THE EARL'S RETURN AND EDWARD'S FLIGHT.
When Warwick, in France, was forming an alliance with Margaret of
Anjou, the people of England were manifesting their anxiety for "The
Stout Earl's" return.[10] Edward of York, meanwhile, appeared to
consider the kingdom nothing the worse for the king-maker's absence.
He even ridiculed the idea of taking any precautions to guard against
the invasion which was threatened. Instead of making preparations for
defense, the king, after the earl's departure from England, occupied
himself wholly with the ladies of his court; going in their company on
hunting excursions, and diverting himself with every kind of pleasant
pastime.
The Duke of Burgundy was by no means so cool as the King of England. In
fact, Charles the Rash was quite aware of the degree of danger to which
his brother-in-law was exposed, and gave him timely warning not only
that an invasion was projected, but of the very port at which Warwick
intended to land. "By GOD'S blessed lady," exclaimed Edward, "I wish
the earl would land, and when we have beaten him in England, I only
ask our brother of Burgundy to keep such a good look-out at sea as to
prevent his return to France."
The wish which the king, with too much confidence in his resources,
thus expressed, was speedily to be gratified. About the middle of
September, 1470, while he was in the north, suppressing an insurrection
headed by Lord Fitzhugh, Warwick suddenly landed on the coast of Devon,
and proclaimed that he came to put down falsehood and oppression, and
to have law and justice fairly administered. It soon appeared that the
popularity of the earl gave him a power that was irresistible. A few
months earlier, when he was escaping to France, a magnificent reward
had been offered by the king to any man who should seize the rebellious
baron; but now that the earl was once more in England, with Oxford by
his side, all the heroes of the Round Table, if they had been in the
flesh, would have shrunk from the hazard of such an exploit. Long ere
he landed, the Nevilles and De Veres were mustering their merry-men;
a few days later warriors of all ranks were flocking to his standard;
and, at the head of a numerous army, he marched toward London. Being
informed, however, that the capital was favorable to his project, and
that the king had retraced his steps to Nottingham, Warwick turned
toward the Trent, summoning men to his standard as he went, and
intending to give Edward battle.
Meanwhile, the king's situation was gradually becoming desperate. His
soldiers, giving way to discontent, began to desert; and, while he was
in Lincoln, near the River Welland, circumstances occurred to prove the
prudence of Burgundy's warnings, and to remove Edward's illusions.
At the time when Warwick was flying from England, Edward, in defiance
of prudential considerations, took one of those steps which sometimes
cost a crown. After his victory at Hexham, Lord Montagu had been gifted
with the earldom of Northumberland. At that time the young chief of
the Percies was a Lancastrian captive in the Tower or an exile in
Scotland; but the mediation of friends prevailed, and the heir of
Hotspur was reconciled to the heir of the Mortimers. Edward deemed the
opportunity favorable for weakening the Nevilles, and encouraged the
Northumbrians to petition for the restoration of the house of Percy.
The Northumbrians did petition; Montagu resigned the earldom; and the
king, to console him for his loss, elevated the victor of Hexham to
the rank of marquis. Montagu took the marquisate, but he indulged in a
bitter jest and bided his time.
It happened that, when Warwick landed, Montagu had mustered ten
thousand men in the king's name. Hearing of the earl's return, these
soldiers caught the popular contagion, and evinced so strong an
inclination to desert their standard, that Montagu saw that the hour
for retaliation was come; and, after remarking that "Edward had taken
Northumberland from him, and given him a marquisate, but only a pie's
nest to maintain it withal," he frankly added, "I shall decidedly take
the part of the earl."
The king was that night asleep in the royal tent when aroused by the
chief of his minstrels, and informed that Montagu and some other lords
had mounted their horses and ordered their soldiers to raise the shout
of "GOD bless King Henry!" Edward, completely taken by surprise, rose
and buckled on his armor; but, resistance being out of the question,
he determined to fly. Having exhorted his followers to go and join
Warwick, pretending great friendship, but secretly retaining their
allegiance, the king rode toward Lynn, accompanied by about a hundred
knights and gentlemen, among whom were his brother, Richard, Duke of
Gloucester; his brother-in-law, Anthony Woodville, Earl Rivers; his
Chamberlain, William, Lord Hastings; and William Fiennes, Lord Say,
son of that nobleman who had been put to death during Jack Cade's
insurrection. At Lynn the king found an English ship and two Dutch
vessels ready to put to sea. On board of these Edward and his friends
hastily embarked; and, leaving Warwick and Oxford masters of England,
set sail for the territories of Burgundy.
Within St. Paul's Church-yard, to the north of the Cathedral, Cardinal
Kempe had erected a cross to remind passers-by to pray for the souls
of those buried beneath their feet. To preach at Paul's Cross was an
object of clerical ambition; and, when service was there performed,
the multitude gathered round the pulpit, while the wealthy citizens
and municipal functionaries occupied galleries so constructed as to
shelter them when the weather happened to be inclement. On the Sunday
after Michaelmas, 1470, Dr. Goddard was the divine who officiated; and
the doctor, being one of Warwick's chaplains, preached a political
sermon, advocating the claims of the royal captive in the Tower, and
setting forth the earl's patriotic intentions in such a light that the
audience could not help wishing well to the enterprise.
The metropolis, thus excited, conceived a strong desire for Warwick's
success; and, when it became known that King Edward had fled from the
Welland, and that the earl was marching upon London, the partisans of
the house of York, seeing that resistance would be vain, hastened to
take refuge in the religious houses that had the privilege of affording
sanctuary.
Hard by the Palace of Westminster, in the fifteenth century, stood a
massive edifice, with a church built over it in the form of a cross.
This structure, which was a little town in itself, and strongly enough
fortified to stand a siege, had been erected by Edward the Confessor as
a place of refuge to the distressed, and, according to tradition and
the belief of the superstitious, it had been "by St. Peter in his own
person, accompanied with great numbers of angels, by night specially
hallowed and dedicated to GOD."
Within the walls of this sanctuary, at the time when Edward of York
was flying to the territories of the Duke of Burgundy, and Warwick
was advancing upon London, Elizabeth Woodville, leaving the Tower,
and escaping down the Thames in a barge, took refuge with her three
daughters, her mother, the Duchess of Bedford, and her friend, the
Lady Scroope. There, forsaken by her court, and exposed to penury,
the unhappy woman gave birth to her son Edward. This boy, "the child
of misery," was "baptized in tears." "Like a poor man's child was he
christened," says the chronicler, "his godfather being the Abbot and
Prior of Westminster."
Meanwhile, on the 6th of October, Warwick entered London in triumph;
and, going directly to the Tower, the great earl released Henry of
Windsor, proclaimed him king, and escorted him from a prison to a
palace. After this the king-maker called a Parliament, which branded
Edward as a usurper, attainted his adherents as traitors, restored to
the Lancastrians their titles and estates, and passed an act entailing
the crown on Edward of Lancaster, and, failing that hopeful prince, on
George, Duke of Clarence.
So great was the earl's power and popularity that he accomplished the
restoration of Lancaster almost without drawing his sword; and no man
suffered death upon the scaffold, with the exception of John Tiptoft,
Earl of Worcester, whose cruelties, exercised in spite of learning and
a love of letters that have made his name famous, had exasperated the
people to phrensy, and won him the name of "the Butcher." Warwick was
not a man, save when on fields of fight, to delight in the shedding of
blood; and, even had it been otherwise, his high pride would have made
him scorn in the hour of triumph the idea of striking helpless foes.
At Calais the news of the earl's triumph created no less excitement
than in England. The intelligence might, under some circumstances, have
caused Governor Vauclerc considerable dismay and no slight apprehension
that his conduct while the earl was in adversity would place him in
a perilous predicament. Vauclerc, however, had his consolation, and
must have chuckled as he reflected on the prudence he had exercised.
The crafty Gascon, doubtless, congratulated himself heartily on his
foresight, and felt assured that in spite of Edward's patent and
Burgundy's pension, the devotion he had expressed and the intelligence
he had given to Warwick would, now that the political wind had changed,
secure him a continuance of place and power.
But, whatever on the occasion might have been Governor Vauclerc's
sentiments, Warwick's triumph produced a sudden change in the politics
of Calais. The city, so often the refuge of Yorkists in distress,
manifested unequivocal symptoms of joy at a revolution which restored
the house of Lancaster; and the Calesians, forgetting that, from
selfish motives, they had, six months earlier, refused Warwick
admittance within their walls, painted the white cross of Neville over
their doors, and endeavored, in various ways, to testify excessive
respect for the great noble who could make and unmake kings. As for
the garrison, which, a few months earlier, could not be trusted, every
man was now ready to drink the earl's health; every tongue sounded the
praises of the king-maker; every cap was conspicuously ornamented with
the Ragged Staff, known, far and wide, as the badge of the Countess of
Warwick.
Fortune, which seldom does things by halves, seemed to have conducted
the earl to a triumph too complete to be reversed; and if any one, with
the gift of political prophecy, had ventured to predict that, within
six months, King Edward would ride into London amid the applause of the
populace, he would have been regarded as a madman. Every circumstance
rendered such an event improbable in the extreme. The fickle goddess
appeared to have forever deserted the White Rose, and to have destined
the sun of York never more to shine in merry England.