of King Edward is not altogether a fiction. Certainly there appears to be quite as much reason for presuming that he was slain either in the battle or in flight. Of three contemporary writers, De Commines clearly imphes that he fell on the field of battle J; another observes, — " and there was slain in the field Prince Edward, which cried for succour to his brother- in-law, the Duke of Clarence ; "§ while the third posi- * Buck's Life and Eeign of Eichard III. in Kennet, vol. i. p. 549. f Fabyan's Chronicle, p. 662. i Memoires de Commines, vol. i. p. 262. " Et ftit le prince de Galles tu^ sur le champ et plusieurs aultres grans seigneurs," &c. — Ed, 1841. § Warkworth Chronicle, p. 18. The term " brother-in-law " has reference to Clarence and Prince Edward having married two sisters, the daughters of the Earl of "Warwick. G6 laNG EICIIAKD THE THIRD. CHAP, have boon only with the hope that a chance arrow ._ "• _. might \m'\\:e tlic brain or the heart of his rival. ^'^'^^- AthuiUing, tlierefoie, that grounds exist for suspect- ing King Edward of having rid himself of his unhappy prisoner by foul means, we have next to inquire into the nature of the evidence whicli charges liichard of Glou- cester with having participated in or committed the crime. Certainly more than one writer, either con- temporary or very nearly contemporary with him, liave unhesitatingly charged him with the guilt. " He killed by others," says the chronicler Rous, "or, as many behevc, with his own hand, that most sacred man King Heniy VI."* Again, Phihp de Commines writes, " Immediately after this battle, the Duke of Gloucester either killed with his own hand, or caused to be miu:- dered in his presence, in some spot apart, this good man King Henry." f These passages are doubtless remark- able. Lt't us turn, however, on the other hand, to less prejudiced contemporary authority, and Ave shall either find no mention of Gloucester's name as con- ni'cted with the foul transaction, or else his presumed jiarticipation in it is merely introduced as one of the rumours of the time. " Of the death of this prince.'' says Fabyan, " diverse tales were told, but tJie most common fame went that he was stykked A\-ith a dagger by the hands of the Duke of Gloucester." if Even Polydore Virgil confines liimself to the remark tliat common report attributed the crime to Gloucester. " Henry VI.," he says, '• being not long before de- I)rived of his diadem, was put to death in the Tower of London. The continual report is that • Udii.s'a words arc : " Et quoil in Hci ol omnium Antjlioorura, ininio (iiuniuni n.iliiiiiinii :iil qnonini notili.nn pononit, ilotostabilis- .MiiTiuiu cr.'il, ipsum sinidi.ssinuiin vinim rcgoin llourioum Sextum ]iiT :iii(iM, vcl iiuilliM (•n'di'n(i]m.i mami potiiis propriii, interfccit." — ./oiiiiiiiK l\ii/lsi ///sturiil lu)/inii Aiujliir, p. 'i\o. I De ('.iiininiiicH, tdinc i. p. 'JUl. \ K.'ibynii's ('lniiiui.'K', p. (UI^. KING BICHAED THE THIRD. 63 Prom the story of Eichard of Gloucester let us briefly chap. jvert to the fortunes of the unhappy Margaret of v__ij: -njou. It was doubtless with a mother's pride, not l^^l. nmingled with a mother's fears, that, on the morning f the battle of Tewkesbury, she had beheld her gaUant 3n arraying him self for his first and last fight. When le mother and son parted on that fatal morning it was )r the last time. Having witnessed the total defeat of er army, Margaret fled with the ladies of her suite to church near Tewkesbury, in which edifice, two days fterwards, she was arrested by Sir William Stanley, rho conducted her to King • Edward at Coventry, [ere she first received the aflflicting intelligence that ae was no longer a mother. But other sorrows awaited er. The haughtiest princess of her time was compelled 5 figure in her enemy's triumphant progress to London, rhere on her arrival she was committed to the Tower. Within these walls languished her unhappy consort ; ut strict orders had been given that they should be kept sunder. Only a few hours, indeed, elapsed after her dmission into the Tower, when it was announced to Eargaret that she was a widow. The question whether jng Henry died a natural death, or whether he feU y the hand of an assassin, we shall presently have to onsider. Of Margaret of Anjou it remains to be said, lat, after having been detained a prisoner in difierent )rtresses in England for nearly five years, she was msomed and released on the 13th of JSTovember 1475, )r the sum of fifty thousand crowns. She then returned ) her native country. But fife had long since ceased ) possess any charms for her. Old age seems to have rept prematurely over her. Disease ravaged the im witli their swords." — Hist, of Eng.Yol.ir. p. 189. Lastly, baron Turner, who had access to better sources of information, iffers altogether from his predecessors ; his opinion agreeing with le contemporary account which we have already quoted, that the :ince " was taken as flying towards the town, and was slain in the aid." — Middle Ages, vol. iii. p. 313. 68 KINO EICIIARD THE THIED. CHAP. "With Edward III. it seems to have been a favourite ^"-: — . pliice of abode, and hwe, in 1342, his queen presented ^^^^- him with a princess.* It had witnessed the bridal, pleasures of the unfortunate Eichard IL in 1396 f , and hither Edward IV. had conducted his beautiful queen after their romantic marriage was announced to the world. Their daughter, the queen of Henry VIL, afterwards lay-in there of her last child. Moreover, at this very time, the queen, with " my lord prince, and my ladies his daughters," were residing at the Tower.J Tliither, then, the king, as a matter of course, proceeded to embrace and to receive the congratulations of his wife and children. Thither also his brother Eichard doubtless accompanied him. Unmarried, and appa- rently having at this lime no fixed London residence of his own, what could be more natural than that the young prince should have passed, under the same roof ■witli his royal relatives, the single night which the troubled state of his kingdom permitted the two bro- thers to pass in London ? Such is the prmcipal evidence on which Eichai-d of Gloucester has been accused of having committed one of the most atrocious crimes on record. But is it likely, is it even conceivable, that he was the cold-blooded assassin such as he is described by Shakspearo and the later chroniclers ? He was only in the nineteenth ye;\r of his age. No man H\ing shriink fi-om incmTiug the censures of mankind with greater sonsitivenoss. Xo man Uving took greater pleasm'c in hstening to tlie shouts and applause of his fi-llow-men. As Habingtoii obsi'ivcs, — " I (.'iinnot believe that a man so cunning in declining envy, and winning honour to his nixine, would hiive midertaken suoli a business." i§ Moreover, on the • UiiyU-y's 'I'liwcr of London, p. -(!. t ii.i'd. p. n:,. J Klcrlwooil t'lironii'Io, pp. .'i I, .'^7. § ll.ibiM;.^loii in Koiuu-I, vol. i. p. tjj. KING EICHARD THE THIED. 65 The owl shrieked at thy birth, an evil sign ; CHAP. The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time ; II. Dogs howled, and hideous tempests shook down trees ; -j^/yi The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top. And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain. And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope ; To wit, an indigest deformed lump, Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, To signify thou cam'st to bite the world ; And, if the rest be true which I have heard. Thou cam'st • Gloucester. I'll hear no more : — Die, prophet, in thy speech. [Stabs Mm." * That King Henry met his end by foul means, there s unhappily only too much reason for conjecturing.. To he house of York, his hfe or death unquestionably in- volved consequences of considerable importance. So ong as he Uved, it was certain that he would be a rally- Qg point for the house of Lancaster ; while, if he died, it vould leave Edward without any formidable competitor or the throne. Edward, then, had powerful motives for ;etting rid of his rival. Moreover, not only had he the aere motive, but we have evidence that he projected, f he did not actually contrive, the death of Henry. " It ?as resolved in King Edward's cabinet council," says labington, " that, to take away all title from future in- urrections. King Henry should be sacrificed." f This ssertion, if true, certainly gives a peculiar importance certain instructions given by Edward to the Arch- lishop of York, " to keep King Henry out of sane- uary."J Yet more indicative of Edward's anxiety rid himself of the deposed monarch, is the fact of lis having placed him in the front of his army at he recent battle of Tewkesbury. Surely this could * King Henry VI, Part III. Act v. Scene 6. f Habington in Kennet, vol. i. p. 455. J Leland, CoU. vol. ii. p. 508. F 70 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, a beautiful girl, who, in all probability, would increase - — ^ — • the nuuibcr (if princes of the house of York. Lastly, 1471. presuming that it wus in the nature of Eichard of Gloucester to commit so dastardly a crune, he was to all appearance deprived of the meuns. The apart- ments of so important a prisoner of state as Henry VL must have been sentinelled by no inconsiderable mili- tary guard. We have evidence that two esquires, Robert Eatcliffe and WiUiam Sayer, with no fewer than ten or eleven other persons, were appointed to attend upon the imhappy monarch.* Eichard, more- over, held no mihtary command within the walls of the Tower ; and, lastly, Anthony Earl Eivers, who at this period was lieutenant of this palatial fortress, was not only on bad terms with Eichard, but was also one of the most unlikely men living to lend himself to the commission of a cold-blooded murder. Again, one contemporary wi'iter, at least, has attributed the death of Hemy to mere natural causes. According to his statement, sui'h was the effect produced on the mind of the imbecile king by his personal misfortunes and the utter ruin of his friends, that " of pm-e displeasiu'e and melancholy he died."'|' And after aU, considering the maze of confusion and prejudice tln-ough wliich we are forced to grope our way to the light, this may possibly be the true version of a story Avhich for ceutmies has been invested by the poet and the liistoriau with so much mystery and horror. It would be no less interostincf than curious were we enabled to trace under \vliat cii'cumstancos and at what particular period Eichnrd and the Lady Anne (irst met ai'ter tlie battle of Tewkosburv. It suited the Ljcnius of Sliaksponro to represent their meeting lis li;i\iiig taken ])l!U'e at night in the streets of Loudon, Home twenly days after the battle. It was on that siid oi'casioii, according to the hnmortal dramatist^ * IvymcrV Firdora, vol. xi. p. 712. f Fleetwood Chronicle, p. 38. KING KICHAED THE THIRD. 67 Richard Duke of Gloucester killed him with a sword, chaPi ivhereby his brother might be delivered from all fear of , "• . lOstUity."* " He slew," says Sir Thomas More, " with 1^71. lis own hand, as men constantly say. King Henry VI., aeing prisoner in the Tower." f On the other hand, ;he trustworthy continuator of Croyland, though he sntertains no doubt of King Henry having been mur- lered in the Tower, omits all mention of the name of jrloucester in connection with that mysterious event. J The Fleetwood and Warkworth chronicles are equally iHent. Some weight indeed has been attached to the bllowing passage in the latter chronicle, as indirectly sending to impHcate Eichard : — " The same night ;hat King Edward came to London, King Harry, being n ward in prison in the Tower of London, was put to ieath the 21st day of May, on a Tuesday night, be- ;wixt eleven and twelve of the clock ; being then at he Tower the Duke of Gloucester, brother to King Mward, and many others." § But supposing it to )e the case that Eichard passed that eventful night in he Tower, the fact adds no additional weight to the canty evidence which has been brought forward Lgainst him. The Tower of London, it must be re- nembered, was at this period, and had long been, a oyal residence. Here the queen of Edward H. was lehvered of her eldest daughter, " Jane of the Tower." || * Polydore Virgil, " lit fama constans est," lib. xxiv. p. 674 ; and !amd. Soc. Trans, p. 156. f Sir T. More's Eichard III. p. 9. J Tlie writer seems, by implication, to lay tlie crime at Edward's oor : "I would pass over in silence tlie fact tliat at this period Ling Henry was found dead in the Tower of London ; may God pare and grant time for repentance to the person, whoever he was, rho thus dared to lay sacrilegious hands upon the Lord's anointed ! lence it is that he who perpetrated this has justly earned the title f tyrant, whUe he who thus suffered has gained that of a glorious lartyr." — Groyl. Chron. Cont. p. 468. § Warkworth Chronicle, p. 21. II Bayley's Tower of London, p. -22. r 2 7-2 Kli\(. EICIIARD THE THIRD. Qllj^ " Yuur l)caiily, lliat did haunt me in my sleep, II. Td undcrlakc' the ili-ulli of all the world, ■ ' So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom." • 1471. Tliat such a scene (if intemperate recrimination should have taken place between a royal youth of eighteen and a high-born yoiuig lady (jf seventeen, at such a spot too, and imder such circumstances, is, to say the least, extieniely unlikely. But not only is it improbable, but we liave evidence that no such interview could by any possibility have taken place. At the time when the cor])se of Henry VI. was on its way to Giertsey, Eichard ■was marching with his brother. King Edward, against the Bastard Falconbridge ; while Amie. who had fallen into the hands of Edward after the battle of Tewkes- bury |, was in all probabihty in close custody with her mothei-in-law. Queen Margaret, in the Tower. From the Tower, Amie Neville would seem to have been transferred by the king to the charge and keeping of her sister, the Duchess of Clarence. We might have presumed, therelV))-e, that from this period Gloucester ■was afforded every favourable opportunity of couvei-sing ■with, and pajdng court to, his fair cousin. We have e\idence, however, tliat such was far fi-om having been the case. Clarence, indeed, had good reasons for wishing to keep his brother and sister-in-law apart In right of his wife, the eldest daughter of die Earl of Warwick, he claimed to be the sole possessor of the princely domains of the Kingmaker; whereas, in tile cwut of Gloucester marrying the younger sister, tliere coidd hv little doubt but that lie would endeavour to obtain a share of the inlierit^uice. Clarence there- fore resolved to opjtose their union by every menus Avitliin his power. Under these ciicums(aiiees,(,!loucester not only found * KiiiK Kiohard HI. Ait i. Sicno ".'. •f lA'laiid's t'oUoi't. vol. ii. J). 60(;. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 69 lingle day which the royal brothers passed in London*, chap. Gloucester would seem to have been present with the ^^- dng in all the busthng and exciting scenes consequent 1471. Dn the latter 's triumphant return to his capital, f He ivas present at the knighting of the lord-mayor, the recorder, and the aldermen, who had so recently and so bravely defended the city for their sovereign against the Lancastrian forces commanded by the Bastard Falconbridge. He was present at the reception of the aobles who came to congratulate the king on his recent triumphs ; at the banquet which was held in celebration of these triumphs ; and lastly at the councils which met to advise with the king as to the best means of securing stabihty to his throne and future tranquHhty to the commonwealth. A more busy and eventful day it would be difficult to imagine. And yet we are called upon to beUeve that a vahant youth of eighteen could secretly steal away from scenes of excitement so congenial to his nature, in order to stab or stifle in his bed an old and feeble man, in whose death or in whose existence he could scarcely have any personal interest whatever. It may be argued, indeed, that Eichard had an object in getting rid of King Henry, in order to place himself nearer in succession to the throne. But, unless by a series of accidents altogether beyond the range of human probability, or unless by a series of wholesale premeditated crimes which the imagination shudders in contemplating, the probabihty of Eichard of Gloucester ascending the throne of the Plantagenets was slender in the extreme. His brother Edward was not only in the prime of youth, but was already the father of several children. His brother Clarence had recently married * " The king, incontinent after his coming to London, tarried but one day, and went with his whole army after his said traitors into Kent." — Fleetwood Chronicle, p. 38. t S. Turner's Middle Ages, vol. iii. p. 320. r 3 74 KING RICIIAED THE THIED. ciTAP. were united in the course of the preceding year, pos- _ ,1 — - sibly ii8 soon as her year of mourning for young 1172. Edward had expired. Such appetirs to have been the commencement of the famous quarrel between the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester. When the latter subsequently laid claim to a moiety of the Kingmaker's estates, Clarence, highly incensed, insisted on his own exclusive right to the lands of the Nevilles. " He may well have my lady sister-in- law," said Clarence, " but we will part no livelihood" * So great was his exasperation, that a hostile encounter between the two brothers was considered at the time as not improbable. "As for other tidings," writes Sir John Paston, " I trust to God that the two Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester shall be set at one by the award of the Idng." f Subsequently both brothers made an appeal to the king, who decided that they should plead their several causes before him in council Great abihty is said to have been displayed on both sides. " So many arguments," writes a contemporary, "were, with the greatest acuteness, put forward on either side, in the king's presence, who sat in judgment in the council-chamber, that all present, and the lawyei-s even, were quite surprised that these princes should find arguments in such abundance by means of which to support their respective causes.";}; Subsequently an act of parUament was passed (1474) wliich di\"ided the inheritances of the two sisters between them, giving to each brother a life-interest in his wife's estates, in the event of his sm-viving her.i^* .Vmong otlier lands of the Beauchamps and Nevilles, Richard became possessed of another princely residence in the north, • rnstou liOtlris, by Fcnn, vol. ii. p. 92. I Ibid. vol. V. p. (iO. J (niy. Cliron. Cunt., ji. 170. § S. 'I'uniw's Middle Ages, vol. iii. p. 32-1. II. liTL KING BICHAED THE THIED. 7 iv^hen the corpse of King Henry VI. was carried, chap. ' without singing or saying," from St. Paul's to Black- iriars, at which latter place it was subsequently em- aarked in " a kind of barge solemnly prepared and Drovided with lighted torches,"* for the purpose of aeing conveyed by water to Chertsey. Anne, as chief nourner, is described as ordering the bearers to " set iown their honourable load," and then, after a pathetic iddress to the corpse, uttering the most terrible impre- jations against the assumed murderer of her husband md of her father-in-law, — " Be it lawfiil that I invocate tliy ghost, To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son. Stabbed by the self-same hand that made these wounds ! Lo ! in these windows that let forth thy life, I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes : O, cui'sed be the hand that made these holes ! Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it ! Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence ! More direftil hap betide that hated wretch. That makes us wretched by the death of thee. Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads. Or any creeping venomed thing that lives ! If ever he have child, abortive be it. Prodigious, and untimely brought to light. Whose ugly and lumatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view ; And that be heir to his tmhappiness ! If ever he have wife, let her be made More miserable by the death of him Than I am made by my young lord and thee ! — Come now, toward Chertsey with your holy load." •[■ Eichard is then represented as appearing on the tage as if by accident, when there takes place that triking scene, in which Eichard of Gloucester woos, latters, and wins the Lady Anne. * Croyl. Chron. Cont. p. 468. f Eang Eichard III. Act i. Scene 2. r 4 76 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. I'llAP. And wik their ruin that lurarped our righ);? ^^- The midwife wondered ; and the women cried, 1472. ' O Jesus IjIusk uh, lie is born witli teeth ! ' And so I was, which plainly Higniiaed That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog." • According to Camden, " his moastrous birth foreshowed Lis monstrous proceedings, for he wtis bom with all his teeth, and hair to his shoulders."f Sir Thomas More also tells us that he came into the ^vorld "with his feet forward," and also " not untoothed."J To sum up, in fact, his assumed imperfections in a single sentence, — "Of body he was but low, crooked-backed, hook- shouldered, splay-footed, and goggle-eyed ; his face little and round, his complexion swarthy, his left arm from his birth dry and withered ; born a monster in nature, with all liis teeth, with hair on his head, and nails on his fingers and toes : and just such were the quahties of his mind."§ Such are the deformities of body and mind which ignorance and prejudice formerly dehghted to attribute to Richard of Gloucester. Let us turn, however, to tlie pages of contemporary writers, more than one of wliom were not only familiar with the pereon of Eichard, but had actually conversed with him, and we shall discover no evidence wliatever to corroborate the distorted and ridiculous pictures dra-\vii of him by the chroniclers who wrote under the Tudor dviiasty. Neither the continuator of the chronicle of Croyland, nor WUham of "\\";^Tccstcr, nor Abbot "NMiethamstede, nor the author of the Floetwood chronicle makes allusion to any deformity in tlic person of Eichard of Gloucester. Eous, another contemporary, bitterly prejuiliced as he is against Eichard, contents himself with averring that lie was small of stature, having a short face i\ud uneven • King Henry VI. I'lUl 111. Act v. Se. P. ■f ('iiiiicK'h'm U'i'iiiiiins, p. ,'i,'i.'i. j Sir T. Rliii-e's IJieliiinl 111. p. 8. § JJiiker's Chronicles i>l' the Kiug.s of England, p. 234. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 73 imself denied all opportunity of preferring his suit, chap. lut Anne suddenly and mysteriously disappeared from -- / . ■ be halls of Clarence. Powerful as Gloucester's position ■^^'^^■ vas in the State, high too as he stood in favour with lis brother Edward, the probabihty seems to be that he khig was on the point of adopting stringent neasures to secure him the hand of Anne NeviUe, vhen Clarence, in order to counteract their intentions, ' caused the damsel to be concealed." * It would be nteresting to be able to foUow Eichard in the search vhich he instituted to discover the lady of his love. Duly the romantic fact, however, has been handed down ;o lis, that when at length he traced her to her place )f concealment, he found the heiress of the Nevilles md of the Beauchamps, the affianced of a Prince of fVales, and the cousin of the reigning sovereign, in an )bscure street in London, disguised in the garb of a dtchen-maid. By those who have been taught to regard Richard of Gloucester as the deformed monster and cold- slooded miscreant which history has usually painted aim, it might naturally be imagined that in assuming the ^arb and submitting to the drudgery of a serving- RToman, the object of Anne Neville was to escape from the hateful importunities of a man whom she beheved to have been her husband's assassin. On the contrary, she seems to have placed herself, without any hesita- tion, under the protection of Eichard, who, in the first instance, removed her to the sanctuary of St. Martin's- le-Grand, from whence she was afterwards transferred to the guardianship of her uncle, George Neville, Arch- bishop of Tork. In the mean time Gloucester made successful suit to the king for her hand. The date of his marriage to the Lady Anne is uncertain, but as she bore him a child in 1473 f, the probabihty is that they * Croyl. Chron. Cont. p. 469. ■f Speed's ' Hist, of Great Britain, p. 726 ; Sandford's Geneal. Hist, book V. p. 410. 78 KINO KICHARD THE THIED. CHAP, had diinccd witli Eichard, declared to more than one II • — — ^ — - of her contemporaries that he was the handsomest ^^^^- man in the room, except hLs brother Edward, and very well made.* Our own impression is, that though his stature was low he was not misshapen ; that though his figure was shght it was compact and muscular ; and that, though not exactly handsome, his countenance was far from being unprepossessing, f It seems to have been shortly after his marriage with Anne Neville that Eichard quitted the voluptuous court of his brother Edward, for the purpose of discharging his important duties as chief seneschal of the duchy of Lancaster, and superintending liis princely estates in the north of England. Some notion may be formed of the vastness of his territorial possessions in the north, when we mention that, in addition to the castle and domain of Sheriff-Hutton, he now held the castle and manor of Middleham, another magnificent abode of the great Earl of Warwick, as well as the noble castle, manor, and demesnes of Skipton, in the deanery of Craven, which had been seized by the crown on the death of John Lord Clifibrd at the battle of Towton. Of these Middle- ham appears to have been his favourite residence Hei-e, in his boyhood, he had first gazed upon the fair face of Anne Neville, and here, in 1473, she presented him Avith the only child which she is known to have borne him, Edward, afterwai'ds Prince of Wales. It w;u<. how- ever, at Pomfret or Pontefi-aot Castle, at that time one of the most magnificent baronial rosidonccs in England, * Soc Appendix A. f Lord Orford is of opinion tlml what Rous tolls lis of Eichard having had unequal shouldi-rs is tho truth, but tlial, with tliis ex- ception, tlie king had no personal deformity. '' The truth I take 111 liMve been lliis. Kieliard, who \v:is .slender and not tall, had one Hhoulder ii lillle liiglirr llian the other; a delect, by tlie magnifying kI.imhc'm of jMirly, by disi.inee of time, and by the amplification of Iriiililioii, cisily swelled into shocking deformity." — Historic Doubts, Lord Orlimra Works, vol. ii. p. IGG. KING RICHAKD THE THIRD. 73 lamard Castle, m the county of Durham.* The only chap. liferer by the transaction was the illustrious widow . ~^^''^. f the Kingmaker, — the sole heiress and mistress 1472. f the magnificent estates of the Beauchamps, Earls f Warwick, — who was thus left dependent and almost enniless.f And when Eichard of Gloucester played the lover, ras he in reahty the deformed, crooked, repulsive eing, such as he is described in the prejudiced pages f the Lancastrian chroniclers and in the immortal ramas of Shakspeare ? According to Sir Thomas More, e was " httle of stature, ill-featured of hmbs, crook- acked, his left shoulder much higher than his right, nd hard-featured of visage." J Hall and Speed draw n exactly similar picture of Eichard. § Hohnshed also escribes him as " small and httle of stature," his body greatly, deformed," his "countenance cruel," and savouring of malice, fraud, and deceit. ")| His very irth is described as having been a monstrous and nnatural one. According to one writer, his mother, le Duchess of York, was two years pregnant of him ; nd when at length she gave birth to him, she suffered itolerable anguish.^ HaU tells us that he came into le world " feet forward." " At his nativity," says the bronicler Eous, " the scorpion was in the ascendant ; e came into the world with teeth, and with a head of air reaching to his shoulders."** " For I have often heard my mother say I came into the world with my legs forward : Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste * Surtees' Hist, of Durham, vol. iv. p. 66. f Croy. Chron. Cont. p. 470. J Sir T. More's King Eichard HI. p. 8. § Hall's Chronicle, p. 342 ; Speed, p. 694. II Holinshed's Chronicle, vol. iii. p. 447. t Eossi Hist. Eeg. Ang. p. 215 ; More, ut supra, p. 8. ** EosBi Hist. p. 215. 80 KINa RICIIABD THE THIRD. CHAP, rain came on, to the great vexation of the French _i!__ lords, who had dressed tliemselves and their horses in l"l'^- their richest habiliments, in honour to King Edward."* The conference terniiniited by the Enghsh monarch gua- ranteeing to witlidniw his splendid army from France, on condition of receiving an earnest of 7.5,000 crowns and an annual tribute of 50,000 crowns. The ministers and favourites of King Edward also came in for their share of French gold. Lord Howard, Ijesides a peasion, received 24,000 crowns in money and plate ; Lord Hastings was awarded 1000 marks in plate, and a pen- sion of 2000 crowns a year. Even the Lord Chancellor and the Master of the Eolls made no scruple of receiving French gold. " The king," writes Monstrelet, " made very liberal presents to all the courtiers of Edward, and to the heralds and trumpets, who made great rejoicings for the same, crying out, — ' Largesse au tres noble el jiiii.ssdut rot dc France ! Largesse, largesse .' ' " •}* In the time of Philip de Commines, the receipts given by the Enghsh nobles for their pensions and bi'ibes were still to be seen in the chamber of accounts. Hastings alone refused to give any written aclcnowledgment for Avhat he had received. " If you wnsh me to take it," he said, "you may put it into my sleeve." J Thus was concluded the treaty of Picquigny, a treaty most disgraceful to both liionarclis. Eichaixl of Glou- cester alone, of all the generals and ministers of Eilward, refused to barter the honoiu' of his country for gold. He even refused to be ]iresent at the meeting of the two kings at Picquigny.'^ After dehanoc sent, and a ciown challenged, " what," ho said, " woidd the world think of the wisdom and courage of Kugltmd, that could cross the seas with so noble and oxpensivo an * MdnMliclrl's (^tironiolos, vol. iv. p. .'i.'il. \ Ibid. pp. ,'l,'il', .■!,■).">. if 1*1' C'liiiuniiU'H, lomc li. pp. 1(!7, \C>'). \ § ]l>iil. loiiH' i. p. .'>77. KmU EICHAED THE THIRD. 77 loulders, tke left being lower than the right. But chap: ;^en Eous seems to admit that his comitenance was not , 1^ Lsagreeable.* His face is said to have borne a resem- 1472. lance to that of his late father the Duke of York, a ircumstance which was afterwards alluded to by Dr. haw from the pulpit at Paul's Cross before a large con- ourse of people, when Eichard was himself present, according to the reverend doctor, Eichard stood before lem " the special pattern of knightly prowess, as reU in aU princely behaviour as ia the lineaments and ivour of his visage, representing the very face of the oble duke his father, "f Had Eichard been the " hard- isaged," " goggle-eyed," " cruel-countenanced " being e has been described, the crowd would have rephed D the idle flattery with a shout of derision. Philip de JommineSjWho must often have seenEichard in company dth his brother Edward, twice speaks of the latter as the lost beautiful prince he had ever seen. J Surely, there- 3re, if there had existed any remarkable contrast in the ersonal appearance of the two brothers, it would have leen pointed out by the gossiping and free-spoken his- Drian. Again, Stow, who was inquisitive and curious 1 regard to the habits and persons of princes, though e seems to have made dihgent inquiries among " ancient len" who had seen and remembered Eichard of Glou- ester, could arrive at no other conclusion than that he ras " of bodily shape comely enough, only of low sta- xre." § Lastly, the " old Countess of Desmond," who * EoTis's expression is, " ut Scorpio vultu blandiens, cauda pun- ens, sio et ipse ounctis se ostendit." — Hist. Beg. Ang. p. 215. f Holinshed, vol. iii. p. 389 ; Buck in Kennet, vol. i. p. 548. . X M^moires, vol. i. pp. 239, 374. § Survey of London Life prefixed to vol. i. p. xviii. ; and Buck I Kennet, vol. i. p. 548. " This prince," says Hume, "was of a nail stature, hump-backed, and had a harsh, disagreeable coun- snance." — Hist, of Engl. vol. iii. p. 288. According to a more iligent inquirer than Hume, " his face was handsome." — Sharon 'urner's Middle Ages, vol. iii. p. 443. 82 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, him with fratricide, but represents him as carrying the - "■ death-warrant to tlie Tower, and urging the miurderers ^ '' '^ ^ ■ to despatch : — " Sirs, bo sudden in the execution, Withal obdurate ; do not hear him plead ; For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps. May move your hearts to pity if you mark him." • Before arraigning a suspected person of crime, we should in tlie first instance look for the motive. It may be argued, in the present case, that Gloucester's motives for getting rid of an elder brother were suffi- ciently strong and apparent ; viz. that he was unscrupu- lously bent on obtaining possession of the crown ; that Clarence not only stood individually in the way of his ambition, but that, had he lived, he would probably have begot nimierous heirs to the crown ; and, lastly, that, as Clarence's only son, the infant Earl of Warwick, was included in the attainder of his father, Richard, by one stroke of cruel policy, hoped to effect the removal of two persons who opposed themselves to the reaUza- tion of his ambitious hopes. But of what use is it to imagine a motive, unless the guilt be also substantiated by evidence ? In the present case, not only does no such evidence seem to be forth- coming, but such evidence as exists appears to be in favour of Ricliard's innocence. For instance, two of the most bigoted of the Tudor chroniclei-s, Hall and Holin- shed, not only are silent on the charge of his having been the instigator of his brother's deatli, but admit diat he impugned the rigcMU- of tlie sentence passed upon Clarence. Again, had that mihappy prince been sent to execution by the individual liat of liis brother I'Mward, it miglil, with some shadow of argument, be reasoned thai (iloiiccstiT was tlio king's secret adviser on the o(<'nsi(in. >^o far, liowever, fi'om Clarence * King Ixiihnnl III. Aol i. So. ."). KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 79 at Eichard principally held his court. Here, invested chap. Lth almost regal powers, and Hving in almost regal . — ;. — lendour, he continued for the next few years to dis- 1^75. large with justice and vigour the high duties in- usted to him ; winning for himself the golden opinions • men by his charities, his condescension and inflexible :obity, and at the same time firmly attaching the 3ople of the north to the government of his brother dward. Thus high stood the character, and thus impeachable was the conduct, of Eichard Duke of loucester, at the age of twenty-two. It was in the month of June 1475 that Edward IV., irrying with him, besides a large force of infantry, Fteen thousand mounted archers, and attended by le flower of his nobihty, sailed from Sandwich for le purpose of claiming the crown of France. De ommines teUs us that no Idng of England had ever vaded France at the head of so splendid an army.* ichard of Gloucester followed the banner of his chival- )us brother, and landed at Calais by his side. The ory of that imsatisfactory expedition, and of the dis- raceful treaty by which it was followed, may be related L a few words. The challenge, which Edward sent to ouis XL to resign the crown of France, was answered y civilities ; his threats were responded to by bribes. ventuaUy the two monarchs met personally, and ex- langed courtesies, on a bridge over the Somme at Lcquigny, between Calais and Amiens. Across the ddge was erected a rail or trellis of woodwork, in hich interstices were contrived of sufiicient size only > admit of one monarch taking the hand of the other, lose to the bridge were posted twenty-two Enghsh ncemen, who kept guard so long as their master re- lained in conference with the French king. "During lis time," writes Monstrelet, "a very heavy fall of * Mdmoires, tome i. p. 336. 1177. 84 KING RICnARD THE THIRD. c;iiAP. himself was the most interested in getting rid of Cla- rence. Not only was Clarence obnoxious to him oe account of his former and successful rebeUion, but the Idng had still every reason to dread him as a popular idol, a turbulent subject, and an irreclaimable traitor. Accordingly, we not only find Edward standing per- sonally forward as his brother's accu.'-cr, but actually pleading against him in the House of Lords. In that " sad strife," writes the Croyland continuator, " not a single person uttered a word against the duke except the king ; not one individual made answer to the king except the duke."* But Clarence had been guilty of two other offences, neither of which Edward was likely to forgive. In the first place, Clarence had openly disputed his brother's legitimacy, on the ground of their mother's incontinencyf ; and, in the next place, the act of parhament which had declared Edward to be a usurper, and had settled the crown on Clarence and his descendants after the demise of Edward, son of Henry VI., was stiU unrepealed. Considering, there- fore, how unpardonable were those offences, and how jealous and vindictive was the king's disposition, we may perhaps not be very uncharitable in assuming that it required no extraordinary persuasions, from any per- son whatever, to induce Edward to consent to liis brother's death.J • Croyl. Chron. Cont. p. 479. t Rot. Pai-I. vol. vi. p. 101. J It may be mentioned that one of the first steps taken by Edward after his brother's execution was to obl.ain a rejiojvl of the obnoxious acts of parliament which had boon passed during AVarwick's usurpa- tion; viz. "the pretenscd lOth yoar ofllio roign of King Henry VI." Up to the date of Iheir repeal, the yo\uig Karl of AVarwick, as heir to ihn laic Duke of (-l.arencc, was de jure King of England. Rot. I'itrl. vol. vi. p. 191. II. uttT KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 81 spedition, and then return without drawing a sword? " * chap. Iven Lord Bacon, prejudiced as he is against Eichard f Gloucester, has done justice to his patriotism and dis- iterestedness. "As upon all other occasions," he writes, Eichard, then Duke of Gloucester, stood upon the side f honour, raising liis own reputation to the disadvan- ige of the king his brother, and drawing the eyes of U, especially of the nobles and soldiers, upon himself "f The next events of importance connected with the tory of the Duke of Gloucester, were the trial and ex- cution of his fickle and intriguing brother, the Duke of )larence. Dehghting to imphcate the young prince 1 almost every crime and every tragical event which ccurred during his eventful career, the Tudor historians, s usual, overlook the cruel and vindictive character of ]dward IV., and confidently attribute his having signed tie death-warrant of his brother to the intrigues and ersuasions of Gloucester. No man, according to Lord 5acon, " thought any ignominy or contumely unworthy f him who had been the executioner of King Henry VL idth his own hands, and the contriver of the death of lie Duke of Clarence, his brother." J Sir Thomas iore, another of his accusers, aggravates his pre- umed offence by taxing him with the grossest hypo- risy. " Some wise men," he writes, " ween that his rift, covertly conveyed, lacked not in helping forth his rother of Clarence to his death ; which he resisted penly."^ "After Clarence," writes a later historian, had offered his mass-penny in the Tower of London, e was drowned in a butt of malmsey; his brother, the )uke of Gloucester, assisting thereat with his own iroper hands." || Lastly, Shakspeare not only charges * Habington in Kermet, vol. i. p. 465. ■f Bacon's Life of Henry VII. in Kennet, vol. i. p. 578. i Ibid. § Sir T. More's Eichard III. p. 10. II Sandford's Geneal. Hist, book v. p. 438. G 80 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, accompanied him on his march, he saved the town and _^"_^ inhabitants from fire and sword. "His entry," says ^^^'*- Habington, " was oidy a spectacle of glory, the people applauding the mercy of an enemy who presented them with a triumph, not a battle."* At the same time he displayed a determination which completely overawed the Scottish people ; causing it to be proclaimed by sound of trumpet, in the difierent quarters of the city, that, unless the demands of the King of England were complied with before the month of September, he would lay waste the whole kingdom with fire and sword This threat produced the desired effect. Trembling at the prospect of the disasters which threatened their country, the Scottish nobles sent to him to entreat a suspension of arms. Subsequently a treaty was executed, by one of the articles of which Berwick Castle was dehvered Aug. 3. lip ti) the English. Having thus achieved the objects of his expedition, the young duke returned to his own country, to receive the thanks of parliament and the applause of his fellow-coimtrymen. On the 9th of April 1483, in the forty-second year of his age, died the victor of nine pitched battles, King Edward IV. Vahant almost to rashness, beautifiil in person f , majestic in stature, and dangerously fascinating in his manners and address, he united with his outward accompUshments qualities of a higher ordei", which ought to have rendered his name illustrious. Unfortu- nately, howe\er, the only atmosphere which he loved was that of pleasure ; the only deity which he ■wor- shipped was female beauty. " His tlioughts," ssip De Conunines, " were idways occupied A\-ith the ladies, with hunting, and with th-ess. ^^■hen he himted, liis cus- • IlMbington in Koniiot, vol. i. p. ITO. •f I'liili]) di' ('(iinniiiu's, wlio liiul iiioiv Uinn once conversed with I'Mwiinl, NpcnUM of liiiii on oiio oi'CMsioii lis llio handsomest prince, mid on iinodici' (n'cnsion lis llir hiiniisoiiu'st man, whom he had ever ; riMl. Millioilo.'* ill' I'oniiuiiics, Vol. 1. pp. 23'.), 374. I KING EICHAED THE THIRD. 83 Lving been sent to his last account by this summary chap. ■ocess, it is an historical fact that he was not only . — ;- — iblicly tried and condemned by the highest tribunal ^'^^T- the reahn, the House of Lords, but, moreover, in Jan. i6. heinous a hght were his treasonable practices re- irded, that the House of Commons, with the Speaker their head, appeared at the bar of the Lords and ■essed for his execution.* Certainly, had Eichard railed himself of his privilege as a peer, and sat id voted at Clarence's trial, presumptive evidence ould have been afforded that he desired his brother's 3ath. But not only is there no evidence of his iving sat at that tribunal, but, on the contrary, lere is much more reason for arriving at the con- usion that, at the time of Clarence's trial and exe- ition, Eichard was quietly discharging the duties of Ls government in the north of England.f It has been asserted, that it was with much unwU- iigness that Edward signed the death-warrant of Cla- ;nce ; and, chiefly on this ground, it has been assumed lat Eichard must have taken upon himself the dia- ohcal office of arresting the hand of mercy. But, ipposing that King Edward really displayed such iruples, and that those scruples were sincere, were there at other persons, who were interested quite as much 5 Gloucester, in endeavouring to stifle them ? By the iieen and her ambitious and grasping kindred, Clarence ad been long held in fear and detestation. Eivers, more ipecially, envied him his princely estates, the greater ortion of which were actually conferred upon him by le king after the death of Clarence. The latter, Loreover, had been the rival of Eivers for the hand of le heiress of Burgundy. J But, of all men, the king * Croyl. Chron. Cont. p. 480. t Halsted'a Life of Richard HI. vol. i. p. 331. % Polydore Virgil, lib. xxiv. p. 681; Speed, p. 689; Hall, p. 326; (fmer's Fosdera, vol. xii. p. 95. G 2 88 KINO lUCHABD THE THIRD. CHAP, inevitably induced a violent struggle for the possession ■ . •^"- , of the sovereijj;u autliority, the premature death of King 1488. Edward could scarcely fail to be productive of renewed misfortimes and bloodshed to his country, as well as of peril to his children. Eighty years later we find the celebrated John Knox propounding from the pul- pit at Edinburgh, in the very presence of the husband of his queen, that God occasionally sets boys and women over a nation to punish it for its crimes. The dangers and inconveniences to be apprehended fi-om the rule of women and minors was the excuse which the Duke of Buckingham subsequently made when he preferred Kichard of Gloucester to be his king instead of his legitimate sovereign Edward V. It was perhaps the best excuse which coidd be made for Eichard when he deposed his nephew ; perhaps the only excuse for the bishops and mitred abbots who abetted and sanctioned his usurpation. Fortunately for Edward, he had the satisfaction, at the close of his days, of flattering himself that he had recon- ciled hatred and envy to one another, and the convic- tion, vain as it was, soothed him at the last. His death became him better than his Ufe. The closing days of his existence were spent in tender endeavoui-s to secure the future happiness and welfare of his children, in devising means for repairing the injuries whicli he had inflicted on his subjects, and in humble and penitent attempts to render himsehf less uuwortliy of appearing in the presence of his Creator. The death of his brother Edwaixl naturally eflected an extraordinary I'evolutiou in the position and fortunes of Kichard of Gloucester. It at once opened to him a career in which, by his masterly tidents, he was well (pialilied to ]ilay a prominent {>art, whether i'di- good or for evil. To I'very reiieeting and well- iiifoiined ])eison in hjiglaiuh a civil war at this period niiisl have appealed ahiiosi inevitable. One indi- S5 CHAP. m. 'HE EISE TO GEEATNESS OP EICHAED OF GLOUCESTEE. 3 keeper of the Northern Marches, the Duke of Glou- chap. ster held for some years the most important military ■_".^' mmand in England. It was not, however, till the 1^^^- !ar 1482, when war broke out between Edward of agland and James III. of Scotland, that Eichard was ;aan afforded an opportunity of displaying that mili- ry abihty of which, in his boyhood, he had given ch high promise at Barnet and Tewkesbury. Having solved on the invasion of Scotland, Edward intrusted e entire command of his army, consisting of 25,000 en, to his brother Gloucester. Henry Earl of Nor- umberland led the van ; Thomas Lord Stanley com- anded the rear. The expedition appears to have been nducted with great abihty, and proved to be eminently ccessful. Gloucester's first attempt was upon Ber- ick, which city he entered without opposition. The stle, however, proved to be strong enough to maintain protracted siege, and accordingly, leaving Lord Stan- f to besiege it with a force of 4000 men, Eichard Lshed forward into the heart of Scotland with the mainder of his army. In the mean time, unpre- ,red for so rapid an advance as that of Gloucester, ing James had shut himself up in Edinburgh Castle. is only hope was in his warhke barons, who, disgusted th the conduct of their unworthy sovereign, withdrew eir aid from him in his hour of need. Gloucester IS thus enabled to enter Edinburgh in triumph. At e earnest entreaty of the Duke of Albany, who G 3 90 KINO RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, clue partiality which he had displayed, began to fiU his ^^^: . mind with painful ap])rehen8ions. His children, he felt, 1183. might be sacrificed to the rage of faction ; his first-born might be robbed of his inheritance. It was to the credit of Edward that he had not only ever shown himself a most afiectionate father, but, even in his worst days of indolence and sensuality, he had manifested a deep interest in the spiritual as well as temporal wel&re of his offspring.* No time was now to be lost in remedying the imprudence of the past ; and accord- ingly, having summoned to his sick-chamber the leaders of the rival factions, the dying monarch in the most solemn manner exhorted them, for the sake of the love which they bore him, and the loyalty which they owed to his son, to forget their mutual ani- mosities, and to unite in one endeavour to secure the tranquillity and weU-being of the State. " And there- withal," writes Sir Thomas More, " the king, no longer enduring to sit up, laid him down on his right side, liis face toward them ; and none was there present that could refrain from weeping. "•{■ Thus solemnly appealed to, the rival leaders were induced to embrace each other, and an ostensible reconciliation took place. But the ancient families of England had far too much cause to be offended and disgusted with the upstart Woodxalles to admit of its being a lasting one. The grasping and inordinate ambition of the queen's kindi'ed, their rapid and pro- voking rise from the position of simple esquires aud gentlewomen to the iiossession of the proudest honours of the peerage, as well as the grooihnoss wliicli they • Slinron Turn(>v has pviblisliod. fi-om n J[S. in the British IMuHciiiii, a I'liiU' (if iiislnii'lioiis drawn iiji by King Edwiird for the gniiliinii' of liin wm's stuihcs and lU'votions ; ft doenmciit, scnrcely nidiij lull rcsling UN evincing tho intcrosl wliioh the king took in his Hon'H wolliiic, Ihiiu IIS iill'onling ft ourioii.s jiicluro of the habits and iimliiniH nP llio aye. Hist, nf tlio Middle Ages, vol. iii. p. 342. t Sir T Moii.'h Kiohanl III. ^,. 17 III. KING EICHAED THE THIRD. 87 om was to have several tents set up for the ladies, chap. ?hom he entertained in a magnificent manner."* The nervating delights of the banquet, the pursuit of a new oistress, or the invention of some fashion in dress more p:acefal or more magnificent than the last, constituted he daily and nightly occupations of the Enghsh Sar- lanapalus. The fascination which he exercised over vomen may be exemplified by an amusing anecdote ■elated by Holinshed. At a time when his pecuniary lifficulties compelled him to exact money from his lubjects under the name of benevolences, he sent, imong other persons, for a wealthy widow, of whom he nquired, with a smile, how much she would subscribe towards the prosecution of the war. Charmed by his ^race and beauty, — " Eor thy sweet face," said the Did lady, " thou shalt have twenty pounds." As this was double the amount which the young king had ex- aected to obtain from her, he accompanied his thanks dj a kiss. This act of royal condescension was irresis- ible. Instead of twenty pounds, the dehghted matron promised him forty.f Vigorous as was Edward's constitution, it gradually yielded to the inroads occasioned by his exceeding in- iulgence in the pleasures of the table, and the fre- quency of his amours. The personal beauty, for which he had been so conspicuous, passed away, and, though not " seized by any known kind of malady," J it became evident for some time before his death that he was gradually sinking into his grave. Had his days been providentially prolonged tiU his son, the Prince of Wales, had attained his majority, his subjects, per- haps, would have had httle reason to regret the royal voluptuary. But at that turbulent period of our his- tory, when the rule of a woman or of a minor almost * De Commines, tome i. p. 246, tome ii. p. 281. ■f Holinshed's Chronicles, vol. iii. p. 330. I Croyl. Chron. Cont. p. 483. G 4 92 KING RICHAED THE THIED. CHAP, reusoiis the kttcr was the object of the greatest jea- ^^^■^. lousy and dislike. Preferring him above the proudest 1-183. barons of the realm, King Edward had sought to obtain for him the hand of Margaret, sister of the King of Scotland, and on another occasion had sanctioned his coming forward as the rival of the king's brother, the Duke of Clarence, for the hand of the heiress of Burgundy. These were unpardonable offences in the eyes of the old nobUity. But the barons had not only reason to be jealous of, but also to fear, the power of the Woodvilles. To obtain the guardianship of the young king, — to estabhsh a complete ascendency over his mind, — and by this means to carry out their project of completely crushing the ancient nobility, and obtain- ing for themselves a monopoly over the highest honours and offices of the State, — were only too obviously the pohcy and the intention of the queen and her kindi-ed. We have already mentioned that the queen was the main stay of the Woodville faction ; the Duke of Buckingham the head of the rival party. But there were two other influential persons, who may be said to have belonged to neither party, who, from their high rank, their integrity, their abiUty, and experience in the affairs of state, were natm-ally looked up to and courted by both of the opposing factions. Those persons were the celebrated WilUam Lord Hastings, and Thomas Lord Stanley. The former, uniting the brilhaut qua- lities of the warrior with the Avisdom of the states- man and the accomphshments of tlio courtier, had for many years been the chosen and beloved com- panion of the late king. lie had fought by the side of his royal master on many a field of battle ; had e.lieerfully accompanied him when he was compelled to lly lo the TiOW Coimlries; and, no less fascinating at the l)aiH|uet than renowned on the field of battle, was ;ilil<()liis adviser in tlie closi-t, the sharer of his pleasures, and the confidant of his amours. The character of Lord KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 89 iual only there was who, from his exalted rank, chap. ■ his high reputation as a statesman and a soldier, — -_ , ' _. 3 independence of faction, — the friendly terms on. 1483. lich he had ever associated with men of all parties, — 3 profound knowledge of human character and of the atives of human action, as well as his singular power concealing his own thoughts and feehngs from the cuthiy of others, — was capable of grapphng with ery emergency, and of thus preserving his country )m the horrors of civil war. That man was Eichard ike of Gloucester. At the time when King Edward breathed his last, e-two great opposing parties in the State consisted, I the one hand, of the WoodvOle faction, supported ^ the authority and influence of the queen, and, on e other, of the ancient nobility, at the head of whom is a prince of the house of Lancaster, Henry Stafford, ike of Buckingham. The queen, during the hfetime her husband, had pursued a policy, the wisdom of lich was now about to be put to the test. Eager to aintain her influence over him so long as he hved, d, ia the event of his death, to rule in the name of r son, she had warmly and successfully advocated e principle of curbing the dangerous power of the i nobility by the creation of a new aristocracy. Men d been advanced to the peerage who had httle pre- ision to the honour; the ancient nobiUty may be id to have been banished from court. The queen 3re especially dehghted to surround herself with her ra. friends and her own kindred. This invidious and short-sighted pohcy naturally reatened to be productive of future evil. So long, ieed, as Edward continued in the fulness and splen- ur of his power, he had found httle difficulty in pre- ating open contentions between the queen's faction d the irritated barons. But, as his end approached, 3 fatal consequences, which might result from the un- 94 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, nephew. That such was not only the conscientious —^ — ■ opinion of Buckingham and Hastings, but the general 1483. conviction of the jieople of England, there seems to be httlo doubt. Eichard, in fact, as the only prince of the house of Plantagenet who had attained the age of man- hood, and as the paternal uncle of the youthful mon- arch, was doubtless, according to precedent, the proper person to be invested with the regency. King Edward, moreover, in his last moments, had shown how great was the sense which he entertained of liis brother's in- tegrity, by nominating him the guardian of his sons.* And what, may be asked, was at this period the true character of Eichard of Gloucester ? Are we to regard him in the Hght in which the Tudor chroniclers have painted him, — as not only the convicted perpetrator of past murders, but as the deliberate and cold-blooded projector of futiore and still more atrocious crimes? Can it be true that from his boyhood he had been secretly the ambitious plotter, — that he was in reality the wily and unscrupulous villain such as history usually represents Mm ? Can it be true that liis vutues were but a name, and his good actions but cloaks for dis- simulation and hypocrisy ? In a word, are we to beheve that he had been lying in wait but till the breath should have quitted the body of his brother ' Edward, in order to spring upon his remaining victims, and, by means of the most crooked and barbarous pohcy, seize the crown which was the birthright of another? Certainly, there is much of this sweeping obloquy of which we are inchncd td relio^"o tlio memory of this extraordinary prince. Had Kioliard, in fact, been even the suspected, much loss the couvictod. villain whicli our early historians represent him to have been, is it probable that he would have been trusted to the last by men who wt're not only pei-sonally and intimately • I'dlyddi-c Viryil, ji. 171, Ciiiuil. Sen-. Trans. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 91 ad manifested in seeking to monopolize the highest chap. Bfices in the State and the wealthiest heiresses ia the . ^^ md, were offences ia the eyes of the old feudal nobihty 1*83. rhich could be expiated only by their degradation or leir blood. Through the queen's influence with her usband, her brother, Anthony Woodville, had mar- ied Elizabeth, the wealthy heiress of Thomas Lord cales. Her younger brother John had married the owager Duchess of Norfolk, — the union of a youth of ineteen to a woman in her eightieth year. Thomas rrey, the queen's son by her former husband, had larried the king's niece Anne, daughter and heiress of lenry Duke of Exeter. Of the queen's six sisters, five iere severally married to the Duke of Buckingham, to he Earls of Arundel, Essex, Huntingdon, and Lord itrange of EJiokyn. The rapacity of the queen's kin- xed had already fomented a formidable rebellion in Cngland, in which her father, recently created Earl livers, and her brother John, lost their heads.* In- tead, however, of taking warning from the past, they )ersisted iti provoking an hostihty which effected the . hange of a dynasty and involved the ruin of their lOuse. Of the queen's obnoxious relatives, the two highest 1 power and place, at this period, were Thomas Grey, iarquis of Dorset, the queen's son by her first husband, ir John Grey ; and her splendid and accompHshed rother, Anthony WoodviUe, Earl Eivers. For many * The insurrection, teaded by Eobin of Eedesdale, in 1469. The ibstance of the grievances of which the insurgents complained, as, " that the king had been too lavish of gifts to the queen's relations id some others ; that through them he had spent church monies, ithout repayment; that they had caused him. to diminish his Dusehold and charge the commons with great impositions; that ley would not suffer the king's laws to be executed but through lem ; and that they had caused him to estrange the true lords of s blood from his secret council.". — Harl. MS. No. 543, quoted . S. Turner's Middle Ages, vol. iii. p. 254. 86 KINO KICIIARD THE THIRD. CHAP, others against his governmerit and person, and the — r- — • dangerous possession of U83. " a power too great to keep or to resign," — added, no doubt, to his natural and insatiable ambition, and the dazzling temptation of a crown, — had each their share in inducing him to consult his own safety by the destruction of others, and to grasp the gUttering prize which was placed within his reach. That, from the moment in which he aspired to the protectorship, he brought into play those powers of deception and dissimulation of which he was so finished a master, there seems to be no question. It was not, however, we conceive, till a later period, that he devised and committed those blacker acts of blood and treachery which, after a lapse of two years, were avenged by his tragical death on the field of Bosworth. To us Eichard figures, at two different periods of his life, as a different and distinct person. As much as the Diana of the Greeks differed from the Astarte of the Carthaginians, and as the Satan of Milton differs from the cloven-footed bugbear of the nursery, so great does the distinction appear to have been between the youthful and upi-ight prince who dispensed even justice at Poutefi-act and spurned the gold of King Louis at Picquiguy, and the Eichard who subsequently became the muixierer of his nephews and the guilty possessor of a crown.* Of the abihty of Eichai-d of Gloucester there can be no more question than there is of the intensity of Ms * Had Richard's designs upon the throne been entertained at so crirly a period as has usually boon imagined, surely he would have liiiHli'iu'd to London, eillu'v during his brother's last illness or else immcdiiilciy aftor his iloiH\nso, for the purpose of counteracting the iTic.'iHinc'H (if his o|)p(inents, coiivting the sutiVnges of the citizens of Liiiidon, and nllii'rwisi' iulviim'iug his cinls. Kdwiird, however, died on Ihe Ulli of April, wluMins KiiJmrd remnined in the north till tlie end (>r llii" luiuilli, nnd did not ronch London till the -Ith of May. KING EICHARU THE THIRD. 93 anley was more reserved, and his nature more cold chap. an that of Hastings. Nevertheless, though Edward . ^ )parently loved him less than he loved Hastings, he 1^^^- lems to have been no less trusted and esteemed by le late king. Both of these powerful noblemen were rongly prejudiced against the queen and her kindred, id were therefore hkely to join in any constitutional aposition which might be formed for depriving them of le management of affairs. But, on the other hand, ley had been personally and devotedly attached to dward ; they had solemnly sworn to him to maintain le rights and interests of his heir ; and, accordingly, ot only were they hkely to prove formidable anta- omsts in the event of any attempt made to put aside le youthful heir of the house of York, but there can g httle doubt that, had the alternative been forced pon them, they would have preferred perishing on the ;affold rather than have failed in their loyalty to the ving and their promises to the dead. At such a crisis it was natural that the thoughts, not aly of the two rival factions, but of aU moderate men, lould turn with anxiety to Eichard of Gloucester. Is character for wisdom and valour was estabhshed eyond all question. No man hving was more interested L averting the horrors of civil war. As governor of le Northern Marches he was in command of the largest * lUitary force in England. Hitherto, with his usual rudence, Gloucester had abstained from identifying imseLf with either party ; both sides, therefore, were mguine of obtaining his countenance and support. .s for Eichard individually, all his prejudices were ituraUy on the side of the barons. Aware doubtless P this fact, Buckingham, shortly after the death of the ing, secretly despatched an express to him, intimating is want of confidence in the government of the queen, id expressing his conviction that he was the proper erson to rule the realm during the minority of his 98 KINO RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, a crown is so heinous as it appears at first sight. We ^^,'- , must remember tliiit the tluone of England was vir- I'l*^^' tually elective ; that the accession of the young in years, or the feeble in mind, was almost certain to provoke a contention for the kingly power ; that the king himself was but the head of the barons, and that, in troubled times, the most powerful of the barons looked upon the crown as a prize within the legitimate scope of his ambition. Assuming it to be true, that, from the time of his brother's decease, Eichard secretly aspired to invest himself with the kingly power, the obstacles against which he had to contend must, even to himself, have appeared almost insurmountable. The success which crowned his machinations was amazing. That he should have been able to overcome the powerftil Woodville faction, strengthened as it was by the authority of the queen, and by having possession of the king's person, — that he should have been able to crush the scarcely less powerful party of which Hastings and Stanley were the chiefs, — that he should have fomid the means of duping the people, and intimidatijig parlia- ment, mto an approval of his usmpation ; in a word, that within the short space of eleven weeks after his brother's death, he should have sat on the Idngly seat in "West- minster Hall, and have accomphshed tliis great object without occasioning a single popular tiunult or shedding a drop of plebeian blood, — certainly impresses us with a high opinion of his fearlessness tmd talents, whatever judgment we may form of his motives and his conduct. King Edward TV. was the fiither of two sons, the unfortunate Edward V., now in his tliirteenth year, and Eichiird Duke of York, in his eleventh year.* At the tinie of his falher's death, the young- king was residing • TIio fornior was born on the 1st of November 1170, tJie latter in 1 17-2. KING EICHARD THE THIED. 95 juainted with him, but who were also experienced chap. i keen-sighted observers of human character ? Is it . .^ / ely that so shrewd a prince as Edward IV. would in 1483. ; last moments have confided to him the guardian- p of his beloved children, — those children whom chard had only to put out of the way in order him- f to mount the throne ? Or, if Buckingham and istings had entertained any suspicion of his true aracter, would they have helped to invest him with authority which subsequently enabled him to shed iir blood on the scaffold, and to seize a crown which istings, at least, would have died to preserve for other ? That Eichard was deeply impregnated with that inor- late ambition which was the ruHng passion and vice the Plantagenets, — that he yielded to temptation so )n as the allurement became difScuIt to resist, — d, lastly, that he possessed himself of the sovereign wer by unjustifiable and unpardonable means, — 1 are not prepared to deny. At present, how- 3r, this is not the point at issue. The question "we )uld solve is, at what particular period of his hfe nptation grew too powerful to be resisted, and isequently diverted him from the path of virtue and nour to that of perfidy and crime. In our own inion, — which, however, with deference we submit, Eichard, to the close of Edward's reign, had con- ned to be a loyal subject, a devoted brother, a jful citizen, and an upright man. Even when the ath of Edward forced him into a more extended lere of action, the probability, we think, is that he ginally entertained no deeper design than that of taining the guardianship of the young king, and, ring his minority, the protectorship of the realm, t as he advanced, step by step, towards the ac- nplishment of these legitimate ends, the comphcated Bculties which encountered him, the plots laid by 102 lUNO riciiaud tub tiiied. ciTAr. Ciiv;ili'ii(le luul proceeded tis far as Northampton, when _.^"._. iut'oniuttiou h^ucIuhI lliverB and Grey that the Duke of ^^^'■^- Gloucester \v!is iipproaeliing with his retinue. Eivers took the precaution of Hendinj^f forward the young king to Stony Slratlord, u town thirteen rniles nearer to the nielropolis, while he liiiiiself remained behiud with Grey at Nortlianipton, with the ostensible object of ])ayiug their lespects to liiiliard as first piince of the blood, and submitting to his " ^vill and discretion " the ceremonials which they proposed to adopt on the occasion of the king's entry into his capital Disappointed as Gloucester must liave been at not meethig with his nephew, he nevertheless received April 29. Ei\ers and Grey with the greatest courtesy and appa- rent Idndness. He invited them to sup at lus table, and the evening, we are told, passed " in veiy pleasant con- versation." * Wliile they were thus agreeably em- ploj'ed, an addition was imexpet'tedly made to the party by the aiTival of a fourth person, Henry Duke of Buckingham, who, though he had married a sister of the queen, of all men most detested the WoodviUes. Tlie duke reached Northampton at the head of three hundi'ed horsemen, thus swelling the military train of Eichard to a rather formidable number. The news which he brought to Gloucester from comt was of the most serious importance. The queen and her kindi'cd had thrown off the mask ; her brother, the Marquis of Dorset, had seized tlie king's treasure, and, moreover, as admiral of England, liad gi\eu orders for the equip- ment of a naval force. The news was in all probability for from being unpalatable to Eiclnuxl. It was clear that the Woodv ilh's must hencelorth stand convicted of having been tlie first to break tlic laws, thus giving liira an advantage of which he instantly perceived the ini])()ilance. Iiuleed, bul for (his inqu'udent conduct * Ci-oyl. Clii-oii. Coul, p. iJSd. KING EICHAED THE THIED. 97 ibition or of the profoundness of his dissimulation, chap. s conduct, from the hour when greatness tempted . r^ — n, till the hour in which he achieved greatness, dis- ■'^^^^• lys a masterpiece of statecraft. True it is that his hey was tortuous and guilty; but it must be nembered that he had to deal with men as guilty d almost as wily as himself. Moreover, before iging him too severely, we should carefully con- Ler the character of the age in which he hved. It IS an age when men were inflamed against each ler by feehngs of the fiercest vindictiveness ; when iman hfe was held at a fearful discount, and when ception was regarded almost as an accomphshment. 3 Hved in the middle ages, when belted knights emed it a meritorious act to knock out the brains of iefenceless prelate at the altar ; in an age, when an bot went pubhcly forth with assassins to waylay and urder a brother abbot; and when a Duke of Bur- ndy suborned men of birth to assassinate a Duke of •leans in his presence.* Eichard, moreover, had hved raugh a war of extermination, unsurpassed perhaps in 3 annals of ferocious retahation. From his child- od, he had been conversant with proscriptions, with jodshed, and deceit. He had not only witnessed 3 cruelties perpetrated by his brother Edward, and Margaret of Anjou, — the wholesale slaughter of Dusands flying from the field of battle, and the hberate butchery of the noblest and the bravest on 3 scafibld, — but he had been accustomed to regard 3se atrocities as part of a necessary pohcy. More- er, it may be questioned whether his guilt in seizing * Even at a considerably later period, we find the Cardinal of rraine confidently charged with having poisoned the Cardinal i.nnagnac; and, again, Henry III. of France causing the Due de ise to be massacred before his face. As Henry gazed on the less but magnificent form which lay at his feet, " Mon Dieu," calmly said, " comme il est grand, e'tant mort ! " H 104 KINO RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, and Stony Strulford ; the keys of the hostelry were ^l!,^l_ brouglit to Ciloucester ; not a servant was allowed to 1183. q^j^ t,]^e place.* The coiistci-natioii of Itivois and Grey, on discovering the fatal siuire into wliii h they had fallen, may be readily imaghied. They did their best, however, to conceal their emotion, as together, and apparently in perfect amity, the four lords set off on horseback for Stony Stratford. It was not till that town appeared in sight that April 30. Gloucester threw off the mask. Suddenly Elvers and Grey were arrested by his orders and hunied off, under the charge of an escort, towards the north. Gloucester and Bucldugham then rushed forward to the king's quarters. With the utmost promptitude, the king's chamberlain, Sir Thomas Vauglian, his pre- ceptor, Dr. Alcock, Bishop of Worcester, and others of his trusted and confidential servants, wore arrested and hurried into confinement. Almost before the young king had time to slied a tear for the misfortune whieli had iK'fallen his nearest relatives and friends, Gloucester and Bucldngham, with every outwai'd mai-k of homage and affection, were kneehng at his feet. The separation from those he loved seems to have been bitterly felt by him. " At this dealing." says Sii' Thomas More, "he wept, and was nothing content; but it booted not." f Li due time, attended respectfully by the two dukes, the young king made his public entry into Loudon. May 4. His Servants and retinue were clad in deep moiu'uiiig. Edward alone appeared conspicuous in the cavalcade, habited in royal robes of purple velvet. By his side rode his uncle Gloucester, bareheaded. Near Hornsey they were met by the lord-mayor and aldermen in tlieir scarlet robes, followt'd by five hundred citizens on horschack, in ])uri)le-C(donred gowns. As the gallant * Sir 'V. Moiv's i;icliiinl III. p. 21. f I^''^^- P- '-7- KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 99 Ludlow Castle on the borders of Wales, under the )ecial guardianship of liis gallant and accomplished cle, Anthony Earl Eivers. The Duke of York was iiding at court with his mother. At the first council held after the death of her sband, the widowed queen sat at the head of the )le, listening with deep interest to the dehberations. L one point, at least, all present appear to have been reed. It was decided that no time should be lost in mging the young king to London, and a day so rly as the 4th of May was fixed upon for his coro- tion. But at this point their good understanding ised. Eivers, having the government of South "Wales, d under his command a considerable mihtary force, the head of which it was suggested by the queen it her son should be escorted to London. This >ject met with prompt and strong opposition from •tain members of the councU, and more especially m Hastings. Between him and Eivers there existed leadly hostUity. Eivers hated Hastings because the e king had preferred him to be governor of Calais i Guines ; while Hastings had every reason to ribute to Eivers an imprisonment which he had merly undergone ia the Tower, and his narrow ;ape from the block. The queen, too, seems to ve conceived an invincible aversion to Hastings ; lieving him to have been too " secretly familiar th her late husband in wanton company." Under ?se circumstances, the arrival of Eivers in the metro- lis at the head of an anny would probably have an the signal for sending Hastings to the scaffold, t Hastings had also ample pubhc, as well as private )tives, for his opposition. The anxiety of the Wood- les to fiU London with armed men was sufficiently licative of their intention to maintain their power force, and consequently could not fail to excite the rm and jealousy of the accomphshed statesman. • H 2 106 itma EicnAED the third. ciTAP. servants, " watching that no one should go to sanc- "/■_■ tuaiy."* Some intenlion tlieie seeins to have been, on 1-183. the part of the queen's friends, of opposing force to force.f The vigilance of Hastings, however, and the great interest which he had contrived to establish with the citizens of London, effectually prevented any com- motion. Thus, within the space of a few days, had Eichard of Gloucester raised himself to be the foremost person in the kingdom, the " observed of all observers." Society blessed liim for having prevented the horrors of civil war ; the commonalty admired him for the extra- ordinary zeal he professed for the interests of his nephew ; while the ancient nobility, dehghted at the fatal blow which he had struck at the power of the Woodvilles, flocked to him with offers of service and enthusiastic expressions of applause. "He was sud- denly fallen into so great trust," writes Sir Thomas More, "that, at the council next assembled, he was made the only man chosen, and thought most meet to be protector of the king and his realm."J So guarded had been Richard's conduct, so warily and wisely had he pursued his object, that his secret designs, whatever they may have been, continued to be unsuspected even by the most suspicious. The levees which he held at his princely mansion, Crosby Place, in Bishopsgate Sti-eet, were crowded by the noblest and wisL-st of the land. The young king was left " in a manner desolate.''^ The spiritual lords seem to have vied with the tempond lords in doing honour to Eichard. Tlie coveted pro- tectorship may almost be said to have been forced upon him. Following ;i precedent in the case of Himiplu'ey Duke of Gloucestei', wlio had been appointed protector • Sir T. ]\1oio'm Ulolmnl ITT. pp. ;10. JU ; Ilnll, p. 350. f Croyl. Clinm. Colli. ]>. IS7. j Sir T. Moto'h IJicluu-il III. ]'. Sb. § lliiil. p. (iO. KING EICHABD THE THIRD. 103 . the part of the "Woodvilles, he would have foirnd chap. difficult to justify to the world the act of violence > ^J_ lich, on that memorable night, he projected with -^^^^• ickingham. But whatever reflections the tidings brought by ickingham may have given rise to in the mind of oucester, the remainder of the evening passed away the greatest harmony. The fact is somewhat remark- le, that, of the four men who on that evening pledged ch other in the wine-cup at Northampton, and en- avoured to cajole one another with professions of endship, one and aU were nearly aUied to the reigning Dnarch. Gloucester and Eivers were his uncles ; ickingham was his uncle by marriage ; Sir Eichard •ey, as we have said, was his half-brother. Within :le more than two years, aU four perished by a )lent de*th, either on the scaffold or on the field battle. But to return to our narrative. Eivers and Grey d no sooner retired to rest, than Gloucester and ckingham shut themselves up in a private apartment, lere they passed the greater part of the night in ;ret consultation. The recent acts of the WoodviUes, the anxiety which they had betrayed to escort the ung king to London at the head of a powerful miU- y force, — the seizure of the royal treasure, — and, tly, the conduct of Eivers in hurrying on the king Stony Stratford, left not a doubt of the nature of iir ambitious designs. Not a moment was to be lost counteracting them. The bold measure of seizing ; person of the king was finally resolved upon. fore day dawned the conspirators had decided on iir plan of operation : their orders were promptly en, and as promptly obeyed. To prevent all com- nication between Eivers and the king was of irse their first object. Accordingly, horsemen were t out to patrol the roads between Northampton H 4 108 lilNG RICIIAED THE THIRD. I'liAP. of the land, the protectorship would cease so soon as r^ — - that ceicmony had been performed : young Edward ^^^'^' would then, as anointed king, assume the sovereign power. No option therefore remained to Gloucester, but either to descend with a good grace into his former station as a subject, or else to stifle every compunction of conscience, and seize the crown which he had solemnly sworn to defend for another. To a man of Eichard's aspiring nature and boundless ambition, the prospect of exchanging almost sovereign power for the subordinate rank and honours of a mere prince of the blood, must have appeared intolerable. Moreover, putting the question of ambition altogether aside, his descent from power must necessarily entail imminent personal clanger both on himself and his friends. Not only had he offended the Woodvilles beyond all hope of reconciliation, but his recent sei- zure of Edward's person at Stony Stratford, and the arrest and imprisonment of the king's dearest fi-iends and nearest relatives, were acts which no sovereign ■was likely to forget or forgive. Let the crown once descend upon the brow of young Edwai'd, and who could doubt but that the queen-mother and her kindi-ed would bring all their influence into play to prejudice liim against their arch-enemy, and that Eichard's ruin, and perhaps his death on the scaflbld, would be the result ? It may be argued that it was the interest, as well as the duty, of the protertor, to establish his nephew liiiuly on the throne ; to release Lord Elvers and Su Eichard Grey from imprisonment ; to identity himself with the fortunes of the quei'ii iind her poAverful kindred; iind to render hiinself as trusted and beloval by Edward V. as he lind formerly been by Edward IV. 15ut sueli n slcp would have completely stultified the icvohition which he had so recently elleeted. More- over, it would luue been the grossest act of ti'eacliery KING EICHARD THE TIIIED. 105 ocession wended its way througli the streets of chap. )ndon, Gloucester repeatedly, and with great apparent . _ ^^- . thusiasm, pointed out his royal nephew to the popu- 1483. je. " Behold," he said, " your prince and sovereign [■d ! " * The love and reverence which he displayed wards his nephew excited universal admiration. His cent violent seizure of the hateful Woodvilles had 3t him none of his popularity. " He was on all mds," says Sir Thomas More, "accounted the best, as ! was the first, subject in the kingdom." -f- Followed T the blessings and acclamations of his subjects, the rang king was conducted in the first instance to the ilace of the Bishop of London, near St. Paul's Cathe- 'al, where he received the homage and congratulations ' his nobles. Some days afterwards he was escorted the royal apartments in the Tower. The arrest of Elvers and Grey produced the effect isired by Eichard. The queen and her kindred Lve up the contest in despair ; Ehzabeth, with her cond son and her fair daughters, flew affrighted to e sanctuary at Westminster, where she was subse- lently joined by her son, the Marquis of Dorset, lien, shortly before daybreak, the Lord Chancellor Dtheram, Archbishop of York, repaired to her with e great seal, he witnessed, we are told, a most painful ■ ene of " heaviness, rumble, haste, and business." The yal servants were hurrying into the sanctuary, bearing tests, household- stuffs, and other valuable goods. J le queen herself " sat alow on the rushes, all desolate id dismayed." When at length the day dawned, and the archbishop oked forth upon the Thames, he beheld the river )vered with boats, full of the Duke of Gloucester's * Fabyan, p. 668 ; HaU, p. 351. t Sir T. More'a Life of Edward V. in Kennet, vol. i. p. 486. X Ibid. vol. i. p. 485. 110 KINO RICHARD THE THIRD. cirAP. this lirae, appnrently roroiK'il(j(l to the queen and the — i!.i— WoodvilleM, and deeply implicated in their conspiracies 1 1«^- airaiust the protect(jr. FrDiu his boyho(xl Eichard had been accustomud to rci^furd Hasting.-s with admiration, as the most accompUslied courtier and soldier of his age. He is even said to have loved him more than any other living man ; and certainly, of all hving men, he would seem to have been the last whom Eichard would wantonly have consigned to the scaffold. He resolved, therefore, in the first instance, to sound Hastings, and, if possible, to induce him to embrace his views. Tlie person whom he employed on this delicate service was one Catesby, an able and designing lawyer, whom Hastings had admitted to his confidence. Catesby's propositions, carefully as they were worded, could not fail to stai'tle Hastings. The times, Catesby said, were pregnant with danger, both to the throne and to the conunonwealth ; it was of vital importance that an " experienced person and brave commander " should take the helm of government ; and who so fitted to be a pilot in stormy times, both from his position as first prince of the blood, and from his ability and firmness, as the Duke of Gloucester ? Xot, argued Catesby. that the protector and his friends had any mtention of prejudicing the interests of the young monarch, much less of supplanting him on the throne. The sunple proposition was that the protector should wear the crown till the yoiuig king had attained the age of twenty-five, at which time, it was presumed, he would be ca])able of governing the realm as "an able and cfricient king." The veil with which Eichard sought to disguise his intended usurpation, was too Himsy to ('(inceal his real purpose. With a disinterestedness, which relK'cts the liighest credit on his memory, Hastings not only nl'nseil to listen to the proposition, but replied to Catesby in such "terrible words," as KING EICHAED THE THIRD. 107 uring the minority of Henry VI., the council of state, chap. with, the consent and good will of all the lords,"* in- ^ . ™" 3sted Eichard with the dignity. No single individual l^^^- ;ems to have objected to the appointment ; the popular ichng in his favour appears to have been universal ; ) much so that the concurrence of parliament seems to ave been considered not only as unessential, but, for le time, to have been absolutely disregarded. Even [astings, affectionately as he watched over the inte- 3sts of the young Hng, and deeply read as he was in uman nature, could discover no grounds except for Dngratulation in the elevation of Eichard of Glou- 3ster.f Moreover, the active preparations which were pparently being made for his nephew's coronation had le effect of averting suspicion, and aiding to increase is popularity with the vulgar. Even at this late sriod, it seems questionable whether Eichard enter- ined any serious thoughts of deposing his brother's IT., much less of procuring his assassination. * On the 19th of May we find the young king ad- ?essing the assembled peers in parhament. The 22nd June, the feast of the Nativity of St. John the aptist, was the day fixed upon for the solemnization of e ceremony. The coronation-robes were prepared. tie barons of England, who had been summoned from I parts of the realm, " came thick " to swear allegiance their sovereign. The " pageants and subtleties were making day and night." The viands for the great mquet in Westminster had been actually purchased am the purveyors. J As the day, which had been fixed upon for the coro- ,tion, drew near, doubtless many perplexing thoughts ^sed through the mind of the protector. By the law * Croyl. Chron. Cont. p. 488. t Ibid. p. 489. I Sir T. More's Eichard III. pp. 69, 70 ; Harl. MS. (No. 433, t. 1651), quoted in Halsted's Eich. III. vol. ii. p. 68. 112 CIIAT. IV. THE USURPATION OP HICHABD OF GLOUCESTEE. CHAP. On Friday, the 13th of June 1483, there took place _v: . that memorable council in the Tower of London, which 1483. ^]^g pgQ Qf gjj. Thomas More has so graphically de- scribed, and which the genius of Shakspeare has im- mortahzed. At the council-table sat, among other lords, tlie Archbishop of York, Lord Hastings, Lord Stanley, and Dr. Morton, Bishop of Ely, afterwards cardinal and Arclibishop of Canterbury. The tliree latter had been the personal friends of the late king ; all three were devoted to the interests of his son. It was nine o'clock in the morning when the protector entered the council-chamber and took his seat at the head of the table. He had played the sluggai-d, he said pleasantly ; he hoped the lords would forgive him for being late. His countenance retained its usud im- perturbable expression. Not a word nor gesture of uneasiness escaped him. He even appeai-ed to be in the highest spirits possible ; jesting Avitli the Bishop of Ely on the excellence of his strawberries, for which the garden of his episcopal residence, Ely House in Hol- born, was famous. " My lord of I'.lv, when I was ]nst in Ilolborn, I Kiw jj;i"h1 slrMwlirrnos in your g'linlon there; I do lieNeeeli yon send lor some oC tlieni." Kill,/ Jik-hard III. Act. iii. Sc. 4. The bisliop nccordingly despatched a servant for the fruit. In the ini'an time, having excused his absence to the members of the council, tlie protector retired awhile 1483. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 109 rards the nobles who had assisted him in destroying chap. ! power of the Woodvilles, and in all probabihty ^^- luld have hurried Buckingham, Hastings, and others the block. These misfortunes, indeed, might pos- ly have been prevented by an appeal to arms ; but greater disaster could have befallen England at this riod than a renewal of the civil war, a catastrophe lich the protector seems to have been resolved at hazards to prevent. But whatever may have been the motives which tally determined Eichard of Gloucester to usurp the rone, no one can question the consummate cunning id. abiUty with which he carried his plans into :ecution. The persons, whose opposition he had the greatest ason to dread, were Buckingham and Hastings on the irt of the old feudal aristocracy, and Elvers and Grey I the side of the queen and her kindred. Buckingham, man of great ambition and avarice, the protector ems to have found httle difficulty in corrupting. The ike, moreover, was too much detested by the Wood- Ues, and had too much reason to dread their ven- ;ance, not to enter heartUy into any scheme which :omised to strip them of power. Hastings, as we shall :esently discover, proved incorruptible. As for Elvers id Grey, they were already in the toils of the pro- ictor, and he was resolved that they should never icape from them. As it was never the policy of the fotector to shed blood unnecessarily, the probability ;ems to be that it was the discovery of plots for le release of these unhappy noblemen, and also, as ichard himself confidently asserted, the existence of deep-laid conspiracy against his authority, which ibsequently induced him to sacrifice their Hves in [■der to secure his own. Hastings, as we have seen, was resolved at all hazards ) stand by the son of his dead master. He was, at 114 KINO EICIIARD THE TIIIBD. CHAP, done any sucli tiling, they deserve to be both severely ■,. ^^/ _. punished." " And (Id you answer me," thundered the 1-183. protector, "with ifs and ; Morc's Life of Ivlw.'inl V. ill Koniicf, \ ol. i. pp. -lO.'t- I. t Sii- T, Moiv's Kidi.'ird HI. pp. "M, 71; More's Life of I'lilw.iid V. ill Kennel, vol. i. p. 101. It nppeiivs hy Hastings' will, (liitiil ■J7lli .lime M8I, tlmt tho Into king, Kihvnrd IV., had fliiriieily expreNsnl ;iii iiirectionnto wisli that Hastings sliould be Imiied near liiin lit Wimlsor, " And fornanmeli as the king, of his KING EICHAED THE TIIIKD. Ill lid not fail to give deep offence to the protector.* chap. tesby carried back the reply to his employer, and . . "^" .., m that moment, doubtless, the head of Hastings 1483. ,s doomed to fall upon the scaffold. ' Sir T. More's Richard HI. p. 69 ; More's Life of Edward V. Kennet, vol. i. p. 493. 116 JUNO JtlClIARD THE TIIIKD. CHAT, a kingly, but a natural right, to insist on enjoying the s_i-^^:^ companionship of hiw own brother, — that the queen's 1-183. detention of the Duke of York in sanctuaiy was a tacit hbel on the government of the protector, — that it was calculated to excite a popular apprehension that the king's life was iu danger, — that it tended to oc- casiou scandal at foreign courts, — that, should the young king happen to die, his successor on the throne would be left in most improper hands, — and lastly, it was insisted how great would be the increase of scandal, both at home and abroad, should the king walk at his coronation unsupported by the presence of his only brother.* Richard, it is said, but for the opposition which he encountered from the Ai'chbishops of Canterbmy and York, woidd have taken his nephew out of sanctuary by force. Five hundred years, they said, had passed, since k't. Peter, attended by multitudes of angels, had descended i'rom heaven in the night, and had conse- crated the ground on which were built the church and sanctuary of Westminster. f Since then, they added, no king of England had dared to \'iolate that sauctuaiy, and such an act of desecration woidd doubtless di-aw down the just vengeance of heaven on the whole kingdom. Eventually it was decided, that Caixiinal Bourchier, Archbishop of Canterbury, should pix^ceed with some of the temporal peers to the sanctuary, and endeavour to reason tlie queen into a compliance with the wishes of the council. For a considerable time the unhappy mother remained obdurate. Being assured, however, that force would be resorted to if necessaiy, she: was at lenglli hiduced to bring forth the royal boy * Miiit'V iMhvii.nl V. in Kcniui, vol. i. pp. ISli-?. f II would .'ipponr llitit ii copo, .sjiid to li;\vo boon worn by St. I'clcr (111 llio ooriiftion, wmm ill lliis tiiiio prosovvcd in 'Wostmiuster Alilioy, iiH 11 " ]iroor" of llio sjiint'.s visitation. Mere's Hist, of Iv'lolmnl III. p. III. XING KICHAED THE THIED. 113 n the apartment, desiring the lords to proceed with chap. ir deliberations. When, in about an hour, he re- , — £^ led, his manner and appearance had undergone a l-^^^- iplete and painful change. On his countenance e, hatred, and vengeance are said to have been ;ibly and terribly depicted. A brief but awful ise ensued, during which the protector sat at the .ncU-table, contracting his brows and biting his Hps. length he started up. Closely allied as he was, said, to the Mng, and intrusted with the administra- 1 of government, what punishment did those per- s deserve who compassed and imagined his destruc- 1? The lords of the council, completely confounded, lained silent. At length, Hastings, emboldened per- )s by their long friendship, and the affection which protector was believed to entertain for him, ven- ed to reply to the infuriated prince. " Siu-ely, my 1," he said, " they deserve to be punished as heinous itors, whoever they be." At these words the rage ;he protector seemed to increase. " Those traitors," exclaimed, boldly accusing the queen, " are the ceress, my brother's wife, and his mistress, Jane )re : see how by their sorcery and witchcraft they re miserably destroyed my body ! " And therewith, ^tes Sir Thomas More, " he plucked up his doublet- 3ve to his elbow upon his left arm ; where he showed rerish withered arm and small." * The lords of the mcil looked at each other in terror and amazement, ain Hastings was the first to attempt to pacify him. iertainly, my lord," he said, " if they have indeed This is, apparently, another of those imaginary personal de- aities which vulgar report or pohtical malignancy formerly de- ited to attribute to Eichard of Gloucester. If, as has been jrted, his left shoulder was somewhat lower than the right, it f not improbably have given rise to this additional calumny. ! ante, pp. 75 — 78. I lis KINfJ RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, usuriiing the Hovcrei^ni authority, his nephews con- ^J)J!l_^ tiuued to be forniidaljlc; oljstsiclL's in his way, but ' '^•^- they were entirely in his power. In order to found a dynasty, it was (if course expedient to extirpate the male heirs of his late brother, Ivlward IV. But, even though Richard were the bloodthirsty and unscrupulous monster which history usually lepie.'-euts him to have been, it was manifestly not his p(»Ucy, at this time, to call to his aid the services of the midnight assassin. Whatever may have been his scruples in other respects, liis authority as yet rested on too insecure a basis to permit his name to be associated with the crime of murder. Accordingly, he seems to have eagerly em- braced an expedient, which, at the same time that it relieved hira i'rom the commission of a fearful crime, promised to lend a colour of justice to his usm-[)ation. At the time when Edward IV. breathed his last, there wei'e interposed, between the Duke of Gloucester and the succession, the two sons and the five daughters of the late king, and the son and daughter of the late Duke of Clarence. But, in those tm-bulent times, when the interests of society rendered absolutely nocessaiT the rule of an energetic monai'ch in order to avert the horrors of anarchy, there was perhaps not a bai"oa in England so romantic as to have raised his banner for the puipose of exalting a female to the tlii'one, A people, who, little more than eighty years jiieviouslv. had tacitly (kn-lared the monarchy oi' England to be an elective one, by ])referring Henry of Lancaster to theii' k'gitimate sovereign, Richard IT., could scarcely be ex])er(ed to upjiold, in times o\' almost unprecedented didlcully, llie claims of a girl and a minor. Yirtunlly, therefore, the only individuals who stood in the way of Richiird were llie two sons of his brother Edward, fnid the yoimg h'arl of \\'arwick, the son of liis brother Chirence. Hut ^\'arwick had alreatly been set aside by the act of parliament which had included him in the 1483. KING KICHARD THE THIRD. 115 In the mean time, the queen-dowager, much to the chap. noyance of the protector, had persisted in detaining r younger son, the Duke of York, in the sanctuary at estminster. As Eichard unquestionably displayed eat anxiety to withdraw him from thence, the itractors of the protector are not to be blamed, if, 3m this circumstance, they draw a not unreasonable ference that he already contemplated, not only the ithronement of one brother, but the murder of both. 'it, on the one hand, the charge, thus preferred, sts upon mere assumption ; whereas, on the other md, Eichard had not only excellent state reasons for ishing to withdraw his nephew from the influence of .s mother and her kindred, but those reasons had sen solemnly dehberated at the council-table, and :onounced to be unanswerable. The pubhc had de- ared the Woodvilles to be the enemies of the State, id therefore improper parties to have the charge of le person and education of the heir presumptive to le throne. It was argued at the council-table, and ith sober reason, that the young king had not only jundant grace, for the true service that I have done, and at the ast intended to have done to his grace, hath willed and offered me be buried in the ohxirch or chapel of St. George at Windsor, in a ace by his grace assigned, in which college his grace is disposed to ; buried, I therefore bequeath my simple body to be buried in the id chapel and college in the said place, &c." — Testamenta Vetusta, )1. i. pp. 368-9. " I bequeath my body," runs the last will of ueen Elizabeth "WoodviUe, " to be buried with the body of my rd, at Windsor, according to the will of my said lord and mine, ithout pompous interring or costly expenses." — Ihid. vol. i. p. 25. here is something not only touchingly striking, but tending to ideem the character of Eong Edward in our eyes, that the friend ho was most intimately acquainted with his failings, and the wife ho had forgiven him so many infidelities, should have recorded leir solemn wish that, in accordance with the express desire of le late king, their dust might mingle with his. A copy of King dward's own will, the existence of which was formerly questioned, iU. be found in the Excerpta Historica, p. 366. I 2 120 KING EIOHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, not jmpossiljlc, he laad implicated himself in the treason ._. ^y- _, of Wiuwick and Claiencc, certain it is that he was sub- 1483. JLH'ted to ])er.secutioii and disgrace. He was charged with having broken his oath of allegiance*; and, although tlu' fact exists on official record that a solemn tribunal, composed of the lords spiritual and temporal, eventually acquitted him of the charge, he is said to have not only suffered imprisonment, but to have been forced to pay a considerable sum as the price of his release.f According to De Commines, a well-informed contemporary, the treatment which the bishop met with on this occasion so rankled in his mind, that, years afterwards, he visited on the innocent children of his royal benefactor, the injustice which he imagined he had encountered at the hands of their parent.;]; From the time of Stdlington's disgrace, till Eichard was in the midst of his designs on the protectorsliip, if not on the throne, we lose sight of the discon- tented prelate. Then it was, however, that he not only reappeared on the stage as the zealous supporter of the protector, but divulged, or pretended to di^Tilge, a secret of such vital importance, that, if its truth could be established, it would certainly go far to justify Eichard in his designs on the throne. According to the account promulgated at the time, the gravity of ■which rests entu'ely upon the testimony of the bishop, the late king, previously to his romantic marriage witli Elizabeth Woodville, had fallen in love Viidi the Lady Eleanor Botelcr ^, daughter of the Ivul of * " Post ct contra juramcntum fideliliiti.. Appendix. \ Ibid. p. Wit), Appendix. KING KICHARD THE THIRD. 119 ttainder of his father, and accordingly, as far as the chap. accession in the male line was in question, Edward V. . ,_: — nd his brother were the only obstacles to the protector, 1^83. 1 the ambitious course wliich he was now evidently lursuing. It was in this, his hour of difficulty and need, that here arrayed himself on the side of the protector, a aan whose high position in the church, whose long ex- lerience in state affairs, and whose profound knowledge if the law, rendered him a most valuable auxihary. Chis person was Eobert Stillington, Bishop of Bath and A^'ells, whose industry and eminent talents had, in the ate reign, raised him from the plebeian ranks to the !piscopal bench, and to the lord-chancellorship of Eng- and. He had quitted the university with a high repu- ation for learning. The applause with which he took his legree of Doctor of Laws has been especially recorded. lo King Edward IV. he had lain under the deepest obh- ;ations. By that monarch he had been successively ad- anced to the archdeaconry of Taunton, the bishopric if Bath and Wells, the keepership of the Privy Seal, and he lord-chancellorship. The latter appointment he held rom the 8th of June 1467, to the 8th of June 1473, rhen HI health is said to have compelled him to resign he seals. That, while out of office, he was not also out if favour, may be presumed by King Edward selecting dm, two years afterwards, to preside over a secret and lot very dignified mission to the court of Brittany. /Vhen, in pursuance of his ruthless purpose of extir- )ating the house of Lancaster, Edward sought to entrap he young Earl of Eichmond, afterwards Henry VII., nto his power, Bishop StilHngton was chosen as the )erson best quahfied to induce the Duke of Brittany, ither by cajolery or bribes, to dehver up the exUe to lis arch-enemy. Whether the iU-success, which the sx-chanceUor encountered on this occasion, prejudiced dm in the eyes of his sovereign, or whether, as seems *i4 12-1 KJN(J lUClIAKD THE THIRD. CHAP, that he was little better than the restless and ambitious _^^:^ . priest, sueh us he is rc])rcsciitc(l in the pages of De ll«y. Commines. Nearly thirty yeais after he had sat on the woolsack as lurd-eliaiicellor, we find the veteran priest supporting the flimsy jjn-ten^-ions of Lambert Smmel, and ecjnsequently compelled to fly to sanctuary in the Univeisity of Oxford. The university consented to deliver him up to Henry VIL, on condition that his life should be spared. He died in durance in Windsor Castle, in the month of June 14'J1.* In the mean time, the execution of Hastings, and the imprisonment of Lord Stanley and the two prelates, instead of creating' alarm, would seem to have increased the confidence of the pubUc in the government of the protector. There were many causes which tended to til is residt. Not only had the report of the previous marriage of the late king been sedulously and success- fidly promidgated by the partisans of Eichardf, but they had even gone so far as to insist that Edward IV. himself had been of spurious birth, and consequently tliat his children were excluded, by a double bar of illegitimacy, from all title to the throne. Although the venerable Duchess of York was still living, it was pre- tended that in the lifetime of her husband, slie had been lavish in her favours to other men. one of whom ^vas the father of King Edward and of the Duke of Clarence. Difficult as it is to imagine that a sou could be foimd biisc enough to prefer charges of adultery against his own mother, it had nevertheles-; formerly suited Clarence, when he disputed the title of his bi-other Edward to the throne, to countenance, if he did not originali', this shameful scandal.^ As regards the conduct of the protector, however, not * T,oril CimhiiIh'II's I.ivrs iiftlu' Cliiinoellors, vol. i. p. 301. t Sir T. M.ii-c's i;i.iiiinl 111. ii|i. '.m;-7, ;•'.». j i;..i. I'iiii. v,.i. vi. p. r,»i. EING EICHAKD THE THIED. 121 rewsbnry. Failing in his attempt to corrupt her chap. :tue, Edward, it was said, secretly made her his wife. . ^^- . jcording to the bishop, he himself performed the 1483. remony, and was the sole witness present on the casion.* Whether such a marriage was ever really solemnized, is now impossible to determine. Certainly there are any circumstances which render it in the highest igree improbable. That an event of such importance ould have been kept a profound secret for twenty sars, is of itself extremely unlikely. And yet, that ) suspicion of it had hitherto got abroad, there can ; httle question. Had the contrary been the case, e sovereigns of Europe would never have consented contract their children in marriage with those of iward ; neither can we doubt but that Clarence and arwick, when they rebelled against his authority, 3uld have availed themselves of their knowledge of important a fact, which, inasmuch as it bastardized e children of his elder brother, would have left arence the nearest heir to the throne. Moreover, ere are other circumstances, — such as no witnesses ving apparently been examined, and no evidence oduced, as well as the suspicious fact of the alleged irriage having been kept a secret till those who ight have disproved it, were in their graves, — which )Ted. One of our historians even goes so far as to question letter such a person ever existed. See Lingard's Hist, of Eng- id, vol. iv. p. 235, note, ed. 1849. The cui-ious in such matters ,y also perhaps find researches assisted by referring to Duo-- le's Baronage, vol. i. pp. 331-2 & 596, and vol. ii. p. 235 ; Eot. rl. vol. vi. p. 441 ; Croyl. Chron. p. 489 ; and Sir E. Brydges' erage, vol. iii. p. 19. There is one great difficulty opposed to i view which Buck and Walpole take in regard to the lady's intity ; viz. that the name of the daughter of John Earl of Shrews- ry, who married Thomas Boteler, Lord Sudley, was not Eleanor t Anne. She was left a widow till 1473, nine years after Edward i married Elizabeth "Woodville. * De Commines, tome ii. p. 157. 12G KING lUCIIARD THE THIED. I'liAi'. Wc liave now iircrnnpanied the protector in his • — ^^-^— ciuci;!- to the 2 1st of June, the day prev-ious to that l-l«^- Avhich Jiad boi'ii fixed upon for the coronation of the Juno 21. young king. On that day London is described, in a remarkable conleiuiioiary letter written on the spot, as being in a most agitated state. Tlie writer, who, in a foruRT letter, liad urged his correspondent to attend tlic coronation, where he "would know all the world," now congratulates him on being absent from the metropolis at so alarming a crisis.* From what quarter, — whether from the ambition of the pro- tector, or fi^om the intrigues of the queen and her still powerful faction, — the threatened danger was expected to arrive, no intimation nor hint unfortunately escapes the writer. The quarter, however, from which it was least to be ajipreliended, seems to have been from Juno 10. Eichard himself Certainly, a few days pre^iou;ly, Eichaixl — styling himself " protector, defender, great chamberlain, constable, and admiral of England" — liad addressed an urgent appeal to the mayor and citizens of York, intimating that " the queen, her bloody adherents and aihnity, intended, and daily did intend, to destroy him, our cousin the Duke of Buckingham, and the old royal blood of the realm" and urging his old friends in the north to send to his aid and assistance as many armed m^n as they coidd "defensively array."! But, so far from this appeal having been made Avith any attempt at concealment, there is evidence that the arrival of an armed force in the metropolis, at the invitation of the protector, was, diiily almost, ex- • Loiters from Simon Stjillwortlic lo Sir Willinm Sioiier. knight, (hilt'il W'vcriilly from I.omlon, ',U1\ :iiul 'ilsi .luiio 118,'). StaJhvorthe \n iirosiiiiiiil Id li.Mvr lu'i'ii im ollioiT in llu' liou.-;i'liold, and in the iniifiilciii'i', of .lolm lIiisM'll, nishop of Lincoln, at this time lord- iliMiici'Ilor. l'",xi-rr|iln lliHlorioii, j>p. l;!, It!. f Dr.Mki'.s Kliorjunm, |i. IIL KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 123 been attributed to him ; whether, by earning the chap. titude of Eichard, he hoped to recover his former .^ — ^ h position in the State ; or whether, as is possible, 1*83. may have considered that by putting aside the young g and his brother, he was averting great disasters tn his country, must of course be a matter of mere LJecture. According to De Commines, a desire to vate, to a far higher position than his birth entitled a to, an illegitimate son to whom he was much at- hed, was the principal motive of the bishop. The ith is said to have aspired to the hand of the most istrious maiden ia the land, the Princess Ehzabeth, erwards Queen of England. The bishop abetted the )irations of his son, and, as a reward for aiding Eichard his designs on the throne, is said to have obtained a )mise from him, that so soon as the law should have luced the daughters of the late king to the position private gentlewomen, his son should marry the prin- iS. In the mean time, the protector took the young ,n into favour, and sent him on a mission beyond sea. different fortune, however, awaited him from that lich he had anticipated. The ship in which he sailed s captured off the coast of Normandy, and the youth ,s sent a prisoner to the French capital. Whatever y have been the offence with which he was charged, was examined before the parliament at Paris, and •own into the prison of the Petit Chatelet. Here, it said, he died of want and neglect. Not impossibly, wever, some zealous Enghsh exile, eager to avert the hgnity which threatened the house of Plantagenet, ly have found means to induce the functionaries of 3 prison to shorten, by a more summary process, the istence of the aspiring youth.* The subsequent story of Bishop Stilhngton, no less m that of his past career, tends to the conviction * De Commines, tome ii. p. 245. 128 KING IIICIIAED THE THIRD. I'liAi'. t('Ll,(jr seems to have been regarded, by the majority of c- — ■ his countrymen, as the cause of conservatism and order, 1483. g^jjjj fonseijueiilly tlie ex])e(-te(l arrival of an armed force in London, at tlie summons of tlie chief magistrate, would naturally be regarded by the citizens as a subject for congratulation rather than alarm. With the exception of the asseited murder of his nephews, there are no two acts of Ilichard's life which have di'awn down upon him a greater amount of obloquy than the execution of Hasting-^, and the arbi- trary seizure of Rivers and Grey. At the time, pro- bably, public opinion was divided as to his conduct. INIany, perhaps, taxed him with being merciless if not cruel ; while many more, doubtless, acquitted liim on the score of his having been impelled by a stern and necessary policy. But, in whatever light his conduct on these occasions may ha\e been regarded by his contem- ])c)raries, it may at least be presumed that in the Inva-ts of the queen's relations, and of the followers of the gallant and idolized Hasthigs, no other feeluigs could have existed towards him than those of revensre and murder of the uncle of his sovereign, is of itself a very improbable circumstance. But great doubt even seems to exist whether the treat- ment ivhich Rivera met with was considered to be undeserved even by himself. For insUmce, considering the share whicli Sir William Cnte.sby, as "a great instrument of Richard's crimes" (Hiune, vol. iii. p. 2S7), may be presumed to have had in sending Rivers to the block, we are not a little startled at finding the earl actually selecting him to be one ol' the exi'eulors o( his last will. Ag-ain, not less curious is the confidence with which Rivei-s seems to look forward that llie pmleelor will siervisor (for very trust) of this tesl;iiuent, Ihal mine exeeiilors may with his plciisure fulfil Ihis my lasl will." — Will of Aiillioiii/. Karl lin/fr.-!, Exeerp. Hist, p. 2 IK. Siirrly ihese are neither the acts nor the language which miglil. be (Npic'ti'd from an iiijiu'ed man, towards the persons who lie had every leasoii to believe were bent on consigning hiuj to a ciiiil ili'atli. KING EICHAED THE THIKD. 125 only would he seem to have been innocent of all share chap. in reviving the slander, but subsequently, when one - ^ of his over-zealous partisans descanted on it from the 1^83. pulpit, he is said to have been extremely displeased. There were many other circumstances which fa- voured Eichard in his ambitious designs. The young king was only in his thirteenth year, and, as we have seen, the rule of a minor was anticipated with the greatest apprehension. Eichard, on the contrary, was in the prime of life ; he had shown himself one of the wisest princes of the age in the cabinet, and one of the most vahant on the field of battle. The barons looked up to him as the principal bulwark against the return of the hateful Woodvilles to power ; while the clergy were inclined to uphold him on account of the respect which he had ever manifested for the church, as a founder of pubhc charities, a re- storer of churches, and a warm advocate and promoter of the cause of private morahty and virtue. It was obviously, we think, to obtain popularity with the clergy, that he compelled the frail, but charitable and warm-hearted Jane Shore, to do penance in the streets of London. Moreover, there were probably many persons who sincerely beheved in the asserted illegi- timacy of the young king and his brother, as well as in the vahdity of the attainder which excluded the Earl of "Warwick from the succession. Lastly, the selfish interests of mankind were ranged on the side of the protector. The rule of a wise, an experienced, and a vigorous prince was calculated to insure peace and prosperity to the realm; while, on the other hand, should the sceptre be transferred to the young king, puppet as he was Hkely to prove in the hands of the queen and her kindred, there would in all probability ensue a renewal of those cruel civil contests, which for years had wasted the blood and treasure of the country. 130 KING BICIIAED THE THIRD. CHAP. London aldennftn not only ranked with the barons oi _^^_. England, but at his decease the same military honoun 1-18.!. ^y^,,.^. .|^yigned to b(jth.* The banner and the shield were carried before the corpse ; the helmet was laid on the coffin ; and the war-horse, with its martial trap- phigs, followed its muster to the grave. The proto- types of the aldermen of London of old may be discQvered in such men as Sir WiUiam "Walworth, who felled Wat Tyler to the earth at Smithfield ; in Sir John Crosby, who, as a warrior, grasped the hand of the fourth Edward on his landing at Eavenspur, and, as a ci\alian, played the part of the polished am- bassador at the coiu'ts of Burgimdyand Brittany; and, lastly, in Sir Thomas Sutton, whom we discover en- coiu'aging the advancement of letters and superintend- ing the progress of his magnificent foundation, the Chaiter House, with the same zeal that he had formerly directed the filing of the " great guns " at the siege of Edinburgh. Li the age of which we are WTituig, not only were the citizens trained to arms, but it requu'ed no very great provocation, nor any very imminent danger, to induce the apprentice to fly to seize his club, and the citizen his halberd. "Fm'ious assaults and slaughters" were of no very unfrequent ocourrence.f The seizure of the Tower, and the decapitation of the Archbidiqp of Canterbury, in 1381 ; the sanguinary encounter be- tween the rival comjianies of the Skinnei-s and Fish- mongers in 1399, and the light between the citizens and the sanctuary-men of St. Martin's-le-Grandin 1454, may be mentioned as passing evidences of the martial s])irit which pervaded the a^e. At the great meeting oi' the liarons in London, in lto8. the lord-mayor, 83 we have st'cn, was enabled to patrol the streets, night and day, with a guard of live thousand ixrmed citizens.^ • Slow's Survey of London, IkhiIc v. p. 81. t ll'ul. vul. ii., Ainn.'udi\-, p. 7. J See ante, p. 14. KING RICHARD THE. THIRD. 127 pected by the citizens. Had Eichard, then, been as chap. much dreaded and suspected by his fellow-countrymen .^ — ,J_ as the Tudor chroniclers would lead us to beheve, l^^^- surely a contemporary, in communicating to his cor- respondent a proceeding apparently so singular and fraught with danger, would have coupled it with some expression of apprehension or alarm. But even the well-informed confidential servant of the lord-chan- cellor can see nothing but what is laudable in the pohcy of the protector. " It is thought," he writes, " there shall be 20,000 of my lord protector and my lord of Buckingham's men in London this week ; to what intent I know not, but to keep the peace." * The dismay, then, which pervaded London on the 21st, may reasonably be attributed, not to any apprehension of the protector, but to the expectation of an approach- ing outbreak on the part of the queen and " her bloody adherents and affinity." That such a plot really existed, we have not only the uncontradicted assertion of Eichard himself, but the fact seems to account for, and perhaps to justify, the summary trial and execution of Elvers, and of two others of the queen's relations. Sir Eichard Grey and Sir Thomas Vaughan f , who were beheaded, in the sight of the people, only a day or two afterwards at July 23. Pomfret. J On the other hand, the cause of the pro- * Excerp. Hist. p. 17. f Sir Thomas Vaughan was nearly related to the WoodvUles, a significant circumstance which Miss Halsted has pointed out in her Life of Eichard III. vol ii. p. 55, note. I Rous, Hist. Eeg. Ang. pp. 213-4 ; Croyl. Chron. Cont. p. 489. Elvers' will is dated at the castle of Sheriff-Hutton, 23rd June, and it seems to have been immediately afterwards that he was arraigned and tried before Henry Earl of Northumberland, and forthwith sent to execution. That a brave and respectable noble- man like Northumberland, one, moreover, who was bound by aU the ties of gratitude and loyalty to maintain the rights of the young king, should have consented to preside at the mock trial and cruel 132 KlXfi RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, not of the justice, at least of tlie popularity of his ^1— cause. At a time, when there was "much trouble, ^^^^- each mini chnibting the other," * surely Eichard would never have dared to pubUsh his designs on the crown, unless the pubhc had apprehended danger from some other quarter than C'r( )sby Place, or unless the majority of the influential citizens had hooked up to him as, in every sense of the word, tlieir protector. The means which Eichard adopted to give publicity to his intended usurpation, were characteristic of the age and of the man. According to previous in\itation, a numerous meeting of the citizens took place on Sunday, the 22nd of June, in the large open space in front of St. Paul's Cathedral. The orator selected to harangue them was an eminent popular preacher of the day. Dr. Eaaf Shaw, brother of Sii- Edmund Shaw, lord-mayor of London. The spot from which he addressed the people was the celebrated Paul's Cross. Choosing for his text the words, " Bastai-d slips shall not take deep root," f he not only insisted on the illegitimacy of the young king and his brother, but is said to have had the boldness to descant upon the assumed frailty of the iUiistrious lady of whom Eichard was the eleventh cliild. The late king and the late Duke of Clarence he affirmed to be bastards: Eichard alone he declared to be the true heir of the late Duke of York. The lord protector, he said, represented in his lineaments " the \ery face '" of the noble duke his fatlior ; he was " the s;ime undoubted image, the ex])rcss hkeness, of that noble duke." Ac- cording to Sir Thomas I\h)re, it had been preconcerted between the protector and the preacher, that, at this moment, the I'ormer should present himself, as if by * K\ocr]). Ilisl. ]i. 111. f " Hill I lie mull i|ily ing brood of the ungodly sliall not thrive, noi iiiUi' (licp rimiing iVom bnsfArd slips, nor lay any tiist foundation."— Jiiw/t- I'f Wisdom, iv, .'). KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 129 indignation. Yet, on the contrary, strange as it may c^. appear, the contents of the valuable letter, to which • — -A- we are so much indebted, mduce us to arrive at an almost opposite conclusion. Not only are we in- formed that Lord Lisle, brother to the queen's first husband. Sir John Grey, has " come to my lord pro- tector and waits upon him,"* but also that the followers of Hastings had actually entered the service of the pro- tector's chief ally and abettor, the Duke of Buck- ingham.f That, by this time, Richard had secretly sounded the views of many of the most influential of the lords spiritual and temporal, and had obtained their approval of his aspiring to the crown, there cannot, we think, exist a doubt. But he had yet to obtain the sanction and concurrence of that once important and formidable body of men, the magistrates and citizens of London. To obtain their suffrages, therefore, — to accustom them to that formal assertion of his rights which he was on the eve of submitting to parhament, — to propound to them the defective title of his nephew on the ground of illegitimacy, as weU as the evils which the rule of a minor was certain to entail on the commonwealth, — were now the pohcy of the protector. In order clearly to understand the relative position of Eichaxd and the citizens of London, it becomes necessary, in the first place, to divest ourselves of the prejudices of the age in which we five. For instance, the worthy alderman of the present day has no more in common with the alderman of the middle ages, than the easy peer who, in the nineteenth century, wears the garter at a drawing-room at St. James's, has in common with the stalwart warriors who, at Cressy and Agincourt, won the proudest mili- tary order in Christendom. In the middle ages, a * Excerp. Hist. p. 17. f Ibid- K 134 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, the good ordering of his words, but not for the intent _^^- . and puqjose, the which thereupon ensued." * Even 1483. gir Thomas More admits that Buckingham delivered himself with " such grace and eloquence, that never so ill a subject was handled with so much oratory."! If the further account of the illustrious lord-chan- cellor is to be credited, the eloquence of Buckingliam, powerful as it was, fell flat upon the assembled citi- zens; only "some of the protector's and the duke's servants — some of the city apprentices and the rabble that had crowded into the hall — crying. King Richard ! King Richard ! and throwing up their hats in token of joy." Accordmg to the same authority, the proposi- tion to put the young kmg aside, in favour of his unck', was recei-\'ed by the midtitude Avith positive lamen^ tations. " The assembly," he writes, " broke up ; the most part of them with weeping eyes and aching hearts, though they were forced to hide their teai-s and their sorrows as much as possible, for fear of giving offence, which had been dangerous.";}: But, whatever may have been the feeluigs with which the citizens hstened to the arguments of Buck- ingham, nothing can be more cert;uu than that the first persons in the realm regarded it as sufficiently satisfactory to justify them in maldug the protector a formal offer of the crown. " The barons and com- mons," says Buck, "with one general dislike of. and an universal negative voice, refused the ^■ons of King Edward ; not for any ill-will or malice, but for tlieir disabilities and incapacities. The ophiions of those tinu's, too, held them not legitimate, and the Queen Elizabetli Grey, or ^^\■)od\•ille, no lawful wife, nor yet a woman Avorlhy to be tlie king's wife, by leason of her (.'Xlreine unequal quality. For tliese and other * Fnliyiin'M Cliroiiloli-M, p. C('>0. t '"^ii' 1'. Moii'm IaIwuiiI \'. in Kcnuet, vol. i. p. 490. t ll.i.l. IV. 1483? KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 131 Moreover, since tlien, the civil war had drained the chap. resources and lessened the military power of the barons, while the strength and importance of the towns had increased instead of having diminished. Considering its extent, and the martial spirit which distinguished its inhabitants, at no time during the civil wars would a mihtary occupation of London have been practicable. Neither Edward IV. nor Queen Margaret, in the days of their respective triumphs, had dared to oppose the citizens by force of arms. When the latter, after the second battle of St. Albans, approached the metropolis at the head of a victorious army, a simple intimation from the lord-mayor that the citizens were unfriendly to her cause, was sufficient to check her progress. Again, when Edward entered London in 1471, it was not at the head of the army, which a few days after- wards he led to victory at Barnet, but, by the favour of the principal citizens, through a postern-gate. The Bastard Falconbridge alone had dared to attempt to take the capital by assault, and, after a fierce and bloody contest, found himself signally defeated at every point. Such, then, being the military strength of London, and such the martial ardour of the citizens, surely the protector, imsupported as he was by any considerable armed force, would never have contemplated the bold step which he was about to take, unless he had pre- viously satisfied himself that the commonalty was in his favour. The fact, too, of his throwing off the mask before the expected arrival of his reinforcements from York ; the circumstance, moreover, of his doing so at a time when London was in a state of panic, which it was clearly his poHcy not to augment, but to allay ; and, lastly, his selecting the very day on which the disappointed citizens had expected to regale them- selves with the sight of a coronation, — seem to afibrd convincing evidence how persuaded Eichard was, if K 2 136 KING EICIIARD THE THIRD. CHAP, liud coil veiled to do liiin honour. According? to Sir —^.' — . Thomas More, it was not till after much importunity, 1183. ^j-^j j^,^|. -^itiiout j^ncal ajjpaient reluctance, that the protector was prevailed upon to receive the deputation, and to listen to their arguments and persua'^ion9. The statement is probably correct. Ko one could be more aware than the protector of the fickleness and uncer- tainty of popular favour. He knew that the day would probably arrive ur which his conduct to liis nephews would be charged against him as a crune. Wliat could be more natural, then, than that he should have shrunk fi'om being the only traitor ? Li the day when he might be called upon for his defence, he would be enabled to plead that his advi-ers and abettors had been the noblest and wisest in the land ; that when he accepted a crown, it Avas contraiy to his own wishes and better judgment, and sok-ly in de- ference to the solicitations of the "lords spiritual and temporal," and " for the public weal and tranquillity of the laud." * Glouc. Cdiisin of Buckingliam, and sage grave men, Since you -will buckle fortune on my back, To l)e;u- lier burthen, ■whether I 'n'ill or no. * Previously to his coronation, a roll containing certain articles was presented to him on behalf of tlio three esl;itos of the realm, " by many and di\-ers lords spiritual and temjxii-al," and other nobles and commons, to which he, " for the public weal and tnm- quillity of the land, beiiiirnly assented." — 7»Vf. Pari. vol. vi. p. 240. " It w.as set forth," writes the Croyland continuator, " bv w.ay of prayer, in a cerlnin roll c.f ]inrchnien(, (hat the sons of King Edward were bastards, on the ground that he had eoiilracted a marriage willi one Lady Eli'anor IloleU'r, beloro his marriage to Queen Elizabelh; ;idded to which, the blood of his otlier bivther, George Duke of (Clarence, had been attainted ; so that, at the present time, no certain and nncerrupled lineal blood could be t'ound of Richard Duke of York, except in the iierson k^< the said Kicliard Duke of (lloiK'esler. For which reason lie \\:\a ciilri-iiltil, at the end of the wild roll, nil. /iiiri of ihf Itinl.i (tinl ciiiiiiiioiii' of' the realm, to assume hia lawful rights." — Crni/I. Cliroi). Coiit. y. 16'J. IV. KING RICHAED THE THIED. 133 iccident, to the people, when it was hoped that chap, •' the multitude, taking the doctor's words as proceed- ing from divine inspiration, would have been induced to cry out, God save King Richard!"* If this clap-trap device was really projected by Eichard and his partisans, it signally failed ; the protector, accord- ing to Sir Thomas More, not making his appearance at the happy moment, and the preacher being put to such utter confusion, that he shortly afterwards died of grief and remorse. Our own conviction, however, is that the story is altogether apocryphal. Not only was so paltry an artifice iacompatible with the pro- tector's admitted sagacity and strong sense, but we search in vain for any corroboration of it by con- temporary writers. The fact is a significant one, that Fabyan — who, as a citizen of London, was not un- Hkely to have Hstened to Dr. Shaw's sermon — should, on the one hand, substantiate the important circum- stance of the preacher having impugned the legitimacy of the children of Edward IV., and yet should make no allusion to any slur having been thrown on the reputation of the Duchess of York.f On the 24th of June, two days after Dr. Shaw had advocated the protector's claims at St. Paul's, a still more important meeting took place in the GuildhaU of the city of London. The principal orator on this occasion was the Duke of Buckingham, who brought into play, in favour of the protector, aU the influence which he possessed as a priace of the blood, as well as the powerful eloquence for which his contemporaries have given him credit. " Many a wise man that day," writes Fabyan, " marvelled and commended him for * Sir T. More's Edward V. in Kennet, vol. i. p. 497 ; More's Hist of Richard m. p. 101. I Fabyan's Chronicles, p. 669. This -writer informs tis that Shaw was a man famous in his day, " both of his learning and also of natural wit." — Ihid. K 3 138 KING RICnAKD THE TIIIED. CHAP, one Fogg, who, having given him grievous offence, ^^: , had sought refuge in siinctuary, and, taking him gra- Mb3. ciously by the Ijaiid in tlie face of the multitude, as- sured him of Ids forgiveness.* From tlie great hall he pruiecded to tlie hUkj, at the door of which he was met by the abbot of Westminster, wlio presented to him the sceptre of King Edward lie then as- cended, and offered at, the shrine of .'^t. Edward ; after which — accompanied by the principal ecclesiastics in procession, with the monks siiiunug TV JJcum — he quitted the aljbey to take i)ossession of the neighbour- ing palace of the Confessor. June 26. Thus, at the age of thirty years and eight mouths, and after the lapse of only two montlis and seventeen days from the date of his brotlier Edward's death, was rdchard of Gloucester advanced to the supreme poAver. If he obtained his ends by means of dissimu- lation and crime, lie had at least the excuse that he had in all probability averted the horrors of civil war. and that his usurpation had been encouraged and abetted, not only by the lords spiritual and tern; i< nal but by the commons of England. Usurpation is usually accompanied by military violence ; but it was the suffrage, not the sword, which elevated Richard to the throne. True it is, that, at his earnest request, the citizens of York had despatched an armed force to his assistance ; but as it was not till after the 2ord of July, the day on which Ei\ ers -was beheaded, that they marched from Pomfret f , they could not have arrived in London till after the 2Gth, the day on which Eichard had been siilomnly and peacefullv in- vested witli the sovereign pmver. Moreover, as we liave already suggested, this force, in all probability, Avas intended, not to overawe, but to co-operate with, the tUizens of lioudon, in the event of a rising on * sir T. Moiv's IJIrliivrJ III. p. l-.>j. t Cn>)'l. C'luou. (.'out. p. lyil. KING KICHAED THE THIED. 135 causes, the barons and prelates unanimously cast their chap. election upon the protector, as the most worthiest and ._ — ;. — nearest, by the experience of his own deservings and 1^^^- the strength of his alhance." * Accordingly, on the very day after the meeting at 25 June. Guildhall, the Duke of Buckingham, " accompanied by many of the chief lords and other grave and learned persons," was admitted to an audience with the protector in the "great chamber" of Baynard's Castle, then the residence of his venerable mother, the Duchess of York.f In the courtyard of the castle were assembled the aldermen of London and a large body of the citizens, whom the lord-mayor. Sir Edmund Shaw J, one of the protector's most devoted partisans, * Buck's Life of Eichard III. in Kennet, vol. i. p. 523. •f The fact of Eichard having received the deputation under his mother's roof, instead of at his own residence, Crosby Place, appears to us as doubly curious. In the first place, it tends to the suppo- sition that the duchess preferred the claims of her yoimgest son, Eichard, to those of her grandsons ; and, in the next place, it goes far to give the lie to the cruel charge, which has been brought against the protector, that he sanctioned the foul aspersions which the preacher Shaw had cast on the fair fame of his mother. " Is it, can it be credible," writes Lord Orford, " that Eichard actuated a venal preacher to declare to the people from the pulpit at St. Paul's that his mother had been an adulteress, and that her two eldest sons, Edward IV. and the Duke of Clarence, were spurious, and that the good lady had not given a legitimate child to her husband but the protector, and, I suppose, the Duchess of Sufiblk ? " — Hist. Doubts, Lord Orford's Works, vol. ii. pp. 131, 200. I This munificent and respectable citizen was a member of the Goldsmiths' Company. Besides rebuilding " the old gate called Cripplegate, at his own expense " {Stow, book i. p. 18), he founded and endowed a free school at Stockport, in Cheshire (Ibid, book v. p. 60). Six months after Eichard's elevation to the throne, we find him selling to Shaw, whom he calls his merchant, a consi- derable portion of his plate, viz. 275 lbs. 4 oz. of troy weight. The amount received by Eichard was 550Z. 13s. id., which was paid, on the 23rd December 1483, to Mr. Edmund Chatterton, ta'easurer of the king's chamber. A list of the articles sold may be found in Stew's " Survey." Ibid, book v. p. 124, K 4 140 KINO RICHARD TIIK TUIRD. niAP. of EodiL'.stLT, 13atli, iJurlimn, l'l\e4(i-, and Norwich, , ^^- . forgot tlio OiiLhs of alli'j.nance wliich they had so 1483. recently taken to J'^ilward V., and scRipled not to sanction and grace the pageant by their ])re>ence. July 6. On the following day, a i'ai' luoie goi-geous procession passed from the great hall at Wi'stniin.ster to the neighbouring abbey. First issued forth the trumpets and clarions, the sergeauts-at- amis, and the heralds and pursmvants carrj'ing the king's annorial insignia. Then came the bishops with the mitres on theh" heads, and the abbots with their croziers m their hands ; Audley, Bishop of Eochester, bearing the cross before Cardinal Bourchier, Archbishop of Canterbury. Next followed the Earl of Northimiberland carrying the pointless sword of mercy ; Lord Stanley bearmg the mass ; the Duke of Suffolk Avith the scejitre ; the Earl of Lincoln with the cross and globe, and the Earls uf Kent and Surrey, and Lord Lovel. canying other swords of .state. Before the king walked the Earl Marslial of England, the Duke of Norfolk, bearing the crown, and immediately after him followed Eichard himself, gorgeously ariayed in roltes of purple velvet, furred with ormini', with a coat and surcoat of crimson satin. Over his head was borne a rich cano]iy sup- ported by the barons of the Cinque Ports. On one side of him walked Stillington, Bishop of luuh. and ou the other, Dudley, Bishop of Durham: the Duke of Buckingham held up his train. The procession was closed by a long train of earls and barons. Alter tlic procession of the king followed that of his queen, Anne Nexille. The E.arl of Huntingdon bore her scc])tre; the Viscoiuit Lisle the rod and dove; and the VawI of Wiltshire her crown. Then came the queen iuMsell', habited in robes o[' piuple velvet furred with ermine, haxini;- "on her iiead a circlet of "old r?" In}.n'iirl, (lMM,u;lili'r of 'IMidiiins v( Woodslock, Duke uf (.ilouet'ster, (illli will (1.1 KiiiL'; Kilwinil 111. KING BICHARD THE THIRD. 137 I must have patience to endure the load : ' CHAP. But if black scandal, or foul-faced reproach, _3Xl__ Attend the sequel of your imposition, 1483. Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure hlots and stains thereof : For God doth know, and you may partly see, How far I am from the desire of this. King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 7. Thus the protector coquetted, so long as it was safe and decent, with his proffered greatness. At length, being assured by Buckingham that the barons and commons of England would on no account consent to be ruled over by the sons of Edward IV., and, fur- thermore, that, if he persisted in refusing the crown, they would be compelled to look out for some other " worthy person " to be their sovereign, the heart of the protector is said to have gradually relented, and in a short speech, distinguished by humility and piety, he consented to wield the sceptre of the Plantagenets. " With this," says Sir Thomas More, " there was a great shout, saying. King Richard! King Richard! And then the lords went up to the king, and the people departed, talking diversely of the matter, every man as his fantasy gave him." * The following day the protector was proclaimed in Jime 26. the cities of London and Westminster by the title of King Eichard III. The same day, having the Duke of Norfolk on his right hand, and the Duke of Suffolk on his left, he ascended the marble seat in Westminster HaU, and from thence dehvered a gracious speech to his assembled subjects; Having ordered the judges to be summoned into his presence, he exhorted them to administer the laws with diligence and justice ; he pronounced a free pardon for all offences committed against himself, and ordered a general amnesty to be proclaimed throughout the land. He even sent for * Sir T. More's Richard III. p. 123. 142 KING RICIURD THE TIIIED. CHAP, office of state-carver ; Thomas Lord Scrope of Upsal, ~J^.'—^ that of cup-bcuier ; L dispensalions of Providence ! On the day ofhis s(>cond coronation, (he foiul father, surrounded by the most powerfid and the wisest in the limd, had V. KING mCHAED THE THIRD. 145 wrong." * He listened complacently to a petition from chap. the university of Cambridge, in favour of their chan- cellor, the Aj-chbishop of York, whom, at their sohci- tation, he released from confinement. He even hberated from the Tower one of the most active and powerful of his enemies, Morton, Bishop of Ely ; contenting himself with committing him to the safe keeping of the Duke of Buckingham, by whom the bishop was honourably entertained at his castle of Brecknock. Of his former friends, and of those who had served him faithfully, not one, it is said, was left unrewarded, much less forgotten. John Lord Howard was created Duke of Norfolk, and appointed earl marshal and admiral of England and Ireland. His son. Sir Thomas Howard, was created Earl of Surrey and invested with the Garter. The Duke of Buckingham, who of all men had been chiefly instrumental in elevating Eichard to the throne, was awarded the princely lordships and lands of the De Bohuns, Earls of Hereford, and the lucrative steward- ship of many of the crown manors. He was also appointed constable of England and governor of the royal castles in Wales. William Viscount Berkeley was created Earl of Nottingham, and Erancis Lord Lovel appointed chamberlain of the household, constable of the castle of WaUingford, and chief butler of England. On the 23rd July, King Eichard set forth from Windsor on a magnificent progress through the middle and northern counties of England. That, only seven- teen days after his coronation, he should have con- sidered it safe to leave the capital unawed by his presence, evinces the confidence which he must have felt in the goodwill, if not in the affections, of his subjects. Moreover, he had previously sent back his northern army vsdth presents to their homes, thus * Harl. MSS. 433, p. 108, quoted in S. Turner's Middle Ages, vol. iv. p. 27. L ISO KING RICIIAED THE TIIIKD. ciiAr. not, iiccossiuily, cither ungenerous or ungrateful. Fallen _ ^- . greatness, more especially when associated with inno- 1483. eeucc and youth, can scarcely fail, even among the fiercest and most selfish, to attract commiseration. Of the peers and prelates who had preferred and exalted Eichard of Gloucester to be their sovereign, not one probably had anticipated that the young prince whom they deposed would be exp(jsed to personal danger and discomfort ; and still less that he should be doomed to that miserable and mysterii ais fate which has since aroused the curiosity and the pity of centuries. Up to the day of his deposition Edward V. had been attended with all the respect and ceremony due to the heir of the Plantaiienets. But from that time no tidiuL's of him had transpired beyond his dark prison-hou-e in the Tower. Of the peers and prelates who, on the 4th of May, had knelt and paid homage to him, not one pro- bably could have told how fared it -with the unoffeudmg children of their late master, — whether they were im- mured in the dungeons of the Tower, or whether even a darker fate might have befallen them. Nor was it only in the halls of the great that the mys- terious fate of thc'young princes was a subject of interest and curiosity, but by degrees it excited general anxiety. Gradually rumours got abroad, which attributed to the darkest motives the Idiag's seclusion of his nejihews from the hght of heaven. Since the day <.:^i IvichaixVs corona- tion, the young princes had been beheld by no lunnau eye but those of their keepers and attendants. Accord- ingly, in many places, and especially hi the southern and western counties, secret meetings were held witli the object orellecting their release from imprisonment, and, if ])ossible, of restoring yoimg Edward to the throne of his :niceslors. Among other suggestions, it w;is proposed (hnl one or more of the daughters of the lale king should lie conveyed in disguise out of the sanctuiiry at Weslniinsler, anil transported into foreign KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 147 here in the halls of the dead Kingmaker, under the roof chai of which she was born, he received the ambassador of , — ^ Isabella of Castile, as well as the envoys of the King of 1483, France and the Duke of Burgundy, who came to con- gratulate him on his accession. On the 15th of August we find him at Coventry, on the 17th at Leicester, and on the 22nd at Nottingham. But it was reserved for the city of York to witness his crowning triumph. His visit to the ancient city was celebrated by the inhabitants with banquets, pageants, August ; and every description of rejoicing and festivity.* The clergy and the nobles seem to have vied with each other who could do him the greatest honour. Here, whether from a desire to gratify his northern friends, — whether from a yearning for popularity, or perhaps from some sounder motive of pohcy, — he caused himself to be a second time crowned. The ceremony Sept. 8. was performed in the noble cathedral by Eotheram, Archbishop of York, with scarcely less pomp and magnificence, than when Cardinal Bourchier had placed the crown on his head in the abbey of Westminster.f Eichard may possibly have been not only the miprin- cipled usurper, but the atrocious criminal, which he has * Eichard would seem to have been extremely anxious to meet with a hearty and princely reception from the city of York. Ac- cordingly, on the 23rd of August, we find his secretary, John Kendale, writing to the lord-mayor and aldermen of that important city : " This I advise you, as laudably as your wisdom can imagine, to receive him and the queen at his coming, as weU with pageants and with such good speeches, as can goodly, this short warning considered, be devised ; and imder such form as Master Lancaster, of the king's council, this bringer shall somewhat advertise you of my mind in that behalf; as in hanging the streets, through which the king's grace shall come, with cloths of arras, tapestry-work and other, for there come many southern lords and men of worship with them, which wiU mark greatly your receiving their graces." Brokers Ebor. p. 116. t Hall's Chron. p. 380 ; Buck in Kennet, vol. i. p. 527; Drake's Eboracum, p. 117. L 2 152 KING RICHARD TIIK THIRD. CHAP, wealth and honour, — should league himself with his _yj . deadliest focH, and, to use the kin^^'s own expressive 14»3. words, prove the "most untrue creature hviug," * appears to liave w(JLUided :nid disturljed the usurper more than any other event of his life. Hollow, indeed, did it prove the ground to be on which he stood. If Buckingham could desert him, wlm, of all the others who had sworn fideUty to him on his coronation day, were likely to pro\e more grateful or more true? Henceforth it was evident that safety and success must depend upon his own watchful sagacity, his in- domitable courage and masteily talents. Buckingham's apostasy has been attributed to dif- ferent motives. According to some accomits he Avas dissatisfied with the manner in which liis services had been rewarded ; accoriiing to others, he aimed at the deposition of Eichard and gaining the croAvn for liim- self. Little more than three months had elapsed since he had cheerfully carried the white stafi'at the corona- tion of Eichard ; httle more than two months since, ni)i)arently on the most loving terms, they had bidden iarewell to each other at Gloucester. Assuredly diis Avas a xerj short period to revolutionize the principles and poUcyeven of the most mercurial of statesmen and tlie falsest of friends. The probability we consider to be — and the supposition accords with the state of reac- tion in the public mind in favour of the yoiuig princes, — that the principal, if not the sole, cause of Bucking- ham's defalciifion, A\as that which he himself assigned to ]\Iorton, Bishoji of Ely, at Brecknock. " "When," he said, " I was credibly informed of the death of the two young iimocimts, liis (Eicliard's) own natural nephcAvs, contrary (o his faith and jiromise, — to the which, God * LcltiT IVoni llic kiiiR to llu- I.. Mil Cliniicfllor Russell, Bishop of I-inciilii, (liilfcl l.inculn, llJlli Oololu'i-. — Kciiiui's ConijiUii- Hist.\oLi. J). U:\'^, null', 1483 KING EICHAED THE THIKD. 149 solemnly created his son Prince of Wales and Earl of chai Chester. And yet, less than seven months from that day of triumph, the innocent object of aspirations so high, and of greatness so ill-gotten, was numbered with the dead. Hitherto Eichard's conduct from the time of his ac- cession had been not only blameless, but laudable. His progress had everywhere been marked by popular and beneficent acts. The anxiety which he showed to re- dress the wrongs of his subjects, and to insure an im- partial administration of the laws, has been especially recorded. "Thanked be Jesu," writes the secretary Kendale, " the king's grace is in good health, as is like- wise the queen's grace : and in all their progress have been worshipfuUy received with pageants and other, &c. &c. ; and his lords and judges, in every place, sitting determining the complaints of poor folks, with due punition of ofienders against his laws." * Hitherto also his progress, Hke his reign, had been prosperous and tranquU. On his arrival at Lincoln, however, rumours appear to have reached him which Oct. 12. occasioned him the deepest anxiety. Although the nobles and prelates of England, whether from fear or from motives of pohtical expediency, had preferred Eichard of Gloucester to be their sovereign, there must necessarily have been many among them who were indebted either for their coronets or their mitres to the great king whom they had so recently followed to the tomb, and to whom therefore the welfare of his unoffending offspring must hav.e been a matter of in- terest. Men, in that turbulent age, may have set httle value on human hfe. They may have been fierce in their revenge, and unscrupulous in seizing the property of their adversaries ; but, on the other hand, they were * Drake's Ebor. p. 116. L 3 154 KING BICIIAllD THE THIRD. CHAP, but at oiK'c set tlie opinion of the world at defiance, ^1^ by ackuowli'dging that liis unhappy nephews had 1483. passed away i'i(jni the earth.* Certainly, if he sought to silence the clamour and stKie the plots of the partisans of the young princes, by demonstrating to them how idle it was tn struggle any longer for rights which the gravi; had swallowed up, the pohcy of Richard is rendered intelligible. But, on the other hand, it was scarcely less certain that the announce- ment of the prematm'e deaths of two young and unoffending children, would not only lend weight to the suspicions of foul play which were already preva- lent, but would call up a storm of indignation against which no monarch, however despotic, or insensible to the opuiion of his subjects, could expect long to contend. Such, in fat't, proved to be the result. The increasing conviction in men's minds, that the innocent prmces had met with a cruel and untimely end, excited deep and almost universal commiseration. According to the chronicler Grafton, " When the fame of this detestable act was revealed and demulged through the whole realm, there fell generally such a dolour and inwai-d sorrow into the hearts of all the people, tliat, all fear of his cruelty set aside, they in every town, street, and place, openly wept and piteously sobbed, "f Moreover, notwithstanding her former unpopularity, men's minds could scarcely fail to syniiiathize with the sorrow- stricken widow of Edward IV.. wlio only a tew months previously liad watched over the death-bed of a beloved luishand, had mourned tlie tragical fate of a brotiior and a son, and wlio was now called upon to bcwtiil tlie dcatlis of two other t'liildren, lior pride, her comfort, and her liopi'. When (ho sad tidings were conveyed * (li-.'ifliiii, vnl. ii. ]i. 1 r.) ; rnl^doro Virgil, lib. XXV. p. 69-1. f (irallou'H Cliroiik'lo, \ul. ii. ji. lU). KING EICHAED THE THIRD. 151 parts. Thus, should any " fatal mishap " have befallen ciup the young princes, the crown might yet be transmitted • i— in the direct line to the heirs of the house of York.* 1*^^- By degrees these meetings in favour of the young princes began to be more openly held and much more numerously attended. Of course, so jealous and vigilant a mpnarch as Eichard could not long be kept in igno- rance of their existence. Accordingly, he no sooner discovered the storm which was gathering than he pre- pared to encounter it with the energy and resolution which characterized him in every emergency. From the extraordinary precautions which he took to prevent the escape of the young princesses from the sanctuary at Westminster, we are inchned to think either that the male heirs of King Edward's body had already been put to death, or else that their immediate destruction had been resolved upon. According to a contemporary writer, — " The noble church of the monks at West- minster, and aU the neighbouring parts, assumed the appearance of a castle and fortress ; while men of the greatest austerity were appointed by Eichard to act as keepers thereof The captain and head of these was John Nesfield, esquire, who set a watch upon all the inlets and outlets of the monastery, so ' that not one of the persons there shut up could go forth, and no one could enter, without his permission." f The usurper was probably congratulating himself, that, by his vigorous precautions, he had averted the perils which beset his throne, when, to his exceeding astonishment, he received intelligence that the Duke of Buckingham had entered into a secret alhance with his enemies. That Buckingham, — his accomphce, his chief adviser, his friend and confidant, — he who of aU others had been most instrumental in placing the crown on his head, and on whom in return he had lavished * Croyl. Chron. Cont. p. 491. f Ibid. I- 4 lae KING RICIIABD TIIE THIRD. cii.vp. "that wc sliould k':uii to die, for I fear our days in _ -,: — . this world will not be long." * 1183. rjijjy brief (k'tiuls related by Molinet are, moreover, curiously conoborative of the more recent, but more celebrated, narrative of Sir Thomas More.f Both writers agree in their accounts of the state of dejec- tion into which the elder prince had sunk ; both agree in regard to a more important, and much disputed point, the exact date at As-hich the murders were committed. According to Sir Thoma.s More, the young princes, from the time of their uncle's usurpation, had been stripped of all the appurtenances of royalty. From that day tUl the " traitorous deed " was accomphshed, the young kmg anticipated the worst. '"Alas!" he is said to have exclauned, "would that mine uncle would let me have my hfe, though I lose my kingdom!" Immured together in close confinement, deprived of the famiUar faces of their former attendants, guarded by common gaolers, and with only one grim attendant, • Chroniques de Jean Molinet, in Buchon's Cliron. Xat. Franc. torn. xliv. p. 402. In a contemporary letter, dated 21st June 14^3, tlie younger prince is described as being, " blessed be Josu, merry." Excerp. Hist. p. 17. f That Sir Thomas More's Histoiy of King Eichar-d TIT. i? highly tinged by party prejudice, and that many errors and inaccuracies are to be found in it, it would be useless to deny. XevcrtheJess, the work must always be held of great authority and importance, not only from the circumstance of Sir Thomas having liyod so near to the times of which he wrote, and from the oxoellent moans which he had of acquiring the truest information, but because it is impos- sible to believe Ihiit llie greal and upriglit lord-chancellor — he who suffered martyrdom for the sake of religion — would knowingly and willingly I'alsify historical truth. Mon', as is well known, was in liis youth in the household of l^ishop (atlerwanls Oai\linal) I\birt(>n ; and from this ami other circumstances, it has somerimes been supposed thai the cardinal, in I'aet, was the author of the work, nnil More merely the transeriber. .Vfler all, however, this is little more llian conjeelnre. JSee lluek in Kcunet, vol. i. pp. 5 U)-7 ; Sir Henry I'lllis's I'rrliu'O to llardyng's Chronicle ; Notes and Queries, vol. i. p, U)5, 2iid Si'ries. KING KICHAED THE THIRD. 153 be my judge, I never agreed nor condescended, — liow chap. my body trembled, and how my heart mwardly grudged ! . ^- Insomuch that I so abhorred the sight, and much more 1*83. the company of him, that I could no longer abide in his court, except I should be openly revenged. The end whereof was doubtful, and so I feigned a cause to depart ; and with a merry countenance and a despite- ful heart, I took my leave humbly of him ; he thinking nothing less than that I was displeased, and so re- turned to Brecknock."* As Buckingham was uncle by marriage to the young princes, and as, at this time, he was by far the most powerful subject in the reahn, his secession from the cause of the usurper was naturally of the utmost importance to the conspirators. The time, however, for open insurrection had yet to arrive. Very diiferent from what we might have antici- pated was the conduct of Eichard, when apprized that his subjects suspected him of foul play towards his nephews and more than murmured their indigna- tion. Presuming the. young king and his brother to have been stiU. in existence, surely the true poHcy of Eichard was to have led them forth into the open hght of heaven ; or, at all events, to have satisfied his subjects, by the testimony of unprejudiced eye- witnesses, that they were still hving and in safe and honourable keeping. For instance, when, only a few years later, the world whispered that Hemy VII. had secretly put to death the last male heir of the Plantage- nets, Edward Earl of Warwick, Henry at once srlenced the scandal by causing him to be brought, on a Sunday, "throughout the principal streets of London, to be seen by the people." f Eichard, on the contrary, not only took no steps to give the He to popular clamom-, * Grafton's Cont. of More, vol. ii. p. 127. f Lord Bacon in Kennet, vol. i. p. 585. 158 KINO BICIIAED THE TIIIKD. CHAP. P. Richard. IIow does your lordship 7 J • , P. Kdiranl. Well, good brother Richard ; 1183. IIow docs yduiMcir? Yflu t(]ld me your head ached. P. liichiin/. Indoid it docH, my lord 1 feel with your hands IIow hot it is 1 P. Kdu'iird. Lidreil you liuvc caught cold, With sitting yesternight to hear me read ; I pray thee go to bed, sweet Dieic ! poor little heart ! P. Bichdid. You'll give me leave Ui wait upon your lordship? P. Edward. I had more need, brother, to wait un you ; For you are sick, and so am ncjt I. P. Richard. Oh, lord I methinks this going to our bed, How like it is to going to oiu- grave. P. Edward. I pi-ay thee do not speak of graves, sweet heart ; Lideed thou fi-ightest me. P. Richard. ^Miy, my lord brother, did not our tutor teach us, That when at night we went unto oui- lied, ^Ve still should think we went unto our grave 7 P. Edward. Yes, tliat is true, If we should do as every Christian ought To be prepared to die at every hour. But I am heavy. y. Richard. Indeed so am I. P. Edicard. Then let us to our prayers and go to bed. Hei/tcood's King Edward IV. Part II. Act iii. So. 5. Presuming that due confidence is to bo placed in the confession said to liave been made by Sir James Tp-rell in tlic following reign, Eichard was on his northern progress, and was approaching the neighbom-hood of Gloucester, when, for the first time, he allowed his cruel intentions, in regard to his ne})hews, to transpire. At this time the constable of the Tower was his former fi'iend and devoted adherent, Sir Eobert Brakeubury. To Brakenbury, accordingly, the king despatched one of liis creatures, John Green, furnishing him with ■vvritteu orders to tlie conslable lo put the two princes to deiith; the whii'li John Green, wh' are (old, "thd his errand unto r.nikenbury, kneeling before our Lady in tlie Tower." Ill the mean lime the king had advanced as far as Warwick, when' he was subsequently rejoined by his V. 1483? KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 155 to her in the sanctuary, so grievously, we are told, was chap, she " amazed with the greatness of the cruelty," that she fell on the groxmd in a swoon, and was apparently in the agonies of death. On recovering herself, Eliza- beth, in the most pitiable manner, called upon her children by name ; bitterly reproaching herself for having been induced to dehver up her youngest son into the hands of his enemies, and wildly invoking the vengeance of heaven on the heads of the murderers of her beloved ones. When, a few months afterwards, Eichard was bowed to the earth by the death of his only and beloved child, men, in that superstitious age, naturally traced his great affliction to the execra- tions of that agonized mother. The earliest writer, who professes to furnish any details relating to the fate of the young princes, is Jean Mohnet, a contemporary, who died in 1507. With few exceptions, the accounts which foreigners give of events which have occurred in England must be received with caution, if not with mistrust. Mohnet, however, as hbrarian to Margaret of Austria and historiogra- pher to the house of Burgundy, may be presumed to have been in a position to collect tolerably ac- curate information of what was transpiring at the court of Eichard. According to his account, the young king, impressed with a conviction of the murderous intentions of his uncle, sank into a state of deep melancholy. The younger prince, on the contrary, is described as not only cheerful and gay, but as enhvening their prison-room with the sports and gambols of child- hood, and endeavouring to raise the spirits of his elder brother by his innocent hilarity. Attracted apparently by the bright insignia of the order of the Garter, which the young king was still allowed to wear, the child, during his capers about the apartment, is said to have inquired of his brother why he did not learn to dance. " It were better," rephed the elder brother, ICO KIN(i RICIIAED TIIK THIRD. CHAP, place (.'Veil in those on whom he had heaped the greatest .^ ,: . I'avoui's, induced the f»ii;_re to address himself to his lta3. royal master. He knew a man, he said, who was lying on a pallet in the outer chamber, who at all hazards would execute his grace's pleasure. The individual to whom he alluded was Sir' James 'J'ynell, a man who had achieved a high re])utati(jn for personal coura^^e, but whose estimate of the value of human life, and of the importance of vuluous actions, was clearly of the lowest stamp. Like Sir Eichard liatcliffe and CatesVjy, he had been a follower and a friend of the usurper in former days. To his extreme mortification he had seen those persons pi'eferred to higher favours or higher posts than had fallen to his own share ; and, accord- ingly, jealousy of the success of others, as well as an innate cra-\ing for Avealth and distinction, pre- dispost'd him to become a read^- tool in the hands of his sovereign.* Well pleased with his attendant's suggestion, Richard forthwith proceeded to the outer apartment, where lay Sir James and his brother Sii* Thomas. "What, sirs," he said merrily, " be ye in bed so soon?" He then ordered Sir James to follow him into his own chamber, where he imparted to him the terrible purpose for which he required his sorvicos. The commission is said to have been accepted without the shglitest hesitation. Accordhigly, ou the following (lay Tyrrell set out for London, carrying AAnth him a written order from the king to Sir Ivobert Braken- bury to deliver up the keys of the Tower to Tyrrell for a single night. f Ilaving made the necessary conuuunication to Bra- kenliuiy, Tyrrell fixed upon "the night next ensuing" as the lillesl time for carrying out his terrible purpose. The shedding ol' blood might obviously have led to tlie (Iclcclioii of his projected guilt, and it was probably for • Sir 'l\ I\I,.r.''M i;iili:ir.l 111. pp. l:.>8-i). t ll'id. pp. I'J'.t .'!0. KING EICHAED THE THIED. 157 William Slaughter, or " Black Will," as he was styled, chap. to wait upon them*, — the misery of two youths so ~- — ^ — highly bom and so dehcately nurtured may be more ■'■'*^^' readily imagined than described. According to tradi- tion, the stronghold in which the young princes were immured, after their removal from the state apartments in the Tower of London, is that which is so famiharly known as the Bloody Tower, the same which, six years previously, had witnessed the death-scene of the un- happy Clarence. P. Edivard. Yet before we go, One question more with you, master lieutenant. We like you well ; and, but we do perceive More comfort in your looks than in these walls. For all our uncle Gloster's friendly speech Our hearts would be as heavy still as lead. I pray you tell me at which door or gate Was it my uncle Clarence did go in. When he was sent a prisoner to this place ? Brahenbury. At this, my liege ! Why sighs your "majesty ? P. Edward. He went in here that ne'er came back again ! But as God hath decreed, so let it be ! Come, brother, shall we go ? P. Richard. Yes, brother, anywhere with you. Seywood's King Edward IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2. Immured in this gloomy prison-house, the two brothers are described as clinging together in the vain hope of finding comfort in each other's embraces ; as neglecting their dress, and anticipating with childhood's horror the dark doom which awaited them. " The prince," says Sir Thomas More, " never tied his points nor aught wrought of himself ; but with that young babe, his brother, Hngered in thought and heaviness, till a traitorous death dehvered them of that wretched- ness." f * Sir T. More, Plist. of Richard III. p. 130. t Ibid. 102 KING BICnAKD THE TIIIED. CHAP. " Tyrrell. The tyrannous and bloody act is done ; ^'- The iiiiiHf arch deed of piteous muKsacre 1483. '^''"^' '^''^'■'' y^*- ''"" '"'"^ '"''"' &^'''y ''^■ Dighton !ind FoneHt, whom I did suborn To do this piece of ruthlcHH bulcljery, Albeit they were fleshed villains, bloody dogs, Melting with tenderness and mild coiiij)a6.>iiJii, Wept like to children, in their death's sad story. ' O thuN,' quoth Dighton, ' lay the gentle babes ; ' — ' Thus, thuH,' quoth Fon'CBt, ' girdling one another Within their alabaster innocent arms ; Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, And, in their summer beauty, kissed each other. A book of prayers on their pillow lay ; Wliich once,' quoth Forrest, ' almost changed my mind ; But, O, the devil 1 ' — there the viUain stfipped ; 'Wlicn Dighton thus told on : ' We smothered The most replenished sweet work of nature. That, from the prime creation, e'er she framed.' Plence both ore gone with conscience and remorse : They could not speak ; and so I left them both, To bear this tidings to the bloody king." King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 3. In accordance with the orders issued by Sir James Tyrie'U to Dighton and Forrest, the young princes are said to have been interred " at the stau'-foot, inetely deep in the ground, under a great heap of stones."* One might have imagined that, so long as their graves disclosed no secrets, Eichard would have troubled him- self but httle in regard either to the mode or the place of his nephews' burial. On the contrary, however, lie is said to litive exliibited a strange displeasmv at no greater respect having been shown to theii* remains, and to have e\en given tirders for their being disinterred and placed in eonseerated ground. " Whereupon," says Sir Tlioiuas More, "tliey say a priest of Sir Eobert Biakenbury's took up the bodies agtiin and secretly inteifed tlieni in sut'li place as, by the occasion of bis yoijii;^ pnncM'H wire troati'd ns prisoners. Chi-oniqvies, p. 102. The (laics, llicrerdrc, assigiu'd by these tluvo writers, very nearly agree. * Sir 'I'. More, Hist. „f IJiehaixl 111. p. 131. KING KICHAED THE THIKD. 159 emissary Green.* The answer which the latter brought chap. him from Brakenbury occasioned him great displeasure, v — ; — The constable, it seems, had more gentleness in his 1^^^- nature than to commit so foul a crime, and, accordingly, had peremptorily, though doubtless respectfully, refused to obey the orders of his king. That night, as the king paced his apartment in the noble castle of Warwick, he was unable to conceal the perturbation of his mind from the favourite page who was in attendance on him. Some querulous remarks which escaped him, intimating how httle trust he could * Sir T. More, Hist, of Eichard III. pp. 127-8. There seems to be no difficulty in fixing the date of Green's mission as the beginning of August. The king reached Reading shortly after the 23rd of July ; made a short stay at Oxford ; proceeded from thence to Gloucester, and eventually reached Tewkesbury on the 4th of August. Before the 8th of August he was at Warwick. Green, though Lord Bacon speaks of him as a " page," was probably a gentleman of good family, holding not the menial appointment of a page of the chamber, but that of an esquire of the body, which would place him in immediate attendance on the person of his sovereign. For instance, in the ordinances for the government of the household of Edward IV., we find esquires of the body denoted as " noble of condition, whereof always two be attendant upon the king's person, to array and unarray him," &c. — Royal Household Ordinances, p. 36. Again, in the reign of Henry VII. : " The esquires of the body ought to array the king, and unarray him, and no man else to set hand on the king ; and if it please the king to have a pallet without his traverse, there must be two esquires for the body, or else a knight for the body, to lie there, or else in the next chamber." — Ibid. p. 118. The duties of the page, on the contrary, appear to have been those of the commonest menial. " Pages of the chamber [temp. Edward IV.], besides the both wardrobes, to wait upon and to keep clean the king's chamber, and most honest from faults of hounds, as of other ; and to help truss, and clean harness, cloth, sacks, and other things necessary, as they be commanded by such as are above them," &c. — Ibid. p. 41. That a person, whose province it was to discharge these mean offices, should not only have been admitted by Eichard to familiar inter- course with him, but that he should have been selected to be the confidant of his terrible intentions, appears to be in the highest degree improbable. 104 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. pointed out as having been their prison-house, and at tbe " stair-foot " of which gossip still idly indicates that their remains \vei\; eventually discovered.* But to ■whomsoever those rehcs of huinanity may have be- longed, it seems evident they were those of no ordinary persons, and, moreover, that they were the remains of persons who had met with a vicjlent end. In those days, it may be mentioned, there was a direct com- munication between the royal apartments at the south- cast angle of the fortress, and the state apartments, and the chapel in the White Tower. It was appa- rently, then, at the foot of the very stairs, — which, when the sovereign held his court in the Tower, he was daily in the habit of ascending for the pui-pose of offering up his devotions in the chapel royal — that the remains were discovered. That such a spot should have been selected for the interment of the dead, — unless for the pui-pose of preserving a weighty secret and conceahng a fearfid crime, — it would be diiBcult, we thmk, to imagine. To what other conclusion, then, can we reasonably arrive, but that the bones, which were discovered and exliumed in the seventeenth centiuy, were no other than those of the murdered sons of King Edward TV. ? It may be mentioned that Charles II. caused them to be collected and placed in a sarcophagus of white marble, which may be seen in the south aisle of Henry VII.'s chapel at Westminster. * On the ground floor of tlie Wliito Tower, immediately below the chape], are three apartments, on the walls of which ni.iy still be seen more than one interesting inscription, engraved by the unhappy prisoners who formerly tenanted them. These apai'tinents, from their having almost adjoined the jinlutial chambei-s of the fortress, .nnd al>(o from their elese vicinity to the spot in which the bodies were discDVcred, were not impossibly those in which the pniioos were' imprisoiied and murdered, (.'ert.'iinlv, it was not till the latter end of the i-eip:n of Klizabclh, lliat (ho IJloody Tower received its in'csent iiiiiiie. It had previously been styled the Giwden Tower. llMyleyV Tower of Loiuloii, p. :.'[)7. 'See Appendix B. KING KICHAED THE THIED. 161 this reason that he decided on the safer method of ghap. sufTocating the young princes in their sleep. In the . — ; — mean time, Tyrrell had contrived to secure the services 1*^^- of two ferocious adepts in viUany, one John Dighton, his ovra horsekeeper, a " big, broad, square, and strong knave," and one Miles Forrest, a "fellow beforetime fleshed in murder." In the dead of the night, these two miscreants stole into the apartment in which the two young princes lay together in the same bed. The younger prince is said to have been awake at the time. Guessing the horrible purpose of the intruders, he roused his brother, exclaiming, " Wake, brother, for they are here who come to kill thee ! " Then turn- ing to the executioners, — " Why do you not kill me ? " said the child : " kiU me, and let him live ! " * The appeal was made in vain. In an instant, the innocent heirs of the proudest house which ever held sway in England were wrapped and entangled in the bed- clothes. Then came the painful ■ climax described by Sir Thomas More, — the assassins pressing the feather- bed and pdlows over the mouths of their victims, tiU, " smothered and stifled and their breath faihng, they gave up to God their innocent souls unto the joys of heaven, leaving to their tormentors their bodies dead in the bed." f The murderers then called in their em- ployer, in order that he might satisfy himself that the work of death was complete. TyrreU waited only to give orders respecting the interment of the princes, and then rode in aU haste to his royal master at York. J * Ckroniques de Molinet, ut supra, p. 402. t Sir T. More's Eichard III. pp. 130-1. I From the statement of Sir Thomas More, as well as from a comparison of dates, the crime would seem to have been committed about the middle of August. Ecus (Hist. Eeg. Ang. p. 215) intimates that it took place somewhat more than three months after Eichard had waited on the young king at Stony Stratford (viz. the 30th of April), and Molinet at five weeks from the time that the M 160 KING EICHARD THE THIED. liiivo borne a remarkable resemblance to the beautiM prince wliom lie cluinicMl to have been his father; that he should have won the favour of the people of Ireland, and that the nobles of England should have raised their standards in his cause ; that the lord-cham- berlain, Sir WilHam Stanley, the wealthiest subject in England and connected by marriage with Henry VTL, should not only have embarked in it, but have suffered death in consequence on the scaffold ; and, lastly, that the Duchess of Burgundy, the sister of the late king, shoidd not only have received Warbeck with all honour at her court, but have acknowledged him as her nephew in the face of Europe, — are facts which not only con- tinue to excite ciu-iosity and investigation in our own time, but seem, at one period, to have raised doubts, if not apprehensions, even in the mind of Henry himself.* But curious as these arguments undoubtedly are, they may be met by others equally weighty. If Charles of France acknowledged Warbeck to be the rightful heir to the throne of England, let it be remembered that it was at a time when it was clearly his object to distress and embarrass Henry, and further that, when that motive ceased to exist, he at once repudiated the adventurer. Neither is it clear that the conduct of James of Scotland was altogether disintorested.f Cer- * See Carte's Hist, of Engl. vol. ii. p. 854, &c.; Historic Doulits, Lord Orford's Works, vol. ii. p. 155, ic. ; Laiug's Dissertation in Henry's Hist, of England, vol. xii. p. 431, App. ; Bajloy's Hist, of the Tower of London, p. 335, &c. f EUis's Orig. Letter.s, First Series, vol. i. p. '2(< : Pinkerton's Hist, of Scotl. vol. ii. pp. 2, 26. Tytler seems to be of opinion that James was accessory to AVarluck's imposition at a mneh earlier period than has been usually supposed, and although at the time he bi/Hrvcd him to be an adventurer, yet he was aiKnwards induced to chaiif^o his opinion. Hist, of Sooll. vol. iii. p. 47 I. A contempo- rary wriler, inorciiver, wliose aulhorily is of value, tends to confirm tlic Hiipposition that .lanu's, at one iicriod at least, believed AVai'beck to be till' g(Muiinel)iik<' of York. " lve.\ errore deeeptns, ut plerique alii, etiaiu priidentissinii." — Jl. Aiidraif, Vila lien. VII. p. 70. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 163 death which only knew it, could never since come to chap. light." * More than two centuries passed away from . ^- the date of their death, when, in the reign of Charles II., 1483. in " taking away the stairs which led from the royal lodgings to the chapel of the White Tower" f there were discovered, about ten feet ia the ground, on the south side of the White Tower, the remains of two human beings, corresponding in sex and age with what might be presumed to be those of the murdered princes. J Either, then, the king's orders were for some reason disobeyed, and consequently the spot in which the remains were found was the original " stair- foot " in which Dighton and Forrest deposited them ; or else, which is more probable, the persons, who were intrusted with the second interment of the unfortunate princes, considered the staircase leading to the chapel royal as no less consecrated ground than the chapel itself, and thus in spirit carried out the king's injunc- tions, by burying them beneath it. The further fact of the bodies having been dis- covered at the foot of the staircase leading from the royal apartments to the chapel royal, is not without its significance. Tradition, as we have already mentioned, points out the Bloody Tower as having witnessed the death-scene of the innocent princes. Prom their high rank, however, we are more inclined to think that they perished in one of the royal apartments of the Tower or in some chamber close adjoining them, than in the miserable dungeon which is still » Sir T. More's Kichard IH. p. 132. t Wren's Parentalia, p. 283. j Sandford's Geneal. Hist, book v. pp. 427-9. Sandford re- ceived his account of the disinterment from an eye-witness who was engaged in the investigation. The discovery took place in 1674. In "Wren's Parentalia (p. 283) wiU be foimd the warrant from Charles II. to Sir Christopher Wren, then surveyor of the works, to reinter the bones, in " a white marble coffin," in Westminster Abbey. M 2 168 KINO EICHAED THE THIED. of Henry, appcurH to have been the Earl of Warwick, who, idler tlio death of his uncle, King Eichard, had become the last ni;de heir of the great house of Plantagenct.* If the pretensions of Warwick had formerly been regarded in so formidable a Hght, both by Edward IV. and Richard III., that they kept him either closely watched or else in durance, how much greater apprehension were they calculated to inspire in the mind of a monarch who owed his cro^vn neither to blood nor to election, but to the hateful pretext of conquest, and to a marriage which he had offensively postponed from time to time ! At the period when Warbeck appeared on the stage, the government of Henry VH. had become extremely unpopular among the aristocratic and commercial classes in England, and still more unpopular with the clergy. By the former, Henry's defective title to the throne, liis spurious descent from John of Gaunt and Catherine Swynford, the questionable legitimacy of his queen, and the blood of the obscure and obnoxious WoodviUes which flowed in her veins, seem to have been regarded as unpardonable offences. In the eyes of the high-born partisans of the house of York, Henry's only title to the crown was derived from his queen, and, moreover, in the opinion of many persons, that title was a very obnoxious one. On the other hand, the Earl of Warwick could boast an irreproachable descent in the male line, from a long and illustrious race of kings. In him wore centred the pure blood of the Plantagenets, the Beauchamps, and the NeviUes. But Warwick was unhappilj" a prisoner in the hands of Henry, and, consequeutiy, any pubUc * Lord Bacon, Hpcakiiig oJ' rinnilu'it Simnol, obsorvos: "And for lln' pcTMciii of llu' I'oiintt'rri'it, il was agroi'd tliat, if all things mii'cccdcd well, he should lie imt down, and the tvui' Plant«genet r(((iv(^d." — Life <}/ Ihiiri/ VII. in Keiiiift, vol. i, p. ;)8G. Doubt- ]c«H il. waH inli'iidcd to ]nirsnr thv .sinie I'tmvso towards Perkia Wurbuuk, in tho L'vcut of Iuh ontoi'iiriso proving successful. le.i CHAP. VI. 'HE GOOD DEEDS AND THE REMORSE OF RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER. ^NY ingenious attempts have been made to relieve chap. e character of Richard III. from so atrocious a crime . ^^- the murder of his nephews. Of the arguments which 1483. ve been adduced in his favour, the most important 3 those which tend to support the presumption that least one, if not both, of the two princes escaped )m the Tower, and that the individual who afterwards ;ured so conspicuously, under the name of Perkin arbeck, was in reahty Eichard Duke of York. Unquestionably, the story of that mysterious adven- rer, if adventurer he were, merits inquiry and con- leration. That an obscure youth should have found jans to shake one of the most powerful thrones in irope ; that the kings of France and of Scotland ould not only have acknowledged him to be the heir the throne of England, but should have caressed d entertained him at their courts with aU the nours due to sovereign heads ; that the Scottish march should have been so satisfied that his guest IS the real Duke of York, that he gave him in marriage i beautiful and near kinswoman, the Lady Katherine )uglas, and invaded England with an army for the rpose of placing him on the throne of the Planta- tiets ; that the putative son of a Belgian Jew should t only have been gifted with a dignity of mien and a inement of manner which were admitted and admired 3n by the most fastidious, but that his features should M 3 170 KINO EICIIAED THE THIRD fession, jointed by command of Henry, is to be re- garded as an imptalciit fabrication, — Warbeck liimself unhesitatingly admitted that he was an impostor.* It has been argued, tliat Henry's remissness in collecting and publisliing proofs of Warbeck's imposition, fur- nislies presumptive evidence either that the English monarch had no case at aU, or else that it was so weak a one that he was afraid to submit it to the judgment of his subjects. But if Henry, after aU his inquiries, really beheved that Warbeck was the true Duke of York, would so merciless a monarch, as he is usually represented to have been, have spared the hfe of his foe, when on two different occasions he held him in his power ? If Henry had scrupled not to send his iriend and benefactor, Sir William Stanley, to the block for abetting the pretensions of Warbeck, is it likely that he would have shown greater mercy to Warbeck liimself? If he beheved in the truth of Warbeck's story, would he have exposed him to the curious and pitying gaze of the citizens of London ? Would he twice have exhibited in the pubhc stocks the handsome youth whom many hving persons must have beheld in his boyhood, the son of the magnificent monarch whose affabihty and good nature still endeared him to their hearts ? Would Heniy have allowed him to wander about for months within the precincts of the palace, liable at any moment to be recognized, and greeted as their brother, by tl\c queen date of his presumed assassination we have ventured to place in tlie middle of August 1483. See ante, p. KU, note. • The genuineness of Perkin Wavbook'.s confession has occa- Hionally been disputed. The remavkablo tact, however, pointed out by Sir Frederick Madden in (ho Archa^ologi!l, on the authority of Bernard Andreas, that the confession was actually printed at the time, of course by the .authority and licence of llcnrv, proves it to be a Htiite document of the higlicsi iniportjincc. " Kex iraprimi de- maiulavit." — /(. Amhras, Vit. Ileii. \'tL^. 14; Arch. vol. xxvii. p. KM. For Warbeck's confession, sec Hall, lip. 448, 449; Grafton, vol. ii. p. 218; and Henry's Hist, of Englimd, vol. sii. p. 392, Ap- pendi-t. KLJSGr RICHARD THE THIRD. 167 n at least it is, that Warbeck secretly covenanted to chap. liver up to Mm the important city of Berwick, and - — ,-l_ pay him fifty thousand marks in two years, in the ^^^^• ent of his succeeding in dethroning Henry.* More- er, the favour shown him by the Anglo-Irish can rdly be taken into serious account. A people who, short time previously, had crowned Lambert Simnel Christchurch Cathedral, Dubhn, with a diadem taken )m an image of the Virgin, were doubtless predis- sed to hail with enthusiasm a far more plausible and icinating pretender. Again, the fact of the Duchess Burgundy having acknowledged Warbeck as her phew, is not a little shorn of its importance by her ving formerly supported the imposture of Simnel. f 3r aversion to the new rule in England inchned her adopt any expedient that might weaken the govern- jnt of Henry YJI. The duchess, as we find Henry nself complaining in a letter to Sir Gilbert Talbot, d formerly shown her mahce " by sending hither one gned boy," and now, " eftsoons," she must needs send er "another feigned lad, called Perkin Warbeck." J Warbeck, in fact, would seem to have been merely e of a series of impostors, whom, from time to time, 3 secret machinations of a powerful and well-organ- :d faction in England called into pohtical existence, ■ the purpose of crippling and, if possible, up- )ting the Tudor dynasty. The individual, in whom jir hopes and fears were reaUy centred, and whom ;y would willingly have placed on the throne in heu ' And yet, in the declaration which Warbeck published on en- ng Northumberland with a Scottish army, we find him having confidence solemnly to call the Almighty to witness that " his rest cousin the Eang of Scotland's aiding him in person in this righteous quarrel, was without any pact or promise, or so much I demand of anything prejudicial to his crown or subjects." — •te, vol. ii. p. 849. Lord Bacon's Henry VII. in Kennet, vol. i. pp. 585-6. Ellis's Orig. Letters, First Series, vol. i. pp. 19, 20. M 4 172 KING RICIIAED THE THIRD. OHAP. But even allowing Perkin Warbeck to have been the ,_: , real Duke of Yoik, such un admission, instead of re- 1-183. lieving the memory of Eichard from the crime of murder, tends, on the other hand, we conceive, more directly to establish his guilt. For instance, if War- beck had been a true Plantagenet, surely, instead of blackening the memory of his uncle, by charging him with the foulest of crimes, he would have done his utmost to vindicate the honour of the illastrious line of which he claimed to be the representative. But what was the story which he related to the King of Scotland? From the nursery, he said, he had been carried to a sanctuary, from a sanctuary to a prison, and from a prison he had been dehvered over to the hands of the " tormentor." Thirsting for the crown of his elder brother, their " unnatural uncle," proceeded Warbeck, employed an assassin to murder them in the Tower. But the projected crime was only half completed. The young king, he said, was " cruelly slain ; " but the assassin, either sated with blood, or actuated by some more amiable motive, not only spared the hfe of the yoimger brother, but assisted him to escape beyond the sea.* The genuineness of this reputed convei-sation appears to be borne out by two very remai'kable documents, which emanated directly from Wai'beck himself. " Whereas," says Warbeck in his proclama- tion to the English people, " we, in our tender yeai-s, escaped, by God's great might, out of the Tower of London, and were secretlj^ conveyed over the sea to other divers countries. "f And again ho write;! to Isabella of Castile, — "Whereas, the Prince of Wales, eldest son of Edward, formerly Idng of England, of * Lord Bncon's Life of Henry VII. in Konnet, vol. i. p. 614 ; Iliill, p. 173; Arclia'oliii;;i,a, vol. xxvii. p. 1.")-!. ■f Ilcnry's Ilist. of EMt,'l. vol. xii. p. ;>87, where Wnvbeck's con- fcsHioii iH pi-iiilcd ul- l.'iigth from tile Birch MS. -1160, 5, collated with Ilm-1. MS. d82, lol. 1'_'8. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 169 claration of his rights, or any insurrection in his chap. ^our, would doubtless have been the signal for send- — A- l him to the scaffold. With the double object, then, ■'^*^- harassing the government of Henry, and, at the same ae, screening Warwick, were called into pohtical exist- ce, such convenient scapegoats as Lambert Simnel, xkin Warbeck, and Ealph Wilford. Should they fail, sir miscarriage would in no way have jeopardized the 3 of Warwick, whereas, had any one of them suc- eded in his enterprise, it would have been easy enough have set the impostor aside, and to have conducted e true Plantagenet from a prison to the throne.* As regards Warbeck personally, many arguments ^ght be adduced tending to the conviction that he IS an impostor. No evidence of his having been the n of Edward IV. was ever produced by him. Of ose persons, who, according to his own romantic count, either assisted him to escape from the Tower, afterwards supported him in a foreign land, not one me forward either to substantiate his tale, or to claim e reward which they had earned by having ren- red so important a service to the heir of England, lere is reason, moreover, for beheving that War- ck had his lesson less accurately by heart than has ually been supposed f ; and, lastly, — unless his con- *■ " This at least is certain," writes Lingard, " that as long as irwick lived, pretenders to the crown rapidly succeeded each er : after his execution, Henry was permitted to reign without lestation." — Hist, of Engl. vol. iv. p. 584, App. \ In a letter from Warbeck to Queen Isabella of Castile, in which rectness was of the utmost importance to him, he shows himself indifferently acquainted with the age of the individual whom he 3 personifying, as to represent himself as having been nearly nine, iead of eleven, years of age at the time when he insisted that he I escaped from the Tower. For this interesting letter and im- tant fact we are indebted to the valuable researches of Sir iderick Madden. See ArchEeologia, vol. xxvii. pp. 156, 161. 3 Duke of York was born on the 17th of August 1472. The 174 KING BICIIARD THE TIIIKD. oiiAP. eager to demonstrate so important a fact to the world. . t]- . Again, there were periods in his career when it was his 1-183. interest to prove that they were still in the land of the living. If, then, he failed to produce them, to what other conclusion can we arrive, but that his victims had ceased to exist? Many other circumstances might be adduced highly unfavourable to the presumption of King Richard's innocence. In the first place, indisputable evidence has been discovered, showing that the different per- sons, whose names are associated with the murder, received ample rewards from Eichard. Brakenbury, who, though not a principal in the crime, was imques- tionably in the secret, received numerous manors and other royal pecuniary grants. Green, the messengerwho was sent to him by the king from Gloucestershire, was appointed receiver of the lordship of the Isle of Wight, and of the castle and lordship of Porchester. Sir James Tyrrell was enriched by a variety of appointments and royal grants. John Dighton, one of the actual as- sassms, was awarded the baihifship of Aiton, in Staf- fordshire; and lastly, the other ruffian, Miles Fon-est, " the fellow fleshed in murder," was not only appointed keeper of the wardrobe in one of the royal residences, Baenard Castle, but at his death, Avhich occm-red shortly after the assassination of the yoimg princes, his widow was awarded a pension.* Again, it has been asked, why was Eichard so eager to obtain possession of the person of the young Duke of York, unless he mteuded to sacrifice him to liis ambition ? Why did the sanc- tuary at Westminster i-emain unwatchod so long as the young princes were known to bo ahvo ; and why, at the very time wlien it \vas publicly rumoured that the young princes were no nn^v, was it suddenly placed in a slate oi' siege Pj" A simple answer suggests itself, • IIiirlii;iii MSS. var. quotoil in t>. Tunicv's Middle Ages, vol. iv. ]>\^. ITiK, K;o. t Sec ante, p. 151. KING KICHAKD THE THIED. 171 her younger sisters ? Lastly, if Warbeck had been chap. important personage which he represented himself __^_: be, is it possible to beheve that so stern and 1483. ous a monarch as Henry would have suffered him to so insufficiently guarded, or so carelessly watched, ■j the pretender was enabled to slip into a sanctuary jn it suited his purpose ? ?he real fact appears to have been that, however jatening at its outset was Warbeck's conspiracy, it I confined, in England and Ireland at least, within sh narrower hmits than has usually been supposed, ten once apprized of the real extent, or rather of the gnificance of the danger, we find Henry treating the tensions of Warbeck — the garqon, as he twice styles L in his communications with the court of France — h the utmost unconcern and contempt.* To this tempt, — added perhaps to a wise disincHnation on part of the king to convert an impostor into a rtyr, as weU as to the singular interest which both iry and his queen seem to have taken in Warbeck's utifid wife, the Lady Catherine, — the pretender was bably indebted for the clemency, which, as a no- ous and convicted rebel, he had httle reason to icipate. It was not tUl Henry had ascertained that xbeck was carrying on a secret correspondence with Earl of Warwick, the only person whose pretensions the crown he had reason to dread ; not till he dis- ered the experienced and accomphshed adventurer tting with the last male heir of the house of Plan- snet to effect their escape from the Tower and to vert his government, — that the sternest of the iors handed over his rival to the executioner. ;n, indeed, he sent Warwick to suffer an honourable th by the axe on Tower Hill, leaving Warbeck to ish on the common gibbet at Tyburn. * ArchKologia, vol. xxvii. pp. 165, 167. 17G KINO EICIIARD THE TIIIED. CHAP, known ; " but, on the other hand, he substantiates the- — ^^^ . soniewliat kxtcr authority of Sir Thomas More, that the 1183. Tower was the scene of their death, and, moreover, mentions Sir James Tyrrell as the chief agent of Eichard in cai'rying out his atrocious project.* Andreas, on the other hand, distinctly affirms that Eichard caused his nephews to be put to death with the sword.f It may be argued and objected that tliese two writers were courtiers, and that Polydore Virgil wrote his history expressly at the desire of Henry VII., whom it was his object to flatter and please. But it must also be remembered that Polydore Virgil had conversed with many of the principal persons who were aUve at the time of King Eichard's accession, and had every fa- cility of obtaining the most accurate information- The reigning queen, moreover, as the sister of the mur- dered princes, would naturally take a deep interest in any historical work which was likely to perpetuate her brothers' melancholy story. If the story, then, was merely an idle fiction, — nay, unless it had been commonly credited by the best informed pei-sons at the time, — would Polydore Virgil have confidently published it to the world? or would he have nar- rated to the queen a pathetic story of the fate of her own brothers, which, if false, could scarcely fail to be most offensive to her ? Is it hkely that the Duke of Bucldngham, and the other noble persons who were associated with him in rebeUion, would have risked their lives and estates in the cause of the Princess EUzabeth, unless they had been completely satisfied that her brothers hatl ceased to exist? T-astly, unless King Eicliard had been convinced beyond all doubt lliat the work of murder had been completed, and that coiisequeutly Elizabeth had become the true and indubitable heiress to tlie throne, is it likely tliat so • I'olyilorc Virpil, lib. xxv. p. (iOI. f " CImiii fVlTo H'riri jiissit." — ]'itii Ihiir. Sfpl- p. -''• KING EICHAED THE THIRD. 173 US memory, my dearest lord and brother was mise- chap. ly put to death, and I myself, then nearly nine years . ^-:_ ige, was also delivered to a certain lord to be kiUed : ^*^^- t] it pleased the divine clemency, that that lord, ing compassion on my innocence, preserved me 'e and in safety."* Admitting, then, the truthful- s of Warbeck's statement, to what other conclusion . we arrive than that Eichard contemplated the rder of both his nephews, although he was virtually murderer only of one ? The blood of only one Y have been actually on his head, but, according to iry principle human and divine, the crime was not less heinous because by accident it was only par- ly completed. The remaining arguments, which tend to substantiate guilt of Eichard, admit of being more concisely estigated and more hastily dismissed. If, it may be uired, Eichard was really innocent, what was the ual fate of the two brothers? That they were ahve, I inmates of the Tower, at the time of his accession, i a doubt can exist. What, then, became of them ? ;hard alone had the charge and custody of their sons. As their nearest male relation, as their uncle, iheir guardian, as the chief of the State and the ntain of justice, it was his bounden duty not only to itect them from wrong, but to produce their persons required ; or, at all events, satisfactorily to account their disappearance from the eye of man and from light of heaven. No hving being, except by his )ress injunctions, would have dared to lift a finger mst them. Ko Hving being, apparently, had any in- 3st in destroying them but himself. Moreover, the gues of men, not only at home, but at foreign courts, rged him with the crime of murder, yet he took no )s to prove his innocence. Had his nephews died a ural death, surely he would have been only too * Archseologia, vol. xxvii. p. 156. I7H KINd RICIIAKD THE THIRD. CHAP, of Ricliard. Tlic protector, as wc have seen, arrested, -—X*^— find, in the first instance, imprisoned him in the Tower, 1 '^^- tliough he subsequently committed liim to the milder custody of the Duke of Buckingham. . It was doubtless during the time that the bishop was residing under liuckingham's hospitable roof at Breck- nock, that he contrived, by his arguments and persua- sions, to wean his powerful host from his allegiance to King Eichard. No sooner was Buckingham prevailed upon to turn traitor, than their plans were speedily matured. The line of pohcy which they resolved to adopt was as simple as it was wise. By the death of her Ul-fated brothers, the Princess Elizabeth had become the lineal representative of the house of York. But, however indisputable might have been her title to the throne, her sex, and her close alliance by blood to the un]iopular WoodvUles, rendered it improbable that her claims would meet with favour beyond the walls of Brecknock. As Bucldngham observed to Bishop Morton, — " I called an old proverb to remembrance, which says, ' Woe to that kingdom where children rule and women govern ! ' " * The conspirators, therefore, turned their at- tention to Henry Earl of Eichmond, who, by right of liis mother, was, in the eyes of the partisans of the house of Lancaster, the head of that fallen house. The project of uniting the princess to the young carl appeai-s to have emanated from the bishop. To the duke he proposed, that, in the event of their obtauiing the joint con- currence of the queon-dowager and the Countess of Eichmond, the cnnvn shoidd be ollered to Henry on the express condition of his guaranteeing to make tlio princess his wife. Thus, argued the bishop, the rival lioiisrs of York and TiUncaster will hereafter be united by till' closest l.ii's oi' ri'lationship. Thus a termination will be ]nit lo those cruel and unnatural ecMitests, wliich for so many yrnrs lia\e delnged I'ngland with blood, * Kcniu'l, vol. i. ]\ 503. KING EICHABD THE THIED. 175 ,hat, by the death of her brothers, the princess chap. . become the rightful possessor of the throne ; that _ / „ escape to the continent, and her marriage with the 1^83. i of Eichmond, might have proved fatal to Eichard's ver ; and consequently that it was of the utmost )ortance to him to secure her person, or, at all mts, to prevent her ilight. yioreover, unhke the majority of the fearful crimes ich have been attributed to Eichard III., the story of : murder of the young princes is clearly no invention those later chroniclers who Avrote to flatter the preju- es of the Tudor kings. Not only do contemporary iters record how general was the suspicion that they i met with an untimely end, but, as we have aheady in, dangerous conspiracies were the consequence. i. rumour was spread," says the Croyland Chronicle, hat the sons of Kuig Edward before named had died dolent death, but it was uncertain how."* Accord- ; to another contemporary, Eous, " it was afterwards own to very few by what death they suffered martyr- m."*!* Philip de Commines informs us, that so con- iced was Louis XI. that Eichard had murdered his nephews, that he " looked upon him as a cruel and eked person, and would neither answer his letters, r give audience to his ambassador. "J Fabyan, who urished as an alderman of London when London ai- rmen were of higher dignity and repute than they are our time, informs us that " the common fame went it King Eichard had within the Tower put iato secret ath the two sons of his brother, Edward TV." § istly, the evidence of Polydore Virgil and of Bernard idreas, who may be almost considered as contempo- ries, must be regarded as of some importance. The ?mer, indeed, admits, that by " what kind of death 3se sely children were executed is yet not certainly Croyl. Chron. Cont. p. 491. f Hist.' Angl. Eeg. p. 214. De Commines, tome ii. pp. 243-4. § Fabyan's Chronicles, p. 670. 180 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, to his friends in England. A cordial understanding — , ^ — . was estublislicd between the principal partisans of the rival houses of York and Lancaster. An insurrection was agreed upon. The 18th of October was fixed upon by the Earl of Eichmond as the day for his setting foot in England, and on that day Buckingham undertook to raise the standard of insurrection. The greatest promptitude, and the most perfect good faith, appear to have marked the conduct of the leaders of both factions. But, secretly and ably as the conspiracy had been con- ducted, it became much too widely spread long to e-cape the vigilance of Richard. Accordingly, no sooner was he apprized of the peril which threatened his throne, than he issued orders for an immediate le^y of troops in the north, and, at the same time, summoned Buckingham to his presence. The summons was couched in fi'iendly terms, but they failed in cajoling the duke. In the mean time, the day for action arrived. The Earl of Richmond set sail from St. Malo with 5000 soldiers on board his transports. The Comlenays rose in for- midable numbers in the west of England ; the Marquis of Dorset, half-brother to the Princess Ehzabetli, pro- claimed the earl at Exeter ; her uncle, the Bishop of Sahsbury, declared for him in Wiltshire ; the gentle- men of Kent assembled, with their retainers, to pro- claim him at Maidstone ; and the gentlemen of Berk- shire met for a similar purpose at Newbury. An cntei prise, so wisely conceived and bravely com- menced, se(.'Uied to promise, no less than to merit success. C'ircumstaiiees, liowever, beyond the control of man de- stroyed the hopes of tlic conspiialoi-s. A violent tem- pest (h-ove back the Ead ol' Ivichmond and his tleet to the sliores of lirittany. Tiie fate of Buckingham was a, melancholy oiu'. On the dny appointed for the rising, lie had unfurled his banner at Brecknock, and \v;is adviiueinjf towjirds (iloueester with the intention KING EICHAED THE THIRD. 177 ate a prince would have sought to strengthen his chap. s by making her his queen, — a project which, on , ^^- becoming a widower, there seems to be httle ques- 1483. 1 that he contemplated? Doubtless, so long as :ory shall be read, the question whether Eichard , 3, or was not, guilty of the murder of his nephews, I continue to be a matter of dispute. Men wiU irpret the evidence according to their prejudices their feeUngs. For our own part, could the coroner d his inquest over those mouldering rehcs of hu- nity which were discovered at the base of the dte Tower, we cannot but think that there would forthcoming a mass of circumstantial evidence, suffi- it to convict Eichard Plantagenet, King of England, the crime of wilful murder. Lhe principal persons, associated with the Duke Buckiugham in the secret conspiracy which was ning against Eichard, were Margaret Countess of hmond, the lineal heiress and representative of the Lse of Lancaster, and Dr. Morton, Bishop of Ely, irwards Cardinal and Archbishop of Canterbury, wording to Sir Thomas More, who in his youth had n intimately associated with the latter, the bishop 1 " a man of great natural wit, very well learned, . of a winning behaviour."* He had formerly been plain to Henry VI., and had sat at the council- [e of that unhappy monarch. f Edward IV., on his 2ssion, foimd means to attach him to his interests ; arding his complaisance by retaining him as a privy ncOlor, and subsequently advancing him to the lopric of Ely. To King Edward, during his hfetime, , after the death of that monarch, to his unfortu- i sons, the bishop seems to have been sincerely devotedly attached. This devotion it was which drawn down on him the hatred and resentment * Sir T. More's Eichard III., p. 138. t Ibid. p. 140. 182 KINCi lUCIIAKD THE TIIIRD. CHAP. ;i blow was nUuck. Intimidated by the summary and __!': , tragical late ol' Buckingham, by the rapidity of the llyo. king's advance, and by the vast smns of money which he offered for their heads, the leaders of the late insur- rection disj)ersed in all quarters. TJie Marquis of Dorset, Lionel Woodville Bisht )p of Sahsbury, Beter Courtenay Bishop of Exeter, Sir John, afterwards Lord Welles, Sir Edward Courtenay, and other persons of rank and influence, found means to escape to Brittany. Others took refuge in sanctuary. Several were tried and exe- cuted. Among the latter was the king's own brother- in-law, Sir Thomas St. Leger.* Thus tliis formidable msiu-rection, instead of compassing the downfall of Eichard, rendered liim even more secure on his throne. He was enabled to disband a considerable part of his army, and on the 1st of December, attended by the lord-mayor and aldermen in their robes, he again entered London in triumph. Eichard now ventured to call a parHament, which accordingly assembled at Westminster on the 23rd 1484. of January. Overawed, probably, by his masterly policy, and by his recent signal success, the two houses anticipated his wishes with an obsequiousness which coidd scarcely have faUed to afford him the highest satisfaction. They solemnly confii'med the irregidar title by wliich, m the preceding summer, he had been invited to wear the crowu. They declared and decreed him to be, as well by right of consanguinity and inheritance, as by lawful election, " the very undoubted king of the realm of England." And, lastly, they en- * Sir Tlioiiiiis S(. Lc'froi- had mnrriod tlio Liulv Anno Plantagenet, (langlilir of the late Dnkc ol' York, jind widow of the chivalrous Ilcniy Holland, wcond Duke ol' Exolcr. " One most noble knight |icriHhed, 'riioiiiiis Siiint l.ogcr liy name, to sjivo wlioso life very Itiiyy mitnH of money woro ofFerod ; but all in vain, for ho under- vti'Ut, liiM Bcniciu'c of i'ii|iifftl piiiiishnuMit." — Croi/I. Chron. Cont. i>. r.i2. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 179 k.s the secret negotiations, which they proposed to chap. on foot, must necessarily be attended with imminent . ^^- il, it was requisite, for the safety of all concerned, 1483. t they should be conducted by a person of singular dence and foresight. Fortunately the bishop had ti a person in his eye. " He had an old friend," he I, " a man sober, discreet, and well-witted, called jinald Bray, whose prudent pohcy he had known to e compassed things of great importance." * Bray I of a good Norman fanuly, which had long attached If to the house of Lancaster. His father had been the privy council to Henry VI. ; he himself had n formerly receiver-general to Buckuigham's uncle Henry Stafford, the second husband of the Countess Richmond, and was, at this very time, in the service ihat illustrious lady. As it was deemed prudent by conspirators that the countess should be the first 3on communicated with, Bray's position in her house- i was rendered of considerable importance. He was ardingly summoned to Brecknock, and forthwith usted with the secret designs of the conspirators, services proved of inestimable value. Through his acy, secret negotiations were set on foot, which ved satisfactory to all parties. Sir GUes Daubeny, rwards Lord Daubeny, Sir John Cheney, Sir Eichard Idford, and other persons of influence, were in- ed to join the conspiracy against Eichard.f The en-dowager eagerly agreed to the proposals which ■e made to her ; while the Countess of Eichmond arally embraced with enthusiasm a project which mised to restore the fortunes of the house of Lcaster, and to exalt to the throne a son whom she ilerly loved. In the mean time, trustworthy emis- es had been sent to the young earl, then an exile in ttany, who sent back the most satisfactory rephes * Grafton's Chron. vol. ii. p. 129. f Polydore Virgil, lib. xxv. p. 698. if2 184 liL\(i RICIIAUD THE TIIIKD. CTi.vp, tlic protection oi' tlia Cluirch, liad doubtless occasioned — ,J . Liin tlic grciiti'st auiioyjiuce. It amounted, in fact, to a ^ ''^ '• tacit protest :i,u;iinwt liis usurpation ; a manifest declara- tion to the world, that slie mistrusted his professions, and apprehended evil at his hands. By what arnjuments, or by what pressure of circum- stances, Elizabeth was at length induced to surrender herself and her daughters into the hands of her arch- enemy, will probably never be ascertained. Fortu- nately there is extant the copy of the oath, by which, on the word of a king, and by the Holy Evan- gehsts, Eichard st)lemnly swore, that, on condition of their quitting the sanctuary, he would not only secure to them their lives and hberty, but would provide for their future maintenance. The document is a very curious and interesting one. " I, Eichard," it commences, " by the grace of God, Ejng of Eng- land and of France, and Lord of Ireland, in the pri'sence of you, my Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and yi ui. Mayor and Aldermen of my city of London, ]:)romise and swear verbo regio, upon these Holy ijvangelists of God, by me personally touched, that if the daughters of Dame Elizabeth Grey, late calling herself Queen of England, — that is to Avit, EUzabeth, Cecily, Anne, Katherine, and Bridget, — will come unto me out of the sanctuary at Westminster, and be guided, ruled, and demeaned after me, then I shall see tliat they shall be in siu'ety of their Uves ; and also not suffer any manner of hurt by any manner of person or pei"sons to them, or any of tlieni, on their bodies and pei-sons, to be done by way of ravishment or detouling, con- trary lo their will; nor them nor any of them imprison within the Tower of London or otlicr jirison." Eichard then ])roeeeds lo swear thnt his nieces shall be sup- ])()ite(i in a manner becoming his kinswomen; that he will maiiy them to gentlemen by birth, and endow carh ol' tlieni witli " niarriiiLie lauds and teiienieuts " to KING EICHABD THE THIRD. 181 rossine; the Severn and marchms into the heart of chap. [land, when his progress was impeded by rains so - ^ n. llisl. Imok v. p. I.'U. f MiSS. i|uiil('(l ill S. 'runicr'.H RliiUlIc Agi'.-i, vol. iv. pp. 31-2. KING EICIIAED THE THIED. 183 ed that, after the king's decease, " the high and chap. ;ellent Prince Edward, son of our said sovereign - ^^' i the king, be heir-apparent to succeed him in the i'^^i- resaid crown and royal dignity."* The fact is lewhat a remarkable one, that although this pro- Lure of parhament was virtually an act for deposing ward v., it nevertheless contains no direct mention that unhappy prmce, either as being alive or dead, proclaims, indeed, in general terms, that "aU the le and children " of Edward IV. are bastards, and refore disquahfied from inheriting the crown ; but the prince, in whose fate so many thousands of ■sons were interested, and to whom most of the ;rs and prelates, who then deposed him, had so ;ently and so solemnly sworn allegiance, the act kes no direct mention whatever. Richard had no sooner induced parhament to Lction his usurpation, than he turned his thoughts vards the gloomy sanctuary at "Westminster, in lich, for nearly twelve months, the widow of his )ther Edward, and her five portionless daughters, i been subsisting on the charity of the abbot and inks of Westminster. The pertinacity with which ; queen had refused to allow her daughters to quit ' An act was passed, the preamble to which set forth that, pre- asly to his consecration and coronation, a roll had been presented lim on behalf of the three estates of the realm, by divers lords •itual and temporal, and other notable persons of the commons, the conditions and considerations contained in which he had ignly assented for the public weal and tranquillity of the land ; forasmuch as the said three estates were not at that time imbled in form of parliament, divers doubts and questions had n engendered in the minds of certain persons. For the removal refore of such doubts and ambiguities, it was enacted by " the I three estates assembled in this present parliament," that all igs affirmed and specified in the aforesaid roll be "of the like ct virtue, and force, as if all the same things had been so said, :med, specified, and remembered in fuU parliament." — Hot. Pari. vi. p. 240. N 4 188 KliNli mCIIARD THE THIRD. in tlie most solcniiii inimner, settled the crown upon liini, and untailed it U[)on his heirs. The powerfiil foes, who hiid ci inspired to tliwart him in his ambitious designs, had either perished on the scaffold, or were in exile. Their attainder had enabled him to reward his friends and followers without any drain on the royal coffers. According to I'olydore Virgil *, he had " at- tained the type of glory and promotion, and in the eye of tlie people was accounted a happy man." But though, as I'liilip de Commines informs us, he reigned with a splendour and authority such as, for a hundred years past, no sovereign of England had achieved f , his mind is said to have been constantly harassed by a sense of the insecurity of his position, and by the tortures of remorse. Above all things, he is said to have reproaclied himself for having compassed the deatlis t)f his innocent nephews. According to Sir Thomas More, his life was " sjjcnt in much pain and trouble outward ; in much fear, anguish, and sorrow within ; for I have heard, by credible report, of such as were secret Avith his chamberers, that, after this abominable deed done, he never had quiet in his mind ; he never thought himself sure. When he went abroad, his eyes whirled about ; his body was pri\ily fenced ; his hand ever on his dagger ; his countenance and manner Hke one always ready to strilic again. He took iU rest at night, lay long waking and musing. Sore wearied witli care and watch, he rather slumbered than slept. Troubled with fearful dreams, he would sometimes suddenly start up, leap out of his bed, and run about tlie cliamlicr. So was his rt'slless heart continually tossed and tumbled, with the tedious impression and stormy remeinbranee of liis abominable deed.":}; • (',•1111(1. Sue. Trmis. p. I ',11. ■f Mriiiiiiii's ill' ('iiiniiiiiii's, tonu' ii. p. l.'uS. j ,Slr T. IMorc'.s Kiilinril HI. jip, I.'!.'!, lol. VI. KI>rG RICIIAED THE THIED. 183 yearly value of 200 marks for the term of their lives ; chap. I that such gentlemen, as they may chance to marry, will " strictly charge, from time to time, lovingly to e and entreat them as their wives and his kins- men, as they would avoid and eschew his dis- asure." To Dame Elizabeth Grey he promises to ^ annually 700 marks (266Z. 13s. 4i.), for the term her natural life ; and, lastly, he swears to discredit Y reports that may be spread to their disadvantage, they shaU have had opportunities for " their lawful !'ence and answer." * The date of this remarkable :ument being the 1st of March 1484, the probabihty that the queen and her daughters quitted the ictuary immediately afterwards. Bang Eichard was now at the height of his grandeur i power. Treason, indeed, still lay concealed in his :h ; but it was not from the ill-will nor discontent of ; masses of his subjects, but from the intrigues of a itless nobility, and from the treachery of friends lom he had loaded with favours, that he had reason anticipate peril. If his subjects still remembered, and iddered at, the one terrible crime which he was more m suspected of having committed, they had, on the ler hand, every reason to be grateful to him for having •ested the horrors of civil war, and for having ex- ided to them a wise and humane administration, ey recognized in him, at all events, an active, wise, nperate, and valiant prince ; a prince sensitively lous of the honour of the English nation, and an sious well-wisher for its prosperity. They beheld him a prince, who sought to win their suffrages i their aiFections ; not by the low arts with which )se who have suddenly achieved greatness too often ader for popularity, but by reforming immemorial uses, by introducing laws calculated to secure the ety and welfare of his subjects ; by insisting on an * Ellis's Orig. Letters, Second Series, vol. i. p. 149. 1181. 100 KING RICIIAKD TIIK TIIIKD. Middleliain into u college*; and founded, within Barnard Castk' in the county of Durliam, u college consisting of a dean, twelve secular jiriests, ten chaplains, and six choristers.f lie subscribed 500^., then a considerable sum, towards the completion of the beautiful chapel of King's College, Cambridge;]! ; he is said to have been a considerable benefactor to Clare Hall, Cambridge^, and on Queen's College, m that university, he confen-ed a large portion of the lands of J(An de "\"ere, Earl of Oxford, which had been forfeited by his attainder. In gratitude for these benefits, the latter college formerly used as their coat of arms a crozier and a pastoral staff piercmg the head of a boar, the cognizance of Eichard of Gloucester. In the days of Fuller, however, the college had " waived the wearing of tliis coat, laying it up in her wardrobe," and making use only of the arms assigned to them by their foundress, Margaret of Anjou. II But, towards the close of his career, his I'ehgious offerings and endowments seem not only to have been more numerous, but to have been characterized by an imeasiness in respect to the future welfare of liis soul, which is not without its significance. For instance, on the ICth of December 1483, we find liim granting an annuity of 10/. to John Bray, clei'k, for performing divine service, for the welfare of his soid, and the souls of his consort and of Prince Edward theu* son. in the chapel of St. Geoige, in the castle of Southampton. Again, on the 2nd of March following, we find liim en- dowing Jiis princely foundation, the Herald's College, with lands and tenements for the supjwrt of a chaplain, whose duty it was to pray and sing service every day for • KoMs) Tlist. ]\fclh of York ; Minioir prefixed tr>, by Sir Il;irris NicoliLS, p. 111. ■f liirli.'ird Hiilisc'ciuciilly iillrrcd tlip aiirocssion in I'jivour of another nf'plicw, John lO.iil nl' IJiiniln, tlii' olilcsl son of liis .sisicr Elizabeth, IliirliPRS of Siifliillc. In llie Iblhiwing ri'ign, I he Earl o( Lincoln pMiwd llic Kl.iiidnril nf rcvull np:iniisl IK'nry VII., and fell, in the lifi'liriic (if liiH fiillior, iil llic Imtllc ol'Siukc, llUh June 1 187. J Cray]. Clinui. ('(int. p. I'.l'.l. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 195 rm. The king's anxiety to bequeath an heir to the chap. ■one was sufficiently well known. It was remembered . ^^- it the queen had been barren for nearly eleven years, 1484. i that the delicacy of her constitution rendered it le likely that she would again become a mother, jhard himself gave out that the physicians had oined him to shun her bed. From these circum- Qces, as weU as from their knowledge of his deter- aed and unscrupulous character, his subjects naturally iw inferences in the highest degree unfavourable to iir sovereign. In a word, it was more than whis- ked that his intention was to get rid of his queen, ler by poison or a divorce, and to make his beautiful ce the partaker of his throne.* A. few days after Christmas, whUe the world was still uss. cussing this dehcate topic, it was suddenly announced it the queen had been seized with a serious indisposi- Q. On the 16th of March she died in Westminster lace, at the early age of twenty-eight, f Her husband loured her by a magnificent funeral in the neigh- iring abbey, and is said to have been so affected as to id tears.J That his subjects should have attributed »se tears to hypocrisy, and the death of his queen to .son, may, under all the circumstances, be readily ima- ed. The charges, however, which have been brought linst Eichard of having shortened her hfe, we beheve be ahke unfounded and unjust. Not only is there a nt of evidence to convict him of so heinous a crime, t, on the contrary, there is every reason to believe it he loved her sincerely, that they lived happily to- cher, and that she died a natural death. As far as is * Croyland Chron. Cont. pp. 498-9 ; Polydore Virgil, p. 215 ; us, Hist. Eeg. Ang. p. 215 ; M^moires de Commines, tome ii. L60. • She was born on the 11th of June 1456. Ecus Eoll. Art. 62, ke of Manchester's copy. f Baker's Chronicle, p. 232. o2 1200 KINO EICIIARD THE THIRD. ciiAi'. liis niocc Elizabeth his wife, the fault, if fault there — ,_^ existed, lay not in himself, but in the church on whose 1185. infalUbility, jus onv ol' its (Ji.s(;iples, he was bound to ])lace reliance.* According to the Croyland chronicler, the persons from whom Richard encounteied the most strenuous opposition in this delicate matter were his creatures. Sir Richard Ratcliffe and Sir William C'ate.'rby. These persons had been very instrumental in bringing Earl Rivers and Sir Richard Grey to the block, and con- sequently, as, in the event of her being raised to the throne, Ehzabeth would naturally seek to punish the instigators of the deaths of her uncle and brother, they had every reason to prevent the marriage. Accord- ingly, they are said to have represented to their royal master how entirely the English clergy were prejudiced against such marriages ; and further, that, as the majo- rity of his subjects regarded them as incestuous, they might be induced to rise in open rebellion against his authority. They even went so far, we are told, as to produce before him certain doctors of divinity, who denied that the pontiff had any power of granting a dis- pensation where the degree of consanguinity ^vas so near.f Already, argued his confidants, suspicions — idle and infamous, no doubt — were current that his late queen had met with an untimely end ; aud, conse- quently, his marriage Avith his niece would unquestion- ably endue them with a painful and dangerous impor- tance. There were men still living, they said — and among them some of his most fliithful partisans — who still held in affectionate veneration the memory of the * " In our timo," wrilos Buck, '' llio dmigliter nnd heir of Duke Inihnlnspo, in Sjinin, wns mnrricil to liis brotlior Don Aide Men- (loza; and mdic l.-ilcly, llio Knrl of Miranda miu-ried his brother's (l.nughlcr. In tlic house nf Anslriii, ni.'irringi's of this kind have been very nsnnl and llumght hwM." -^ Buck in R'ennet, vol. i. p. 568. I Croyl, Cliroii. Coiil. p. ■1"J0. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 1D7 estation of his subjects, by putting his wife out of the chap.' Y at the very moment when he knew that they were -^^' . xging him with the foul intention, and actually ex- i^^^- ting the event. Eichard himself not only saw the ;stion in this Hght, but is said to have expressed )rehensions lest the death of his queen, in this state the pubhc mind, might prove fatal to his popu- [t seems to have been during the queen's last illness, I probably after the physicians had expressed their nion that her case was a hopeless one, that Richard t confided to his friends his project of marrying his ce. That he seriously conceived that project, there mot, we think, exist any doubt. The fact is asserted a contemporary Avriter, the chronicler of Croyland, well as by Polydore Virgil and Grafton.* Even ;hard's apologist, Buck, admits that " it was enter- aed and well-liked by the king and his friends a good He." f It has been argued, indeed, that it was directly Dosed to Eichard's interests to marry Elizabeth ; since so doing he would have shown himself capable of -onsistency so great, and of a change of tactics so jrant, as to have endangered his political existence. 3 only title to the throne, it has been insisted, was ived from the fact of the children of his brother ward having been declared by parliament to be igitimate, and, consequently, had he married the ^ncess Elizabeth, he would have reversed the act ich stigmatized her with bastardy ; thus tacitly ac- owledging her claims to the crown, and proclaiming Qself an usurper. " His worst enemies," it has been d, " have contented themselves with representing Croyl. Cont. p. 499 ; Grafton's Chronicle, vol. ii. p. 144 ; Poly- e Virgil, lib. xxt. p. 707. Buck in Kennet, vol. i. p. 567. o 3 202 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. ciiAi". the Woodvillc3 in awe at the time of his usurpation.* — ,- — • It was on his Iriemls in the north that he had almost ex- 1485. clusively conferred the possessions which lapsed to the crown by the uttiiindiT of Buckingham and his asso- ciates f ; and lastly, when Eatchffe and Catesby sought to divert him from manying the Princess Ehzabeth, the stress which we find them laying on the nsk which he ran of forfeiting the allegiance of " the people of the north," proves how great was the importance which he attached to their loyalty. J In the mean time, not only were secret conspiracies forming against the usiu-per's government at home, but abroad, the Earl of Eichmond and his partisans were making active preparations for a second invasion of his kingdom. So far back, indeed, as the preceding Christ^ mas, when Eichard was enhvening the old palace of Westminster witli " dancing and gaiety," his spies in Brittany had secretly advised him that, in the course of tlie ensuing summer, a descent would unquestionably be attempted on the shores of England. If guilt be usually the parent of fear, Eicliard of Gloucester at least was an exception to tlie rule. To him, as to his brother Edward, the approach of danger and the hour of battle are said to have been sources of pleasurable excitement. Instead • " Soon after, for fear of the queen's blood, and other, which he had in jenlons}-, he sent for a strength of men out of the north, the wliich came shortlj' to London a little before his coronation, and mustered in the IMoorfields, \vcll upon 1000 men." — Fabt/an, p. 516. According to Sir Thomas INIorc, these northern levies pre- sented but a soiiy appearance : " To be sure of his enemies, he sent for .'')000 men out of llie north, who camo up to town ill clothed and worse harnessed, tlieir horses poor and their arms nisty, who, being mustcrrd in Finsbury Fields, wore the contempt of the spec- tnlcirs." — Sir T. J/oir in Kcnnet, vol. i. p. ."lOO. When Richard siilisoipiently visilcd York, in (lie month of Se]ileniber 1483, we find him luingiMg some of llieso rude men-at-arms on account of ccr-ljiin la\vles.M proccrdings of whii-h llu'v had been guilty on their mnri-Ii liarU lo lhnl. p. 500. t It)id. p. 501. X Ibid. p. 497. KING EICHAED THE THIKD. 201 eat Earl of Warwick, and who would iU brook the chap. ■ VT spicion that his gentle daughter had been consigned - — ^J — - an early grave for the purpose of making room for i^So. more eligible rival.* Eichard was the least hkely of all hving men to ! diverted from his purpose by the arguments or hcitations of others. But whether convinced by the undness of the reasoning of Eatchffe and Catesby, ' whether, as is probable, his own strong sense sug- !sted stOl weightier grounds for breaking off his pro- cted marriage, he resolved not only on relinquishing s purpose, but to repair as much as possible the injury hich his reputation had suffered, by boldly declaring i his subjects that no such project had ever entered s head. Accordingly, in the great hall in the priory ■ St. John's, Clerkenwell, in the presence of the lord- ayor and the principal citizens of London, he rose, id, " in a loud and distinct voice," solemnly declared lat a marriage with his niece had never entered into s contemplation, f At the same tune he addressed a tter to the citizens of York, in which he not only ihorted them to give no credit to the " false and April ii. 3ominable language and lies " which were presump- lously circulated to his disadvantage, but enjoined lem to bring to condign punishment the " authors id makers " of such unwarrantable slanders. | This especial appeal to the citizens of York is cu- ous and interesting. Evil times, Eichard was aware, 'ere threatening him. He knew not how soon he might jquire the aid of that important city. From the days L which he held high office among them, it had ever sen the poHcy of Eichard to secure the confidence and itachment of the people of the north. It was the Drth which had sent him up the levies which kept * Croyl. Chron. Cont. p. 499. f '^^^- P- 500. I Drake's Ebor. p. 119. VJ 206 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. I'liAi'. lonuutioii rciiclicd Eichard from France that the Earl of Richmond had lakcn his departure for Harfleur, and that liis ships had assembled at the mouth of the Seine. On the Gth ol' August they reached Milford Haven. " On hearing of tlioir arrival," says the Croyland chronicler, "the king rejoiced, or ut least seemed to rejoice; writing to his adherents in every quarter that now the long wished-for day had arrived for him to triumph over so contemptible a faction." * At all events, if he failed to conquer, he was resolved to die as became a hero and a king. ^O' Croyl. Chron. Cont. p. 501. KING RICHARD THE THIED. 203 ' betraying any apprehension at the threatened in- chap. Lsion of his Idngdom, he is said to have looked for- . ^ ard with positive satisfaction to the day which was i^^^- jstined to settle for ever the dispute between him and e heir of Lancaster. The danger, however, was not 1 yet so imminent as to require his presence in the 3ld ; and accordingly, with the exception of three brief sidences at Windsor, we find him continuing to hold s court at Westminster till the month of May. In le mean tune he energetically set to work to defend le shores of England from foreign invasion, as well ! to prevent popular commotions at home. So imirable were his arrangements, that when event- illy the Earl of Eichmond effected his memorable nding, no single town in England or Wales rose in Lsurrection. To prevent the Princess Ehzabeth faUing Lto the hands of his enemies, he sent her to Sheriff- [utton, a " stately mansion " of his own in Yorkshire, here his northern friends were all-powerful, and here her cousin, the young Earl of Warwick, was [ready detained in safe though honourable durance, .n oak, called the " Warwick oak," was formerly, ad perhaps may stiU be, pointed out in the park, as le boundary tree which limited the walks of the heir f the iU-fated Clarence during liis imprisonment at heriff-Hutton. When, subsequently, the two cousins reve conducted from their prison-house, very different ras their destiny. EHzabeth was led forth to ascend throne ; the unfortunate earl to perish, a few years fterwards, on the scaffold.* * The fate of the Earl of Warwick has been already alluded to. his unhappy prince, the last male heir of the royal line of Planta- enet, was a prisoner in the Tower in the year 1499, when its ites opened to admit the famous adventurer, Perkin Warbeck. he two youths, having found means to confer with each other 1 secret, contrived a plan for escaping from the gloomy fortress, 'heir project, however, imfortunately was discovered, and the larl of Warwick, whose only known offence had been a natural '209 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, forward liifl army to a spot called Ambeame, or Anbein — r-^— Hill, where " he pitched his field." Thus, on the evening 1 18j. Qf ^]^g 21st, the day immediately before the battle, the two armies lay encamped in full view of each other. The forces of the usurper were posted to the north- east, those of the ICaii of Hichrnond faced them on the south-west. Lord Stanley, and his brother Sir William Stanley, took up independent and menacing positions. On the south, " myddeway betwLxt the two battaylles," * Lord Stanley pitched his camp, somewhat nearer to the left of the king than to the right of Eichmond, as if with the intention of supporting his sovereign. Sir William Stanley faced him on the nortL The former ha\'ing married Margaret Countess of Eich- mond, was consequently stepfather to the invader. This, and apparently other circumstances, having aroused suspicions of Stanley's fidelity in the mind of Eichard, he had, some days since, seized the person of his eldest son. Lord Strange, whom he now retained in his camp as a hostage for his father's good behaviour. Thus, suspicious of one of the most powerful of liis subjects, and apprehensive lest the evident disaffection of the Stanleys might extend to others, Eichard, doubt- less, would only too wilUngly have compelled Eichmond to join issue in an immediate encounter, and thus have emancipated himself from a suspense which must have been almost intolerable. It was Sunday, however, and a feeling of veneration or superstition, such as had forbidden him to march from Xottingham on the preceding ]\Ionday, tlie "Assumption of om- Lady,"f probably prevented his attacking his enemy and shed- ding blood on the Sabbath. Though wearing the kingly crown, and at the head of a magnificent army, there was probably not one of his • I'olyili.iv \'irgil, 11. -J-'-', V:\md. ^oc. Trans, t I'lisloii l.L'Kcr.i, vol. ii. l>. KiG. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 205 terests of Hs subjects. He denounces Henry's ad- chap. ;rents as rebels and traitors — men disabled and • ,^— tainted by tHe high court of parliament, and many ^'^'^^■ ' them notoriously murderers, adulterers, and extor- 3ners. Henry himself he stigmatizes as one Henry iidor, of bastard blood both on his father's and his other's side, and possessing no title whatever to the )yal dignity. The earl is further charged with having itered into a covenant with the French king to give p, on the part of England, all title and claim to the ■own and realm of France, together with the duchies F Normandy, Anjou, and Maine ; to surrender Gas- Dny, Guienne, and Calais, and to remove for ever the :ms of France from those of England. "And," the roclamation prdteeds, " in more proof and showing of is said purpose of conquest, the said Hem-y Tudor ath given, as well to diverse of the said king's ene- lies as to his said rebels and traitors, archbishoprics, ishoprics, and other dignities spiritual ; and also the uchies, earldoms, baronies, and other possessions and iheritances of knights, esquires, gentlemen, and other le king's true subjects within the realm ; " the inten- on of the invaders being " to do the most cruel lurders, slaughters, robberies, and disherisons, that -•ere ever seen in any Christian realm." Under these ircumstances, the king entreats and commands all true Inghshmen to furnish themselves with arms for the efence of their wives, goods, and hereditaments ; as- iring his " true and faithful liegemen " that he himself dU expose his royal person, as becomes a courageous rince, to all hazard and labour, for the purpose of :ibduing the said enemies, rebels, and traitors, and stabhshing the welfare and safety of his subjects.* While the people of England were stiU engaged in iscussing the merits of this remarkable document, in- * Paston Letters, toI. ii. p. 152. 210 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP. r\i(lciilly coiisLitiilionally nervous and irritable. Fits , ^ of iibsliiu'tion, in wliirl] it was liis habit to bite his l-lHj. vukIlt lip, and lo draw his da^/ger hurriedly up and down in its scubbaid, were not unfrequent with him.* That a man, tlierefore, of a morbid and excitable temperament, — surrounded, moreover, as he was by secret traitors, and with his life and crown dependent on the issue of the morrow's conflict, — should have passed an uneasy niglit, and have been troubled with distressing dreams, may be readily comprehended. But, on the other hand, that he was visited, or beUeved himself to have been visited, by the apparitions of those wliom it was assumed that he had cruelly mur- dered, rests on no sounder foundation than the poetic flights of Drayton and Shakspeare. The old chro- niclers, though they dwell on the night of horrors which he spent, make no mention of his having been haunted by the spectres of his imaginary victims. " The fame went," writes Polydore Virgil, " that he had the same niglit a dreadful and a terrible dream ; for it seemed to him, being asleep, that he saw divers iniagi's, like terrible devils, which ptilled and haled liim, not sufiering him to take any quiet or rost."f Again, according to the most faithful chronicler of the peri(j(l, " As it is generally stated, in the morning he declared that he had seen dreadful visions, and had imagined himself surrounded by a multitude of demons." J •' r,y the Apo?tlc P.aul, slinflnws (..-iiiLrlit ]h\\v struck iiKirc tcrrur lu the s<:>ul ol' Eich.anl, • Konnct, V..1. i. p. r)]3. j- (Ji.iflnn, Mil. il. ]i. l.')(t. "It is rofwrliil," in-ites Pulydore \'irgil, " lli.'it Kintr Rlcli.ird hiiil tli:ii night n torriblo dreain; for lie thiiUL'liI, /// lii.i slir/i, lliiit he s,'iw liorrihh' iiiinu'i", :i^ it were, of i-vil s|i(('ii(H liuiinliiifi I'viiK'iitly iilioiit him." — I'. Vii'jil, p. 221, ( '.•irml. Sfic, 'I'iriiiM. \ Crcyl. Clii-cn. Coiil. p. fit),'!. 207 CHAP. VII. HE DESOLATION AND DEATH OF RICHAED OF GLOUCESTEE. N Tuesday, the 16th of August 1485, King Eichard chap. larched out of the town of Nottingham at the head of . ^-j-^" velve thousand men. Clad in armour of burnished 1^:85. ;eel, and seated on a magnificent snow-white charger, le famous " white Surrey " of the poet, his appear- ace, attended by his ghttering body-guard, is said 3 have been eminently striking. His armour was the ime which he had worn at the battle of Tewkes- ury.* A kingly diadem encircled his helmet. Above im floated the royal banner, while around him iraved a variety of standards, radiant with the " silver loar," his peculiar cognizance, and other insignia of the :Ouse of Plantagenet. About sunset he entered Leicester. On the following day Eichard led his army from jcicester to Elmsthorpe, where he encamped for the ight. On Thursday, the 18th, he advanced to Stable- on, about a mile and a half from the field of Bosworth. lere he pitched his camp upon some ground called the kadshaws, and here he remained during the two fol- Dwing days, employed in throwing up breastworks and aaking other preparations for the approaching battle. In the mean time, the Earl of Eichmond had broken Aug 21. ip his camp at Atherstone, and had advanced his army, .mounting to about seven thousand men, to the field if Bosworth, then called Eedmore Plain, from the red olour of its soiI.j" The same evening, Eichard pushed * Huttoa's Bosworth, Nichols' ed. p. 82. f Ibid. p. 68. 1185. 212 K1N(J KICIIARD THE THIRD. CHAP, known warning which, on the preceding night, had been iippcMided to the tent of tlie Duke of Xorfolk, was only too .significiint of the general treachery which surrounded him : — " Jock of Norfolk, be not too bold, Fur Dickon, thy master, is bought and sold." • Splendid, indeed, as was the appearance of his array, more than two-thirds of his followers were probably traitors in their hearts. Already more than one gallant and distinguished warrior, — such men as Sir John Savage, Sir Simon Digby, Sir Brian Sandford, Sir Johu Cheney, Sir Walter Hungerford, and Sir Thomas Bourchier, — had deserted his service for that of the invader. Of these persons more than one had been high in favour with Eichard. Hungerford and Bour- chier had been esquires of his body; Savage had received grants of land from him, and was one of the knights of his body ; Hungerford " was keeper of parks in Wells." "j- There can be no stronger evidence how ^\■idely treason had spread among Eichard's followei-s, than the fact that during the preceding night Sii- Simon Digby had been allowed to penetrate as a spy into the heart of his camp, and to return, unquestioned, Avith such information as he could collect, to the Eu'l of Eichmond. But it was the imposing positions taken up by the Stanleys, and their more than questionable fidelity, which doubtless occasioned Eichard the greatest anxi- ety. Lord Stanley, Avho was in secret connnmiication with the Earl of Eichmond. was compelled to pursue the most cautious pttlicy. lie was ]ilaccd in u most painful situation. Ilis word was pledged to his royal muster; his wishes were willi his stepson; all his tears were with his son. A single imprudent nun-e might * (iiafloii, vol.i. p. 151. •f II:irI. MSS. (luoloil in 'runuTM Middle .Vgrs, vol. iii. p. 522. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 209 ibjects whose heart was more comfortless ; not one chap, ho was more entirely alienated from the sympa- • ^ lies of his fellow-creatures, than at this period was ■'■*^^- ichard of Gloucester. The death of his nephews had Btranged from him all who were nearest allied to im in blood. The fair boy, in whom all his am- itious hopes had centred, had suddenly been hur- led to the tomb. The wife of his choice had DeedUy followed him. Treason was rife among those '^hom he had sought to love, and on whom he had onferred the greatest favours. In this, then, the hour f his desolation — yearning, perhaps, for the presence f some human being on whose affections he had a laim — he is said to have recalled to mind an illegiti- late son, for whom he had hitherto shown no par- cular predilection, and to have sent for him to his amp. The circumstances connected with their iuter- iew have their pecuhar interest, and will be presently slated. The night before the battle of Bosworth was the ist of Eichard's existence : it was probably also the lost terrible. " To tte guilty king, that black fore-running night, Appeared the dreadful ghosts of Henry and his son, Of his own brother George, and his two nephews done Most cruelly to death ; and of his wife and friend Lord Hastings, with pale hands prepared as they would rend Him piecemeal ; at which oft he roared in his sleep." Dkayton. That Eichard passed a perturbed and miserable night, re have good evidence for beheving. We learn, from igh authority, that of late he had been an habitually gstless sleeper ; " that he took lU rest a-nights ; lay )ng wakening and musing, sore wearied with care nd watph, rather slumbered than slept."* * Sir T. More's Hist, of Eichard HI. p. 134. P '214 KlNa RICHARD THE THIRD. CHAP, make common cause with the carl, and might not ^-,-1— impossibly change the fortunes of the day. These 1485. arguments coiiviiiccil the usuiper. Accordingly, de- livering back Tjcjid Bti'ange to the custody of the " krcptTs of his tents," he consented to defer the exe- cution to a more convenient opportunity.* When, on the morning of the 22nd of August, King Richard placed himself at the head of his army, the paleness of his face and a tremor of his frame are said to have been observable by all. Yet, from whatever cause his disturbance arose, whether from evil dreams or from the treachery of his fi-iends, it effected no change in his conduct as a general, or in his valour as a man. His mUitary arrangements were completed with his accustomed precision and skiU. His archers, under the command of the Duke of Norfolk and his son, the Earl of Surrey, he placed in front. Xext came a dense square, composed of bombards, morris- pikes, and arquebuses, commanded by the king in person. Still clad in the magnificent suit of armour whicli he had worn at Tewkesbury, and mounted on Ills celebrated milk-white charger, he addi-essed liis chieftains in an animated speech, the purport of which his contemporaries have bequeathed to us : — " Ad- vance forth your standards," he exclaimed, " and every one give but one sure stroke, and surely the jom-ney is ours. And as for me, I assure you this day I wUl triumph for victory, or suffer death for unmortiil fame."f In the mean time, the Earl of Eicluuond had also arranged his forces in battle ari'ay. His front, com- posed ol'areliers like lliat of the king, was commanded l)y tlie Earl of Oxford. The right wing was intrusted to Sir riill)ert Talbot; Sir John Savage led tlie left. ♦ iriillnirH BoHworlh, pp. '.'2, 'y^■, Croylnud Cliron. p. 503; KiiiruM, v<.l. i. p. .Ml'; Jliill, pp. 112, 120; lloliuslied, vol. iii. pp. 'l.'tl, I. ';.".. f (ii;ill.oii, vol. ii. l'. l.^L'. KINO RICIIAKD THE THIRD. 211 'I'lian can tin; BuljHlancc often thousand fSoldicrH, CHAP. Armed in proof, and lud Tiy Bballow Richmond." - King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3. 1485. It WiiH in the ffrcy dawn of the morning that Uicliiird stiirted from his troubled slumbers. So early Wiis the hour, that his chaplains were still asleep in their tents. His attendants were unprepared with his breakfast. * Attended by Lord Lovcl, his lord- chamberliiin ; by Sir William Catesby, his attorney- general ; and by another privy councillor, Sir llichard liatclilTe, the usurper passed from his tent into the silent camp, which lay stretched around him in the twihght. Perceiving a sentinel asleep at his post, he is said to have stabbed him, exclaiming, as he pursued his rounds, " I found him asleep, and I have left him as I I'ound him." f The (le])ression of his spirits, occasioned by tlie horrors of the ])receding night, is said to have been visibly depicted on his palUd countenance. A ])aiiiful thought occurred to him, that his agitation might be attributed to cowardice ; and accordingly wc! are told he " rcscited and declared to his ])articular fri(!nds his wonder lid vision and tcrriljle dream." J On all fornuir occasions, on the eve of a deadly encounter, it had b(;en remarked that, as the hour of peril drew near, his eye had grown brighter, and his spirits appa- rently more light. But now, dreading "that the event of the battle would be grievous, he did not buckle himself to the conOict with such livehness of courage and countenance as bcd'orc." § But Kichard had graver causes for anxiety and alarm than from mere superstitious fantasies. The well- * Croyland Cliron. Cont, p. 503. f Ilulton'n Bosworth, p. 79. j (h'afton, vol. ii. p. 150. § I'olyduri! Virgil, p. 222, Oamd. Soc. Ed. No longer, accord- ing to niicillier old chronicler, ho exhibited that "alacrity and mirth of mind and counteiianc<^, as lu^ was accustomed to do before he came toward the battle." — IloHnshed, vol. iii. p. 438. p 2 216 KlNCl niCHARD THE TIIIKD. (MTAi>. the Duke of Norfolk on the side of the king, and by . — ,_J_ the Earl of Oxiord on the part of Richmond. Having 1 185. expended their arrows, the archers on each side laid aside their bows, and fought, sword in hand, in a close and desjjeratt: sLniij-gle. In the midst of the meUe, Norfolk chiuu'cd to recognize Oxford by his device — a star with rays, which was glittering on his standard. In like manner, Oxford discovered the duke by his cog- nizance, the silver lion. These gallant men were nearly allied to each other by the ties of blood. Formerly they had been united by the ties of friendship. In that hour of deadly conflict, however, friendship and rela- tionship were alike disregarded. The lances of the two chieftains crossed, and each sliivered on the armour of the other. Eenewing the combat with their swords. Norfolk woimded Oxford in the h'ft arm, a stroke which the earl paid back by cleaving the beaver from Nor- folk's helmet. The duke's face being thus exposed, Oxford chivalrously dechned to continue the combat with so great an advantage on his side. His generosity, hdwcver, was of no avail to Norfolk. An arrow, shot by an obscure hand, struck him in the face, and laid him a corpse at Oxford's feet. Lord Smrey, who be- held his father fall, now made a furious onset to revenge his death. He was encountered, however, by superior numbers, and, notwithstanding the chivah-ous valour with which he fought, his own position soon be- came a critical one. A generous elTort to rescue him was made by Sir Eichard Clarendon and Sir WiUiam Conyers. Those gallant knights, however, were in theii' turn sun'ounded by Sir John Savage and his retainers, and cut to pieces. In the mean time, Surrey was singly o|)p()sed by the veteran Si\' (lilbert Talbot, who would willingly \v.\\v spared the life of one so chivalrous and HO young. Surrey, however, refused to accept quarter, and, when an altianpt was made to take him prisoner, dealt dealh among those who approached him. One KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 213 have sent the latter to the block. When, therefore, chap. on the morning of the battle of Bosworth, the king ._^^^" . and the Earl of Eichmond severally sent messengers to i'^^^- exhort him to join them forthwith, he returned an equivocal answer to each. To the latter he replied that he was engaged in putting his own troops in battle array; that he would "join him at supper-time."* Eichmond, though he could scarcely have doubted the good intentions of his stepfather, listened to the answer with emotion. He was " no little vexed," we are told, " and began to be somewhat alarmed." f The reply which Lord Stanley sent back to the king's more peremptory command, savoured more of the spirit of the Eoman. Eichard, it seems, had sent him word by a pursuivant-at-arms that, by Christ's , passion, he would cut off Lord Strange's head, if he dared to disobey his orders. " Tell the king," was Stanley's reply, " that it is inconvenient for me to go to him at present : tell him also," he added, " that I have other sons." J These words so exasperated the king, that he ordered Lord Strange to be instantly executed. Fortunately, however. Lord Stanley had friends in the usurper's camp. Lord Ferrers of Chart- ley, and others, represented to Eichard that he was about to commit not only a cruel, but also an im- politic action. Lord Stanley, they argued, had hitherto committed no overt act of treason. They represented that were any blood to be shed that day, except by the sword, it would fix an indeHble stain upon their cause. Lord Stanley, they said, was so nearly alhed by family ties to the earl, that he probably wished to avoid coming to blows with him if possible ; whereas the execution of his son would impel him to * Buck's Eichard III. in Kennet, vol. i. p. 510 ; Grafton, vol. ii, p. 151. t Polydore Virgil, p. 223, Camd. Soc. Ed. j Grafton, vol. ii. p. 156. r 3 VII 1485 218 KING EICIIARD THE TIIIED. t'liAP. victory would, in all probability, have declared for liic'liard. But Ndilhuinberlimd, in^;lead of hastening to the aid ol his loyal iiiasttT, withtlrew his troops to a convenient distance, wlieie he remained a pas- sive spectator of the combat. This glaring act of disloyalty manifcstt'd huw wide-spread was the de- fection in liichard's army, and may not improbably have induced Lord Stanley to throw off the mask. Suddenly he gave orders fur his troops to advance to the left, thus uniting them with the right of Eich- mond's army. The king beheld the movement with astonishment and rage. Victory was evidently on the point of deciding for his adversary ; and accord- ingly, his faithftil knights, " perceiving the soldiers faintly, and nothing courageousl}% to set on their enemies," brought him a fi'esh and fleet charger, and entreated him to seek safety in flight.* Eichard, howexei-, inthgnantly repelled their advice. '• Bring me my battle-axe," he is said to have exclaimed, " and fix my crown of gold on my head ; for, by Him that siiaped both sea and land, king of England this day will I die ! "f The situation of the usurper had indeed become a critical one. The gallant Norfoll-: was no more ; Smrey was a prisoner ; Northumberland had turned traitor. Stanley's followers were already dealing '• sore dints" among his troops, and Sir William Stanley might at any moment follow the example set him by his brodier. One chance only remained to the undaunted moiiiirch. Descrying Eichmond on a neighbouring eminence, with only a few men-at-arms for his personal guard, he resolved either to light his way to him and terniinate their differiMU'cs by a personal encounter, or to perish * I'nlyddi-i' Virgil, p. -JlT), CiUiul. S.v. Trans. ; Grafton, vol. ii. p. ir,:,. " t II.'u-l. 1\ISS. :>\-2. ful. 31, .pioiiHl in llutton's Bosworth, by NicIuiIh, ]). 217 ; (li-iilloii, vol. ii. p. l.'):> ; Polydoro Virgil, p. 225. KING RICHARD THE THIRD, 215 Eichmond himself, assisted by the military skill and chap. experience of his uncle, the veteran Jasper Tudor, Earl — , ' of Pembroke, assumed the supreme command. He, 'i-i85. too, addressed a spirited appeal to his followers. Arrayed in complete armour, with the exception of his helmet, of which he had modestly divested himself, he rode from rank to rank, descanting, " with a loud voice and bold speech," on the justness of his cause and on the crimes of the usurper. His trust, he said, was in the God of justice and of battles. Victory, he insisted, was decided not by numbers but by valour ; the smaller the numbers, the greater the fame which would reward the vanquishers. For himself, he con- tinued, he would rather he a corpse on the cold ground, than recline a free prisoner on a carpet ia a lady's chamber. One choice only was theirs — that of winning the victory, and exulting as conquerors ; or losing the battle, and being branded as slaves. " Therefore," he concluded, " in the name of God and St. George, let every man courageously advance forth his standard." * The accounts which the old chroniclers have be- queathed to us of the battle of Bosworth are highly spirited and graphic. " Lord ! " says Grafton, " how hastily the soldiers buckled their helms ! How quickly the archers bent their bows, and frushed their feathers ! How readily the billmen shook their bills and proved their staves, ready to approach and join when the ter- rible trumpet should sound the bloody blast ■ to victory or death ! " And anon, after that terrible pause, " the trumpets blew, and the soldiers shouted, and the king's archers courageously let fly their arrows. The earl's bowmen stood not stiU, but paid them home again ; and, the terrible shot once passed, the armies joined md came to hand-strokes, "f For some time, the brunt of the battle was borne by * Grafton, vol. ii. p. 153. | Ibid. vol. ii. p. 154. p 4 1185. '-i-iO KINO RICIIAED THE THIRD. c'liAi'. warriors. Four of them were knights of the Garter.* Flinging- tlicin.selvL's iiiLo the thickest of the battle, on- AN'iuel and furiously they fought their way. At their head, — " making open passage by dint of sword," — rode the last king who was destined to wear the crown of the Planlagenets. The nearer he advanced to his detested ri\al, the greater became his impetuosity and rage. In the words of the old chronicler, " he put spurs to his horse, and like a hungiy hon ran with spear in rest towards him."f In the course of that terrible onslaught, more than one affecting incident occurred. Sir Eobert Brakenbury happened to cross Sir Walter Hungerford, who, only a few hours pre- viously, had deserted the cause of Eichard for that of Henry. The word traitor escaped the hps of Braken- bury, on which Hungerford dealt a blow at liim which shivered his shield. Stroke after stroke was then ex- changed between them ; but Brakenbury had sur\ived the N'igour of youth, and was ill matched against a younger adversary. At length a blow from Hunger- ford's sword crushed the helmet of the veteran knight, and exposed his sdvery hairs to the hght. " Spare his life, brave Hungerford," exclaimed Sir Thomas Boiu-chier ; but the generous entreaty came too late. Before the words could escape his lips, the arm of Hungerford had descended, and the old waiTior lay stretched, with the Ufe-blood flowing from him. at their feet. In that exciting hour, friend was arrayed ag-aiiist friend, and neighbour encomitered neighbom". Sir Gorvoise Clifton and Sir John Byron J were not only • King ■RicliMi-il, Lord Fervcrs of Cli,aiili-v, Loixl Lovol, and Sir Kicliiinl KMlililH'. \ Sir John Hyroii, consljiblo of Nollingliara Casllo, ■was knighted by Henry Mhiirlly iillor his Inndinj;- at Mill'ord-Uavon. lie died ;!i(l May M.SM, and wa.s luuiod at Colwick iu Nottinghiunsliire. KING KICHAED THE THIRD. 217 ast endeavour to capture him was made by a private CH^. soldier. Surrey, however, turning furiously on him, — , ■ collected his remaining strength, and severed the man's arm from his body. " Young Iloward single with an army fights ; When, moved with pity, two renowned knights, Strong Clarendon and valiant Conyers, try To rescue him, in which attempt they die. Now Surrey, famting, scarce his sword can hold, Which made a common soldier grow so bold. To lay rude hands upon that noble ilower, ^Vhich he disdaining, — anger gives him power, — Erects his weapon with a nimble round, And sends the peasant's arm to kiss the ground." * By this time he was completely exhausted. Ac- cordingly, presenting the hUt of his sword to Talbot, he requested him to take his hfe, in order to prevent his dying by an ignoble hand. " The maxim of our family," he said, " is to support the crown of England, and I would fight for it, though it were placed on a hedge-stick." Talbot, it is needless to observe, spared his life.f Had the Earl of Northumberland remained true to his sovereign, or even if the Stanleys had continued neuter. * Bosworth Field, by Sir John Beaumont, Bart., in Weever's Funeral Monuments, p. 554. I Hutton's Bosworth, pp. 100 — 106. Lord Surrey was com- mitted to the Tower, where he remained a prisoner about three years and a half; but, says Grafton (vol. ii. p. 154), " for his truth and fidelity he was afterwards promoted to high honours, offices, and dignities." On the 9th of September 1513, he defeated and slew King James IV. of Scotland at the battle of Flodden, for which distinguished service he was restored to the dukedom of Norfolk, of which he had been deprived by attainder after the battle of Bos- worth. In 1521, he presided, as Lord High Steward, at the trial of Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, and, on passing sentence of death on him, is said to have been so much affected as to shed tears. The duke died at Framlingham Castle, May 21, 1524. 222 KINO RICIIABD THE THIRD. CHAP, from tlic grasp of the falling warrior, flung it con- — ,^1—^ tc'inptuimsly on the ground. 1185. fjij-,^ nioniunt was unquestionably a critical one for Eichmond. His lollowerw are f^aid to have been "almost in despair of victory."* His life was in im- minent peril. It was at this conjuncture that Sir William Stanley, following the example of his brother, came to Eichmond's assistance with " three thousand tall men."']' " He came time enough," afterwards ob- served Henry, " to save my hie ; but he stayed long enough to endanger it." J The object of Sir Wilham Stanley was to surround Eichard, and he completely succeeded. Bitterly was this last act of treachery felt by the usurper. The last words which he was heard to mutter were, " Treason, treason, treason ! " § But, though separated from his army, and gradually hemmed in by overpowering numbers, liis intrepidity never for a moment deserted him. Wlien Catesljy urged him to fly, he retorted by taxing him with cowardice. The hope of reaching his adversary, and dying with his grasp round his throat, seems to have animated him to the last. But by this time, his knights, with the exception of Lord Level and liis faithful standard-bearer, had all fallen lifeless around him. The latter continued to wave the royal ban- ner over the head of his sovereign to the last. Ee- solved to sell his life as dearly as possible, the war- rior king still stood at bay, " manfully fighting in tlie middle of his enemies," || till, covered with wounds and exliausted by loss of blood and fatigue, lie either stag- gered or was struck down from his lioi-se. Thus, as tlic old chronicler ol)scrves, " wliile ligluing, and not in • GvMnon, v,.i. ii. p. ir.i. f Ibid. I I.iinl BiU'on'M Hi'iiry \'II. in Koiiiul, vol. i. p. Gil. § I\oiim'h Mint. Iv'c'g. Aug, ]i. IMS, II (Jr.'irinii, vdl. ii. p, 1,')1, " iMsrliliiio- manfully in the thickest prcMH oC his crK'Tuii'M." — J'tili/ihur \'irijil^ P---'i (.';inul. Soo, Trans, vn. 1485? KING EICHAKD THE THIKD. 219 1 the gallant attempt.* With a voice and mien in- chap. pired by indomitable resolution and coinage, he called pon all true knights to imitate the intrepid example rhich he proposed to set them. " If none will follow le," he exclaimed, " I will try the cause alone." But tie gallant men to whom he appealed responded in a aanner such as should gladden the ear of a king n such an occasion. One and all, they prepared to riumph with their sovereign, or die by his side. Of he names of those devoted men only a few have been Landed down to us. They included, however, Francis /"iscount Lovel, Walter Lord Eerrers of Chartley, Sir xervoise Clifton, Sir Eichard Eatcliffe, and Sir Eobert 3rakenbmy — names to which the historian dehghts to lo honour. Lastly, there rode by the side of the king Sir William Catesby, " learned in the laws of the realm," rho, false as he had been to Hastings and others, emained true to his sovereign in his hour of imminent leril. The reflection is a melancholy one, that, of that leroic band. Lord Lovel alone survived to mourn the ate of his king and comrades, and to relate the tale of heir prowess. Catesby, indeed, quitted the field ahve, >ut it was to perish, two days afterwards, by the hands if the headsman. Then it was that King Eichard headed and led on hat memorable charge, on the success or failure of vhich the sceptre of an ancient dynasty depended, fixing his spear in its rest, and caUing on his knights o follow him, he set spurs to his noble charger, and irom the right flank of his army rode directly and mpetuously towards his adversary. Only for a few econds he paused in his desperate course. It was to [uench his thirst at a fountain, which still bears the lame of " King Eichard's well." Then recommenced hat glorious onset of the hero-king and his brother * Grafton, vol. ii. p. 154 ; Polydore Virgil, Ub. xxv. p. 714. 224 KINO lUCIIARD THE TIIIED. CTiAP. by at once ofTering the crown to Eichmond, and call- r-L-- inn; upon the; asKcinbled army to acknowledge him as ^^^^' their sovereign. The armed multitude hstened to the proposal with rapture, and, amidst their cheers and acclamations, Lord Stanley placed the crown of the Plantagenets on the head of the first king of the house of Tudor. The same day Eichmond entered Leicester in triumph, where, " by sound of trumpets," he was proclaimed King of England, by the title of Henry VIL* At each end and side of the magnificent tomb of Henry VII. in Westminster Abbey, may be seen the device of a crown in a hawthorn bush, an interesting memento of his miUtary coronation on the field of Bosworth. The eminence on which Lord Stanley placed the royal diadem on the brow of Henry, still retains the name of Crown Hill. The death of Eichard III. took place on the 22nd of August 1485. He had reigned only two years and two months ; his age was only thirty-two. Whatever niiiy have been his faults or Ms crimes, he certainly died not unlamented. In the register of the city of York, there is an entry, dated the day after his death, which is the more touching inasmucli as it was in- serted at a time when flattery was unserviceable to the dead, and might have been perilous to the living. " It was shown by divers persons," proceeds the re- gister, " especially by John Spon, sent inito the field of Eedmore to brhig tidings fi-om the same to the citv, that Bang Eichard, late htirfuUii reigning over us, was, through great treason of tlie Duke of Norfolk f, and many others that turned against him, with many other lords and nobility of the north pnrtf', pikoiu^y * Ilullcin's nciswdilli, pp. l;VJ, l;),'l, (.iraftou, vol. ii. p. 155; Piilydoic Virgil, lib. xxv. ]i. 71.'). t Ndil'iilk, iiH \vr hiivr seen, had been true to Kioliiivd, and was MJ.ain (in \\u'. liebl. .\|i|i:irenlly aullieiilie neemint.s of the battle had iiol, UH yel, been leceiveil ill York. 1485. KING EICHAKD THE THIED. 5i21 leighbours in Nottinghamshire, but were intimate chap. riends. Clifton fought in the ranks of the king ; Byron on the side of Eichmond. Previously to their ieparture from their several homes, they had exchanged I solemn oath, that whoever of the two might prove to 3e on the victorious side, he should exert all his influence ;o prevent the confiscation of the estates of his friend, md the consequent ruin of his wife and children. It io happened, that while Chfton was charging with his :oyal master, he received a blow which feUed him to ;he ground. Byron chanced to be at hand, and saw him FaU. Deeply afiected by the mcident, he dashed through the ranks to his assistance, and, covering him with his shield, exhorted him to surrender. Clifton, however, had received his death-wound._ Faintly murmuring that aU was over with him, he collected sufficient strength to be able to remind his friend of his engage- ment, and then expired.* The interesting fact that, iifter the lapse of nearly four centiiries, the descendants af Sir Gervoise Clifton still enjoy the lands possessed by their ancestor, attest that the injunctions of the dying bero were not disregarded by his friend. In the mean time. King Eichard and the survivors of his warrior band continued to fight then- way towards Eichmond. One and all, as they swept onward, they dealt death and havoc round them. The nearer Eichard approached to the person of his adversary, the more he seemed to be fortified by an almost superhuman resolu- tion and strength. Not far in advance of Eichmond, he encountered and unhorsed Sir John Cheney, a gal- lant knight of colossal stature. By a desperate effort, he fought his way to the standard of his adversary. Eichmond was now almost within his grasp. With one stroke he slew Sir WiUiam Brandon, who was waving the banner over the head of his master, and, seizing it * Hutton's Bosworth, p. 117, &c. VII, 2!2C KlXli RICHARD THE THIRD. ciiAi'. liis queen, IKMiry VII., some years after the death of his rival, caused a tomb of many-coloured marble, sur- mounted by a marble effigy of Idchard, to be erected over the spot of his interment.* Unfortunately, the dissolution of the religious Ikjuscs in the reign of Henry VIII. occasioned the demoUtion of St. JVIary's Church and the defacement of its most interesting me- morial. When, in the reign of James I., tlie spot Avas visited by Dr. Christopher Wren, afterivards Dean of Windsor, the ancient tomb had ceased to exi-t. The ground on wliich the monastery of Gi-ey Friars had stood he found in the possession of an influential citizen of Leicester, Mi'. Eobert Heyrick, ^vho over the grave of the usirrper had erected a handsome pillar of stone, * The following lines were engraved on EicharJ's truuli : — " Hie ego, quern vario tellus sub maniiore claudit, Tertius I'l multu voce Ricardus eram ; Nam pab'iro tutor, patraus pro jiu'C nepotis, Dii-uptu tonui Rcgna Britanna fide ; Scxaginta dies, binis duntaxat ademptis, iEstatesque tuli ncn mea sceptra duas. Fortiter in bello, merito desertus al.i jVngli!=, Hex rienrice, tibi, septime, succnbui : At sumptu, pius ipse, tuo, sic ossa decoras, Eegem olimque facis Regis lionore coli. Quatuor exceptis jam tantum, quinque bis aiiuis Acta tricenta quidem, lustra salutis crant, Antcque Septembris undenii luce kaleud;u's Reddideram rubra; debita jura rosa\ At men, quisquis eris, propter commi.'isi prooaro ■Sit minor ut precibus poena fienda tnis." From a ]\IS. in the College of Anus. Sandlbid, Geu. Ili-t. book v. p. l.'iri. Sandford jusdy remarks that those linos "diilov not much"' from those iiiscrlecl li)- lluek in liis "Lite and IJeign of Kiehanl 111. ' Those dinVrenei-H, liowevev, trilHng as llioy at iii-st appear to be, srini 111 llie author not a litlK' eurions, as inauilesling Buck's un- Hrni|)iili,ius partialily lin' Riehanl's nieuiorv. For instance, in the Heroiiil line, jii.ilil is sulisl i tuteil for iiiiiltit ; in the seventh line, {■rrltnin for iiii'ridi ; anil in the touileenlli line, jura petila for de- liilii jinui. See llueU, ill ivenuet, vol. i. p. ."iT7. KING BICHAED THE THIED. 223 the act of flight, the said King Eichard was pierced chap. with numerous deadly wounds, and fell in the field ^^ — .-^ like a brave and most valiant prince."* The death of l*^^" the king decided the fate of the day. A third of his followers are said to have fallen in battle. The remain- der sought safety by a precipitate flight.f The first act of the Earl of Eichmond, on finding himself master of the field, was to fall upon his knees and return thanks to the Almighty for the great victory which He had vouchsafed to him. J This pious act of gratitude having been discharged, he was conducted by Lord Stanley and the Earls of Pembroke and Oxford to a neighbouring eminence, on which the Te Deum was solemnly chanted. In an energetic speech he thanked his army for the great service which it had rendered him, extolling the valour of his followers, and promising them adequate rewards. In the mean time, the battered crown, which had been reft from the helmet of Eichard during his death-struggle, had been discovered concealed under a hawthorn bush, and was carried by Sir Eeginald Bray to Lord Stanley. This opportune circumstance, added to the favourable effect produced by the speech of the victor, seems to have suggested to the Stanleys and their friends the pohcy of seizing advantage of the general enthusiasm, * Croyland Chron. Cont. p. 304. ■f " The blood of the slain tinged the little brook long after the battle, particularly in rain. The battle being fought in a dry sea- son, much of the blood would lodge upon the ground, become baked with the sun, and be the longer in washing off; which in- spired a belief ia the country people, that the rivulet runs blood to this day, and they frequently examine it. Possessed with this opi- nion, they refuse to drink it." — Hutton's Bosworth, p. 127. Accord- ing to Hutton's calculation, Kang Richard lost no more than nine hundred men at the battle of Bosworth, and Eichmond only one hundred. This estimate nearly agi'ees with Grafton's statement, that one thousand men fell on the side of the king, and one hundred on the side of the earl. Vol. ii. pp. 154, 155. I Grafton, vol, ii. p, 155; Poly dore Virgil, lib. xxv. p. 715. 228 KINO KICIIAKD THE THIRD. oiiAP. • During three centuries and a half there stood in the —^ "— town ( )i' lA'ice.stcr tlic venerable hostelry in wliich King ^"^''- Eichard ])as,se(l the night on his march from Notting- ham to IBosworth. Ilutton describes it as "a large, handsome half-timber h(jiis(', with one story projecting over the other." In the days of King liicliard it was styled, in compliment to liim, the " White Boar." To have retained the name, however, after the accession of King Henry, might have exposed the landlord to a rebuke from the authorities, or perhaps an attack by the rabble.* Accordingly, the name of the " Blue Boar " was substituted for the " White." This name the old hostelry retained so late as the j'car 1836, when, not- withstanding it was uninjured by the lapse of age?, and imaltered by the hand of man, it was sacrilegii lusly razed to the ground. " Blue Boar Lane " still denotes the site from wliich Eichard III. marched to his death upon Bosworth Field. Another, and no less interesting reUc, — the camp- bedstead which Eichard carried about with liim, and on which he slept at Leicester, — is, fortunately, stUlin existence. It appears also to have contained his treasure- chest. The material of which it is constructed is oak, being ornamented with panels of different-coloured wood, two of which are carved with designs represeutuig appa- rently the Holy Sepulchre. For nearly tAvo centmies after the battle of Bosworth, tlie old bedstead was allowed to remain, an object of interest and cmiosity, at the old hostelry. Wlien Hutton, liowevor, visited Leicester in 1758, it had come into the possession of for tlic purposo of rocciving (lio head and sliouldovs of the dead, or else ihr ((iflln could .soincoly h.avo been thai of King Kichard. 'J'ho cuHtom of Hlia]iini:: Collins willi such ooiicavilies, lind been dis- loniinncd for ccnluriiH ])n'vioiisly to the death of that monarch. * " 'Thv |ii-(in(l bragging while boai-, -which was his badge, was violcnlly lazed and pbieUcd clown from every sign nnd place where it niigliL be cMiiicl." — (huifloii, vol. ii. p. U!l!. VII. 14857 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 225 slain and murdered, to the great heaviness of this chap. city." It was therefore determined, at that "wofull season," to apply to the Earl of Northumberland for advice.* The corpse of Eichard was treated with the grossest indignities.^ Having been dragged from under a heap of the slain, it was flung across the back of a horse, entirely stripped to the skin, and thus conveyed into Leicester. In front of the dead body sat a pursuivant- at-arms, " Blanc Sanglier ; " his tabard, as if in mockery, glittering with the silver boar, the famous cognizance of the deceased. Thus, "naked and despoiled to the skin," covered with wounds, and besmeared with dust and blood, — a halter round his neck, his head hanging down on one side of the horse, and his legs dangling on the other, was the corpse of Eichard carried into Leicester, — into that very town from which he had so recently ridden forth a mighty warrior and a sceptred king ! His body, in order to satisfy the rnost sceptical that the dreaded usurper had ceased to exist, was ex- posed to the pubhc gaze at one of the fortified gates of Leicester, so that " every man might see and look upon him." Eventually his remains met with decent, if not honourable sepulture. His body, we are told, was " begged " by the monks of the society of Grey Friars, who interred it in the church of St. Mary belonging to their order, then the principal place of worship in Lei- cester. J Feeling that some respect was due to the memory of the last monarch of a mighty fine and the uncle of * Drake's Ebor. p. 120. That Eichard was cruelly betrayed at the battle of Bosworth, there can be no question. Many of his followers, according to Grafton, " came not thither in hope to see the king prosper and prevail, but to hear that he should be shame- fiilly confounded and brought to ruin." — Grafton, vol. ii. p. 154. f Croyl. Chi-on. Cont. p. 504 ; Grafton, vol. ii. p. 156 ; Fabyan, p. 673 ; Hutton, pp. 141, 142. X Hutton, p. 142. Q 230 KlX(i lUCIIARD THE THIRD. ('II vr. Kino' rucliard III. was tlie fatlier of at least two ille- VII. 'o — . — gitiiiuite cliildrcn, a sou and a daughter, to eacli of ^^^''- wlioiu lu' uavc tliL' suruiiuKj of Plauta-i-ciiet. Like his bn)lher, King Edward IV., he ."^eeuis to have been a watchful and an aH(jftioiiatc parent. John of Gloucester, or, as he was soniclinics styled, Jiilni of Pomfret, was knighted by his father on the (occasion of his second coroualiuii at York in 1483. Eigiiteen months after- wards*, few as his years must have Ijccn, we find the Idng a})pointing him governor of Calais ; the royal patent stj'hng him " our beloved son John of Glouces- ter," and cxjiressing "undoubted hope" that, from his singidar gifts of mind and body, he was destined to perform good service to the State.f The fate of a youth Avhose career had promised to be so brilliant, has, we believe, been left um'ecorded. Presuming that he sur\ived his fixther, the probabihty is that he either c(.)urtcd safety by changing his name and hving in ob- scurity, or that he obtained military service in a foreign land. Eichard's only daughter, " Dame Katherine Planta- gcnct," was married, apparentlj^ almost in childhood, to ^^^illiam Hcrljert, Earl of Himtingdon. Li the deed of settlement, which still exists, the Idng guarantees to defray the expenses of their nuptials, and to endow her with a fortune of 400 marks a year. The earl, on his part, engages to make her " a fair and efficient estate of certain of his manors in England, to the yearly value Mdii'ovi'f, Sir luinrr Tw) sdrii, writing in lli.'i.'i, iiilbniis us that he ]irard the stcny voiichol lor by two " viTv gooii, truo, .iiid worthy jiiisiins," — Sir Rnsil Biii.ikc ami ii l\Irs. ('uinbcv, both ol' whom wniilil siM'in 1(1 ha\c lived coiiti'iiiponiiuouslv witJi the laots whiolt tlicy i-clal('(l. Till' lalU'i- was brought liji al l.rioi'^U'r, ami actually wnv the luui diTrss liuninl al llic slake. Xeles niul Queries, vol. iv. jip. 1112, I.'k'., I."iI, New Series; llulton, p. I'.l; ILilsled, vol. ii. jip. IIM, I'.ll". * mil Mar.li I IS,-i. t I.') iiicr'.. t'a'ileia, \ol. \ii. p. -Ji'.i. VII. 14857 KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 227 with the inscription, "Here lies the body of Eichard III, * chap. sometime king of England." " This," says Dr. Wren, "he shewed me walking in the garden, 1612."* But the piUar of stone has shared the fate of the ala- baster effigy. No vestige of it remains. Even local gossip has ceased to point to' the spot which covered the dust of the warrior-king. In the days of Charles I., his grave, " overgrown with nettles and weeds," was not to be traced. "I* There exists a tradition at Leicester, that, at the dis- solution of the monasteries, the coffin of Eichard was removed from its resting-place, and that his ashes were flung into the Soar.| The rumour seems not to be al- together without foundation. Long ago, a stone coffin, said to have been that of King Eichard, was used as a drinking-trough for horses at the White Horse Inn at Leicester. § But even this apocryphal memorial of the usurper no longer exists. When, in 1722, it was seen by the Eev. Samuel Carte, the father of the historian, — although there was still discernible "some appearance of the hollow fitted for containing the head and shoul- ders," — the greater portion of it had yielded to the ravages of time. Thirty-six years afterwards Hutton searched for it, and searched in vain. || * Wren's Parentalia, p. 144. •j- Baker's Chronicle, p. 235 ; Sandford, Gen. Hist, book v. p.434, ed. 1707. X NicLoUs, vol. ii. p. 298. § - Sandford, Gen. Hist, book v. p. 434 ; Hiitton's Bosworth, p. 143; Speed's Description of England, anno 1627. II " I took a joiirney to Leicester in 1758," ^vrites Hutton, " to see a trough which had been the repository of one of the most sing-ular bodies that ever existed, but found it had not withstood the ravages of time. The best intelligence I could obtain was, that it was de- stroyed about the latter end of the reign of George I., and some of the pieces placed as .steps in a cellar, in the same inn where it had served as a trough." — Button's Bosworth, p. 143. With respect to the " appearance of hollow" remarked upon by Mr. Carte, either he must have been mistaken in .supposing that it was constructed a 2 '->32 KINO BICHABD THE THIRD. ('iiAi'. house of a " Latin schoolmaster," ignorant of the ■ — r— names of the authors of his being, or to whom he was 1185. indebted for his maintenance. Once in each quarter ol' the j-ear he Avas AJsiled by a gentleman, who, though lie seemed to take an interest in his welfare, and regularly defrayed the expense of his board and instruetiou, took care to impress on his mind that no relationship existed between them. Once only, there seemed to be a chance of his discovering the secret of his birth ; but it was destined to end in disappointment. On that occasion he was unexpectedly Aisited by his mysterious benefactor, who, taking him with liim, " carried liim to a fine great house, where he i)assed through several stately rooms, in one of which he left him, bidding him stay there." Then there came to him one " finely dressed with a star and garter." who, after having put some questions to him, dismissed him with a ])resent of money. That person, if there be any truth in tliis singular tradition, was King Eichai'd. " Then the forem(.;ntioncd gentleman retm'ned, and carried him back to school." Once more, and for the last time, he was visited by his fi'iend, who, furnishing him with a hoi-se and a proi)er equipment, intimated that he must take a journey Avith him into the country. Their destination ANiLS the field of BosAVorth, Avhere they arrived on the cA e of the memorable battle. On reaching the royal camp, the Ixjy was conducted to the tent of King Eicliard, avIio I'uibraced him and bade him Avelconie. He then disclosed to him the startlinsf fact of liis being his father, promising, at the same time, tliat, in tlie event of his Avinning the approaching battle, he Avould openly acl refinement over poverty. He was unwilling, as he told Sir Thomas Moyle, to forget his knowledge of Latin ; and as the conversation of his fellow-workmen was uncongenial to him, books became his only com- ; panions, and reading his favourite amusement.* Of so romantic a character is the story of Eichard Plantageuet, that we are naturally disposed to treat it with increduhty. And yet aU. the evidence seems to us to be in favour of its being genume. That it was beheved by Sir Thomas Moyle, who, as a contem- porary of the narrator, must have had excellent oppor- tunities of testing its truth, is proved by his having erected a cottage near EastweU Place for the old man, in which he comfortably passed the remainder of his days. Moreover, having held the important office of Chancellor of the Court of Augmentation, Sir Thomas must have been a man of business and of the world, and therefore most unlikely to have been duped by a story which, if uncorroborated, would scarcely have * Peck's Desiderata Cnriosa, lib. vii. pp. 249 — 251. 1485. KING RICHARD THE THIRD. 235 stonemason, more than one interesting local memorial '^ytt^' continues to perpetuate his memory. A well in East- well Park stiU bears his name ; tradition points to an uninscribed tomb in EastweU churchyard as his resting- place ; and, lastly, the very handwriting, which more than three centuries ago recorded his interment, is still in existence.* * From infonnation kindly fm-nislied to the aiitlior by the pre- sent Earl of Wincliilsea and Nottingham. (1861.) t>-lO MARGARET COUNTESS OF RICHMOND. siiid to have been so deeply affected by the disgrace as to luiA'o put an end to his existence; "preferring tlius lo cut short ]iis sorrow rallier than pass a hfe of misery, labouring' undei- so disgraceful a charge." * A fine ;diar-((Miib, in the church of Wimborne ]\Iinster in Dorsetshire, still niaiks the spot where Ue interred the remains of the broken-hearted warrior. It was piously erected, in after years, to the memory of her parent by Ids illustrious daughter. In the fifteenth, and, indeed, as late as the seven- teenth centuiy, the guardianship of wealthy minors, and the wardship of their estates, furnished the sove- reign with the means of enriching many a faithful fol- lower, or perhaps undeserving favourite. Henry VI. accoidingly conferred the wardship of his infant re- lative upon William de la Pole, Eaii and afterwards Duke of Suffolk f, without, however, removing her from tlie protection of her mother. The widowed duchess took up her abode at Bletshoe. where for many years she continued to reside in great magni- ficence. The education of the great heiress, her daughter, is said to have been her prmcipal cai'e. Fortunately the child was gifted by natm-e with a ca]ia(ity and sAveetness of disposition wliich promised to yield valuable fruit. The gentle and learned Dr. Fislier, Bisliop of Rochester, who was afterwaitls her father-confessor, has borne testimony to the tenacity of her memory, the readiness of her AX-it, and the com- preliensivene.ss of her undoi-slanding. ^ " Who her [>rt'ee])tors were," says Piallard. " I know uot."i^ "Wlxo- ever they may ha\e beiai, she probably derived from * Cniyl. Cliron. (\.nl. y. :\W. t A lopy 111' llii' gviint of ilu- wardsliip of M;irt;-:u-et Beaufort to llii' l''..irl nl' Sulliillv will 1h' foninl in llio " Kxcorpta Historic:!," p. 4. \ l''uiirnil Srnuoii of i\t,'irp:iu'i'l Counioss of Ivichmond, by John FiHluT, I'.isliop of IvocIk'sIiT, p. 7. § l!:illiiiil, MoiiioiiM of lit'iinii'il I.ndios, p. 17. MARGARET COUNTESS OF RICHMOND AND DERBY 242 MARGARET COUNTESS OP RICHMOND. liam Duke of SufTolk, cxltIl-iI all his influence to obtain lier IkuhI ('<>r liis .son and heir.* Doubtful wliich of lier two suitors was Uic most eligible, Mar- gai'et, as she alierwanls told the Bishop of Rochester, earnestly besou^lit Jlcaviii to diiect her in her choice. " Being then," says the bishoj), " not fully nine years old, and doubtful in her mind what she were best to do, she asked coiuisel of an old gentlewoman, whom she much loved and trusted, which did advise her to commend herself to St. Nicholas, the patron and helper of all true maidens, and to beseech him to put in her mind what she were best to do. Tliis counsel she fol- lowed, and made her prayer so, full often, but specially that night, when slie should the morrow after make answer of her mind deterniinately. A marvellous thing ! the same night, as I have heard her tell many a time, as slie lay in prayer, calling upon St. Xichulas, whether sU'e])ing or waking she could not assure, but about four of the clock in the morning, one appeared unto her arrayed like a bishop, and, naming unto her luhnund, bade her take him unto her husband.'"f Had the Duke of Suffolk lived, the probabiUty seems to be that ]\largaret's \ ision would have been httle i-e- garded, and that his powerful iniluence with the queen would have induced the king to bestow the hand of his yoiuig kinswoman upon the heir of the De la Poio<. Among the articles of impeachment preferred against the duke Ave find, — "Whereupon the s;ime Duke of Suffolk, since the time of his arrest, hath do [caused] the said ]\birgaret to be miUTied to his said son. "if Xo * .Tnlin di' l.n. Tdlo, Diikc of Siifl'nlk. IIo aflonvanU formed a Hiill nidi-o illiiMlTi l.:i.lv K.ii.^alu'lU I'lan- l.'i^rinol, KiHlcr of King KilwMnI I\'. tiiulur Ring Kiclianl 111. Ho died in M'.)l. t I'^MMcnil Scimon, \^\\ S_'.> ; l.ovd Hiioon's Life ol' Henry VH. in Koincl., vol. i. p. I,'!H. t r.'iHldn lA'tli'i-H, vol. ii. \\ IT). MARGARET COUNTESS OF RICHMOND AND DERBY. This pious and illustrious lady, descended from the sovereigns of the house of Plantagenet, and the ances- tress of the sovereigns of the house of Tudor, was the sole child and heu-ess of John Beaufort, Duke of So- merset, captain-general,, in the reign of Henry YI., of Aquitaine, of the realm of Prance, and of the duchy of Normandy. The duke was great-grandson of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, fourth son of King Ed- ward m. Consequently his daughter, the Lady Mar- garet, was the fourth in descent from that monarch. Her mother was Margaret, daughter of John Lord Beauchamp of Bletshoe, whose wealth and large do- mains she inherited.* The heiress of the house of Lancaster Avas born in 1441. Her birthplace is said to have been Bletshoe, in Bedfordshire, the princely seat of the Beauchamps.f Margaret Beaufort was only in her fourth year when she had the misfortune to lose her illustrious father. Having been accused of treason, and forbidden the court by his kinsman, "King Hemy VI., the duke is * She was a widow at the time of her marriage with the Duke of Somerset, having previously married Sir Oliver St. John of Pen- mark, Glamorganshire. After the death of the duke, she married a third husband, Leo Lord "Welles, who was killed at the battle of Towton in 1461. Her son hj this third marriage, John Viscount Welles, K.G., married Cecily, second daughter of King Edward IV. f Lysons' Magna Brit. vol. i. p. 58. 244 MAROARKT COUNTESS OP KK'IIMOND. gallant service, thai nflci- the battle the king appointed him one •.>, r;inul. Soc. Kd. According- to .•inotliiT iild clironiclcr, lie wiis " .'i goodly gcntloniim and a boau- lifnl piTHon, Willi goodly gifls liolli of nature and grace." — IMVs C'/iroiiir/r, |i. I,S."). f (lriliigo|-'H Biog. llisl. vot i. p. I'd. MARGARET COUNTESS OF RICHMOND. 241 them, not only that ardent piety which distinguished all her actions in after life, but that reverence for learning which induced her to found colleges, and that patronage of learned men which obtained for her the encomiums of Erasmus. Of her hterary attainments, highly as they seem to have been thought of by her contemporaries, we know little more than that she was thoroughly mistress of the French language, and pos- sessed a partial knowledge of the Latin. Later in life it was a matter of regret to her that her knowledge of Latin was so limited.* These facts are not only evi- dence that she appreciated learning, but, — in an age in which Sir Thomas More records it as an extraordinary accomphshment in a female that she was able to read and write, — they prove that the attainments of Mar- garet Beaufort must have been far above the ordinary standard. Her skill in embroidery, which was then the ordinary business and amusement of ladies of high rank, has been especially commended. Several speci- mens of her art were long preserved at Bletshoe ; indeed, not long since, one of them, a bed embroidered by her with the arms of her family, was still in the possession of their descendants.^ Whenever, during any of his progresses through his kingdom, James I. happened to visit Bletshoe, he never failed, we are told, to express a desire to be shown these interesting memo- rials of his illustrious ancestress. Almost from her infancy, the vast wealth and pos- sessions of the Lancastrian heiress led to the great barons coveting her hand for their heirs. Wliile stHl only in her ninth year, we find Henry VI. proposing to bestow her in marriage upon his half-brother, Edmund Tudor, afterwards Earl of Eichmond ; whUe, at the same time, her guardian, the powerful favourite, Wil- * Funeral Sermon, p. 7. t Nichols' Eoyal Wills, p. 366. R 21f> JlARdARKT (lOUNTKSS OP RICHAfOND. such iis iRranic llic ^'iilliuil csfjuire who, forty-six years previously, liad fou-lit Ijy the side of Henry V. at Agiucouit. At the battle of Mortimei's Cinss, the old wan-ior rcfusi'd to fly when (jtlicrs fled, and accordingly, havinc falk'n into tlic hands of the Yorki-t>, his head Avas st'\'(Tcd from his body in the niarki-l-pla'-L' at Here- ford. The marriage hetwreai I\Iurgaret Beaufort and tip- Earl of Richmond took place in 1455. For some time after their union they appear to have resided in Pem- broke Castle, then a jxissession of her brother-in-law, Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke. Their nuptial happi- ness, however, was destined to be of brief duration. In the course of the yt-'ar after their mamage, the death of the young earl left Margaret a widow^ at the age of fifteen. The inscription on his tomb in the cathedj-al of i^l. David's was probably composed in after years by the aceoni])lislied lady who survived him : " Under this marble stone here enclosed, rc-t the bones of that noble lord, Edmund Earl of Pichmond. father and brother to kings, Avho departed out of this world 145(1, the third day of November. On whose soul Almighty Jesu have mercy." About three months after her husband's death, the young countess gave birth, in Pembroke Castle, to the only child Avhich she ever bore, Henry, afterwards King Henry VIL* Many vcnrs afterwards we find her writintr from the town of Calais to her son, dating her leller "this day of St. Anne, that I did bring into this world my good and gracious jirince, king, and only beloved >on."f Por nearly thirty years after the death of IMmund • " 'l'luiiif!;li iiHn wanl in.TvriL'iI to Ilrnrv. snn to lIuni|iliro_v Duke of liuckilii'liMlli, :mi(I lliinily to 'riiminis l".;iil of Piil^v, vrt slic iirvcr liail .■iiiy iiinic cliililicn, :is lliiiiUing it MiHiiiciil I'ov her to Imvc liriuiplit into llii.s world cuu' oiil\ , iiiiil Muh n son." — Foliidon' \'iri/il, |i. 1 ."i."i. f lliiuiiid'n ( 'ollciiioii of l.i'tli'is, p. 1,")7. MARGARET COUNTESS OP RICHMOND. 243 such marriage, however, manifestly ever took place ; and accordingly, reheved from the importunities of his powerful favourite, King Hemy caused the young heiress to be contracted in marriage to his half-brother, Edmund Tudor. It was doubtless in consequence of her extreme youth, that we find six years elapsing before their nuptials were formally solemnized, when, at the age of fourteen, Margaret Beaufort became the bride of Edmund Earl of Eichmond, a bridegroom of twenty-five. There are few passages in domestic history more re- markable, or more interesting, than the rise of the house of Tudor. The founder of the family, if he may be described by so dignified a title, was Owen, the son of one Meredith Tudor who is said to have been a brewer at Beaumaris, in the Isle of Anglesey. Accord- ing to other accounts, the family was an ancient one, being descended from Theodore, a king of North Wales ; the name Theodore having been corrupted into Tudor. Of Meredith Tudor, however, nothing more positive seems to be known than that he was the younger son of a younger son ; that he never held any higher position in society than that of scutifer, or shield- bearer, to one of the bishops of Bangor ; and that, having kiUed a man while in the service of the bishop, he was compelled to fly to the mountains, where he joined the banner of Owen Glendower, then in open rebellion against Henry IV. When, on the death of the great Glendower, iu 1415, his brother-in-law, David Gam, " the one-eyed," came to terms with Henry V. and followed him to the battle of Agincourt, young Owen Tudor, the son of Meredith, was one of the gallant band of Welshmen which accom- panied their chieftain to France. At the battle of Agincourt, when the Dukes of Brabant and Alengon made their furious charge on King Henry's position, the young Welshman is said to have performed such R 2 2 IS MARGARET (JOUNTKSS OK RICIIMOXD. niituro wiiH aireclioiiiitL' ; bIiu was singularly unsus- picious, and was never known t(j liarbour a revenge- ful feeling. She united, with a winning affability, a dignity of demeanour and language which was strik- ingly impressive. Slie was kind and consideiate to her servants, bounteous and Uberal to all. To the sick and needy she was always a frienti Above all things she hated a\ariceand cii\elousne^s. In a word, according to the bishop, eveiy one wlio knew her loved her ; everything slie did oi- said became her.* It appears to have been in the year 1459, about three years after the death of tlie Eail of Pdchmond, that the J'oung widow conferred her hand on Sii- Henry Staflbrd, s(mi of Humphrey Duke of Eueking- hain. Like lierself, he was lineally descended from King Edward HI. Xot long after this event, the signal successes oblained by the Yorkists, the flight of (Jueen ^Margaret into Fiance, and the elevation of the yoLuig Duke of York to the throne by the title of l'>dward IV., threatened the ibrtunes, if not the lives, of the vaiious members of the licnise of Lancastei'. Margaret, indeed, was for a time exempted from pro- sc'ription, being allowed to retain the lands which had descended to her from her father, John Duke of k^onicrset, as well as those which she held in dower ;i< tlie widow of the Earl of Richmond. But, on the other hand, her son, though only four years old, Ava^ attainted, and his estates conferred by Eclwaixl IV. on his brother, the Duke of Clarence. The persevering hostility with which JaNper Tudor piu'sucd the liouse of York involved the infant earl in his uncle's ruin. Jasper hiuLself was dc])rivcd of all his po>. ,"l-t\ S. MAEGAKET COUNraSS OP EICHMOND. 245 as he was styled from the place of his birth, became the husband of the great heiress Margaret Beaufort, and the father of Henry VIE. Their second son, Jasper of Hatfield, was subsequently created Earl of Pembroke, and eventually Duke of Bedford ; the third son, Owen Tudor, became a monk ; and their fourth child and only daughter, Katherine Tudor, died in infancy. It seems to have been immediately after the birth of her yoimgest child, that the marriage of Katherine of Valois and Owen Tudor became known to the world. The princes of the blood were enraged at the indig- nity which had been offered to their house. Her chil- dren were taken from her and committed to the charge of Katherine de la Pole, abbess of Barking, daughter of Michael Earl of Suffolk, who fell at the side of Henry V. at the battle of Agincourt. The queen her- self sought refuge in the abbey of Bermondsey, adjoin- ing Southwark, where she died shortly afterwards, broken-hearted and repentant. Owen Tudor also suf- fered much persecution. On one occasion we find him imprisoned in the dungeons of WaUingford Castle, and on two different occasions effecting his escape from Newgate.* We next discover him skulking in the fastnesses of Wales, wliere he probably contrived to conceal himself tfil liis stepson, Henry VI., came of age, when a smaU annuity was settled upon him out of the privy purse. More than twenty years afterwards, a further trifling boon was conferred upon him ; the king, " out of consideration of the services of that be- loved squire," Owen Tudor, appointing him keeper of his parks in Denbighshire. Henry, it may be observed, seems on no occasion to have acknowledged him as his stepfather. On the breaking out of the civil wars be- tween the houses of York and Lancaster, Owen Tudor naturally took part with the latter. His death was * Leland's Collect, vol. ii. p. 492. b3 •2.-.0 MAnOARCT COUNTKSS OF RICHMOND. liciuifdil:, dui'iii^' licr iiiislorluiKiH, liud experienced the kiiide.sl and most coinjuissioiiiilc tri.'iitineiit from the Jjiidy Hcrhcii and licr husband; and, accordingly, it now bccaiiii' her turn to Kyinpathizo with the widow of the gcnciDUs waiiior, vvlio, tliough th(; fortune of war had tianslcrrcd to Jiiin tlie jio-^-csi-ifinii of her hasband'.s brother, liad ncncithelcss hekl her in tin- gentlest and most hoiioinable captivity. Then, a year afterwards, eiisucil the triuin])liaiit return of the J-^arl of War- wick and the I)uke of Clarence to l:n;_dand, the flight of Edward IV. to the Low Countiics, and the tempo- rary restoiation of Henry VI. Then, once again, I\hirgarct Beaufoit presided as mistress in the hall of Pemludke Castk', and her beloved son was restored to his rights. Among tliost' -who accom])anied the "Kingmaker" to I'-nglaud was .bispei- Tudor, who, lia^^tcning to hi> castle of rcnibi-oke, had the sati-l'action of once more embracing his sisliT-in-law and his m-phew. It wa^ natural that \\\i; distinguished warrior should be anx- ious to introduce tlic youthful head of hi- house to his unck' and sovereign, King Henry \T. ; "and so," says I'olydore \'iigil, " .bispci- took the boy Henry from the wife of the Lord Ilcilxrl, and Imnight him with himself, a little after, when he came to London mito King Henry." * The meek monarch not only smiled giaciously on his nephew, but, impressoil with a mournful foreboding of the niisforlunes which im- pended over his own branch of the lious,. of Luicasler, is said to have predilyili>rc \'il-gil, |>. i;i,'i, Ciiiiul. Soo. I'.tl, MARGARET COUNTESS OF RICHMOND. 247 Tudor, the position of Margaret Beaufort was a difficult, and frequently a perilous one. In the age in which she lived, the sovereigns of England were m the habit of conferring the hands of wealthy widows and dowered vkgins upon their favourites and friends, without much consideration for private feelings. So long, indeed, as her pious and amiable kinsman, Henry VI., sat on the throne, Margaret had little to apprehend from the tyramiy of kings. But the fortunes of the house of York were gradually rising in the ascendant. Her uncle, Edward Duke of Somerset, the powerful head of her family, had recently fallen at the first battle of St. Albans ; while, by the success of the Yorkists, her brother-in-law, Jasper Earl of Pembroke, was rendered as powerless as she was herself. Threatening, however, as were the times, the Coun- tess of Eichmond was permitted to pass the first few years of her widowhood in retirement and tranquillity. Her favourite residence continued to be Pembroke Castle. Here she occupied her time in the strict dis- charge of her rehgious duties, in the performance of acts of charity, and in training up her only cliild to sup- port with discretion and valour the important part which he was destined to play on the theatre of the world. Cold and selfish as was the nature of Henry VII., it was at least to his credit that, in after years, he never failed to pay a grateful tribute to the tender care with which his mother had watched over him in infancy, and her unceasing exertions to render him a pious Christian, an accomplished scholar, and a man of the world. The character of Margaret of Lancaster, as sketched by her father-confessor, the Bishop of Eochester, is a beautiful and a remarkable one. A profound thinker, and deeply read in the literature of the age, she was at the same time unafiected, gentle, and easy of ac- cess to the humble, no less than to the great. Her k4 S.vi MARGABET COUNTESS OF RICHMOND. giuet of Laiicn^kT firwt imposed on herself those se- vx'ie habits of peiiiuice and self-mortification wliich she never relaxed to the close of lier existence. Among otlier pro[)itiatoiy siiflerings which slie inflicted on lierseir, it w:is her custom, tluiiiig certain days of tlie Aveek, to wear shifts and girdles of Jiair next her body, so that, as sJie told her coijf(_--sor, the Bishop of liocliester, her skin was often "pierced therewith."* Not that Margaret was the gloomy ascetic wliich might have Iteen supposed. After her son's acces- sion to the throne, -we find her playing her part, and apparently taking an interest, m the splendid enter- tainments and amusements of his court ; while, of the AN'orldly circle avIio witnessed her social cheerfuhicss, not one, perhajjs, was aware of the secret penances Avhicli she imposed upon herself, or of the bodily tor- ture which, ])robably at that very time, she was en- during. In the year 1481, after an union of two-and-tweuty years, death deprived the Countess of Richmond of her second husband, Sir Henry Stafford. In his ■nill, he styles her " my beloved wife," and, -with the ex- t'eption of some trifling legacies, bequeaths her his entu-e fortune. Among the exeeptiontd items which he wills away, are his " bay courser " to his brother. John Earl of Wiltshire ; a "trapper and four new hoi-se haiiiess of vi'lvet " to his son-in-law, the Earl of l\ich- mond ; and his "grizzled horse "' to his rccei\ er-general, lu'ginald Bray.f It seems to have been somewhat more than a year after f he death of Sir Henry Slallbrd, (hat the Countess of Hiehmond took for her tliird liu>hand Thomas Lord Stanley, al'lerwards llrst I'arl oi' Derby, the per- sonal friend and favourite of I'Mward IV. Their union • t'liiii'inl Sii'moii, (i. 11. t 'IV'Ninmoiilii \'(.'Ui,si:i, Vol. i. p. ;!iM. MARGARET COUNTESS OP RICHMOND 249 the attainder of her beloved child the only misfortune which, at this period, befeU the Countess of Eichmond. By the orders of King Edward, she and her son were committed to the custody of Sir William Herbert ; and accordingly, for some time to come, we find the illus- trious widow residing as a state prisoner in the princely castle, over which she had hitherto been accustomed to rule as mistress. Eight years passed away, and the young earl had entered into his thirteenth year, when further events occurred, which not only effected a revolution in the fortunes of the countess and her son, but also in those of the house of Herbert. An insurrection in Wales, fomented by the indefatigable Jasper Tudor, had been recently suppressed by Sir Wilham Herbert. The result was, that Jasper, already stripped of his lands and seigniories, was now deprived also of his earldom of Pembroke, which was conferred upon his victorious adversary. Subsequently, a formidable Lancastrian ris- ing in the north of England reversed the fortunes of the two famihes. Thither the new Earl of Pembroke, and his brother Sir Eichard Herbert, were advancing at the head of their Welsh retainers, when, in the neigh- bourhood of Banbury, they were attacked by the Lancastrian forces under the command of Sir Henry Neville, and taken prisoners. Forthwith the gallant brothers were beheaded at Northampton.* Margaret * Lord Herbert was advanced to the earldom of Pembroke on the 27th of May 1468. Previously to his quitting Pembroke for the vrars, -we find him exacting a rather remarkable vow from his wife that, in the event of his death, she would lead a life of celibacy. " And, wyfe, that ye remember your promise to me, to take the ordre of wydowhood, as ye may be the better master of your own, to performe my wyUe, and to helpe my children, as I love and trust you," &c. — Lord Pembroke's Last Will, Sir E. Brydges' Peerage, vol. iii. p. 113. Lord Pembroke met with his defeat on the 26tli of July 1469. •J.51 MARGARET COUNTESS OP RICHMOND. biiiij;- my f^osUy futlu;)- llic bisslio])pe of Itoclicsler aliter Uicliiud lilziuincs. Ami nowe i-Ctsincc; I fully conferme itt us Jiir as ill iiii; lyi'Ui, bcscjcliyug iny lord god that he will this my poor wyll ucccpt to the Hemedye of my wrctcheMl lyllb and iich.'Ve of my synfull sowle And that he will ^yve me his grace to pforme the same. And also lor my more merite and rjuyetne^se of my sowle In dowtful thyngs ptenyng t(j the same, I avowc to ynu, my lorde of liochester, to whome lam and hatli bene, sence the first tyme I see you admj'tted, verely determed (as to my cheffe trustye Counselloure) to owe myne obedyenoe In all thyngs concin'iig the well and pfite of my sowle."* As the wife of the lord steward of the household, and of one of the Idng's principal advisers and fiiends. ^hirgaret of Lancaster Avas necessarily compelled t<_i I'diego her favourite habits of seclusion, and to reside with her lord in the vi(,'inity of the comt. For a brief inlen-al only — in consequence of the death of Ed- • Unfortunately, tlicrc is no date affixed to this remarkable ilocunient. As Fitzjames, however, is spoken of as being tben Bisli"]) of London, it must have been made at least as late as loOtj. when lie was translated to that see, about two years after the death of Margaret's third husband, Lord Stanley. AVe have an instance of a similar vow having been taken, about five years afterwards (1.3th July 1.^)11), by Catlierine of York, sixth daiighter of King Kdward IV. and Avidow of William Courtenay, Earl ol' Pevon. who died on the Klili of the ]ireeediiig month of May : — " In the naiuo of the Father, tlio Son, and llie Holy Ghost. 1, Calheriue Court- ne3'e, Coinili'ss of ])c\-oiisliire, widow, and not wedded, nor unto any man assured, promise and ui.ake a vow to(.iod,and to our Lady, and to all the company of heaven, in the pivsenee of you, wor- shipful fallicr ill fioil, Ivieliard Uishoji of London, for to bo elia.ste of my body, and truly and div.MiiIv shall keep mo ehaste, tor this time forward, as long as my life lasteth, aller tlio rule el' St. Paul. In nniiiinc I'alris et Filii, ol Spirilus Saneli." — Laiisdoirne MS. from llie K'e^islei- of I'll . janies. liisliop of London: i]U0ted ill Sir II. Nieolas' Privy Purse P.xpenses ol' I'.ii.'. of "I'ork, Pref. 11. .\xvii. MAEGAKET COUNTESS OP EICHMOND. 251 his successes at Barnet and Tewkesbury, led to the re-committal of the unfortunate Henry to the Tower, and to Jasper Tudor becoming once more a fugitive. He made an attempt, indeed, to defend his castle of Pembroke against the Yorkists ; but, finding himself closely besieged by Morgan ap Thomas, a powerful partisan of the house of York, he with great diffi- culty made his escape with his nephew to Tenby, from which port they were so fortunate as to obtain shipping to the French coast. Thus, for many eventful years to come, was the Countess of Eichmond deprived of the society of her only and beloved child. Those years of separation appear to have been principally passed by her at a noble mansion which she erected at CoUyweston, in Northamptonshire. Here we find her residing in com- parative seclusion, employing her time, as heretofore, in the rigid discharge of her moral and rehgious duties, in performing acts of charity and benevolence, and in hterary study and pursuits. " Her piety," says Bishop Fisher, " was so great that she would be at her devotions soon after five o'clock in the morning, and Avith the most ardent zeal went through all the re- hgious offices appointed by the Church of Eome." * In her youth she had acquked no inconsiderable knowledge of medicine ; and accordingly, later in life, she devoted a portion of every day to prescribing for and nursing the sick. She was often heard to remark that, could the Christian princes of Europe be prevailed upon to make war against their infidel enemy, the Turk, she would cheerfully follow the army as their laundress.j" It was probably at this period of her life that Mar- * Ballard's Memoirs of Illustrious Ladies, p. 12 ; Funeral Ser- mon, p. 12. I Funeral Sermon, p. 34. 'ir,(\ MARCIARET COUNTESS OF ftlClIMON'n. It WiiH not tlic'icfuiv till llicliard III. liad removed ills iic|.licws rroiii liiw i)atli, not till the Pi-iiicess Eliza- l)L'tli hiid bccoiiic llic heiress of tlie housf; of York, that T\1aiL;;uct and her friends seem lo have enter- taiiK'd any sanguine hopes of leiir-tatiii^' the line of John of Gaunt on the thione of England. Then it was that Margaret icsolved lo waive her own superior claims to the crown in favour of her son, and io use her utmost endeavours to a<(onipli~l) his marriage with Elizabeth. Piously and (Miergetically she set herself to work. As a Christian, she hoped to be the means of terminating that unholy contest, which for j'ears had drenched the scaffold and the battle-field with blood; while, as a mother, no indui'cment could be moi'e powerful, than the ho])e of recoveiing a beloved son from exile, and laising him to the throne on which his ancestors had sat in days oi' yoi'c. " She being a wi-e woman," says I'olyiloi-e Virgil, " after the slaughter of King Edward's children was known, began to hope well of her son's fortune; sn|)])osing that that deed would without doubt- prove for the benefit of the common- wealth, if it might chanct' the blood of KingHeniy W. and of King I'.dward should be intermingled by afliiiity, and so two pernicious factions, bj- conjoining of both houses, be utterly taken away."* These thoughts were not impos-ibly ]ia-^ing in the mind of the Countess of Richmond, when, in the sum- mer of 14S,'], she accidentally encountered, on the road between Wori'cster and Bridgnorth, her cousin, Henry Stafl'ord, Duke of liuckingham. iKsccndcd, like her- self, from King Mdward 111., Hnckingham was also uncle by marriage to the Princess Elizabeth; his duchess, Katherine Woodville, being >ircd — and the cliarf^es siujaiiist. Iicr were clearly not unfounded — • I'clyili.iv Virgil, ji. lit(;, C'mud. ^oc. Ed. MARGARET COUNTESS OF RICHMOND. 255 ward IV., and the imprisonment of her husband by Eichard III. — was she enabled to escape from its heartlessness and fatigues. It suited the pohcy of Eichard, on ascending the throne, not only to libe- rate Lord Stanley from the Tower, but to re-appoint him steward of the household ; and consequently Mar- garet again becanie the denizen of a court, and an unwilling participator in its pageants and pleasures. At the gorgeous coronation of the usurper, she sup- ported the mantle of the queen. At the banquet, which took place the same evening, in the great hall at Westminster, she sat on the dais near the queen, on a seat of honour. The project of imiting the rival houses of York and Lancaster, by the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth with Henry Earl of Eichmond, is said to have origi- nated with Morton, Bishop of Ely. JSTo sooner was it divulged to Margaret than it received her hearty ap- proval. Since the year 1471, when death had carried off the unhappy Henry VI. and his no less iU-fated heir, Edward Prince of Wales, the Countess of Eich- mond had been regarded by the adherents of the Eed Eose as the rightful possessor of the throne. So long, however, as Edward IV. Hved, — so long, indeed, as his orphan sons were permitted to remain in the land of the hving, — any attempt to assert the claims of the house of Lancaster would have been equally perilous and uuAvise. Even during the usurpation of Eichard, and when his unpopularity was at its height, such an attempt, unless sanctioned and supported by the partisans of the house of York, would doubtless have proved a signal and disastrous failure. The influence and authority of the latter were stni all-powerful in the land ; while, on the other hand, of the once formidable kinsmen and friends of the house of Lancaster, a very few only had escaped a tragical end, and these were attainted and in exile. 262 ]>fAUQAEET COUN'TESS OP RICIIMOXD. n'S])()iHl('iicc wliJclj inotlicr respects ])ossosses no extra- ordiiinry iiilt'icst. As rc;.7U(ls the clioice of language and .style, Murgaiet's letters aie much su])cri()r to those of her son. To the young queen, her daughter-in-law, the example and advice of Margaret must have been of incalculable advantage. Li private life, Margaret seems to have treated and loved her as a daughter, whiji-, on all great occasions of state, slie did homage to lier, a~ became a subject. She tended and cheered Elizabeth during her several confinements, and figiu-es ci mspieuously in the accounts of the \'arious mai'riages and clrristenings of her grandchildren. When, in November 1487, the king made his triumj^hant entiy into London, after his vii'tory at Stoke, we find the queen and the Idng's mother witnt'ssiiig the spectacle togetlier from a Anndow in St ]\hiry's Hospital, Bishopsgate Without.* Again, when, on the day preceding her coronation, Elizabeth pro- I'ct'ded by water from Greenwich to the Tower, the countess sat in the royal barge with her beautiful daughter-in-law. f When Henry kept the feast of Christmas, at the palace of Greenwich, in 14S7, "the king sat at dinner on Christmas-day in the great chamber, and the queen and my lady the king's mother, with the ladies, in the queen's chamber.";*: At the splendid festival of the order of the Ciartei' held at Wuidsor in 14SS, we find the Countess of Richmond seated by the side of her royal daughter-in-law in tlie gorgeous chariot which conveyed (hem from die castle to St. (leorge's Clia])el§ The san\e year we find her enjoying llu' Chrislmas festivities with the king and qu<'en al- their palace of Ivichmond, in Surrey. !| And again, when Hciny ki>pl his l<:aster at Hertford in 1480, vrc lind lier, willi her husband the I'-arl of IVrbv, and * Ki'ImihIV; ( '()I1,m|. \u\. iv. ]i. -.'l.s. + Ibid. t "'i'l- 1'- '-'•■"■ § ii'Hi. p. -jsw. II Ibid. p. ■2ro. MARGARET COUNTESS OE RICHMOND. 257 way to his castle of Brecknock iii Wales, where the Bishop of Ely, Margaret's confidant ia the affair of the projected marriage, was residing in honourable durance. So fair a chance of inducing her powerful kinsman to forsake the cause of the usurper, and to unite with her in endeavouring to restore the fortunes of their house, was naturally turned to account by the Countess of Richmond. The arguments which she made use of to the duke produced, though not immediately, the effect which she desired. So convinced did he become, as he told the Bishop of Ely, of the great advantage which would accrue to the commonwealth by a mar- riage between the Earl of Eichmond and the Princess Elizabeth, that he resolved to hazard life and fortune in the attempt to carry it into execution. Could the queen-dowager, he added, be induced to consent to it, he doubted not that the proud boar, whose tusks had gored so many innocent persons, would be brought to confusion, that peace would be restored to the dis- tracted kingdom, and the rightful heir to the throne. The queen-dowager and her beautiful daughter were at this time inmates of the sanctuary at Westminster, where they were closely watched by the spies, and guarded by the soldiers, of the usurper. To commu- nicate with them was not only a most difficult task, but it reqmred in an eminent degree, in whoever might undertake it, the united quahties of prudence, fidehty, and courage. Fortunately, such an individual was forthcoming in the person of one Lewis, a Welsh priest and physician, whom, " because he was a grave man and of no small experience, Margaret was wont oftentimes to confer fi'eely withal, and with hun famiharly to lament her adversity."* Fortunately, also, Lewis had formerly been consulted, " because he was a very * Polydore Virgil, p. 195, Camd. Soc. Ed. S 204 MARGARET COUNTESS OP RICHMOND. purposes. A considerable portion of her wealth was expended in charities ; her influence was employed in promoting the interests of religion and learning. The admirable example which slie set by her own taste and judgment, is said to have had a highly beneficial effect in instiUing into the high-born ladies of the land a rehsh for hteraturo, and for such accomplisliments as tend to refine or dignify human nature* Tlie society in which she especially delighted was that of the pious and learned divines of the age. The erudite friend of Erasmus, Hugh Oldman, afterwards Bishop of Exeter, was one of her chaplains. A no less learned and pious man. John Fox, afterwards Bishop of Eochester, was her father-confessor. f Neither must it be forgotten tliat slie patronized the celebrated Caxton, and that Wynken de Worde was her printer. There is extant a rare translation of "Waltere Hylton's Scala Perfectionis," wliich purports to be " encUshed and printed by com- mand of Margaret Countess of Eichmond and Derby, in Will Caxton's house, by Wynkyn de Worde, anno salutis 1484." At the end of the volume are the fol- io whig verses : — " This heavenly book, more precious than gold, Was late direct with great humilitj-, * Ilalstcd's Mem. of IMnrgarol Beaufort, p. 170. ■|- Henry VII. tlms writes to his mother, proposing to olovalo her pious confessor to the lnucli ofprelali s: — " Bvthe promotion of snch a man, I know well if should encourage many oiliers to live vir- tuously, and to t.ike such ways as ho doth, which aliould be a good example to many others licreaftcr. Ilowbcit. without your plensiure kn(3wn, I will not move him. nor tempt him ihoroin. And tlierc- fore T licscieh you, thai I may know your mind and ploa.sure in that bcli.iir, which shall be followed as much a.s (Jod will give mc grace. I have, in my days, |in.niolcd many n man miadvisedly, and I woiUd now niaki' snnm recompense to pivmote some g(iod and virtuous riKii, whirli 1 ddulit not ^ll(mld liesi please tlod, who ever preserve yon in g(.nd lieallli and Ion- life." Knmi the .\rchives in St. John's ( 'iilli'Mv l''nnerMl Sii'ini>n, p. 11. MARGAEET COUNTESS OF RICHMOND. " 259 with having sent money, " messages, writings, and tokens to the earl her son," " desiring, procuring, and stirring " him up to invade the reahn. Her princely birth, and the consideration due to so powerful a sub- ject as Lord Stanley, in all probability saved her from the scaffold. In other respects she was treated with severity. She was deprived by parhament of all titles of honour, and declared to be incapable of in- heriting any estate or dignity. Her possessions were conferred on Lord Stanley for life, with remainder to the crown after his death.* Lastly, she was ordered to be kept in close confinement in one of the country residences of her lord, ia order that henceforth she should be prevented from " sending any messenger either to her son or friends, or practising anything at aU against the king." f Dispossessed of her titles and estates, — her principal partisans, moreover, having been either hurried to the block or driven into exile, — any woman, less pious and less high-spirited than Margaret Beaufort, would pro- bably have yielded herself up to despair. On the con- trary, the courage of this illustrious lady appears to have risen with the occasion. Satisfied that the cause in which she had embarked was a holy one, and placing unbounded rehance in the justice of Heaven, we find her setting at defiance the vigilance and power of the implacable Eichard, and engagmg, at the earhest opportunity, in a new conspiracy against his throne. Her principal agents appear to have been her old and faithful servitor, Eeginald Bray ; her confessor, Chris- topher Urswicke ; and her kinsman and devoted adhe- rent, Hugh Conway.J By means of these cautious, * Eot. Pari. vol. vi. p. 250. t Polydore Virgil, p. 204, Camd. Soc. Ed. t Hugh, afterwards Sir Hugh, Conway, had married Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas Courtenay, fifth Earl of Devonshire, by Margaret Beaufort, daughter of John first Earl of Somerset. His wife there- a 2 2G6 MAEGAEET COUNTESS OF EICHMOND. Greek every day than some prebendaries read Latin in one week." Neither were Margaret's descendants in the third generation Ifs.s learned and accompUshed. Mary Queen of Scots, at the age of fifteen, addressed the court of FraiicL', at the Louvre, in a Latin speech of her own composition. Of tlie three last sentences which Lady Jane Grey penned before going to her execu- tion, one was written in Latin and another in Greek. The story related by Eoger Ascham, of hi.s surprking her, at Broadgate in Leicestershire, reading the Phaedo of Plato in the origmal Greek while a gay hunting-party was going on in the park, is probably famUiar to every reader. To find a parallel for the erudition which threw a redeeming grace over society in the days of the Tudors, we must go back to the twelfth century, when Abelard — a theologian, a grammarian, a philo- sopher, a poet, an astronomer, a musician, an orator, a mathematician — was the master of half a dozen languages, and played upon many musical instniment:^ ; — the days when Eloise, inspirmg the nuns of the Para- clete with her own passionate love for learning, taught them not only ti'1f '\^''alter dTEve- reux, Lord Ferrers de Chartley, treated him with the greatest kindness and consideration, bringing him up " in all Idnds of civility, and well and honoui'ably edu- cating him."f As the Lady Herbert was the mother of four s(5ns and six daughters, the capti\ity of the young earl, enlivened by the society of so many youthful com- panions, was in all probabiHty not an u-ksome one. Henry had been more than nine years under the charge' of the Herberts, when the flight of Edward IV. into France enabled his uncle, Jasper Tudor, to return frt)m exile, and to resume possession of Ms princely castle. On this occasion it was, that the latter cai'ried with him his young nephew to court, for the pm'pose of introducing him to his uncle, King Henry ^'I. Then it was, too, while " washing his hands at a great feast." if tliat King Henry is said to have progui^stioated the fiiture greatness of his youthful kinsman. "This is he," he exclaimed, "who shall quietly possess what we and our adversaries do now contend for." " K. Ilcnri}. ]\[y lord ^''i Soinorsel, ■nli.it youth is tLat Of wliiim yovi si'i'in (o liavo so (oiuli'i- ciiv .' iSdtnerset. My lujjo, il is young Homy Karl of Kichmond. • Hot. r.'nl. vol. vi. p. 40t>. t 1 lull's Clnoiiiolo, p. L\S7. t Lord Bacon iu Kcuud, vol. i. p. Cod. HENRY EARL OF RICHMOJfD AFXEEWAEDS K1X8 HKNEI VII. ■iqfl laqoioQ jo x{%u aq;; tio tiopismbm m? xj^m sag-iSB /pB8U tjoiqii. 'i5^I /jBtiuBf jo isjg svf^ SB q;.Tiq SjXinajj jo a^Bp axj; xg; ppioAV ;t 'ssbo aq; aq siq^. jj 'iCep ,S8u3y •;§ iqj jf^Bp s^guny -^g 5[oo}sini ^^ siawaq; s^pj^Aou ,, jo jaquos -nBj;:). aq; ^tsqi Sainmsajd 2q /ou-Bdaiostp sq; loj ^utioooB ii;Tio hbo SM. ;Bq; 'SuiomAnoo os st 'pjiqo snoranq^sod b uaaq SuiABq iljmajj JO jooad ni 'raupjre-c) -jpj jCq paotippB aonapiAa aqx "ZQI 'd 'sja; -;aq; jo Tiot}oa]^oQ s^piBAiojj '[99f l] i]n£ q^gg -zta 'jfBp s,atroY •;g no ppOAi ^vp. o:>ni ratq ^qSnojq aqs ;Bq^ jaq^jom HMO s^Xinajj JO aonapiAa aq; aABq aA\. 'puBq jaq^o aq; uq "gg 'd '-bsg; 'janpjiBg sauiBf /q soBjajj '-jl^ -nau b;i^ 'sBaipay -luag; -u^ Xinajj •dJ«9? 'saoi:ftginbnt mg}uom-}sod niBjjao jo jf^uoq^iiB aqi vlq ^ loj pi'Bjivai 'B SB 'oi^M. 'jw.o:;sdai[Q jo (^J;^qJ^JJ piofj raBi]; "1TA\. ''^•^ n95[i3:), puB paraio^s sbm sx^sbq 95[oj;qraa^ :^'Bt[^ ssojQ s,J[^raT:^Iopi[ jo ep^isq si^^ laij'B Zpioi[s sbav ^j "AI pJfBA^pa Snrg; jfq snoTSsassod iTai^:^ jo amzios 9t[:^ o:^ puB 'japure^^i? iidv[% o; p9| 'ssoiQ s,a:9xni;io]/\[ jo gp^Bq 9i[:^ ()b '95[0jqTn9j JO pBg; ladsBf 'gpun siq jo ;B9j9p puB Tioip9jjngm QX[% u91|;a\. p|0 giB9j£ anqj j£|no sbav 9jj; •J9q:}Bj siq; jo q:;B9p 9q; i9gjB ST{:;uora 99ii];; :^noqB ujoq U99q SuTABt{ 'p][Tqo snoumi['}sod b sbav 9J3; ^'l^ifl •i'>39^ 9t[^ ni if^JB9 'sap^ tt^nog 'apsBQ 95[oiqni9jj ui njoq s'bml ':j9si9uiog JO 95[n(]; uqof jo i9:jqSnBp '^aiBSjBpf iq 'pnoraT^oig; JO pBg; punnipg; jo 'j^jup A\uo 9ij^ 'aoonx iHJsiaH ■iiA imm oun saaTMaMV ^ ,'aMOlHOn 10 IMS MMIH HENRY EAEL OF RICHMOND. 275 K. Henri/. Come hither, England's hope. If secret powers Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss. His looks are fuU of peaceful majesty ; His head by nature framed to wear a crown ; His hand to wield a sceptre ; and himself Likely, in time, to bless a regal throne. Make much of him, my lords ; for this is he Must help you more than you are hurt by me." King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. So. 6. It has been said — and there are many persons for whom the question has its interest — that Henry VI. placed his young kinsman as a scholar in that noble seminary which he had recently foimded under the "stately brow " of Windsor Castle, — " Where grateful Science stiU adores Her Henry's holy shade." Supposing it to be true that Henry VII. received any part of his education at Eton, the period of his scholarship must have been at this particular time, namely, between the middle of October 1470, when Henry VI. was re- stored to the throne, and the end of March the follow- ing year, when Edward IV. returned in triumph to his dominions. Sandford, indeed, distinctly states that, at that particular time, when the " meek usurper " pointed out his nephew to his courtiers as destined hereafter to wear the crown, the young earl was " a scholar in Eton College." Moreover, according to a modern historian and diligent inquirer, "after being presented to King Henry VI., he was placed as a scholar at Eton, a col- lege founded by that pious monarch id his more pro- sperous days." * The same writer also informs us that when Henry VI. made his famous prediction he " was attending a feast at his magnificent foundation of Eton, shortly after Henry of Eichmond had been placed there;" adding that, on the subsequent advance of * Halsted's Life of Margaret Beaufort, p. 76. T 2 270 1II:NRY EAEL op RICHMOND. Edward IV. lowurds Loudon, "Jasper Tudor felt the ut'ccssity of witlidrawiii^' tlie young ourl, his nephew, iVom Eton, and seudin^^ liirn ii^,'ain, for greater security, to Wales."* These statenieuts are so circumstantial, and at the sauu' time so interesting, that it seems a pity to question their accuracy. Unfortunately, however, tliey appear to rest on no higher authority than a dry statement in the pages of the genealogist Sandford, Avhose liistory was not composed tiU more than two centuries after the events wliich he chronicles. " Wliile he was a child," says Sandford, " und a .^rholar in Eton ( 'olh'ije, he was there, by Kmg Henry XI., prophetiaiUy entitled the decider of the then difference between that prince and King Edward rV."f Sandford seems to quote the chronicler Hall as his authority, and as Hall AN'us not only himself an Etonian, but ap- pears to liave been a scholar at Eton so early as when lleniy M^I. sat on the throne;};, we naturally turn with curiosity to his pages. But if the reference to Sandford -was unsatisfactoi-y, still more disappoiutuig is tin.' ix'ference to Hall ; the passage pointed to by Sandford containing no more than the hackneyed stoiy of the king's prediction of his nephew's greatness, with- out any mention of or allusion to Eton whatever. i§ Thus, not only faU to the ground the interesting details * Ilalsted's Life of JMiirsMret Beaufort, pp. TO, 78. I Sunilford's Gen. Hist. 1hu.1< vi. p. 4(13. \ This is prcsumiiiLj lliMt llall roniJiinod more limn five years at Eton. Henry VII. ilicil in 1. '>(!'.) : Hall left Ktou for King's College in 1511. lii'^istruni IJefifnle, p. ',1, edit. ITS I. § His words are: — " .lasper Karl nf Pembroke took this cliild, beiof; his nepliew, out of the cuslodv of the l.adv Herlurt, and at his relurn he hrout^rlit (lie cliiM to l.omtoii to Kiiit; Henry VI., whom when Ihe king had a good ,>>paee l>v himself seeretly he- Iwilden, and marked bolji his wit and his likelv lowardness, ho s;vid to Hueli priiiers as wefe ihen wilh him, ' So surely this is he to whom liolh XVI' and our adversiiiii's, Ua\ iug the jiossession of all things, Hhall herealler give vovm and place.'" — Hall's Chronicle, Y>. iHl- 'S'Jl ■'■I '!! '■i"lf>l V.niuimuv-) ,ip K,i.niiiii.)]\] | ■i;oi: ■'! om ^mp o.nscip 1! possAuIxo in:i[ 'A',inquii}i; ju oihikj ,)i(i JOIJU pOpVOHOl] Sl!.\V Ol[ O.Kr|OC| A"|l.lOl[S p.V)1!p '[[lAV isiii sii{ XII inq 'A.nio.vi![diuoo i[|iav jnomq.vunu oicj p,)ip^i!A\ ^pio ?ou p«i[ puo ,n[jj -siioriooiipoad pjipnoif jo ojuj oqj Ajp-Uisn t;} i«}i[} .loinomus luu 04 posiuuud oaiij JO 8S.moo tii[} 'oouo .10^ •o>[o.iquie)j jo pvg o^^'i oij^ jo .io}i[8uup puooos oi[; V'^q.iojj pm!j\[ Ki^vj oq'j uo suoi-j -oojpj su[ poxif puq ai[ 'opsi:^ a>[oaqraO(j ui jurej^siio^ ^TrBsiw^d UT raiq ppq pvq s^aoqjojj oq^ ^t'q:> oun; oqi gmariQ; -iO-iSoj jo Smpoj joqjos ^^ps 13 Aq poja^^iq -raa SBAV 9[rs:o su^ qtiq^ sn uuqjin sjopraojqo aq; ^ng; •jajSTJOire'j JO osnoq oq; jo apq Sunojf aqi o; Avo^q i[AT}9q u ssapqnop si3AV 'raiq aaAO poqo;a!AV i^io^oAop OS pBq pnB paAoj ^papua; os oqA joqiom u uio^ pa^uredos aq 0% 'pooqp^up siq jo sauaos auqiun;} put) i^dd^q aqi raojj paqsrireq aq oj^ -l-'Plo wuiaA' aAij ecAV aq aams aApiSnj u 10 lauosud v uaoq joq^i.i pui[ aq 5Bqi raiq p|o; iauajj 'iuiJ^j^ug; ui aomi:)uiviiboi! sjjuo aq^ apura sainraraoQ ap dqTi[j 'spjUAVjayu Sao[ 'tioq^ •sindl sno^Tjad puB j£ii3ajp iiaa'j.inoj joj ^si^j 01 pain^sop SBM. qoiqAi a|Txa ut? aouararaoo pnoraqoxg; jo Xjiiog pqi 'jBal q^uaagijg siq pa^ajdraoo puq aq ajojaq 'snqj, ■VLvaai Xj^uasajd [{ijqs aAV :(da>[ ajaAi iCaq^ ^aAi Aioq : ajaoms ^{qTjqojd ajaAV 'ap^ra aaaAV ifaq; uaqAv araii aqi iv 'sasiraoad asaqj; ^uaAapqAv uosjad Jiiv3 K({ raaq; uo papqjUT aq o; iCinfui Jo Suojav on jajjns ppiOAv aq iBq; uiaq^ Suisimoad jJpuiaps 'pa5[q i^aq^ %V3d jaAaiBqAi ui puB 'su Suo| sb suoiuiuiop siq ui apisaj o^ araoapAi aiaAi jfaqi ^Bq^ 'jaAaAvoq 'uiaqi pajiissu ag qTij:)qnop aq o^ uosiinj puq Xaq^ uiaq^ spjuAV -0^ ]jTAv pooS asoqAv jo '■Aw3%'\uq jo oy[x\(j SutuSiai aq^ 'sTouBJ^ JO aaAvod aq-} ur mou aioAV Xaqx •op!];\[ 'ig ^u puB]^ o^ paAU'juoo Xaq'; if^i^noiyTp nuios x['(ta\. S Xtro^^ug JO saaoqs aq^ spaBAVo; uiaqi aAOjp 'jsaduia; ^uaptA y •aNOWHOia so nuva. iSNaii sas 280 iienhy earl of kichmond. su])iiioiics.s in the cause of Richard HI. at the battle of Jkwwortli, Henry wiis iiiuirily indebted for his victory. Neiuly two centuries uCter her death, the body of the Lady Maud was discovered in " a fair coffin of stone," in Beverley Minster. The corpse was covered with cloth of gold, with sUppers embroidered with silk upon the feet, "and therewith a wax lamp, a candle, and plate-candlestick, " * Great was the annoyance and disj)lea6ure of Ed- ward rV. when the intelligence reached him tliat not only had Jasper Tudor eflected his escape into Brittany with his nephew, but that they had met with a kind and coiu'teous welcome from Duke Francis. Agents were immediately despatched by him to the court of Brit^ tany, who, by promises of " great and sumptuous rewards," endeavoured to induce the duke to deliver up the persons of the exiled earls. An im worthy com- promise was the result. Unwilling to incm* the odium, which would liave attached to liis name had he com- plied with the demands of the EngUsh monarch, the duke replied that he had solemnly promised the earls his protection, and that his honour forbad his breaking his ^vord. On the other hand, he guaranteed Uiat the exiles should either be detamed in close custody, or else that they should be so vigilantly Avatched as cfTectually to prevent their causing "displeasm'e or prejudice " to the English monarch. The duke kept liis word ; not indeed to the exiled earls, but to King Ed\vard. The uncle and nephew were ibrlhwith separated from one anotlier ; tlicir Enghsh attendants were dismissed, and none but native Bretons allowed to attend their persons.'!' Four years seem to liave I'lajised before any further attempt was made by I'^lward IV. to secure tlie pei^son * DiiKiliilo, MS. A(Wi(icm.s (o lii.s Uiu-oii:igo; Sir E. Brydgca' Ti'cr.M^M', v(.l. ii. p. 'Ml. t llivU's (_'liiiiini.U', jip. 801, 305. HENRY EARL OF. EICHMOND. 277 which we have given of Henry of Eichmond's scholar- ship at Eton, but we are compelled to record our doubt whether, in fact, he was ever educated at Eton at aU. Immediately after the fatal battle of Tewkesbury had restored Edward IV. to his throne, we find Jasper Tudor hurrying back to Wales with the young earl, his nephew. Thither he was followed by one Eoger Vaughan, a man "both strong of people and of friends," whom King Edward privately despatched to Pembroke, in hopes of entrapping and seizing the person of the indefatigable Jasper. Fortunately, however, his friends discovered the snare which was laid for him, and accordingly, having seized " the said Eoger within the town, he cut off his head."* But if Edward was desirous of getting Jasper Tudor into his power, still more anxious was he to obtain possession of the person of the young Earl of Eichmond, who, by the recent death of Henry VI., and of his son, Edward Prince of Wales, was now the nearest male heir of the house of Lancaster. Accordingly, Edward no sooner ascertained that Jasper Tudor was preparing to defend himself at Pembroke, than he commissioned one Morgan Thomas to beleaguer the castle with an adeqviate force. Within the space of eight days, so completely, we are told, had the besieging party " environed it with a ditch and a trench," that, but for a diversion made by David Tho- mas, a brother of Morgan, the two earls must have fallen into the hands of their foes. The faithful David performed a no less important act of kindness by con- ducting them in safety to Tenby, from whence they were fortunate enough, as we have already mentioned, to obtain sliipping for France. Scarcely, however, had they time to congratulate themselves on their escape from their enemies, when fresh perils encountered them. * Polydore Virgil, pp. 154, 155, Camd. Soc. Ed. ; Hall's Chronicle, p. 302. r 3 282 HENKY EARL OP RICHMOND. and honour, and high in the esteem of his royal master. It had so happened that at the time when Duke Francis ratified his disreputable treaty with the English prelate, Chenlet was aljsent in the country. LiteUigence, however, no sooner reached him of the arrest of the EngHsh earl, than he repaired to court, and presented himself Ijefore the duke. With great boldness and energy, he inveighed against the act of gross injustice which had been perpetrated in his absence. Should the Earl of Eichmond, he said, set but one foot out of Brittany, death would inevitably be his fate. In that case, what would the world say of the prince who had broken faith with " a most uinocent young gentleman," and liad dehvered him into the hands of liis persecutors ? Surely it would brand his name with " slander and infamy " for ever. M()\f(l by tliese arguments, the duke forthmth d(.'s|)aUlied to St. Malo his chief treasurer, Peter Lau- dois, t'xhorting him to use his utmost endeavom-s to regain jjosscssion of the person of the young eai'l. Finding the ambassadors still at St. Malo, " abiding the Avind," Landois contrived to amuse them with some plausible pretence for his visit, while, m the mean time, his agents succeeded in obttiining access to the sick earl, to whom tlicy privately communicated their good intentions, and eventually succeeded in removing him, " almost half dead," into a neighbouring snnctuiuy. Defrauded not only of their prisoner but of theii' gold, whicli they liud ex]iendetl in bribes to the courtiers of Duke Francis, Bisliop Stillington and his colleagues were mituridly in tlie higliest degree indignant. The Avily ]5reton, liowexer, wns prepared with his answere antl aigiinu'iits. lie insisted, on tlie one hand, that tlie escajH' of the English earl was owing to their own negligence, while, on the oilier hand, he assured them, that, HO coniplelely had the Duke of Brittany tlic in- leresl.s of the Englisli monarch at heart, that, at all HENRY EARL OF RICHMOND. 279 Lady Maud might beeome the wife of the Earl of Eichmond. * Having thus been encouraged to hope that the object of his affections would one day become his, doubtless his exile was rendered the more insupportable. That, at a later period, Henry, at least on one occasion, visited Wales in secret and disguise, httle question seems to exist. Shall we, then, be considered too romantic, in presuming that the Lady Maud was the object of his wanderings? His perilous adventures in Wales are said to have been sung by more than one contemporary Welsh bard. " Many wild and beautiful compositions," we are told, "are yet extant, in which, under the emblem of the eagle and the Hon, according to the allegorical poetry of the age, his sojourn is described. "■|' On one occasion his hfe seems to have been in immi- nent peril. "In the ancient castle of Tremostyn, in Flintshire," says Pennant, " is a great room at the end of a long gallery, said by the tradition of the place to have been the lodging of Henry VH, when Earl of Eichmond ; for he resided secretly in Wales at the time he was supposed to have been in Bretagne, While Henry," adds Pennant, " was thus lurking at Mostyn, a party of Eichard's forces arrived there on suspicion, and proceeded to search the castle. He was about to dine, but had just time to leap out of a back window and make his escape by means of a hole, which is to this day called the King's Hole."$ The Lady Maud, it may be mentioned, subsequently became the wife of Henry Percy, fourth Earl of Northumberland, to whose * Dugdale's Baronage, vol. ii, p. 258 ; Testament^ Vetusta, vol. i. p. 305. f Halsted's Life of Margaret Beaufort, pp. 147, 148. f Sir Koger Mostyn, the lord of the castle, subsequently attended the young earl to the field of Bosworth. When the battle was over, Henry invited him to follow him to court. " No," replied the sturdy "Welshman, "IwUl dwell among mine own people." Hut- ton's Battle of Bosworth, Nichols' ed. p. 134. T 4 •iHt HENRY EAEL OF RICHMOND. ends wliicli they had in vic;w, was a marriage between the J*]iu'l ol' Kichmond and the heiress of the house of Vurk. The chief coiispirubjrs, if they maybe so styled, were the Duke of BuckiiiLiham, the Bishop of Ely, the Countess ol' Richmond, and Sir lieginald Bniy; the latter " a man most hiitliful and trusty, and the chief dealer in this eiins[)iraey." * Ko sooner were their plans pro- ])erly matured, than secret emissaries were sent into Brittany to the exiled earl, who, as may be readily supposed, eagerly embraced the views of his friends, and in due time solemnly pledged his troth to the I'linoess Elizabeth. By means of the large sums of money with which they contrived h> furnish him, added to some assistance which he received fi-om the Duke of Brittany, he Avas enabled in little more than two months to muster an armed force consisting of five thousand men. In the mean time Buckingham sent liiiTi word that he hitended to raise his standard on the ISih of ( )(tober, and by that time Henry guaranteed to come to his assistance. Aeiordingly, on the 12th of Octol)er, Henry set sail from St. Malo, with his troops embarked on board a fleet consisting of forty ships. He had hoped to fvilfil the injunctions of his friends Ijy landmg at Plymouth on the ISlh. Unfortunately, however, his ships were dis- persed by a tempest, ;ind when at length tluy arrived ofl"the coiist of I)orst>lshire, he had the mortilioation to bcliold it lined with the troops of the enemy. Not long iifteiwards, intelligence reached him of the siul fate of Buckingham, as well as of the diseoniliture and flight of his friends in every quarter. No choice, therefore, remained to him but to return to Ihittauy, ^vhilher arcoi'dingly he relui'lanlly steered his course. On his jirrival at Vannes, lleiuy had tlie satisfac- ti(^|i of finding there Courlenay, Bishop of I'l.xeter; the Mari|uis of |)ois('t, son of the (JU^■en-llo^vager ; her * roi^iiuiL' Viigii, J). i',»i;, (.\iiiul. ^ii.c. Ed. HBWEY EAEL OP EICHMOND. 281 of Ills youthful rival. At the end of that time — judging that he was insecure on his throne so long as " one of the offsprings of the blood of King Henry VI. was yet hving and in good health " * — he despatched to the court of Brittany Eobert StiQington, Bishop of Bath and Wells, from whose eloquence and talents he probably anticipated the most favourable results. Stil- lington, and the "ambassadors" who were associated with him, arrived at their destination, " well laden with no small store of gold," prepared evidently to bribe or deceive, as they might judge most likely to advance the interests of their lord and master. They had even the impudence to assert to the Duke of Brittany, that the only object of King Edward in desiring the return of his young kinsman to England, was to unite him in marriage with his eldest daughter, the Princess EUza- beth, and thereby prevent future discords and give in- creased security to his throne, f Accordingly — .whether duped by these plausible pre- tences, whether tempted by Enghsh gold, or whether unwilling to give offence to so powerful a monarch as Edward- — Duke Francis was mean enough to break faith with the friendless, and to deHver up the heir of Lancaster into the hands of the ambassadors. St. Malo was fixed upon by the bishop and his col- leagues as the place of their embarkation for England, and thither accordingly they carried their unfortunate prisoner. JSTever, heretofore, had the young earl been in such imminent peril. The consideration of the mis- fortunes which threatened him is said to have deeply affected his health. " The Earl of Eichmond," says Hall, " knowing that he was going toward his death, for very pensiveness and inward thought fell into a fervent and a sore ague." J Fortunately he had a friend in one John Chenlet^, a courtier of integrity * HaU, p. 322. f 1^^- P- 323. | Ibid. § Hall, in another place (p. 323), calls him John Cheynet. 28G HENRY EARL OF RICHMOND. of his afTiiirs was entirely confided to his treasurer, Landois, the .son of a tailor. Richard's emissaries, therefore, addressed themselves to Landois, who listened greedily to their overtures. Thus the position of Ilenry again became perilous in the extreme. For- tunately, however, tliere were traitors about the person of King Eichard, who secretly communicated to the Bishop of Ely, then in exile in Flanders, the nature of the negotiations which were pending at the court of Brittany. Thither, then, for the purpose of apprizing the earl of his danger, the bishop despatched Urswicke, a priest who had formerly been employed by the Countess of Richmond on similar secret missions. Urs- wicke found Henry at Vannes, closely watched by the agents of Landois. Fortunately, however, Duke Francis was by this time convalescent. Moreover, it so hap- pened that he was residing near the borders of Fiaiue, into which country Henry had obtained the permission of the French king, Cliarles VJLii., to vriih- draw himself. In that direction, therefore, he despatched his uncle, the Earl of Pembroke, and his other fiiends, giving out that the object of their jovuTiey was to con- gratulate the duke on his recovery, while in reality they had secret instructions to tm-n off the road at a certain point, and to make the best of their way into France.* This initiatory attempt to elude the \igilance of Peter Landois and his agents proving successful, Hemy inti- mated tliat he was about to visit a friend iu tlie neigh- bourhood, and, attended only by live servant^?, rode iinsusi)ectcd out of the (own. Having proceeded foiu" or live miles along the main road, he entered a wood, in which he ('xchangcd dresses with one of his atteu- diints. The rest of tlio journey to tlie borders was perfonncd along lanes and bywtiys ; Henry riding * Tolyduic Virgil, p. 200, C'luud. Soc EJ. ; Graflon, vol. ii. p. 140. HENEY EAEL OF RICHMOND. 283 events, the Earl of Eiclimond should be kept in durance as close, and his person watched with as much vigi- lance, as before the arrival of the embassy at the court of Brittany. "And so," remarks the old chronicler, " the King of England, for his money, pmchased the keeping of his enemy for three days, and no more." * From this period, Henry of Eichmond appears to have principally resided in the castle of Vannes, a sea- port town in Brittany, where, though narrowly watched and closely guarded by the soldiers of Duke Francis, he in other respects met with honoiu^able entertain- ment. Another scene of his captivity was the castle of Elven, one of the towers of which is said to be stiU pointed out as containing the apartments in which he was lodged. Having continually in his imagination the terrible possibihty of being delivered up to the merciless Edward, Henry now resolved, as the only means of defeating his mahce, to quahfy himself for the priesthood. For this purpose he caused himself to be instructed in the learned lore of the age, and especially ia Latia, a language in which, in after years, he corresponded with Cardinal Adrian and others. He also made himself master of French, in which latter language, as Lord Bacon informs us, he had read " most books that were of any worth." f Thus, not unprofitably, does Henry of Eichmond appear to have passed his time till the year 1483, when the premature death of Edward IV. released the Duke of Brittany from his not very creditable engagements with the Enghsh court. Then followed the usurpation of Eichard HI,, the murder of Edward V. and his brother the Duke of York, and the revival of the long- dormant hopes of the partisans of the house of Lan- caster. As we have already intimated, the principal means by which the latter trusted to accomphsh the * Hall, p, 324. t Lord Bacon in Kennet, voj, j, p. 637. 288 IIENBY EARL OF RICHMOND. I'licouraginrf ; the sums of 'mDiicy which they trans- mitted to him were considerable. It may Ijc mentioned that one of the confidential per- sons employed to carry on the secret correspondence between the two countries was one Humphrey Brereton, who represents himself to have been an esquire, and a servant to Lord Stanley, tlie husband of the Countess of Eiclimond. To Brereton apparently is due the cre- dit of having been the author of a very curious metri- cal narrative, entitled " The most pleasant Sontr of Lady Bessy," a production which, though it doubtless con- tains a much greater amount of fiction than truth, is nevertheless rendered highly interesting from the insight which it affords us into the manners and cu.~.toms of a ]iast age, and, when borne out by the testimony of other ^v^iters, is not without historical value. Brereton's ac- count ol' his mission to the exiled earl is one of the mo^t graphic in his narrative. He was intrusted, it seems, with a considerable sum of money, which had been sul)scribed by Henry's friends in England, as well as Avith " a love-letter and a ring of gold," which the Prin- cess Elizabeth— the "Lady Bessy" of the song — com- manded him to deliver to her betrothed " beyond the sea." " Without all doubt at Livei-pool lie took sliipping upon the sci, Witli a swift wind and a liart He so sailed upon the sea." It had been previously to Henrys llight from Vannes that Brereton was intrusted with his lirst mission. On landing in Brittany he describes liinisolf as proceed- ing to !i monastery, about scvt'u leagues tVom Ivennes, wiu'ie he disccncrcd Henry sitting in an archery ground, ill Lady Maud, now Coun- tess of Northumberland. Li eonse(]uence, -however, of some vuiaccountMbU> ai'cideuts drlaying the joimiey of his messenger, thest- projiosals !ipi)arently were never ' M/'iiKiiicN di' ('(iiiiniiiics, tonir ii. p. - ll!. HENBT EAEL OP RICHMOND. 287 behind his own servant, who acted the part of the master of the company. In this manner they entered France. In the mean time, having completed his negotiation with the Enghsh envoys, Landois was on the point of issuing orders for the seizm-e of Henry's person, when his flight was discovered. Not a moment was lost in despatching a body of horsemen in pursuit of him. Their ride must have been an exciting one ; the pur- suers reaching the borders of Brittany only an hour after the earl had crossed them. Safe in the French terri- tory, Henry rode on without further molestation to Angers, the capital of Anjou, where he had the satis- faction of rejoining the Earl of Pembroke and his other friends.* From hence he proceeded to the French court at Langeais on the Loire, where not only did he meet with a kind reception from Charles Vin., but that monarch subsequently carried him with him to Montargis, and afterwards to Paris. During his stay at Montargis, Henry had the great satisfaction of being joined by John de Vere, Earl of Oxford, whose high rank, unimpeachable integrity, and great experience in military afl&,irs, led him to be regarded as one of the most considerable of the partisans of the Pi,ed Eose. The earl had for some years been imprisoned in the fortress of Ham, ia Picardy, from v^ch place the governor. Sir James Blunt, had recently allowed him to escape. Blunt himseK accompanied the earl to Montargis, and tendered his services to the Earl of Eichmond. Henry was now afforded the means of keeping up, with much more facility than heretofore, his correspondence with his friends in England. Their letters urged him to prepare for a second invasion of England ; the intel- ligence, which they sent him, became gradually more * Poljdore Virgil, pp. 206, 207, Camd. Soc. Ed. ; Grafton, vol. ii. pp. 140, 141. 292 HENRY EARL OF RICHMOND. promised the king ; and I pray you ordain them jackets of my livery, and I shall content you at your meeliiig with me." * Pursuing Iuh march from Shrewsbury to Stafford, Henry was joined near Newport by Sir Gilbert Talbot, sheriff of Shropshire, who brought to his aid two thousand armed men, the retainers of his nephew, the young Earl of Shrewsbury, then a minor. On reach- ing Lichfield he passed the night in his camp without the waUs of that town. The next morning he entered it in triumph. Between Lichfield and Tamworth, a distance of about seven miles, he was joined by Sir Walter Hungerford and Sir Thomas Bourchier ; and on the following day by Sir John Savage, Sir Bryan Sand- ford, and Sir Simon Digby. During this part of his progress a rather remarkable incident occurred to Henry. His troops had quitted Lichfield for Tam- worth, late in the evening of the 18th of August. At night the leaders of his army were apprized, to tlieir consternation, that he was missing. According to the ordinary version of the story, Avith such, intentness was Henry musing on the state of bis affairs, that he not only contrived to separate himself from liis army, but was left without any knowledge of its track. To have questioned the persons whom he met, or even to have asked the way to Tamworth, might have betrayed him • Paston Letters, vol. ii. p. l.^O. It would appear, bv tliis letter, that the different corps of which the royal army was comjKised wore the liveries of their resjiectivc lords or chiefs. The colour of the coats worn by Sir William Stanley's retainers .il the l^attle of Bosworth was red. " Sir William Stanley, tluit noble knight, Ten llumsj\nd red-oo.'ils tlmt diiy had he." Soiiii of' the Lady Besstj. Til the s.'UiK' contenipor.'iiy poem we re:\d o( " Sir .Inhn Siivnjfe' fiflren hundred wliile hoodr*, Kor lliev will fitflit nnd never llee." HENKY EARL OF RICHMOND. 289 " I shall thee tell, said the porter then ; The Prince of England know shall ye ; Lo where he sits at the butts certain, "With other lords two or three. He weareth a gown of velvet black. And it is cutted above the knee ; With a long visage, and pale and black : Thereby know that prince may ye." Brereton approaches and kneels before the earl : — " When Humphrey came before that prince, He faUeth down upon his knee ; He delivered the letters which Bessy sent. And so did he the merles three ; A rich ring with a stone. Thereof the prince glad was he ; He took the ring of Humphrey then, And kissed the ring times three." To Brereton personally, Henry's manner is described as having been singularly cold and repulsive. With that extreme cautiousness, which he had acquired from long acquaintance with treachery and danger, he kept the poet waiting for three weeks before he could be induced to vouchsafe him an answer. In the mean time Henry had stood in need of no ex- traordinary solicitations from his friends to induce him to hurry his preparations for a second descent on the shores of England. The news which he continued to receive from thence was sufficiently cheering. The popularity which Richard for a time had enjoyed was on the wane. Few of his nobles were sincerely at- tached to his cause. Those in whom he most confided, and on whom he had lavished the greatest favours, were among the number of his secret foes. The great diffi- culty vdth which Henry had to contend was the want of soldiers. Eepeatedly he had apphed to Charles VHI. to furnish hun with levies; but though the French king secretly and sincerely wished him success, he had u 294 HENRY EARL OF RICIIMO.VD. mond and the Stanleys, is said to have taken place in a small close, called the Hall Close, about one hundred yards beliind the " Three Tons," at Atlieivtone, a mise- rable hostelry in which Henry subsequently passed the night.* " Stitiiiey. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm ! llicliinoiiiL All comfort that the dark night can afford Be to thy person, noble father-in-law. Tell mc how fares our noble mother? Stanlcij. I, by attorney, bless tlioe from thy mother, Who prays continually for Eichmond's good." King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3. The details of the great battle of Bosworth have already been related in our memoir of Eichard lEL Ha\'ing succeeded in despoiling liis rival of his crown and of his life, Henry proceeded to Leicester, where he was solemnly proclaimed King of England by sound of trumpet, and where he rested for two days. He then advanced by easy stages towards London ; the people e\'i'ry where receiving him with loud acclama- tions, and " with great joy clapping their hands, and shouting, ' King Henry ! King Hemy ! ' "" f Although it w;us the policy of Henry to avoid exciting the joalouy of his new subjects by anything hke the display of mihtary triumph, he nevertheless entered the metro- polis with the state befitting a king. ^Vt Shoreditch he ^vas met by the lord-mayor and aldermen in their scarlet rol)es, and was conducted by them to St. Paul's Cathedral. Heri' he solemnly returned thanks for the greiit victory which Tleaven had vouchsiil'ed to him; at the same linu^ ofTering up the three bannei's Avhich had wjived over him on the field of battle. The first, we lire lold, bore the image of St. ( u'orge ; the second ihiitora, (iery dr.'igon, the device of Cadwidlader ; and the third, which wiis of yellow tartan, that of a dun • Hiillnii's U...-\voiili, PI). ,">7, III, Ci'. ■]■ (iiiili.'ji, viil. ii. p. I,"i7. HENRY EARL OF RICHMOND. 291 delivered. The Lady Katherine subsequently became the wife of George Grey, Earl of Kent. It was on the 31st of July 1485, that Henry of Eieh- mond set sail from Harfleur on his memorable expedi- tion to invade England. On the 6th of August he disem- barked his troops at Milford Haven, in South Wales, without having encountered the shghtest opposition. "When he was come into the land," says a contemporary chronicler, " he incontinently kneeled down upon the earth, and, with meek countenance and pure devotion, began this psalm, Indica me, Deus, et decerne causam meam; the which when he had finished to the end, and kissed the ground meekly and reverently, he made the sign of the cross upon him, and commanded such as were about him, boldly, in the name of God and St. George, to set forward." * Marching through Wales by way of Haverfordwest, Cardigan, New Town, and Welshpool, Henry guided his troops, by " rugged and indirect tracts," f from Milford Haven to Shrewsbury. The Welsh flocked from all quarters to do honour to their countryman. Many of the influential landholders — and among them Sir Eice ap Thomas, who held a commission from King Eichard to uphold his authority in those parts — rallied round the standard of the invader. The country-people freely supphed his troops with provisions. " Well- beloved friend," writes the Duke of Norfolk to John Paston, " I commend me to you, letting you to under- stand that the king's enemies be a-land. Wherefore," proceeds the duke, " I pray ye that ye meet with me at Bury, for, by the grace of God, I purpose to he at Bury as upon Tuesday night ; and that ye bring with you such company of tall men as ye may goodly make at my cost and charge, besides that which ye have * Fabyan's Chronicle, p. 672. f Croyland Chronicle, p. 501. D 2 200 HENRY EAEL OF EICHMOND. It was true that those foreign princes preferred no pre- tensions to the throne of England, and consequently their dormant claims might be regarded as having been tacitly transferred to the head of the English branch of the house of Lancaster. But, on the other hand, the descent of the house of Beaufort from Edward HL was a corrupted one. An act of parhament, indeed, had legitimatized the offspring of John of Gaunt and Catherine Swynford, but the patent contamed an ex- press exception which excluded them from succession to the throne.* Moreover, Henry himself was not the immediate heir to the throne resident in England, for his mother, the Countess of Eichmond, was still living. To Henry this imperfect title to the crown was a source of never-ceasing uneasiness. True it is that he coiUd easily have prevailed on his subjects to recognize the pretensions of the heiress of the popular house of York, and have claimed the crown in right of being her consort. This was an alternative, however, from which he shrank with invincible repugnance. His aversion to the house of York was an inveterate one ; and, moreover, his haughty spirit revolted from the notion of being indebted for his sceptre to his own wife. Other unpalatable reflections also suggested them- selves. Should Elizabeth die without beai'ing him diil- scended, quartering the royal arms of England, the present sove- reigns of Spain, Naples, and Snxonj-, the Emperors of the Brazils and of Austria, the Grjind Duke of Tuscany, 1S.0. Biu-ke's Royal Families, vol. ii. p. v. • The author is aw.ire that in the original patent which legi- fiinntized the house of Beaufort, tliero is no reservation which ]iri'ilu(led their suci'osNion to the throne; the words " crceptd i/i;/iii/(ilr regali" hiiving been iiiserled at ft later date, apparently hy Henry IV. Kxeerjila llislovioji. p. l,'),'l. Surely, however, the jiinliiMiK'nt wliieli eonfirnied that patent could seareely have con- |i'iii|i1m(iiI (lie piiHHiliility of the deseendnjits of Catherine Swynford aHci'Mdiiip; (he lluoni', iw il' lliiy did, that their procedure would be lu'ld as liiiiding hy |)oslerity. HENEY EAEL OF KICHMOND. 293 to the enemy. At night he is said to have slept at a small village, the name of which he was ignorant of and afraid to inquire. Happily he escaped the scouts of King Eichard, and the next morning rejoiced the hearts of his captains by riding safely into the camp at Tamworth. Such is the manner in which Henry's mysterious absence appears to have been accounted for at the time. It seems much more probable, how- ever, that when he separated himself from his army it was for the purpose of keeping a secret appointment with one of the false and powerful friends of the usurper, of whom more than one was prepared, at the first safe opportunity, to desert his standard. Henry, indeed, almost intimated to his generals that such was the case. " He had stepped out of the road," he said, " with design to converse with some gentlemen in his interest." * On the evening of the day on which he rejoined his camp (19th August), Henry, attended by a small escort, rode to Atherstone, about nine miles distant from Tamworth and about the same distance from the field of Bosworth. At Atherstone a clandestine interview had been preconcerted between him and two of Eichard's most powerful subjects, Thomas Lord Stan- ley and his brother Sfr William. Had Lord Stanley been at liberty to follow the bent of his own inchnations, he would probably long since have openly united his forces with those of his son-in-law. Eichard, however as we have already recorded, entertaining suspicions of his loyalty, had seized the person of his son. Lord Strange, whom he retained as an hostage for his father's fidehty. Thus, any open act of defection on the part of Lord Stanley might at any moment cost him the hfe of his son. The memorable interview between Henry of Eich- * Hutton's Battle of Boswortli, p. 56. u3 298 ]II;NRY earl of RICHMOND. asserting liis title to be founded on the just right of inht'i-ituiKi', as well as the " sure judgment of God, "vvlio liail given him the victory over his enemy in the field ; " and, lastly, we read it in the words which he ordered to be iccc^rded on liis magnificent tomb in Westminster Abbey, in which is repeated the same remarkable conviction that he was indebted for his crown to the God of battles.* From the parliament, wliich met at Westminster on the 7th of November 1485, Henry received every con- cession which he could reasonably desire. The inheri- tance of the crown was declared to be entailed on the heirs of his body lawfully begotten. The claims of the house of York were not e\eu adverted to. The name of the rrincess EHzabeth was not even mentioned. Subse- quently the Church of Eome was induced by Henry to gi\e its sanction to his claims. A papal buU was issui'd, which enumerated his several titles to the crown of England, and denounced excommunication on all ptTsons whatsoever who might conspire to detkrone liim or his successors. C'(jnsidering the cheerfulness -with which the people of England had received Heniy as their so\ereigu, it mii:rht have been imagined that he would have gladly availed himself of an early opportunity of gra- tifying their wishes and prejuthoes by making the Priucess Elizabeth his wife. So httle inchuation, how- * The following remarkalilo piissagc ooouvs in Tlonrv's last will, (l:il<'(l at Kiclimond in Siiiny, tlu' .'ilst of March 1">0",1, three wocks liclorc hi« ili'alh: — " Also wc will that our executors eause to be made an image of a king repicsonling our own jH'i-son, the s;mie to lie of I inihcr, covered and wi'ouglii with plate o( line gxdd, in manner of an armed man, and upon ihe Niine armour a eoat-arniour oi' our aniiH (if I'ligland and Franee enamelled, with n sword and spurs aiToidingly ; ami llie njiid image to kneel U]H>n a table of silver and gilt, and liolding lulwixl his hands llie croirn irliicli it {iltth-^iil God til i/irf 1IH with till' rii'titri/ of our finiiii/, at our Jirst field." Testa- iMonla \'elnsla, vol. i. pp. ,'il-"J. HENET EARL OF EICHMOND. 295 COW. From St. Paul's, Henry proceeded to the neigh- bouring palace of the Bishop of London, where, in the same apartments in which his predecessor had knelt and sworn fealty to the unfortunate Edward V., he took up his residence till the day of his coronation. That important ceremony was performed, without any great magnificence, at Westminster, on the 30th of October 1485. The poHcy of Henry, apparently, was not to dazzle but to please. Accordingly, instead of lavishing vast sums on a single ceremonial which could last but a few hours, he regaled the citizens of London with a succession of plays, pastimes, and other diver- sions, which could scarcely fail to obtain favour for him in their eyes.* If the title of Eichard HI. to the throne had been a defective one, still more unsatisfactory was that of Henry VIL. Of the rival houses of York and Lancas- ter, the former, by hneal descent, had a prior claim to the crown. Of that illustrious house, no fewer than seven legitimate heirs were then Hving. They consisted of the Ladies Ehzabeth, Cecily, Anne, Katherine, and Bridget Plantagenet, daughters of Edward IV. ; and of Edward Earl of Warwick and his sister the Lady Margaret Plantagenet, the children of the late Duke of Clarence. But, presuming the claims of the house of Lancaster to have been equal, or even superior, to those of the house of York, the title of Henry Tudor to the crovra, by right of iaheritance, was altogether indefen- sible. That title was founded on his descent from John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, by his third -wife and former mistress, Catherine Swynford. But John of Gaunt had left lawful issue by his first and second wives, the descendants from whom were to be found in the royal families of Castile, Portugal, and Germany, f * Grafton, vol. ii. p. 158 ; Fabyan, p. 673. t From the first marriage of John of Gaunt with Blanche, the great heiress of Henry Plantagenet, Duke of Lancaster, are' de- u4 300 IIBNRY EAEL OF RICHMOND. affection in private life, and which have rendered t've'u indifferent kings popular. The two great ob- jects of his existence were the accumulation of riches and the niiuutenauee of his kingly power. His abihties were unquestionably of a high order, and as a sovereign he had his merits. Industry and vigour characterized his administration of pubhc affairs. Several salutary laws were passed during his reign. Though peace was one of the objects which he had nearest at heart, yet he shrank not from war when he regarded it as necessary. If he was cautious, it was not because he was timid ; if he was severe, it was from pohcy, and not because he was cruel. His private life was unstained by sensuahty. But with these remai'ks our commendations of King Henry must end. The good which resulted from his rule seems to be attributable rather to accidental or selfish causes, than to any abstract desire to render liis sub- jects prosperous and happy. If he exalted the posi- tion of the middle classes, it was for the purpose of diminisliing the power of the barons. If he humbled the barons, it was to invest himself with arbitrary authority. If he encouraged commerce, it was be- cause it poured gold into his own coffers. Thus, if his reign chanced to be neither an unprospeix)us nor an inglorious one, it was not so much because he re- garded the interests of his subjects, but because their ulterests happened to be identical with his o^\^l. The great stain on his private character was unquestionably his insatiable avarice. The srrcat blessing derived from his accession was the termination which it put to the bloody and devastating wars belwoen the rivtd houses ()(' York and Lancaster. King ITcuiy expired at liis favourite palace of Richmond in Surrey, on tlic '22nd of April 1509, in tlu' filly third ynw of his age and the twenty-foiuth of his reign. For st)nie years past lie had been subject HENRY EARL OP RICHMOND. 297 dren, her next sister would of course succeed to her rights. Again, should Ehzabeth produce him offspring and happen to die before him, the partisans of the house of York would naturally regard the claims of his children as superior to his own, and, consequently, would either permit him to reign by mere sufferance, or perhaps rebel against his power. In the fifteenth century, a great " victorie in bataile " between two rival claimants to a throne was considered as no less indicating the will of Heaven, and decisive to which side the right belonged, than the result of a judicial trial by combat between two private indivi- duals was regarded as a determinate test of innocence or guilt. Of this temper of the times Henry resolved to avail himself. Accordingly, partly on the pretext of a special and divine dispensation of Providence, as manifested by his late victory, partly on the plea of right of conquest, and partly on the formal recogni- tion of his authority by parhament, he decided on founding his title to the throne. The plea of right by conquest would probably have been set forth more prominently by him, but that he dreaded the offence which it would have given, not only to his enemies, but to his Mends. Even Wilham the Norman had shrunk from basing his claim on the right of conquest tiU he had firmly estabhshed himself on the throne of the Saxon. How anxious Henry was to repudiate aJl notion that he derived any title to the crown through his con- sort, — how anxious to have it understood that it was to the sword, even more than to his claims by heredi- tary descent, that he was indebted for his sceptre, is more than once discernible in his pohcy. We trace it in the fact of his causing his coronation to precede his marriage with the heu:ess of the Plantagenets ; m the fact of his putting off her coronation from month to month, and almost from year to year ; in the sig- nificant words which he addressed to parliament, :i02 HENRY EARL OP RICHMOND. was held before him, he stretched forth his hands and embraced it, iiiiiking reverent endeavours to hft up his liead as it approaclu'd. The agonies of death lasted for twenty-SL'Von hours. During this time he suffered the most exta-ucialing tortures. His groans and suppli- cations for relief and succour pierced the hearts of the bystanders. " my blessed Jesus ! " he was heard to exclaim, " O my Lord, deliver me ! Dehver my soul from these deadly pangs, from this corruptible body! dehver my soul from e\erlasting death ! " At length the relief which he had so earnestly prayed for came to his aid ; the first Tudor king of England ceased to exist.* King Henry was the father of three sons and four daughters. Ai'thur, his first-born, died in his six- teenth year ; Henry succeeded him as eighth king of England of that ]iame ; Edmund, his tliird sou, died almost ui infancy. Of his four daughters, two died young ; Margaret, the eldest surviving one. became the wife of James IV. of Scotland ; and Mary espoused Louis XII., King of France. • IIai-1. MS. quoted in S. Tui-ner's Middle Ages, vol. iv. p. 101. HENRY EARL OF RICHMOND. 299 ever, did he manifest to fulfil the solemn promises which he had made, that the delay provoked the interference of parhament. Accordingly, on the occasion of the Commons presenting him with the customary grant of tonnage and poundage for hfe, they accompanied it with a prayer that he would espouse the princess, " which marriage," they said, " they hoped God would bless with a progeny of the race of kings." This pro- ceeding had evidently been preconcerted with the Upper House ; since no sooner had the speaker, Sir Thomas Lovell, uttered the words, than the lords spiritual and temporal rose from their seats, and by bowing to the throne intimated their concurrence with the wishes of the Commons.* However unpalatable to Henry may have been this display of partiality for the house of York, he carefully concealed his displeasure, and graciously signified his wilhngness to gratify their wishes. His nuptials with Ehzabeth were appointed to take place on the 18th of January following, on which day they were accordingly solemnized. If Henry had shown unwillingness to lead his beau- tiful consort to the altar, he manifested no less disin- clination to see her crowned. It was not till they had been married a year and a hah", nor tiU she had given birth to an heir to the throne, that he was in- duced to give orders for the ceremony of her coro- nation. Nor even then, probably, would his consent have been wrung from him, but that the dissatisfaction of his subjects began to be too loudly expressed to be any longer disregarded with safety. Whatever amount of interest is attached to the story of Henry VII., ceases from the day on which he exchanged a helmet for a crown. Eeserved, sus- picious, and unsociable, he seems to have been endowed with none of those amiable quahties which secure * Eot. Pari. vol. vi. p. 278. HENET EAKL OF EICHMOND. 301 to attacks of the gout, which had latterly affected his lungs, and eventually induced an incurable consump- tion. Henry had always been an attentive observer of his rehgious duties. He had not only founded several convents of the Dominican and Franciscan orders, but it had been his custom to cause collects to be repeated for him in different churches, and to send to persons eminent for their piety, sohcitiag the be- nefit of their prayers. These acts of devotion, how- ever, seem to have failed in affording him peace at the last. Feeling his end approachuig, he expressed the deepest contrition for his past offences. He forgave all offences against the State, with the exception of felony and murder. He discharged, from his private funds, all prisoners about London who were confined for debt imder the amount of forty shillings ; and, lastly, he enjoiaed his heir, by wUl, to make restitution of whatever sums of money his ministers or agents had unjustly wrung from his subjects.* The last hours of his existence were distinguished by the profoundest piety. The tears which he shed evinced how deep was his repentance. Sometimes, we are told, he would continue weeping and sobbing for three-quarters of an hour. When the sacrament was brought to him, he advanced to meet it on his knees ; and when the Cross, bearing the image of the Saviour, * " And we will also, if any person, of wliat degree soever he be, show by way of complaint to our executors any wrong to have been done to him by us, our commandment, occasion, or mean, or that we held any goods or lands which of right do appertain unto him, that every such complaint be speedily, tenderly, and effectually heard, &c. And in case, by such examination, it can be found that the complaint be made of a grounded cause in conscience, other than matter done by the course and order of our laws, or that our said executors, by their wisdoms and discretions, shall think that in conscience our soul ought to stand charged with the said matter and complaint, we wiH then that, as the case shall require, he and they be restored and recompensed by our said execiitors, &c." — Testamenta Vetusta, vol. i. pp. 27-8. 300 THE TRINCESS ELIZABETH OF TOBK. one in wliose skill iuid predictions the king placed the }i;i-i'ii,l,L'st conlidfiice, wus one Master Dominick, "by whose counsel this great ])rovision -was made for christening the said prince." Eager to be the first to announce the joyful intelligence t(j his royal master, the officious physician no sooner ascertained that the queen was in labour than he thrast himself amongst the crowd of peers and privy-councillors, which on such occasions anciently filled the ante-chambers of majesty. Possibly he had arranged a private commu- nication with one of the royal nurses in attendance ; for no sooner did the cry of a new-born infant reach his ears, than he " knocked, or called, secretly at the chamber-door," inquiring the sex of the child. Un- luckily he was overheard by one of the ladies in waiting, whose reply must have been anything but gratifying to him. " Whatsoever," she said, " the qiiet'u's grace hath here within, sure it is that a fool stantleth there without." Avoiding the presence of liis royal master, the discomfited prophet hm-ried away, we arc told, in the greatest confusion.* Ehzabetli's infancy seems to have been principally passed at Sheen, in Surrey, in that beautiful palace the name of which her consort subsequently changed to Richmond. The days which she spent at Sheen were probably the happiest of her existence. Even as an infant, she was doomed to witness and to share the sorrows and misfortunes of the haughty race from which she sprang. Slie must still have been a child in the arms of lier mu"se, when she beheld the reinterment of the headless remains of her grandsire, llicliard Duke of York, in the chm-chyard of Fotheringny.f Four years afterwards, when the rcbiillion raised by Warwii'k and Clarence compeUod her mighty father lo lly from his kingdom, we find * I'^Mbynn, p. C<:<:>. ■)■ Siuidlortl, Gen. Hist. p. 302. THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OE YORK AJIERWABDS QUEEN OF HESEr Til 308 THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF YORK. his niiml, and U> tlic flaltering purtiality with which hf Inid ilistiiiLi;LiJslicd her. " oil ! i^ood father Stiinlcy, liKten now and hear, III re is no more hut you and I r King Edward lliut was my father dear, ( )n wliose estate God had mercy, In ^Vostminster as he did stand, On a certain day in a study, A book of reascui he had in his hand. And so sore his study he did apply, That liis tender tears fell on the ground. All men might see that stood him by : There were both earls and lords of land. But none of them durst speak but I ; I came before my father the king. And kneeled down upon my knee; I desired him lowly of his blessing, ^Vnd full soon lie gave it to me : And in his arms he did me thring, jVnd set me in a window so high ; ^\nd spake to me full sore weeping, — These were the words he said to me : ' Dau;,'hter, as thou wilt have my blessing. Do as I shall council thee. And to my words give good list'ning. For one day they may pleasure thee. • » « • * Fi.ir shall never son of my body be gotten. That shall be crowned after me. But you shall be queen and Avcnr the crown, So doth express the prophecye I ' " One more scene, at court, ocelli's to us, in which FJizabetli fitrures as the fa\ cured chiki of her luaijiii- (iiunt I'alher. When the lord ol' Orauthuse. LTOvernor of Holland, visited England in 147l!. one, among the niagnifiei'nl enda'tahunenls given him by the court, was in the apartnicnls of Quoeii Mli/.abeth Woodville, in Winiisiir Castle. In a suni[)tiious clianiber, hung with clotJi of gold iiiijis, the beautiful queen is described by a conlenipdrary juj sitting with her hiLlies '• playing at THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF YORK, APTERWAEDS QUEEN OF HENRY Til, Elizabeth Plantagbnet, the daughter, the sister, and the ancestress of kings, was the first-born child of Bang Edward IV. by his consort EHzabeth Woodville. She was born at the palace of Westminster on the 11th of February 1465.* The ceremony of baptizing the infant princess was performed Avith unusual magnificence in the neighbour- ing abbey. Her sponsors were her two grandmothers, the Duchesses of York and Bedford, and the " King- maker," Eichard Neville, Earl of Warwick.f King Edward had been assured by his physicians that the queen would infallibly present him with a male heir, and accordingly he had caused preparations to be made on a scale of extraordinary splendour, for the cele- bration of so joyful an event. Great, then, was liis disappointment, and, probably, his anger, when the queen gave birth to a princess. Of his physicians, the * See Fabyan's Chronicle, p. 655 ; Hearne's Fragment, p. 295 ; Croyl. Chron. p. 457, wliere the date of Elizabeth's birth is fixed at a later period. "We prefer, however, the date ascribed by Graf- ton (Chron. vol. ii. p. 9), as given in the test ; borne out, as it is, by the inscription on her tomb in Westminster Abbey : " Obiit in Turre Londoniamm, die 11 Feb. anno Dom. 1502 [1503 N. S.] 37 annorum a3tate fiincta." Stow's Survey, book vi. p. 27. f Hearne's Fragment, p. 295. X 310 Tiiic rniNCESS Elizabeth op tore. brother Edward, in the dungeon-rooms of the Tower of London. " Tlie bridegroom ]iiivr. a royal crown Amid the Khining hair, That like a golden vril fell down In trc'sseH soft and fair. The bearing of the noble child His princely lineage told; Beneath that brow so smooth and mild The blood of warriors rolled. All coyly went the sweet babe-bride, Yet oft with simple grace She raised, soft-stepping by his side, Her dark eyes to his face. And playfellows who loved her well Crowns of white roses bore, And lived in after years to teU The infant bridal o'er." * ( )ii more tlian one occasion, when it was the object of King Edward to secure or conciliate an enemy, w(_' find him holding out promises or hopes of liis dauLj,! iter's hand in marriage, as a means for accom- plishing his ends. Thus, in 1469, when EUzabeth Avas only in her fifth year, the king endeavotn-ed to bring back the haughty Nevilles to their allegiance by pro- posing to unite his favourite child with George Xe- ville, eldest son of tlie Marquis of Montagu. He eveu went so fiir as to confer on youno; Neville the dukedom of Bedford. Not long afterwards, however, the negotia- tion was broken ofl" by Mont^igu openly joining his l)i()tlier, tlie "Kingmaker," in ivbelhon, and the Duke (if Bedford wiis sti'ipjied of his honours. J'lil, of all (lie m.'itrinionial projecls whicli Edward (•(inlcinplated for liis eliild, doublless the most extra- ordinnry were llie proposals whieli lie secretly made to • N'lTHcM liy MiM. Acii.Ti 'I'iiulal, ()noted in Mis.'* Mitford's " Ke- r(ille<;liiiiiH of ii LiU-niry Lil'e," pp. :.',")7, 25S. THE PEINCBSS ELIZABETH OE YORK. 307 her the companion of the queen, her mother, in the melancholy sanctuary at Westminster. King Edward, indeed, returned to London in triumph, and conveyed his wife and children to a more honourable place of refuge. But the danger was scarcely yet at an end. EebeUion was still rife in the county of Kent. Suddenly the piratical ships and rabble forces of the Bastard Falconbridge threatened London with pillage and ruin ; and accordingly the terrified queen flew for protection with her offspring to the Tower. There, from the windows of that lofty central tower which still over- looks the Thames, the young princess might have be- held that furious onslaught, when, having carried the defences at the Southwark end of London Bridge, the Bastard and his forces, firing the houses on each side of the bridge as they passed, threatened the palatial fortress itself. But the citizens were true to the house of York. Cannon was brought to bear upon the ad- vancing rebels, and, after burning several houses on the bridge, Falconbridge found himself compelled to retreat.* A few weeks afterwards his severed head looked down on the scene of his treason and his valour. Agreeably contrasted with the hfe of voluptuous indolence, which King Edward was in the habit of leading, was the affectionate interest which he took in the welfare of his offspring. Of all his children, Elizabeth seems to have been loved the most by him. A presentiment which he entertained that she was destined to succeed him on the throne was perhaps in a great degree the occasion of his preference. Li a contemporary poem, from which we have already quoted f , we find the princess thus touchingly advert- ing to the superstition which had taken possession of * Croyland Chron. pp. 466-7 ; Fleetwood Chron. p. 36. I " The most pleasant Song of Lady Bessy." X 2 812 TllK I'UINCESS ELIZABETH OP YORK. were iictuiilly ap])oiiite(l to arrange the ceremonials wliicli wH'ix' to be ol)scrve(l on lier journey to France. Tluis far advanced was Edward's favourite project, when lie received iuloiiiiation from his ambassador, Lord Howard, that not only was the French king play- iiii^- him falsi!, but that LouLs had entered into a secret tre;ily with Maximilian Duke of Burgundy to unite the Daujjhin Avith his daughter ]\Iargarel. So incensed was Edward at the affront put upon the blood-royal of England, that he prepared to avenge the indignity by a second invasion of France. The barons of England shared the exasperation of their sovereign. But, in the midst of his preparations for Avar, Edward Avas seized liy the illness Avhich hurried him to the tomb. Ah'eady a life of voluptuous enjoyments had undermined his once poAverful constitution ; rage and mortification are said to have accelerated his end.* No gi'cater misfortune could have befallen the youth- fid FJizabeth, and her almost unprotected brothers and sisters, than the death of their powerful and di-eaded fatlicr. Scarcely could the first tears Avhich slie shed for her beloved parent have been dried ; scarcely could she have Avritten to congratulate her gentle brother on jii-^ accession ; Avhen suddenly her imcle, Eichard of Gloucester, presented himself, like her evil genius, on the scene, to darken and destroy the brilliant jirospects of her girlhood. The story of Gloucester's usurpation lia< ahendy been related in these pages. "With all the stirring events connected Avith that memorable story, the fortunes and happiness of Ehzabeth were intimately nssociateil. ^\'hl■n, in dreail of Glo\icester's ambition and A iolence, the widowed queen of Edward IV. Avns compelled to seek refuge in the sanctuary at Westnvin- slcr, I'/lizabelh was her niolheFs companion in her lini-ricil ilight from the palace, and the sliarer of her ' ll;iliiiif.'l(iii ill KoMiirl, vol. i. jip. 177, 178; FaHlcra, vol. xii. pp. L'(i, ',10. THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF YOKK. 309 the marteaux; some of her ladies and gentlewomen playing at closheys of ivory *, and dancing, and some at divers other games ; the which sight was fuU plea- sant to them." f But the most pleasing sight must have been that of King Edward gratifying his almost infant daughter by leading her forth to dance with him in the midst of the glittering assemblage. On another occasion during the festivities, "when they had supped, my Lady Ehzabeth, the king's eldest daughter, danced with the Duke of Buckingham, and divers other ladies also."$ Five years afterwards, we find the youthful Eliza- beth present at the marriage of her brother, Eichard Duke of York, with Anne Mowbray, heiress of John Duke of Norfolk — the espousals of a bridegroom in his sixth year to a bride of only three years old. The ceremony took place on the 15th of January 1478, in St. Stephen's Chapel at Westminster, which was richly decorated for the occasion. In the procession walked her unfortunate brother, afterwards King Ed- ward v., and her sisters the Ladies Mary and Cecily. The queen led the youthful bridegroom into the chapel. The Earl of Lincoln supported the infant bride on the right, and Earl Rivers on the left. King Edward IV. gave her away at the altar. After the ceremony, a banquet took place in St. Edward's Chamber, at which the courtiers drained the wine-cup to the happiness of the infant couple — a happiness which it was destined they should never experience. § The bride died in childhood ; the bridegroom shared the fate of his * Marteaux was played with small balls of different colours, not unlike marbles. Closlieys were a kind of ninepins. f " Narrative of Louis of Bruges, Lord Grauthuse," Arohieologia, vol. xxvi. p. 277. 1836. X Ibid. p. 279. § From a MS. in tbe College of Anns. Sandford's Gen. Hist, book V. pp. 415, 416. . X 3 :iU THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OP YORK. Once, and once only, ])ciha])s, a gleam of comfort cheered tlie c'a])tivity ol' tlic loyal ladies. The formidable re- bellion ibmeuLed by their kinsman, the Duke of Buck- iugliani, not only threatened t(^ subvert the power of the usurper, but, had it been successful, would have elevated the young princess to a throne which, by the death of her brothers, had become her birthright. Un- fortunately, however, the total failure of the insurrec- tion, and the death of Buckingham on the scaffold at iSalisbur}^, extinguished hopes which had scarcely been raised before it was their i'ate to be anniliilated. It was about the month of March 1484, that Eliza- beth " late calling herself Queen of England " was in- duced to qvdt her gloomy solitude in the sanctuaiy at Westminster, and to intrust herself and her daughters to tlie tender mercies of Richard of Gloucester. To tlie unhapi)y queen were allotted apartments in the pahice ol' AW'slrainster, together with an annual income sullicient to support her in her newly recognized posi- tion, as a genllt'W( )man of birth. Her daughters met with grt'ater consideration, being "carried into the palace," we are told, "with solemn receiving," and there wel- comed wth "famihar and loving entertainment."* The Princess Elizai^eth, more especially, seems to have won the favour and regard of the usurper and his gende consort. We find her not only joining in die " dan- cing and gaiety " which now began to enliven the court at Westminster, but also appearing in the ball-room and at tlie banquet in robes of " similar oolom- and sliajie " to those wliich were worn by the queeu.f These halcyon days were destined to be of short dura- tion. The lourt was apiiarenfly still celebrating the Clii'istinas of 14S4, when Ciueen Anno was seized with iihu'ss. The skill and olVorts of her physicians proved • (HaOim, vnl. ii. ]i, 1 l.'i. f I'loyliiiul ("hrim. C'uiil. j). 108. THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF TOEE. 311 Margaret of Anjou to unite her with the heir of Lan- caster.* His object, doubtless, was to break off the approaching marriage of young Edward with War- wick's youngest daughter. But, whatever may have been his motives, Margaret haughtily rejected the pro- posals of her arch-enemy. At a later period Edward is said to have offered his daughter's hand in marriage to her future consort, Henry VH., then an impoverished exile in Brittany. f If any such overtures were ever really made, Edward, it is to be feared, had no worthier motive in view than to lull him into a state of un- suspicion and insecurity, and by these means inveigle the youthful earl into his power. But at length he who had so often sought to de- ceive others was himself destined to be overreached and disappointed. When the formidable army which Edward carried over to France in 1475 compelled Louis XL to come to terms vsdth his brother monarch, one of the conditions which Edward exacted was a contract of marriage between the Dauphin Charles and the Princess Eoyal of England. Not only had he enthusiastically at heart this briUiant alhance for his child, but it was probably the only negotiation of the kind in which he behaved with undeviating sincerity and good faith. Moreover, not a suspicion seems to have entered his mind that the intentions of the French king were less honourable than his own. Splendid dresses, of the fashion worn at the court of France, were provided for her. She was taught to write, as well as to speak, the language of that country. At her father's court she was addressed by the title of Madame la Dauphine. Her dowry was agreed upon, and so certain and so near at hand appeared to be the ratification of the marriage treaty, that ambassadors * " Manner and Guiding of the Earl of Warwick," Harl. MS. quoted in Ellis's Orig. Letters, vol. i. p. 134. I Hall's Chronicle, p. 323 ; Bernard Andreas, pp. 37, 38. x4 :1I6 TIII'J PRINCESS ELIZABETH OP YORK lU'CDinplislic'd the ruin of lier family, and whom she bdic'vi^d til have murdered lier brotlicrs. "When," says Buck, " tlie midst and last of Fi'ljruary was past, the Lady Elizabeth, being uuji'e impatient and jealous of the success than every one knew or conceived, writes a letter to the Duke of Norfolk, intimating first, that he was the man in whom she most affied in respect of that love her father had ever bore him. Then she congratulates his many courtesies, in conti- nuance of which she desires him to be a mediator for her to the king, in behalf of the marriage propounded bet\veen them, who, as she wrote, was her only joy and maker in this world, and that she was his in heart and thought; withal insinuating that the better part of February was past, and that she feared the queen woidd ne\'er die. All these be her own words, %vritten with her own hand; and this is the sum of her letter, whicli remains in the autograph, or original draft, imder her own hand, in the magnificent cabinet of Thomas Earl of Arundel and Surrey." * The amount of credit to be attached to this remai'k- able statLinent must of course depend upon circum- stances. On the one hand, Buck is acknowledged to have been a highly prejudiced, and not always trust- worth}', chronicler. Moreover, strict search has been made among the archives of the Howard fouiily for the letter stated to have been AVTitten by the priucess to the Duke of Norfolk, but without success. On the other hand, admitting Buck to be a faithless chro- nicler, and the (lisap]X'arance of the letter to be a veiy suspicious circumstance, there is still the diffi- culty of believing that any one could so grossly and im])U(leutly outstep his duty as a writer of history, as to iiitcrlanl it- with positive ilctiou. What conclusion, 1,lien, are we to draw from such di>icctivc evidence? I'lilbci- lUick, we think, may luive mistaken the haud- * Umli'M l.iii' i.r Kiclmnl III. in Kciiiut, vol. i. p. 5G8. THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF YOEK. 313 desolation. Within those dull monastic walls, under the shadow of the great abbey of Westminster, she passed the ten most melancholy months of her short but eventful existence. There she hstened to the tra- gical story of the execution of her accomphshed uncle Earl Elvers, and of her half-brother Sir Eichard Grey. There she parted with bitter tears from her almost infant brother the Duke of York, when their distracted mother was induced to confide him to the tender mer- cies of his ambitious uncle. There she bore her part in a still more agonizing scene, when the dreadful tidings reached the sanctuary that her innocent brothers had been foully murdered in the dungeons of the Tower. Then it was that the widowed queen " was so suddenly amazed that she swooned and fell to the ground, and there lay in great agony, yet hke to a dead corpse. And after she was revived and came to her memory again, she wept and sobbed, and with pitiful speeches filled the whole mansion. Her breast she beat, her fair hair she tore and pulled in pieces, and, calling by name her sweet babes, accounted herself mad when she dehvered her younger son out of sanctuary." Within those walls the young princess eagerly gave ear to the secret project of uniting her to the young Earl of Eichmond, and here she solemnly pledged her troth to the exile, with whom she was destined hereafter to share a throne. There the tidings were communicated to her that she and her sisters had been bastardized in full parliament, and that the condition of mere private gentlewomen was hereafter to be their lot. From the windows of her prison-house she must have looked down on the watchful sentinels who, day and night, surrounded the venerable sanctuary, to prevent her or her sisters being secretly carried away to some more hospitable land. From these windows, she might have beheld the gorgeous procession which followed her ruthless uncle to his coronation in the adjoining abbey. 318 THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF YORK. iUH'oinplislu'd Margaret Countess of Eichmond, who would naturally embrace with eag(^rness so favourable an opportunity of ])erl'ecliiifi: her future daughter-in- law in the i)art wliich she was destined to play as a queen, a wife, and a mother. Elizabeth's next place of residence appears to have been the castle of Sljeiiff- Hutton in Yorkshire*, in which princely fortress her young cousin, the Earl of Warwick, son of the ill-fated Clarence, was the sharer of her captivity. Doubtless Ivichard's object in removing his niece to this remote part of the country, — a district in which his authority was paramount, — was to prevent, in case of invasion, the ad\'autage which his enemies would derive by ob- taining possession of her person. At SherifT-Hutton, tlien, \ve may presume her to have been residing till the eve of the great battle which so completely revolu- tionized her ibrtunes. Some reason, indeed, there is for the supposition that, at the last moment, the usurper sent for Ehzabeth to his camp, and that she accompa- nied Lord Stanley to Leicester. Humphrey Brereton, for instance, intimates that not only was Elizabeth in the neighbourhood of Bosworth at the time when the two armies were engaged, but that she actually beheld llie mutilated body of King Richard borne in discredit- able triumph to its last resting-place at Leicester. " Thoy earned liim naked unto Leicester, And boiicklcd his h.Tir under his chin; Bessie met him with a merrie eheer. Tliesc were ihe words .slie slid to him: ' How likesl tlie slaj'ing of my brothers dear/ (Slie s]iake these words to him alone;) Now are Ave wrolcen upon thee liere — Weleonie, genlle unck^, home!' " Other accounts, however, worthy of crctlit, roprosoiit lier .'IS being kept in lionoiu'nhle durance at the castle of Sherid'-llutlon, whillier Henry, after the battle, is * Ihill's t'linmiele, ji. I'J2. THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF YOEK. 315 unavailing, and on the 16th of March following she breathed her last at Westminster. The rumours which prevailed among his subjects, that King Eichard had not only become enamoured of his beautiful niece, but was resolved to make her the sharer of his throne, have already been referred to in these pages. We have also hazarded an opinion that those rumours were not altogether without some foun- dation. Supposing, then, that Eichard, " foohshly phantasizing and devilishly doting " * on his niece, really entertained the project of marrying her, what, we are curious to know, were the feelings with which Eliza- beth contemplated their projected nuptials ? The old chroniclers agree that they were feehngs of abhorrence. " But because aU men," writes Grafton, " and the maiden herself most of aU, detested and abhorred this unlaw- ftil, and in manner unnatural, copulation, he deter- mined to prolong and defer the matter tiU he were in more quietness, "f HaU, in like manner, assures us that the " demoiselle did not only disagree and repu- diate that matrimony, but abhorred and detested greatly his abominable desire. "J The evidence on the other side rests on the statement of the contemporary chroni- cler, Jean Mohnet, historiographer to the house of Bur- gundy, and on a doubtful document quoted by the prejudiced historian Buck. According to Mohnet, Eichard not only won the affections of Elizabeth, but she yielded to his sohcitations, and bore him a child. § Buck, too, asserts that not only was Elizabeth far from having been averse to the prospect of becoming the wife of her own uncle, but that she even ac- cepted with gratitude the offers of the man who had * HaU's Chronicle, p. 422. f Grafton's Chronicle, vol. ii. p. 144. i Hall's Chronicle, p. 422. § Chroniques de Jean Molinet, in Buchon's Chron. Nat. Franc, tome xHv. p. 403. ■1-20 Til 10 I'lUNCKSS KLIZABETIi OF YORK. vvitli (•onsidi'iiilik' magnificence, and the people with bond res, dancing, and other (hversicjns. Scarcely eight months had passed from the day of her mariiage, when Elizabeth gave birth, in Winchester C'asdc, to an heir to the tliruiie. The arrangements for her lying-in had been intrusted to her mother-in-law the Conntess of Richmond, wIkjsc " ordinances," on this t)ccasion, certainly, to modern ideas, appear somewhat fantastic. " Iler highness' pleasure being understood as to what chamber she -will be deUvered in, the same must be hanged with rich cloth of arras ; sides, roof, windows and all, except one wmdow, where it must be hanged so as she may have Hght when it pleaseth her." Previously to betaking herself to this uncom- fortable apartment, the queen, it seems, bade a formal fiirewell to the lords and gentlemen of the royal house- h(3ld. " Two of tlie greatest estates shall lead her to her cliambei-, Avhere they shall take their leave of her. Then ixll the ladies and gentlewomen to ao in with lui', and none to come into the great chamber but women, and women to be made all manner of olFicers, as butlers, panterers, sewers, Otc. ; and the olliccrs shall bring tliem all needful things unto the great chamber door, and the women officei~s shall re- ceive it there of them." Then follow fuU dii'ectious for tlie ceremonies to be observed at the christening of the future prince or princess. A duchess is to c;u'iy the infant to the church ; " and, if it be a prmce, an earl shall bear tlie train of tlie mantle, which must be of rich cloth of gold, witli a long train furred throughout with ermine ; but if it be a princess, then a countess shall benr the train." And tlie " cradle of estate " shall be covered willi crimson iloth of gold : and at the head of the cradle shnll be engniveii the king's arms; nnd there shall be provided two counterpanes of scarlet, lurred with ei'niine and bordered with velvet, cloth of gold or tissue ; and also a bowl of silver and gilt, and THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF YORK. 317 writing of some other person for that of Elizabeth, or else, as has been ingeniously suggested, the person whom she expresses herself anxious to marry may have been Henry, and not Eichard.* But even supposing that Elizabeth really wrote the letter in question, there stni remains the presumption, rendered not improbable by the dissimulation which characterized the age, that her object, and that of the friends who advised her, was to deceive and mystify Eichard, for the purpose of averting misfortune from, or bettering the condition of, herself and her mother and sisters. It may be argued that this was a perilous game to play with such a man as Eichard, who, sooner or later, must discover the deception. It should be remembered, however, that release from her troubles promised to be near at hand. Many months must necessarily elapse before, in decent regard for the memory of the dead, the royal widower could lead his niece to the altar. Moreover, their near relationship entailed the tedious process of ob- taining a dispensing licence from Eome before their nuptials could be solemnized. In the mean time, the secret preparations which were being made for the pittpose of hurling the usurper from his throne, must have been weU known to Ehzabeth and her friends. Indeed, within Uttle more than five 'months after the death of Queen Anne, Henry reigned in his stead. According to the metrical narrative of Humphrey Brereton, a portion of those few eventful months was passed by the young princess at the London residence of her father's friend Lord Stanley : — " She sojourned in the citie of London That time with the Earl of Derbye." Here, then, she had doubtless the advantage of profit- ing by the precepts and example of the pious and * Privy Purse Expenses of Elizabeth of York ; Memoir prefixed to, by Sir Harris Nicolas, p. 52. :lJi TTir: riUNCESS ELIZABETH OP YORK. Owen. The Earl of Derby presented " a rich salt of gold, covered," whicli was carried by Sir Eeginald Bray ; and the Earl of Oxford a pan: of gilt basins with a sayer, carried by Sir WiUiam Stoner.* In gratitude for her safe deliverance from the perils of childbirth, the young queen founded a lady-chapel in Winchester Cathedral, in which were formerly to be seen her ar- morial bearings, surmounted by the words " In gloriam Dei."t Wlien at length Henry consented that his wife's coro- nation should take place, the ceremony was performed with great magnificence. On Friday, the 23rd of Xo- vember 1487, — accompanied by her mother-in-law the Countess of Eichmond, and a splendid retinue of peers and peeresses, — the yoimg queen was conducted by water from Greenwich to the Tower of London ; " there attending upon her the mayor, sheriffs, and aldermen of the city, and diverse and many worshipfid commoners, chosen out of every craft, in their hveries, in barges freshly furnished with banners and streamers of silk, richly beaten with the arms and badges of their crafts." Trumpets and clarions, and " other minstrelsies," he- ralded her progress. On landing at the Tower, she was received by the king and the principal nobihty and officers, who conducted her to the royal apai-tments. The " king's highness," we are told, " greeted hei- in a manner which was a very good sight, and right joyous and corafoitable to behold." The following day, "royally apparelled, and accompanied by my lady the kuig's mother, and many other groat ost:itos, both lords and ladief<," Elizabeth went forth to her coronation atAVost- minster. Preceding the rich, open Utter in which she sat, rode six barenesses, robed in crimson velvet, on • LclnTid's ColliH'l. vol. iv. pp. l'01_i'07; Aiitiq. Kepcrt. vol. i. pp. li.^r., 'Mn. t Sir II. Nicolas' Privy Purso E.\peuscs of Elizabeth of York, Minioii-, p. Ixix. THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF TOEK. 319 said to have despatched Sir Eobert WOloughby, with directions to escort her, with all convenient speed, to London.* " The which lady," writes Hall, " not long after, accompanied with a great number, as well of noble men as honourable matrons, was with good speed conveyed to London, and brought to her mother." f Henry is said to have been a cold husband. He certainly figures as a cold lover. Notwithstanding his solemn engagement to marry the lovehest and most amiable princess of her age, he not only discovered no impatience to consummate their nuptials, but, when rumours were more than whispered that he had re- jected her for the hand of the heiress of Bretagne, afterwards the consort of Charles VHI. of France, he made no attempt to assure the princess of his constancy. These reports, according to Lord Bacon, " did much affect the poor Lady Elizabeth." J In every other re- spect, however, her position, as well as that of her mother and sisters, was vastly improved. Her mother was restored by act of parliament to the title and dignity of a queen-dowager of England ; the act which had pronounced the young princess and her sisters to be illegitimate was repealed ; she found herself reinstated in a position befitting her illustrious birth, and, lastly, had the satisfaction of seeing the national partiahty for the house of York affectionately centred m her person. At length, as we have already recorded, the wishes of his subjects, and the interference of parliament, in- duced Henry to fix the day for his marriage with Elizabeth, and accordingly, on the 18th of January 1486, they were united at Westminster. The ceremony was performed by Cardinal Bourchier, Archbishop of Canterbury ; the court celebrating the auspicious event * Lord Bacon in Kennet, vol. i. p. 579. t HaU's Chronicle, p. 422. J Bacon in Kennet, vol. i. p. 580. 324 THE PRLVCKSS ELIZABETH OF YORK. Duke of Suffolk bore the sceptre, and the Duke of Bedford tlie ci-own. Courtenay, Bishop of Winchester, (supported the queen ou one side, and Alcock, Bi- sliop of Ely, on the otlicr. Iler f^ister, the Princess CV'cily, held up her train. In tliis array she entered the gicat westeiii dooi- of the aljljey ; and as her con- sort took no part in the ceremony, she became the sole object of attiiutlon to the brilhant concourse of persons who had assembled to do her honour. The king, with his mother " and a goodly sight of ladies," stood on a stage covered with arras, erected between the altar and the pulpit, from wlaich they could conveniently behold the ceremony.* At the subsequent banquet in Westminster Hall, the king and his mother were again present as private spec- tators ; a latticed stage having been erected for them in front of one of the windows, on the left side of the hall. The queen was waited upon by Lord Fitzwalter, who, " in his siu-coat with tabard-sleeves, his hood about his neck, and his towel over all," served her with the several dishes, each of which was brought to him by a knight. " The Lady Katherine Grey and Mistress Ditton went under the table, and sat on each side the queen's feet;" the Countesses of Oxford and Elvers knelt on cacli side, and " at certain times held a kerchief before her grace." And after the feast "the queen departed with God's blessing, and to the rejoicing of many a true Englishman's heart." f In the month of April, the year following, we find tlic young queen playing a oonspiouous part at one of those solemn festivals of the knight.s of the Garter, which were formerly liold at Windsor hi honoiu- of tlie patroii-saiut of tlie onler, St. Goorgo. The procession from the groat quadrangle of the castle to St. George's ('ha])i'l iiuist have presented a magnificent sight. The • Lcliind's Cnllivi. vol. iv. pp. 222— 22j. f lliiil. vol. iv. pp.22.') — 228. THE PEINCBSS ELIZABETH OF YORK. 821 " two swaddle-bands, the one blue velvet, and the other blue cloth of gold." "Furthermore it must be seen that the nurse's meat and drink be assayed during the time that she giveth suck to the child, and that a phy- sician do oversee her at every meal, which shall see that she giveth the child seasonable meat and drink." * At length, on the 20th of September 1486, the queen was delivered of a son, on whom her consort conferred the name of Arthur. Believing, or pretend- ing to believe, that he was descended from the re- nowned British prince of that name, Henry called to mind a prophecy, still popular among the Welsh and attributed by them both to Merlin and Taliessin, that the Britons would eventually recover their ancient do- minion in England. In order, therefore, to gratify his "Welsh partisans, Henry gave his first-born the name of Arthur ; and, moreover, inasmuch as tradition assigned the erection of Winchester Castle to his illustrious an- cestor, he selected it for the birthplace of his heir. On the Sunday following his birth, the infant prince was baptized in the cathedral at Winchester with great ceremony. The sponsors were the child's grandmother, the queen-dowager, and the Earls of Derby and Ox- ford, the two barons to whom Henry was principally indebted for his crown. The infant was borne to the cathedral in the arms of the queen's eldest sister, the Princess Cecily ; the Marquis of Dorset supporting her on one side, and the Earl of Lincoln on the other. The train of the infant, which was of crimson cloth of gold furred with ermine, was borne by the Marchioness of Dorset, Sir John Cheney " supporting the middle." " Queen Elizabeth [Woodville], who was in the cathe- dral abiding the coming of the prince," gave a rich cup of gold, covered, which was borne by Sir Davy * " Ordinances by Margaret Countess of Richmond and Derby, IS to what preparation is to be made against the Deliverance of a 3ueen," &c. Leland's Collect, vol. iv. pp. 179 — 184. Y 326 THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF TOEK. her the sliglitcst cause for jealousy; and lastly, that when she dlvil he appears to have deeply and smcerely bewailed her loss. There is still extant a valuable inissal, formerly the property of a lady much esteemed by Henry and his queen, in which, in the handwriting of the lung, is the following pleasing entry : — " Madame I pray you Eemembre me your lovyng maister, Henry R. ; and below, in the handwriting of the queen : — " Madam I pray you forget not me. Pray to God that I may have part of your prayers, Elysabeth y'' Queene." * The following account, by a contemporary, of the Idng and queen exchanging presents on New Year's day, is introduced rather as presenting a cm'ious picture of coiu't habits and customs, than as throwing any additional hglit on Henry's merits as a husband : — " On the day of the new year, Avhen the king came to his foot-sheet, his usher of his chamber-door said to him, ' Sire, here is a new-year's gift coming from the queen.' Then the king rephed, ' Let him come m.' Then the king's usher let the queen's usher come witliin the gatef, Henry M!I. sitting at the foot of die bed in his dressing-gown ; the officers of his bedchamber having turned the top sheet smoothly down to die foot of the bed when the royal personage rose. Tlie queen, in the hke manner, sat at lier foot-sheet, and received the Idug's new-year's gift withui the gate of hor bed- raihng. When this ftu-mal exehauge of presents had taken place between the Idug and his consort, thoy re- eeivt'd, seated in the same manner, die new-year's gilts of tlieir nobles.":]; • Soc I'rivy Purse Expenses, Atonioir, p. xcvi. j- 'I'lic t^"t<^■ of llie Piiils whii'li iineienlly surnnindod the beds of niyiilty. J MS. cif Iliiiry ^'l[.'^^ Non-oy lu-nild, quoted in Sti-ickland's QiiceUM of I'liin'imd, vol. ii. |i|). I.'ts, l;!;). THE PEINCESS ELIZABETH OP YORK. 323 grey palfreys, and, after them, her husband's uncle, Jasper Tudor, now Duke of Bedford. The canopy over her head was supported by four knights of the Bath. Many of the houses, in the streets through which she passed, were hung with arras and tapestry, and others with cloth of gold, velvet or silk. Between the Tower and St. Paul's were arrayed the different companies of the city of London in their rich and showy liveries ; and " in diverse parts of the city were ordained weU-singing children, some arrayed hke angels, and others like virgins, to sing sweet songs as her grace passed by." Thus, through the gay and crowded streets, attended by the noblest and fairest of the land, passed Ehzabeth of York to her coronation. Her dress consisted of a kirtle of white cloth of gold : she also wore a mantle of the same costly material, furred with ermine. Her long fair hair streamed down her back, and on her head she wore a coronet of gold, glittering with precious stones. As she passed along, the populace greeted with the most enthusiastic acclamations the young and beautiful mother, in whose infant were united the once rival claims of the houses of York and Lancaster, and whose birth had arrested the tide of misery, bloodshed, and desolation which had so long devastated the land.*i On the morning of the long looked-for day of her coronation, the 25th of November, Ehzabeth stood ia Westminster Hall in aU the bloom and beauty of youth. On this occasion she was arrayed in a kirtle and mantle of purple velvet, furred with bands of er- mine. Eound her head she wore a circlet of gold, "garnished with pearls and precious stones." A gorgeous procession, consisting of knights and peers, bishops in their pontificals, mitred abbots, and heralds and pursui- vants, attended her to the neighbouring abbey. The Earl of Arundel carried the staff with the dove ; the * Leland's Collect, vol. iv. pp. 218—222. • Tt 2 323 THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF YORK. doparted to licr inner chamber, which was hanged and ceiU'd with lich cloth of blue arras, with fleurs-de-lis of gold." Then, the queen having entreated the lords to remember her in their prayers, the lord-chamber- lain drew the curtain which separated her from the outer world, and "thenceforth no manner of officer came within the chamber, but only ladies and gentle- women, after the old custom." * The child was named Margaret, after the king's mother, who stood as sponsor to it at the baptismal fount, and who presented the royal infant with a silver casket gilt, filled with gold pieces.f On the 28th of June 1491, the queen gave birth, at the palace of Greenwich, to her second son, Henry, afterwards King Henry VJU. ; and on the 2nd of July, the following year, was born her second daughter, Elizabeth. The latter, who is stated to have been a very beautiful child, survived only to the 4th of Sep- tember 1495, and was buried in the chapel of Edward tlie Confessor in Westminster Abbey. In the month of April 1492, Elizabeth had the mis- fortune to lose her mother. Queen Elizabeth Wood\ille, that unhappy princess who had survived direr misfor- tunes, and hved through more eventful and tragical times, than has often fallen to the lot of womaiL From the circumstance of her will having been wit- nessed by the abbot of Bermondsey, it has been con- jectured, and not without reason, that the last days of the deceased queen, like those of Katherinc queen of Henry V., were passoil in seclusion in that noble mon- astery. Agieeably with injunctions contained in her will, her body was biu'ied at AVindsor by tlie side of the warrior-king who, in the ilays of her obsciu-ity, luid wooed her in the soUtary glades of Gnifton, had raised her to a throne, and made her the auoestross of • I.rlmul'H Collect, vol. iv. p. 219. t Iliitl. vol. iv. p. I'.M. THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF YOEK. 325 king and " his brethren of the Garter " rode on horse- back, arrayed in the splendid robes of the order. In a chariot drawn by six horses sat the queen and her mother-in-law the Countess of Eichmond, each of them also arrayed in the robes of the order of the Garter. The chariot was covered with cloth of gold; the furniture of the horses was of the same material. Then followed, seated on white palfreys, twenty-one ladies, arrayed in robes of crimson velvet, their saddles covered with cloth of gold, and the reins and housings of their horses ornamented with white roses, the cognizance of the house of York. Lastly, the queen's master of the horse, Sir Eobert Cotton, led her " horse of estate," having on it a saddle of cloth of gold, and trappings of the same material hanging down to its knees.* The often-repeated assertion that Henry neglected, if he did not actually ill-treat, his beautiful wife, seems to rest entirely on the authority of Lord Bacon. " It is true," he writes, " that all his hfetime, whilst the Lady Elizabeth hved Avith him, — for she died before him, — he showed himself no very indulgent husband towards her, though she was beautiful, gentle, and fruitful. But his aversion towards the house of York was so predominant in him that it found place not only in his wars and councUs, but in his chamber and bed." f Yet, without presuming to impugn the veracity of Lord Bacon as an historian, we may venture to question whether he wrote from sufficiently accurate informa- tion.J It has been argued, and with great justice, iu favour of Henry, that his letters to his queen exhibit ao want of conjugal affection; that, penurious as he was, he apparently never stinted her in her expenses ; that on no single occasion does he seem to have given * Leland's Collect, vol. iv. p. 239. t Bacon's Life of Henry VII. in Kennet, vol. i. p. 582. J Lingard, vol. iv. p. 270 ; Sir H. Nicolas' Privy Pui'se Expenses )f Elizabeth of York, Memoir, p. Ixxxii. T 3 330 THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OP YOKE. In tlio month of November 1501, the court of Eing Ileiuy WHS enlivened by the rejoicings consequent on tlie marriage of Arthur Prince of Wales with the Princess Katherine, daughter of Ferdinand King of AiTagon. The event was celebrated on the 14th of that month with great magnificence.* These rejoicings were scarcely over when the betrothment of the Prin- cess Margaret to King James IV. of Scotland occasioned no less splendid festivities. The ceremony was, in the first instance, privately performed, in the month of January 1502, in the chapel royal of Henry's favourite palace of Eichmond, but was subsequently solemnized in a more public manner in St. Paul's Cathedral ; the king, the queen, and all the royal family, with the exception of the Prince of Wales, being present. Unhappily, the satisfaction which Henry and his queen must have enjoyed at having accomphshed these bril- liant alhances for their children, was destined to be of short duration. Less than five months had elapsed since his marriage with Katherine of Arragon, when Arthiu- Prince of Wales expired at Ludlow Castle, in the sixteenth year of his age.f The king and queen, who were holding their court at Greenwich at the time, secra to have been completely prostrated by the gi-eat- ness and suddenness of their affliction. The dismal in- telligence was communicated to Henry by his father- confessor ; his instructions being tii break " tliis most sorrowful and heavy tidings " to his royal master as discreetly and gently as possible. Accordingly, as a contemporary writer informs us, "he, in the morning of the Tuesday following, soniowliat before the time ai'ciistoiiKMl, knocked at the king's chamber-door, and Avhen the king understood it was his confessor, he com- manded to let him in. The confessor then commanded * AMl,ic|ii,'iriim Ucpcrldry, vol. ii. p. 2S(!, ito. ■f 'Jnd A|iiil i:)02. Ho wnslmrioil in WoroosiiT Cathedral. Sand- foiil'a (!oii. IIIhI. liook vi. p. 17'). THE PEINCESS ELIZABETH OF TOEK. 327 On the 29th. of November 1489, Ehzabeth was brought to bed at "Westminster of her second child and eldest daughter, Margaret, afterwards Queen of Scot- land, from whom has descended every sovereign who, from the death of Queen Ehzabeth to the accession of Queen Victoria, has held the sceptre of these realms. Previously, on the 1st of the month, we find the queen conducted in great state to the splendid but sohtary apartment in which etiquette required that she should seclude herself till she had again become a mother. The furniture of that apartment, — the bed of many-coloured velvet, gorgeous with its stripes of gold and its garniture of red roses, — the rich arras, from which the human figure was carefully excluded lest it might affect the imagination of the royal invalid, — the altar covered with holy rehcs, and the side-board, or, as it was anciently styled, cup-board*, replenished with gold plate, — have been minutely described by a contem- porary. " On AlUiallow's eve the queen took to her chamber at Westminster, greatly accompanied ; that is to say, my lady the king's mother, the Duchess of Nor- folk, and many other ; having before her the great part of the nobles of this realm present at the parha- ment. She was led by the Earl of Oxford and the Earl of Derby. The reverend father in God, the Bishop of Exeter, said mass in his pontificals, and after, Agnus Dei. The Earls of Sahsbury and Kent held the towels when the queen received the Host, and the torches were held by knights. And, after mass, accompanied as before, when she was come unto her great chamber, she stood under her cloth of estate. Then there was ordained a voide of spices and sweet wine. That done, my lord the queen's chamberlain, in very good words, desired, in the queen's name, the people there present to pray God to send _her the good hour. And so she * Ellis's Early English Poets, vol. i. p. 268. T 4 •Ml HUE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF YORK. Tower, of a daughter, Katherine ; and on the 11th of that month she ex])it(jd. It was on the same day on ■which sliu completed her thirty-eighth year. Thus prematurely died this beautiful and amiable princess, — a princesH whose virtues and charities deservedly induced her husband's subjects to hand down her name to pos- terity by the affectionate title of "the good Queen Elizabeth." In the words of King Henry's poet-laureate and biograp her, Bernard Andr4, " she manifested from her infancy an admirable fear and devotion to- Avards God ; towards her parents, a singular reverence ; towards her brothers and sisters, an unbounded attach- ment ; and towards the poor and the ministers of re- hgion, a wonderful respect and affection."* King Henry is said to have sincerely lamented her loss ; '• departing to a solitary place to pass his sorrows, and would no man should resort to him but such his grace had appointed." f Possibly the penirrious monarch could not have afforded more incontestable proof of his respect for the memory of his departed queen than by the extraordinary pomp and cost with which he caused her to be interred in Westminster Abbey. $ Elizabeth's illustrious contemporary, Sii- Thomas More, composed an elegy on her death, an extract from which shall conclude our memoir of this channing princess. Sir Thomas introduces her as thus pathetically apostro- phizing, from the tomb, those who in her lifetime had been nearest and dearest to her : — " Adieu ! mine own dear sjwiiso, my wortliy lord ! Till' fiiitliful love that diil us botli ciunbiiie In marriage and pe.acealilf conoord, • Wrrn. Anil. Vil.i IIi'M. VII. p. ;!7. I Aiilii|H.'iii.in lu'pcrlnry, vol. iv. p. ("'.'>.''). J Sii' .Viiliquariiin Iu'i)i'rtiiry, ]). d.') I ; S.indford'.s Gen. Ilist. liiink vi. pp. IG'J — 171 ; I'rivy I'uise IC.xpi ii.'ie.-i ot' Eliziibeth ot'York, p. .M'vii. THE PEINCESS ELIZABETH OF YOEK. 329 kings. Her funeral was performed " without pompous interring or costly expenses." The only lady who attended the corpse on its passage by water to Windsor was " Mistress Grace," a natural daughter of King Ed- ward. At the ceremony of interment, however, there were present three of the daughters of the late queen, the Ladies Anne, Katherine, and Bridget, besides other ladies of high rank. The next interesting event in the hfe of Ehzabeth of York was the birth of another daughter, Mary, after- wards Queen of France, which took place about the month of May 1498. On the 21st of February, the following year, she was dehvered at Greenwich of her third and youngest son, Edmund. Elizabeth was now the mother of five interesting children, presenting a family group which the pen of Erasmus, and the pic- ture by Mabuse at Hampton Court, have famiharized to our imaginations. Erasmus informs us, that Sir Thomas More once paid hun a visit when he was guest of Lord Mountjoy*, and led him to a neighbouring country- palace, probably Eltham, where, with the exception of Prince Arthiu-, the royal infants were residing. The princely children were assembled in the great hall, surrounded by the children of Lord Mountjoy's family, In the middle of the circle stood Prince Henry, then only nine years old, bearing in his open and courteous countenance a look of dignified royalty. On his right hand stood the Princess Margaret, afterwards Queen of Scotland, a child eleven years of age. On the other side, engaged in her sports, was the Princess Mary, afterwards. Queen of France, a little one only four years old ; while Edmund f, an infant, was held in the arms of his nurse. J * William Blount, fourth Baron Mountjoy, Master of the Mint in the reign of Henry VII. He died in 1535. "I" Prince Edmund died at Bishop's Stortford, in Hertfordshire, about the month of April 1500. I Butler's Life of Erasmuf, p. 68. THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OP YOEK. 331 all those present to avoid, and, after due salutation, began to say, ' Si bona de manu Dei suscipimus, mala autem quare non sustineamus f ' and so showed his grace that his dearest son was departed to God. When his grace understood that sorrowful heavy tidings, he sent for the queen, saying that he and his queen would take the painful sorrows together." And the queen came to the " king her lord," and " with full great and constant comfortable words besought his grace that he would, first after God, remember the weal of his own noble person, the comfort of his realm, and of her. She then said that my lady, his mother, had never no more children but him only, and that God by His grace had ever preserved him, and brought him where that he was." God, she said, had left him j^et a fair prince and two fair princesses. God was where he had ever been ; and they were both young enough to render it a reasonable hope that He would bless them with other sons. " Then the king thanked her of her good com- fort." Those natural emotions of grief, which EHzabeth found means to suppress so long as she remained with her husband, found vent so soon as she returned to the sohtude of her own apartment. " After," we are told, " that she was departed and come to her own chamber, natural and motherly remembrance of that great loss smote her so sorrowful to the heart, that those who were about her were fain to send for the king to com- fort her. Then his grace, of true, gentle, and faithful love, in good haste came and relieved her, and showed her how wise counsel she had given him before ; and he, for his part, would thank God for his son, and would she should do iu hke wise."* Elizabeth survived the loss of her first-born scarcely more than ten months. On the 2nd of February 1503, the gentle queen was delivered, in the palace of the * Leland'a Collect, vol. v. pp. 373,. 374 ; Antiq. Repert. vol. ii. p. 322. THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH OF YORK. 333 Into your hands do I clean resign, To be bestowed on your children and mine : Erst were ye father ; now must ye supply The mother's part also, for here I lie. '' Where are our castles now ? where are our towers ? Goodly Eiohmond, soon art thou gone from me ; At Westminster, that costly work of yours. Mine own dear lord now shall I never see. Almighty God vouchsafe to grant that He You and your children well may ediiy ; My palace builded is, for lo ! now here I lie. " Farewell, my daughter, Lady Margaret ; God wot full oft it grieved hath my mind That ye should go where we might seldom meet ; Now am I gone, and have left you behind. Oh mortal folk ! but we be very blind : What we least fear, full oft it is most nigh ; From you depart I first, for lo ! now here I lie. " Farewell, Madame, my lord's worthy mother ; Comfort your son, and be of good cheer ; Take all at worth, for it will be no other. Farewell, my daughter Katherine *, late the phere Unto Prince Arthur, late my child so dear : It bodeth not for me to wail and cry ; Pray for my soul, for lo ! now here I lie. " Adieu, Lord Henry ! loving son, adieu ! Our Lord increase your- honour and estate. Adieu, my daughter Mary, bright of hue ! God make you virtuous, wise, and fortunate. Adieu, sweet heart, my little daughter Kate ! j That shalt, sweet babe, such is thy destiny, Thy mother never know, for lo ! now here I lie." * Katherine of Arragon. f The infant whose birth had proved fatal to the queen, and who survived its mother only a few weeks. ;i38 THOMAS LOED STANLEY. ^^'iiLTiilioiis h'lN (aiiuly liad been staunch adherents of tlu' huusc; of Liuicastei-. His grandfather, Sir John Stanley, laid lield tin; apy)ointments of steward of the liousi'hold to King Ilenry IV., and groom of the bed- el uunbcr ti> King Henry V. His father, the first lord, liad been lord-cliamberlain to King Ilenry VI. The first wife ol' Lord Stanley was the Lady Eleanor Ne\ille, daughter of Richard Earl of Salisbury, and .sister of the great Earl of Warwick Thus closely allied to the powerful family of the Nevilles, it might have been expected that, when Warwick took up arms against King Edward IV. in 1470, Lord Stanley would have joined his fortunes with those of the " Kiag- maker." But, whether from motives of prudence, or because he disagreed with the Nevilles in their policy, he resisted the arguments wliich his kinsmen made use of to induce him to unite with them, and remained apparently a passive spectator of the stirring events which immediately followed. True, however, to the interests of King Henry, when Warwick waited on the persecuted monarch in the Tower, and thence, " with great pomp, brought laim, apparelled iu a long gown of blue velvet, through the high streets of London " to St. Paul's, Lord Stanley was one of the barons who accompanied Warwick to the Tower, where they renewed their allegiance to him as their sovereign.* The death of Henry Yl., and of Ms only son, the Prmce of Wales, left Lord Stanley a free agent. Accordingly, we find him attaching himself to Edward IV., who not only received him into favoiu-, but conferred on him the liigli office of lord steward of his household. When, in June 147"\ King Etlward invaded France willi the flower of his nobihty, it was lo the lionls Stanley and Howard, as notoriously en- ying the greatest inlluenee witli their sovereign, that lo GvalTtinV (^lirmiiclo, vol. ii. p. 27. THOMAS LORD STANLEY 'AITEEWAEDS EAEL OF BEKBY 340 THOMAS LORD STANLEY. and, a,s it was, sent the blood flowing over his ears.* Iliistiii^s was hiirrii^d off to the block, and Stanley lo one ol' tlic jirisons of the Tower. To have taken the lill' of the latter, and seized his possessions and estates, one would have inia^rined to have been the ])(>liey of Gloucester. Not only, however, did Eichard spare his life, and restore to him his Uberty and lands, but he loaded hhn with honours greater than any he had hitherto enjoyed. The motives which induced so jealous and wary a prince, not only to set at large a formidable enemy, but to admit him at once into his confidence and flavour, will probably never be satis- factoiily explained. Certain only it seems to be, that Lord Stanley's release from the Tower, and his ac- quiescence in Eichard's usmpation, were concurrent e\'ents.f Lord Stanley's arrest had taken place only on tlie loth of June (1483), and yet so soon as the 27tli of tliat month, the day after that on which Eichard niDuiited the throne, we find him, with the exception of the Duke of Buckingham, the onlj' lay peer who ^vit- UL'ssed the siu-render of the great seal to the usm'per, in the "high chamber next the chapel" in Bayuaixi Castle. J Shortly afterwards Eichard re-established him • Sir T. ]\[oif, Hist, of Richard m. p. 73. " Dominu^j de StaiJey crat vulncralus, captus et incarceratus." — Ros/i Hist. Reg. Amj. p. 21.;. f It has been said that the usui-pcr was influenced l\v apprehen- sions k'St Stanley's youthful heir, Lord Sfraiitro, might tiike \ip arais to re\enge the death of his father. But if Kichai-d had any reason to dread the power ol' the Stanlojs, it wtndd rather seoni to have been his jiolicy to detain the father in prison as a secnritj for the good eonduc't of Ihe son, on Iho siune prineipte as when, two years aftrrwards, he seized upon Lord Sirange as ii lio.si;ige for the loyalty of Lord Slaulcy. ^\'llalever n\.'iy have been tlie nature of the nego- tiaticiii wliieli was earrled on between Kiehard and Loixi Suudey wliile (lie laller was a, prisoner, little doubt ajijiears to e.xist that I he price lie ])»iil for )us liluM'ation was a .soK'uui engagement to for- KiKc tlie emisc nf iIk' sons of I'Mward I\'., and to support the usurpa- tiiiii (if llieii- unele. I'olvdore ^'irgil, ji. 182, Cajud. 8oc. Kd. I" Itymrr, v<-l, .\ii. p. l.S',). THOMAS LORD STANLEY, AFTEEWAEDS EARL OF DERBY. Ko Englishman, not even excepting the celebrated George Monk, Duke of Albemarle, ever laid his sove- reign mider a greater obhgation than did Thomas Lord Stanley, afterwards first Earl of Derby. If General Monk placed a crown upon the head of Charles II., Lord Stanley performed no less a service for Henry VII. In many respects the position of Monk in 1660 was not very dissimilar to that of Lord Stanley in 1485. The conduct of both required to be charac- terized, in an eminent degree, by sagacity, prudence, and reserve. In neither case, apparently, would success have been possible without the aid of dissimulation. In both cases, therefore, we find these distinguished statesmen carrying their points by consummate master- strokes of dupHcity ; and in both cases, we trust, im- pressed by the conscientious conviction that, if they were compelled to plot and intrigue, it was for the ultimate advantage of their country. Of the private character of Lord Stanley very httle appears to be known. Unless, however, he had been gifted with many estimable quahties, it seems impos- sible that, during as many as five reigns, — including he most turbulent and the most eventftd period of our ustory, — he should have enjoyed, as he did, the favour md confidence of four successive sovereigns. Eor three z 342 THOMAS I,()R1) STANLEY. |)arliaraont, iiu (jvidciice exists of her husband having been cd^uizant of, and much less having abetted, her intiij^ucH. ParliiUiK'ut, indeed, not only entirely ex- onerated liim, but llichiird, by allowing Lord Stanley to (-injoy the vast possessions oi' his wife during his life- time, evinced how entirely he concurred with the verdict, liichard, nKJieover, as a further reward for his loyalty, conferred upon him the castle and lordship of Humbolton, " late belonging to the great rebel and traitor Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham." This rather remarkable gi'ant is dated Sarum, the 2nd of November 1-183, the day on which Buckingham perished on the scaffold.* The motives which induced Lord Stanley to for- sake his principles, and to make common cause with the usurfxT, can only be surmised. It should be re- membered, liowever, that, at the time when he violated liis alk'Liianee to Edward V., not only was the cause of the yoimg king a hopeless one, but his own death, and the ruin of his family, would in all probability have been the consequence of his rejecting the over- tures t)f Ixichard. Most probably, also, Richard had solemnly assured him, as he had assured Buckingham, that no liarra should befall the sons of the late king.f But when, a few months later, it had become an almost general conviction that the young princes had met with violent deaths, it was uatm-al that Lord Slanley should shave to the full the horror and indig- nation which it excited in the minds of his contem- porarit's. From that time, therefore, he may have formed the secret resohilion of seizing the fu-st favoiu:- able opportiMiity of hurhng the usurper from his ill- golteii throne. True it is that lie look no part in, and apjiarenlly gave no aid to, Buckingham's ill-fated insur- * ITiirl. I\1SS. No. l;i;t, ].. \'2i\ .nidlca in Halstcd's Kichai'd III. Anl. ii. |l. 'JT.l. t Hall, |i. .'IST ; llollnshr.I, Vol. iii. p. \W. THOMAS LORD STANLEY. 339 the heralds, despatched by Louis XI. to the English camp with proposals of peace, were directed in the first instance to address themselves.* As a soldier, Lord Stanley's abilities were probably of no mean order. Seven years after the invasion of France, when Edward sent an army into Scotland under Eichard Duke of Gloucester, it was to Lord Stanley that he intrusted the command of the right wing. It seems to havfe been shortly after his return to England, that he greatly iucreased his wealth and influence by taking for his second wife the illustrious Margaret Countess of Eichmond. The single fact of King Edward having appointed Lord Stanley one of the executors of his willf is sufficient to prove how entire was the confidence which he placed in his friendship and integrity. Moreover, when the great monarch lay on his death-bed, it was Lord Stanley, in conjunction with Lord Hastings, that he especially enjoined to watch over the interests and happiness of his orphan sons. At the magnificent obseqmes of King Edward, in St. George's Chapel at Windsor, Lord Stanley attended as one of the principal mourners. The fidehty and zeal, with which Stanley and Hastings were prepared to fulfil the last injunctions of their royal master, naturally drew down upon them the enmity of Eichard of Gloucester. Accordingly, on the famous occasion of the arrest of Hastings in the council-chamber in the Tower, the guards who rushed in to seize him are said to have had secret orders to knock the lord steward on the head during the confusion. Certain it is that Stanley received a blow from a halberd, which, but for the fortunate cir- cumstance of his contriving to drop under the council- table, would in all probabihty have cleft his skull; * M^moires de Commines, tome i. p. 350. t Nichols' Royal Wills, p. 347. z 2 y.l4 THOMAS LOKD STAKLEY. unpaliitable to Lord Stanley. In the first place, it yhackled his course; of action ; in the next, it kept him in c'onsLunt trepiiliitiori lor the safety of his son. The hi^h coiisLiible had apparently been absent only a few days at liis estalLs in Lancashire, when the intel- ligi'iice reached him that the Earl of Eichmond had aotiuiUy efll'cted his landing on the coast of Wales. At the same time he received a summons from the king to attend him immediately at Nottingham. But not onlv, for obvious reasons, was delay of the utmost importance to Lord Stanley, but to have placed himself in Eichard's power at such a crisis would, in all probability, have cost him his hberty, if not liis hfe. Accordingly, he re- turned an answer to the king that he was suffering from tlie sweating sickness, and that it was out of his powei' at present to undertake the journey. In the mean time, pretending the utmost zeal for the king's interest, he proceeded to assemble and ann his re- tainers for tlie approaching conflict. Seven days be- fore llie battle of Bosworth we find them in quarters at liclilield, which town they evacuated on the 15th (if August at the approach of the Earl of Eichmond. As theii- numbers amounted to scarcely less than 5000 men *, and as Sir WiUiam Stanley occupied the neigh- bouring town of Stafford with no fewer than 2000 of his rt'tainers, it must have been tolerably evident to all men, that on wliichever side the Stanleys might think proper to draw the sword, that side must prove victorious. Tlie day on which Lord Stanley placed himself at the head of his relainci-s has not been recorded. "We only know that on the lOth of August, three days be- I'ore tlie great battle was Ibuglit, lie was at Athei-stoue, a few uiik's only distant from ihe small market-town of liosworlli. So wary and ciroiunspect had his conduct • I'uljilinv N'irgil, p. 218, (.'amd. Siic. Ed. THOMAS LORD STANLEY. 341 in his former office of lord steward of the household, and, before the end of the year, conferred upon him the considerable appointment of high constable of Eng- land*, and honoured him with the order of the Garter. Favoured as Lord Stanley was by Eichard III., it may be doubted whether that sagacious monarch ever completely trusted him. We are assured, in- deed, that, of all his subjects, there were none who caused him such constant anxiety as Lord Stanley, his brother Sir WiUiam, and Sir Gilbert Talbot.f Although he knew not their " inward mind," yet, it is said, " he trusted never one of them all." J Of these persons. Lord Stanley was by far the most powerful, and, though perhaps the least suspected, was the most to be feared. His wealth and possessions were immense ; his mihtary experience was considerable ; the number of armed retainers which he was able to lead into the field amounted almost to an army ; and lastly, versed as King Eichard was in the arts of dis- simulation and intrigue, Lord Stanley was clearly his match. If Eichard really entertained any misgivuigs in re- gard to the fidehty of his new ally, it was probably previously to and during Buckingham's insurrections that they occasioned him the greatest disturbance. The defection of that powerful nobleman, whom he had so completely trusted, and on whom he had con- ferred so many favours, could scarcely have failed to make him suspicious of every other hving person. But though Lord Stanley's consort, the Countess of Eich- mond, was proved to have been so deeply imphcated in her kinsman's treason as to incur the attainder ot * 16th December 1483. f Sir Gilbert Talbot's importance was principally derived from his having the wardship of his nephew, the young Earl of Shrews- bury, whose retainers he subsequently arrayed against Eichard, i Polydore Virgil, p. 212, Camd. Soc. Ed. z 3 :!46 THOMAS LORD STANLEY. oflico of Ijord High Steward of England and carry- ing thu mass Ijcfore llie king*, and, on the 7th of May la(i;], holding, by the king's commission, a chapter of the order of tlie Gurter at Windsor.f Henry, indeed, on one occasion, paid him as high a comphment as lie could pay to a subject, by selecting him to be one of the godfathers of his first-bom child, Arthur Prince of Wales. At tlie baptism of the royal infant, which took i)lace in the cathedral at Winchester, the earl's gift, Ave are informed, was " a rich salt of gold," which was carried in procession by Sir Eeginald Bray. Attached as the earl had been to bis late master Edward IV., the elevation of Elizabeth of York to the throne of her father could scarcely have failed to afford him the highest gratification. Accordingly, when, after a tardy recognition of her rights, Hemy at length consented that her coronation should take place, we disco\er, as might naturally have been expected, her fatlier's friend figuiing consjiicuously in the various ceremonials. Li the magnificent progress which she made from the Tower to Westnunster, the earl rode witli the Duke of Bedford and the Earls of Oxford and Nottingham, immediately before the royal chaiiot. Again, at tlie coronation ilnist, "attu'ed in a rich gown furred with sables, a marvellous rich chain of gold many folds about his neck," and "the trappui- of his courser right curiously wrought "\vith the needle," he was one of the great estates who entered and 'Tode about ^^\■slminst^'r Hall on horseback." J The eai-1 was not only lord-constable of England, but on this occasion acted as one of the comniissionei's for execut- ing tlie office of high steward.^ In tlie year 1 r.t,'> Tiord Derby sidlered a severe * l':xriT|il:i \\\M. p. .'ISO. f L<'lMllirs Cnllcrl, vol. iv. \K I'OT. t iiiid. jip. 'i'-'d, i."j:>-(;, fj I'nIliliN' l'iTiii;;i\ l>_v Sir Iv Hrvili;rs, vol. iii. p. tU. THOMAS LORD STANLEY. 343 rectioft. Suspicions of tlie real designs of that am- bitious nobleman, or perhaps misgivings in regard to the adequacy of the duke's resources and means, very probably kept him inactive. But when the second invasion, projected by the Earl of Eichmond, was notoriously countenanced by the King of France ; when many of the usurper's most powerful friends were more than suspected of being traitors in their hearts, the pro- babihty seems to be that Stanley resolved, at the first safe opportunity, to throw off the mask. As to the secret share which he may have had in organizing the conspiracy, or the particular period at which he con- sented to become an accomphce, no information has reached us. Certain, however, it is, that during the first acts of the drama his conduct was shaped by the same prudence and reserve which enabled him to triumph in so remarkable a manner at its close. Eichard may, or may not, have received secret inti- mation of Stanley's designs. In the mind, however, of so jealous a monarch, the simple fact that Stanley was the father-in-law of the pretender to the throne, must have been sufficient to create alarm. Accordingly, when, on the eve of the Earl of Eichmond's invasion, Stanley pleaded a strong desire " to visit his family and recreate his spirits," it was not only with evident re- luctance that Eichard was induced to comply with his request, but he intimated, doubtless in as little offensive a manner as possible, his intention of retaining Lord Strange as a hostage for his father's loyalty.* This announcement must have been in the highest degree * Croyland Ckron. Cont. p. 501 ; Polydore Virgil, Camd. Soc. Ed. p. 212. In justice to Eichard, it must be admitted that he had other defensible gromids for detaining Lord Strange, and, indeed, would apparently have been justified had he sent him to the block. Young as he was, Strange was not only deeply implicated in the conspiracy to raise the Earl of Richmond to the throne, but had actually confessed his guilt, at the same time implicating his imcle. Sir William Stanley. Croyland Chron. Cont. p. 501. z 4 348 THOMAS LORD STANLEY. pailisuiiH of the Fleinisli adventurer, is it credible that Henry woidd lia\L' so entirely disregarded every tie of gratitude and fiieudship ? — is it credible that he iiiuld have willistood tlie entreaties of his father-ia- law and the tears of his mother? — or, precarious as -was his tenure of the crown, that lie would have risked the vengeance of so powerful a subject as the Earl of Derby, by signing the death-warrant of a be- loved brother ? Moreover, even admitting that Henry Avas capable of committing so atrocious an act as that of sacrilicing an innocent man for the sake of possessing his wealtli, sui'cly, in sucli a case, we sliould expect to find the oavl displaying, if not open resentment, at least decent disapprobation, at the execution of his brother. In vain, however, we search for the shghtest sign of sucli disapproval. True it is that, after his brother's execution, the earl and his venerable countess retired i'or a time to the seclusion of their seat at Lathom. That the object of the earl, however, in quitting the court, was to brood over wrongs and to meditate re\eiige, there seems not the slightest reason for con- jecturing. On the contrary, we find him employed in prepai'ing Lathom for the reception of Hemy and liis queen, who a few months afterwards beomie liis guests. On this occasion great and expensive provision "was made for the entertainment of the royal A-isitoi-s. Lathom was beautified, and Knowsley enlarged. To prevent impediment or danger to the king and queen in their progress, tlie marslies were travci-sed by a new causeway, and a bridge was throA\ni over the ^lei-sej'.* The following somewhat remarkable incident is stated to luive occurred during tlie \isit ol" Henry to Lathom. Followed by his fool, or jester. Lord Derby one day eondiK'tcd tlu' king to the root' of the mansion, to enable • Scmcoiuc'm llisl. (if llic House cil' Sijmlt'v, p. 13. Sir William Sliiiili'y WHS rM'culcil dii llii' I dill nf I'l'liruinv l-l'J,'i. 1 K'ury arrived al Kni'UHlcy (ui, oi- .mIk'IiI, llic L'llli uCJiiiii' I'oliowiiij;. ll'ld. THOMAS LORD STANLEY. 343 been ; so apprehensive was he lest his actions might compromise the hfe of his son, that, up to this late period, the Earl of Eichmond appears to have been kept in the profoundest ignorance, and consequently in the most painful suspense, in regard to the intentions of his father-in-law. It was not till the evening of the 19th that Stanley had so far overcome his habitual caution as to consent to that famous interview with Henry of Eichmond at Atherstone, which we have aheady recorded. There, advancing with his brother Sir WiUiam towards Eichmond, and " taking one an- other by the hand and yielding mutual salutation," they entered into council " in what sort to darraigne hattayl with King Eichard, if the matter should come to strokes." Doubtless the fulfihuent of Lord Stanley's part of the treaty was made contingent on the safety of Lord Strange. A more painful mental struggle, than that between his feehngs as a father and his anxiety to serve his friends, it would be difficult to imagine. So vast a service as that which Lord Stanley per- formed for King Henry VIL on the field of Bosworth, could scarcely fail to be gratefully acknowledged by the Tudor monarch. Nevertheless the rewards which he received — if indeed rewards were desired or expected by him — seem scarcely to have been commensurate with the great obligation under which Henry lay to his stepfather. He advanced him, indeed, on the 27th of October 1485, to the earldom of Derby, and, on the 5th of March following, granted him the high office of constable of England for life.* Such other honours, however, as were awarded to him seem to have been merely complimentary. For instance, at Henry's coronation, on the 30th of October 1485, we find him one of the commissioners for executing the * Collins' Peerage, by Sir E. Brydges, vol. iii. p. 60. 330 THOMAS LORD STANLEY. lollowiiijj;, the. event must have occurred in the interval l)(-'l.wcHui those day.s. One of his numerous bequests was a cup ol'gold to his stcjtson King Henry. By his last will, lie ordained tliat his remains should be interred in the north aisle of the church of the priory of Burs- cough, near Latliom, in Lancashire, -where lay buried the bodies of his father and mother, and others of his ancestors. He also left instructions for the erection of a tomb, to bear his effigy and those of his two wives, whom he ordered to be praj'ed for and had in perpe- tual remembrance.* An ancient poem, entitled "Thomas first Earl of Derby, a right true and most famous Chronicle, "f concludes with the following Hnes : — " If might or money could have saved this man, Or love of his neiglibours, he had not died then ; But seeing death is to us so very natural, Pray \ve charitably for each other's fall ; And especially for his soul let us pray, Of this honoui'.able Earl Thomas Stanloy ; Who in honour and love has ended his life, "Willi truth ever in wedlock to God and his wife; The love which he won with liberality, (iod keep so stLU unto all lois posterity." * Testamenta Vetusta, vol. ii. pp. 458 — 460. ■f Written in 15(12, by Thomas Sfaiilev, Bishop of Sodor and Man. Memoirs of the House of Stanloy, p. 178 : Manchester, 1783. Seacome's House of Stanley, pp. 191, -02. THOMAS LORD STANLEY. 347 family affiction by the tragical death, of his brother in arms, as well as his brother in blood, Sir William Stanley. Sir William was accused, whether justly or not, of being impHcated in Perkin Warbeck's rebellion, and fell by the axe of the executioner on Tower Hill. His greatest offence, it has been said, was some words which he had spoken in confidence to Sir Eobert Clifford, that " if he were sure the young man was 'King Edward's son, he would never bear arms against him."* Lord Bacon more than hints that the vast wealth and magnificent estates of Sir Wilham Stanley, — " for he was the richest subject for value in the kingdom," — induced King Henry to sacrifice him to his avarice. According to Bacon, " there were found in his castle of Holt forty thousand marks in ready money and plate, besides jewels, household-stuff, stocks upon his grounds, and other personal estate, exceeding great; and for his revenue in land and fee, it was three thou- sand pounds a year of old rent, a great matter in those times."f But that Henry, merely for so shght a mis- demeanour, or on so flimsy a pretext, could have sent so powerful a subject to the block, seems almost in- credible. With the exception of Lord Stanley, Henry lay under greater obhgations to Sir William than to any other living being ; they were closely connected by family ties ; and, lastly, such was the confidence which Henry placed in Sir Wilham's loyalty, that he had selected him to fill the responsible post of lord- chamberlain, thus intrusting him with the care of his person, and placing his hfe constantly in his power. Unless, then, the guilt of Sir Wilham Stanley had been estabUshed by the clearest possible evidence ; unless it had been found absolutely necessary to send him to the block in order to strike terror into the * Lord Bacon's Life of King Henry VII. in Kennet, vol. i. p. 611. t Ibid. vol. i. p. 610. THOMAS LORD STANLEY. 349 him to enjoy a view of the surrounding country. The height at which they stood was precipitous ; the spot unprotected by battlements. The jester had been affectionately attached to the late Sir WiUiam Stanley, and probably laid his death at the door of Henry. Accordingly, glancing towards the latter, " Tom" he muttered, in a hollow tone of voice, to his master, " remember Will ! " The words were probably meant to reach no other ears but those of Lord Stanley. Unfor- tunately, however, they were overheard by the king, who, with an emotion he was unable to conceal, de- scended, with rather undignified speed, to safer ground.* The Earl of Derby is described as having been a hberal master, as well as a sociable and hospitable neighbour. One of his pecuUarities is thus related by his grandson, Thomas Stanley, Bishop of Sodor and Man.f " I left behind me," writes the bishop, " a notable point, which I had not presently in my remembrance tUl an aged man, that sometime was servant unto this old first Earl Thomas, put it in my memory ; which is, that when this noble earl was disposed to ride for his pleasure a-hunting or other progress, or to visit his friends or neighbours, whose house soever he went unto he sent his officers before, who made provision aU at his cost, as though he had been at his own house. And at his departure the surpleesage was left to the use of the house where he had lodged. And this was his manner and order in all places, when and where he travelled, unless by chance he came unto some lord's house." J The precise time of the Earl of Derby's decease is not known. As his wiU, however, bears date the 28th July 1504, and the probate is dated the 9th of November * Stricldand, vol. i. p. 437. t The bishop succeeded his father as second Baron Monteagle, in 1523, and died in 1560. X Memoirs of the House of Stanley, p. 187 : Manchester, 1783. 304 HENRY LORD CLIFFORD. great-granddaughter of King Edward HI.* Henry, the " Shepherd Lord," was the seventh in descent from that monarch ; he himself married a cousin of King Henry VII. Lastly, his grandson, Henry second Earl of Cumberland, married the Lady Eleanor Brandon, daughter and coheir of Charles Duke of Suffolk, niece to King Henry VIH., and daughter of a queen of France. Not only were the Cliffords closely aDied in blood to the royal house of Plantagenet, but, at one time, their accession to the throne seemed far from being an unUkely event. When parhament authorized King Henry Viil. to settle the succession as he might think proper, he bequeathed the crown, in the first instance, to his cliildren, Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth, and, in the event of their severally dying without leaving issue, which proved to be the case, to his eldest niece, Frances Marchioness of Dorset, and after her to Eleanor Coimtess of Cumberland.f In the parish church of Skipton, in Yorkshire, round the stately tomb of George third Earl of Ciunberland, may be seen the following shields, or coats of ai'ms, the quartering^ on which show how briUiant were the al- liances contracted during many generations by the house of Chfford : — Clifford and EusseU witliin the garter, with an earl's coronet above ; Clifford between Brandon and Dacre ; Clifford and Percy, with a coi-onet above ; Veteripont and Buly ; Veteripont and Ferrei-s ; Yeteri- pont and Fitz Peirs ; Clifford and Veteripont ; Chfford and Clare ; Clifford and Veteripont, quarterly ; Clifford and Beauchamp ; Chfford and Eos ; Cliffoi-d and Percy within tlie garter ; Clifford and Daoro ; Chfford and Bromfletc (do Vesci) ; ClilVord and St. Jolm of Bletshoe; (ilifford and Berkeley; and Cliffonl and Neville. "I much doubt," says WHutaker, " whethea- such an as- • Sec (JiMicnldgioil TiiMi', ante, p. 6. t Tosljiiiu'iita VoluHtii, vol. i. ]ip. 10-1. HENRY LORD CLIFFORD "THE SHEPHEED LOED" :i/!i; IIENUY LORD CLIFFORD. tlie Cliffords. It was repaired and beautified by Roger de Clifford, who caused to be engraved in stone over the inner giitc, " This .made Iloijer ; " and here, more than three ceuturicjs afterwards, liis dcKcendant, Henry second Eurl of Cumberland, and his ]ii;.di-bom coun- tess, scviTidly breathed their last. Appleby Castle, too, rich with the armorial bearings of the Cliffords and Viponts, with its " Cajsar's Tower," its " Baron's Cham- ber," and " Knight's Chamber," was an appanage worthy of an ancient and powerful race. Beautifully situated on a high cliff, with the river Eden running beneath it, the castle still stands an interesting relic of the past. Here the great heiress Isabella de Vipont sat, after the death of her lord, as sheriff in her hall with. the judges ; and here, after the lapse of nearly four cen- turies, expired her high-spirited descendant, Anue Clif- ford, Countess of Dorset, Pembroke, and Montgomery. Lastly, let us record as an inheritance of the Cliffords, the hall and estates of Lonsborough, in Yorkshire, which came into their possession by the marriage of John seventh Lord CUfford with Margaret, daughter and sole heir of Henry de Bromflete, Baron de Vesci.* For many generations the cliiefs of the house of Clifford figure as distinguished warriors. The majority of them met with violent deaths. Eoger, a renowned * Clifford's Inn, Fleet Street, near Temple Bar, presents perhaps the only existing remains of the London residence of an English baron in the middle ages. The ancient mansion was the girt of Edward II. to Robert Clifford, wlicisc widow, Isjibel, daughter of Maurice Lord Berkeley, lot it to the sfudouts of tlie law, since which time apparently it has continued to be an inn of Chancery. Stow, bock iii. p. 2C>2 ; Pcaroe's Inns of Court, p. 2(!0. The .nrms of the house of Clidbnl, — Clirr!.-// Or and Aziirf ol' fisse Gules within a bordiiir of the lliird, chnrged with a Bt:iiiHt, — continue to be the urniH of the sociely, nnil ni.'iy still bo seen dcooniting the interesting old Imll. In llio righlh yviir of I'.dward W ., we find the old man- sicpii ilc.si;.rii;ili'il, — " Messimg. cum gardino adjaccn' vocat' Cliffords Iniic, in vicd vdcjil' Fieri Slri'dc London', nuper Johannis Domini Cljim.nl."— rf(/. A'../. J'„t. p. 31), m. .\ii. HENRY LORD CLIFFORD, "the shepheed lord," Were we called upon to illustrate by a single example the territorial power, the warlike qualities, and the fierce resentments which distinguished the barons of England during the middle ages, it would be difficult perhaps to select a more striking example than that of the Cliffords, Lords of Westmoreland, afterwards Earls of Cumberland. Possessed of princely castles and seigniories, and producing heroes from generation to generation, the Chfibrds were, in the north-west of England, what the Percies, Earls of Northumberland, were in the north-east. Even as late as the reign of Henry ViiL, we find Henry, the first Earl of Cumber- land, retaining no fewer than five hundred gentlemen in arms at his own cost.* The blood of the Cliffords was perhaps the most illustrious ia England. John seventh Lord CUfford, by the marriage of his father with Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas Lord Eos of Hamlake, was fifth in descent from Wilham the Lion, King of Scotland. The aUiance of the Chffords with the sovereigns of England was closer still. Descended from one common ancestor, RoUo first Duke of Normandy, their blood again inter- mingled in the fifteenth century, in consequence of the marriage of John, the seventh lord, with the great- * Collectanea ClifFordiana, p. 21. A A 358 llENBY LORD CLIFFORD. Thomas eighth Lord Clifford, described as "a chief commander in France," was f^randson, on his mother's side, to the celebrated Harry Hotspur. One of his most notable exploits was the capture of the town of Pontoise, near I'uris, which he accomplished in the year 1438 by a daring and ingenious stratagem. The EngUsh had lain for some time before the town, with httle prospect of reducing it, when a heavj' faU of snow suggested to Lord Clifford the means of effecting its capture. Arraying himself and his followers with white timics over their armour, he concealed them duruig the night close to the waUs pf the town, which at daybreak he surprised and carried by storm.* Im- portant as was this service, it was equalled two years afterwards, when Lord CHfford valiantly defended the town of Pontoise against the armies of France, headed by Chai'les VII. in person. Though nearly allied by blood to the house of York, Lord Clifford, on the breaking out of the civil wars, took ]iart with his unfortunate sovereign, Henry \1., and became one of the most formidable of the partisans of the house of Lancaster. He Avas slain at the battle of St. Albans, on the 22nd of May 1455, at the age of forty. According to Shakspeare, the renown of tlie " deadly-handed Clifford " induced the Earl of Wai^nck, the " Kingmaker," to seek a personal combat with him in the course of the battle ; but tate decided that he should receive his death-blow fc'om the hands of Eichard Duke of York. " WannH-. Cliflbrd of Cumborlaiul, 'tis "\iVarwick calls; And if thou dosl not hide tliee from iho bear, Now, wlicn (he angiy tniniiHi sounds alarm, And dc'id nion's cries do fill the emplv air, Clill'ord, ) s;iv, ronic forlli and liglit with mo ! Proud iiortliern lord, Clifibrd of t^unlu-rland ! Warwick is lioursc wilh calling ihoe to arms." kill!/ J '<>>'■>/ ''-'• Tm-t II. Act V. Sc. 2. • llarlcian MS. CI 77. HENET LORD CLIFFORD. 355 semblage of noble bearings can be found on the tomb of any other Englishman." * The territorial possessions of the Cliffords corre- sponded with their illustrious birth. One of their most ancient strongholds was CHfford Castle, in Hereford- shire, situated on a high cliff overhanging the river Wye. In the reign of Henry 11. it was the property of Walter de Clifford, father of the celebrated Fair Eosamond. But the most princely, and apparently favourite, residence of the Chffords during many gene- rations, was Skipton Castle, situated in the deanery of Craven, in the West Eiding of Yorkshire. This in- teresting pile, with its great hall, its buttery-hatches, and ancient dungeon, still stands in a fair state of pre- servation. It was conferred, with its numerous town- ships and important forest and manorial rights, upon Eobert first Lord Clifford, by King Edward II. The northern part of the castle stands on a perpendicular rock, within a short distance of the river Aire. In the glen beneath were the pleasure-grounds of the Chf- fords, which, with their fish-ponds, curious walks, fantastically shaped flower-beds, and commanding view of the castle, must have been formerly a picturesque and beautiful spot.f In the north of England the Chffords were possessed of other seigniories, scarcely less princely than that of Skipton, By the marriage of Eoger de Clifford, father of the first Lord Chfford, with Isabella, the great heir- ess of the De Veteriponts or De Viponts, they became lords of the barony of Westmoreland, including , the seigniories and castles of Brougham and Appleby. Brougham Castle, a " strong, beautiful, and extensive " structure, situated on the banks of the Eimot, or Yeoman, appears to have been a favoured abode of * Whitater's History of Craven, p. 259, ed. 1812. ■f Ibid. p. 337 ; Gent's History of Eippon (" Journey into York- shire "), p. 43. A A 2 aOO IIK.NKY LOUD CLIFI'OED. undying verse. " Whilst this battle," says the chroni- ck'i- Hall, " was in fighting, a priest, called Sir Eobert Aspall, chaplain and schoolmaster to the young Earl of Eutland, second son to the Duke of York, — scarce of the age of twelve years, a fair gentleman and a maiden- like person, — perceiving that liight was more safeguard tlian tarrying, both for him and his master, secretly conveyed the earl out of the field by the Lord Clifford's band toward the town ; but ere he could enter into a house he was by the said Lord Clifford espied, followed and taken, and, by reason of his apparel, demanded who he Avas. The young gentleman, dismayed, had not a word to speak, but kneeled on his knees imploring mercy and desiring grace, both with holding up his hands and making dolorous countenance, for his speech was gone for fear. ' Save him,' said his chaplain, ' for he is a prince's son, and peradventure may do you good heieafter.' With that word, the Lord Clifford marked him and said, ' By God's blood, thy father slow mine, and so will I do thee and all thy kin ; ' and with that Avord stuck the earl to the heart with his dagger, and bade his chaplain bear the earl's mother and brotlier .Avord Avhat he had done and said."* Notwitlistanding the appearance of truth Avliich is stamped on this remarkable passage, and also the fact that, for nearly four centmies, it has been pei-petuated by the poet, the historian, and the painter, it contiuus a point, Avhich, if proved to be imsupported by fiicts, all its patlios and imjiortanco falls to the ground. What, tlien, we Avould inquir(\ Avas the retd age of Eutland wlien he fell by the hand of the "black-faced Clifford"? Was he, in fact, the " maiden-like," interestinsr child, such as he is (Icscribed by tlie old chroniclei's ; or, on the otiicr liand, was he not of such a matm'od age as to ren- der it far more probable that lie fell in equal and honom- • JLliFs rlllollirlr. p. L'.M. HENEY LOED CLIFFOED. 357 soldier in the wars of Henry III. and of Edward I, was kOled in a skirmisli with the Welsh in the Isle of Anglesey, on St. Leonard's day, 1283. His son, Eobert first Lord Clifford, a favourite and companion in arms of Edward I., was slaia at the battle of Ban- nockburn in 1314. Eoger, the second lord, having taken up arms with Thomas Earl of Lancaster, for the pm-pose of crushing the power of the Spensers, the un- worthy favourites of Edward II., was overthrown by the king's forces at Boroughbridge, and perished on the scaffold at York in 1327. Eobert, third lord, who was also engaged in La^ncaster's msurrection, served in the wars with the Scots, and died in 1340. Eobert, the fourth lord, fought by the side of Edward the Black Prince at the memorable battles of Cressy and Poic- tiers. Eoger, the fifth lord, styled " one of the wisest and gaUantest of the Chffords," also served in the wars in France and Scotland, in the reign of Edward III. Thomas sixth Lord Chfford, one of the most chival- rous knights of his time, overcame, in a memorable passage of arms, the famous French knight, " le Sire de Burjisande," and, at the age of thirty, was kiUed in battle at Spruce in Germany. John, the seventh lord, a knight of the Garter, carried with him to the French wars three knights, forty-seven esquires, and one hun- dred and fifty archers. He fought under the banner of Henry V. at the battle of Agincourt, attended him at the sieges of Harfleur and Cherbourg, and was eventually slain, at the age of thirty-three, at the siege of Meaux in France. We have now to speak of two of the most famous of the Cliffords, father and son, whose names have been familiarized to us by the genius of Shakspeare. Their portraits may stiU be seen in that ancient and most interesting picture by John Van Eyck, " the Family of Thomas Lord Chfford," preserved at the beautiful villa of their descendant, the Duke of Devonshire, at Chiswick. A A 3 30-2 HENRY LORD CLIFFORD. only in his eighteenth year when he headed the army of his fatliLT King Henry VI., at the battle of Tewkes- bury; iuul, lastly, Edward the Black Prince was only sixteen years (jf age when he won his knightly spurs on the memorable lield of Creasy.* According to the old chroniclers, the assassination of young Eutland was not the only atrocity committed by Lord CUfford at the battle of Wakefield. " This cruel Clifford and deadly blood-supper," writes Hall, " not content with this homicide or child-killing, came to the place where the dead corpse of the Didie of York lay, and caused his head to be stricken off, and set on it a crown of paper, and so fixed it on a pole and presented it t(j the queen, not lying far from the field, in great spite and much derision, saying, 'Madam, your war is done; here is your king's ransom ;' at which present was much joy and great rejoicing. "•}■ That the head of the Duke of York was cut off, and subsequently fixed on the gates of Y'ork, there can be httle question, — " Off with his head, and set it on York gates ; So York may overlook the town of Yoik." King Henrij VI. Part III. Act i. Sc. 4. but that Lord Clifford exulted over and desecrated the remains of the illustrious dead, in the manner described * According to another faithful contoraporary chronicler, '• After the battle, Lord Clifford slew the Earl of RutLiiul, tlie son of the Duke of York, as he ivas fluing across the bridge at Wakotii'ld. 'J'hc same writer adds that the dead bodies of York. Eutlaud, and other.-! of note who fell in the battle, were decapitated, and their heads affixed to various parts of York. "William of Wyree#ter"s Annals, Lib. Niixer Sene. vol. ii. p. 8."). .Purely, if Kutland had lieeii of 80 tender .an ap:e as Hall and (Grafton deseribe him to have liein, ihe Liiiic.'islri.ans would never have disgraeed and injured their c.'Uisi' by jiiiMlcly I'xhibiliiia; the gory head of iui innocent child in lh(! iii.'iiiner d(>serilH'd. Slill less likely does it seem to be that during (lie liallle the etiild should h.ive been stationed in so perilous n jioHJlion ail (liiil which is inferred by the later chroniclers. t Hall's Chionicle, p. I'.'.l. HENEY LOED CLIFFORD. 359 Lord Clifford was probably a personal favourite with Henry VI., since that unfortunate monarch in his will, dated 12th March 1447-8, pays him the comphment of nominating him to be one of his feoffees.* John, the next and ninth Lord Clifford, — the " black- faced Chfford," as he was designated, — was only nine- teen years of age at the time when his father perished at St. Albans. Thirsting to revenge the fate of his sire, we find him pursuing the house of York with an animosity which, even in that ferocious age, rendered him terrible and famous. At the battle of Wakefield, young as he was, he is said to have caused such fearful slaughter, that it obtained for him the name of " the Butcher." f It was towards the close of that eventful day that Lord Chfford is said to have perpetrated that memorable act of cruelty, the murder of the young Earl of Eutland, which for centuries has excited iadignation and tears. The old chroniclers dehght to expatiate on the ferocity of the deed ; Shakspeare has related it in * Testamenta Vetusta, vol. i. p. 23. ■f The word " butclier," as applied to Lord CUiFord, may not iaTe been intended altogether in the offensive sense implied by the Yorkist chroniclers. In the middle ages it would seem to have , been indiscriminately applied to more than one fierce and relentless warrior. The second Duke de Guise was styled the " butcher " because he never spared the life of a Huguenot, and Oliver Clisson because he sacrificed every Englishman that fell into his hands. Such at least is the explanation which Luigi Allemano gave to Francis I., when the following passage, in which Dante makes Hugh Capet style himself the son of a " butcher," gave such offence to his royal descendant : — " lo fiii radice della mala pianta, Che la terra Gristiana tutta aduggia, Si che buon frutto rado se ne schianta. Figliuol fui d'un beccaio di Parigi." II Purgatorio, Canto xx. " I was a Paris butcher's son ; the root Of that vile plant whose noxious branches shoot O'er Christian lands; rare bearer of fair fruit." A A 4 364 HENRY LORD CLIFFORD. l);iiitl, i'uv tlic pur|)ose of rejoining the main body of the LauciistriauK, when he uHex])ectedly found himself sur- rounded by an overwhehning force. The hero of Wake- field and St. Albans resobed either to fight his way through the ranks of the enemy, or perish in the attempt. Accordingly he fought, we are told, to the admiration, and "even to the envy, of tli(jse who overcame him ; " * but his valour was all in vain. A headless arrow, discharged from behind a hedge, struck him in the throat, and the fierce Clifford fell to rise no more. His death took place on Talm Sunday, the 29th of March 1461, at the age of twenty-six. The scene of his heroism was a spot called Dittingale, situated in a small valley between Towton and Scarthingwell.f A small chapel on the banks of the Aire formerly marked the spot where lay the remains of John Lord Chflbrd, as well as those of his cousin, Henry IV'vi'v, Earl of Northumberland, who perished later in tlie day upon Towton Field. J Tor nearly a quarter of a century from this time, the name of ClifRird remained an attahited one ; their castles and seigniories passed into the hands of strangers and foes. Tlie barony of Westmoreland was conferred by Edwai'd IV. upon his brother, Eichard Duke of Glou- cester ; the castle and manor of Skipton he bestowed, in the first instance, upon Sir WilUam Stanley. § But thougli, for a while, the star of the Cliffords had set, it was not for ever. The late lord, by his yomig • Habington in Knnnet, vol. i. p. l.'V2. f Wliitakcr's IIi.st. of Craven, pp. 240, 250. i Lonl Clifford's remains are sujiposod to have been thrown into a pit wilji a proniiscuous lioap of the slain. Dr. AVliitaker, how- ever, siii;gesln that, they may have po!i,-< of the Cliffords, sinee, in the fiflccnlh yv:\r of I'.dward 1\'., we find that monaix-h transferring to IiIm " (h:ir binllin" (lie i".\MU' and domain oC .Skipton, whieh lordly !i|)|i.iii:if,';c he retained lo hi.s de^ilh on IJosworth Field. Whitakcr, p. L'.'ill. HENRY LORD CLIFFORD. 361 able combat, or in flight ? The reader will judge for himself. He was born on the 17th of May 1443, and the battle of Wakefield was fought on the 30th of Decem- ber 1460. Eutland, then, instead of being of the age of seven or twelve, was rather more than seventeen years and seven months old when he fell. A faithful contem- porary chronicler speaks of him, in the preceding month of October, as having " arrived at the years of discre- tion," and therefore as having been called upon to swear fealty to Henry VI., and to recognize his autho- rity.* There seems even to be reason for believing that, fifteen months previously to the battle of Wakefield, Eutland had fought at the battle ofBloreheath. Certaia it appears to be that when the defeat of his friends on that occasion compelled the Duke of York to fly for safety to Ireland, the young earl was the companion of his father's flight. f It should be borne in mind that in those days of extermination, when sons rapidly succeeded to the titles and grasped the swords of their sires, it was no uncommon circumstance for youths of Eutland's age not only to play their part on the field of battle, but to be intrusted with the important military commands. Edward IV. had not completed his nineteenth year when he won the sanguinary battle of Towton ; his brother, Eichard Duke of Gloucester, was only in his niaeteenth year when he commanded the " vanward " at the battle of Barnet. J Edward Prince of Wales was * Croyland Cliron. Cont. p. 455. t Leland's Collect, vol. ii. p. 497. J Edward of York, afterwards Edward IV., was bom at Eouen, 28th April 1442. Edmund of York, Earl of Eutland, was bom at Eouen, 17tli of May 1443 ; Eichard, afterwards King Eichard III., ■was bom at Fotheringay, 2nd of October, 1452. WilKam of Wyrcester, Lib. Nig. Scac. vol. ii. pp. 462, 477 ; Sandford, book v. p. 374. The battle of Wakefield was fought on the 30th December 1460; the battle of Towton on the 29th of March 1461 ; the battle of Bamet on the 14th April 1471, and the battle of Tewkesbury on the 4.th of jMay in that year. nco llENHY LOKD CLIFFORD. Yonder is a houBe — but where 7 No, they must not entor there. To the cavcH, and to the brooks, To thu clouds of hiavcn she looks ; Slie in spocclilcsM, but her eyes Pray in ghostly agoiiiijs. Blissful Maiy, j\I(jlh(r mild, Maid and Mother undefiled, Savo a mother and her child ! " Wordsworth. — Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle. The peril to which the young mother was exposed, as described in these beautiful lines, may possibly not be exaggerated. Happily there were tme and brave hearts at Lonsborough ; and accordingly, with their aid, she found the means of transporting her youngest l)oy into the Netherlands, while the eldest she com- mitted to the care of a shepherd and his wife, of whom the latter had formerly been an attendant on the cliild's nm-se. Thus, wearing the garb and associating -svith tlie children of sliepherds, did the tenth Lord Clifford pass many of the first years of his eventful life ; submit- ting unrepiningly, we are told, to the decrees of Provi- dence, and cheerfully looking forward to brighter times. • " Now who is he that bounds with joy On Carrock's side, a sliepherd boy ? No thoughts has he but thoughts that pass Light as the wind along tho gi-ass. Can this be he who hither came In secret, like a smothered flame ? O'or whom such thankful tcnrs were shod For shelter, and a poor man's broad ? God loves (lie child ; and Cod hatii willed That Ihose dear words should be fulfilled, — The lady's words when forced a^vay, The last she lo her liabo did svi y : ' My own, my own, thy fellow-giicst I may not be ; but rest thoo, rest, For lowly shepherd's life is best I ' " Si'iuj at the Feast of Brougham Castle. HENRY LORD CLIFFOBD. 363 by the old chroniclers, seems to us to be as improbable as that he should have committed the dastardly act of assassination which they so confidently lay to his charge. Lord Clifibrd fought at the second battle of St. Albans, on the 17th of February 1461. It was in his tent, after the Lancastrians had won the victory, that the unfortunate Henry VI. once more embraced his consort Margaret of Anjou, and their beloved child. Lord Clifford is usually represented as having been slain at the battle of Towton. He fell, however, in a hard-fought conflict which preceded that sanguinary engagement by a few hours. Between the two rival armies of York and Lancaster lay the pass of Ferry- bridge over the Aire, the same river which we have mentioned as flowing by Skipton, the princely castle of the Chfibrds, — " Witness Aire's unhappy water, Where the ruthless Clifford feU." SOUTHET. The pass was at this time held by the forces of King Edward, under the command of Lord Fitzwalter. To obtain possession of it was of the utmost importance to the Lancastrians ; the attempt to carry it was intrusted to Lord Chffbrd. The enterprise was successfully and brilliantly conducted. Before the Yorkists had received the sUghtest intimation of the approach of a foe, Lord CHfford, at the head of a chosen band of horsemen, had thrown himself amongst them, and made himself master of the pass. No quarter was given by the assailants ; Lord Fitzwalter, and the Bastard of Sahsbury, brother to the Earl of Warwick, were among the slain. Before many hours, however, had passed, the fortune of war was reversed. Ascertaining that King Edward had transported the vanguard of his army across the Aire at Castleford, three miles higher up the river than Ferrybridge, Lord Chffbrd was withdrawing his gallant yr,8 IIRXIIY LOUD CLIFFORD. time his mother's father, Ileniy Bromflete Lord Vesey, deceased. " And, :i htlle after his death, it came to be mur- mured at court that his daughter's two sons were aUve, about wliich their mother was examined. But her answers were that she had given directions to send them both beyond seas to be bred there, which equivo- cation of hers did the better pass, because, presently after her husband's death, she sent both her sons away to the sea-side, the younger of which, called Eichard, was indeed transported over the seas into the Low Countries to be bred there, where he died not long after. So his elder brother, Henry Lord CMbrd, was secretly conveyed back to Lonsborough again, and committed to the hands of shepherds, as aforesaid, which shepherd's Avives had formerly been servants in the family, as attending the nurse wliich gave him suck, which made him, being a child, more ^Nilling to submit to that mean condition, where they infused into him the belief that he must either be content to Hve in that manner, or be utterly undone." * The boy had scarcely returned to the care of the faithful shepherds, when, in consequence of fuilher rumours having reached the com't that the hen- of the Cliffords was still Uving, it became expedient to remove him from Lonsborough. Happily, the Lady Clifford had in the mean time given her hand to Sir Launcelot Threlkeld, of Threlkland in Cumberland, the lonl of a wild and romantic district, whicli promised a security to the orphan which Lonsborough no longer affoixied. " Sop, bcymiil ll\.Tf liamlot sin.all, Tlic ruined lnwors of 'riiiclkelJ Hull, Lurking in n doublo sliadis l\y IrciN iind lingering twilight made ! HiirlriMn MS, 0177. HENEY LORD CLIFFOED. 365 wife Margaret, daughter and sole heiress of Henry de Bromflete, Baron de Vesci, had left two infant sons, Henry and Eichard, of whom the former hved to succeed to the honours of his valiant father. Imme- diately after the battle of Towton, the children were attainted by parhament *, and the strictest search made for their persons. Happily, their maternal grandfather, the old Lord de Vesci, was stiU hving. In his youth, he had fought under the glorious banner of Henry V. in the wars in France and Normandy ; and though his valour had remained unrewarded, there is evidence of his having been treated with respectful consideration, both by Henry VI. and Edward IV. ; both of those monarchs, in token of his eminent services and ad- vanced age, having granted him a special exemption from attending parliament.f He was powerless, indeed, to avert the temporary ruin which overtook the house of ChlTord. Fortunately, however, his seat of Lons- borough afforded a home to his widowed daughter, and the wild district, by which it was surrounded, a place of concealment for his grandchildren. Accordingly, driven from the stately haUs of Skip ton and Appleby, of which she had ceased to be the mistress, thither, as soon as the dreadful fate of her lord was communi- cated to her, flew the young widow with her hunted children. " Oh ! it was a time forlorn, When the fatherless was bom. Give her wings that she may fly, Or she sees her infant die ! Swords that are with slaughter wild Hunt the mother and the child. Who will take them from the light ? — Yonder is a man in sight — * 1 Edward IV. t 3 Henry VI. and 1 Edward IV. Dugdale's Baronage, vol. ii. p. 234. :i70 IIK.N'RY LOUD CLIFFORD. seclusion of lw(;nty-l'()ur yciirs, that the signal triumph obtiiiiiod by Henry nf Iticlimond on the field of Jioswnrtli enabled Lord Clifford to emerge from ob- scLirity, und to take liis place among the magnates of the land. The part which he subsequently played during the reigns of Henry VII. and VUL, if not a distinguished, was at least a useful and an honourable one. Restored by parliament in blood and honour, he took a pleasure in improving Iris estates, and in repairing his noble castles in the north, which had fallen into decay while in the possession of strangers. ,\s a peer of the realm in parhament, to which we find him summoned from the first to the twelfth year of Henry YH., he is reported to have " behaved himself Avisely and nobly;"* and lastly, when his sovereign required his military services, he followed the example of his wai'Uke ancestors, and marshalled the youth of Westmoreland and Craven to the field. He was in- trusted with a military command in the year 1495; and, twenty years afterwards, was one of the priu- lipal leaders at the celebrated battle of Flodden — " Where shivered was fair Scothmd's spear. And broken was her shield." M'lrnnv:,. Canto vi. According to the account drawn up by his descend- ant, the Countess of Pembroke, " This Hemy Loixl Clifford did, after he came to his estate, exceedingly deliuht in astronomy and the oontemitlation of the cour.sc of the stars, which it is likely he was seasoned in during the time of his sliepherd's life. He buUt a ^rciit part oi' 15arden Tower, Avhicii is now much (lecnyed, and there he lived much, which it is thought lie (lid the rallicr because in that place ho had fm'uislied ' llaiKian IMS. (',177. HENEY LORD CLIFrOED. 367 It would be difficult to point out a story in real life more romantic than that of the " shepherd-lord," or, as he is occasionally designated, " the good Lord Clifford." * According to an interesting MS. account drawn up by his illustrious descendant, Anne Chfford, Countess of Dorset, Pembroke, and Montgomery, " This Henry Lord Chfford was one of the examples of the varieties of fortune in this world ; for though he was born the eldest son of a great nobleman, yet presently after his father's death, when himself was about seven years old f , he was, by the care and love of an in- dustrious mother, put into the habit of a shepherd's boy, to conceal his birth and parentage ; for had he been known to have been his father's son and heir, he would either have been put in prison, or banished, or put to death, so odious was the memory of his father for killing the young Earl of Eutland, and for being such a desperate commander against the house of York, which then reigned. So, in the condition of a shepherd's boy at Lonsborough, where his mother hved then for the most part, did this Lord Clifford spend his youth till he was about fourteen, about which * " In Mm the savage virtue of the race, Eevenge, and all ferocious thouglits, were dead : Nor did he change, but kept in lofty place The wisdom which adversity had bred. " Glad were the vales, and every cottage hearth ; The Shepherd-lord was honoured more and more ; And, ages after he was laid in earth, The ' good. Lord Clifford ' was the name he bore." Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle. t In another part of the MS. it is intimated that he was probably about six or seven years of age. If it be the case, however, that his father was only twenty-six years old when he fell at Towton, the probability seems to be that his heir was of still tenderer years than is represented in either statement. 372 HENRY LORD CLIFFORD. kinsman King Ileniy VII., since, about the year 1506, we find hira subjecUid to iIk: annoyance of being forced to pnulufe L'videut'c; oi' tin; validity of Piis titles to his lands, u ritation, however, to which he appears to have most satisfactorily responded.* But a far lieavier distress, occasioned by the wild libertinism of liis eldest son Henry, afterwards first Earl of Cumberland, saddened the closing years of the " shepherd-lord." There is extant a very curious letter addressed by Lord Clifford to a member of the king's privy council, in which he pathetically laments his son's misconduct. " I doubt not," he says, " but you remember when I was afore you, with other of the king's hiuhness's council ; and there I showed unto you the ungodly and ungoodly disposition of my son Ileui}- Clifford, m such wise as it was abominable to hear it ; not only disobcjing and despitmg my com- mands, and threatening my servants, saving that if aught came to me, he should utterly destroy all, as appeareth more likely in striking with his own hand my poor servant Henry Popley, in peril of deatli, which so lieth and is like to die. But also [he] spoiled my houses and feloniously stole away my proper goods, wliich was of great substance, only of malice and for maintaining his inordinate pride and riot, as more espe- cially did appear when he departed out of the court and came into the coimtry, apparelled himself and his horse in cloth of gold and goldsmith's work, more like a • " About the twenty-first year of Kina; Houry VII., lie, the said Lord ('lifTiiril, wiis in some di.sgnico with the sidd kina:, so as the said king c.wsril him (o lirini; into the jinWio court all his evidences to Hhow by wli.Tl riglil he hcUl all his liinds in AVcslniorcIand and the Hhrridiick nf ihiil oonnlv, ns iippcnrs bv sonic records, which plead- iii(j;M find rcciird.s did nnicli help I'orwiird lo llic miinilcstation of the tilli\ mill riglil. of (lie I.ndy Aiuic Clillord, now Countess Powagcr of Ti niliroke, In Ihe said lands iind sherifTnek." — llarl. 3/.S. C177. HENRY LORD CLIFFORD. 369 There, at Blencathara's rugged feet, Sir Launcelot gave a safe retreat To noble CliiFord ; from annoy Concealed the persecuted boy. Well pleased in rustic garb to feed His flock, and pipe on shepherd's reed Among this multitude of hills. Crags, woodlands, waterfalls, and rills." Wordsworth. — The Waggoner, Canto iv. To Threlkeld, then, the " sorrowful mother " removed the faithful shepherd and his wife, and with them her persecuted boy. Even tliis wild and remote region, however, did not always afford him security. The last of the Cliffords, we are told, was " kept as a shepherd, sometimes at Threlkeld amongst his father-in-law's kindred, and sometimes upon the borders of Scotland, where they took land purposely for those shepherds who had the custody of him, where many times his father-in-law came purposely to visit him, and some- times his mother, though very secretly."* " The boy must part from Mosedale's groves. And leave Blencathara's rugged coves. And quit the flowers that summer brings To Glenderamakin's lofty 'springs ; Must vanish, and his careless cheer Be turned to heaviness and fear. Give Sir Launcelot Threlkeld praise ! Hear it, good man, old in days ! Thou tree of covert and of nest For this young bird, that is distrest ; Among the branches safe he lay. And he was free to sport and play When falcons were abroad for prey." WoEDSWOETH. — Song at theFeast of Brougham Castle. It was not till after he had undergone a perilous * Harleian MS. 6177. Threlkeld lies on the high road between Keswick and Penrith, at the foot of the mountain of Saddleback. B B 374 IIKXRY LORD CLIFFORD. ever, of his having hcoii intnistcd witli an important mili- tary coinnKUul, us well as the; deep interest which he took in the study of astrolo^^y, secins to contradict the asser- tion. In further presumption that he was not the illiterate person -whuni he is sometimes represented to have been, may be mentioned his having presented the priory of Bolton Avith " A Treatise of Natural Philo- sophy," in old French. From some \erscs, written by Henry second Earl of Cumberland, previously to his marriage to the Lady Eleanor Brandon, niece of Henry Vni., it would seem that, at the dissolution of the priory of Bolton, the treatise in question again came into the possession of the Chffords.* Henry Lord Clifford was twice married. His first wife was Anne, only daughter of Sir John St. John of Bletslioe, knight, and cousin-german to King Hemy Vll. The chronicler of the Clifford family describes her as a lady of " singular vhtue, goodness, and piety."f Li the reign of Charles I. some tapestry hangings worked by her hands, displaying the arms of Chfford and St. John, were still to be seen on the walls of Skipton Castle. J By this lady, Lord Clifford was the father of Hemy first Earl of Cumberland, of Sir Thomas Chffoi-d, governor of Berwick Castle, and of Edward Clifford, who died young. Lady Clifford also bore him four daughters. The second wife of the *' shepherd-loixi " was Florence, daughter of Henry Pudsay, of an ancient family in the deanery of Craven, and widow of Sir Thomas Talbot, knight, of Basludl, in Craven. By diis lady he had two sons, wlio died young, and one daughter, Dorothy, who became the wife of Sir Hugh Ldwllier, of Lowtiier, in Weslnioreland,aud from whom tlie I'/irls of Lonsilalc^ are descended. Wliilnkor, |.. •J:.;!. noli', t ('-'"''Ct- ClilTonl. p. SG. \ Il.i.l. p. ;!7. HENEY LORD CLIFFORD. 371 himself with materials and instruments for that study. He was a plain man, and hved for the most part a country hfe, and came seldom either to the court or to London but when he was called there to sit in them as a peer of the realm, in which parliament, it is re- ported, he behaved himself wisely and nobly, and Kke a good Englishman." * Barden Tower, in Yorkshire, the favourite retreat of the "shepherd-lord" from the pomps and vanities of the world, stUl remains, an interesting memento of his romantic fortunes. " He retired," says Dr. Whitaker, " to the sohtudes of Barden, where he seems to have enlarged the tower out of a common keeper's lodge, and where he found a retreat equally favourable to taste, to instruction, and to devotion."'}' According to Dugdale, the vicinity of Barden Tower to the priory of Bolton, the canons of which house were well versed in astronomy, was the reason why Lord Clifford selected it to be his principal residence.^ " Most liappy in the shy recess Of Barden's lowly quietness ; And choice of studious friends had he Of Bolton's dear fraternity ; Who, standing on this old church tower, In many a calm propitious hour, Perused with him the starry sky ; Or, in their cells, with him did pry For other lore, by keen desire Urged to close toil with chemic fire." Wordsworth. — Wliite Doe of Bylstone, Canto i. Lord Chfford, by the prudent management of his large estates, " grew to be a very rich man." His wealth, indeed, would seem to have excited the cupidity of his * Harl. MS. 6177. I Whitaker's Hist, of Craven, p. 252. j Dugdale's Baronage, vol. i. p. 343. "b B 2 HENEY LOED CLIFFORD, 373 duke than a poor baron's son as he is. And, moreover, I showed unto you, at that time, his daily studying how he might utterly destroy me his poor father, as well by slanders shameful and dangerous as by daily otherwise vexing and inquieting my mind, to the shortening of my poor life." The future earl and knight of the Garter is de- scribed elsewhere as turning outlaw, assembling a band of dissolute followers, and rendering himself the terror of the north. " Moreover," writes his father, " he in his country maketh debate between gentlemen, and troubleth divers houses of rehgion to bring from them their tithes, shamefully beating their tenants and servants in such wise as some whole towns are fain to keep the churches both night and day, and dare not come at their own houses." * The heir of the Cliffords subsequently quitted his irregular mode of life, but whether his father had the satisfaction of surviving to witness his son's reformation has been questioned. As the son, however, was twice married, and, by his second wife. Lady Margaret Percy, became a father before he had attained the age of twenty-four, the probabihty seems to be that he was weaned at an early age from his abandoned courses, f It has been said, that, in order to prevent the im- portant secret of his birth from transpiring, the educa- tion of the " shepherd-lord " was purposely neglected, and that he could barely write his name. J The fact, how- * Whitaker's Hist, of Craven, p. 255 ; Sir E. Brydges' Peerage, vol. vi. p. 521. f His first wife was Margaret, daughter of George fourth Earl of Shrewsbury. His second wife was daughter of Henry fifth Earl of Northumberland, by Eleanor, daughter of Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset ; being thus lineally descended from John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. Sir E. Brydges' Peerage, vol. vi. p. 521. t Harl. MS. 6177. DRAMATIS PERSONyE. Cardinal BoiTRCniER, Archbishop of Canterbury. The Earl 0/ Richmond, afterwards King Hexiiy the Sneath. Thomas Lord Stanley, aftenvards Earl 0/ Derby. Master Henry, afterwards Lord Clifford. e lo\e, or veiy near akin to it ; And Avhom but Alice has he seen to love ? Besides, Hugh, I\laster Trafford — llngli. Bah I a trace With RhisttT Trafford ; — and now mark me, dame! Th(^ niMstei- will not wed her. True it is. His lu'art is warm and generous ; but he's proud, — Too proud to ni!i(e liim willi the sliepherd's ohDd. Jiath. Troud H J\L;istei- llcuiy proud ?— believe it not. THE LAST WAE OF THE KOSES. cc 382 THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act. I. Can Master Ilcnry be ? I half suspect Your pretty Alice makes a willing slave Of my old playmate. Never lovelier eve Sped youth and beauty to their trysting place. Well 1 ye've a friend's best wishes that their loves Prove pure and constant as your own. Hugh. \_.Ulde.'\ I fear Thou art an oil-tongued hypocrite, and yet Men say thou'rt honest. [Aloud.'] Much we thankthee, sir! Although unweeting of our cause for joy. But, see ! here comes your friend. Enter Cufford and Alice Babtbam. Tmf. WeU, Master Henry ! How fares it with thee and blithe Mistress Alice ? Love's a sweet pastime, if the wooing's honest That plants such roses on a maiden's cheek. ^1/;V['. Honest! — I marvel much what honesty And thou can have in common. As for wooing. Were it my sorrow to be wooed by thee, Metliinks the roses which thou carpest at Would fade more fast than if the caidier nipped them. Ituth. Hush ! Alice, thou forgettest the respect That's due to Master TrafFord. ITiKjIi.. \_Aside.'] Nay, for me, I like the spirit of the girl. Tmf. WeU, well !— I will retract, fair mistress mine ! and own 'Twas not the wooing, but the mountnin-broeze, That lent such blooming colour to thy cheeks. Alice. The mouiilaiu-breeze is sometimes bitter, sir! But ne'er so cutting as a slaudeivr's tongue. r///'. Niiy, Ahce I rate him not ;he means no harm. Aliee. ['/() Tntjjhrd.'] AVell ! if I'm free of speech, I'm l'r;nik of lie;ii-t ; Wlu'icroiv i'oi- quiet's sake I'll pardon thee, So lierc's my hand. THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. ACT I. SCEKE I. Threlkeld, at the foot of the mountain of Saddleback. A garden in front of a cottage. Hugh Baeteam and EuTH Baeteam seated. Hugh. How fair the sun sets on yon craggy height ! Thus ever, ere he sinks to rest, he throws A parting smile upon the shepherd's roof. Ruth. Twelve years, twelve happy years, we have dwelt here, Hugh. Hugh. And twice twelve years thy fond and faith- M heart, — StiU fresh, old wife, as when I wooed thee first. Has hnked itself to mine. Yon honeysuckle Twines not more closely round its bridal ehn. Than once thou clung'st to me up life's rough road, Nor chng'st less firmly now 'tis rough no more. I would, dear Euth ! that our remaining years May ghde as calmly as the last away. Ruth. Thy words sound sadly. Bugh. I was thinking dame, Of Master Henry and our pretty Alice. c c 2 884 TIIK LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act I. Clif. But ol" (jur English chivalry have none I'roclaimed themselvtJB the friends of Lancaster? Traf. Yes! — the Earl's uncle, Jasper Earl of Pem- broke, And John dc Vere, the stout old Earl of Oxford, Embarked with him at liar flour ; and, since then, Sir Gilbert Talbot and his beardless ward, Earl Shrewsbury, have led to the Eed INjse The vassals oi" their house. Clif. And are these all ? Truf. Not quite. Sir William Brandon, Sir John Savage, Sir "Walter Eungerford, Sir Thomas Bourchier, Have also armed for Lancaster. Clif. I fear, Suspense weighs heavy on her Grace. Traf Alas ! It wrings her heart to see her lord array Her vassals, to support the man she loathes AgauiSt the son she doats on. Clif Then thou thinkest Lord Stanley will be steadfast for the King ? Traf So high in royal favour — canst thou doubt it? Clif Yot to do battle in a tjTaut's cause, 'Gainst his own wife and step-son, seems an act A noble mind should shrink from. \To EuTH.] Dearest mother ! — For mother thou hast ever been to mo. — I fain would speak apart with thee. [r(?/(\« her aside-l Traf \_Asi(le to Hubert.] Xow, Hubert ! — Now is the time or never. Hub. Masta- Trafford, I dare not do this deed. Traf Tliou dar'st not, Hubert?— TjivoH tlu'iT tlie man wlio dares to say — he dare not? 1 tell tlu'c I — that I saw tlieiu lip to lip. With sucli delight in their enamoured eyes, Scene I.] THE LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. 381 Hugh. The poor, when poverty's their only crime, Are always proud. Men oftener pride themselves On gifts they have not than on gifts they have ; Thus is he prouder of his lost estate Than if he swayed his father's heritage, And lorded it o'er Skipton's princely towers. Dame ! I've a dreadful thought. — Could I believe He'd tamper with the virtue of our child, — Nay, — dare approach her with unholy wish, I'd — Ruth. What ? — betray him to his enemies ? — My own, my noble foster-child ? Nay, Hugh I Thou could'st not harbour such a ruthless thought, Hugh. Dame ! thou art right ; yet, if a father's wrath E'er nerved a father's arm, — young, lusty, brave, And noble though he be, and I infirm And old, — I'd lay the spoiler at my feet. Nor waste one pang though he arose no more. Euih. Nay, Hugh, thou wrong'st him ! since the fearftd day My Lord was slain at Towton, he has been Our joy, our hope, our comfort. If he loves Our child, 'tis with a love as chaste as ours ; BeHeve me, Hugh, it is. Hugh. Believe me, dame ! Unequal love is seldom holy love, And therefore seldom augurs happiness. Well, well ! I will absolve him from this wrong ; But coronets are not for us, old dame, And therefore that she wed an honest man Is all Hugh Bartram wishes for his child. Ruth. See, Hugh, who comes ! Hugh. Talk of the foul one, dame ! Enter Martin Trafford and Hubert. Traf. Heaven guard ye both, my worthy friends ! — but where c c 3 386 TUB LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. Act I. Why! when tlic country dulls, 'tis ever thus Your courlici- wlulcs his idle hours away. CUf. Shame ou thee, Miirtiii Trafford I Can'st thou think I'd 2)lant dishonour on the hearths of those Wh(j have loveil and sheltered me from infancy? I owe thee much, yet wilt thou cancel all If e'ei' again thou dost impute to me Such base and cruel wrong. — For shame, I say ! Traf. Bethink thee !— I accused thee not. I did But glance at tlie ill courses of the world. And pleased I am that, like myself, thou scom'st them. I did not merit this rebuff from thee. We'll meet again at Skipton, when I tnist Thou'lt do thy fiiend more justice. [Exit. t 'I if. I was wrong ; But why did he so gall me ? — I must now To bid a tenderer and more sad farewell. [E.tit SCENE II. .'1 (h-ove iwar Tlwclkeld. Trafford solus. Traf. He loves the Lady Anne ! — but loves her not With the wild passion which her peerless channs na\e kindled in my own tempestuous heai't Loves her? — By all the saints, coidd I but claim The privilege to kiss awiiy one tear From the long lushes of her violet eyes. Or raise one blush upon her delicate cheek. I w^ould not chniige it for (he diadem That eri' to-inorn)\v may be won or lost ! Tie loves her ! — And she lined him till that hour I fed her credulous eiu's with (he belief 'I'hat hIic \v;is slighted for n meaner ilame, 'J'his village ]\biy(jueen Alice. 'Twas a he ^ Scene I.] THE LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. 383 Traf. And a most fair one. Alice. Silence ! I hold thy praise still cheaper than thy taunts. Clif. Hush, Alice! and now tell us, Martin Traf- ford ! — What news from Skipton, and how fares her Grace ? Traf. Her Grace is well in health, but sorely chafed In spirit. Clif. No mishap, I trust, has crossed her. Traf. Mishap, forsooth ? — What ! — know ye not, her son, My lord of Eichmond, has set foot in Wales, And leads a rebel army 'gainst the King ? Clif. [_Aside.'\ Can it be so ? — Then Heaven at last has heard The prayer I have breathed since childhood, \_Aside to Traford?^ Mark me, Trafford ! This night I must to Skipton, and from thence Speed to Earl Eichmond's camp. I fain would bear A part in this great struggle. Hint it not To Bartram nor his wife; — I fear 'twould grieve them. Traf. And Mistress Alice too ? Clif. Is this a time For idle jesting ? -^ Shame upon thee, Trafford! [7b Bartram.'] Father ! thou heard'st what Master Trafford said? Hugh. I did ; and fain I would be young again To strike a blow for Lancaster. Clif Now, Trafford ! TeU us where lie the rival armaments ; What barons, knights, and gallant gentlemen, Have spread their banners at young Eichmond's call? Traf. The King is on his march from Nottingham, Eager to battle with the Earl, whose force, Half armed, iU disciplined, is feebly matched Against the veteran legions of the crown. c c 4 38H THE LAST WAR OP THE HOSES. [Act I. To sit wilh Alice and licr prattling babes ! But if— lltd). Nay, Muster TrafTord ! tempt me not. Tnif. But if, I say ! thou jtausest, ponder well ! — Slie's virtuous now, l)ut will slie long be chaste If tried and tempted further ? Think of this ! Picture her, Hubert, as tlie castaway Of Master Henry's love ! — a tainted thing For scorn to point its finger at ! — then tell me ! Wilt leave so fair a floweret to be crushed When thou hast power to save her ? [Iluhert hesitates.'] Come, quick, quick ! Give me the papers ! Hub. [_(riving them.'] Take them! If there's wrong. The devil and thou art guilty, and not I. Traf. [Jlciuliutj.'] What have we here ? — mysterious references To one 'of noble birth, — from peril snatched In infancy, and nursed 'midst glen and fell, — Allusions to ancestral virtue, valom\ — To lands escheated, — titles forfeited ; Yet, curse it ! not a name nor particle Of clue to solve the riddle. Ha ! — what's tliis ? A siguet ? — I should know this cognizimce, A dragon peering from a castle-wall. The same that's fashioned upon every porch And battlement of Skipton. Can it be This rustic upstart is indeed the whelp Of that gi'im lord who fell on Towton field. The black-faced CliflbrdP— Yes ! it must be he. Great Edward searclied for him and found hira not; King lliiluu'd tracked him, but he clutched him not. But / h:'.ve tracked him, Hubert ! I shall clutch him. Why, man! thou dost not smile, — thou look'st dis- trn,ught ! Know tlien I iJiis si'crel, carried to the court, Scene I.] THE LAST WAE OP THE ROSES. 385 The Sight had changed thy nature to a fiend's. Thou art not a coward, Hubert ? Hub. No, by Heaven ! — . Wrong shall be met by wrong ; — I'll do thy bidding. Traf. Quick then, brave Hubert, quick ! [Hubert enters the Cottage unperceived. Clif. [To EuTH.] Nay, urge me not ! I must at once to Skipton. Ruth. Much I fear Thou hankerest for these wicked wars. Dear son, .1 pray thee — go not, — leave us not ! Clif. Thou knowest How much I owe the Lady Margaret ; And therefore, in her hour of need, 'twere meet I offer my poor service to her Grace. Thou would'st not love me did I otherwise. Ruth. Yes, go ! — it Is thy duty ; yet I feel A sinking of the heart as if some ill Boded our happy home. Clif. Nay, weep not, mother ! And thou too, Alice, dry those fooUsh tears. I'll not be long a truant. And now leave me Awhile with Master Trafford ; I'll within Anon, and wish you all a kind farewell. [Exeunt Hugh, Euth, and Alice. Trafford ! what mean these banterings which imply I look on Alice with a trifler's love ? Traf. 1 did but hint what others plainly speak. Clif. Why utter what thou knowest to be false ? Lives there not one, pure, noble, beautiful, As dear to me as Hfe — almost as Heaven? Thou know'st there is ; then why this ribaldry ? Traf. Did man ne'er court two maidens at one time? 'Tis clear that Ahce loves thee, and thou'rt not The first man who has wooed a high-born maid. Yet chased a lowlier one for pastime's sake. .■i;)0 THR LAST WAR OP THE ROSES. [Act I. SCENE III. Di'rwentipaler Luke. Sf. I/er/iert's Ida m the Distance. Moonli(jlit. Clifford .vy/«.9. Clif. How beautifal ye are ! ye countless stars ! Ye marvel of all ages and all climes ! Thoiigh from my shepherd-life no lore I'd learned But what I have read in your illumined tome, Not worthless has my serfdom been. But, lo ! The holy father at my signaUing Laimches his shall(^p from St. Herbert's Isle, His oars responding to the vesper hynm. Monks voices are heard chanting. Ave Maria ! Dei Matrem Te laudamus : Sis in nobis Te oramus ; Et in Te nos maneamus ; Ave Maria ! Ave Maria ! Tu somnmn das cubaiiti ; Das oonjugem amanti ; Matremque das infanti ; Ave Mtu'ia ; Ave ]\laria ! In Imra hae soporum ; Mcinor Oslo Tu sorvornm Mismoro Tu dolorum ; K\x' Maria I Scene II.] THE LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. 387 A damned lie — but love's itself a lie ; At least I have ever found it so. Confound him ! He has crossed my path, as man ne'er crossed it yet But I have crushed him. Would that I could glean Tliis secret of his birth ! 'Tis evident There's death in the divulgement ; and he dies If hving he thus thwarts me. But here comes The knave who should resolve this mystery. Enter Hubert. Hast brought the papers, Hubert ? — By thy look I see thou hast ; — quick, quick ! and give me them. Hub. Nay, Master TrafFord ! something whispers me I am doing wrong, — perchance a deadly wrong. Traf. Wrong? 'tis no theft, man. — Why! in half an hour Thou shalt replace the papers whence they came. And no one be the wiser. Bub. Save my conscience. Which were the worst accuser. Trqf. Nonsense, man ! Hand me the papers and I'll give thee gold — Gold thrice the weight thy brawny arms can bear. Then treble it again. Huh. I need not wealth ; I would not seU my soul for mines of gold. Traf. Then ! to revenge thee on the pitiful wretch Who has so wronged thee, — has so wronged us both. Give me the papers, and, I swear to thee, This night he shall depart from hence, — for weeks, — For months, — nay, p'rhaps for ever. Thou alone With Ahce, she wiU soon forget his wiles. Hugh Bartram smiles upon thy suit, — thou 'rt young, — Of winning presence — hast the means to wed with, — Ahce is Bartram's heir. Besides, bethink thee! How sweet 'twill be, around the blazing hearth. ,1<)'2 TTTE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. Act I. When, yielding to a mother's tears, I vowed That, Have thy blessing and consent should cheer The orphan on his way, I ne'er would quit These pc^accfal valleys for the perilous world. F. Fraa. Thou didst : what then I-' Clif. Father ! the hour has come. Thou must release me from that pledge. F. Fran. Whence springs This wild resolve ? Thou dost not, — caiist not mean To leave me, Henry ? I am near my end, And fondly hoped, at Heaven's appointed time. To lay my head upon thy breast and die, As died thy father upon mine. Nay, nay ! Thou wilt not leave me ? I have none to love On this side heaven but thee, dear boy. Clif. ' Alas ! Father, it must be so. F. Frail. Nay ! fly not hence Wlicre peace and virtue dwell. The world has naught To give thee in exchange for innocence. Cross with me rather to my lonely isle, And, with the balmy morn and the bUthe lai'k, Thou shalt away to Skiddaw's heathy side, Starting the blackcock on his glorious flight Do^vn the fair glens which are his heritage. Clif. Nay, Father, urge me not I Young Lancaster Is marching 'gainst the foulest, bloodiest king Who ever stole a sce])tre. Then, shall I — The last descendant of a line whose chiefs From sire to son ha\e died a warrior's death — Forsake the cause for which my lathers fell? My grandsire iit St. Albans bit the dust : My sire lies low on Towt^u's gory field : Thinkst thou they'd rest in quiel if their heir Skulked 'ncalh a sheiiherd's roof, nor dealt one blow In cause of God, his birthright, and his king? Scene II.] THE LAST WAR OF THE KOSES. 389 Were worth an earldom, and will make his life As worthless as his title-deeds. But hark ! — Whose voice was that ? Ruth. [Within.] Oh, Alice! we are robbed, Most foully robbed. Hub. Eobbed, said she, Master Traiford ? And I the thief, — Heaven help me ! Traf. Hush ! good Hubert ; I see it all ! — Ere he departs from hence This shepherd-lordhng would possess himself Of these same writings. [Conceals them.'] They'll be safe with me ; Me they'll suspect not ; but if found on thee, Good Hubert ! they might hang thee for a thief, For which I should be sorry. Come, quick, quick ! Let us away ! Hub. Fool ! fool that I have been ! [Exeunt.] Enter Clifpoed and Euth Baeteam. Clif. Fay ! fret not, mother ! Should Earl Eichmond hurl Ejng Eichard from his iU-got throne, my loss Win matter Httle, since my name and birth Are clearly proved already. jRuth. Should he fail. What then ? Clif. I can but seek a foreign shore Where tyrant's rage can reach me not, but where There will be none to love the shepherd-lord As thou hast loved him, mother. But dost see ? Trafford but now is leading forth his horse. Who knows but his quick fancy may suggest Some means to track the plunderer ? Come, come ! Thou tak'st this grief too heavily to heart. FoUow me, mother ! — Ho ! there, Martin Trafford. [Exeunt^ .'?f)4 TUB LAST WAR OF THE KOSES. [Act I. And, as men say, a doughty one, hast oft I''..\plained to nie the battle-fields whereon Thou I'ouglitest by my dreaded father's side ; Shown me the use (jT column, Une, and square. Of trenches, palisades, and counterscarps. I am young — I am strong of limb — I am stout of heart — I am used to toil— I sleep on beds as hard As the stone vaults in which my sires rechne ; Arid, for my skill in weapons, sword and lance, Much Master Trafford taught me in the days We spent together by her Grace's will. F. Fran. Yes ! she foresaw and reared thee for this hour. I yield, my son ! Yet, hear me, ere we part ! Go forth ! but wear the breastplate of the soul ! Equip thee from the armoury of Heaven ! Le't faitli and piety thy henchmen be. And chastity thy handmaid ! In the camp Blush not to own thy God ! The soldier's trade Is in itself an honourable one, Wor't not tljat scoffers, gamesters, rufflei's, fop?. Would make it otherwise. Eegard tlie world And the world's pleasures as thy deadUest foes ! Be slow to anger ! lend thine car to aU ; Thy confidence to few ! Speak ill of none ! Eespect the faitli of others ; guard thine owii ! Seek rather to be loved than to bo feared ! And now go forth and conquer ! All I have — The pray'rs and blessings of a weak old man Who served thy fatlicr, and who loves ]\is son, I freely, fondly give thoo. \_Emhraccs him.'] Faro I bee well! C'/if. l''nrewell, my besi, my oarliost friend ! — Farc- ■wol ^E.n'unt. Scene III.] THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. 391 In the mean time. Father Francis rows from the island and lands. F. Fran. Welcome, my son ! thrice welcome ! May the peace Of Heaven rest with thee ! Old age, dear boy, Breeds sickly fancies, and our passing-bell ToUs oftener than its wont was. But thoii, too, Art changed, — what ails thee ? Since the day I shrived Thy dymg sire at Towton ; — since tlie hour I snatched thee from thy frantic mother's arms, And to the friendly mist and the wild fell Bore thee, frail trembler, from that hell-hound, man, Thou hast told me all thy sorrows. Can it be. The Lady Anne still frowns upon thy suit ? Clif. Father, alas! she does. Had Heaven thought fit That I should woo her with the power and pomp With which my sires rode wooing, I had deemed It was my lands, and not myself, she loved. But when she loved me, for she loved me once, 'Twas to the seeming peasant that she gave Tears for my vows and blushes for my sighs. Yet now ! — when I address her as her peer, She shuns me, — scorns me. F. Fran. Hast thou questioned her Touching her maiden waywardness ? Clif. I have : Proudly, I own, for I had cause for pride. Since too much love had been my only crime. F.Fran. What then? Clif. With more of scorn than I had deemed Could ruffle such angehc gentleness, She bade me probe the bane in mine own heart. Nor dare iatrude the worthless theme again. But graver cause it is that leads me hither. Thou may'st remember, father ! the sad hour. 39G THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act I. Iiicciisc'd by licr hereditary wron;.rs, Outstep tlie iiieekncss TJiy example taught, Forgive lier for lier sorrows' sake ! Alas! My haughty humour, it may be, has lost My noble boy a diadem. Enter Lord Stanley. Stan. Methinks Thy message, Margaret, was a lowly one. Count. My lord ! I am thy prisoner and thy wife ; The last a name, yet both reaUties, And therefore claiming due respect from me. St(in. Nay, Margaret ! not mij prisoner, but the king's. Count. The king's ! Thou mean'st that robber of men's lands And lives, thou call'st thy sovereign. But enough Of .sneers and angry tauntings ! Good my lord ! Two rival hosts are in the field : the peer Quakes for his head, the peasant for his home ; Yet I, the representative of kings. And heroes stateUer than a race of kings, I, — Avith Hfe, lands, and freedom, all at stake. Am left as weetless as the meanest liiud Of all that passes in the court and camp. Ev'n while I speak, my lost, my only one, May bleed untended on the battle-field. Or else be pent in the dark dungeon-vaults Of the fierce king thou scrvcst. Stan. Calm thyself! When the Inst tidings left the rebel camp. Thy sou, Earl Uichinond, was uuscathed and free. Count. Then there is hope lor him, — for Liuicastev ! Oh ! I,<'11 me all thou cnust ! Thy liege liimsell', liliick though he be, would graul me the poor boon; l'\)i' 1 aui powerless now to work iiim harm. And my soul's ngony is hard to bear. Scene HI.] THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. S93 F. Fran. Yet ! think what perils compass thee around ! Think of thy mother's tears and of the love I have ever borne thee ! Clif. Can a mother's tears Wash out a son's dishonour ? As for peril, I risk no more than Pembroke, Shrewsbury, Oxford, And other nobles in Earl Eichmond's ranks. F. Fran. No more than they .? — Bethink thee of the blood Thy sire poured forth at "Wakefield ! Deemest thou That Gloucester could forgive the son of him Who slew his father, York, and that fair boy. Young, gentle, pleading Eutland ? Oh, my son ! Bethink thee of the ruthless men who hold Thy lands and lordships ! the fell king himself Swaying thy barony of Westmoreland, And Skipton's stately towers. Should he chance To track the first-born of the black-faced Chfford, The vilest weed that rots on yon bright lake Might weigh against thy hfe and heritage. Clif. What ! if false friend or paltry pUferer Had filched the vouchers of my birth, and blabbed My tale to all the world ? F. Fran. Ev'n then, my son. Bethink thee! — WTien thy sires went forth to fight. They led the flower of Craven to the field ! Prom StaincliiFe, Addingham, and Litton Dale, Prom Linton, Horton Pells, and Pendle Hill, Prom Longstroth, Penigent, and Wharledale, Poured forth the loving vassals of thy house ! * But, thou ! — untutored in the wUes of war ; Unpractised in the use of sword and lance ; Of what avail will be thy single arm ? Clif. Nay, Father ! thou thyself a soldier once, * See note at the end of the Drama. D D linn THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act I. But, oh, my Lord I the j)riceleas hours speed on. I will not deem thsit in thy secret heart Thou i'avourest this foul, disloyal king, The murderer of those sleeping innocents. Whom, as thyself hast told me, thou hast seen Climbing, and pratthng on King Edward's knees, Wilde their soft sire would press thy hands in his. And, with his infants' weakness in his eyes. Adjure thee, when the vault should close o'er him. To sliield his orphans with a soldier's might. And prove the father of the fatherless. And thou didst promise what great Edward craved : Was it not so, Lord Stanley ? Stan. Urge me not! Thy tears may grieve, but cannot alter me. Count. Yet ! ere too late, bethink thee ! — The fair name Beqiieathed thee by thy forefathers, — the oath Thou swor'st to thy dead master, — the State's weal, — The weal of unborn miUions, — Heaven itself, — Cite thee to sweep a tyrant from the earth, Or share the doom that waits liim. Oh, remember ! Poor Edmund Tudor was thy friend : he died Ilokhng thy hand, and mm-mm-ing thy name : His orphan is thy stepson ; wilt thou send His darlmg to the headsman ? — Shall he die ? — Die in his prime ? — my beautiful, my o^vu ? No, no, my Lord ! Behold ! upon my kuees Tlius fling I pride and anger to the "winds. And claim thy mercy, pity. [A'/jtv/x.] Pause, oh, pause! Pause, ere thou lengvi'st thee with tliis mm'derou;* king! i'uuse, ere thou perillest thy soul's repi^se. Here and heri'aftor! St(Ui. Piylhee, urge mo not ! I ;icl but in nccordance wifli the oath We swore lo him at Weslmiusler: ay, ire! — Till' (Ifiy \sv kneh. al llie Coiilessoi-'s shrine; Tlial (l:i) wlieii Miirgnret of lAUK-isler Scene IV.] THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. 395 SCENE IV. An Apartment in Skipton Castle. The Princess Elizabeth, Margaret, Countess of EiCHMONU, Akne St. JoHisr, and female Attendants. Count. This long suspense grows terrible. Anne. Dear Aunt:! So saint-like as thou art, so strong in faith, So perfected by penance — sore indeed Must be liie grief that racks thee so. Count Sweet Anne ! 00 to my lord, who loves thy seraph face, And tell him his poor beadswoman entreats Five minutes of his time. [^Ewit Anne. [To the Attendants.'] Fair maidens, leave me ! Should my lord deign to visit me, 'twere meet 1 should confer with him alone. [Exeunt Attendants. And thou, Dear Princess, go and pray for us ! Black clouds Are brooding o'er thy kingly house and mine. And Heaven alone can succour us. P. Eliz. 'Tis hard To see thee thus distraught. Count. Yet harder still To find myself a suppliant to this lord, Whom, when we wedded, I so fondly hoped To fashion to my will, and by his means Eebuild the fortunes of my house ? But, lo ! Here comes my jailor and my lord. Farewell ! P. Eliz. Farewell ! Nay, kiss me, mother-mine ! and see Thou bear'st thee bravely with thy lord. [Exit P. Elizabeth. Count: Sweet Christ I Should Margaret of Lancaster, this day, DD 2 400 THE LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. [Act I. Wlierei(jro, us tliis farewell may be our last, I iiiiu would part in Christian peace with thee, Forgiving and forgiven : shall it be so ? Count Far rather would I we had never met ! Go ! traitor to thy God and to thy King ! If I award thee not a mother's curse, 'Tis that I'm mute at the behest of One Thou hast renounced, I fear, since infancy. Stan. Whom speak 'st thou of? Count. That Holy Power who yet Win vindicate the right. Stan. Thou know'st me not ; May'st never know me, Margaret. If we've erred From want of mutual charity, I ask, Was I the only sinner ? Was it well To treat me as thy dupe ? the which thou didst Till, to tliy sore discomfiture, thou found'st That England's suz'rainty was mine to give Or take from liim who wields it ? Was it weU To hold thyself so high above thy lord His meanest serfs looked down on him? And yet I do forgive thee, as I have pardoned all Li tliis my hour of peril. Well I know How holy are thy ways ; and yet at times Thy pride doth so o'ertop thy piety, 'Twoidd match the faidt by which the angels fell. If griefs like thine have failed to hiunble thee, 'Tis not from Prelates nor Lords Cardiuivl Thou'lt learn how beautifid is lo^vliness. I shoidd but anger thee by fiulher speech; Therefore, — for ever it may be, — I'arowell! \_K.vit Lord Stanley. Coiinf. Farewell? — oh, monstrous mockery! yet, fai'cwell ! (ii)d (>r my fatliers ! am I wed to one Who gcn's Id buUle for a nuuxlerei? [A'.c/V. Scene IV] THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. 397 Stan. Last night, Earl Eichmond lay encamped without The walls of Lichfield, whereunto the king Was marching with twelve thousand men-at-arms To give him battle. Scarcely thirty leagues May now divide them. Count. Ah ! so near ? My lord ! What numbers lead'st thou to the rendezvous ? Stan. By the last roU from Atherstone, five thou- sand. Count. And these, when joined to the usurper's host, Thou deem'st will render him invincible ? Stan. Armed with such kingly puissance, few can doubt it. Count. Yet victory sides not always with the strong. There is a God, to whom revenge belongs, Who battles for the cause of innocence. Stan. Thou saidst the same when princely Bucking- ham Upraised the standard of revolt. That day, Bright swords lept flashing round their chief: brave men Cheered for St. George and Lancaster. And yet The elements, without the aid of man, Wrecked hopes as high as thine. The mountain-rains, Concentred in an avalanche of floods. And leagued with the ungovernable winds. Wrenched the tail pine-tree from its giddy height, Aad, freighted by the homestead and the herd, Eoared down from wild Phnlimmon to the plain. Driving the Severn foaming to the sea. Then Panic took the lead of that pale host : Then fled. those scared battalions to their homes ; And that proud head that might have graced a crown, Whose lordly bearing mocked the painter's skill. Now festers upon Salisbury's battlements. Count. Invoking vengeance on his murderers. DD 3 402 THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act II. Despond not, lady ; peasants have their griefs As well iiH princes. P. I'jliz. Well, then, gentle one ! I would I were the daughter of a knight, An artless being, loving and beloved, As thou art, Anne ! but I shall never love, And none will ever love me. Anne. Say not so. Sweet Princess ! Peerless as thou art in grace And loveliness, that man were cold indeed Who would not hve and die for thee. P. EUz. Alas ! So cold is he who is my destiny. Dear girl ! I have a secret for thine ear, A maiden's secret, — I am free no more. Anve. What meanest thou ? P. Elh. In peril and in stealth Ehzabeth of York engaged her troth To one, Ixith young and valiant, but whose heart Is cold and loveless as an anchorite's. Anne. In peril and in stealth? — As soon, methiuks, I should expect the glorious stars to stoop, And mingle with the common fires of earth. As thou, the daughter of so haught a line, Descend to such mean wooing. P. Eli:. Nay ! thou WTongst me. My motlier, though a simple gentlewoman. Matched with a king, and, by my father's soul, I wiU not mate beneath lier ! lie I wed M\ist rank with sceptred monarohs, and in sight ( )[' men and saints espouse me. The quoou-boe Weds not on etirth, but, on her mi|itial morn, lAillowed ai'iir l\y her dun body-guard. Mounts willi her spouse to the blue heaven, and makes The sun ilseir lu'r bridal lamp. Ainw. And yet, VViiv lliiii; to one who'll loss it bark to thee Scene IV.] THE LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. 399 Stooped from her pride of ancestry to grace The coronation of the man she loathed, Nay ! bore Anne Neville's ermine in the show. Count, Ah ! — dar'st thou taunt me with that hour of shame? [_Rising.'] And have I wept, prayed, knelt to thee in vain ? Now ! by the spirit of great John of Gaunt, I would not brook this insolence from kings ! — When leav'st thou Skipton for the camp ? Stan. Ev'n now My vassals wait for me at Atherstone. Count. This is sheer subterfuge : I ask of thee When go'st thou forth to combat 'gainst my child ? Stan. To night ! Count. Then I shaU hve to see the day ■ When the chaste banner of thy race will flaunt Beside the ravished standard of St. George ! Stan. Margaret, thou wrong'st me ! As I hve, thou wrong'st me ! Count. Shame on thee, Lord of Lathom ! By thine acts. Not by thy words, I judge thee. [.Enter an Attendant.'] Att. Good my lord ! A breathless herald from tlie king entreats Immediate audience. Stan. Bid him wait ! anon He shall have speech with me. [Exit Attendant. Proud Margaret! I wield not woman's weapons, taunts and sneers ; Nor would I bandy bitter speech with thee. I fence with times when secresy is strength And silence empire. To my God alone I answer for my acts. Enough of this ! Much peril compasses a soldier's life, D D 4 404 THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act H. That played in rippling gold athwart the stream, Glided the noiseles.s fl(jwer-boat. More near, Before me in its slmdowy grandeur loomed The black funereal Abbey, in whose vaults Lay the once sceptred ashes of the kings Wlio were my ancestors. My thoughts, dear Anne, Were in their tombs with them, when, stealthily. One, muffled in a priest's habiUments, Yet with a soldier's aspect 'neath his cowl. Entered my ceU and knelt to me. Anne. Thou mean'st Sir Eeginald ? P. Eliz. I do : he came, he said. At his life's risk, to speak to me of things, Wliich, next my hopes of heaven, concerned my weal. And whereon himg the welfare of these realms. Therewith he spake of the State's sufTeiings, The miu'ders, rapines, spoliations, frauds, Tliat sprang from the unnatural dissents 'Twixt York and Lancaster. He then denounced The usurpation of my uncle, Gloucester ; But God and vengeance were at work, he said : A faithful band of nobles, statesmen, knights, Headed by one, young, comely, brave, discreet, Had sworn to raise me to my father's thi-one. Then spake he of thy cousm, Anne, as one Who from his boyhood had aspired to blend The rival l\ose.s in my bridal ^\Tcatll, To make a love-knot of our fathers' feuds. And, with tlie aid of God and his o^vn sword. To end for ever the unholy wars Our sires' ambition liad t'utailed on us. I wns so friendless, hopeless, spiritless. And he I ^yaVv with looked so true and land, I uhnost, lovi'd him for his mission's sake. Not thill he ur.m'il nie to too rash resolve; l''()r ])id(lini,' nic implore the grace of Heaven Scene I.] THE LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. 401 ACT II. SCENE 1. An Apartment in Skipton Castle. The Princess Elizabeth and Anne St. John. Anne. A heavy head-gear is a monarch's crown. P. Eliz. Yet, hghter than the miniver that furs The piuple of a queen, are the false love And the hp-loyalty men vow to her. Dear Anne ! I am the heiress to a throne, Yet rather than inherit that proud state I would I were a happy peasant-girl, Such as I've seen, with water-hhes crowned, Dancing and singing round the Maypole tree, Where flew my childhood in the summer-halls Of the great Edwards, my progenitors ! I too was happy then. Dear Sheen ! * ev'n now I see thy living landscape 'neath my feet Cahn as the sleep of infancy. The song Of nature's vocahsts ; — the blossomed thorns Eragrant with Nature's frankincense ; — afar. The cattle wading in the clear smooth stream And mirrored on its surface ; — the red glow Of sunset ; — the white smoke, and the old church Half hid by the rich fohage of the grove ; — These are thy charms, fair Sheen ! while, fairer still, Wiuding through bowery meads its silvery way. The river, wafting many a graceful bark, Ghdes bright and peaceful as a lovely dream, Eend'ring thy lawns a paradise. I would I were thy humblest denizen ! Anne. Nay, nay ! * Now Eichmond in Surrey. See note at the end of the Drama. 406 TUB LAST WAR OP THE ROSES. [Act II. Slew in his .slucp the gentlest, loveliest child That ever iminnuicHl the sw(;et name of sister ; Who, more than to his mother, clung to me; Wlio wept his last tear on my cheek, and when Tliey tore him from us, — ere the closing door For ever parted us, looked back on me Ilis last sad smile, as if to comfort me. Before he passed to heaven. Why ! ev'n the fiends Had shrunk from injuring such sinless babes. Lest the whole angel host should arm for them. An7ie. And thou didst tax the tyrant with his crimes ? P. Eliz. No, Axme! I dared not. — As the dove might feel In the hawk's talons, with the hawk's bright eye Fixed mercilessly on her, so I felt. And speech forsook me in my mortal dread. Anne. What passed then 'twixt thee and the caitiff- kiiig? P. Eliz. At first he spake in parables : but soon. By the quick passionate pleading of his voice, And an unholy lustre in his eyes, His true and terrible meaning flashed on me. He would have wound his arm, his withered arm. Around me ; but Heaven gave me speech and strength. And by a cry of desperate agony I brought my startled handmaids to my side. They saw not, — what I saw, — the glance of hate That changed as quickly to a doviUsh smile. Fair maids, he said, Avore easily unnerved ; A spider or a mouse had frightened me. And tluis, in seeming mirth, he \ven( liis way. Ainie. And has lie sought thee since ? P. /■:/!:. ' No! — all tlie saints OrTTcaNcii be praised! — he has not ; yet he writes As if our nuptials wiac ordained by fate. And my rcfusnl or ci-^uscnt were nauii'lit. Scene I.] THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. 403 A pearl so priceless as thy virgin love ? P. Eliz. The daughters of a sceptred line are born The children of their country, and must wed Not for their own but for their country's weal. Anne. Dear Princess ! without boldness may I crave His name whom thou hast hnked thy fortunes with? P. Eliz. What would'st thou say if 'twere thy cousin, Eichmond ? Anne. Henry of Eichmond ? — AU the Saints of heaven Preserve and shield ye both ! But has he pledged His troth to thee, as thou to him ? P. Eliz. He has : At Vannes, before the high altar, 'midst the band Of noble exiles who partook his fortunes. He swore by the true cross his troth to me. Anne. But thou, so sentinelled by curious eyes. How found'st thou means to pledge thine own ? P. Eliz. One night. As I was standing at the lattice bars Of my stone chamber in the Sanctuary At Westminster, and shedding bitter tears Por those who had shared with me, but shared no more. Its sohtude, there came upon my ear The distant chaunt of the retreating monks, Mellowed to such soft cadence as it streamed From vaulted transept and from fretted aisle, Ne'er angels guided with more soothing strains An infant's soul to heaven. A sweet calm Stole o'er my heart. The moon was on her throne. And all her coiu'tier stars were out that night, Silvering the palace of the Saxon Saint, The ivied porch and the steeled sentinel. And the broad Thames that flowed by them. AU heaven And earth were lulled, save, ever and anon. Crossing the mirrored glory of the moon 408 THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act U. Yet, maybe, I miMread him. Mark me, Trafford ! Tliis hiffh-boru lord, despite his pleasant speech And easy courtesy, hides iron nerves, And hatches deep conspiracies which yet May shake King Eichard's sov'reignty ; nay, more, So wary and astute his nature is, I doubt if he'd intrust, in these wild times, His thoughts to his own shadow. Watch him well ! Watch him, I say, and watch more closely still The lady Margaret ! Thou dost not think She shares the secrets of her lord ? Traf. Egad ! She gleans as httle of her lord's intents As knows an unborn infant of its sire's. But, tell me! — you received my last despatch Toucliing my lady's treason ? Brak. Yes, my friend. And laid it, as you wished, before the king. Tnif. 'Tis evidence no more ? — 'tis burnt — destroyed r JJnik. Undoubtedly. 7)-af. Thou swcar'st it is ? Brak. I swear it. Traf. 'Tis well ; now tell me fui'ther ! — does the king Ere deign to speak of my poor services ? Brak. It was but yesterday he mentioned thee, And pleasantly enough withal. Traf. What said he? Brak. He said, forsooth, thou wert a cle\er rogue. And in good time he would ro\vard thy zeal. Traf. A rogue ? — he called me rogue r — damnation, man I What meant he ? Jjrak. Sun'ly, if thou play's! the spy. And luru'st informer "gainst (lie princely dame Wlio reared thee, roofs thee, loves to see thee decked in jxirplc iiiul line linen, "(were in jest Wert' men to dub thee honest. Scene I.] THE LAST WAE OF THE EOSES. 405 He left me to my solitude. That night I prayed and sobbed myself to sleep, and when The morning sunbeams cheered my prison-room, There was such sweet consolement in my thoughts Thou scarce wilt marvel when I tell thee, Anne, That, when my brave ambassador returned, I signed my sceptre and myself away. Anne. Lady ! a heavy stake forsooth thou hast Depending on the hazard of these times. P. Eliz. Far heavier than thou reckest of There's one Who seeks to work me such a cruel wrong, That, should the blessed saints abandon me, I am lost indeed. Anne. Whom speak'st thou of? P. Eliz. The king. Anne. The king ? P. Eliz. Hush ! hush ! these very walls have ears, And maidens' secrets should be sacred things. Yet hst to me ! This most incestuous king, Despite aux close affinity of blood. Would wed with me ; — ay ! sweetheart, wed with me, — - His own most wretched niece, in hopes to found A dynasty as foul as Lucifer's. Anne. The saints preserve thee ! 'twere too terrible. But has he breathed to thee his dire intent ? P. Eliz. The tomb had scarcely claimed the broken heart Of my poor cousin, his most gentle queen, When in his mourning weeds, which were a shame And mockery of his widowhood, he sought me Here in this very chamber. At his beck My trembhng handmaids left me, and I stood Facing my brothers' murderer, — him who kiUed Poor Edward for his envied diadem, And, not contented with one innocent hfe, 410 THE LAST WAR OP THE HOSES. [Act II. It SO afflicts me that I wrung thy heart, Tliat, wert tliou still uixm this eaith, mcthinks I'd tread tliis silke'u finery in the dust, Hurl back uj^jon the wdrld the world's contempt. And, rich in thy affection, share thy home, And eat with thee the bread of bitternes.s. Clif. [Within.'] Trafford ! — what ho there ! Traf. [Aside.'] Curves on that voice ! And yet, slight fool, I thank thee ! thou hast roused Thy rival from a maudlin reverie That might have changed his destiny. Fool, fool ! Shall I recant, repent me, and become A driv'ling penitent, confess to priests And number aves upon beads ? Nay, more ! Shall Martin Trafford let the man he loathes Wed with the maid he dotes on ? Hell itself Has no worse torment than that thought ! By Heaven ! If hate, ambition, love, or subtlety. E'er won a woman 'gainst her will, I'll Avin her Thougli aU the fiends opposed me. Men may thwart, ]\Iay crush — but they shall fail to ^\-^ing from me This passion and fixed purpose of my fife. Clif. {Within^] Trafford! — what" ho there ! Traf. [Aside^ Every curse attend Upon thy noisy clamouring ! [Aloud.] What ho thei-e! — What ho! — dear friend; I've sought thee everywhere. [Exit. SCENE III. Apartment in Skipton Castle. Connh'.is ()/'Eu'HMOND and AxxK St. John. (^>inif. Poiir .\iine, howclianged thou hast seemed of late I 'lis true. We idl liave cause for sadness, but thou'rt young, And youtli should suiilo on sorrow. Can it bo Scene II.] THE LAST WAK OF THE EOSES. 407 But let US hence I the thought of this grim. Idng Congeals my very Life-blood ; and withal The lady Margaret waits for us ; come, Anne ! \_Exeunt. SCENE II. A Grove near Sldpton Castle. Enter Sir Eobeet Beakbnbukt and Traffoed. BraL Trafford, well met ! Traf. Thou hast just left my lord ? Brak. I have. Traf, What answer sends he to the king ? BraL It sounded smoothly ; " Tell his Grace," he said, " I am so beholden to my rightful liege, rU head my vassals ere he breaks liis fast." Traf. Lurked there no cozenage, think'st thou, in his words ? Which liege designed he ? — Eichmond or the King ? Brak. Eichmond, perchance, but he'll be staunch enough. Traf. Why think'st thou so ? Brak. Because the King has seized The being whom he loves the most on earth. His young, fair boy. Lord Strange ; and should thy lord Swerve one iota from his loyalty. The King will hang his darling, as he'd hang A yelping cur that broke his midnight slumber. Traf. Knows my lord this ? Brak. Yes, by the King's command I've warned him of the peril ; 'twas for this I journeyed here. Traf. How bore he the hard threat ? Brak. Methought I marked a quivering of the hp, And a convulsive clenching of his hand ; 412 THE LAST WAE OP THE ROSES. [Act I. Traf. I know My fVic'iul's devotion to your grace ; yet love May steal a inarch on duty. Counf. Speak more plain, And tell me what thou hhilest at. Traf. Unless The village gossips wrong him, he's enslaved By Bartram's pretty daughter, and her tears May ev'n outweigh his duty to your Grace. [Ax.\E ftart^. Count. \_^Uide to Annc^ Nay, Anne, beheve it not ! I no more doubt His loyalty in love, sweet, than thine own. \To Trajfonl.'] We'U not detain thee, Trafford ; thou hast rid Both far and fast, and must need food and quiet. \_E.cit Trafford. Anne. Dear Aunt ! Count. Well, Anne ? Anne. He will be here anon. Count. Wlio, dearest? Anne. Clifford ; — prythee tax liim not With chilled or changed affections. I am satl, Most sad, yet not for worlds I'd have him think Thou wert my intercessor for his love : Promise thou wilt not. Count. Well, I promise thee. But, see — he comes ! Enter Clifford. CUf. [_Amie.'\ How pale and sad slie looks ! What can have changed her thus ? Aniw. Pear aunt, I'll leave thee; l)()ul)lless lliou hast much (o say to blaster Henry, Were best iuijia.rled to his private ear. Clij'. If \ intrude on thee, forgive me, lady ! [E,rH Anne. ScBNB II.] THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. 409 Traf. \_Aside.'] He speaks true : I am a rogue, yet was not always one, — At least not quite a villain, till I nursed This fatal passion. [_Aloud.'\ Hear me, Brakenbury ! Most men have wherewithal to win them brides ; At worst they have honest parentage ; but I, — Because no shaveling joined my mother's hand With his who foully wronged her, am a mark For my proud kinsmen, my own flesh and blood, To curl their lips and shrug their shoulders at. But, by St. Paul, I will be quits with them ! The time may come, beheve me, Brakenbury ! When the spurned base-born castaway shall win The daintiest daughter of their line. That day, I'll brand a bar on their escutcheonry, That shall repay them back my mother's wrongs. The whilst I glut my love and my revenge. Meanwhile, I bide my time ! [Enter Lord Stanley unperceived.'] Stan. [Aside.'] He bides his time I What means the varlet ? But, whate'er his gist, I must not play the eavesdropper. [Exit Stanley. Brak. Methinks, Thou art a bold conspirator to stake Thine all against such odds ; yet, as I live, Thy stars look fair to back thee. But farewell ! I've a long ride before me, and the king Frowns somewhat grimly, when his servants loiter. [Exit Brakenbury. Traf. My mother ! — hadst thou lived, thou might'st have weaned Thy son from a dark lot. When I recaU. Thy soft blu^ eyes, and the big tears they shed Over my graceless boyhood, there are times e e 414 THE LAST WAR OP THE EOSBS, [Act II, SCENE IV. All, Apartment in Skipton Castle. Trafford and AxxE St. Joh.v. Traf. I fear my words have angered thee .'' y\i/iie. Nay, nay! I s()uij;ht to learn the worst. If I let fall Some foolish tears, impute them not to aught But maiden pride, since one I favoured so Could fling me from him like a flower A\'hose bloom Eude hands have left to perish. But I feel Quite cheerful now, — quite cheerful. l^raf. Nay ! by Heaven, Thou weepest still I and with thine eloquent grief Blends a persuasive loveUness might rouse Armed lK)sts to win a world for tliee. Eight well I know my friend, and strange indeed it were If he should still prefer a village-Avench To thee, the high-born and the beautiful. BeUeve me I — when I tell him of these tears Ile'U not be long a truant from thy side. Anne. Nay ! Martin Trafibrd, tell him not I wept ! I do implore thee, tell him not I wept ! Think'st thou I'm sunk so low as to have grown The object of his pity? Dost thou deem That, hke his hawk, I can be -whistled back Whene'er it ])lenses him? Oh! Martin Traflbrd. He nuist have < liangeil indeed since thou, his friend, C'linst j)lead no better hi thy friend's defence. 7^11/'. Yet still thou lov'st him ? . I line. 1 ,ove him ? — oh, no no ! Approached he now, and, kneeling at my feet, rrcsenled me a quei'uly diadeiu, I'd spurn the glideiing bauble, and still more The pcijured liearl thai jirollered il. r)ut fain Vi\ learn who LoKI lliee I relumed liis love. Scene HI.] ' THE LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. 411 Thy shepherd-lover has proved false? Nay, sweetheart! Blush not ; nor look so gravely; if he has, m never more believe there's truth in man. Anne. Oh, name him not, dear lady ! If I blushed, 'Twas that I ever loved him. Count. And thou still Dost love him, Anne ; for mere indifference Ne'er wore so wan an aspect. Anne. Nay, believe me ! He is no more to me than Martin Trafford, Or any other gallant thou might'st name. Enter Teafford, unperceived. Traf. \_Aside^ No more to her than Martin Trafford, said she ? Yet Martin Trafford may prove more to thee Than thou suspectest, proud one. [Comes forward.'] Noble lady ! I bear this packet from Sir Launcelot, Who sends with it his reverent love and duty. Count. How fares. the brave old knight? Traf. Eight well in health ; And fain, but for his years, would break once more A lance in cause of Lancaster. Count. How fare, too. My humble friends, good Bartram and his wife, And Master Henry ? Traf. They are stout and well. As for my friend, he wUl be here anon ; At least he said he would, to prove his zeal By offering his poor service to your grace. Count. He said he would? what mean'st thou? WeU I know Not ev'n thyself, much as thou lov'st me, Trafford, Would speed more promptly to my aid. E E 2 416 THE LAST WAE OF THE ROSES. [Act II. [Trumpet sounds.'] That blast Summons to judgment, — it may be, to death, — The saintly dame who reared us both. Ere mom. Thou may'st be homeless, portionless : thy friends Arraigned, — attainted ; — in thine hour of need, Wlien towers the headsman and when gleams the axe, Whom wilt thou have to trust to ? Trust in me ! I have a heart to dare, a hand to strike ; I have friends at Richard's court ; oh, trast in me ! Oh ! bid me be thy champion, guardian, friend, And I will ^^'in for thee a brighter name Than that my rival scorns to share with thee ! Nay! lady, frown not ! for ne'er devotee Knelt to a virgin-saint with lowHer zeal Than now I kneel to thee, thou peerless one ! On whose dear accents hangs my future fate For evil or for good. [Kneels.'] Auiw. Unhand me, sir ! — Traf. Nay, hear me ! — Aiiue. Else, sir, instantly ! what mean Tliesc empty ravings ? — Thou presum'st too far Upon my easy nature, Master TrafTord, Traf. Ravings ! — If gazing upon eyes more bright Than those the angels sinned for, — if the sound Of accents sweeter than the vows they poured To earth's enamoured daughters, could provoke Man's soul to frenzy, then, indeed, I rave ; I can no longer quell this burning flame. Nor govern thoughts that are ungovernable. [/i'/V,'\ (///(/ approach's her. Anne. Stand off! — I do conunand thee. Master TrafTord ! Thou tlost forget my stntion and tlune own. \Vtates that ye are! 1 charge ye ! — that, anon Kinu' Kdward's t'liends Scene V.] THE LAST "WAR OP THE EOSES. 417 Then will I win, and sacrifice to hate, If not her love, yet her who scorns me so. But I must keep this folly from her Grace. [Aloud.'] Lady ! 'tis true ; — I've sinned, — I am mad indeed ; Yet, deem it my misfortune, not my crime, That I so loved thee, and so boldly spake That which I felt so wildly. Pity me ! And, oh ! forgive him who was once thy friend. Albeit an humble one, and one who ne'er By word or deed provoked thee till this hour. Anne. Ev'n as thou actest Avill I act by thee ; But, at thy peril, let me hear no more Of this presumptuous courtship ! [Exit. Traf. StiU I'll win her ! By all the saints, I'U win her ! By my means Lord Stanley crushed, — her kindred in the Tower ; rU to the King, who owns I've served him well. And claim this proud one's hand as my reward. 'Twere hard indeed if he refuse the boon. [Exit. SCENE V. The great hall in Skipton Castle. Flourish of Trumpets. Enter Cardinal Bouechier, iorc? Stanley, and other Lords ; a Serjeant at Arms, Scribes, Attendants, Crier, ^c. The Cardinal and the Lords take their seats on raised chairs on the dais. Card. Call into court, in the king's name, her grace Dame Margaret of Lancaster, late styled Countess of Eichmond ! Crier. Come into the court Dame Margaret of Lancaster ! late styled Countess of Eichmond ! 422 THE LAST WAR OP THE EOSES. [Act It Tor the dear-bought protection of thy sword ? Save that my blood was royal as Jiis own, rerchauce King Edward, at .some Paphian feast, Had flung me to a rake-hell, fool, or fop ; And therefore was I fain to wed with thee ; For when Lord Stanley took the hand I gave, At least, methought, I pledged my troth to one Wlio had some lespect for honour and his God. Yield at my beck I nay ! but thou dicbt at hers The crafty NeviUes planted in thy path. When Warwick staked his sister's sickly charms, The lord of Lathom fell an easy prey. Stan. Now ! — by our cold unconsummated loves ! By the imnatm-al vow wliich thou didst take That banished me for ever from thy bed, I brand thy language as most scandalous ! Woman ! — thou railest at the dead ! Away ! Slie whom thou tauntest is a saint in heaven. Count. My taunt was at the hving, not the dead. FareweU, my lords ! I leave ye in the hope Eeflcction may improve your comtesy, And prayer remove the hardness of your hearts. [E.rit. Card. Break up the court 1 Should this imperious dame Provoke her death-doom by her treasonous words. Her blood be on her head and not on om-s. [The Court rises. The Cardin/il takes the hand of the Princess Eliz.vbeth, whom he leads from the hall. Card. [Aside to P. Eli:.'] Maiden, om- ohurUsh kins- woman, I wecu, Would slir thee to mislike of (lie king's suit ? ]\ FAiz. Mislike, my lord ? — thou wrouiif'st her ! — ore she named His iinme to me, I loalhod him. Citrd. Ah ! — what say'st thou ? — /'. lAiz. 'V\\\\\. rather would I the envenomed snake Scene V.] THE LAST WAE OF THE ROSES. 419 As plighted to this peerless maid of York, Whose solemn troth he holds, as she holds his, Would I encircle with the diadem : Thus would I blend the Eed Eose with the Wliite ; Thus end these ruthless and inhuman feuds ; Give peace to the distracted commonwealth ; Spread learning and rehgion through these isles, And earn the blessings of a grateful realm. Is this ambition, my Lord Cardinal ? Card. Madam ! we came to sentence, not to try thee. Wherefore, my lords ! resolving how her heart Is numbed by arrogance and obduracy. Proceed we to our sentence ! Margaret Beaufort ! Thy peers have found thee guilty of misdeeds Whose penalty is death. 'Tis shown, by proofs As clear as gospel-truths, that privily Thou hast conspired against the State ; suborned The king's hege subjects ; sent beyond the seas Moneys and writings to thine outcast son. Falsely and impiously provoking him To wage rebellious war against thy liege. His peace and sov'reignty. For these high crimes The law deprives thee of thy dignities, Thy titles, rank, endowments. Thy domains, — Thy castles, fiefs, and seigniories, — the king Cedes, for his Ufe-time, to thy lord ; withal At his demise to lapse to the king's grace And the king's heirs for ever. For thy hfe, — • Thy forfeit life, — ^in deference to thy near, Though tainted, kinship to his royal house. And as a guerdon for the services Thy lord has rendered to the State, his highness Doth mercifully spare it. Count. Namest thou Gloucester and mercy in one breath, my lord ? Great Heaven ! what mercy owe I to your liege ? 424 THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act III. Which, veiling his intents from either side, Makes both liis wistful suppHants. Count. Alas I Fool that I've been in my presumptuous pride Of book-lore, such as dreaming pedants vaunt. To hold myself a match for one so versed In the world's craft and knaveries ! Great Heaven ! Have mercy on a mother's agony ! Bray. Lady ! by years of penance, tears, and prayer, Thou hast steeled thy soul with fortitude ; yet still I have that to say which may o'er-agitate A heart too racked already. Coimt. Ah ! my son ? — Bray. Is safe, and fondly greets thee. Count. Heaven be praised ! — Against all other griefs I'm adamant. Say on ! Bray. What soldier, on a battle-eve, But feels unbidden memories gush forth Of home, and home's pure ties ; and the SAveet smile Of some loved mother, sister, wife, or child, Wliose lips have prayed, whose tears have flowed for him ? Such holy thoughts send yearnings to the heai't, And moisture to the eyes. So yearns my lord, Who, ere he arms him for the fight, would fiuu Keceive a mother's blessing at thy feet. And weep a son's farewell witliiu thine arms. Count. I guess thy meaning ; he'll be here anon ? Is it not so ? Bray. It is. CoiDit. Yet how evade Our watchful wnrdiTs ? ^vill lie peril all For one sad interview? JJniif. Nay, feivr not, lady ! liord Stanley is a generous foe, ■who spurns Domestic spii's, and 'gainst all other risks Scene v.] THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. 421 And minions of his splendour, — in the hour When stood the death-dew on his stately brow, Before the lifted crucifix ye swore To guard his orphans and his realm from wrong ! Brave Hastings took witli ye, and kept that oath. And thereby fell the axe upon the neck Of the most gallant, finished gentleman That e'er was idolized in court or camp. I3ut ye! — how high in power and place ye are ! Thou, Thomas Bourchier ! art Lord Cardinal ; Thou, Thomas Stanley ! Steward of the Household, Knight of the Garter and High Constable ; No niggard recompense, I trow, my lords, For treason to the Uving and the dead. Oh ! shame on ye, false lords ! foul shame on ye ! To succour beauty in distress, to dry The tears of weeping innocence, methought The pleasing office of our holy church ; The glory of our Norman chivalry ; But ye 1 — unknightly as ye are, would wed To infamy and incest the fair maid Whose sire showered rank and wealth on ye ; — would deck The shuddering victim for the nuptial couch, And lay her by her brothers' murderer ! Why 1 — my lord Cardinal ! the vilest wretch Who panders for the passions of your sex. And thrives upon the frailty of her own. Foul as her commerce is, would scorn a wrong So loathsome and so cruel ! Stan. Margaret ! Thy words are hbels on the church, no less Than treason to the king. Conceivest thou We'll yield our judgment at thy woman's beck ? Count. Yield at my beck ! And what am I to thee But the unloved, unsociable dame Thou weddedst for her lands, as I chose thee ■I'JCi TIIH l-AHT WAli III' TIIK liOSICH. f A.r III, N(ir wiiH it ('(luiilcilrllcd iciKlcnicHM, Nor IcssdiiH I'loiii (Icsiiniin;!; kiiiHiiK'ii Iriiiiicil, Wliicli K"^'' f^'"''' f'wcci, iicrHiiiiHioii l() lliy lipH ; Hill, Invc i'nv l.liy ;nvnl hnilJu'i', mid tliy wl'.li To lilciid my lol wllh liin, iih IiIh willi iiiiiic; "rwiiH iJiin cikIiumI willi wili'licry lliy words, And iiiiidii iiif wciikiT lliiiii I iiiif'lil liiivc Imth. I ll'rilrM. So ends my Icllcr lo llii' kiiif^I — Aliw! TliiH (ioiii)l(! donlinij;, l.liiH iij) loynlly, All' wormwood l,o nil lioiioiiiiililr mind. W()iily, honoiuable. Ciiujit. Nay! let us speak of tinv, dear sou! thou seem'st Ofgijiver a.spect and of slighter frame SoiSNiii II.] THIS LAST WAR OF THE HOSES. 427 Stan. How canst thou doubt it, Sir ? Traf. Alas, my lord ! Tow'rds such a precipice now Bpecds her Grace, llur zeal lor tlie l(JHt cause of Lancaster Again, I I'car', lias lured her into plots Which, if untangled by unrriendly hands, May send her to tlie scaffold. 8tan. As a spy P Or as a traitor, sirrah I art thou here With Buc.li Hiispicious prooi' of thy regard? Traf. J^y Heaven ! as neither. — To thy face, my lord, I tell thee I tlioiigh it banish me thy halls. That had my (;qual, or my foe, thus spoke. Either my life-blood ,should have stained his sword. Or, by St. Piad I that taunt had been his last. Stan. \_jUideP\ Beshrew tlie swaggering upstart I — yet pcrchaMci; I've wrong('(l him. Traf. Uiid I sto()])ed to perpetrate The ci'iid ill which thou imput'st to me, Long since thy mansions had been desolate ; But I \va,s silcut lor my lady's sake Till silencer grew a crime, h'rom my fii'st youth I have eat Ihy l)i'('ad, and wai'incd me at thy hearth ; I ask lliec, then ! — if chance disclosed to me A traitor prowling in tliinc inmost halls, How would'st thou rate my gratitude, my lord, Kept I the treason secret? Sta.)i. Tn these days Men h'ule their th)ie : — so runs tlie plirase, methinks : For 'tis not of my coining. If thou a:rt honest I pray thee, bear with me ! If false, forsooth Thou dost but ajx; thy bcltcis. [A.^ii/e.] Now, confoimd him I Ho hears my gaze right calmly. Traf Well, my lord ! 432 TUB LAST WAR OF TUB ROSES. [Act UT. Coiuit. Heavenly Father ! Bless Thou, oh, bless my cliild ! In the dread hour When fall the mighty, and when each man's sword Is raised ajraiiist his enemy, be Thou The champion of my loved one ! Grant him faith, Strength, valour ! and, if not in vain I have drained The cup of anguish to the dregs, — .if aught I have found of favour in Thy sight, by years, — Long years, — of fastings, scourgings, tears, and prayers, Then be Thou gracious to thine handmaiden. And send him back unscathed unto these arms ! Now am I calmer, Henry : fare thee well I — Yet, stay awhile ; — gi\e me thy hands ! — \_She joins them in the attitude of prayer. There, there I — Again thou lookest hke the meek, fair child. Who lispL'd his earliest pray'r to me. Pray thus Wlieu last thou prayest on the battle-eve! It will remind tliee of a mother's love, — rercliinu'e her last sad words to thee. But hark! — What noise was that? — Awaj' ! — quick, quick! — Away!- Strange steps ascend the stabs. \_Conceak him. Enter Sir Eeginald Brat. J]nii/. [^IIurricdh/.'\ Compose thyself! My lord approaches. lEdit Brat. Enter Lord Staxlet. Shin. ]\Targarot ! what mean Tliy pallid aspect and tliy tollering limbs? >^li;ill I reply for thee? A\'ithiu these halls, — Ay I in this very eluunber, lies concealed A H'bel to the king. In {\\v kind's name Scene III.] THE LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. 429 Of the old church, and should knave, sqmre, or knight, Unknown to thee by name, essay to pass, Arrest him ! — without force, if possible, And with all courtesy. The fewer words Ye interchange the better : bring him here Quickly and silently. [Exit CasteUain.] I have here, methinks, A plan of the old pile, its dungeons, vaults. Its hiding-cells and secret passages. [I'akes a plan from an escritoire and examines it. Here is the Eagle Tower, — and here the court Beneath me, with its immemorial yew Coeval with the Conqueror. Ah ! — what's this That, from the Baron's chamber to the church. Winds round from tower to tower ? Ha ! ha ! I have them. Now to confront the plotters ! — my good sword ! [Takes it up. Nay it were best I should go weaponless. [Lays down his sword and exit. SCENE III. Apartments in Skipton Castle. The Earl of Eichmond and the Countess of Eichmond ; the Earl entering from a concealed passage and glancing cautiously round him. Count. [Embracing him.'] Oh ! blessed moment, to embrace thee thus, So loved, and lost so long ! Thou little knowest How I have missed thee through the long dull years That came and went, and yet thou camest not. And thou hast sometimes thought of me, dear son ? I know thou hast. The world and the world's ways Are rocks on wliich youth's best affections split, r F "3 434 THE LAST WAR OF TIIE ROSES. [Act III. That, had we mated in less selfish times, And when our liearts were younger, we had known And loved each other better. Need I say I fain would part with thee, as thou with me, In Christian Idndness ? Fare thee well ! — Perchance, To-morrow's fight may be my lii-^t : if so, 1 would that sometimes thou should'st think of this. Our first, — oiu: last endearment. [^Ivisses her.'] Fare thee well ! To those, who love as thou dost, well I know How dreadful is suspense, and therefore, Margaret, I'd fain, but must not now, impart to thee Much that thou yearn'st to loiow ; yet this, at least, I say, to cheer thee when thou'rt oversad, — Margaret, / Inde my time : — Once more, farewell ! L'ount. Farewell ! and all the aueel host protect thee ! [Exit. Stan. Now ! to confront my stepson and my foe ! Poor Edmund Tudor ! for thy sake, my friend, I fain would save thy son. {Knocks three times.) Enter the Earl of EICHM0^^). liich. Ah ! — who art tliou Wlio stoopest to entrap a friendless man ? Stan. For me ! — I am the master of these halls, Thomas Lord Stanley. I would fain eschew Vain recognitions in these perilous times. Else with more riglit I miglit demand of tliee. Who art thou, who, hke a midnight thief, hast crept Into my inmost clianibers ; but onougli I I came not here fo bandy angry words. And must conunand like self-conlrol from tlioe. /.'/VA. Command? — whalmoan'st thou by that haughty word ? Stini. To-day 'tis mine, — it may be youi's to- morrow, — Scene III.] THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. 431 Than in my dreams I have pictured thee. Thou too Hast draiaed the cup of sorrow ? Rich. And long years Have changed thee also, mother miue. Count. Fay, Henry ! I am not so old, — so very old. That day, When on thy coffined father's face I gazed My last, and quailed to find myself alone In the vast halls which were my heritage, I had seen but fifteen summers. Fourteen more They left thee with me, and then fourteen more I spent in pray'r and penance for this hour. Rich. And Heaven has heard thy pray'rs. Count. It hath, my son ; Yet would that thou wert stiU the joyous child That played and prattled round me in our own Old home at happy Pembroke. Rich. Would I were. So thou wert with me ! I was then as free And fearless as the eaglets, that I watched "Wending their flight above our battlements ; Soaring hke man's high hopes, to melt, like them, First into specks, then into nothingness. Count. Nay ! speak not thus despondingly ! Ambition, That aims no higher than base selfish ends, Such as dominion, wealth, vain-glory, pomp, Is worse than nothingness. But when its proud Aad glorious object is to mitigate The amount of human misery, and exalt Freedom and virtue over chaias and crime, 'Tis then the noblest enterprise for which Heaven ever armed its champions. But time speeds. Rich. It does ; and ere we part, as part we must, I'd fain, my mother, on my knees receive Thy farewell blessing [kneels]. With thy holy prayers. And Heaven to guide me, I may die the death, But shall not dread the despot. r r 4 43C THE LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. [Act HI. Transplant our Kccrc;t8 to each other's breasts ? Stim. Not yet : innv list to me ! To-morrow night Meet me at Atlierstone ; thou .sce'st this ring ; Fear notto trust him who wiU bring it thee ; He will contrive our meeting. ll/ch. Wliy not now Explain thy purpose ? Stan. Nay, it cannot be. Farewell! — yet stay! — thou must not quit tliese halls The way thou earnest. TeU my lady-Avife The garden-wicket by the Eagle Tower Shall be unlocked ; she will devise the rest. Her acliing heart, I fear, but ill endures This long suspense ; once more, then, fare thee well! liich. Farewell, mitU Ave meet at Atherstone ! \_E,ceunt. SCENE IV. The Garden below Skipton Castle. Traffoed, solus. Traf. I'd stake my hopes of knighthood to resolve The name of this same gallant who has made My lady's eyes so moist, and stirred my lord To play the rebel, — a false move for which I thank him, as King Eichard will thank me Wlien I report the perfidy. At dusk I meet the stranger by the Eagle Tower. And guide him to the river, where, no doubt, My crafty fritsnd, Sir Kegiuald, has secured Fresh horses for their midnight ride. Suppose, then, 'his giiUant and tlie rebel-earl are one ? — I'is scarcely credible, and yet, pei'chance, rwili so betide; — what Humi? — He needs must thi'cad 'lu' cliniiilicr of the Lady .Viiue, iVmn whence The steps descend upon the lerrace-walk ; Scene m.] THE LAST WAS. OF THE ROSES. 433 Thy lord demands tlie traitor. Count. Would'st thou turn Tliy wife's accuser ? For myself ! I aare not : _^i.est! — arraign me ! — drag me, if thOu wilt, To durance and to death ! But, oh, my lord ! — Spare him, I pray thee, who ne'er injured thee ! Oh ! spare him, for the Lord of Mercy's sake ! Stan. Margaret! — whoe'er he be thou harbourest, I must confront him : if ahve, 'twere well ; If not, his blood be on thy head. Now, mark me ! — The secret outlet from the church, — nay, start not ! — Is guarded by armed men. Should he attempt To pass them, he may fight his way to heaven, But here on earth there is shght hope for him. Count. Lord Stanley ! — Stan. N^-y? bethink thee, Margaret ! How soon the handspikes of my armourers Would solve the secret of your hiding-place. Name, then, the signal which will summon him, — Then leave me ! — and, by Heaven ! I swear to thee He shall go forth unscathed ! If strife there be Between us, I'm in danger of his sword. Not he of mine : you see, I am weaponless. Count. My kind, my generous lord ! right sure I am Thou would'st not cozen me with treacherous oaths ; Wherefore I trust thee, as I trust in Heaven. Knock thrice ! — and one will answer to thy beck. Whom, of aU hving men, I had wished thy friend ; But fate ordains it otherwise. Farewell ! — Farewell, my lord ! — And yet, before we part, I fain would hear one gentle word from thee. That said — we part in kindness. If, of late, I have been waspish and rude-speeched to thee, I beg of thee to pardon me. Stan. Most freely ; We all have need of pardon. Margaret ! — My noble Margaret ! — At times I have felt 438 THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act III. Ilor ailment is not mortal. One word more ; — Tliis morn, when thou departedst from her Grace, Was tliLTii a gallant with her ? — one of fair And winnhig presence ? Clif. Thei-e was none with her Except Sir Eeginuld ; who should there be P Traf. Except Sir Reginald P Clif. Why echoest thou My simple words ? Had peer or knight arrived. The sentry's challenge and the warder's horn Had heralded his coming. My Lord Stanley Has left no guests at Skipton. Whence then .sprang This phantom visitor ? Traf. It matters not : Enough ! — I have earthed the intruder. Clif. And he's here Without her Grace's ken, — or canst thou mean She harbom'S him unworthily ? Traf. ^iij'' ufiy ■' Had I presumed to hint a dame so grave, So holy, so decorous, ripe in years, Could entertain a secret paramour, Fool were too fair a name for me. Believe me ! There's daintier game at Skipton. Canst thou name No loveher, likelier lady ? Clif Martin Trafibrd ! Thou dar'st not mean the Lady ^Vnne ! By Heaven ! Had other than my friend ev'u looked that hint I had called him liar in his teeth. Trnf I sought To root a hopeless passion from thy breast. And lliou rctortest witli insulting words. Is this a friend's ilt treatment of a friend? Till thou'rt thyself again I'll leave thee. [Going. Clif ' ' Stay! I pray thee, slay I I know thou meanest well, Altliough thou spi>aki'st tortures. Scene III.] THE LAST WAE OF THE ROSES. 435 To use the language of authority ; Wherefore I said command. Bethink thee, sir ! The shghtest word or sign of mine would fill This chamber with armed men. The dungeon keep Is not far off, and, if aright I guess Thy name. King Eichard were well satisfied To pay in golden angels for thy head. Thou hast forgotten I'm High Constable, Sworn counsellor and liegeman to the King. Rich. If thou provok'st me more, I may forget I am thy prisoner. Stan. Nay ! speak less loud. My faithful castellain is well apprized That Skipton harbours an unbidden guest ; And as his only fault is over-zeal, 'Twere just as well he overhear thee not. Rich. I know, my lord, my life is in thy hands ; Then either do thy worst, or cease to taunt A baffled foe. Stan. Go to ! — I did but seek To try thy spirit. Wise men, ere they stake Their fives and fortunes in another's cause. Would fain essay the mettle of their friends ; And therefore, seeing that the penalty Of harb'ring the King's enemies is death, Thou must not murmur if I sought to test Thy spirit, ere I risked my head for thee. Rich. My lord ! I cannot blame thee : if my words Have angered thee, I pray thee pardon them. Stan. Nay ! I'm not angry ; thou art much too like A loved companion whom I lost in youth. That I should long be wroth with thee. Rich. My lord ! Thy words are words of kindness ; then what need Of this ambiguous language ? Were it not Far better to discard misgiving thoughts. And, trusting to each other's knightly faith, 4W THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act III. Amidst the trophies which their valour won. Yo great and glorious men of a past age I How am 1 Ihlleii from your high estate ! Not one of you but rode to i'urae or death, Followed by squires and knights, and loyal bands Of steeled and plumed retainers ; yet your heir Eides forth alone and bannerless. Alas ! ]\Iy vassals know me not ; my \'ery name Passed from me with my childhood : ev'n the dogs, Wliose fathers fawned on and were fed by mine, Snarl at their vagrant chief. But ye ! ye lords Of a lost heritage ! why look ye down, So fierce and so reproachful, on the last Of your long ancestry ? is mine the fault If on the bloody battle-field ye sleep Sliroudless and tombless ? Ye at least achieved The fame of heroes, — happier in yovu' deaths Than I, your hving offspring. When ye died, Fair cheeks were blanched, and brave and faithful heai'ts Mourned for their warrior-lords ; but if / fall. No eye will shed one tear for me. Y"et, Anne ! IIoAV often, when I've pictured the sad hour That fate might tear me from thee, have I deemed A parting tear might faU upon my breast Dropped from thine angel-eyes, and, if I fell. That thou would'st mourn me as my sires were mourned ! But I lunnan myself; enough of this ! No wonder that yon bearded chiefs look down With stern dis[)leasure on their recreant heir. Enter AxNK St. Joux. 'I'Ik' jAu]y Anne? — [_To Aiuic.'] My presence here, I fear. May savour of intrnsiveni'ss, and yet ]5elievc me, T;aily ! accident alone Has thrown my vmwelconie shadow 'cross thy path. Scene IV.] THE LAST WAR OP THE EOSES. 437 "WTiat then, again ? — he's near allied to her ; Therefore, in common courtesy, must bide To greet his gentle cousin. 'Twas well thought of, And promises more mischief than I've hatched Since Sunday se'nnight ; but, behold ! here comes My love-sick rival. Enter Cliffoed. "Welcome, Master Henry ! How fares it with thee ? Sorely grieved I am To see thee so downhearted. Hast thou met The Lady Anne since thy arrival here. For she alone, I ween, could move thee thus ? Clif. Trafford ! I have ; and with such scornfulness She greeted me, my soul is wrung with anguish, Traf. Then stiU thou fanciest, — nay, start not, man. Before my words have left my hps ! — that love Has played thee false, and cursed thee with a rival ? Clif. Trafford ! I never thought so, till thyself Surmised the damned doubt. Traf, Then there is none Whom thou suspectest ? Clif. None, by Heaven! — Dost thou Presume to doubt her ? Traf. Nay, nay ! 'tis her scorn Has jaundiced thy perception. Clif. Why then look A language which behes thy words ? Traf. Hast heard That, pleading sudden ailment as the cause. The Lady Anne has kept her bower since noon ? Clif. I have : — I learned it from her tirewoman. Whom now I crossed by accident. Traf. 'Tis strange. Clif. Great Heaven ! what's strange ? Traf. Fay, fear not for her health ; 442 THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act m. Far rather than endure tKis frantic hour I'd lay my s(jrr<)W,s in thy lajj and die, Diinking those Kilvery syllables that melt Like music linni a viewless Ijarp u'er which The niyht-breezc sij^lis its requiem. — Lady ! — Aiiiie. Xay ! — Call me not lady! Call me, as of yore, Thy joy, thine own, tliy loved one ! and, anon. When the last echo of thy horse's ho(jls Shall leave these chambers comf'ortlos, my tears Shall flow less wildly for that blest farewell. Alas ! — wherein have I offended thee ? Wliy drops thy hand thus listless fi'om my own ? C 'lif. Because the henbane's roots are round my heart ; Because I kur)w not woman and her wiles ; Because yon frowning forefathers of mine Look down and bid me shun thee. — Maiden, hear me ! IIa^"e we not watched on many a gusty night Black v;ipours struggling with the virgin moon. Like fiends enraged with Heaven ? — her bright orb Awhile impi-isoned in their foul embrace ; Anon to Avcnd again her glorious way. Steeping the world in lovehness ? A)iiu'. Alas ! Thou speak'st in parables. I pray thee, soho them ! C/if. Know, then ! the moon is thy fair fame : the mists Are doubts that cloud its brightness. Aime. Xot of yore Thus churhshly thou spak'st on the fair nights We watched the moon together. — Shame on thee! [Lid angels told nie half an hour ago Such heartless words could pass Lord Clifford's lijts. I hiid not believed them. ( '/if. Half an hour, sny'st thou? "I'is II brief s]):ice ; and yet one brief half-hour M:iy with, r u whole life. In half an hour ScEKE v.] THE LAST WAE OF THE EOSES. 439 Traf. Ay ! and stir Thy waspisli wrath again. Clif. Nay, bear with me ! I will be calm ; hate should be ever cahn. Traf. Then listen ! — Should I give thee ample proofs That in the very chamber of thy love, Lurks the spruce errant knight I told thee of, Wilt thou not thank me for untramm'hng thee From this unworthy thraldom ? Clif. Baidst thou proofs ? — They hed who used that word to thee. Traf WeU, well ! Meet me at dusk beneath the Eagle tower, And thou thyself shalt witness to their truth. Clif. And why not now convince me, Martin Trafford? Doubt is so dreadful I would learn the worst, Ev'n though thy words sent arrows through my heart. Traf. Nay, nay ! it is impossible. Eemember ! 'Tis but an hour's uncertainty ; — farewell ! [Going. Clif. Wherein, ye guardian saints ! have I so sinned That I should merit this great misery ? [Exit. Traf. Hate should be calm, he said; and he said well. Hate should present the lull before the storm. Stifled, but charged for bursting. Such is mine ! Such, for my purpose, will I make this dullard's ! [Eicit. SCENE V. The Hall in Skipton Castle. Clifford, solus. Clif. This, then, my murdered father ! was thy sword, Grim with the blood of Eutland and of York ! Pear not thy son will shame it. Let me look. Albeit my last, upon this bannered hall Where frown the pictured heroes of my race 444 THE LAST WAK OP THE ROSES. [Act HI. Who, side by side with my great father, charged At Soinerset'H doomed throat at Tewkesbury. Alack-a-day ! truth must have flown the earth Wlien Huch as tliou prove false. JJ/i/l>y. By the gilt epurs Thy sire begirt me with on Barrj(jt fnAd ! By these grey hairs, oft perilled in his cause ! I merit not this scorn from thee ! P. Eliz. Away ! Thou wear'st the livery of perjured Gloucester, Who slew my brother and usui'ps his crown, Yet dar'st to say thou'rt honest ! Get thee hence ! King Edward's daughter has her sire's disdain Tor renegades and time-servers. Dighif. By Heaven ! These are harsh words to greet a soldier's ear. Lady! — P. Eliz. Nay, tell thine errand, Sir, and leave me ! I foin would be alone again. Dighy. Alas, then! The King entreats your Highness to accept My humble escort, and tliis night depai't For Leicester, where he tarries for youi' Grace. P. Eliz. What warrant hast thou for this rude behest ? Dighy. His Grace's signet-ring and this fiiii" scroll Writ by his royal hand : his Highness adds, That for the due observance of yom* state, The Lady Margaret of Lancaster Will journey in your Grace's train to Leicester; At least, he so entreats of her. P. Eliz. Alas ! Entreaty and command, in those wild days, licar but the same I'udo meaniiii:i;. Leave me, 8ii"! Your lieu;e shall be obeyed. I>igl>!l. \_Asidc.'] She little deems What [lerils 1 would I'isk for her. \_Exit. ScENB v.] THE LAST WAE OF THE EOSES. 441 Anne. These are cold words to pass 'twixt thee and me. What if I sought thee, Henry ? Clif. May I crave, — So scornful as this very morn thou wert, — What moves thee, Lady, so to honour me ? Anne. Because — thou wert my playmate, brother, friend, In happy childhood. Thou hast done me wrong ; Didst pledge thy troth to me, yet break that troth. Making me scorned of others and myself Yet I forgive thee, Henry ! for the sake Of our young love, and the remembered time. When, side by side, and hand in hand, we strayed Along the greenwood and the rivulet, Deeming each copse a paradise, that roofed The primrose and the blue-bell. Thou go'st forth To battle with the ruthless ; and if death Should be thy lot, and the red earth thy grave, 'Iwould rack me to my dyuig hour to think I had let thee part from the old hall, nor spake One kind, — one last "God speed thee." But thou stand'st With haughty aspect and Avith folded arms. As if 'twere I who had wronged thee, not thou me. Clif. Now ! by that Heaven who reads thy heart and mine ! And by this sword my dying father grasped ! I swear I never wronged thee ! Anne. Say'st thou so ? — Then we are friends, dear trusting friends, again ? Oh, tell me that we are ! — Thou answerest not ! [Takes his hand. Canst feel no tear fall on thy hand ? — Canst hear No heart throb louder than thine own ? — What ! — cold And unrelenting still ? Clif. Nay, nay ! — not cold : G G 4 Hi TUB LAST WAH OP TIIE ROSES. [Act III. From Skiptoii ; but there lives a cut-throat knave Woukl truck liiiu to his doom. Hub. What! Master Henry P Deshrtiw th' ungrateful and perfidious villain ! Would I might cross him ! Traf. And thou shalt, good Hubert. Her Grace so loves this knight, that if he fell I fear 'twould be her death-stroke. ]\hirk me, then ! Hide thee anon belund the Eagle Tower, And, should'st thou hear fierce words and clashing steel, Spring forth and strike ! — Thou know'st thy man, brave Hubert. IJub. He shall not balk me, Master Trafibrd. Traf. Stay ! I have left my rapier in my sleeping room : I pray thee fetch it. Keep it for awhile ; I need it not as yet. Dost mark me, Hubert ? — I need it not^^'s^ uoio. Should blood be shed, And thou, a serf, be questioned how it chanced Thou carriedst steel, tliou'lt ans^ver thou wert speeding On Mailer TraCbrd's erraud for his sword : Thus -will it seem sheer accident, friend HuliLit. Thou wert so bravely furnished. Hub. I'U at once To do tliy bidding. Let the wretch but lift Ilis finger 'gainst the man her hi;4hness love^. And, trust me ! I'll be quits with him. [Edit HuBEKX. Traf. Poor fool ! Yet thus is man the prey of man, no less Than slave to his own passit^is. So far well ! Now for tlie stranger! — Should lie chance to prove 'I'lic rebel earl, he yet may win the day ; And, tluTefoi'.', to forcslall his gratitude, I'll make it seem, or own my^-elf a dullard, As if lie owed his lifi' to me l>v means Scene V.] THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. 443 Either I prove thee chaste as Heaven, and hate These hps that have so slandered thee, — Anne. Or else? — • Clif. We have met — to meet no more. \_Exit Olifford. Anne: Gone ! — has he gone — Without one gentle word, one parting look ? — Oh, cruel, cruel Clifford ! — My fair fame Aspersed, my love repulsed, my tears despised, By CHfford too ! I should be wroth with him, — Should hate him, fly from him ; but he may die. And then dreadful thought ! heavy hour ! — So woe-begone, so crushed, so lone, I am. My heart will burst from very wretchedness. Enter the Princess Elizabeth. P. Eliz. Weep not, dear Anne! AH will be well again, With thee if not with me : nay, prythee weep not ! Enter an Attendant. Aiten. Madam ! a knight, in the King's name, entreats Instant and private speech with thee. P. Eliz. Admit him ! I have no choice but to receive the knave. \_Exit Attendant. [To Anne.] Sweetheart, cheer up! I'll seek thee pre- sently, And learn what causes these fresh tears of thine. \Exit Anne. Enter Sir Simon Digby. [i4si(^e.] Ah ! the stout knight my father loved so weU? [Aloud.'] If I mistake not, thou'rt Sir Simon Digby, G G 2 448 THE LAST WAR OP THE E03E3, [Act III. Draw nearer, MiiHtcr Henry ! See'st thou nought Sliadiii^r tlic' light athwart you lattice blind? ( '///'. I do, — I do : — unless my sight's bewitched, I nuirk the yielding figure of a maid, And, bending over her caiessingly. The shape of one who seems her paramour. Traf. 'Tis he ! I would that I might tarry here. Thy angry humour makes me fear for thee. ( 'lif. Fear not for me, who fear not for myself. Tnif. Yet cross him not ! I ^varn thee not to cross him ! 'Twere worse than madness. Clif. I am mad already. Tnif. Nay, take a friend's ad\-ice : and now, farewell ! I must speed hence to hinder worse mishaps. [_Exh Traffoed. Clif. Not cross him? — May confusion seize on him ! — Ho takes her hand ; — he draws her to his side: — He plants his impious lips upon her cheek. Oh, ngony ! — but, see, he comes! Xot cross liim? I'll cross him to his death. Enter the Earl of 'RicmiO'SD. Who art tliou who stealest Thus thief-hke from a maiden's bower ? Rich. [.l.s?W('.] What means This senseless interruption? \^AJoudP\ Good my friend. We hiwv no quarrel : stand aside, I charge thee. And let me pass. ( 'lif. We have no qviarrel. say'st thou ? Then lor our ]);islinie's sake I'll lind us one : ^\'lio art lliou? Ilich. To be crossed and boarded thus T'y :i b;ise clown ! — Sirrah ! thine insolence Deserves ;i whipping al the porter's lodge ; Sland b:irk ! SCENB VI.] THE LAST WAE OF THE KOSES. 445 P. Eliz. Assuredly I must obey ; yet, strange to say, I quail not. "lis true, I sliall be nearer my grim uncle, Yet better be environed with armed hosts Than caged in these lone haUs. And now, adieu. Ye gloomy towers of Skipton ! and Heaven grant That, save I visit you as England's queen, I ne'er may cross your dismal courts again ! [Exit. SCENE VI. A Terrace below Skipton Castle. Teafpord and Hubert. Traf. Hubert, thou lov'st thy mistress ? From thy birth, Her grace has ever favoured thee. Hub. I owe her More than I e'er can pay her. Traf. And thou loathest This Master Henry? Hub. Little cause I have To love him. Master Trafford. Traf. Shall I show thee How thou may'st serve thy mistress, and the while Per ever rid us of this pestilent upstart ? Hub. Say on, good Master Trafford ! Traf. Should it chance That hate and treachery dogged the steps of one Her Grace holds precious as her soul, — a knight She shelters from his enemies, methinks Thou'dst strike a blow to save him. Hub. I should hke Such gaUant service. Traf. Listen then ! Anon, A knight her grace so cherishes steals forth GG 3 450 THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act III. Now, is it iuc(!L tliat we should wraiiLile more ? i'lif. My lord! iiiyliefr<;! I was unmimiicrly To arraign tlit'i' as 1 did : and yet, by J[L'a\L'U ! WliL'u I remind me Ikav tliy lips assayed A cheek Avliidi to my fancy was as chaste As virgin sn(nv, — Hick. Wljy ! thou wert wrotli with me : I read thy thoughts : tliou didst imagine me Some gay !)eleagucrer of ladies' hearts, Some graceless triller prowling after sweets In meads that are another's. But thou wnuig'st me: I did but claim, in common courtesy, The pleasant privilege of relationship To leave a kiss on a fair cousin's cheek ; And, by my troth, it is a jxissing fair one I (7(7'. May all good angels bless tliee f(jr those words ! My liege, my sov'reign liege! for such I hold tliee. Thou see'st belore thee an attainted man. His lands distrained, his honours forfeited, And strangers rampant in his father.-' halls. My grandsires fought and conquered in their time : Ihey died the death of heroi'S : I alone. The last of a long ancestry, in vain Have fretted l( ir the chance and cii'cumstance Wiiieli made them glorious; yet my jirayers are heard If, as a soldier, thou wilt lay tliy sword Upon a sdldier's son, and say to him, ''Come forth with me and earn a warrior's fame. Or hewthyst'lf a soldier's sepulchre." \J\neeh. Ilirli. There spake the spirit of thy forefatliers. vVrise, Sir Knight, and follow me! [Clutokd visisl] iMen say l,iird Stanley's steeds are matchless for their speed. I'rovide thee (hen the Heetesl ! And anon Ab'ct ine beiiealh yon agoui/iug' group Of iioplar trees, thai, scoumed bv the iierce gii.-t. Scene VL] THE LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. 447 Of Hubert's interference. But already From latticed window and from embrasure The Castle lights are flashing. A strange chill And death-hke gloom creep o'er me. The wan moon Eises in muffled beauty, as a bride, Sickly and woe-begone, might stagger forth Beneath a troop of funeral plumes. The wind Chafes with a dirge-like, melancholy moan ; While, grim as hell-ldtes round the necromancer, The demon bats dart past me. But here comes My other prey ! Enter Clifford. Thou art punctual, Master Henry. 'Tis well ; as I've a mission from her Grace Pregnant with life or death : — or else, — Clif. What would'st thou ? Traf. Confront the gallant who still loiters here. As wooer or as spy. Clif. Quick ! what of him ? Traf. Mark me ! — anon he will descend yon steps. And, as a loyal servant of her Grace, 'Twere right that I should question him. Clif. Goto! Leave that to me who have the better right : At least I had so yesterday. — Great Heaven ! Why! 'tis the chamber of the Lady Anne Thy finger points at with such icy scorn ! Now ! by my soul I'll dash him to the earth Who dares to desecrate so pure a slirine ! Traf. Nay, cross him not! I pray thee cross him not! Thou wilt but breed disturbance ; and besides Thou art unarmed. Clif. And art not thou unarmed ? Traf 'Tis true ; I had forgotten it : but, hush ! G G 4 43.2 THE LAST WAE OF THE EOSES. [Act TV. I lick. Lead the way, sir ! Speed thee, brave ClifTord, speed thee ! ( 'lif. Doubt it not ; Thou shalt not long expect me. \_Ejit Cliffoed. Traf. [Asid,.'] CUfTord, Miid he ? Then have I guessed liis ciu-sed name aright. Chfford, I loathe thee ! and maj^ crush thee still. [Exeunt liiCHiioxD and Tbaffoed. ACT IV. SCENE I. Interior of a tent near Bosworth. Lord Stanley, solus. Stun. Tlie time draws near I must to Atherstone. \_Enter the P/-/hc\'.vx Elizabeth a/k/ AV ElXilXALDBRAY. Sir Ueij. Here, Lady, we must part. — ily Lord, the Princess. [E.rit Sir R. Beat. Stan. \_AsiJe.'\ Thi^ is a favour which I looked not for. P. Eli:. ]\Iy Lord ! thou wert the friend of my (.bead sire : He loved thee well and in his dying hour. While those lu' prized knelt .robbing round his couch. His ebbing breath bequeathed me to thy care, And ehiirged tiu'e wilh the wardship of his child. S/dii. Thill solemn pa.^sage hi his life and mine Is not fdigotlen. Lady. Thy great sire Lnposed that saered trust in me ; what woiild'st thou ? Scene VI.] THE LAST WAK OF THE EOSES. 449 Clif. Now ! tell me qmckly who thou art, Or, by the hght of Heav'n ! — Rich. Stand back ! I say ! Clif. Ay ! draw thy foil, and with my quarter-staff, I'll hurl it piece-meal to the castle ditch. Rich. What monstrous folly's this ? I wage no war With serfs and vassals. If a friend thou art To the great lady of these halls, thou'lt seek To speed me on my way, not thwart me thus. Clif. Now will 1 shame thy craven soul to arms ! Thou caU'dst me vassal, and therein thou lied'st : My sires were noble when thine own were serfs. And forth, from these their towers, thou passest not. Rich. Beshrew thee and thy stale nobility ! And yet thy language gives thy garb the he ; Who art thou, then, who dar'st obstruct me thus ? Clif. The time has passed I cared for secresy. Behold me ! baffled skulker that thou art ! Henry Lord Clifford, lord of Westmoreland The rightful seignior of these haUs. Rich. Ye Saints ! Can Chfford hve? — the heir of that fierce house Which made ev'n Warwick tremble ? Bear with me. Eight noble Clifford ! Of ah. men on earth 'Twere most unnatural that thou and I Should meet or part in bitterness. Clif. Avaunt ! Thou shall not fool me with thy cozening words. I am so distempered by a hideous grief. Thy very look breeds tortures in my soul. Rich. Nay, hear me ! for the love of Heaven, hear me ! Our sires were fellow-soldiers, kinsmen, friends : Of yore, on many a fiery battle-field. Thy fathers charged with mine, and fell for mine ; And, therefore, with no churlish courtesy Win I return thy confidence. — Thine ear ! — • [Whispers Clifford. ir,l THE LAST WAR OF THE ROSES. [Act IV. Shin. Sweet rriricesa I I am young no more ; yet still I own tin; iiiiijcsty of lovclinusH Which UKikcs nuMi saints, knaves, hcroc's, what it wills, Omnipotent f(jr evil or for good : Then liow ("ui I behold the peerless child Of the' great King who niadt; mc wjjat I am Thus bowed by grief, thus lovely in her tears. Nor feel as man should ever feel for woman ? Tliou art fair, and therefoie sIkjuIiI I arm for thee ; Thou art sad, and therefore do I weep with thee ; Thou art young, and therefore would I trust in thee ; My Queen, — and therefore do I kneel to thee. \_Kneeh. Thus place I life and fortune in thy liands ; For, glanced King Uicliard on these bended knee?, A feather dropping from a moulting bird Were of more value than Lord Stanley's life. \_Rm.s. I'd dare for thee whatever man shoiild dare For woman, but alas ! — I am powerless. P. Eliz. Thou art powerless, my Lord:' — what meanest thou ? Tklcthought I had heard my mighty father say Of all his fiery barons there was none Could marshal to the field so brave a host As hailed the Lord of Lathom for theii- chief. To see Lord Stanley charging at the head Of the renowned retainers of his house IVIight well alarm, he said, a weak king's fears. And I'ouse a stout king's envy. Oh, my lord I Not long ere he departed hence, my sire. The while his mother's weakness filled his eyes. Thus hnked thy name with mine. — Fierce foes, he said. Were leagued against liis house and heritage. And lliou!ih 1 was tlu' dauLjliter of a kiu^ So feared and envied as lie then appeared, Yel, when death's mightier hand should lay him low, 111 times might fall upon his darling one. Scene VI.] THE LAST WAE OF THE ROSES. 451 Bow down, like spirits in eternal bale, Their silvery crests to the disdainful moon. Clif. Yet fain I'd say, farewell ! — Rich. Is this a time For lovers' partings ? Speed thee ! and when next Thou standest on this. homestead of thy sires, I tell thee ! that, from yonder battlements, The crimson banner of thy house shall wave Its ancient welcome to its long-lost lord. Fetch but thy father's sword ; with aU besides, That should equip a knightly gentleman, My henchmen shall provide thee at the camp. But Where's my appointed guide ? Enter Teapfoed, unperceived. Traf. [Aside.'] I much mishke This new, unnatural friendship. By my troth. Should they compare surmises and suspects I am lost for ever. \_Aside to Cliffoed.] Hearken, Master Henry! It seems we are playing at cross purposes : We were mistaken in this gentleman. Clif. [Aside to Teaffoed . ] Eather, methinks, thou hast played the traitor, TrafFord. By Heaven ! I half suspect thee. Traf. [Aside to Cliffoed.] And, by Heaven ! m brook not such rude words from living man ! I am here upon an errand from her Grace, To guide this stranger to the poplar-grove : What would'st thou more ? Clif. [Aside to Teaffoed.] Thy life — if thou hadst wronged him. Traf. [Aside to Cliffoed.] Away, slight braggart ! At a fitting season Thou shalt arraign me when and where thou wilt. [To Eichmond.] Sir Knight, I bide thy bidding. 456 THE LAST WAK OF THE ROSES. [Act IV. P. Eiiz. My lord?— Stii.ii. Nay, ui'ge me not ! There's one above Who, should I (loom to death (jur mutual boy O'er whom she hovers in her silveiy .slieen, Would seek me in my widowed dreams no more ; I'erchancc deuounce me at tlie throne of Heaven. P. Eliz. TJieii all is lost ! EHzaljetJi of York Has now no friend but Heaven. Stan. Yet Heaven ere now Has shaped a happy issue out of ills l']v"n dark as thine. Dear prince>s, trust in God ! And, next to God, trust to thy father's Mend, Wlro yet may succour, — nay, wlio yet may save thee! Mourn not as those who sorrow without hope ; And uow, farewell ! — Sir Eeginald, what ho, there ! Enter Sir Eegixald Brat. Sfd)). Take back. Sir Eeginald, thy precious charge! Goodnight! — good night, sweet maid ! May soothing dreams And brighter hopes, to-morrow, smile on thee ! [St.\:nley nfires. Sir Rcij. He spake of comfort, lady ? P. Eliz. But save none ; He bade me hope, but I am sick of hope : 'Tis but a false and cozening name for doubt, And doubt is di-eadful as reality. Re-enter Lord Stanlky. Sfetn. [yl.s/(/(>.] Poor child! her father's spirit pleads for lier. [_Ahnul.'] Sir Eeginald! Sir Peg. My lord! Stdii. \_A!l' the oceaji-shell. I dare not pniy, or I would pray for her. Scene H.] THE LAST WAK OF THE EOSBS. 457 Sir Reg. My lord! Stan. No more, sir ! Albeit I falter at a maiden's tears, I brook not man's rude questionings. \_Exeunt omnes. SCENE II. A retired spot near Atherstone. The Earl of Eichmond, Lord Stanley, CLirFOHD, and Sir Simon Digbt. Stan. This, then, I promise ! — that, whate'er betide, I will not arm against thee. Rich. Should Lord Strange Find means to escape — what then ? Stan. I battle for thee. Rich. But should the tyrant slay him ? Stan. Then I fight For vengeance and my own sake. Rich. Is there nought Win stir thee to join instant cause with us ? Stan. While my boy's hfe depends upon my acts There's nought. Couldst thou have seen his mother's eyes, Thou hadst not asked me to forsake her chUd. Rich. Yet Brutus, when his country was in peril, Preferred the Eoman's to the father's part. And doomed his sons to die before his face. Stan. Those sons were traitors to the noblest cause That Eoman ever struggled for ; but mine Has done no wrong that he should die the death. Rich. Then ! rather than thou'lt risk his single life. Thou wilt imperil as sublime a cause As that for which the Eoman slew his sons ? Stan. My lord ! I have a home, a happy home, Eich with ancestral memories ; a home Where dwelt the founders of my line, and where HH 402 TUB LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. [Act IV. That to promote his own presumptuous suit Ho planned this feud between thee and thy love. Anne. Traffbrd? — my earhest friend? — No, lady, no ! lie could not, would not, wrong me thus. P. Eliz. Alas ! Thou httle knowest the world's viUanies. Thou wert not born the heiress tu a throne As I was, gentle one ; thou never saw'st Peers, courtiers, statesmen, fawning at thy feet, Love on their lips, but falsehood in their hearts : Yet such was my estate while fortuiic smiled. Whose earhest lesson was to he with grace And seem the thing I was not : — such is Traflbrd ! Traf. [.l.v/y peril and by threatened pemny ; ISTor then I had spoken but my licart was full, Si) fidl that, torrent-like, love Ijuist the bounds ()!' prudence and of duty! 1 was wrong; Yet, when my soul forced language tn my hp^. 'Twas nature syllabled the fi-antic word-, Not thy spurned baseborn kinsman. Count. Thou art riglit ; The tempter and the tempted both have erred. Great as thy fault has been, I t( )o was Avrong : Wrong that I reared thee to too high a -tate. And wrong in tempting thee beyond tliy strength. At present leave me ! at more fitting time Thou shalt have private speech ■with me. P. Eli:. Stay, sirrali ! I too have words to say to thee whicli yet May force less hauLrhty laiiLiuaiic Worn thy lips. I charge tlice ! — that to ^p^'ed thine own bold suit Thou didst ])erri(liously insinuate Distrusls Ih'Iwci'u this maid and her betrothed; FaJsi'Iy a.nd foully reprt-sonting liim A Iniilor lo his word and to his love. Tr<(f. Lady ! thou wrong'st me, cruelly thou wrong'st me. Scene III.] THE LAST WAR OF THE KOSES. 461 There is an angel-mission in her eyes, An angel's sweetness in her voice, which plead, More ably than her Grace's homihes, That good exists on earth and joy in heaven. But ah! — Heaven's spirits seem abroad this night Of perfect loveliness : — what ! stirring stiU ? — The princess and the Lady Anne? — 'Twere well I watch their midnight vigils. Enter the Princess Elizabeth and Anistb St. John. Traffokd conceals himself and observes them. P. Eliz. Dearest Anne ! I cannot sleep. Anne. JSTor I, sweet princess ! Thoughts Of death and carnage, and the clank of arms, Have so distraught my spirits, that in vain I have sighed and prayed for slumber. P. Eliz. Let us hope This heavenly night may calm our restive thoughts. Nay! cheer up, Anne: slight cause, methinks, thou hast For heaviness of heart, since, by my troth, I almost envy thee thy shepherd-lord, Who strove so bravely with ill times, and who, If right I judge him, in to-morrow's fight WiU. emulate the valour of his sires. And claim my friend's fair hand for his reward. Anne. Lady ! I have told thee that he loves me not ; Nay, that he loves another. P. Eliz. Nay, nay, Anne ! Lord CHfTord loves thee as true knight should love, And should he die the death, — Anne. Die ! — Chffbrd die ? — P. Eliz. There, say no more ! That look of agony More eloquently proves than words could do How tenderly thou lovest him. Now mark me ! — Mistrust this Trafford : little doubt I have, H B 3 406 THE LAST WAR OF THE EOSES. [Act IV. Himself contrived for others ? Oh ! fool, fool ! To pluni/. And t'\'n as fate o'ertook that ruthless crew. Doth \'engeance lowi'r above the h.ead of ( ilouci'>ter. Jli'di/. Amen! Tliiil he is doomed I ijuotion not ; ^'et slill thei'e doth pertain to this dire king An adiimantine fortitude, ii grim l)elight in dangei-, and a rooted hnle Of idl who thwiu't him in his devilish ways. Which, ev'n in de;illi, will niiike him terrible. ('limit. Thon deem'sl, then, he will die, as he has lived, Undauntetive to falsify or mislcail. For instance, in the account wliich he gives of the confessions said to have been made Ijy Sir James Tyrrell and Dighton in the reign of Henry A'lL, we find Sir Thomas cautiously introducing such e.xjiressions as " they say," and " I have heard.'' But, though even More himself hesitates to vouch Ibrtlie entire truth of all he relates, his narrative is nevertheless entitled to the highest resjiect. It should be borne in mind how near he lived to the times of which he wrote; that liis jiosition in society enabled him to con- verse with and interrogate many persons who had excellent means of knowing the truth ; that, as a man learned in the law, be was eminently well qualified to weigh, and decide on the value of the evidence which he had collected ; and, lastly, how great is the im- ]irobability that a man of high honour and integrity, such as was Sir Thomas Mure, fhould have deliberately falsified or garbled facts. That there were current, in the days of Sir Thomas More, many and contradictory ver.sions of the tragical story of the voimg princes, we can readily understand. " Of the manner of the de.-itb of this young king and of his brother," writes tlie chronicler Kastell, "■ there were diverse opinions ; but the mo.st common ojiinion wa.s, that they were smothered between two feather-beds, and that, in tlic doing, the younger brother c scaped iVom under the 1'eathcr-beds, and eie]it under the liedstead, and iheie lav n.akid awhile, till tliat they had smothered the young king so that he was surely dead; and, utler thai, one of them tuok his brother from under the bedstead, and held liis (iice down to the gi-ound witli liis one hand, and witli tlie other hand cut his thrn:it iisnndcr with a dagger, li is a marvel that any jnan i-iiiild have Bo haul a he.-ut In do sn ev\ie] a deed, ."save only that necessity compel leil tin ill ; liir I hey were .sn chaiyed liy the duke, the |in. lector, that if tiny showed imt to hiin the bodies of both thosi. APPEJYDIX 502 Al'I'i;XDIX. of tlio crime (if Iri'iiHon with which she was charged, but for her nutorioiis aikiltcry.* Murt'ovcr, when, some time afterwards, Richard w.'is alliii'dud the (i]i]io]tunity of increasing the Kcvcrity of Irt punishiiifut, kyed to interrogate her while under restraint, and who became so enamoured of lier as to make her an offer of his hand, liicliard naturally re- garded the conduct of his solicitor as indecent and reprehensible ; nor probably, in those days, would the conduct of the so^■(_'reign have been considered over-harsh, had he dismissed Sir Thomas fi-om his post, or even committed him to prison. But, so far from actinjr with severity, his behaviour, on being apprized of the unseemh- courtship, was alike that of a lenient prince and a kind-hearted man. To IJus- sell. Bishop of Lincoln, then lord-chancellor, he writes : — "We, for many causes, should be sony that he (the solicitor-general) so should be disposed. ]^-ay you therefore to send for hun, and in that ye goodly may exhort and stir him to the contrary. And if ve find him iitterly set for to marry her, and none otherwise will be advised, then (if it may stand with the law of the cLurch) we be content, (the time of marriage deferred to our coming next to London) that, upon sufficient surety found of her good abering, 3-e do send for her keeper, ami disehai'ge him of our said commandment by warrant of these, committing her to the rule and guidance of her father, or aiiy other b}' your discretion, in the mean season. " To the rifjlit rcrereiul father in God, ij-c, tJieBi-^In p of L:ncoln.''^ The popular story of Richard forbidding the citizens of Lvudon to relieve the unfortunate woman during her penance, and of hor dyitip:, in consequence of hunger and fatigue, in Shoreditch, is niauilcstly apocryphal. " I onulil not pet 0110 bit of brcail, Whercli^y my lumpjcr might I10 ftnl ; Nor drink, but sucli .is chaniipls yield, <>i' sliiikiiijx ditches in tho Held. * Hist, t'oiibts, r.onl (hfei'il's \Voiks. vol. ii. p. 171; .S ruruer's Middle A|;eH, vol. iii. |i. I 1;), ed. IS'.'."). t Ibirl. AIS. 111:!, fol, ;!ll), qmited in Lord Oil',. M's Works, vol. ii. p. 174; I lampbell's ClmiioellorH, vol. i, \k mil, \\ linv l,.ml Orfonl's iuaeourate roferouce lo III.' Iliu-1, M.S. in rerrr,'leil. APPENDIX. A. KING eichard's personal appearance. (See p. 78.) " The old Countess of Desmond, who liad danced with Richard," ■writes Walpole, " declared he was the handsomest man in the room except his brother Edward, and very well made." — Historic Doubts, Lord Orford's Works, vol. ii. p. 166. " As I have just received, through another channel," writes Sharon Turner, " a traditional statement of what the Countess of Desmond mentioned on this subject, I will subjoin it, and the series of au- thorities for it. Mr. Paynter, the magistrate, related to my son, the Rev. Sydney Turner, the following particulars : — When a boy, about the year 1810, he heard the old Lord Glastonbury, then at least ninety years of age, declare that, when he was a young lad, he saw, and was often with, the Countess of Desmond, then living, an aged woman. She told him that when she was a girl she had known familiarly, and frequently seen, an old lady who had been brought up by the former Countess of Desmond, who became noted for her remarkable longevity, as she lived to be one hundred and twenty years of age. This lady mentioned that this aged Countess of Desmond had declared that she had been at a court banquet where Richard was present, and that he was in no way personally deformed or crooked. Edward IV. was deemed, in his day, the handsomest man of his court." — Sharon Turner'' s Richard the Third, a Poem, p. 277, note. The reader, who may be interested in the story of the " old Countess of Desmond" and her remarkable recollections of Rich- ard IIL, is referred to " An Enquiry into the Person and Age of the Countess of Desmond," Lord Orford's Works, vol. i. p. 210; Sharon Turner's Ilist. of the Middle Ages, vol. iii. p. 443; Quarterly Review, vol. ii. p. 329; and Notes and Queries, vols. ii. iii. iv. and v. passim. .'04 APPENDIX. liccl lifter the king had made her Iiis concubine."* Drayton and Sir ThoiiiiiB Mure :i;j;rci- tliiit a want of stiliire was a drawback to her otluTwi.sc Hii];(iil.-ir lovelinOHS. " J'i-opi:r she w;is," says the latter, "ami liiir; nothing,' in Iicr- body tliat yuii would havr/ changed, but if you would liavi' wished Iicr Honiowhat higher. Tlius they .say that knew her in jier youth." — " Yet," continues the future lord-chan- cellor, " delij,'lited not men so much in her beauty as in her pleasant behaviour. For a proper wit had ulie, and could both read well and write ; merry in company, ready and quick of answer, neither mute nor full of babble, somewhat taunting, without displeasure and not without disport. The king would say that he had three concubines, which in three diverse properties diversely excelled. One the mer- riest, another the wiliest, the thii-d the holiest harlot in his realm, as one whom no man could get out of the church lightly to any place, but it were to his bed. The other two were somewhat greater personages, and natheless of their humility content to be nameless, and to forbear the praise of those properties. But the merriest was this Sliore's wife, in whom the king therefore took special plea.sure. For many he had but her he loved, whose favours, to say the tnith (lor sin it were to belie the de\'il), she never abused to any man's hurt, but to many a man's comfort and relief. ^Vllere the king took displeasure, she would mitigate and appease his mind. Where men were out of favour, she would bring them in his grace. For many that had highly otTeiiiled, she obtained pardon. Of great forfeitures she got men remission. And finally, in many weighty suits, she stood many men in great stead, cither for none or very small rewards, aad those rather gay than rich : either for that she was content with the deed itself well done, or for that she delighted to be sued unto, and to show what she was able to do with the king, or for that wanton women and wealthy be not always covetous. " I doulit not some shall think this woman so slight a thing, to be written of and set among the remembrances of great mattera; which they shall specially think, that haply shall esteem her onlv by that they now sec her. But meseemeth the chance so much the more worthy to be remembered, in how much she is now in the more beggarly condition, unfriended and worn out of acquaintance, aitor gfiod substance, afler as groat favour with the prince, after as great suit and seeking to with all llmse that those days had business to speed." f Jane Slioi'c survived till the reign of Ilonry Ylll.. dying, appa- rently, in great distress .and at an adv.'inoed age. " At this day," writes Sir 'i'lioni.as l\Iere, "she l«-ggelh of manv,al this dav living, that at this d.13' h.id begged if .s]u' had not beou." | Of the beauty which Di-Mjl. ill's \V..rKs. y. 121. t;,l. I71S. t Mer,'> Kichard III. pp. 8,"> -86. } TlM.l. p Sd. APPENDIX. 501 children dead, on the morrow after they were so commanded, that then they themselves should be put to death. Wherefore they that were so commanded to do it, were compelled to fulfil the protector's will. " And after that, the bodies of these two children, as the opinion ran, were both closed in a great heavy chest, and, by the means of one that was secret with the protector, they were put in a ship going to Flanders ; and, when the ship was in the black deeps, this man threw both those dead bodies, so closed in the chest, over the hatches into the sea ; and yet none of the mariners, nor none in the ship save only the said man, wist what things it was that were there so enclosed. Which saying diverse men conjectured to be true, because that the bones of the said children could never be found buried, neither in the Tower nor in any other place. " Another opinion there is, that they which had the charge to put them to death, caused one to cry suddenly, ' Treason, treason ! ' Wherewith the children, being afraid, desired to know what was best for them to do. And then they bade them hide themselves in a great chest, that no man should find them, and if anybody came into the chamber they would say they were not there. And, ac- cording as they counselled them, they crept both into the chest, which, anon after, they locked. And then anon they buried that chest in a great pit under a stair, which they before had made therefor, and anon cast earth thereon, and so buried them quick [ahve]. Which chest was after cast into the black deeps, as is before said." — RasteWs Chronicles (a.d. 1529), pp. 292, 293. c. JANE SHORE, (See p. 187.) It may be argued, that the cruel treatment, which the too-cele- brated Jane Shore encountered during the protectorate of Eichard, tends to weaken the evidence which has been adduced in support of his sympathy with female suffering. But Walpole has suggested, and his conjecture is probably correct, that it was at the instigation of the priesthood, and not of Eichard, that this frail but tender- hearted woman suffered her celebrated persecution. Certain it is that the pimishment to which she was subjected was not on accoimt POSTSCRIPT. KING RICHARD HL This volume had nearly passed the press, when there appeared, under the auspices of the Master of the Eolls, two historical works of considerable value, each of which contains a point bearing on the disputed cri- minahty of Eichard EH. The works alluded to are " Letters and Papers illustrative of the Eeigns of Eichard III. and Henry VII.," edited by James Gaird- ner, Esq. ; and " Political Poems and Simgs, composed between the Accession of Edward III. and that of Eichard III.," edited by Thomas Wright, Esq. Previously to the appearance of the former of these works, some doubts had been entertained by the author of tliis volume whether parhameut can pro- perly be said to have assembled during the brief reign of Edward V. ; a point involving the weighty ques- tion as to how far the usurpation of Eichai-d ITL was sanctioned by the legislature. Certainly, strong evi- dence of such a parhamentary meeting having taken place had been adduced by tlie late Mr. Shai'on Turner, although he admits that it may have been irregularly convened, and merely for " present exigen- cies." * But the validity of those arguments has since been impugned by Mi'. Nichols -j- ; and thus tlio ques- * Ilisloiy of Engliind during llio Middio Agrs, vi'l. iii. pp. JkSo — .•!'jr>, cd. iH.'io. f (JiiinlH, i^i'. iVdiii (lie Crown during the Roign of Edward V., Ilisl. Introdiiclion liy Jolin (I. Nioliols, Issi]., pp. .')87— 'I'.l.'). APPENDIX. 503 " Thug, weary of my life, at length. I yielded up my vital strength Within a ditch of loathsome scent, Where carrion dogs did much frequent. " The -vrhieh now, since my dying day. Is Shoreditoh called, as writers say. Which is a witness of my sin. For being concubine to a king."* To Sir Thomas More we are indebted for the following quaint and graphic description of Jane Shore undergoing her penance at PaiU's Cross: — "He" [Eichard] " caused the Bishop of London to put her to open penance, going before the cross in procession upon a Sunday with a taper in her hand. In which she went in countenance, and pace demure, so womanly, and albeit she was out of all array save her kirtle [petticoat] only ; yet went she so fair and lovely, namely, while the wondering of the people cast a comely red in her cheeks, — of which she before had most miss, — that her great shame won her much praise among those that were more amorous of her body, than curious of her soul. And many good folk also, that hated her Uving, and glad were to see sin corrected, yet pitied they more her penance than rejoiced therein." | How charming is Michael Drayton's portrait of the once adored and envied mistress of the mighty Edward ! — " Her hair was of a dark yellow ; her face round and full ; her eye grey, delicate harmony being betwixt each part's proportion, and each proportion's colour ; her body fat, white, and smooth ; her countenance cheerful and like to her condition. That picture which I have seen of her| was such as she rose out of her bed in the morning, having nothing on but a rich mantle cast under one arm over her shoulder, and sitting on a chair, on which her naked arm did lie. What her father's name was, or where she was born, is not certainly known. But Shore, a young man of right goodly person, wealth, and behaviour, abandoned her * " The woefull Lamentation of Jane Shore, a goldsmith's wife in London," &c. Percy's EeUques, vol. ii. p. 279, ed. 1847. That Shoreditch derived its name from Jane Shore is, of course, a popular error. Stow informs us that the name existed at least as early as 1440. Survey, Book v. p. 53. t More's Eichaid III. p. 82. t There is an original picture of Jane Shore in the provost's lodgings at Eton, and another in the provost's lodge at King's College, Cambridge, to both of which foundations she is presumed to have been a benefactress. Granger mentions another original picture of her, which, in his day, was " at Dr. Peck- ard's of Magdalen College, Cambridge," and was formerly in the possession of Dean Colet. Granger also informs us that a lock of her hair, "which looked as if it had been powdered with gold dust," was in the possession of the Duchess of Montagu. Biog. Hist. vol. i. p. 87. .M)H POSTSCKII'T. sovci-cin-n (liniiiiy, ccrhiin it is that the legal parUament, wliicii met .scvt'ii iiiniillis afterwiirds, fully acquiesced in its procedures, iiihI conliiiTied Kidiard's title as King of England. Ncitlici-, us might be conjectured, was tliat parliament a jiacked or a venal one. On the contrary, as Lord Cliancelloi- Canijjbell writes, — "we liave no difficulty in ])r(jnounciiig it tlie i]io-t meri- tcnious national assembly for protecting the lil)erty of the subject and putting down abuses in the admi- nistration of justice, that had sat since tlie reign of h'dward I." * And yet, according to Hume, " never was there in any country a usurpation more flagi'ant than that of Eichard, or more repugnant to every piinciple of justice and pubhc interest." Again, writes the great historian, " his title Avas never acknowledged by any national asscmbl}' ; scarcely even by the lowest populace to whom he appealed." But Avhat was really the state of the case ? Assumintr, for instance, that the bench of bi>li()psmay be selected as havmg fairly repre- sented pro])erty and rank, as well as the integrity and in- telligence of the age, let us ask what was the conduct of the majority of them when Eichard set forth his claims to the sovereign power. Thomas Bom'chier. Arch- bishop of Canterbury, and formerly Lord Chancellor, placed the crown on his liead hi Westminster Abbey. A fcAv weeks afterwards, Thomas Eotheram. .Vrchbishop of York, also formerly Lord Chancellor and "con- sidei'ed to be the greatest equity lawyer of the age," f crowned him at York. John Ivussell. Bishop of Lincoln, — "a wise man and go(id,";j] and one of the executoi"s of Edward IV., — not only consented to retain the Great Seal, but held it till williin about three weeks of • r.diil (';nn|ilicll'.s Lives ofllio Cli.'inoi'llors, vol. i. p. 407. f 11ml. vol. i. ].. ;!'.)7. I Lord ILicdirn K'irluu-d HI. l.oril CnmiilHll also sprnks of Hisliop KiiHsi'll .MM iliMliii};nislic'il lor " uiu'oniinon K';ii"niiig, piciv, and wis- ,l,,in." — /.irr.i of Ihr C/iaiici/loi:-!, p. -101. APPENDIX. 505 had captivated the voluptuous Edward, not a vestige remained. " Albeit," wi'ites Sir Thomas, " some that now see her deem her never to have been well-visaged. Whose judgment seemeth me somewhat like as though men should guess the beauty of one long before departed, by her scalp taken out of the charnel-house ; for now she is old, lean, withered, and dried up, nothing left but shri- velled skin and hard bone. And yet, being even such, whoso will advise her visage, might guess and devise which parts how filled, would make it a fair face." * NOTE. The author takes this opportunity of pointing out an error into which not only he himself has fallen, but which has long been universally prevalent. He refers to an allusion which he has madef to a painting, said to be by Mabuse, at Hampton Court, which is still described ia the catalogue of royal pictures as representing " The Children of Henry VH." The charm, however, which so long at- tached itself to that venerable picture, has been recently dispelled. It has been shown, on high authority, that it represents, not the children of Henry VH., but of Christian II. King of Denmark. As such the picture is described in a catalogue cotemporary with the reign of Henry VIII., and as such, we presume, it will be trans- mitted to posterity. * More's Eicliard III. p. 84. t Antfe, p. 229. *L L 510 POSTSCRIPT. Bishop of Winchester had previously invited Eichard to be his guest at his new foundation, Magdalen Col- lege ; that he honourably entertained him there, and that, at his departure, he caused to be entered on the college register, — " ViVAT EeX in iETEENUM." We will now venture to say a few words in re- ference to the favourable manner in which we find Eichard occasionally spoken of by his contemporaries, compared with the virulent abuse too often heaped upon liim by the succeeding Tudor chroniclers. Thus, in a very interesting contemporary poem, entitled " On the Eecovery of the Throne by Edward IV.," * for which we are indebted to Mr. Wright, occurs the following stanza : — " The Duke of Gloucester, tliat noble prince, Young of age and victorious in battle, To the honour of Hector that he might come. Grace him followeth, fortune and good speed. I suppose he is the same that clerks read of. Fortune hath him chosen, and forth with Mm ■will go. Her husband to be ; the will of God is so." But, doubtless, among the most remarkable encomiums wliich were lavished on Eichard in liis lifetime, were those Avliich emanated fi'om the merciuial priest and antiquary, John Eous. This person had not only been often in the presence of Eifhard, but probably had also often actually conversed wth him. Eo\is, who was born about the year 1411, was one of the chaplains of a chantry at Guy's Cliff, about a mile and a half from Warwick Castle. Ilis principal duties wore to pray for tlu' !i;oo(l estate of the I'^arls of Warwick : liis principal occiipalion was sludviii^- and writing about antiquities. Of the many years which he spent at Cuy's Cliff, * I'lililiciil Poi'iiis iuul Soiig-s, p. 380. POSTSCRIPT. 507 tion stood when Mr. Gairdner, with whose views on the subject the author ventures to express his humble concurrence, thus steps forward as arbiter between the two. " Mr. Nichols' Hjstorical Introduction," he says, " contains some important remarks in correction of Lingard and Sharon Turner, which show how difficult it is to avoid rash assumptions in dealing with this ob- scure portion of our history. It is my desire in these pages to avoid, as far as possible, making statements the truth of which is open to controversy, but one im- portant fact relating to the accession of Eichard III. appears to me to have been misunderstood even by Mr. Mchols. It is known that writs were sent out on the 13th of May for a parliament to meet on the 25th of June. On the 21st of June, however, a writ of supersedeas was received in the city of York to prevent its assembhng ; and Mr. Nichols considers that the parhament did not actually meet, a fact which he says is fiurther declared in the Act of Settlement of the first year of Eichard III. Now the words of that act do indeed declare that there was no true and legal par- hament, but they appear no less distinctly to show that there was the semblance of such a thing. In plain ordinary language, the parhament really did meet, but the meeting was an informal one, and what was done was of doubtful vahdity until confirmed by a parha- ment regularly assembled. Parhament did meet, and the petition to Eichard to assume the crown was pre- sented by a deputation of the Lords and Commons of England, accompanied by another from the city of London, on the very day that had been originally appointed for the meeting." * But, whatever may have been the constitution of the assembly which invited Eichard to assume the * Letters and Papers illustrative of the Reigns of Eichard III. and Henry VII., Preface, pp. xvii. and xviii. ■ ri, 2 8)2 POSTSCRIPT. Tint, fortuiiMlcly, Uk; otlici; or " Mancliester Eoll," ]i;i(l ])ass(M|, as il would .scriii, into oilier, and probably Yorkist luiuds, and thus was pi-cscrved (ioni llous's niutilalions. 'J'lici'c, tlioii, avc find toudicis of Ificliard's rlunactci', sucli as it liad originally, and jirol^aljly con- scientiously, been skctclied by the anti'juan'. There lie is the "mighty ])rin(;(_: in his day, special ^ood loid to the town and lordship of Warwick." Again, he is •' the most victorious prince, King liichard III.;" and, lastly, he is described,almost enthusiastically, a-, — '-In hi.s i-(_'aliii [ruling] full commendably ; jtunishing olFcnders of his laws, especially extortioners and o|i|)rc-~ors fjf hi^ ciim- mons, and clierisliing those that weie virtuous; by the ^s■hich discreet guiding he got gieat thanks of God, and love of all his subjects rich and poor, and great laud of the people of all other lands aljout liim."* Such, let us ho])e, wiLS the true light in which Kichard'.^ kingly charat'ler was viewed Ijy thcpi-iestly antiquaiy of Guy'- Cliff, lious's treatment of the memory oi' the hero-king was, after all, j)robably not \ery dillerent fi-om that of other writers oC the age on suddenly -lindmg them- selves transferred liom the rule of a I'lanlageuet to that of a Tudor. ( )!' these two houses, the former Avas unquestionably the more popular. It wa-. there- fore, ohvioudy the ol)ject of Henry and liis friends to depreciate and revile, as much as possible, the cha- racter of liichard, for the purpose of preventing com- miseratiulii> of, 278, 2H(), L'Sl— 2s:i, 2S4, 2S.->. Briiiiilli'ti', Iiord. iSV'c Do Nesci. lii'oolcc, I'ldwiird Lord ("obhani, 10. Iliiiiiglinni CiLsMi', ll.'ifi, .'li")ll. Bui'kinglmni, Dukc.i ol". !Scc Staf- ford. Burgundy, Margaret, Duchess of, acknowledges Perkin Warbeck to bo the Duke of York, 100, 107. Biitli-r, James, Earl of Wiltshire, beheaded, 4. Byron, Sir .lohn, fights at the battle of Bosworth, 220, 221. T'ade, Jack. His insurrection, 8. (^'a(( sliy. Sir William. A friend and adviser of Richard HI., 110, 200, 201, 2J1. Irges Richard to fly at the battle of Bosworth, 222. Beheaded, 210. Noticed, 128 note. Cecily Neville, Duchess of York. See Neville. , Plantagemt, daughter of Ed- ward IV. Married to John A^scount Welles, 230 note. No- ticed 184, 20.j, .•i24. Charles VIII., Kin;.'- of France, 16-5, 100, 280, 287, I'-O, 2'.X), 311. Cheney, Sir John, Treacherv to Richai-d IIL, 170, 212. "En- countered bv Richard III. at the battle of Bosworth, 221. No- ticed, 321. Chenlet, John. A favourite of the Duke of Brittany, 281, 2>2. Clai-enee, George, Duke of. See Geoi-ge. , Isabel, Duchess of. &i' Isa- bel. Clarendon, Sir Richard. Heroism and death ou the licld of Bos- worth, 210. Clifford, Anne, Coimtess of Dorset, Pembroke and Montgx>merv, 3.5(!. Castle, 3.")5. , Family of. Their ancient blood and illusirious alli- ances, .'v"i.>. •'>•"> 1." Their princely seigniories andcas- tle.s, ;!,").">. .'voO. A race of helves, .'i.'iO — ."i."i8. Family piiiure, by Vim Eyck, .'!.")7. , lli'iiry, Lonl. Death of his fatlun' in battle, 304. BiMuglit up in concealment by shephei-ds, 305 — 300. POSTSCRIPT. 513 We may mention that, in Mr. Gairdner's recent work, to which we have previously alluded, there is a re- markable document * tending to give fearful force to a suspicion which has long existed, that the concession, by which Henry VII. induced King Ferdinand of Spain to consent to the marriage of his daughter Katherine with Arthur Prince of Wales, was the blood of the unfortunate heir of the house of York, Edward Earl of Warwick, son of the late Duke of Clarence. If such be the case, surely the worst sin of the last king of the house of Plantagenet was not greater than that of the first sovereign of the house of Tudor. Erom what we know of the character of Eichard III. in his public capacity, we may fairly presume that, if he miu:dered his nephews, he was at least patriotic enough to have had in view the prosperity of his sub- jects and the tranquillity of his kingdom, as well as the selfish object of personal aggrandizement. Henry, on the contrary, would seem to have been actuated by no more generous motive than that of securing an illustrious aUiance for his son, in order more securely to establish his mushroom race on the throne. * Page 113. Letter from De Puebla, the Spanisli ambassador in England to King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. S18 tNDEX. Dorby Ilouflo, London, 207 note, .'117. Doaraond, " tho old" Countess of, 77, iijipciiili.r. Do Vein, John, Twelfth Earl of Oxfjid, beheaded, 3. , John, ThirU'iiitli ICarl of Ox- ford, attainted, 37. In txile, 40 note, 43, 287. Com- mands the front of the Earl of Richmond's ai-my at Bosworth, 214. Ilia single- handed encounter with the Duke of Norfolk, 210. Godfather to Arthur Prince of Wales, 321,322. Noticed, 187, 223, 327. , Sir Aubrey, beheaded, 3. Devereux, "Walter, Lord Ferrers of Uhai-tlev, killed at the battle of Boaworth, 4, 219. No- ticed, 213. , Anne, Coimtess of Pembroke, 249 iiot<; 274, 270 note. De ^■e^L•i, Henry, Lord Bromflete, , Mnrrrari't, Baroness Clifford, 304, ;)(!."), .'iOCi, 3U8. Devon, Ivirla of See Courtenay. Difrliy, .Sir Simon, doaerta Richard lli.,212, 2!)2. Dighton, John, one of tho mur- derers of Edward X. and hia bro- ther, 101 — 10:!, appriKtix. Ap- pointment conferred upon him, 174. Dominick, a court physician, anec- dote ri'spccting him, 300. l)or,«ct, Marquis of .SVcCirey. DoiifTliiM, Liiily Kathcriuo, married to i'cikiii \\'iirbi'ck, llio. DuilliT, Williiuu, Bishop of Dur- liiun, sani'lioua tlin iisurpnlion of Kidiard III., 1 10, 14(>, oppeiidir. Dyniokr, Sir Ivulicrt, cliiinipiou at llid coronation of Ricluvrd III., I 12. IvIwardlV. ("(lUininiKls llio oi'iitro of the \'(irliist iiniiy ill llin battle of Niirlhanip- ton, 16. Gains the battle of Mortimer's Cross, 20, 33. Succeeds liis father as Duke of York, 33. His accos>ion to the throne, 22, 33. Gains the battle of Tow- ton, 22, 23. His indolence and sensuality, 47, 80, 87. His flight from his lang^- dom, 48, 49. Returns and lands at Ravenspur, 50. Ilia march to London, 50, 51, 53. His great popu- larity with the citizens and their wives, 21, 51, 52, and note. Defeats the Earl of Warwick's army at Bamet, 64, 55. Defeats Queen Margaret's army at Tewkes- bury, 57, 68. Assassination of Prince Edward in his presence, 59 — 61. Ilis tri- umphant return to London, 64,69. .Suspected of having procured the murder of Henry XI., 05, 66. In- vades France, "9. His in- terview with King Louis at Pecquigny, 79, 80. Sijiis the death-warrant of his brother, the Duke of Cla- rence, 83, 84. Bi'imry of his person, 77, 80, and note. Takes a deep interest in the well-being of his children, 90 and note, .107. His death, 8(!, 87. iX\ 312. His fn.sciiiutiiin over women, ST. Reoonoiles rival factions, 89, 'M. His orphans bas- tanlizod by Act of rnj-lia- ment, l.'lli iiolr, 18:!. His owu leptimiu'v disputed, 121, 1.'!2. l:!5 «,>,.. His re- puted uinrriiigro with tho Lndy I'loanor Butler, 120 —122 and im/cs l:!i! note. l>ale of liis birth, 301 note. N'.iliced, 2t!, 94, 95, 98, 119, 277, 2S0, 281. Edward V., born, VSnofe. Succeeds I.\DEX AhKAvr, T>ake of, '"A. Akoek, ./';h/i, i'A>h'/jt of 'W'jrv:'.- U)r, arr'fHUd by Jlk-bad TIL, ] J. ^.■■xn-'A's'iii:-. }ii« usarjiatkflB, 14^, «/»- piwiii: A»h'^^. at tte CflXiriatiwi A OTi'j X <,'vi]J<;, 'l>Ui*!a of Ki':)ixrA TIL I>ok<; of 0)ofj%>!tury, .'^4. Jiichard m>tih Uj uuary h'., i)|■M,4^,^>,^4H,y.)^,•.',u. Ami<; I'hirdii'/iJi'd, S):i.il'/ht/ir (jt VAvwi J v., y^A, %>r,^ -.'M, Ami", d<) Valok, t)j'; Lady of Beaa- Arthur, Vntu^t of W'a)';'^, x'/n of it' nry V'JL J/Ji-, birth and <;i;ri*- tojifig, .'iiJO, .'}2]. Jfi« literary Hf/'MHyVuAimiioiM, i!0o. SJumA Ui KnihiiriM) of Ara^o;j, ■'J-'J'J. ili» dusath, .'JO-2, ;i.'/A ' >otiwJ, A^talJ, Sir Jt-At-rt, Ji^X). AjiiViv, TArmrul, T/.'^i 'jy of Eoclie*- tw. Sajv'.fJori* tL'; uxurjf/nXi'/ii of liKliatd 111, ] 4^^^; a///>'»Ai/.. IJa.'jJi-t'.'r, Half. I'Mnyi xh': Ihibe of Jia';)ij;jt?}jam tf^ J 'J '.bard ILL, I'rHrUfit, Jfett]'; O^ 54. Jfeynard (y^x\':,U, 21 «.riti), Ami';, CooritesfS of AV!aT«d';k, 4/J, -V;, 75. ^, .\J4ir;.'ar'.'t, J>a';)j';5-, of Som«r- »',4, 2-'/;:», and /iwfe. li'rfiiifort, ./'jjfj Duke of ii-'mi'fn':X, irr.xxjA{tdhtir of Jbaay MJ,, '^■'/.), unA wM, 'iVi. , Jvjf/jarj'i \)i>\'j; of H'/m',T^rt:, kilWl atth'; first battk of Ht. AJV-irj-,, 2, 10, "S'AJfM, 0. , Ibany, J>ufe of Soifj';rv;t, beb/*&Kl'jid after th'; battle of Ihixhiaa, 2. 24. >>'oti';Sfe«^Jar;/ari:^, iJ)o/';)j<;ai.),, battle of, 15, ai. ' JiJijDt, Kir ./am';H, 2'i7. Tyiir.U]':, WOlLitm, />';rd, behead/^ 4. , Williani Lord narringUm, ViWi'A at til'.- battk of Wak'i- fjeld, a. 620 INDEX. tion of lior iiiicli", flu' Dulto of ( iliillfCHtcr, .'Jlii. Ar- C'lillljlllllirM liiT llliillllT III tlio Hiiuctimry id Wrnl- inin.stcr, .'Ul', .'il.'t. I'lo- pii.Miil to iiiiiny liiT to tlir illc^ntiiiiato son of Jiisliii]i Slillington, 12.'!. Contraoti-il to the Eai'l (jf Iticlimond, afterwards Hiiii'v VII., '205, 2o8, 2s.|, 2'h.-,, L'h'.i. Quits the sniiftuai-y, 1H4, 194, 314. Richard III. contemplates man'^dng her, 194—201, 314—317. Sent to the castle of Sheriff Iliittnn, 203, 318. In the neiglibnurhood of Bosworth when the battlr was innfrht, 31S. Man-ied to Henry YIL, 299, .'iia Crowned, '.122— .'!2."i. Ceremoiiiiilsob.9oni.'dat her lying-in, .'>20, .''21, .'!27, ."i2S. Her ni'voral cliildrcn horn, .'WO, .■121, .■127— :!;!0, .'i.")2. Her husband's trrat- ment of her, ;119, 325, .■!2l!. Death of her son, Prince .Arthur, 3:il), -331. Ilrr own death and burial, 3;!2. Ilrnry's giief at Iht luss, .■!32. Elcjj}' on her death by Sir Thomas More, .3.';2, ;l:!3. Noti.'.d, 25(;, 2s 1, 290, 297, .-109, 319. Elizabeth Tudor, danrrhtcr of Henry A'll. Her birth and death, 328. , Quern of England, her litc- rai-y attainments, 205. Erasmus, 240, 2lil, 270 note, -".20. JM-Iicr, The, a princely London rosi- dcnrn, 14. Etcm College, 27.^i— 277. I''\i'tcr, Henry Huki' of. "Sl'c Hol- land. Fali'onbridge, The Itastnrd, 09, 72, :i07. I'lrriTM of Chartlrv, Walter Lord. A'cc Devennix. Fifher, .John, Bishop of Rochester, 210, 2(!1. Fitzjame.i, Kirhard, Bishop of Lon- don, 25:1 and Hofi; 'Joi and note. I'jtzwaltir, Lord, 22, :;(!:',. I'l.iiiHf, .MJli'H, one of the murderers of Ivdward \. and the Huke of ■i'ork, 101 — 1 03. Rewarded by Itichard HI., 174. Gillesland, Lord Dacre of. See Dacre. Gloucester, Richard Plantagenet, Duke of. See Richard. Goldwell, James, Li^Lfip of Nor- wich, sanctions the usurpation of Richard HI., 140, 141, appetulix. Grauthuse, Governor of Holland. His visit to the Court of Edward IX., 30.S, 309. Green, John, a confidential pa^ of Richard III., L";'^— 100, 174. Greenwich, Palace of, 322, 32>, 32V1, 330. Grey, Edmund, Lord Grey de Ru- thjTi di'Sert? Henry "\"I. at the battle of Northampton, 16. .Vfterwards Earl .if Kent, 140. , Edward, Mscount Lisle, 129, 140. , Lady .lane, her literary ;io- complishments, 20i5. , John, Loi-d (irey of (iroby, killed at the second battle of St. Albans, 2, , Lady Katherinc, 324. , Sir liichard. His person seized by RichanI HI.. 101, K)2. 10:i. 104. 1(1.".. lO'^. Be- headed at l'omfi\>t, 2. 127. , Thomas, Marquis of Dorset, said to have stubbed Fil\yard Prince of W.iles, at rcNvkobury, (i(t. 02 iioti: Conspiracies against Kichartl III., 102. 180. llscnpcs to Brittany, 182, 281. Takos refiigo in tho sanetumy at AVc^t- niinster, 105. Noticed, 91, 321. Groby, John, Lord Cirey of. Sfv Grey. INDEX. 517 Restored to his titles and estates, 370. His militaiy services, 370. Character, 370. Taste for astronomy, 371. Misconduct of his eldest son, Henry, after- wards Earl of Cumberland, 872, 373. His neglected education, 373. Marriages, 374. Death, 375. Clifford, Henrj'-, First Eaii of Cum- berland, 372, 373, and note. , Henry, Second Earl of Cimi- berland, 354, 356. , John, Lord, HUed at the siege of Meaux, 357. , John, Lord. His vindictive persecution of the House of York, 359, 362. Accused of the cold-blooded murder of the yoimg Earl of Rut- land, 359, 361. Interview of Henry VI. and Margaret of Anjou in his tent, after the second battle of St. Albans, 20, 363. KUled on the morning of the battle of Towton, 363, 364. Noticed, 14 note, 37. , Robert, Lord. Killed at the battle of Bannockburn, 357. , Robert, Lord, served against the Scots, 357. , Robert, fought at Cressy and Poictiers, 357. , Roger, killed, in an action with the Welsh, 356. , Roger, Lord, beheaded at York, 357. , Roger, Lord, served in the wars in France, 357. , Sir Robert, 347. , Thomas, Lord, killed in battle in Germany, 357. , Thomas, Lord. His military services in France, 357, 358. KUled at the battle of St. Albans, 3, 10, 358. Clifford's Inn, London, 356 note. Clifton, Sir Grervoise, killed at the battle of Bosworth, 219—221. Cobham, Lord Edward. See Brooke. Cold Harbour, a princely London residence, 267. Conway, Hugh, a partisan of the House of Lancaster, 259, and note. Oonyers, Sir William, killed at the battle of Bosworth, 216. Coiirtenay, Thomas, Sixth Earl of Devon, beheaded after the battle of Towton, 3, 23. , Henry, Seventh Earl of Devon, beheaded at Sarum, 3. , John, Eighth Earl of Devon, killed at the battle of Tewkesbury, 3, 58. No- ticed, 56. , Peter, Bishop of Exeter, as- sists at the coronation of Richard HI., 140, 141, ap- pendix. Rebels against him, 182. Flies to Brittany, 284. Assists at the coronation of Elizabeth of York, 324. , Sir Edward, 182. Cromwell, Humphrey, Lord. See Bourchier. 'Crosby Place, 106. Dacre, Ranulph, Lord of Gilles- land, killed at the battle of Tow- ton, 3, 23. Davy, Sir Owen, 321, 322. ~ Daubeny, Lord Giles, joins a con- spiracy against Richard HI., 179. De Beaumont, John, Visooimt, killed at the battle of North- ampton, 3. De la Pole, William, Duke of Suffolk, 7, 240, 242. , John, Duke of Suffolk, 242, and note. , John, Earl of Lincoln, 140, 198 note, 309, 321. De Mowbray, John, Duke of Nor- folk, 58. Derby, Thomas, Earl of. See Stan- ley. £22 INDKX. 205—208. Ilis liositation in marrying llm Princoss Eli- zaliuUi, -",IH, I'ilO. Miir- rics hor, L'Dlt, HIS). His trcatim'iiL of hor, lil'.', ;iL'r), .'iL'd. Grief at tlie death of Ilia son, Arthur I'l-imo of Wales, .'i.'lO, .'i;il. (Jricf at tilt' death of Eliza- lii'th, .'ilL'. His allLMtioii for his mother, 200, 21 il. Ilia epistohxry corri.'.s]n mdenccj with her, 2(;l, 2(i2, 2(14 tiiite. His character, 2U0, 300. His last illness and death, 207, 300, 3(11 and jw/r, 302. His children, 302. Perkin AN'arbeck's conspi- racy to dethrone him, IOC, 171. Erects a monument to the memory of Richard III., 220. The guest of the Eaii of Derby at Lathom, .'IIS, 349. Noticed, IDS, 1111), 24S, 202, 344, .347. HenryVlll. Birth, .•i2K. lli.s literary attainiuculs, 205. Noticed, .3211, 333. Earl of Richmond. Sec Henry VII. Herbert, A\^illiam, Eavl of Pem- broke, 248, 240, 273. Bo- headed, 4, 240, and natc. , William, Earl of Hunting- don, 140, 2.i0. , Lady Calhcriue, Countess of Kcut, 190, 290, 201. , Lady Maud, Cuunlcs.-i of Northumberland, 278, 270, 2S(), 2110. , Sir Richard, beheaded, 240. Hexham, Battle of, 24. HocU, Philip ap, 274. Holland, Henry, Earl of Exo(i>r, 14, 25. Howard, .lohn, Duke of Norfolk. aciDMipaiiii's lOdward 1\'. to Eraticc, SO. Creali'il Duko of Norfolk, 1 ir>. in high command at Iho lialtlc of Bosworth, 214. Killed, 21o, 2H5. Noticed, 4, 80, 137, 140, 212, 218, 224 and note, 201. Howard, Tliomaa, Earl of Surrey; his gallantry at the battle of Bos- worth, 210, 217. Account of him, 217 note. Noticed, 140, 145, 214. Ilungerford, Robert, Third Baron, beheaded after the battle of Ilixham, 3, 24, ;i«. , Sir Thomas, beheaded at Salisbury, .3. , Sir A\'iilter, forsakes the cause of Richard HI., 212, 202. At the battle of Bosworth, 220. Huntingdon, William, Earl of. See Ilurburt. Isabel Neville, Duchess of Clarence. Manied to George Duke of Cla- rence, 40. Confined, during a perilous voyage, with her first child, 40. Noticed, 41, 43, 45, 72, 74, 100. James HI., King of Scotland, So, 105, 166, 107 and notf. TV., King of Scotland. 330. John of GiHuit, Duke of Lancaster, 4, 205, 206. Katherine of A'alois, Queen of Henry \". Falls in love with and marries Sir Oweu Tudor, 244. Her children bv him, 244, 245. Her death, 245. Noticed, .328. I'lautngenet, daughter of Ed- \viu\l 1\. Married to A\'illiau> Courtonay, Earl of Devonshire, 254 note. Takes a \ow of celibacy, Ml. Noticed, 184, 295, 314. 310, 329. of .Vvrugoii, (^ucen of Henry VI 11,, .330, ,">.■!.!. Kent, Edmimd, Earl of. See Grey. INDEX. 519 to the throne, 98, 99. Con- ducted from Ludlow Castle to London, 99, 100, 101. Ar- rest of his uncles. Earl Rivers and Sir Richard Grey, 103, 104 His entry into London, 104, 105. Preparations for his coronation, 107. His imprisonment in the Tower, 150, 155—158. Murdered, 160 — 16-3, appendix. His remains discovered in the reign of Charles H., 163, 164. Noticed, 106. Edward VL, his remarkahle erudi- tion, 265. Prince of Wales, son of Henry VI. His birth, 11. An eye-witness of the battle of Northampton, 16. His flight into Scotland vrith his mo- ther, 16. Edward IV. pro- poses to marry him to his daughter Elizabeth, 310, 311. Betrothed to Anne Ne- ville, daughter of the Earl of Warwick, m, 41, 44, 45. His accomplishments and beauty of his person, 46 note. Slain on the field of Tewkes- bury, 50 — 62. His bmial- place, 60 note. Date of his birth, 45, 46 note. No- ticed, 54. Prince of Wales, son of Rich- ard III. His birth, 7.3, 78. King Richard's affections and ambition centred in him, 148. Created Prince of Wales, 149. Walks in procession at his father's coronation at York, 148. The Lords and Commons swear fealty to him as their future king, 183. His death, 193, 194. Earl of Warwick, son of George, Duke of Clarence. Attainted, 82, 118. A prisoner at Sherifi-Hutton, 203, 318. The crown en- tailed on him, 84 note, 108. A prisoner in the Tower of London, 203 note, 263 note. Conspiracies in his favour, 167 — 169, 171. Beheaded, 171. Entrusted to the charge of Margaret, Countess of Richmond, 263. Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of of Edward IV. Takes re- fuge in the sanctuary at Westminster, 48. Removes to the Tower of London, 68. Death of her husband, 86. Incurs the hatred of the aristocracy by the pre- ference shown to her rela- tions, 89 — 91. Seeks to monopolize the guardian- ship of her son Edward V., 92, 99. Again compelled to fly to sanctuary, 105. Ac- cused of sorcery by Richard, 113. Refuses to deliver up the young Duke of York to Richard HL, 115, 116. Her distress at parting with him, 117. Conspires against Richard III., 178. Quits the sanctuary, 184, 314. Her children bastard- ized by Act of Parliament, 183. Her grief at the death of her sons, 154, 155, 313. Her death and burial, 115 note, 328, 329. Noticed, 83, 120, 134, 257, 258, 321. See WoodviUe, fa- mily. of York, Queen of fleniy VII. Her birth and bap- tism, 305. Her childhood, 306—309. The favourite child of Edward IV., 307. Marriages projected for her by her father, 310, 311. Contracted to the Dauphin of France, 311. The mar- riage-treaty broken off by Louis XL, 312. Usurpa- 62i INDEX. 208. FomikIb St. Jiilin's iiiid ( 'Ini.Hl'H ( 'uUrfri'H, Cara- Ijriti^i', I'liO. .'\ccilHr(l of liaiifi-litiiK-.-H, L.'<1H. ll.-rliiHt illiK'K.'i and dciilh, L'lj'.t. I I'T mouuiiiout in Ilinry A'II.'h Cliiipi'l iitWu.sliHiiiHter, I'lJll. OrdiiiiiiKca piTM'riljL'd by her for tliu lyiij^^'-ia of it qiifien, .'WO. Ndliced, :J7. Mai'goi'ot, Diichi'ss of BLirjjmidy, 31, 3-2, 100, 107. , Queen of France, diinylitiT of lieni-y "\'II. Iltr birth, 329. , Queen of Scots, 50, 200. Middleham Castle. Residence of Richai-d Earl of Warwick, 30, 34, 3.J, 38, 78, 193. Mil water, John , esquire to Richard Duke of Gloucester, at the Battle of Bnmet, o4. Montagu, John, ^loi'quis of. dec Neville. Mortimer's t'ross, Bailie of, 33. Morton, Bishop of Ely (afterwards Cardinal and Archbishop of Can- terbury). Account of, 177. His conspiracies aj^ainst Richard III., 177, 178, 2.')."'), 280. AiTestcd and imprisoned, 112, 114. No- ticed, 14."), l.'jCi note. Mowbray, the Lady Anne. Man-ied to the Duke of York, son of Ed- ward IV., 309, Moyle, Sir Thomas, 231, 233. Nesfield, John, 151. Neville, Anne, Queen of England. ■S'cc Anne. , Cecily, Duchess of York. Miilhir of I'^dward IX. and Richard III. Cliarnclor and account of, 2^—32, lirniiiM'.'* licr children (o the l.ciw (\iuntrie.«, .'!.'!. Accused of incouliu(Micy by her siiu, Ibe Duke of Cla- rcuce, 121, l.'!2, 133. Dis- co\ cry of Lor rcuiiuus in the reij.rn of Queen Elizabetn, 37 iiutf. Noticed, 75, 135, .'i()5. Neville. (.'baiirM, beheaded after the battle of Hexham, 2. , Eleanor, wife of Thomas, Lord Stanley, :',:in. , Geiji(.'e, Archbishop of York, 40 noir, 5;;, 7.';. , George, Duke of Bedford, 310.' , Sir Henry, beheaded after the battle of Banbury, 2. , Sir Ilumphr-y, beheaded after the battle of Hex- ham, 2. , Isabel, Duchess of Clarence. .Sir Isabel. , John, Marquis of Montagu. Killed at the battle of Bar- net, 2, 55, 50. Noticed, 24, 4S, 51. , Sir John, killed at the battle of Towton, 2. , Richard, Earl of Salisbuiy. Beheaded after the battle of Wakefield. 2, 19. Noticed, 13, 14, 15. , Richard, Earl of Warwick. Mai-garet of Anjou lays a snare to entrap him, 13. Gains the battle of North- ampton, 10. Defeated at St. .Ylbans. 20. Victorious at the battle of Towton, 22, 23. Instructs Edward TV. and Richard III. in the art of war, 34. Flies to France, 42. Reconciled to Marai- :vtof Anjou, 40 — 45. Loved and respected by Louis XI. of l^'ranoc. 41. Marries his dauglitcr Isabel lo George, Duke of Clarence, 40. Cou- lr.i.-lsliisyoungi.>st daughter, Anue, to I'.ilwanl. Prince of ^Vales, to, 41, II, 4."). En- gages to n>storo the House ot Lancaster to the throne of England, 44. Lands in England and releases Henry INDEX. 521 Guildford, Sii' Eichard, a traitor to Richard in., 179. Harrington, William, Lord. See Bonville. Hastings, William, Lord, the com- panion of Edward IV. in his flight to the Low Countries, 48. Said to have stabbed Edward Prince of Wales at Tewkesbury, 60, 62 note^ The favourite com- panion of King Edward IV., 92, 93. His brilliant qualities, 92. Opposes the ambitious designs of Queen Elizabeth Woodville and her kindred, 99, 100, 106. Staunch in his allegiance to King Edward v., 109—111. AiTested in the eoimeil-chamber at the Tower, 112, 114. Beheaded, 4, 114. Buried by the side of Edward rV. at Windsor, 114, and note. Noticed, 80, «8, 129, 144, 187. Henry VI. Mal-administration of his affairs, 5, 7. Afflicted by a mental malady, 9, 10, 11. Taken prisoner at the battle of St. Albans, 10. Restored to the throne, 12. His army defeated at Blore- heath, 15. Taken prisoner at the battle of Northamp- ton, 16. His army victori- ous at Wakefield, 19, 20. Dethroned, 21,22. Defeated atTowton, 22,23. Concealed in Westmoreland and Lan- cashire, 25. Betrayed to Edward IV. and sent to the Tower, 25, 26. Restored to his throne by the Earl of Warwick, 26, 49. Falls again into the hands of Ed- ward IV., 53. Exposed to the arrows of his friends at the battle of Bamet, 55. His death, 64. Burial, 71. Supposed to have been mur- dered by Richard Duke of Gloucester, 64—70. His prophecy -of the future great- M ness of Henry Earl of Rich- mond, 250, 274, 275. No- ticed, 14, 17, 47, 48, 343. Henrj- VIL Birth, 246, 273, and note. Boyhood, 249, 274. King Henry VI. predicts his future greatness, 250, 274, 275. Said to have been educated at Eton, 276 —277. Edward IV. endea- vours to entrap him, 277. Escapes to Brittany, 277, 278. Falls in love with Lady Maud Herbert, 278. Plis romantic wanderings in Wales, 279. The Duke of Brittany's harsh treatment of him, 280. He narrowly escapes falling into the hands of Edward IV., 281— 283. Conspires against Rich- ard III., 178, 180. Engages to many the Princess Eliza- beth of York, 255—258. His literary pursuits, 283. Sails from St. Malo to in- vade England, 284. Driven back to Brittany, 284. Attainted, 258. Richard III. endeavours to entrap him, 285, 286. Escapes into France, 286, 287. Pre- pares a second expedition for the invasion of England, 287, 288, 289. Sails from Hai'fleur, and lands at Milford, 206, 291. Pro- poses to marry Lady Kathe- rine Herbert, 290. Marches to Bosworth Field, 207, 208, 291, 292. Proclama- tion issued against him by Richard IH., 204, 205. His secret interview with Lord Stanley at Atherstoue, 293, 294. Battle of Bos- worth, 214, 218, 221, 222, 294. Crowned on the field of battle, 223, 224. Crowned at Westminster, 295. His defective title to the crown, M fi2G IXDEX. I'luntnrri'iiit, Margarol, rVnintcBa of Salisbury. Jlulionded, L'04 , Kii-liard, llcilin of Gloucester. Srr l:iilmrJ III. , Kiilinrd, Duke of ^'ork, father of Edward. Ilisclaims to the crown, 7. Charactir, 7, W, Assi-its his claims, W^ il, 10. Appointed Protector, 9. A second time I'rulirtor, 10, 11. Reconciled to the Lan- castrian party, l-J, 14. Takes up arms, 1 0. Successful at the battle of Bloreheath, l.j. And again at North- ampton, 10. ItL-assiits his claim to the throne, 17. Declared successor to King Ikary VI., ^^'. Killed at the battle of Wakefield, 10, ."ilii. Reinterment of Lis remains nt Fut]irTiiif.'ny, ."iO —.".7. Noticed, 1, i2, 1.3, 14, I'O, 1:;l', ' , Richard, Duke of Yurk, son of Edward I\'. Bom, 98 note, 1G9 note. Married when a child to Anne Mow- bray, heiress to the Duke of Xorf..lk, 300, 310. De- livered up by his mother to Richard Duke of filouces- tcr, ll.") — 117. Miudered in the Tower with his brother, IC.Iward Y., bw— ir,8, KlO — l(j.'), appciidi.r. Ills re- mains discovered in the rei^rn of f'liarlrs II., IC'l, Hi4. Xoliced, '.!■<, no. Ques- tion of his identity with I'.rkin Warbeclc, 1 (!."> — 174. , Richard. Natural son of Ri- ihard III., 2m. l.'.nnnntic story of his life, '-'.■11 - ■j:ir). • , dftii;jlilrr,iof Edward \\ . Srr Anno, 111 i. !;/,■(, Crcily, Kullir- riiic, and Mmv. roiijrrrt f'li.sllc, r,l), 7m, Il>7. Ifalililb', .Sir Ricliard. Opposes the marriage of Richard III. ^\ ith Elizabeth of York, 200, 201. Killed at the battle of Do.v.orth.L'lO. Xoticed,211. , liob.Tt, 70. Ri-dman, Jtirhard, Bishop of St. A.aa]jli. Sanctions the usurpation of llirhard III., 140, appendix. Rcni^, King of Sicily, father of .Marf.'aret of Aiijou, 4.% 4.'j. l!i.;haid, Duke of Voik. fiee Plan- taf.'enet. Richard I'lantagf-net, Duke of Glou- cester, afterwards King Richard III. Birth and piir<-nta;.'e, 28. Falls into the hands of the Lan- ca-^trians, 31. Concealed in the Temple, .'il, -Vl. Educated for a short time in the lyow Countries, 3:3. Cr.at. d Duke of Gloncest.-r, 34. The Earl of Warwick lii= pre- ceptor in the art of war, 34. Falls in love with Warwick'? yr.iiii;r>--st daughter, -Ajine XevUle, .;.■;, .39, .0'!. Attends the reinterment of his father at Fotheringay, .30, '17. Lar^'r. possessions conferred upon him by his brother, Edward IV., 37, .'IS. High and responsible appointments held by him, ■3-*. His ability, judgment, and in- ti grity, 30. Escapes with his brother Edward to France, 49. Attainted and outlawed. ."iO. Re- turns from France and lands near Ravin.spur, "ill. Comm.-uids the right wing of the Yorki>t aniiy at the Viattlo of Bamet, 54. llisv.ilour on that i^casion, ib. (Mninmnds the van at the battle of I'rxx lii'sbnrv. .'7. ■""'. .\c'oused of 1m inp one of the fl.s.sa.--ins of I'.dwnnl, Briiue of Wales, 09 — 111'. Ar. nsrd of the murder of Henry \\ , (l| — 70. .\ suitor for the liand of .\nno Xeville, ~0 — 7'J. His courl.ship oppost-d by his biiitliiT. tlu> Diilv.' of Cla- nnr. . 7i'. Kichard di^ciivi-rs her riinccaleil in the garb of a kitchen- maid, 73. Shakspearo's descrip- INDEX. 523 Lancaster, Duke of. See Jokn of Gaunt. Landois, Peter, Treasurer to the Duke of Brittany, 282, 286, 287. Langton, Thomas, Bishop of St. Davids. Sanctions the usurpa- tion of Eichard III., 146, ap- pendix. Lewis, a court physician, 257, 258. Lincoln, John, Earl of. See De la Pole. Lisle, Edward, Viscount. See Grey. London, its military importance in the 15th centuiy, 130, 131. Louis XI., King of France, 41, 43, 44, 45, 79, 80. LoveU, Francis, Lord. Assists at the coronation of Richard III., 140, 143. Appointed Lord Chamher- lain, 145. Charges by the side of King Richard at Bosworth, 219, 322. Noticed, 146, 211. Lucy, Elizabeth, a mistress of Ed- ward IV., 122 note. » Ludlow Castle, 99, 100, 101, 330. Margaret of Anjou, Queen of Henry VI. Delivered of a son, 11. Her contentions with Richard Duke of York, 11, 13, 14. Escapes to Scot- land after the battle of Nor- thampton, 16. Raises an army, 18, 19. Victorious at the battle of Wakefield, 19. And again at St. Albans, 20. Flies to the north, 21. De- feated at the battle of Tow- ton, 22, 23. Defeated at the battle of Hexham, 24. Her adventures with her child after the battle, 24, 25. Escapes to France, 25. Reconciled to the Earl of Warwick, 42 — 44. Con- sents to the marriage of her son with Warwick's youngest daughter, 44, 45. Lands at Weymouth, 56, Hears of Warwick's defeat at Bamet, 66. Raises another army, 57. Defeated at Tewkesbury, 57, 58. Her imprisonment and misfor- tunes, 63, 64. Ransomed and returns to France, 63. Her death, 64. Noticed, 7, 9, 12, 54. Margaret, Queen of Scotland, daughter of HenryVlL, .302. Her birth, 327. Married to James IV., King of Scot- land, 330. Noticed, 329, 333. Beaufort, Countess of Rich- mond and Derby. Her birth, parentage, and education, 2.39, 240. Her piety and virtues, 241, 247, 248, 251, Her literary tastes and ac- complishments, 241 — 243. Pier reverence for learned men, 264. Her suitors, 241. Marries Edmund Tudor, Earl of Richmond, 243, 246. His death, 246. Mar- ries Sir Henry Stafford, 248. Inflicts severe penances on herself, 252, 268. Death of her second husband, 252. Marries Thomas, Lord Stan- ley, afterwards Earl of Derby, 252. Takes a vow of celibacy, 253, 254. As- sists at the coronation of Eichard IIL, 141. Con- spires against him, 177 — 179, 255—259. Attainted, 259. Accession of her son as King Henry VII., 260. Her epistolary correspondence with him, 261, 262, 264 note. She mixes in the amuse- ments and pageants of his court, 262. Stands god- mother to two of his chil- dren, 263. Takes a plea- sure in superintending the education of the young, 263. Her charities and benevo- lent disposition, 264, 266, u M 2 r,-2H rNDEI. I'lizali..tli, VX,-~-:tlJ, nil— .117. itcci ivos intilli^'ciiic of tile Earl of liichmonil's intoiidtd iiiva.siun, L'O.!. lli> proiiijit ami eiicr^.'-etic iiiensurt'S for npclling it, L'Ol, L'd.'i. II.' is.-ue3 II ]injelaiiiation a■',. llich- mond LiniU at Milford, L'<>j. lUchnrd marches from X(ittin2^- ham to encounter him, -'il". Ilis perturbed state of mind on the nip-ht before the battle of Bos-svorth, 2()0, 210. Treachery of his friends, 211—21.?, 21^. Battle of Bosworth, 214—220. Richard's heroism and death, 21-^- 22!\ 221— 22;l. 224. La- mented by the people of the north, 224, 22.5, Indisruitio; heaped on his remains, 22.">. His burial-place and monument, 22.5 — 227. Disputed identity of his coflin. 227, -2s. and note. Old li.'stflry at l.'ir. -trr where he slept before the baitle of I'.os- ■worth, 22^. Ilis camp bedstead imd tniri. al story connected ■n-ith it, 22^. I'-J'.i. and note. Ilis iU.>- ^Htimate children, 2".0. 231. Ro- mantic story of his illeptiraate son. Richard I'lintagenet, 201 — 2:!5. XoiioeJ. 1, 4, 2^0, 2:>0, a52. Richmond, Edmimd, Earl of. See Tudor. . ■, Ilenrr, Earl of, .Sec Ilenrr vii. , Marirar. t. Countess of. .S7i'i. . , The Wars of. Tle^ fearful slmiL')it' r tliey oi'easioned. 1 — 1. RMllierain (or Seottl. I'houuis. .\r,libi.l, .!.nfYorIi,10.-.,112,lH, 111'., M-'.. 1 17. Ci-own^ IJieliard III. at ^ oiK. 1 17, r.ppniilir. Ru'ImU'I, r.diiuiuci, Ivirl of, .S J I'lailljl'.'eMel. Salisburv, Richard, Earl o£ .S^ Neville. , Margaret, Countess of. See Plant aeeriet. .•^andforil, Sir Brian, 212, 202. .s.ivaee, .■~ir Jolm, 212, 214, 202. .Say. r, Willi.iui, 70. .•^liau, Sir Edmund, Lord Mayor of Loudon, 102, 135, and note. , I)r. R.jif. Expounds the Duke ,.f ( .lou.e-ters title to the thron.- at Paul's Cross, ]:J2, 100, 13-5, notet. .Sheritl' Hutton, Canle of, 0*, 7^, 200, .31S. Shore. Jane. 110, 12.-.. appendix. Shrewsbury, llnU of. See Talbot, Sininel. Lambert, 107, 10- and note, ICO. Skiptoii Ca-tle, 7-, 3o.j, 3t>4 noU. Shiuehter, William, one of the k-epers of Edward V. in the Tower of Loudon, l."i7. .Somerset. Dukes of. ■V<= Beaufort. . Mar^^aret, Duchess of. .S1. Notie.^of, 2, 01,02, 0.0, «M, O."., ll>2, 10;l. 117, 120., 127. 121». UO, ll.\ 17i^, 1-7,2-4, .•;i>0. 342. , Iluuiphn-v, Etirl of Devon, I '.headed at Bridgewater, 2. INDEX. 525 VI. from the Tower, 49. His great popularity, 47. Declared Protector, 49. Edward IV. offers him bat- tle, which he declines, 51. Commands the Lancastrian forces at the battle of Barnet, 54. Killed, 55. His corpse exposed to public view in St. Paul's Cathe- dral, 56. Noticed, 2, 14 and note, 15, 26, 38, 41, 305. Neville, Sir Thomas, killed at the battle of Wakefield, 2. Norfolk, Uukes of. See De Mow- bray and Howard. Norres, Sir William, 51. Northampton, battle of, 16, 21. Northumberland, Earls of. See Percy. Owen, Sir Davy, 322. Oxford, Earls of. See De Vere. Parr, Thomas, esquire to Richard, Duke of Gloucester, at the battle of Barnet, 54. Pembroke, Jasper, Earl of,, and Duke of Bedford. /See Tudor. , William, Earl of. See Her- bert. Castle, 246, 247,, 248,. 250, 251, 273, 274. Percy, Henry, second Earl of North- umberland, killed at the first battle- of St. Albans, 2, 10. , Henry, third Earl of North- umberland, killed at the battle of Towton, 2, 23. Noticed, 14 note. , Henry, fourth Earl of North- umberland. Serves against the Scots in 1482, 85. False to Richard III. at the battle of Bosworth, 217, 218. No- ticed, 127 note, 140, 225. , Sir Ralph, killed at the battle of Hedgeley Moor, 3. , Sir Richard, killed at the battle of Towton, 3. Percy, Thomas, Lord Egremont, killed at the battle of North- ampton, 3. Noticed, 14 note. Plantagenet, Anne, Duchess of Exeter, 182 note. , Edmund, Earl of Rutland, killed by Lord Clifford at the battle of Wakefield, 1, 87 note. Afffecting story of bis death, 359—361. , Edward, Earl of Warwick. See Edward. , Elizabeth, Duchess of Suf- folk, 198 note. , George,, Duke of Clarence. Concealed in the Temple, 31, 32., Created Duke of Cla- rence; 34. Marries Isabel Neville, daughter to the Earl of Warwick, 40, and note. Turns traitor and flies the kingdom, 40, 44. Declared with Warwick joint Pro- tectors of England, 49. The crown settled upon, and his descendants, 84, and note. Deserts Wai'wick, 51. Said to have been one of the assassins of Edward Prince of Wales at Tewkesbury, 60, 61, 62 note. Misunder- standing with his brother, Richard Duke of Glouces- ter, 72 — 74. Richard ac- cused of having procured his death, 81, 84. Charges his mother with inconti- nency,, 84,. 124, 135 note. Noticed, 26, 34, 35, 43, 45, 92, 132, 135 note. , John, of Gloucester. Natural son of Richaa-d III., 230. , John, Duke of Lancaster. See John of Gaunt. , Dame Katherine. Natural daughter of Richard III., 230. Married to WiUiam Herbert, Earl of Hunting- don, 230, 231. , Margaret, Duchess of Bur- gundy. See Margaret. 3 S30 INDEX. Talbot, Oeorgo, Earl of Shrewsbury, '2'M. , Thomas, Lord LIhIi', IuIIimI at AN'iitlun-under-lOilt,'-!', .''. , Sir (:iirislii|iber, killed at tho battle of Ndrlliiiiiipton, .3. , Sir tiilbert, in liif-'li (-om- niand at the buttle of Bosworth, 214. Single-bnuded L-ncoiiiil(;r with Earl of Surrey, 210, 217. Nutiee.l, 167, 2U2. Temple, fte, London, 31, 32. Tewkesbury, battle of, 57. Thomas, David, 277. Thomas, Morgan ap, 277. Thomas, Sir Rice ap, 291. Tiptoft, John, Earl of Worcester, beheaded, 4. Touch et, James, Lord Audley, killed at the battle of Blore- heath, •", I'l. Tower of London, 47, G3, 04, 07, OM, 72, 100—104 and note, 171, 203 note, 307, 322, ;;:!2. Towton, battle of, 22, 23. Tudor, Arthur, I'rinco of Wnlr.'i, son of Henry ^'1I. Hee Artliur. , Edmund, Earl of Richmond. Rise of his family, 243. ^larries Margai-et, heiress of John Beaufort, Dulie of Somerset, 241, 243, 240. His death and funeral mo- nument, 240. Noticed, .".7. . , Edmund, son of Ileniy Vll., 302, 320. , Elizabeth, daughter of Henry VII., 32.-t. , IleniT, Earl of Richmond. .SVcili'iiry VIL , Jasper, V.:n\ of Pembroke and Hiike of K.dronl. Kisr of his family, 2(3. Di'lratod nt the battle of MortiuuM-'s f'ros.H, 20. An i-xile in Froiirc or Bridnny, 4.3, 277, 27.-^, 2S0, 2s7. Assi.sla II. my VII. at tho baltUi of Bosworth, 21.',, 22.3. Created Duko of Bodfoi-d, .323. Xoticrd, 4.3, 66, 245, 247—200, 2oH, 27.3, 274. , Katherine, daughter of Heniy \'II., .3.32, .3.3.3. , Miirgiiri't, daughter of Henry \ll. See -Margaret , Mary, daughter of Henry \'II. iSee Mary. , Meredith, 213. , .'^ir Ouen. Ills gallantry at the biittli- of Agincourt, 24.3, 241. (^iir■<, 101, 102, 170. Rewards con- fen-ed upon him, 174. No- ticed, ajipendir. , Sir Thomas, 160. Urswicke, Christopher, 2.30, 286. Vaughan, Roger, 277. , Sir Thom:i?, arrested and beheaded, 104, 127 and note. Wakefield, battle of, 32. A\arbeclf, Perkin, 10^3-173, 203 note, .347. Wimvick, Anne, Countess of. See Boauehamp. CMvtle. 140, 147. 1.30. , Earls of. -Vi Edward, Ne- ville, and Plantaginiet. Wars of the Ro.-es. The irre:it ,>^biufrhter which they occasioned, 1—4. Wnynlleic, William de. Bishop of \\ iuehestiM', siinetioiis the USIUT- paliou of Richaxxl III., 140, ap- pniili.i-. Welles, Jolui, Lord, 182, 239 note. , Leo, Lortl, killed at the batUe of Tovnon, 3, 23. INDEX. 527 tion of his wooing her, 70. Marries her, 73, 74. Birth of their son, afterwards Prince of Wales, 73. Richard's disagreements with Clarence, 74, 75. His personal appearance and alleged defor- mities, 75 — 78, appendix. Re- sides principally in the north of England, 78, 79. Respected in the north for his virtues and good government, 78, 148, 202, 224. Accompanies the inva- ding army to France, 79. Re- fuses the brihes of the French king, 80. His patriotism, 81. Accused of having compassed the death of Clarence, 81 — 84. Commands the army of invasion in Scotland, 85, 8G. His posi- tion greatly affected by the death of Edward IV., 88, 03. Left by Edward the guardian of his children, 94. Injustice of the charges brought against him by the old chroniclers, 59, 94, 95. Circumstances which led to his aspiring to the crown, 95 — 98, 107—109. His statecraft, 98—98, 109. Resolves to crush the poli- tical power of the queen and her relatives, 100, 102. Swears alle- giance to his nephew, King Ed- ward v., 101. Quits the north and reaches Northampton, 101, 102. Arrests Earl Rivers and Sir Richard Grey, 102, 104. Conducts Edward V. to London, 104, 105. Richard's gi'eat popu- larity, IOC, 107, 125, 128, 132. Invested with the protectorship, 106, 107. Fails in his attempt to seduce Hastings from his loyalty, 110, 111. Remarkable scene in the Council Chamber at the Tower, 112—114. Causes Hastings to be arrested and exe- cuted, 114. Induces the queen to deliver up to him her second son, the Dulce of York, 115 — 117. Disputes the legitimacy of his nephews, 120—123. Sum- mons an armed force to Lon- don from the north, 126, 127, 202 note. Execution of Rivers and Grey, 127, 128. Richard's design on the crown approved of by the Lords spiritual and tem- poral, 120, 147, 148. He causes his title to the throne to be ex- plained to the people at Paul's Cross, 132, 133. And again at Guildhall, 133—135. Invited by Buckingham and others to ascend the throne, 135, 137. Proclaimed king by the title of Richard III., 137. His meritorious acts on his accession, 137, 138, 144, 145, 149. His usurpation generally approved of by his subjects, 138, 139. Elis coronation, 140—143. His progress through a part of his dominions, 145 — 147. His second coronation at York, 147, 148. Suspected of having mur- dered his nephews, 149, 150, 153, 154. The Duke of Buckingham and others conspire against him, 151—153,177—180. The fate of Edward V. and his brother, 155 — 164, appendix. Reasons for be- lieving that Richard murdered them, 165, 168, 173—177. Buck- ingham's insurrection and death on the scaffold, 180, 181. Ri- chard's progress to the west of England, 182. Calls a Parlia- ment which confirms his title to the crown, 182, 183. liis merits as a king, 185. Patronises learn- ing, 185, 186. His tastes and amusements, 186. Kindness to women, 187, appendi.v. In high favour with the clergy, 187. His remorse and superstitious fears, 188, 189. His princely endow- ments and charities, 189 — 192. His affliction at the loss of his only child, 192 — 194. Keeps his Christmas at Westminster, 194, 195. Accused of having poisoned his wife, 195 — 197. Proposes to marry his niece, the Princess LOK DON PBINTBD BY 6POTTI8WOOD B AND CO. HEW-STBEEI SQUA.BB INDEX. 529 Staflord, Sir Henry. Marries Mar- garet Beaufort, Countess of Eichmond, 248. His death, 252. , Humphrey, Earl of Killed at the first hattle of St. Albans, 2, 10. , Edward, Earl of Wiltshire, 140. Stanley, Lord, afterwards first Earl of Derby. A partisan of King Heniy VI., 26, 338. Attaches himself to King Edward IV., 338. Lands in France with the army of invasion, 338. In high com- mand at the invasion of Scotland, 85, 339. Marries the Lady Eleanor Keville, 338. Loved and trusted by Edward IV., 93, 338. Marries Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond, 252, 253, 339. Arrested and im- '^ ' prisoned by King Richard III., 114, 339. Released and taken into favour, 144, 340, 341. Richard suspects him, 341, 343 ; seizes the per- son of his son, Lord Strange, 343 and note, 344. Inter- view with Henry, Earl of Richmond, before the battle of Bosworth, 293, 294, 34-5. Conduct at the battle of Bosworth, 208, 212, 218, 223. Places the crown on Richmond's head, 224, 337, 345. Honours, titles, and appointments confeiTed on him, 345, 346. Created Earl of Derby, 345. High Steward at the coronation of EKzabeth of York, 346. Godfather to Arthur Prince of Wales, 321, 322, 346. Execution of his brother. Sir William Stanley, 347, 348 and note. King Henry his guest at Lathom, 348, 349. Death and buiial, 349, 350. Character, 92, 93. No- ticed, 112, 140, 253, 255, 317, 318,321,327,337,349,350. Stanley, Sir William, a partisan of the House of York, 51. Takes Queen Margaret pri- soner, 63. His conduct at the battle of Bosworth, 208, 212, 218, 222. Ac- cused of abetting Perkia Warbeck's conspiracy, 166, 170. Executed,«47— 349. Noticed, 51, 166, 343 note, 344, 345. , George, Lord Strange, de- tained by Richard HI. as a hostage for the loyalty of his father. Lord Stanley, 208, 213, 214, 293, 340 note, 345. , Thomas, Bishop of Sodor and Man, 349, 350 note. St. John, Anne, marries Henry Lord Clifford, 374. , Sir John, 263. St. Leger, Sir Thomas. Married to Anne, sister of Edward TV., 182 note. Executed, 182. StUlington, Robert, Bishop of Bath and Wells. Accoimt of, 119, 123, 124. Sent ambassador to the Duke of Brittany, 119, 281, 282. Charged with treason and imprisoned, 120. His evidence bastardizes the children of Ed- ward IV., 120—123. Fate of his illegitimate son, 123. His death, 124. Stoner, Sir WiUiam, 126 note. Strange, George, Lord. See Stanley. Suffolk, Dukes of. See De la Pole. Surrey, Thomas, Earl of. See Howard. Swynford, Catherine, mistress, and afterwards wife, of John, Duke of Lancaster, 295, 296. Talbot, John, Earl of Shrewsbury, killed at the battle of Northampton, 8, 16. INDEX. 531 Welles, Richard, Lord, beheaded, 3. , Sir Robert, beheaded, 3. Wenloclc, John, Lord, killed at the battle of Tewkesbury, 3, 58. Noticed, 40. Westminster Abbey, 22, 116 note, 138, 139, 140, 269, 295, 319, 323, 324. Hall, 17, 22, 117, 137, 141 — 143, 322, 323, 346. , Palace of, 194, 195, 203, 305, 309, 314, 319, 327. , sanctuary at, 314. Widville. See Woodville. Wilford, Ralph, 169. Willoughby, Sir Robert, 319. Wiltshire, Earls of. See Butler and Staiford. Winchilsea, Earls of, 234. Windsor Castle, 52 note, 114, 115 note, 203, 308, 319, 324, 328, 329, 339. Woodville family, their gi-asping and inordinate ambition, 89, 90, 91. Theii' attempt to gain possession of the per- son of Edward V., 92, 102, 103. Their projects de- feated by Richard III., 102 — 105, 126, 127. , Anthony, Earl Rivers, 2, 83, 91, 92,99, 101—105,109. Beheaded, 127, 138. His will, 127 note. , John, 91. , Lionel, Bishop of Salisbury, 180, 182. , Richard, Earl Rivers, 2, 91. , Sir Edmund, 285. Worcester, John, Earl of. See Tiptoft. Wydville. See Woodville. York, Dukes of. See Plantagenet. , Cecily, Duchess of. See Neville. THE END.