CHAPTER XXXI.
There is nothing which should teach man virtue, if not religion, morethan the study of history; not by showing that the result of evilaction is punishment to the ill-doer, for such is frequently not thecase, in this world at least, unless we take into account the moralsuffering which the consciousness of wickedness must produce: but byshowing in the strongest possible light the vanity of human wishes,the futility of human efforts, when directed in any other course thanthat which leads to imperishable happiness hereafter. We often see theman who lies, and cheats, and grinds the poor, and deceives theunwary, and wrongs the confiding, obtain the pitiful yellow dust whichhas caused so much misery on earth. We see the grander knave whoplots, and fights, and overcomes, and triumphs, who desolates fertilelands, and sheds the blood of thousands, obtain power, that phantomwhich has led statesmen, priests, and kings, through oceans of fraud,falsehood, and gore. We see them all passing away like a vain shadow,snatched from the midst of trickery or strife, of disappointment orsuccess, of prosperity or adversity, before the cup of joy is tasted,before effort has been crowned by fruition. A few lines of history, abrief record of censure or panegyric; then the page is turned, and allis over. The mighty and the good things last; and the spirits of thosewho wrought them are gone on high.
Richard walked in the gallery of the castle at York, his arms crossedupon his chest, his eyes bent down upon the ground, his brain busy,rejoining the broken threads of policy; as great a man perhaps as abad man can ever be. He was mighty as a soldier, mighty as apolitician, almost sublime in the vast wide-stretching reach of hissubtlety. Through life he had played a game almost against all odds;and he had won every stake. He had seen those who stood between himand the light swept away; he had contrived to remove obstacle afterobstacle; he had crushed or aided to crush all the enemies of hishouse; he had imposed the silence of death, or the chains of exile,upon all personal opponents; and he had often succeeded in the stillmore perilous strife with the passions and the feelings of his ownheart; for, because he was ambitious, and all things gave place toambition, we have no right to conclude that his heart was withoutfeelings even of a gentle and a kindly nature. Ambition was the idol,and to it the heart sacrificed its children.
As he thus walked, a man in a black robe, with a velvet cap upon hishead, which he doffed as soon as he saw the king, entered the gallery.His step roused Richard from his reverie; and, looking up, heexclaimed:
"Ha! How is the queen?"
"No better, I grieve to say, your grace," replied the physician.
"And when no better--worse," replied Richard, thoughtfully, "because aday nearer the grave. These days, these days, they are but the feveredpulses of the great malady, which, in the end, slays us all.--Nobetter?--What is her complaint?"
"'Tis a pining wasting sickness, sire," replied the physician,"proceeding from the spirits more than the blood. It has consumed herever since the death of the prince was announced to her so rashly,which may have occasioned a curdling of the juices, and rendered themno longer fit to support life. I grieve to say, the case is one ofserious danger, if her grace cannot be persuaded to take morenourishment, and to cast off this black melancholy."
"How long may it last?" asked Richard, gravely.
"Not very long," replied the physician; "I trust art may do somethingto correct and alleviate; but cure nothing can, unless the lady useher own powers to overcome this despondency and gloom."
"Well!" said Richard; and, at the same time, he bowed his head as anindication that the physician might depart.
"It is strange," he thought, as soon as he was alone again. "Not longsince, I should have heard such tidings with a sigh. Ann is dying,that is clear. How beautiful I remember her--how sweetly beautiful!Yet weak, very weak. The white and red roses might have adorned hercheek; but she should not have entwined them in her marriage bed. Iloved her--yes, I loved her well--I love her still, though herweakness frets me. Yet England must have heirs. The crown must notbecome a football at my death, to be kicked from John de la Pole toHarry of Richmond. At my death! When will that be, I wonder? Ay, whocan say? There hangs the cloud. No eye can penetrate it. Turn whichway we will, fate's thick dark curtain is around us, and no hand canraise it up; but we must go on till we touch it. 'Tis well, perchance.Yet did one but know when that hour of death is to come, how manythings might we not do, how many things might we leave undone.Laborious plans, vast enterprises, schemes that require long longyears to perfect, might all be laid aside, and our energies fixed uponthe period that is ours. We work in the dark, and half our work isvain. Well, well, time will show; and our labours must not beimperfect, because we know not the result. Yes, with this ever-readyfate yawning before me, nought must be delayed. Ann is dying, that isclear. Had it not been so, perhaps it might have been necessary to puther from me. Rome is an indulgent mother; and the sacrifice of a fewdozen lollards, together with some small share of gold, would havefound favour for a divorce. But she is dying, and that at least isspared. My brother's daughter must be her successor. I will move atRome for the dispensation at once. And the lady too? But no fear ofher. She is ready and coming enough. She will have children surely, orshe will belie her father and mother. Heaven, what a progeny of them,while I had but one son! Who goes there without?"
"'Tis I, sire," replied Sir Richard Ratcliffe; appearing at the door.
"Ah, Ratcliffe, come hither," said the king. "The queen is very ill,Ratcliffe--dying, her physicians tell me."
"Your Grace must bear Heaven's will patiently," replied the courtier.
"I will so," answered Richard; "but we must foresee events, Ratcliffe.The queen is dying. Men will say that I poisoned her; think you notso, Ratcliffe?"
"It matters little what men say, sire," answered the other, "since wewell know that half they say is false."
"More than half," answered Richard. "Let a man look devout, and dosome seemly acts of charity, till he has made a name for the trumpetof the multitude, and he may be luxurious, treacherous, false,avaricious, if he pleases, he shall still have a multitude to speakhis praises to the sky. But let another, for some great object, do adoubtful deed, though justified perhaps by the end in view, the wholeworld will be upon his track, baying like hounds till they have runhim down. Every accident that favours him, every event, the mere fruitof chance, that he takes advantage of, will be attributed to designand to his act. No man will die, whom he could wish removed, but whatmankind will say, he poisoned him; no enemy will fall by the sword ofjustice, but it will be a murder; no truth will be told favouring him,but a falsehood will be found in it, and his best acts and highestpurposes will be made mean by the mean multitude. Well, it mattersnot. We must keep on our course. While I hold the truncheon I willrule; and these turbulent nobles shall find that, slander me as theywill, they have a master still. Oh, if Heaven but grant me life, Iwill so break their power, and sap their influence, that the commondrudges of the cities, the traders who toil and moil after their dirtylucre, shall stamp upon the coronets of peers, and leave them but thename of the power which they have so long misused. But I must securemy house upon the throne. The queen is dying, Ratcliffe--I must haveheirs, man, heirs."
Ratcliffe smiled meaningly, but replied not; for to mistake hispurposes, while seeming to divine them, was somewhat dangerous withRichard.
The king remained in thought for a moment or two, and then enquired,in an altered tone--
"Who is in the castle?"
Ratcliffe looked at him in some surprise; for his question was not asdefinite as usual, and Richard went on to say--
"I heard that the princess Mary, of Scotland, had arrived last night.I sent too for Lord Fulmer. I will not have that marriage go forwardtill I am sure; and, if they dare to disobey me, let them beware."
"He is not yet arrived, sire," answered Ratcliffe; "but there has beenhardly time. The princess, however, came last night. She went first toLondon by sea, it seems, and has since followed your grace hither. Shehas just returned to her apartmen
ts from visiting the queen."
"Ha! Has she been there?" said Richard. "That had been better not; butI will go and see her. Let some one go forward to say I wait upon herhighness. We must have this marriage concluded speedily, betwixt theDuke of Rothsay and my niece Anne. Then, Harry of Richmond, thou hastlost a hand; and a Scotch hand is hard, as we have found sometimes.Go, good Ratcliffe, go to her yourself."
Ratcliffe immediately retired; and, after meditating for a few minuteslonger, Richard followed him. He found two servants waiting at thedoor of the room to which he directed his steps, together with hisattached though somewhat unscrupulous friend and counsellor,Ratcliffe, who had delivered his message and retired from the presenceof the princess. The door was immediately thrown open, one of theservants saying, in a loud voice, "The king;" and Richard entered witha calm, quiet, graceful step, as unlike the man which the pervertedstatements of his enemies have taught us to imagine him as possible.
Seated at the farther end of the room, with two or three young womenstanding round her, was a lady apparently of some six or seven andthirty years of age--perhaps older, but she seemed no more--whosebeauty could hardly be said to have been touched by the hand of time.The expression of her face was mild and melancholy; but yet there wassomething high and commanding in it too. Her dress was very plain,without ornament of any kind; and the colour was sombre, though notexactly that of mourning. She rose when the king entered, and took astep forward in front of her attendants, while Richard hastened on ata quicker pace, and taking her hand courteously, pressed his lips uponit; after which he led her back to her chair. The ladies aroundhurried to bring forward a seat for the king of England; but heremained standing by the side of the princess, for a moment or two,inquiring after her health and her journey. She answered briefly, butwith courtesy, saying, that she had preferred to travel by sea, ratherthan cross the border, on both sides of which were turbulent andlawless men.
"I have come, my lord the king," she continued, "with full powers tonegociate and conclude the terms of the treaty already proposedbetween your grace and my beloved brother, for the marriage of mynephew and your niece. You may think it strange that he should choosea woman for an ambassador; but, as you know, I begged the office; andas you kindly seconded my views, by the hint contained in your letter,he was content to trust me."
"I could do no less than give the hint, as knight and gentleman, whenI knew your wishes," replied Richard; "but, to say truth, dear lady, Ialmost feared to yield to them. It is nothing new to see princessesruling states and guiding negociations; and, from all my ownexperience, I should say, that strong must be the head and resolutethe heart which can resist their eloquence, their beauty, and theirgentleness. I always therefore fear to meet a lady as a diplomatist;but I could not refuse when you laid on me your commands."
"Yet I fear," said Mary, "that those commands, as you term them, weresomehow made known to my brother or his ministers; for I find thatseveral messengers were sent to England before I departed myself; and,the day before I set out, an old servant of mine, John Radnor, whom Ialways fancied faithful, and whom your grace knew right well, left me,with letters or messages, I am told, for England, which were keptsecret from me, and I have never seen him more."
"Nor have I," said Richard, gravely; "but when we are alone we willtalk farther."
"These are faithful friends," said the princess, looking round to theyoung ladies who were with her; but, marking a slight smile whichcurled Richard's lip, she added: "If your grace has matters ofsecrecy, they shall go. Leave us, girls."
The king and the princess remained perfectly silent till the room wascleared; but then Richard said:
"We, in high stations, dear lady, never know who are really faithfulfriends, till we have tried them long and in many ways. You said butnow, that you fancied this John Radnor was your faithful servant. Nowthis surprises me not," he added, in a tone of gallantry, notunmingled with sarcasm, "for I always looked upon him as mine; and he,who is my faithful servant, must be yours."
The princess gazed at him for a moment with a look of surprise; butshe then bent her eyes down, saying, "I think I understand yourhighness. Was he a spy?"
"Nay, that is a harsh term," answered Richard. "He was not exactly aspy. Peasants and franklins, when there is a great man in theneighbourhood, will bring him presents or offerings of no great worth,on the sweet certainty of receiving something in return more valuablethan that they bring. Thus did John Radnor with intelligence. When helearned aught that was likely to be well paid, he brought it to himwho was likely to pay him best. But let us speak of him no more; forhis tale-telling mouth is closed in the dull earth. He was killed byaccident, on that very journey of which you speak; but his letterswere brought on by some posts of mine, who followed close behind him.All the packets that you have sent me, within the last year, havereached me safely, I believe--those which Radnor brought, delicatelyfingered indeed, and those which came by other hands, either intact,or resealed with greater skill. I have executed your commands to theletter, however, without attending to the recommendations of others,which sometimes accompanied them. But I grieve to say I have had nosuccess. Many are the inquiries I have made; but not a vestige, not atrace is to be found."
The princess cast down her eyes, and crushed a bright tear dropbetween their jetty fringes. "Nevertheless," she answered, after amoment's silence, "I will pursue the search myself, though notdoubting either your grace's kindness or your diligence. It is hardlypossible that his companions in arms should not mark the place whereso distinguished a man lies, even by a stone."
"He was indeed," said Richard, "the flower of courtesy and the prideof knighthood. I remember the good earl well, just before he went toDenmark, to bring home your brother's bride; and seldom have I seenone so worthy to live in long remembrance, or to be mourned by thewidowed heart with such enduring grief as your noble husband, the earlof Arran. Did I know where he lies, I myself would erect a monument tohis memory, although he took part with the enemies of my house."
While he had been pronouncing this panegyric upon her dead husband,the eyes of the princess, countess of Arran, had overflowed withtears; but she answered when he ceased, saying--
"That were indeed generous; and I beseech you show to me equalgenerosity in assisting me to pursue my search."
"To the utmost of my power will I aid you," replied Richard, "althoughI am sure it must be in vain. Let me, however, ask what leads you tobelieve that he still lives?"
"Nay, I believe not," replied the princess. "It is something less thanbelief--a doubt, a clinging hope. Perchance, had I seen his deadcorpse, I might have felt somewhat of the same. I might have fanciedthat there was warmth about the heart, and tried to bring back lifeinto its seat, though life was quite extinct. Such is woman's love, mylord. But you may ask what has nourished even this faint hope, whentwelve long years have passed, and when I received authentic news ofhis death in the last skirmish of the war. That man, John Radnor,swore that he saw him dead upon the field. The others who were withhim, in some sort, corroborated the same story; but they were notquite so sure. My brother, all his court, affected to believe that itwas true--to have no doubt thereof. But yet, if they were sothoroughly convinced, why, when they wanted me to wed another, didthey press so eagerly for a divorce at the court of Rome--a divorcefrom a dead man! They must, at least, have doubted. Thus they taughtme to doubt; and, ere I yield even to my king's authority, I must seeand inquire for myself. All I ask is, let me find him living, or findwhere they buried him. His arms, his look, must have shown, whoeverfound the body, that he was no ordinary man, to be buried with thecommon herd on the spot where he fell."
Richard shook his head, saying, "Alas, lady, you know not what a fieldof battle is. The blows and bloody wounds, the trampling of the flyingmultitude, the horses' hoofs, will often deface every feature, andleave the dead body no resemblance to the living man; and, as forarms, there is always hovering round a field of battle a foul flock ofhuman vultures, ready to despoi
l the dead, the moment that the tide ofcontest ebbs away."
"But this was a mere skirmish," replied the lady.
"I know, I know," said Richard. "He was hurrying across the countrywith a few score Lancastrian spears, to join Margaret at Tewksbury,when he was encountered by Sir Walter Gray, with a superior force. Butthink you, had he been alive, no tidings would have reached you fromhimself, no message, no letter?"
"That he should have sent none would indeed be strange," replied thelady; "but you know not, my lord, how I have been watched and guarded.I know that some of my letters from Denmark were actually stopped;and, till within the last two years, I have been almost a prisoner.Nay, more, I find they spread a report that I was married to the earlof Hamilton, amongst many other strokes of policy to bend me to theirwishes. All these things have made me doubt. 'Tis true, I cannot fullygive way to hope; but yet I perceive clearly they themselves do notfeel sure Arran is dead."
"Well, lady, my best assistance you shall have," answered Richard."All sheriffs of counties, and their officers, shall be commanded togive you aid--ay, and to prosecute the search themselves; and tomonasteries and abbeys you will need no commendation."
"Thanks, gracious prince," replied the lady; and Richard, with an airof real kindness, answered:
"No thanks are merited, where the pleasure received is far more thanthat given. Would I could aid you farther!"
And then, changing the conversation, he added: "You have been to seemy poor unhappy queen, I find. She is sadly ill, poor Anne; and thephysicians give but very little hope."
"She looks ill indeed," replied the princess; "yet, I trust that careand skilful tending may restore her."
Richard shook his head, and fell into a fit of thought, or seemed todo so.
"Her heart has received a wound that will never heal," he answered, atlength, with a sigh. "Man's nature resists these things; but woman'syields. Always a delicate flower, this last storm has crushed her. Ourbeautiful boy, our Edward, our only one, to be snatched from us inthis sudden and fearful way! It was enough, surely it was enough, tobreak a heart so tender as hers. Alas, lady, I must not indulge inhope. But this conversation unmans me," he continued. "I am not fitnow to discuss matters of urgent business. To-night, lady, to-night wewill talk of the marriage of your nephew with my niece. At present, Ican think of nothing but my dead boy, and my dying wife. Farewell,then, farewell for the present. Alas, poor lady! It has fallen hardupon her;" and, turning sharply away, he quitted the room, mutteringwords to himself, as if solely occupied with the fate of his wife, andthe loss of his son.
The moment he had closed the door, however, he took the arm ofRatcliffe, who was still in waiting, and led him along the corridor,speaking to him in a low voice.
"We must conclude this matter speedily," he said--"the marriage,Ratcliffe. I mean the marriage. I will have you go yourself."
"I am ready this moment, sire," answered Ratcliffe. "But tell me whereI am to go, and my foot shall be in the stirrup within half an hour."
"Where?" exclaimed Richard, in a tone of surprise, "why, to thesanctuary at Westminster, to be sure. I must have you deal with ourgood sister, Elizabeth of Woodville, the queen dowager, and persuadeher to give her girls into my safe custody."
"That were difficult, very difficult, my lord," replied Ratcliffe.
"Not a whit," said Richard. "Be liberal of promises; say that I willwed her daughters to the noblest in the realm. Tell her, my own childbeing dead, my brother's children become objects of love and care,instead of fear. Assign them liberal pensions--ay, and give the sameunto the queen their mother. Tell her, her kinsmen shall be welltreated and restored to their estates and honours, and contrive towhisper in the ear of my fair niece Elizabeth, that, were Richardfree, as he soon may be, he would set her on the throne of England.Dost thou understand me, Ratcliffe?"
"Ay, gracious lord, right well," replied Ratcliffe. "I have neverwanted zeal; and, if zeal can do aught, within ten days the princessesshall be in your grace's hand."
"Zeal! Thou hast more than zeal, Ratcliffe," exclaimed Richard. "Zealis the gallant horse that bears us on full speed. Wit is the hand thatguides him. Why look'st thou thoughtful, man?"
"I was but thinking, sire," answered Ratcliffe, "that it were well tosend off messengers to the pope. To wed your niece, you must have adispensation. Rome has no pity for love's impatience, littleconsideration for exigencies of state. 'Twere well to have mattersbegun and carried on at once, with that slow court, or we shall haveobjections, and at first refusals."
"Refusals!" said Richard, with a bitter smile. "There are stilllollards in England, Ratcliffe; and by St. Paul, if he delay orhesitate, his triple crown may lose its brightest gem. We are a devoutson of the church, my friend; but still we must be tender to oursubjects. See the bishop of London, when you are there, and bid himcease all flame and faggot denunciations. Tell him that reasons ofstate require us to be tolerant at least for the time, and insinuatethat we intend to pass an act for the relief of men's consciences."
"He will send the news to Rome, sire," said Ratcliffe, with somehesitation.
"Let him," answered Richard, with a meaning smile; "'tis what I wouldhave! I would provide something to give up, lest Rome's demands shouldbe too unreasonable. A little fear, too, is salutary. So see him, seehim, and put the matter as I have said, strongly enough to createalarm, not strongly enough to give offence. But the queen and herdaughter must be first dealt with. Let me have her forth fromsanctuary, and my wife no longer in the way between us; and I willpass over papal dispensations, and laugh at Roman thunders. You haveyour directions, away."
Thus saying, he turned to the door of his cabinet, round which severalpersons were waiting.
"Lord Fulmer has arrived, your grace, and is waiting below in thegreen chamber," said one of the attendants.
"Bring him hither," answered Richard; "and mark me, if any news comefrom the coast, give the messengers instant admission;" and he enteredthe cabinet.