THE LANCASTRIANS IN EXILE.
On that day when Lord Montagu inflicted so severe a defeat on the
Lancastrians at Hexham, and while the shouts of victory rose and
swelled with the breeze, a lady of thirty-five, but still possessing
great personal attractions, accompanied by a boy just entering his
teens, fled for safety into a forest which then extended over the
district, and was known far and wide as a den of outlaws. The lady was
Margaret of Anjou; the boy was Edward of Lancaster; and, unfortunately
for them, under the circumstances, the dress and appearance of the
royal fugitives marked them too plainly as personages of the highest
rank.
While treading the forest path with a tremulous haste, which indicated
some apprehension of pursuit, Margaret and her son suddenly found
themselves face to face with a band of ferocious robbers. The bandits
were far from paying any respect to the queen's rank or sex. Having
seized her jewels and other valuables, they dragged her forcibly before
the chief of the gang, held a drawn sword before her eyes, and menaced
her with instant death. Margaret besought them to spare her life,
but her prayers and tears had no effect whatever in melting their
hearts; and they appeared on the point of carrying their threats into
execution, when, luckily, they fell to wrangling over the partition of
the spoil, and, ere long, took to settling the dispute by strength of
hand.
Alarmed, as Margaret well might be, she did not lose her presence of
mind. No sooner did she observe the bandits fighting among themselves
than she looked around for a way of escape; and, seizing a favorable
opportunity, she hurried her son into a thicket which concealed them
from view. Pursuing their way till the shades of evening closed over
the forest, the royal fugitives, faint from fatigue and want of food,
seated themselves under an oak-tree, and bewailed their fate.
No wonder that, at such moments of desolation and distress, the
Lancastrian queen felt a temptation to rid herself of a life which
misfortune made so miserable. Even the heroic spirit of Margaret might
have given way under circumstances so depressing as those in which she
was now placed. But a new and unexpected danger occurred to recall her
to energy while indulging in those pensive reflections; for, as the
moon began to shine through the branches of the trees, she suddenly
became aware of the approach of an armed man of huge stature. At first
she was under the impression that he was one of the robbers from whom
she had already experienced treatment so cruel, and gave herself up
for lost; but seeing, by the light of the moon, that his dress and
appearance were quite different, she breathed a prayer, and resolved
upon a great effort to save herself and her son.
Margaret knew that escape was impossible. She, therefore, made no
attempt at flight; but, rising, she took her son by the hand, advanced
to meet the man, explained in pathetic language the distress in which
she was, and, as a woman and a princess, claimed his protection. "It
is the unfortunate Queen of England," said Margaret, "who has fallen
into your hands;" and then, suiting the action to the word, she added
in accents not to be resisted, "There, my friend, I commit to your care
the safety of your king's son."
The queen had taken a bold course, but she had correctly calculated
the effect of her appeal. Her courage and presence of mind had saved
her. The generosity of the outlaw prevailed; and, touched with the
confidence reposed in him, he threw himself at Margaret's feet, and
vowed to do all in his power to save the mother and the son. Having
once promised, the man of the forest kept his word with a loyalty
that his betters might have envied. He conducted the fugitives to his
dwelling in a rock, which is still shown as "The Queen's Cave,"
instructed his wife to do every thing that would tend to their comfort,
and promised to discover for them the means of escape.
[Illustration: THE QUEEN IN THE OUTLAW'S CAVE.]
Leaving Margaret and her son in his cave, the mouth of which was
protected by the bank of a rivulet, and screened from view by
brushwood, the outlaw went to inquire after such of her friends as had
escaped the carnage of Hexham. More fortunate than could have been
expected, he met Sir Peter Brezé, who was wandering about looking for
the queen, and, soon after, Brezé found the Duke of Exeter, who had
concealed himself in a neighboring village, and, with the duke, Edmund
Beaufort, who had now, by the death of his brother on the scaffold,
become head of the house of Somerset. With these noblemen, Margaret and
the prince went secretly to Carlisle, and there, with the assistance of
the generous outlaw, embarked for Kirkcudbright.
Margaret, on reaching Scotland, visited Edinburgh to make another
appeal to the government, but was not successful in obtaining farther
aid. In fact, although the matrimonial negotiations between Mary of
Gueldres and Edward of York had come to naught, the Scottish government
was now utterly hostile to the interests of Lancaster. The Duke of
Burgundy, hereditary foe of Margaret, had sent Louis de Bruges, one of
his noblemen, as embassador to the Scottish court, and contrived to
make the regency play false, repudiate the marriage between the Prince
of Wales and the Princess of Scotland, and conclude a treaty with the
new King of England.
The Lancastrians now perceived that for the present action was
impossible, and exile inevitable. Even in France their influence had
diminished; for, since Margaret's visit to Paris, Mary of Anjou, her
aunt and the mother of Louis, had died; and less inclination than
ever felt the crafty king to make sacrifices for his fiery kinswoman.
Margaret, therefore, yielded to fate, and, not without vowing vengeance
on Burgundy, submitted to the harsh necessity of once more returning
to the Continent. With this view, she repaired to Bamburgh, which was
still held by Lancastrians, and with her son, and Sir Peter Brezé, and
seven ladies, she embarked for France.
It was summer, but notwithstanding the season the weather proved
unpropitious, and the unfortunate queen, driven by adverse winds, was
under the necessity of putting into a port belonging to the Duke of
Burgundy. Enemy of her father as the duke was, Margaret determined upon
seeing him, and, suppressing all feelings of delicacy, she dispatched a
messenger to demand an interview.
The house of Burgundy, like that of Anjou, derived descent from the
kings of France, but had been blessed with far fairer fortunes. About
1360, on the death of Philip de Rouvre, the dukedom, having reverted
to the crown, was bestowed by King John on his fourth son, Philip
the Bold. Philip played his cards well. While his brother Charles
was struggling with the English, he became an independent prince by
espousing the heiress of Flanders; and his son, John the Fearless,
played a conspicuous part in those civil commotions that preceded
the battle of Agincourt. The son of John, known as Philip the Good,
affected greater state than any prince of his age, and instituted the
order of the Golden Fleece to mark the splendor of his reign.
Philip's first wife was Michelle, daughter of the King of France, and
sister of Katherine de Valois. His second wife was Isabel of Portugal,
a granddaughter of John of Gaunt. The good duke was, therefore, nearly
and doubly connected with the house of Lancaster. Unfortunately,
however, Philip had proved an enemy of King René; and Margaret,
who from infancy had cherished a bitter hatred toward the house of
Burgundy, was reputed to have vowed that if ever the duke was at her
mercy the executioner's axe should pass between his head and his
shoulders. Such having been the language held by the queen, it is not
wonderful that the duke, while receiving her message with politeness,
should have pleaded sickness as an excuse for not granting her a
personal interview.
Margaret was in no mood to be satisfied with excuses. She had expressed
her intention of seeing the duke, and was determined to accomplish her
purpose. She was hardly in a condition, indeed, to pay a royal visit,
for her purse was empty, and her wardrobe reduced to the smallest
compass. But, scorning to be subdued by fortune, the queen hired a cart
covered with canvas, and, leaving her son at Bruges, commenced her
progress to St. Pol, where the duke was then residing. It was about the
time when Margaret, dressed in threadbare garments, was traveling from
Bruges to St. Pol in a covered cart, that, in the Abbey of Reading, her
maid of honor, Elizabeth Woodville, was presented to peers and prelates
as Queen of England.
While pursuing her journey, with a spirit of heroism which set outward
circumstances at defiance, Margaret was met by Charles the Rash, that
impersonation of feudal pride, whose exploits against the Swiss, when
Duke of Burgundy, have been celebrated by Sir Walter Scott. Charles,
at this time, had hardly passed the age of thirty, and, as son and
heir of Philip the Good, with whom he was then at enmity, bore the
title of Count of Charolois. As the son of Isabel of Portugal, and
great-grandson of John of Gaunt, the count had always declared himself
friendly to the house of Lancaster, and he now manifested his sympathy
by treating Margaret with chivalrous respect. Moreover, on being made
aware of her extreme poverty, Charolois presented her with five hundred
crowns; and Burgundy, hearing of the landing of English forces at
Calais, sent a body of his archers to escort her from Bethune to St.
Pol. Having, after her interview with Charolois, pursued her way toward
Bethune, and escaped some English horsemen who lay in wait to arrest
her, she reached St. Pol in safety.
Duke Philip did not immediately grant Margaret an interview. After some
delay, however, he indulged her wish; and, touched with compassion at
the sight of a great queen reduced to a plight so hapless, entertained
her with princely courtesy, and treated her with all the honors due
to royalty. Having listened to the story of Margaret's woes, he gave
her two thousand crowns of gold, and advised her to await events with
patience. As Margaret parted from the duke her heart melted, and she
shed tears as she bade adieu to the old man whom she had threatened to
behead as she had done York and Salisbury. Perhaps on that occasion
she, for one of the first times in her life, felt something like
remorse. "The queen," says Monstrelet, "repented much and thought
herself unfortunate that she had not sooner thrown herself on the
protection of the noble Duke of Burgundy, as her affairs would probably
have prospered better."
Having returned to Bruges, and been joined by the Prince of Wales,
Margaret paid a visit to the Count of Charolois. Never were royal
exiles more royally treated. The count exhibited a degree of delicacy
and generosity worthy of an earlier era; and, indeed, was so
deferential, that the Prince of Wales, who had known little of royalty
but its perils and misfortunes, could not refrain from expressing his
surprise.
"These honors," said the boy, "are not due from you to us; neither
in your father's dominions should precedence be given to persons so
destitute as we are."
"Unfortunate though you be," answered the count, "you are the son of
the King of England, while I am only the son of a ducal sovereign; and
that is not so high a rank."
Leaving Bruges with her son, Margaret was escorted to Barr with all
the honor due to the royal rank. At Barr, the exiled queen was met
and welcomed by her father, King René, who gave her an old castle in
Verdun as a residence till better days should come. Thither Margaret
went to establish her little court; and thither, to be educated in the
accomplishments in fashion at the period, she carried the young prince
around whom all her hopes now clustered.
Two hundred Lancastrians of name and reputation shared the exile of
Margaret of Anjou. Among these were Lord Kendal, a Gascon; the Bishop
of St. Asaph, the young Lord De Roos and his kinsman, Sir Henry; John
Courtenay, younger brother of Devon's Earl; Edmund Beaufort, the
new Duke of Somerset, and his brother John, whom the Lancastrians
called Marquis of Dorset; Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter--always,
notwithstanding his relationship to Edward, faithful to the Red Rose;
Jasper Tudor, who clung to Lancaster as if with a prophetic notion that
with the fortunes of the house were associated those of his own family;
John Morton, Parson of Blokesworth, whose talents subsequently made him
a cardinal and an archbishop; and Sir John Fortescue, Chief Justice of
England, one of the most upright judges who ever wore the ermine. Such
men, when the fortunes of the house of Lancaster were at their worst,
were prepared to suffer poverty and want in Henry's cause.
The banished queen could ill brook the obscurity of Verdun. It soon
appeared that, notwithstanding so many disheartening reverses, Margaret
retained her courage unimpaired; and that want, disappointment,
mortification, had been unable to break her spirit or conquer her
ambition. Hardly had the court of the exiles been formed at Verdun,
when the queen renewed her efforts to regain the crown which she had
already found so thorny.
At that time Alphonso the Fifth reigned in Portugal; and Portugal
was rich, owing to the quantity of gold yearly brought from Guinea.
Moreover, King Alphonso was a remarkable man. In his fiery nature were
blended all the elements of love, chivalry, and religion; and though
living in the fifteenth century he resembled a paladin of the age of
Roland and Oliver. Through his grandmother, Philippa of Lancaster,
Alphonso inherited the blood of John of Gaunt; and it was supposed
that he would naturally feel much of that sympathy for the house of
Lancaster which had been ever expressed by the Count of Charolois.
Accordingly, Margaret turned her eyes toward Portugal for aid, and
employed John Butler, Earl of Ormond, to enlist Alphonso in her cause.
Ormond, who, upon the execution of his brother, the Earl of Wiltshire,
after Towton, had become the chief of the Butlers, was one of the
most accomplished gentlemen of his age, and a master of the various
languages then spoken in Europe. No fitter embassador could have been
found; but he was not successful. In fact, although Alphonso was all
his life engaged in chimerical enterprises, he could hardly have
indulged in the delusion of being able to wrest a crown from Edward
Plantagenet and Richard Neville. Not even that knight-errant would risk
reputation against such odds. At all events the negotiation appears
to have come to naught; and Ormond, doubtless, convinced that the
fortunes of Lancaster were hopeless, returned to England, and made his
submission. Edward restored the accomplished nobleman to the honors and
estates of the Butlers, with a complimentary remark. "If good-breeding
and liberal qualities," said the king, "were lost in all the world,
they would still be found in the Earl of Ormond."
About the time when Ormond's mission failed, Margaret received
intelligence that her husband had fallen into the hands of her enemies.
Finding, perhaps, that Scottish hospitality was hard to bear, Henry,
about a year after Hexham, removed to the north of England, and in
July, 1465, while sitting at dinner in Waddington Hall, he was seized
by Sir John Harrington, and sent prisoner to London. At Islington the
captive king was met by Warwick, who lodged him securely in the Tower;
and Henry, treated with humanity, forgot, in the practice of a monkish
devotion, the crown he had lost and the world he had left.
The captivity of their king was not the only misfortune which, at this
period, befell the Lancastrians. In 1467, Harleck Castle, their last
strong-hold, was under the necessity of yielding. Davydd ap Jefan ap
Einion held out to the last; but when the garrison was on the point
of starvation, the brave Welsh captain listened to the dictates of
humanity, and surrendered with honor.
Even after the fall of Harleck, Margaret's high spirit sustained her
hopes. In 1467, she is understood to have come to London, disguised
as a priest, to rouse her partisans to action, and even to have had
an interview with her husband in the Tower. Next year she sent Jasper
Tudor to Wales; and he laid siege to Denbigh. King Edward himself
was in the castle, and the utmost peril of being taken prisoner. He
contrived to escape, however; and the fortress surrendered. But a
Yorkist named William Herbert went with an army, and inflicted such
a defeat on Jasper that he was fain to escape to the Continent.
Nevertheless, in October, Margaret lay at Harfleur threatening an
invasion. Edward, however, sent his brother-in-law, Anthony Woodville,
who now, in right of his wife, figured as Lord Scales, to attack the
fleet of his old patroness; and the exiled queen, seeing no chance of
success, abandoned her expedition in despair.
But even in despair Margaret could show herself heroic and sublime.
Thus, when some of her Continental kinsfolk were, in a vulgar spirit,
lamenting her unfortunate marriage, and describing her union with the
unhappy Henry as the cause of all her misfortune, she raised her head
with regal pride, and contemptuously rebuked their foolish talk. "On
the day of my betrothal," exclaimed she, with poetic eloquence, "when
I accepted the Rose of England, I knew that I must wear the rose entire
and with all its thorns."
In the midst of adversity the exiled queen had one consolation. Edward,
Prince of Wales, was a son of whom any mother might have been proud,
and day by day he grew more accomplished in the warlike exercises of
the age. Nor, though in almost hopeless adversity, did the prince lack
instruction in weightier matters; for Fortescue undertook the task of
educating the banished heir of Lancaster, endeavored so to form the
mind of the royal boy as to enable him to enact in after years the part
of a patriot-king, and compiled for his pupil the "_De Laudibus Legum
Angliæ_;" a work explaining the laws of England, and suggesting the
improvements that might with advantage be introduced.
Five years of exile passed over; and during that time every attempt of
the Lancastrians to better their position proved disastrous. It was
when matters were at the worst--when the Red Rose had disappeared,
and the Red Rose-tree had withered from England--that circumstances
occurred which inspired the despairing adherents of the captive king
with high hopes, diverted the thoughts of the exiled queen from
reminiscences of the past to speculations on the future, and opened up
to her son the prospect of a throne, only to conduct him to an untimely
grave.