Among the sad episodes in the illustrated history of English
sovereigns, not one is more pathetic or impressive than the story of
the two little Princes, sons of Edward IV. This King had an ambitious
and unscrupulous brother, called Richard, Duke of Gloucester.
At the time of the King's death, this man was at the head of an army
in Scotland, which was entirely devoted to him, and he felt strong and
equal to undertaking any bold and unlawful measure to obtain the
crown, which rightfully belonged to Edward's son, the young Prince of
Wales.
Upon receiving the news of his brother's death, Richard clothed
himself and his large retinue in deep mourning and proceeded in great
haste to London, taking the oath of loyalty on the way, and making
many protestations of interest and affection for the fatherless boys.
The young Prince of Wales received him with many expressions of regard
and respectful consideration, as befitted a paternal uncle, and placed
undoubted faith in his suggestions; the Duke thus found it an easy
matter to direct his movements, and the selection of his counselors
and servants. Two of these, who were favorite and loyal friends, he
caused to be seized on a frivolous accusation, and they were taken to
a distant castle as prisoners. Other measures were taken to isolate
him, and in a few days the young King was completely in the hands of
the terrible Duke of Gloucester.
From one high-handed act of usurpation to another, assisted by
unprincipled, ambitious men, he proceeded, evidently aiming to secure
the crown for his own head.
Under pretense of placing the Prince in greater safety, and removing
him from persons who might influence him, to the detriment of the
peace and welfare of the kingdom, he was conducted, in great state, to
the Tower; his uncle assuming the office of Lord Protector of the
King.
Upon gaining the entire custody of the royal lad, he sent a large
number of dignitaries to the royal mother, to persuade her to allow
the other little boy to be taken to the Tower to keep his brother
company. The Prince was allowed to proceed thither, and Richard, now
having them both at his mercy, determined upon their death.
The Governor of the Tower was, it seems, a man of at least human
feelings, and when he was ordered by Richard, "In some wise to put the
children to death," utterly refused to perform so dangerous and
horrible an act.
Richard then sent for the keys of the Tower, to keep in his possession
twenty-four hours, and gave them, and the command of the Tower for
that time, to Sir James Tyrrel, his master of horse.
This man procured two assassins, who proceeded, at dead of night, to
the chamber of the sleeping Princes. They lay in each other's arms, as
though they had fallen asleep comforting one another; and the
assassins, falling upon them with their ruffian strength, smothered
them with the bed-clothes, "Keeping the feather pillows hard upon
their mouths."
When the deed was done, Tyrrel stepped into the chamber, to take a
hasty view of the dead bodies, which were then, by his orders, buried
at the stair-foot, under a heap of stones.
Richard, Duke of Gloucester, had no further obstacle in assuming the
purple, and was crowned King of England with all pomp and ceremony,
and known to unenviable fame as Richard III.
This account has come down to us with all the authority of historical
verity, and subsequent evidences of its accuracy have been discovered.
The age was characterized by inhumanity of the most barbarous kind,
and this crime was in keeping with it.
The English people in this nineteenth century rejoice in a sovereign
who is noble in the highest sense; beloved by her subjects, achieving
for herself the universal plaudit of a "most humane and gracious
lady."