*CHAPTER VI.*
*THE MIST ON EASTER DAY.*
"Such a day, An old man sees but once in all his time." --EDWIN ARNOLD.
In vain the "King-Maker" waited at Dover for the Queen. The west windwhich had fallen a little in London, and thus excited their hopes, setin with more violence than before, and Marguerite, notwithstanding heragony of impatience, was bound hopelessly at Harfleur.
But though winds and waves fought against the coming of her who was sosorely needed, they seemed powerless to deter him against whose returnall Lancastrians were praying. Backed by the secret machinations of theDuke of Burgundy, Edward embarked at Ter Veere on the second of March:and after twelve days' tossing, landed at Ravenspur on the fourteenth ofthat month. Did it strike him as a parallel coincidence that under thesame circumstances, and at the same place, seventy years before, Henryof Lancaster had landed, softly announcing to the populace that he hadno designs upon the Crown, and came only to recover his own inheritance?Probably it did, for he imitated his predecessor's tactics in everyparticular. He came only to secure his duchy of York, as he sweetlyassured the people of Holderness when they opposed his landing. Surelythey would allow him to proceed to his own property--to his own city? Hewas the truest subject King Henry had, nor would he ever have beenotherwise but for the inciting of that wicked Earl of Warwick. He stuckthe ostrich feather in his cap--the badge of Prince Edward,--andsolemnly swore eternal allegiance to King Henry. The honest folks inHolderness were completely won by this fine-spoken man. They fell back,and let him ride on to York.
But York was held by a Clifford,--sternest of all families adherent tothe House of Lancaster. It was the head of that House--the "BloodyClifford,"--who, just ten years before, had gleefully cut off the headof Edward's father, had crowned it with a paper crown, and set it highon Micklegate Bar. He, too, had stabbed young Rutland--the best of theYork brothers--in cold blood after the battle of Wakefield. As Edwardcame up to York, the ghastly heads upon Micklegate Bar, the foremost ofwhich was his own father's, seemed to be the only friends to welcomehim. But though Edward could assume sentiment exquisitely, when heexpected it to pay, he was not in reality much under its influence.There was no softening at his heart when he rode up to Micklegate, andsounded his horn for a parley, and proudly desired York to open hergates to her Duke. The old Lord Clifford would have known better thanto rest any faith on the fair words of the Rose of Rouen. But hiskinsman Mr. Thomas was not so wary. He consented to a parley. And whenEdward, at the close of his eloquent and well-studied speech, ended byflinging up the ostrich-feathered cap into the air, with the loyal cryof "A, King Harry! A, King and Prince Edward!" the Governor andcitizens of York were won. Beguiled, not conquered, they offered to lethim pass southward on condition that he would swear his allegiance.Edward, Jesuit to the core, was ready to swear any thing. Had theypromised to escort him to London with an army on condition of hisswearing to restore the worship of Jupiter, the probability is that hewould have accepted the oath with graceful complacency. Micklegate wasthrown open, and Edward with his band passed through, and marchedtowards London.
The reconquest of England was an easier matter to Edward of York than ithad been to Henry of Lancaster. Three months had elapsed between thelanding and coronation of the former; one was enough for the latter.There were traitors in the Lancastrian camp, whose hearts were alwaysready to desert, and who only required to hear that Edward had landed toinduce an immediate and public declaration in his behalf. Foremost ofthese was the heavily perjured Clarence, with whom his sister ofBurgundy had been secretly tampering. Edward was now at the head of avery small band, consisting of nine hundred English and three hundredFlemings. With him were his faithful friend Lord Hastings, Lord Say,and a few more distinguished persons. But by the time he came toNottingham, Sir William Stanley and Sir William Norris had joined himwith four hundred more; and with men slowly coming in to him along theline of march, he arrived at Leicester. Here was Warwick waiting forhim. A battle was imminent, when letters from Clarence reached Warwick,stating that he was on his way from London to join him, and begging himnot to fight until he came. Warwick committed the fatal blunder ofcompliance. Humanly speaking, had he engaged in battle at once, theprobability is that Edward would have been easily driven out of England.
It was not until the 25th of March that the news of Edward's landingreached London. The language of the grant of Tutbury and many othermanors to Clarence on the 23rd, intimates that no such information hadreached King Henry on that day. But on Lady Day a proclamation wasissued appointing Clarence, Warwick, and others, to gather the King'ssubjects and to defend the kingdom, "against our enemies and adversariesof Flanders, Burgundy, and other parts, by the excitation, procuration,and inducement of our great adversary and rebel, Edward, of late thefalse, traitorous, and usurping occupant of our crown and dignity."[#]Two days later, the young Prince of Wales was created Viceroy of Englandagainst "Edward our rebel, who, with subjects of Burgundy and Flanders,has landed in the north."[#]
[#] Patent Roll, 49 Hen. VI.
[#] Patent Roll, 49 Hen. VI.
This is the only occasion on which the language used by, or in the nameof, Henry VI. departs from the calm dignity which characterises it onall others in making mention of Edward IV. Edward can never allude toHenry without a spiteful addition of "late in dede and nat of ryghtKing:"[#] but Henry's allusions to Edward are always content with,"Edward IV., late _de facto_ King of England." There is a kind offeverish spite about Edward's notices of his rival, which is exchangedfor quiet matter-of-fact in his rival's notices of him. It is easy tosee that Henry had the better title--because he makes so little fussover it!
[#] Ib., 9 Edw. IV. and many others.
Late on the evening of the 10th of April, George Neville, Archbishop ofYork, sat writing in the Bishop of London's Palace. To this place theCourt had been removed, under the impression that the City would beeasier to defend than the less protected town of Westminster. In anadjoining chamber King Henry slept the quiet sleep of the just, with hisLatin Psalter[#] lying on the table beside his bed. The Archbishop hadpaused in his writing, and was thinking deeply, his head resting on hishand; "when a slight sound caused him to lift his eyes, and he looked upinto the unexpected face of Master John Shorter, sometime varlet of thechamber to King Edward IV.
[#] This Latin Psalter, originally the property of Richard II., andafterwards of Henry VI., is now in the British Museum (Cott. MS.,Domit., A., xvii.), a beautifully illuminated and most interestingvolume.
"Whence camest thou?" was the astonished query.
"Out of the street," said Shorter, drily.
"To what end?"
"To tell your Lordship a thing."
"What thing? Prithee, have on with thy matters, and be done. I ambusy."
"Your Grace may yet be busier, when King Edward cometh."
"My Lady Saint Mary! What mean you?"
"I left him, my Lord, on the hither side of Herts."
"Gramercy! When?"
"This morrow at day-break."
"Is he on his way to London town?"
"Certes, my Lord."
The Archbishop's face might have furnished, not one, but several studiesfor a painter, as successive and diverse emotions swept across it.Foremost was the true Neville sentiment--How will this affect _me_? Hewas silent for a moment, pondering that deeply interesting question.
"Did he send thee to me?"
"He did so, my good Lord."
"What would he have of me?"
Shorter came close to the desk, and quietly laid down before theArchbishop a parchment to which a seal was affixed. It was a document,couched in highly flattering terms, addressed by Edward, by the Grace ofGod King of England and France, and Lord of Ireland, to his dearlybeloved and faithful, the Most Reverend Father in God, George, by Divinepermission Archbishop of York, conveying his royal pardon to the saidArchbishop, for all
treasons, felonies, and offences whatsoever,committed before the thirteenth day of April, 1471. In other words, theArchbishop was pardoned beforehand for the sins of the three days nextensuing. Some people might have felt puzzled as to the ulterior meaningof such a document. Not so Archbishop Neville. He comprehended toperfection that he was expected to purchase that parchment, by sometremendous act of service still to be performed, and requiring officialforgiveness from the _de facto_ sovereign.
"What would he?"
An expressive pantomime from Shorter pointed first to the door of KingHenry's chamber, then to a bunch of keys which lay on the desk, andlastly to the prelate himself. The latter pursed up his lips for amoment.
"Rather ugly work!" he muttered, as if to himself.
"Necessity," shortly suggested the messenger.
"Where?" was the equally short answer.
"Here. There is, of course, one unconvenient matter."
The Archbishop looked up for explanation.
"That all suspiciousness may be diverted from your Grace, it shall beneedful to arrest you with the other."
A nod of intelligence from the Archbishop.
"Your captivity shall be matter but of a few days."
The prelate nodded again.
"Go you back to His Highness?"
"I have first to speak with Master Recorder, which hath promised me thekey of Aldersgate."
"Ha!--when shall this matter be?"
"Maundy Thursday, in the even. 'The better day, the better deed.'"
The Archbishop received the wicked proverb with a grim smile. "Verygood: I undertake it."
"I thank your Grace for my master. God give you good even."
"The peace of Christ be upon you! Amen."
Which benediction really meant the expression of a wish that thediabolical bargain just concluded might not be successful, for surelythe last thing likely to come upon its actors was the peace of Christ.
Another sort of peace they had. The City was perfectly calm, and itsguardians utterly unsuspicious, when on the following night, Mr.Urswick, the Recorder of London, came down with a few more toAldersgate, and quietly let in about a dozen men who were waitingoutside. They were wrapped in long cloaks, in which they muffled theirfaces; and, accompanied by Urswick, they took their way to the Bishop'sPalace. Behind the postern door the Archbishop's servant was waiting,and they were allowed to enter as silently as possible.
Upstairs, in the royal chamber, King Henry sat with that devout prelatewho has been already mentioned. They had been discussing politicalmatters for a short time, and then the King, turning to a subject morecongenial to himself, had requested the Archbishop's opinion as to themeaning of a passage in the Psalms. Both by intuition and education,George Neville was about as well fitted to judge of the meaning of KingDavid as a snail to decide the intentions of an eagle. But he was apriest; therefore of course he must be competent to expound Scripture.The prelate began glibly to explain that of which he had not theremotest idea, and the King meekly to receive instruction on a subjectwith which he was far better acquainted than his instructor. The notionthat he could be better than any body in any possible sense, outside themere fact of social position, never occurred to the mind of King Henry,one of the humblest Christians that ever breathed.
A slight click of the door-lock made the prelate look up. The King wastoo much interested in his subject, and his head was bent over thePsalter. In the doorway stood the Recorder of London, and several otherswere dimly visible behind him. The traitor knew that the hour of histreachery had come.
"What is this?" he exclaimed, with well feigned astonishment. "MasterUrswick, who be these with you? The blessed saints be about us!Treachery, my gracious Lord, treachery! Here is my Lord of March!"
Aye, treachery enough! Henry lifted his head, rose, and confrontedEdward with a steady gaze as he came forward boldly into the room.
They stood fronting each other, the two Kings, the cousins and rivals,each of whom saw in the other an unprincipled usurper. Only, in the onecase, the conviction was a calm certainty that the thing was so, and inthe other a feverish determination that it must and should be.
"What dost thou here in my place, thou rebel?" was the insolent demandof Edward, who had sworn many an oath of allegiance to the man whom headdressed.
"I am here in mine own, as God wot," was the dignified reply. "Whatwould you with me?"
Edward turned to his followers without deigning a reply. "Take therebel," said he, "and this priest with him."
The Archbishop, with well counterfeited terror, began to implore mercy.The King asked none, nor did he waste another word on Edward. He liftedhis calm dark eyes heavenward, and merely said, to the sole Friend whowas with him, "_Fiat voluntas Tua!_"
An hour later, he was once more secured in his old dungeon in the Tower.
The gates of London were thrown open, and the northern army of Edwardpoured into the City. The Sanctuary was visited, and the Countess ofMarch and her infant son, now suddenly become the Queen and the Prince,were installed in Westminster Palace with fitting ceremony. The reignof Henry VI. was over, and the eleventh year of Edward IV. had begun.
The restored monarch was grace and graciousness to all around him.While he took care to propitiate and make friends of those who hadhitherto been enemies, Edward did not, like his descendant Charles II.,commit the fatal mistake of overlooking and neglecting to reward hisfriends. He gave away twenty tuns of wine (not forgetting to spend someL2800 on himself), replaced his old officers in their respective statepositions, and made up for the forced abstinence and shabbiness of hisrecent life by buying a new service of plate, ordering twenty-one goldcollars (doubtless for presents to his friends who had proved faithfulin adversity), purchasing horses, and providing six new and gorgeousgarments--a robe of tawny satin, a doublet of purple satin, two jacketsof cloth of gold, and two "habits" of black damask and crimsonvelvet--for his wardrobe. He further expended in alms the munificentsum of L3 3*s*. 4*d*. The Queen does not appear to have required anynew clothes, since provisions and wood are alone bought for her.[#]
[#] Issue Roll, Easter term, 11 Edw. IV.
So quietly had this mighty reversion of state affairs been effected,that the citizens of London were unconscious that any thing washappening until they saw the army of Edward IV. marching along theirstreets. Then, of course, it was too late to express an adverseopinion, had they wished to do so.
The necessary imprisonment of that honourable man, Archbishop Neville,extended only to a few days. He was received into favour on the day towhich his pardon reached, but was not released from the Tower until alittle later.
And then, when it was too late, the wind changed. Three times had QueenMarguerite set forth from Harfleur, and three times was she driven backon the French coast. Now, just when all was over which her coming mighthave prevented, on the 24th of March, she was able to embark, and shelanded at Weymouth on Saturday night, the 13th of April, which wasEaster Eve. Can we come to any conclusion but that of the contemporaryletter-writer, that "God hath showed Himself marvellously like Him thatmade us all, and can undo again when Him list?" It was not immediatelyupon landing that the mournful news of her husband's capture anddeposition met her. The news was to be far worse before it should reachher. She proceeded inland about thirteen miles, as far as the Abbey ofCerne, and there awaited the ceremonies of Easter. The Prince was withher--unconscious of his proclamation as Viceroy of England, as well asof the downfall of all his hopes--the Princess, and their respectivesuites.
While Marguerite and her companions knelt at mass that Easter morning inthe chancel of Cerne Abbey, with the last hope springing in their heartswhich they were ever to know, scenes very unbefitting Easter-tide weretaking place in and near the metropolis.
No sooner had Warwick heard of the return of Edward than he came dashingdown from the north, and with Exeter,[#] Somerset, Montague, Oxford, andforty thousand men, marched to take the field at Barnet. Exeter
andSomerset wished to wait until the Prince should come up, as they hadheard of his landing: but this Warwick refused to do. He was doubtfulof the good faith of Somerset, who had ere this shown himself remarkablydevoid of that quality; to which motive on Warwick's part Comines addsanother--"the hatred he bore to Queen Marguerite."
[#] Where and when Exeter had joined Warwick we have no information. Itis only known that he was in London on the 14th of February, and that hecame with Warwick from the north on the 13th of April.
As soon as Edward heard of Warwick's approach, he and his brother ofGloucester went out to meet him. They took with them carefully oneperson whom they might have been expected to leave behind. This was KingHenry. Was there in the minds of the royal brothers of York anysinister intention of exposing their rival to the fate of Uriah theHittite? Had Henry fallen, perchance by a stray shot from his own side,would the pair have mournfully and hypocritically condoled with eachother on the fact that "the sword devoureth one as well as another?"
The little town of Barnet was occupied by Edward, Warwick remaining onthe plain without.
Late on that Saturday night, without any previous despatch of a herald,as was usual, to request an interview, the Duke of Clarence, encamped onGladmore Heath, received a visit from his brother of Gloucester. Theyheld a long conversation; after which Clarence returned with Gloucesterto the town, and humbly implored pardon from his brother Edward. He waslikely to be welcomed and forgiven, for he brought with him twelvethousand men. This little business arranged, Clarence sent a message toWarwick, informing him of the very interesting occurrence which had justtaken place, and offering to make peace for him also. The envoyreturned with an answer from Warwick which breathed scorn in everysyllable.
"I choose rather," said the King-Maker, "to be consistent with myselfthan to follow the example of thy perfidy!"
The night was now wearing towards morning--the morning of Easter Sunday.But no sun danced, nor even shone, upon that awful Easter Day. At fouro'clock in the morning the armies met, but in so thick a mist that noman could see the banner of his feudal lord. Since the battle ofMortimer's Cross, where three mock suns had been considered a happyaugury, Edward had borne as his badge a sun with rays: and the Earl ofOxford's men, mistaking this sun for the star of the Veres, made theblunder of the Midianites, and turned their arms against each other.They engaged with Warwick's men, and a cry of "Treachery!" was raised byboth sides. Oxford fled, carrying with him eight hundred men. At thisjuncture Montague (another "honourable man"), who had been in privatecorrespondence with Edward ever since he landed, thought it time to turncoat, and did so literally, donning Edward's livery under cover of themist. But some of Warwick's men caught a glimpse of the hated blue andmurrey, and falling upon Montague, exacted the penalty of his treacheryin his life. Warwick saw that the field was lost. Montague was dead;Exeter was not to be found; Oxford had fled the field. He mounted hishorse, and tried to make his own escape through the intricacies of aneighbouring wood. Even here fate met him in the persons of two ofEdward's men, who after a short sharp struggle, unhorsed and slew theforemost man of their age--the man who, more or less, for twenty yearshad had all England at his bidding.
It was now four o'clock in the afternoon. King Edward--king in a sensehe had never been till then,--as the first regal act of his restoration,took his revenge upon the commons of England for their Lancastrianproclivities. Hitherto, following the ancient humane custom peculiar tothis country (a source of considerable astonishment to French generals),after a battle, Edward had been accustomed to mount his horse, and cryloudly over the field, "Quarter for the commons!" The nobles and gentryof the defeated side were of course put to the sword. But at BarnetEdward forsook his usual custom. He mounted, indeed, but he left thecommons quarterless to the fury of his soldiers, and he spurred fast toLondon.
That evening, after Edward had entered his metropolis in triumph, KingHenry was brought, attired in a long gown of blue velvet, from the fatalfield of Gladmore Heath, to that silent dungeon in the Tower which hehad occupied so long that it must have borne almost a homelike look tohim, and which he was never to leave again, except for the better Homeabove.
When the military grave-diggers came to bury the dead, they found lyingon Gladmore Heath the body of the Duke of Exeter. He had foughtmanfully, and had fallen at seven o'clock, since which time he had laininsensible on the field. They took him at first for dead: but oncareful consideration they came to the conclusion that life was notquite extinct. The party of workers were either Lancastrians, or theywere for their time inexplicably tolerant and humane. Instead ofstamping out the little spark of life, they respected it, and carriedthe Duke to the house of one Ruthland, an old servant of his own, whonursed his master back to that life which was worth so little to him.He was then, on the 26th of May, carried a prisoner to Westminster,where he was allowed the service of a chaplain, cook, page, and varlet,with three servants to wait on them. He was detained in this captivityuntil the fifteenth of September.[#] Six shillings and eightpence perweek were allowed for the Duke's board, two shillings for the chaplain,twenty pence each for the cook, page, and varlet, and sixteen pence eachfor the inferior domestics.
[#] Issue Roll, Easter term, 11 Edw. IV.--Rymer is apparently under amistake in stating that Exeter fled to Westminster Sanctuary, about twomonths after Barnet. The language of the Roll is decisive that Exeterwas a prisoner, and not in sanctuary, between the dates named.
King Henry was rather better treated. Dispute his title as he might,Edward provided for him as for a captive prince. About half-a-crown perday was allowed for his "diet;" but a strong guard of thirty-sixpersons, afterwards gradually reduced to eleven, was thought necessaryfor his safe keeping.
The corpses of Warwick and Montague were exposed to popular view, withuncovered faces, in St. Paul's Cathedral, for four days: and on theeighteenth of April they were laid with their Montacute fathers in thechurch at Bisham. The day after their funeral, the royal pardon wasrenewed to their brother the Archbishop. His offence was that of"taking oath to Harry our great adversary, as to his Sovereign Lord, andto Margaret, calling her Queen, which if a French woman born, anddaughter to him that is extreme adversary and mortal enemy to all thisour land and people," and "assembling unto him numbers of French menbeside other traitors and rebels."[#]
[#] Close Roll, 11 Edw. IV.
Considering that Edward himself had married the daughter of a Frenchlady, had negotiated previously for his marriage with an ItalianPrincess, and had reconquered England with the assistance of Flemings,this taunt upon Queen Marguerite's foreign extraction and alien troopsis rather amusing, and marked with as much consistency as usuallycharacterised his actions. What poor King Rene of Naples had done, tobe singled out beyond all other persons as the special adversary to theEnglish land and people, may reasonably be questioned, particularly bythose who know his quiet, rather lazy, artistic disposition. But peoplein a passion, and people trying to impress others with a conviction, arenot in all cases consistent and truthful.
On the 27th of April a solemn proclamation was issued by name of "theKing's rebels and traitors." The announcement of the names was not madewith particular courtesy. They were "Margaret (with no otherdistinctive appellation); Edward, her son; Henry, late Duke of Exeter(whose wife continued to be styled Duchess); Edmund Beaufort, callinghimself Duke of Somerset; John, Earl of Oxford; John Courtenay, callinghimself Earl of Devon; William late Viscount Beaumont; John Beaufort andHugh Courtenay, knights." It was solemnly commanded that none should"give them help, favour, or succour, on pain of death and forfeiture ofall held of us: we calling Almighty God to record that it shall beagainst our will and intent."[#]
[#] Close Roll, 11 Edw. IV.
Did it ever strike the man who dictated these words, that God Almightyhad kept a record concerning him, and did he ever think what hisfeelings would be, when that record was read out before men and angels?The Nemesis for the sins of Henry IV. was descending with
dire vengeanceon the House of Lancaster. But did he imagine that the House of Yorkshould escape the judgment of God--that the Jehu who had been raised upto destroy the innocent sons of Ahab, should be permitted to walk withimpunity in the sins of Jeroboam?