THE BATTLE OF ST. ALBANS.
When Henry recovered from his malady York resigned the Protectorship,
and Margaret of Anjou again became all-powerful. The circumstances
were such that the exercise of moderation, toward friends and foes,
would have restored the Lancastrian queen to the good opinion of her
husband's subjects. Unfortunately for her happiness, Margaret allowed
prejudice and passion to hurry her into a defiance of law and decency.
It happened that, during the king's illness, Somerset had been arrested
in the queen's great chamber, and sent to keep his Christmas in the
Tower, as a preliminary to his being brought to trial. No sooner,
however, did Margaret regain authority, than her favorite was set at
liberty; and people learned with indignation that, instead of having
to answer for his offenses against the state, the unworthy noble was
to be appointed Captain-general of Calais. After this, the Yorkists
became convinced that the sword alone could settle the controversy;
and, about the spring of 1455, the duke, repairing to Ludlow, summoned,
for the second time, his retainers, and prepared to display his banner
in actual war against the royal standard of England. He had soon the
gratification of being joined by the two great Earls of Salisbury and
Warwick, by John Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, and by other men whose rank
and nobility lent lustre to the cause. Having armed and arrayed the
Marchmen of Wales, York advanced toward the capital.
War was now inevitable; and Somerset did not shrink from a conflict
with the prince whose life he had sought and whose vengeance he had
defied. A Lancastrian army was forthwith assembled; and at its head
Henry and Somerset, accompanied by many men of influence, marched from
London to face the Yorkists in fight. Sir Philip Wentworth bore the
royal standard; and with the king went Humphrey, Duke of Buckingham,
and his son, Earl Stafford; James Butler, chief of the house of Ormond,
whom Henry had created Earl of Wiltshire; Thomas, Lord Clifford, from
the Craven; and Hotspur's son, Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland,
who, having in youth been restored by Henry the Fifth, now went out, at
the age of threescore, to fight for the crown worn by Henry's son. The
people, however, held aloof from the contest; and the army of the Red
Rose, composed entirely of nobles, with their knights, and squires, and
fighting men, does not appear to have exceeded two thousand in number.
The king had not far to go in search of his kinsman. After passing
the night of Thursday, the 22d of May, at Watford, and proceeding
next morning to St. Albans, the Lancastrians, when about to continue
their march, perceived that the hills in front of them were covered
with armed men, who moved rapidly in battle order toward the ancient
historic town. On observing the approach of the Yorkist foe, the
Lancastrian leaders halted, set up the royal standard, placed troops
under the command of Lord Clifford to guard the barriers, and sent
the Duke of Buckingham to confer with the White Rose chiefs, who had
encamped at Heyfield.
Richard Plantagenet, though a warrior of the highest courage, had no
relish for bloodshed; and he did not forget that those to whom he now
stood opposed were Englishmen like himself. When, therefore, Buckingham
went, in Henry's name, to demand why York thus appeared before his
sovereign in hostile array, the duke professed great loyalty, and
replied that he would at once lay down his arms if the king would
surrender Somerset to justice.
Buckingham, whose affection for the Beauforts was not excessive,
carried this answer to Henry; and the duke's demand for the surrender
of the queen's favorite produced an effect which could hardly have
been anticipated. For once the monk-monarch showed some spark of the
Plantagenet, expressed the utmost scorn at the message, and swore by
St. Edward, as if he had been a conqueror of Evesham, "that he would as
soon deliver up his crown as either Somerset or the meanest soldier in
his camp."
Every prospect of an accommodation was now dissipated; and the warriors
of the White Rose, who had remained inactive for three hours, prepared
for an encounter. Having addressed his adherents, York advanced, with
banners streaming and clarions sounding, and at noon commenced that
struggle, which, thirty years later, was terminated on the field of
Bosworth.
From occupying St. Albans the Lancastrians had the advantage of
position, and such hopes of victory that Somerset's men were ordered to
put to death all the Yorkists who should be taken prisoners. Moreover,
Clifford made a brave defense, and for a time the duke was kept in
check at the barriers. The Yorkists, among other weapons of offense,
had guns; and Warwick and Salisbury had such a degree of skill in using
them as their enemies could not boast of. Yet so steadily were they
resisted by Clifford that the prospect of coming to close conflict with
the foe appeared distant; and the partisans of York looked somewhat
blank. But Warwick was not a man to yield to obstacles. Leading his
soldiers round part of the hill on which St. Albans is situated, that
great war-chief broke down a high wall, ordered his trumpets to sound,
crossed the gardens which the wall inclosed, and, shouting "A Warwick!
A Warwick!" charged forward upon the recoiling foe. On the Lancastrian
ranks Warwick's presence produced an immediate impression; and the
barriers having been burst, the Yorkists, encouraged by "The Stout
Earl's" war-cry, rushed into the town, and came face to face with their
foes.
A conflict now took place among the houses, in the lanes, in the
streets, and in the market-place. The fight was fierce, as could not
fail to be the case in a struggle between men who had long cherished,
while restraining, their mortal hate; and the ancient town was soon
strewn with traces of the battle, and crimsoned with the blood of the
slain. The king's friends made a desperate resistance; and delayed the
victory till the clash of mail reached the monks in the abbey. But
Warwick cheered on archer and spearman to the assault; and York, not to
be baffled, re-enforced every party that was hard-pressed, and pressed
forward fresh warriors to relieve the weary and the wounded. Humphrey,
Earl Stafford, bit the dust; Clifford fell, to be cruelly avenged on
a more bloody day; and Northumberland, who had seen so many years and
fought so many battles, died under the weapons of his foes.
Somerset appears at first to have fought with a courage worthy of the
reputation he had won on the Continent; and on hearing that Clifford's
soldiers were giving way before Warwick's mighty onslaught he rushed
gallantly to the rescue. The chief of the Beauforts, however, did
not live to bring aid to the men of the Craven. Years before, the
Lancastrian duke had been admonished by a fortune-teller to beware of a
castle; and, finding himself suddenly under a tavern bearing that sign,
the warning occurred to his memory. Superstitious like his neighbors,
Somerset lost his presence of mind, gave himself up for lost, became
bewildered, and was beaten down and slain. The fortune of the day being
decidedly against the Red Rose, the Earl of Wiltshire cast his harness
into a ditch and spurred fast from the lost field; while Sir Philip
Wentworth, equally careful of his own safety, threw away the royal
standard, and fled toward Suffolk. The Lancastrians, beaten and aware
of Somerset's fall, rushed through the gardens and leaped over hedges,
leaving their arms in the ditches and woods that they might escape the
more swiftly.
Ere this Henry had been wounded in the neck by an arrow. Sad and
sorrowful, he sought shelter in a thatched house occupied by a
tanner. Thither, fresh from victory, went the duke; and treated his
vanquished kinsman with every respect. Kneeling respectfully, the
conqueror protested his loyalty, and declared his readiness to obey
the king. "Then," said Henry, "stop the pursuit and slaughter, and
I will do whatever you will." The duke, having ordered a cessation
of hostilities, led the king to the abbey; the royal kinsmen, after
praying together before the shrine of England's first martyr, journeyed
to London; and Margaret of Anjou, then with her son at Greenwich,
learned, with dismay, that her favorite was a corpse and her husband a
captive. At such a time, while shedding tears of bitterness and doubt
within the palace built by Humphrey of Gloucester, the young queen must
have reflected, with remorse, on the part she had taken against "The
Good Duke," and considered how different a face affairs might have worn
in 1455, if she had not, in 1447, consented to the violent removal of
the last stately pillar that supported the house of Lancaster.