THE PROGRESS OF THE PLANTAGENET.
A few words suffice to explain the formidable arrival we have just
announced. Though the Duke of Burgundy had by public proclamation
forbidden his subjects to aid the exiled Edward, yet, whether moved by
the entreaties of his wife, or wearied by the remonstrances of his
brother-in-law, he at length privately gave the dethroned monarch
fifty thousand florins to find troops for himself, and secretly hired
Flemish and Dutch vessels to convey him to England. [Comines, Hall,
Lingard, S. Turner] But so small was the force to which the bold
Edward trusted his fortunes, that it almost seemed as if Burgundy sent
him forth to his destruction. He sailed from the coast of Zealand;
the winds, if less unmanageable than those that blew off the seaport
where Margaret and her armament awaited a favouring breeze, were still
adverse. Scared from the coast of Norfolk by the vigilance of Warwick
and Oxford, who had filled that district with armed men, storm and
tempest drove him at last to Humber Head, where we have seen him land,
and whence we pursue his steps.
The little band set out upon its march, and halted for the night at a
small village two miles inland. Some of the men were then sent out on
horseback for news of the other vessels, that bore the remnant of the
invading force. These had, fortunately, effected a landing in various
places; and, before daybreak, Anthony Woodville, and the rest of the
troops, had joined the leader of an enterprise that seemed but the
rashness of despair, for its utmost force, including the few sailors
allured to the adventurer's standard, was about two thousand men.
[Fifteen hundred, according to the Croyland historian.] Close and
anxious was the consultation then held. Each of the several
detachments reported alike of the sullen indifference of the
population, which each had sought to excite in favour of Edward.
Light riders [Hall] were despatched in various directions, still
further to sound the neighbourhood. All returned ere noon, some
bruised and maltreated by the stones and staves of the rustics, and
not a voice had been heard to echo the cry, "Long live King Edward!"
The profound sagacity of Gloucester's guileful counsel was then
unanimously recognized. Richard despatched a secret letter to
Clarence; and it was resolved immediately to proceed to York, and to
publish everywhere along the road that the fugitive had returned but
to claim his private heritage, and remonstrate with the parliament
which had awarded the duchy of York to Clarence, his younger brother.
"Such a power," saith the Chronicle, "hath justice ever among men,
that all, moved by mercy or compassion, began either to favour or not
to resist him." And so, wearing the Lancastrian Prince of Wales's
cognizance of the ostrich feather, crying out as they marched, "Long
live King Henry!" the hardy liars, four days after their debarkation,
arrived at the gates of York.
Here, not till after much delay and negotiation, Edward was admitted
only as Duke of York, and upon condition that he would swear to be a
faithful and loyal servant to King Henry; and at the gate by which he
was to enter, Edward actually took that oath, "a priest being by to
say Mass in the Mass tyme, receiving the body of our blessed Saviour!"
[Hall.]
Edward tarried not long in York; be pushed forward. Two great nobles
guarded those districts,--Montagu and the Earl of Northumberland, to
whom Edward had restored his lands and titles, and who, on condition
of retaining them, had re-entered the service of Lancaster. This
last, a true server of the times, who had sided with all parties, now
judged it discreet to remain neutral. [This is the most favourable
interpretation of his conduct: according to some he was in
correspondence with Edward, who showed his letters.] But Edward must
pass within a few miles of Pontefract castle, where Montagu lay with a
force that could destroy him at a blow. Edward was prepared for the
assault, but trusted to deceive the marquis, as he had deceived the
citizens of York,--the more for the strong personal love Montagu had
ever shown him. If not, he was prepared equally to die in the field
rather than eat again the bitter bread of the exile. But to his
inconceivable joy and astonishment, Montagu, like Northumberland, lay
idle and supine. Edward and his little troop threaded safely the
formidable pass. Alas! Montagu had that day received a formal order
from the Duke of Clarence, as co-protector of the realm, [Our
historians have puzzled their brains in ingenious conjectures of the
cause of Montagu's fatal supineness at this juncture, and have passed
over the only probable solution of the mystery, which is to be found
simply enough stated thus in Stowe's Chronicle: "The Marquess
Montacute would have fought with King Edward, but that he had received
letters from the Duke of Clarence that he should not fight till hee
came." This explanation is borne out by the Warkworth Chronicler and
others, who, in an evident mistake of the person addressed, state that
Clarence wrote word to Warwick not to fight till he came. Clarence
could not have written so to Warwick, who, according to all
authorities, was mustering his troops near London, and not in the way
to fight Edward; nor could Clarence have had authority to issue such
commands to his colleague, nor would his colleague have attended to
them, since we have the amplest testimony that Warwick was urging all
his captains to attack Edward at once. The duke's order was,
therefore, clearly addressed to Montagu.] to suffer Edward to march
on, provided his force was small, and he had taken the oaths to Henry,
and assumed but the title of Duke of York,--"for your brother the earl
hath had compunctious visitings, and would fain forgive what hath
passed, for my father's sake, and unite all factions by Edward's
voluntary abdication of the throne; at all hazards, I am on my way
northward, and you will not fight till I come." The marquis,--who
knew the conscientious doubts which Warwick had entertained in his
darker hours, who had no right to disobey the co-protector, who knew
no reason to suspect Lord Warwick's son-in-law, and who, moreover, was
by no means anxious to be, himself, the executioner of Edward, whom he
had once so truly loved,--though a little marvelling at Warwick's
softness, yet did not discredit the letter, and the less regarded the
free passage he left to the returned exiles, from contempt for the
smallness of their numbers, and his persuasion that if the earl saw
fit to alter his counsels, Edward was still more in his power the
farther he advanced amidst a hostile population, and towards the
armies which the Lords Exeter and Oxford were already mustering.
But that free passage was everything to Edward! It made men think
that Montagu, as well as Northumberland, favoured his enterprise; that
the hazard was less rash and hopeless than it had seemed; that Edward
counted upon finding his most powerful allies among those falsely
supposed to be his enemies. The popularity Edward had artfully
acquired amongst the captains of Warwick's own troops, on the march to
Middleham, now bestead him. Many of them were knights and gentlemen
residing in the very districts through which he passed. They did not
join him, but they did not oppose. Then rapidly flocked to "the Sun
of York," first the adventurers and condottieri who in civil war adopt
any side for pay; next came the disappointed, the ambitious, and the
needy. The hesitating began to resolve, the neutral to take a part.
From the state of petitioners supplicating a pardon, every league the
Yorkists marched advanced them to the dignity of assertors of a cause.
Doncaster first, then Nottingham, then Leicester,--true to the town
spirit we have before described,--opened their gates to the trader
prince.
Oxford and Exeter reached Newark with their force. Edward marched on
them at once. Deceived as to his numbers, they took panic and fled.
When once the foe flies, friends ever start up from the very earth!
Hereditary partisans--gentlemen, knights, and nobles--now flocked fast
round the adventurer. Then came Lovell and Cromwell and D'Eyncourt,
ever true to York; and Stanley, never true to any cause. Then came
the brave knights Parr and Norris and De Burgh; and no less than three
thousand retainers belonging to Lord Hastings--the new man--obeyed the
summons of his couriers and joined their chief at Leicester.
Edward of March, who had landed at Ravenspur with a handful of
brigands, now saw a king's army under his banner. [The perplexity and
confusion which involve the annals of this period may be guessed by
this,--that two historians, eminent for research (Lingard and Sharon
Turner), differ so widely as to the numbers who had now joined Edward,
that Lingard asserts that at Nottingham he was at the head of fifty or
sixty thousand men; and Turner gives him, at the most, between six and
seven thousand. The latter seems nearer to the truth. We must here
regret that Turner's partiality to the House of York induces him to
slur over Edward's detestable perjury at York, and to accumulate all
rhetorical arts to command admiration for his progress,--to the
prejudice of the salutary moral horror we ought to feel for the
atrocious perfidy and violation of oath to which he owed the first
impunity that secured the after triumph.] Then the audacious perjurer
threw away the mask; then, forth went--not the prayer of the attainted
Duke of York--but the proclamation of the indignant king. England now
beheld two sovereigns, equal in their armies. It was no longer a
rebellion to be crushed; it was a dynasty to be decided.