ENGLAND UNDER EDWARD THE FOURTH
King Edward the Fourth was not quite twenty-one years of age when he
took that unquiet seat upon the throne of England. The Lancaster party,
the Red Roses, were then assembling in great numbers near York, and it
was necessary to give them battle instantly. But, the stout Earl of
Warwick leading for the young King, and the young King himself closely
following him, and the English people crowding round the Royal
standard, the White and the Red Roses met, on a wild March day when the
snow was falling heavily, at Towton; and there such a furious battle
raged between them, that the total loss amounted to forty thousand
men—all Englishmen, fighting, upon English ground, against one another.
The young King gained the day, took down the heads of his father and
brother from the walls of York, and put up the heads of some of the
most famous noblemen engaged in the battle on the other side. Then, he
went to London and was crowned with great splendour.
A new Parliament met. No fewer than one hundred and fifty of the
principal noblemen and gentlemen on the Lancaster side were declared
traitors, and the King—who had very little humanity, though he was
handsome in person and agreeable in manners—resolved to do all he
could, to pluck up the Red Rose root and branch.
Queen Margaret, however, was still active for her young son. She
obtained help from Scotland and from Normandy, and took several
important English castles. But, Warwick soon retook them; the Queen
lost all her treasure on board ship in a great storm; and both she and
her son suffered great misfortunes. Once, in the winter weather, as
they were riding through a forest, they were attacked and plundered by
a party of robbers; and, when they had escaped from these men and were
passing alone and on foot through a thick dark part of the wood, they
came, all at once, upon another robber. So the Queen, with a stout
heart, took the little Prince by the hand, and going straight up to
that robber, said to him, ‘My friend, this is the young son of your
lawful King! I confide him to your care.’ The robber was surprised, but
took the boy in his arms, and faithfully restored him and his mother to
their friends. In the end, the Queen’s soldiers being beaten and
dispersed, she went abroad again, and kept quiet for the present.
Now, all this time, the deposed King Henry was concealed by a Welsh
knight, who kept him close in his castle. But, next year, the Lancaster
party recovering their spirits, raised a large body of men, and called
him out of his retirement, to put him at their head. They were joined
by some powerful noblemen who had sworn fidelity to the new King, but
who were ready, as usual, to break their oaths, whenever they thought
there was anything to be got by it. One of the worst things in the
history of the war of the Red and White Roses, is the ease with which
these noblemen, who should have set an example of honour to the people,
left either side as they took slight offence, or were disappointed in
their greedy expectations, and joined the other. Well! Warwick’s
brother soon beat the Lancastrians, and the false noblemen, being
taken, were beheaded without a moment’s loss of time. The deposed King
had a narrow escape; three of his servants were taken, and one of them
bore his cap of estate, which was set with pearls and embroidered with
two golden crowns. However, the head to which the cap belonged, got
safely into Lancashire, and lay pretty quietly there (the people in the
secret being very true) for more than a year. At length, an old monk
gave such intelligence as led to Henry’s being taken while he was
sitting at dinner in a place called Waddington Hall. He was immediately
sent to London, and met at Islington by the Earl of Warwick, by whose
directions he was put upon a horse, with his legs tied under it, and
paraded three times round the pillory. Then, he was carried off to the
Tower, where they treated him well enough.
The White Rose being so triumphant, the young King abandoned himself
entirely to pleasure, and led a jovial life. But, thorns were springing
up under his bed of roses, as he soon found out. For, having been
privately married to Elizabeth Woodville, a young widow lady, very
beautiful and very captivating; and at last resolving to make his
secret known, and to declare her his Queen; he gave some offence to the
Earl of Warwick, who was usually called the King-Maker, because of his
power and influence, and because of his having lent such great help to
placing Edward on the throne. This offence was not lessened by the
jealousy with which the Nevil family (the Earl of Warwick’s) regarded
the promotion of the Woodville family. For, the young Queen was so bent
on providing for her relations, that she made her father an earl and a
great officer of state; married her five sisters to young noblemen of
the highest rank; and provided for her younger brother, a young man of
twenty, by marrying him to an immensely rich old duchess of eighty. The
Earl of Warwick took all this pretty graciously for a man of his proud
temper, until the question arose to whom the King’s sister, Margaret,
should be married. The Earl of Warwick said, ‘To one of the French
King’s sons,’ and was allowed to go over to the French King to make
friendly proposals for that purpose, and to hold all manner of friendly
interviews with him. But, while he was so engaged, the Woodville party
married the young lady to the Duke of Burgundy! Upon this he came back
in great rage and scorn, and shut himself up discontented, in his
Castle of Middleham.
A reconciliation, though not a very sincere one, was patched up between
the Earl of Warwick and the King, and lasted until the Earl married his
daughter, against the King’s wishes, to the Duke of Clarence. While the
marriage was being celebrated at Calais, the people in the north of
England, where the influence of the Nevil family was strongest, broke
out into rebellion; their complaint was, that England was oppressed and
plundered by the Woodville family, whom they demanded to have removed
from power. As they were joined by great numbers of people, and as they
openly declared that they were supported by the Earl of Warwick, the
King did not know what to do. At last, as he wrote to the earl
beseeching his aid, he and his new son-in-law came over to England, and
began to arrange the business by shutting the King up in Middleham
Castle in the safe keeping of the Archbishop of York; so England was
not only in the strange position of having two kings at once, but they
were both prisoners at the same time.
Even as yet, however, the King-Maker was so far true to the King, that
he dispersed a new rising of the Lancastrians, took their leader
prisoner, and brought him to the King, who ordered him to be
immediately executed. He presently allowed the King to return to
London, and there innumerable pledges of forgiveness and friendship
were exchanged between them, and between the Nevils and the Woodvilles;
the King’s eldest daughter was promised in marriage to the heir of the
Nevil family; and more friendly oaths were sworn, and more friendly
promises made, than this book would hold.
They lasted about three months. At the end of that time, the Archbishop
of York made a feast for the King, the Earl of Warwick, and the Duke of
Clarence, at his house, the Moor, in Hertfordshire. The King was
washing his hands before supper, when some one whispered him that a
body of a hundred men were lying in ambush outside the house. Whether
this were true or untrue, the King took fright, mounted his horse, and
rode through the dark night to Windsor Castle. Another reconciliation
was patched up between him and the King-Maker, but it was a short one,
and it was the last. A new rising took place in Lincolnshire, and the
King marched to repress it. Having done so, he proclaimed that both the
Earl of Warwick and the Duke of Clarence were traitors, who had
secretly assisted it, and who had been prepared publicly to join it on
the following day. In these dangerous circumstances they both took ship
and sailed away to the French court.
And here a meeting took place between the Earl of Warwick and his old
enemy, the Dowager Queen Margaret, through whom his father had had his
head struck off, and to whom he had been a bitter foe. But, now, when
he said that he had done with the ungrateful and perfidious Edward of
York, and that henceforth he devoted himself to the restoration of the
House of Lancaster, either in the person of her husband or of her
little son, she embraced him as if he had ever been her dearest friend.
She did more than that; she married her son to his second daughter, the
Lady Anne. However agreeable this marriage was to the new friends, it
was very disagreeable to the Duke of Clarence, who perceived that his
father-in-law, the King-Maker, would never make _him_ King, now. So,
being but a weak-minded young traitor, possessed of very little worth
or sense, he readily listened to an artful court lady sent over for the
purpose, and promised to turn traitor once more, and go over to his
brother, King Edward, when a fitting opportunity should come.
The Earl of Warwick, knowing nothing of this, soon redeemed his promise
to the Dowager Queen Margaret, by invading England and landing at
Plymouth, where he instantly proclaimed King Henry, and summoned all
Englishmen between the ages of sixteen and sixty, to join his banner.
Then, with his army increasing as he marched along, he went northward,
and came so near King Edward, who was in that part of the country, that
Edward had to ride hard for it to the coast of Norfolk, and thence to
get away in such ships as he could find, to Holland. Thereupon, the
triumphant King-Maker and his false son-in-law, the Duke of Clarence,
went to London, took the old King out of the Tower, and walked him in a
great procession to Saint Paul’s Cathedral with the crown upon his
head. This did not improve the temper of the Duke of Clarence, who saw
himself farther off from being King than ever; but he kept his secret,
and said nothing. The Nevil family were restored to all their honours
and glories, and the Woodvilles and the rest were disgraced. The
King-Maker, less sanguinary than the King, shed no blood except that of
the Earl of Worcester, who had been so cruel to the people as to have
gained the title of the Butcher. Him they caught hidden in a tree, and
him they tried and executed. No other death stained the King-Maker’s
triumph.
To dispute this triumph, back came King Edward again, next year,
landing at Ravenspur, coming on to York, causing all his men to cry
‘Long live King Henry!’ and swearing on the altar, without a blush,
that he came to lay no claim to the crown. Now was the time for the
Duke of Clarence, who ordered his men to assume the White Rose, and
declare for his brother. The Marquis of Montague, though the Earl of
Warwick’s brother, also declining to fight against King Edward, he went
on successfully to London, where the Archbishop of York let him into
the City, and where the people made great demonstrations in his favour.
For this they had four reasons. Firstly, there were great numbers of
the King’s adherents hiding in the City and ready to break out;
secondly, the King owed them a great deal of money, which they could
never hope to get if he were unsuccessful; thirdly, there was a young
prince to inherit the crown; and fourthly, the King was gay and
handsome, and more popular than a better man might have been with the
City ladies. After a stay of only two days with these worthy
supporters, the King marched out to Barnet Common, to give the Earl of
Warwick battle. And now it was to be seen, for the last time, whether
the King or the King-Maker was to carry the day.
While the battle was yet pending, the fainthearted Duke of Clarence
began to repent, and sent over secret messages to his father-in-law,
offering his services in mediation with the King. But, the Earl of
Warwick disdainfully rejected them, and replied that Clarence was false
and perjured, and that he would settle the quarrel by the sword. The
battle began at four o’clock in the morning and lasted until ten, and
during the greater part of the time it was fought in a thick
mist—absurdly supposed to be raised by a magician. The loss of life was
very great, for the hatred was strong on both sides. The King-Maker was
defeated, and the King triumphed. Both the Earl of Warwick and his
brother were slain, and their bodies lay in St. Paul’s, for some days,
as a spectacle to the people.
Margaret’s spirit was not broken even by this great blow. Within five
days she was in arms again, and raised her standard in Bath, whence she
set off with her army, to try and join Lord Pembroke, who had a force
in Wales. But, the King, coming up with her outside the town of
Tewkesbury, and ordering his brother, the Duke of Gloucester, who was a
brave soldier, to attack her men, she sustained an entire defeat, and
was taken prisoner, together with her son, now only eighteen years of
age. The conduct of the King to this poor youth was worthy of his cruel
character. He ordered him to be led into his tent. ‘And what,’ said he,
‘brought _you_ to England?’ ‘I came to England,’ replied the prisoner,
with a spirit which a man of spirit might have admired in a captive,
‘to recover my father’s kingdom, which descended to him as his right,
and from him descends to me, as mine.’ The King, drawing off his iron
gauntlet, struck him with it in the face; and the Duke of Clarence and
some other lords, who were there, drew their noble swords, and killed
him.
His mother survived him, a prisoner, for five years; after her ransom
by the King of France, she survived for six years more. Within three
weeks of this murder, Henry died one of those convenient sudden deaths
which were so common in the Tower; in plainer words, he was murdered by
the King’s order.
Having no particular excitement on his hands after this great defeat of
the Lancaster party, and being perhaps desirous to get rid of some of
his fat (for he was now getting too corpulent to be handsome), the King
thought of making war on France. As he wanted more money for this
purpose than the Parliament could give him, though they were usually
ready enough for war, he invented a new way of raising it, by sending
for the principal citizens of London, and telling them, with a grave
face, that he was very much in want of cash, and would take it very
kind in them if they would lend him some. It being impossible for them
safely to refuse, they complied, and the moneys thus forced from them
were called—no doubt to the great amusement of the King and the
Court—as if they were free gifts, ‘Benevolences.’ What with grants from
Parliament, and what with Benevolences, the King raised an army and
passed over to Calais. As nobody wanted war, however, the French King
made proposals of peace, which were accepted, and a truce was concluded
for seven long years. The proceedings between the Kings of France and
England on this occasion, were very friendly, very splendid, and very
distrustful. They finished with a meeting between the two Kings, on a
temporary bridge over the river Somme, where they embraced through two
holes in a strong wooden grating like a lion’s cage, and made several
bows and fine speeches to one another.
It was time, now, that the Duke of Clarence should be punished for his
treacheries; and Fate had his punishment in store. He was, probably,
not trusted by the King—for who could trust him who knew him!—and he
had certainly a powerful opponent in his brother Richard, Duke of
Gloucester, who, being avaricious and ambitious, wanted to marry that
widowed daughter of the Earl of Warwick’s who had been espoused to the
deceased young Prince, at Calais. Clarence, who wanted all the family
wealth for himself, secreted this lady, whom Richard found disguised as
a servant in the City of London, and whom he married; arbitrators
appointed by the King, then divided the property between the brothers.
This led to ill-will and mistrust between them. Clarence’s wife dying,
and he wishing to make another marriage, which was obnoxious to the
King, his ruin was hurried by that means, too. At first, the Court
struck at his retainers and dependents, and accused some of them of
magic and witchcraft, and similar nonsense. Successful against this
small game, it then mounted to the Duke himself, who was impeached by
his brother the King, in person, on a variety of such charges. He was
found guilty, and sentenced to be publicly executed. He never was
publicly executed, but he met his death somehow, in the Tower, and, no
doubt, through some agency of the King or his brother Gloucester, or
both. It was supposed at the time that he was told to choose the manner
of his death, and that he chose to be drowned in a butt of Malmsey
wine. I hope the story may be true, for it would have been a becoming
death for such a miserable creature.
The King survived him some five years. He died in the forty-second year
of his life, and the twenty-third of his reign. He had a very good
capacity and some good points, but he was selfish, careless, sensual,
and cruel. He was a favourite with the people for his showy manners;
and the people were a good example to him in the constancy of their
attachment. He was penitent on his death-bed for his ‘benevolences,’
and other extortions, and ordered restitution to be made to the people
who had suffered from them. He also called about his bed the enriched
members of the Woodville family, and the proud lords whose honours were
of older date, and endeavoured to reconcile them, for the sake of the
peaceful succession of his son and the tranquillity of England.