THE INTERVIEW OF EARL WARWICK AND QUEEN MARGARET.
Louis hastened to meet Margaret at Tours; thither came also her father
Rene, her brother John of Calabria, Yolante her sister, and the Count
of Vaudemonte. The meeting between the queen and Rene was so touching
as to have drawn tears to the hard eyes of Louis XI.; but, that
emotion over, Margaret evinced how little affliction had humbled her
high spirit, or softened her angry passions: she interrupted Louis in
every argument for reconciliation with Warwick. "Not with honour to
myself and to my son," she exclaimed, "can I pardon that cruel earl,
the main cause of King Henry's downfall! in vain patch up a hollow
peace between us,--a peace of form and parchment! My spirit never can
be contented with him, ne pardon!"
For several days she maintained a language which betrayed the chief
cause of her own impolitic passions, that had lost her crown. Showing
to Louis the letter despatched to her, proffering the hand of the Lady
Elizabeth to her son, she asked if that were not a more profitable
party [See, for this curious passage of secret history, Sir H. Ellis's
"Original Letters from the Harleian Manuscripts," second series, vol.
i., letter 42.], and if it were necessary that she should forgive,--
whether it were not more queenly to treat with Edward than with a
twofold rebel?
In fact, the queen would perhaps have fallen into Gloucester's artful
snare, despite all the arguments and even the half-menaces [Louis
would have thrown over Margaret's cause if Warwick had demanded it; he
instructed MM. de Concressault and du Plessis to assure the earl that
he would aid him to the utmost to reconquer England either for the
Queen Margaret or for any one else he chose (on pour qui il voudra):
for that he loved the earl better than Margaret or her son.--BRANTE,
t. ix. 276.] of the more penetrating Louis, but for a counteracting
influence which Richard had not reckoned upon. Prince Edward, who had
lingered behind Louis, arrived from Amboise, and his persuasions did
more than all the representations of the crafty king. The queen loved
her son with that intenseness which characterizes the one soft
affection of violent natures. Never had she yet opposed his most
childish whim, and now he spoke with the eloquence of one who put his
heart and his life's life into his words. At last, reluctantly, she
consented to an interview with Warwick. The earl, accompanied by
Oxford, arrived at Tours, and the two nobles were led into the
presence of Margaret by King Louis.
The reader will picture to himself a room darkened by thick curtains
drawn across the casement, for the proud woman wished not the earl to
detect on her face either the ravages of years or the emotions of
offended pride. In a throne chair, placed on the dais, sat the
motionless queen, her hands clasping, convulsively, the arms of the
fauteuil, her features pale and rigid; and behind the chair leaned the
graceful figure of her son. The person of the Lancastrian prince was
little less remarkable than that of his hostile namesake, but its
character was distinctly different. ["According to some of the French
chroniclers, the Prince of Wales, who was one of the handsomest and
most accomplished princes in Europe, was very desirous of becoming the
husband of Anne Nevile," etc.--Miss STRICKLAND: Life of Margaret of
Anjou.] Spare, like Henry V., almost to the manly defect of leanness,
his proportions were slight to those which gave such portly majesty to
the vast-chested Edward, but they evinced the promise of almost equal
strength,--the muscles hardened to iron by early exercise in arms, the
sap of youth never wasted by riot and debauch. His short purple
manteline, trimmed with ermine, was embroidered with his grandfather's
favourite device, "the silver swan;" he wore on his breast the badge
of St. George; and the single ostrich plume, which made his cognizance
as Prince of Wales, waved over a fair and ample forehead, on which
were even then traced the lines of musing thought and high design; his
chestnut hair curled close to his noble head; his eye shone dark and
brilliant beneath the deep-set brow, which gives to the human
countenance such expression of energy and intellect,--all about him,
in aspect and mien, seemed to betoken a mind riper than his years, a
masculine simplicity of taste and bearing, the earnest and grave
temperament mostly allied in youth to pure and elevated desires, to an
honourable and chivalric soul.
Below the dais stood some of the tried and gallant gentlemen who had
braved exile, and tasted penury in their devotion to the House of
Lancaster, and who had now flocked once more round their queen, in the
hope of better days. There were the Dukes of Exeter and Somerset,
their very garments soiled and threadbare,--many a day had those great
lords hungered for the beggar's crust! [Philip de Comines says he
himself had seen the Dukes of Exeter and Somerset in the Low Countries
in as wretched a plight as common beggars.] There stood Sir John
Fortescue, the patriarch authority of our laws, who had composed his
famous treatise for the benefit of the young prince, overfond of
exercise with lance and brand, and the recreation of knightly song.
There were Jasper of Pembroke, and Sir Henry Rous, and the Earl of
Devon, and the Knight of Lytton, whose House had followed, from sire
to son, the fortunes of the Lancastrian Rose; [Sir Robert de Lytton
(whose grandfather had been Comptroller to the Household of Henry IV.,
and Agister of the Forests allotted to Queen Joan), was one of the
most powerful knights of the time; and afterwards, according to Perkin
Warbeck, one of the ministers most trusted by Henry VII. He was lord
of Lytton, in Derbyshire (where his ancestors had been settled since
the Conquest), of Knebworth in Herts (the ancient seat and manor of
Plantagenet de Brotherton, Earl of Norfolk and Earl Marshal), of
Myndelesden and Langley, of Standyarn, Dene, and Brekesborne, in
Northamptonshire, and became in the reign of Henry VII. Privy
Councillor, Uuder-Treasurer, and Keeper of the great Wardrobe.] and,
contrasting the sober garments of the exiles, shone the jewels and
cloth-of-gold that decked the persons of the more prosperous
foreigners, Ferri, Count of Vaudemonte, Margaret's brother, the Duke
of Calabria, and the powerful form of Sir Pierre de Breze, who had
accompanied Margaret in her last disastrous campaigns, with all the
devotion of a chevalier for the lofty lady adored in secret. [See,
for the chivalrous devotion of this knight (Seneschal of Normandy) to
Margaret, Miss Strickland's Life of that queen.]
When the door opened, and gave to the eyes of those proud exiles the
form of their puissant enemy, they with difficulty suppressed the
murmur of their resentment, and their looks turned with sympathy and
grief to the hueless face of their queen.
The earl himself was troubled; his step was less firm, his crest less
haughty, his eye less serenely steadfast.
But beside him, in a dress more homely than that of the poorest exile
there, and in garb and in aspect, as he lives forever in the
portraiture of Victor Hugo and our own yet greater Scott, moved Louis,
popularly called "The Fell."
"Madame and cousin," said the king, "we present to you the man for
whose haute courage and dread fame we have such love and respect, that
we value him as much as any king, and would do as much for him as for
man living [Ellis: Original Letters, vol. i., letter 42, second
series]; and with my lord of Warwick, see also this noble earl of
Oxford, who, though he may have sided awhile with the enemies of your
Highness, comes now to pray your pardon, and to lay at your feet his
sword."
Lord Oxford (who had ever unwillingly acquiesced in the Yorkist
dynasty), more prompt than Warwick, here threw himself on his knees
before Margaret, and his tears fell on her hand, as he murmured
"Pardon."
"Rise, Sir John de Vere," said the queen, glancing with a flashing eye
from Oxford to Lord Warwick. "Your pardon is right easy to purchase,
for well I know that you yielded but to the time,--you did not turn
the time against us; you and yours have suffered much for King Henry's
cause. Rise, Sir Earl."
"And," said a voice, so deep and so solemn, that it hushed the very
breath of those who heard it,--"and has Margaret a pardon also for the
man who did more than all others to dethrone King Henry, and can do
more than all to restore his crown?"
"Ha!" cried' Margaret, rising in her passion, and casting from her the
hand her son had placed upon her shoulder, "ha! Ownest thou thy
wrongs, proud lord? Comest thou at last to kneel at Queen Margaret's
feet? Look round and behold her court,--some half-score brave and
unhappy gentlemen, driven from their hearths and homes, their heritage
the prey of knaves and varlets, their sovereign in a prison, their
sovereign's wife, their sovereign's son, persecuted and hunted from
the soil! And comest thou now to the forlorn majesty of sorrow to
boast, 'Such deeds were mine?'"
"Mother and lady," began the prince
"Madden me not, my son. Forgiveness is for the prosperous, not for
adversity and woe."
"Hear me," said the earl,--who, having once bowed his pride to the
interview, had steeled himself against the passion which, in his
heart, he somewhat despised as a mere woman's burst of inconsiderate
fury,--"for I have this right to be heard,--that not one of these
knights, your lealest and noblest friends, can say of me that I ever
stooped to gloss mine acts, or palliate bold deeds with wily words.
Dear to me as comrade in arms, sacred to me as a father's head, was
Richard of York, mine uncle by marriage with Lord Salisbury's sister.
I speak not now of his claims by descent (for those even King Henry
could not deny), but I maintain them, even in your Grace's presence,
to be such as vindicate, from disloyalty and treason, me and the many
true and gallant men who upheld them through danger, by field and
scaffold. Error, it might be,--but the error of men who believed
themselves the defenders of a just cause. Nor did I, Queen Margaret,
lend myself wholly to my kinsman's quarrel, nor share one scheme that
went to the dethronement of King Henry, until--pardon, if I speak
bluntly; it is my wont, and would be more so now, but for thy fair
face and woman's form, which awe me more than if confronting the frown
of Coeur de Lion, or the First Great Edward--pardon me, I say, if I
speak bluntly, and aver that I was not King Henry's foe until false
counsellors had planned my destruction, in body and goods, land and
life. In the midst of peace, at Coventry, my father and myself
scarcely escaped the knife of the murderer. [See Hall (236), who says
that Margaret had laid a snare for Salisbury and Warwick at Warwick,
and "if they had not suddenly departed, their life's thread had been
broken."] In the streets of London the very menials and hangmen
employed in the service of your Highness beset me unarmed [Hall,
Fabyan]; a little time after and my name was attainted by an illegal
Parliament. [Parl. Rolls, 370; W. Wyr. 478.] And not till after
these things did Richard Duke of York ride to the hall of Westminster,
and lay his hand upon the throne; nor till after these things did I
and my father Salisbury say to each other, 'The time has come when
neither peace nor honour can be found for us under King Henry's
reign.' Blame me if you will, Queen Margaret; reject me if you need
not my sword; but that which I did in the gone days was such as no
nobleman so outraged and despaired [Warwick's phrase. See Sir H.
Ellis's "Original Letters," vol. i., second series.] would have
forborne to do,--remembering that England is not the heritage of the
king alone, but that safety and honour, and freedom and justice, are
the rights of his Norman gentlemen and his Saxon people. And rights
are a mockery and a laughter if they do not justify resistance,
whensoever, and by whomsoever, they are invaded and assailed."
It had been with a violent effort that Margaret had refrained from
interrupting this address, which had, however, produced no
inconsiderable effect upon the knightly listeners around the dais.
And now, as the earl ceased, her indignation was arrested by dismay on
seeing the young prince suddenly leave his post and advance to the
side of Warwick.
"Right well hast thou spoken, noble earl and cousin,--right well,
though right plainly. And I," added the prince, "saving the presence
of my queen and mother,--I, the representative of my sovereign father,
in his name will pledge thee a king's oblivion and pardon for the
past, if thou on thy side acquit my princely mother of all privity to
the snares against thy life and honour of which thou hast spoken, and
give thy knightly word to be henceforth leal to Lancaster. Perish all
memories of the past that can make walls between the souls of brave
men."
Till this moment, his arms folded in his gown, his thin, fox-like face
bent to the ground, Louis had listened, silent and undisturbed. He
now deemed it the moment to second the appeal of the prince. Passing
his hand hypocritically over his tearless eyes, the king turned to
Margaret and said,--
"Joyful hour! happy union! May Madame La Vierge and Monseigneur Saint
Martin sanctify and hallow the bond by which alone my beloved
kinswoman can regain her rights and roiaulme. Amen."
Unheeding this pious ejaculation, her bosom heaving, her eyes
wandering from the earl to Edward, Margaret at last gave vent to her
passion.
"And is it come to this, Prince Edward of Wales, that thy mother's
wrongs are not thine? Standest thou side by side with my mortal foe,
who, instead of repenting treason, dares but to complain of injury?
Am I fallen so low that my voice to pardon or disdain is counted but
as a sough of idle air! God of my fathers, hear me! Willingly from
my heart I tear the last thought and care for the pomps of earth.
Hateful to me a crown for which the wearer must cringe to enemy and
rebel! Away, Earl Warwick! Monstrous and unnatural seems it to the
wife of captive Henry to see thee by the side of Henry's son!"
Every eye turned in fear to the aspect of the earl, every ear listened
for the answer which might be expected from his well-known heat and
pride,--an answer to destroy forever the last hope of the Lancastrian
line. But whether it was the very consciousness of his power to raise
or to crush that fiery speaker, or those feelings natural to brave
men, half of chivalry, half contempt, which kept down the natural
anger by thoughts of the sex and sorrows of the Anjouite, or that the
wonted irascibility of his temper had melted into one steady and
profound passion of revenge against Edward of York, which absorbed all
lesser and more trivial causes of resentment,--the earl's face, though
pale as the dead, was unmoved and calm, and, with a grave and
melancholy smile, he answered,--
"More do I respect thee, O queen, for the hot words which show a truth
rarely heard from royal lips than hadst thou deigned to dissimulate
the forgiveness and kindly charity which sharp remembrance permits
thee not to feel! No, princely Margaret, not yet can there be frank
amity between thee and me! Nor do I boast the affection yon gallant
gentlemen have displayed. Frankly, as thou hast spoken, do I say,
that the wrongs I have suffered from another alone move me to
allegiance to thyself! Let others serve thee for love of Henry;
reject not my service, given but for revenge on Edward,--as much,
henceforth, am I his foe as formerly his friend and maker! [Sir H.
Ellis: Original Letters, vol. i., second series.] And if, hereafter,
on the throne, thou shouldst remember and resent the former wars, at
least thou hast owed me no gratitude, and thou canst not grieve my
heart and seethe my brain, as the man whom I once loved better than a
son! Thus, from thy presence I depart, chafing not at thy scornful
wrath; mindful, young prince, but of thy just and gentle heart, and
sure, in the calm of my own soul (on which this much, at least, of our
destiny is reflected as on a glass), that when, high lady, thy colder
sense returns to thee, thou wilt see that the league between us must
be made!--that thine ire as woman must fade before thy duties as a
another, thy affection as a wife, and thy paramount and solemn
obligations to the people thou hast ruled as queen! In the dead of
night thou shalt hear the voice of Henry in his prison asking Margaret
to set him free; the vision of thy son shall rise before thee in his
bloom and promise, to demand why his mother deprives him of a crown;
and crowds of pale peasants, grinded beneath tyrannous exaction, and
despairing fathers mourning for dishonoured children, shall ask the
Christian queen if God will sanction the unreasoning wrath which
rejects the only instrument that can redress her people."
This said, the earl bowed his head and turned; but, at the first sign
of his departure, there was a general movement among the noble
bystanders. Impressed by the dignity of his bearing, by the greatness
of his power, and by the unquestionable truth that in rejecting him
Margaret cast away the heritage of her son, the exiles, with a common
impulse, threw themselves at the queen's feet, and exclaimed, almost
in the same words,--
"Grace! noble queen!--Grace for the great Lord Warwick!"
"My sister," whispered John of Calabria, "thou art thy son's ruin if
the earl depart!"
"Pasque Dieu! Vex not my kinswoman,--if she prefer a convent to a
throne, cross not the holy choice!" said the wily Louis, with a
mocking irony on his pinched lips.
The prince alone spoke not, but stood proudly on the same spot, gazing
on the earl, as he slowly moved to the door.
"Oh, Edward! Edward, my son!" exclaimed the unhappy Margaret, "if for
thy sake--for thine--I must make the past a blank, speak thou for me!"
"I have spoken," said the prince, gently, "and thou didst chide me,
noble mother; yet I spoke, methinks, as Henry V. had done, if of a
mighty enemy he had had the power to make a noble friend."
A short, convulsive sob was heard from the throne chair; and as
suddenly as it burst, it ceased. Queen Margaret rose, not a trace of
that stormy emotion upon the grand and marble beauty of her face. Her
voice, unnaturally calm, arrested the steps of the departing earl.
"Lord Warwick, defend this boy, restore his rights, release his
sainted father, and for years of anguish and of exile, Margaret of
Anjou forgives the champion of her son!"
In an instant Prince Edward was again by the earl's side; a moment
more, and the earl's proud knee bent in homage to the queen, joyful
tears were in the eyes of her friends and kindred, a triumphant smile
on the lips of Louis, and Margaret's face, terrible in its stony and
locked repose, was raised above, as if asking the All-Merciful pardon
--for the pardon which the human sinner had bestowed! [Ellis: Original
Letters from the Harleian Manuscripts, letter 42.]