curtains in the little turret-room at Amboise where the chamberers were
lodged. Avice was still asleep, but Frideswide, hearing sounds of life
without, and fearing it might be late, roused her, and they dressed
quickly, and hastened to the Countess's rooms. They found that lady
refreshed by her night's rest, and in the highest spirits. From the
sanguine tone of her conversation, it might have been supposed that the
conquest of England was only a thing to ask and have. They would soon
be back at Warwick or Middleham,--there could not be the least doubt of
it: King Henry would be restored amid the acclamations of a delighted
and loyal people, that rebel would have his head cut off, and all would
be smooth as a looking-glass, and sweet as a bouquet of roses, for ever
thenceforward.
It was not Frideswide's place to utter a word. But in her heart she
thought that she had no wish to return to Middleham. Were it in her
power to return to Lovell Tower, that would have been a different
matter.
The process of dressing over, the ladies descended to Queen Marguerite's
drawing-room, there to wait till the chapel bell rang for matins. The
Queen herself appeared in a few minutes, and gave them a kindly
greeting. She was accompanied by a youth of seventeen years, in whom it
was easy to recognise the Prince of Wales.
Edward Prince of Wales was "only the child of his mother." Neither in
person nor character did he bear any resemblance to the King. He was
tall for his age, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and superlatively handsome.
His beauty, nevertheless, was of rather too feminine a cast--though
there was no shade of weakness in his character, unless too great a
tendency to fiery rashness be considered in that light.
It may be said that the Prince did not enter the room unattended. A
little allegorical person accompanied him, Cupid by name, who is said to
take great delight in the making of mischief and the breaking of hearts.
In this instance he certainly came for the latter pursuit. Well would
it have been for Warwick's youngest and sweetest daughter if the
electric spark had not been shot that day from heart to heart, which was
to end in so soon making her a widow indeed, with a heart which could
throb no more to any human love.
The King of France was now on his way to the chapel, as a loud ringing
of bells and a trumpet-blast informed every body within hearing. Queen
Marguerite marshalled her guests, giving her own hand to Clarence, the
Prince conducting the Duchess. In pairs they slowly filed down the
stairs of the tower, and crossed the court-yard to the chapel, where the
English Queen and Prince sat in the royal traverse, the former on the
right hand of King Louis, and the latter on the left of Queen Carlotta.
Frideswide felt quite ready to echo Christian's opinion that neither
King nor Queen of France was much worth looking at. King Louis had
strong and by no means beautiful features, and he stooped in the
shoulders to an extent which approached an appearance of deformity. The
Queen's features were more regular, but her face had a horse-like
length, and every thing about her was on a large and rather coarse
scale. From the constant glances of fear cast by the Queen upon her
husband, Frideswide readily guessed that her married life was not a
happy one. In truth, poor Carlotta's brains had been frightened out of
her. She was not naturally at all deficient in intellectual power: but
eighteen years spent under the influence of unceasing terror had so
completely broken her spirit and crushed her capacities of all kinds,
that Carlotta was now a simple nonentity--good to sit, clad in robes and
jewels, at a pageant, but in all other respects, outside her children's
nursery, good for nothing at all.
After matins, breakfast was served in the Queen's drawing-room.
Breakfast was only now beginning to be considered a social meal.
Hitherto it had been much what afternoon tea is now--a light repast, to
which people came or not as they chose, and chiefly affected by women
and invalids. It had, therefore, mainly consisted of bread or cakes.
Now fish and meat made their appearance in addition, and also the
acceptable novelty of butter--novel, that is to say, in its new form of
bread and butter. It had long been used in cooking: but about this time
it permanently took the place of dripping as a relish to bread. Wine,
ale, and milk, were the beverages used.
Never, perhaps, to the same extent as at this time, did the staff of
life appear under so many different forms. The more delicate kinds were
termed simnel and _pain de main_: wassel was the best kind of common
bread; cocket was a spongy loaf of cheaper flour; maslin was made of
wheat mixed with oats and barley. Griddle-cakes were peculiar to Wales
and the counties bordering thereon. Spice-bread was plum-cake in all
varieties of richness. There was also brown bread, and Christmas bread,
which last was made of fine flour, milk, and eggs. Manchet bread, which
was of high class, seems to have borne its distinctive name rather in
reference to shape than to material, and probably resembled a Yorkshire
tea-cake.[#] There were beside all these, rolls, biscuits and cakes of
all sorts, maccaroons, gingerbread, and marchpane--a sweet cake of the
maccaroon type.
[#] This is the explanation usually given by antiquaries; but in
Lancashire, within living memory, a manchet was a small square loaf of
very white bread. Some writers make manchet (afterwards termed _chet_
bread) the name of the simnel loaf; this is perhaps the true
explanation.
After breakfast, Queen Marguerite proceeded to business. She held a
long sitting of her council--for the King being a prisoner, she was
virtually and unavoidably the Lancastrian Sovereign. The Prince was yet
too young to assume this position, though circumstances had forced him
to the front so early that his intellect was beyond his years. He had
inherited nothing of the mental weakness of his father.
The council consisted of the Prince, Warwick, Clarence, Oxford, Jaspar
Tudor Earl of Pembroke (brother of King Henry by the mother's side),
Walter Lyhart Bishop of Norwich (the Queen's Confessor), Ralph
Mackarell, her Chancellor, and several gentlemen of less note who were
in the Queen's suite. The only ladies admitted in attendance on the
Queen were the Countess of Warwick and the Lady de Vivonne, the latter
of whom understood no English. Any thing of serious consequence could
therefore be said in that tongue.
English had now almost entirely taken the place so many centuries held
by French as the Court language, and there is very little difference
between the English of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. During the
reign of Elizabeth a polishing process was slowly progressing, which has
never ceased,--though how far all changes in this respect are
improvements, may reasonably be open to question.
The idea of a new campaign was now mooted. Marguerite was sure of help
from King Louis. The Duke of Burgundy was a more doubtful ally, who
vacillated between the rivals as inclination or policy led him, and who
was at that time recently married to the youngest sister of Edward IV.,
and yet entertaining and pensioning a number of the Lancastrian fugitive
nobles. Just now the Red Rose was in the ascendant at his Court. His
personal liking for Edward was doubtful, and his fear and dislike of
Warwick were not doubtful. Two of the most prominent Lancastrian
nobles, the Dukes of Exeter and Somerset, both of whom were at his
Court, did their utmost to incline him in their own direction, and the
result was that he openly offered his assistance to Queen Marguerite,
while he privately sent underhand information to Edward of all her plans
so far as they were known to him. This, at least, is generally
believed. It is, nevertheless, very possible, that the Duchess Margaret
may be really responsible for much of her lord's apparent treachery.
She was a woman to whose soul conspiracy and scheming were as the breath
of life.
The preparations for the campaign were quietly maturing as the summer
advanced. It was arranged that Warwick was to precede the Queen,
landing about September, and she was to follow with more troops, two
months later. But in the mean time it was desirable that some means
should be found to make the interests of Warwick identical with those of
King Henry. No one knew better than Marguerite that Warwick's fidelity
was an article that had its price, and that he might be expected to
serve any cause just so long as that cause served him. He was
perpetually at see-saw, and a very little additional pressure at either
end would hoist or depress him in an instant. The fact of his
daughter's marriage to Clarence made him more dubious than ever. True,
Clarence himself was at the present moment a Lancastrian: but how long
would he remain so? He was even less to be trusted of the two: for while
solid advantage was required to weigh with Warwick, caprice was enough
at any time to sway the actions of Clarence. Something, therefore, must
be done to provide a make-weight for Warwick's family connection with
Edward: and while the Queen was considering how it could be done, King
Louis made a suggestion to her which showed the best way to do it.
Human hearts will break through all state trappings, and will insist on
being heard even through the roar of revolution. The young Prince of
Wales, barely seventeen, had fallen passionately in love with the Lady
Anne Neville, Warwick's youngest daughter, who was a year younger than
himself. But people were grown up at that age in the eventful fifteenth
century, which acted like a hot-bed upon the intellect and judgment of
its children. That the Prince should marry the Lady Anne Neville was
politically most devoutly to be wished: it was ardently desired by both
the parties most concerned, by Warwick himself, and by every body but
the one person into whose hands the matter had to come for decision.
But so well were the feelings of Queen Marguerite known to all around
her, that no one but the King of France himself dared to suggest to her
the marriage of her son with Warwick's daughter. And when suggested,
the proposal was at first received by the Queen with a blaze of
indignation. The wrath was all for Warwick,--certainly not for the
innocent Anne, whom she loved dearly for her own sake.
"What!" cried the Queen passionately, "does he ask to marry his daughter
to the son of the woman he traduced? The wounds that he has inflicted
on me will bleed till the day of judgment."[#]
[#] These are the Queen's own words.
King Louis had need of all his craft and cajolery (in both which he was
an adept when he chose) to bring the insulted woman to what he
considered reason. Perhaps, after all, she yielded rather to the
pleading eyes of her darling than to any political argument. But she
did yield: and usually, when Marguerite resolved to do any thing, she
did it graciously.
The marriage of the Prince of Wales and the Lady Anne was celebrated in
the chapel of Amboise, in July or August, 1470. It was attended by the
usual ludicrous stratagems on the part of King Louis, who loved grand
pageants only less than he detested paying bills for them. Accordingly,
when hangings were to be put up, he bought new velvet for those parts
where they could be seen, and made old serve wherever they could not.
On the present occasion, His Majesty had new robes made for himself and
the Queen, but the fronts only were of previously unused material,--for,
as the King very truly observed, "when we are sitting in the traverse in
chapel, who will see the backs of our clothes?" On this economical
principle, the gold trimmings on Queen Carlotta's dress were gold in
front, but at the back tinsel was employed. A splendid diamond served
as a button to fasten the ostrich feather in His Majesty's hat (which
was of a round form turned up with fur, like a tall "pork-pie" hat), but
the velvet of which the back portion was composed was creased and worn,
and the back fur had been cut from an old cloak of the Queen's.
Queen Marguerite practised her economies in another fashion. Economy
was far more necessary to her than to Louis, for she literally lived
upon alms: but when she found velvet beyond her purse, she dressed
herself in honest camlet, or, had it come to that, in uncompromising
serge. In truth, Marguerite was too high-souled to measure a man's
worth by that of his clothes. In velvet or in serge, she was still the
Queen of England. By a little pinching, in this instance, velvet was
obtained for the bridegroom's dress: but there was not enough for the
Queen also, and she therefore appeared contentedly in sendal, which cost
less, nor was she so mean a soul as to feel one pang in doing so.
Warwick, who acquired wealth not as he ought, but as he could, had cash
enough, and exhibited the fact by showering jewellery on the bride.
The ceremony over, congratulations were offered in abundance, and all
the suite knelt to kiss the hand of the Princess. It was the general
opinion that a splendid future lay before the young pair,--how could it
be otherwise? They were already dowered with rank, beauty, intellect,
and devoted love. What did they lack except wealth and success, which
the approaching campaign would undoubtedly confer on them? O blind
eyes, which saw not the Angel of Death stand with folded wings behind
the bridegroom!--which read not the scroll, written within and without,
with desolation, and mourning, and woe, to be crushed into those few and
evil years which were the portion of the bride! Woe unto them that
laughed now, for they should weep!
The remainder of the summer was busily filled with preparations for the
approaching campaign. On an early day in September, the Duke of
Clarence, and the Earls of Warwick and Oxford, took leave of the ladies,
and with banners flying, at the head of a mercenary host, set out for
England.
"God guard you, my Lady!" said Warwick, with his last kiss to his wife.
"Farewell, my pretty ones!" to his daughters. "Only a short farewell.
We meet at Westminster, two months hence, if His will be."
It was not. Never again were they to see his face.
Queen Marguerite did not remain long at Amboise after Warwick's
departure. She removed to Paris, to be nearer the scene of action,
accompanied by the Prince and Princess, the Countess of Warwick, the
Countess of Wiltshire, and the rest of her ladies. A very comical story
is told of the husband of this Countess of Wiltshire at the battle of
St. Albans, where, says the sly old chronicler, "the said James set the
King's banner again an house end, and fought manly with the heels, for
he was afeared of losing of beauty, for he was named the fairest knight
of this land."[#]
[#] Gregory's Chronicle.
On the thirteenth of September, Warwick and his army landed at Plymouth,
some at Dartmouth and Exmouth. The Duke of Burgundy tried in vain to
intercept him, his vessels being scattered by a great storm through
which Warwick passed safely. Burgundy, however, sent word to Edward of
the port and time of Warwick's choice: but Edward was on a hunting
expedition, and, true to his character, he left matters to look out for
themselves. A man of no foresight, vigilance, nor strength of character,
but capable of sudden rushes of violent bravery, it was Edward's habit
to trust to the chapter of circumstances, which hitherto had usually
turned in his favour. Moreover, he had in this instance a secret source
of hopefulness, of which Warwick was not aware. Private overtures had
been going on between him and Clarence, by means of a lady in the
household of the Duchess, whom Edward had sent over primed with
instructions. Ostensibly she came, of her own accord, to join her
mistress, and her _role_ of envoy was never suspected, for "she was no
fool, nor loquacious."[#] Beyond this, Edward placed trust in Warwick's
brothers, of whose fidelity he felt no doubt. The past was apparently
forgotten.
[#] Comines.--Who this ambassadress was is not known.
Warwick had not landed a week when he found the whole country pouring in
to aid him. He set his face towards Bristol, where he had left his
heavy baggage when he fled to France. Here he was well received; and
after three days spent in collecting forces, he marched upon Nottingham
at the head of sixty thousand men.
King Edward was now at Lynn, in a fortified house, to which there was no
access except by one bridge. He had "begun to look about him" when he
heard of Warwick's approach, but he does not appear to have done much
beyond it.[#] As he sat at dinner, news was brought to him that his
trusted partisan, the Marquis Montague, had mounted his horse, and was
crying, along with others, "God save King Henry!" Edward treated the
first rumour as mere nonsense: but when it was repeated, and Lord Rivers
shook his head with the remark that "things did not look well," Edward
despatched Lord Hastings to see if it were true. He returned with the
news that it was less than the truth. Nearly the whole army had
deserted to Warwick, as represented by his brother Montague. If Edward
meant to save himself at all, he must escape now.
[#] Several chroniclers state that Edward fled from Nottingham to Lynn
when he heard of Warwick's coming: but no hint of this movement is given
by Comines, who tells us that he received his version of the narrative
from Edward's own lips.
At anchor off Lynn lay one English and two Dutch ships, ready to sail,
having come laden with provisions for Edward's army. He hastily
summoned such of his nobles as were faithful to him, and about seven
hundred of the army, and fled on board one of the Dutch ships. Lord
Hastings stayed behind to give a piece of deceitful advice to his
men--namely, that they should join Warwick, but retain their allegiance
to King Edward and himself--and then followed his master. So hurried
was the flight that Edward had no money, and no clothes but those he
wore, and a cloak "lined with beautiful martens," which he had probably
caught up in departing. The three ships sailed away from Lynn with all
the speed they could make, and the day, which had opened on the tenth
year of Edward IV., closed on the forty-ninth of Henry VI.
Once more--and though he knew it not, for the last time--Warwick "had
all England at his bidding." He was king in all but name, for King
Henry still lay a prisoner in the Tower, and Queen Marguerite was in
France. Warwick sent off Sir John Clare with hasty triumphant
despatches to the Queen, and himself marched on London.
Of course the news of his coming reached the capital before him, and the
citizens turned out to greet their favourite. Warwick's popularity with
them is said to have been due to three causes: first, he flattered them;
secondly, he allowed them to engage in any acts of piracy they pleased
with impunity; and lastly, he took care to be always heavily in debt to
various citizens.[#] It became therefore the interest of London that
Warwick should triumph.
[#] Comines.
Warwick's first act was to march on the Tower, and summon it to
surrender. The terrified Constable delivered his keys to the Lord
Mayor, who opened the gates for Warwick. Jaspar Earl of Pembroke and
John Earl of Oxford entered with him. They went straight to the chamber
in which the King was confined, and found that simple-minded man calmly
reading his Psalter, and not more disturbed by the tumult than to look
up and say,--"Pray you, Master Gaoler, what noise is this without?"
But Henry's tone changed the next instant, and the prisoner became the
king.
"Ha! my Lord of Warwick here!--and Jaspar--my dear brother!" and he gave
him his hand affectionately. "My Lord of Oxford--God give you good
morrow all! What means this?"
Warwick knelt at the feet of the King.
"It means, my Lord, that God hath saved King Henry."
And from all around rose the chorus. The King gazed from one to another
as though he scarcely believed the evidence of his senses.
"Where are my wife and son?" was his next query.
"At Paris, my Lord, and soon to come hither, if God be serven."
"And the Earl of March?"
This was Edward's proper title in the eyes of a Lancastrian.
"Fled, my Lord,--fled the realm: and his wife is in sanctuary with her
childre."
It would not have been Henry VI. if he had not answered, "Poor souls!"
"All is o'er of the rebellion," broke in Oxford, always fiery and rash:
"all is o'er, your Highness; and we pray you give us leave to conduct
you to your own lodging."
"Nay," said the King, kneeling down at the table; "tarry till I have
thanked God."
Then, the rest kneeling around bareheaded, he poured forth a fervent
thanksgiving. Very simple as this man was in worldly wisdom, he was
eloquent when he spoke to God. Then they took from him the prison garb,
and attired him in royal robes, and led him to "the King's lodgings" in
the White Tower.
Here a singular ceremony took place. Warwick and his colleagues were
not content with merely restoring King Henry, but deemed it a better
safeguard to give him the additional advantage of popular election.
Accordingly they held a formal _plebiscite_--of whom composed we are not
told,--whether simply of the little group of Lancastrian nobles, or of
their army of four thousand men, or generally of the citizens of London.
This process completed, the King was set on horseback, and conducted to
the Bishop of London's palace.
But Warwick soon discovered that he had an account to settle with his
intensely discontented son-in-law. The deposition of Edward, in the
eyes of Clarence, was not at all equivalent to the restoration of Henry.
He had been ready enough to displace his brother, but his
intention--which Warwick had frustrated--had been to set himself, not
Henry, on the vacant throne. Clarence was in a very sulky temper, and
required a tiresome amount of smoothing. This desirable end was at last
accomplished; and having been joined by his excellent brother, the
Archbishop of York, who was always constant to one side--the winning
one--Warwick proceeded to get up a splendid procession to St. Paul's
Cathedral, which King Henry entered in state on the thirteenth of
October. He wore his crown, and Warwick carried his train, while Oxford
bore the sword before him. After the procession, Edward of March was
solemnly proclaimed a usurper through London.
Meanwhile, Edward, deserted and destitute, chased by Esterlings across
the sea, ran his vessel into Alkmaar, and landed, accompanied by his
brother Richard and his few faithful adherents. He had no money to pay
the captain, and he gave him all that he had, his fur-lined cloak. The
Lord of Gruthuse, Governor of Holland for the Duke of Burgundy, received
the fugitives kindly, provided them with clothing, and conducted them to
the Hague, whence Edward sent a messenger to the Duke to notify his
arrival. This news was by no means a source of pleasure to that royal
trimmer, Duke Charles, whose endeavours to keep in with both parties are
as amusing to readers of history as they were troublesome to himself.
He did, however, grant to his brother-in-law a pension of five hundred
crowns per month; but he gave him little encouragement to come on to his
court, whither Edward nevertheless proceeded at once, as soon as he had
money to do so. When Edward presented himself at St. Pol, where the
Court was then residing, the poor Duke was in a ludicrous state of
indecision. On his one hand was his wife Margaret, to whom he was really
attached, as he showed by marrying her as soon as he became his own
master--his father having set his face against the marriage for
political reasons: on the other side, the Lancastrian Dukes of Exeter
and Somerset, who had resided for some years at his Court, and were his
chosen friends. On both sides, as it seemed, was his own interest. At
last he contrived to find a way out of the difficulty, which, as usual
in such circumstances, was a crooked one. He publicly proclaimed his
intention of giving no assistance to Edward, and forbade any of his
subjects to enlist with him: while privately he presented him with fifty
thousand florins, and quietly made ready at Ter Veere four or five large
ships of his own navy, and fourteen more hired from the Esterlings, or
merchants of the Hanse Towns.