The Strife of the Roses and Days of the Tudors in the West Part 13

Bourchier brought the young prince to Gloucester, who received his nephew with much feigned affection,--a few days after both the young King and his brother were lodged in the Tower, never to come out again alive.

Up to this time it is probable that no one, not excepting Buckingham, really had cognizance of the ultimate designs of Gloucester, and he himself had been veiling his purpose as carefully as possible, until he saw his schemes so far matured, that success appeared in sight. And although he was gradually getting the sole power and mastery of the King and government in his own hands, still there were many obstacles to be got out of the way, and many influential men to be won over, or otherwise disposed of, before the sceptre was within his grasp.

At this juncture Buckingham comes to the front, as the undoubted agent and zealous coadjutor of Gloucester, in aiding his ultimate design, and also by apparently acquiescing in any measures, however desperate, that might lead to its fulfilment. Gloucester doubtless thoroughly estimated the unenviable character of his ally. He knew of Buckingham's hatred of the Queen-Mother and her family, and that in consequence, his allegiance to the young King was of very doubtful character, if secretly he did not equally dislike him, though he dared not shew it, and Gloucester was further aware of Buckingham's grievance at never having been possessed of that which by heirs.h.i.+p he was ent.i.tled to, a moiety of the great Bohun estates, and which had been hitherto vested in the Crown, unjustly as he considered, and Gloucester, it is said, duly whetted his companion's hopes by the promise of the restoration of this, when seated on the throne.

Prompt action was now decided on. Widville and Grey, with their a.s.sociates, were to be dispatched, and orders were sent down to Pontefract to Sir Richard Ratcliffe for that purpose, and it was further determined that Lord Hastings was to be won over if possible, if not the same fate was to be reserved for him.

Then came Gloucester's tampering with Sir Edmund Shaw, the Lord Mayor, and his brother, the truculent preacher Dr. John Shaw, and the pretences of trying to a.s.sume the illegitimacy of Edward's children, and failing that, of Edward IV. himself. Then the simulation of feigning to prepare for the young King's coronation, and the two Councils, one in Gloucester's interests, intriguing for its delay at Baynard's Castle, and the other arranging it for the King in the Tower. Stanley, in the King's Council, was a.s.sured there was mischief in Gloucester's designs, but Hastings was slow to believe such treachery, until the truth was apparent to him, when the wretched emissary, Catesby, left him for the second and last time, a betrayed and doomed man. Immediately on this followed the frightful incident in the Tower, and the murder of Hastings,--for it was nothing less,--a scene described at length elsewhere.[18] On the same day the victims at Pontefract were disposed of.

Concerning the barbarous execution of Earl Rivers and his unfortunate companions we get the following graphic picture from More,--

"They had not so much as the formality of a trial, but were brought to the scaffold on the day appointed, and being branded in general by the name of traitors, were beheaded. The Lord Rivers would fain have declared his innocence to the people, but Ratcliffe would not suffer him, lest his words should lay open the Protector's cruelty too much, and so he died in silence. Sir Thomas Vaughan would not endure his mouth to be stopped, but as he was going to the block said aloud, 'a mischief take them that expounded the prophecy, which foretold that G should destroy King Edward's children, for George, Duke of Clarence, who for that suspicion is now dead; for there still remained Richard G (i.e.

Duke of Gloucester) who now I see is he that shall, and will, accomplish the prophecy, and destroy King Edward's children, and all his allies and friends, as appeareth to us this day; against whom I appeal to the high tribunal of G.o.d, for this wrongful murder and our real innocency.' Sir Richard Ratcliffe heard this with regret, and putting it off, said to him in scorn, 'You have made a goodly appeal, lay down your head.' 'Yea,' saith Sir Thomas, 'but I die in the right, take heed that you die not in the wrong;'--and having said this he was beheaded. He, with the other three, were buried naked in the Monastery of St. John the Evangelist, at Pontefract."

[18] See page 57.

The citizens of London had next to be reckoned with, on whom "fear and consternation" would be sure to fall, on hearing of the sudden and barbarous death of Hastings, who was a great favourite with them, and had much influence in the city. But all things had been prepared,--the Lord Mayor and Aldermen were immediately summoned to the Tower, and Gloucester and Buckingham, who had arrayed themselves in two old rusty suits of armour, received them, and in the name of the King told them that the beheaded man had conspired to seize the King, and kill Gloucester and Buckingham, in order that he may have governed the kingdom as he pleased! That they only discovered it the same morning, and the Council deemed it necessary to execute him immediately, and fearing there were many others in the plot they had hastily harnessed themselves at once for the King's defence. A proclamation, already "cut and dried" before Hastings' death, containing similar statements, was issued in the city within two hours of that event, but it had little effect, for the people jested and said, "_it was writ by the spirit of prophecy_." True enough, doubtless; the civic deputation withdrew from the presence of Gloucester, quite a.s.sured of his dissimulation and the untruth of what he had stated, but told him his orders for the quietness of the city should be obeyed, being too much afraid to give other answer.

The Archbishop of York, Morton, Bishop of Ely, and Lord Stanley had been sent to the Tower, poor Jane Sh.o.r.e publicly disgraced, and so all was well cleared away for Gloucester's ultimate measures. The two dukes were constantly in close conclave, and the next step was to win the citizens of London over to their designs. This was not so easy a matter, but two influences were to be tried, the first by imposing on their credulity and getting a feigned a.s.sent, and the second, if necessary, to oblige them into compliance by fear.

The Lord Mayor, Sir Edward Shaw, was already won over, and his brother, the Doctor, was to begin the final proceedings. These commenced by Dr. Shaw preaching the famous--or rather infamous--sermon, on a Sunday morning, at Paul's cross; taking for his text a phrase from the fourth chapter of the _Wisdom of Solomon_, "b.a.s.t.a.r.d slips shall take no deep root," a tissue of malign slander on the late king, his children, and their mother,--and gross adulation of Gloucester. During a special laudatory parenthesis it was intended Gloucester should, as by chance, shew himself among the people, but he happened to overstay the time, the Doctor having concluded it, and when he did appear immediately after, the preacher re-commenced the pa.s.sage, and it was hoped he would have heard a call for him as the future king, but there was a complete silence, the audience were disgusted both with the preacher and the subject. This was an ominous and disquieting omen to Gloucester.

The Duke of Buckingham now appears upon the scene as the prime factor in the events that followed. Dr. Shaw's eloquence not prevailing upon the citizens, he determined to see what effect his own reasoning would have on them. For this purpose the Lord Mayor had orders to a.s.semble the Aldermen and all the princ.i.p.al citizens in the Guildhall on the Tuesday following, being the 17 June, 1483. Buckingham addressed the a.s.semblage, and the subject of his harangue was simply an echo of the slander and adulation of what the people had heard at Paul's cross, coupled with the suggestion that Gloucester should be requested to a.s.sume the crown and government,--too weighty for a child.

The Duke finished his oration, and a silence was observed by the audience, as at the conclusion of Shaw's sermon; "everyone stood speechless." Then the Duke, surprised at the want of response, asked the Lord Mayor the reason; the answer was, the people did not well understand him. The Duke then "repeated his speech, with a little variation, and with such grace and eloquence, never was so ill a subject handled with so much oratory." Still the people remained silent.

Perplexed, the Duke again turned to the Lord Mayor, who then told him the citizens were not accustomed to hear anyone but the Recorder, and that he had better put the matter before them. Thereon Buckingham requested the Recorder, Sir Thomas Fitz-William, to address them, and he "most reluctantly managed his speech so well, as to be understood to speak the Duke's sense, and not his own." But the a.s.sembly stood silent as before,--

"They spake not a word; But, like dumb statuas, or breathing stones, Stared on each other, and looked deadly pale."

Then the Duke, seeing a crisis was at hand, determined to test the citizens for a definite reply, and after once more "muttering" to the Lord Mayor, turned to the a.s.semblage and said,--

"Good friends, we came to acquaint you with a thing we needed not have done, had it not been for the affection we bear you. The Lords and Commons could have determined the matter without you, but would gladly have you join with us, which is for your honour and profit, though you do not see it, or consider it. We require you therefore to give your answer one way or another; whether you are willing as the Lords are, to have the most excellent prince the Lord Protector to be your King, or not?"[19]

[19] Sir Thomas More.

Whatever may have been surmised as to the ultimate object to which preceding events were tending, this manifesto and declaration of Buckingham tore off the final shreds of the mask, that had been so thinly veiling it. At the conclusion of the question, a murmur ran through the a.s.semblage, and just at this juncture, a number of the Protector's and Duke's servants, some city apprentices, and a rabble that had crowded into the Hall, cried out, "_King Richard! King Richard!_" and threw up their hats in token of joy.

Glad to seize hold of this mockery of a response, although perfectly aware of its origin, Buckingham immediately treated it as a genuine and spontaneous demonstration in favour of Gloucester, and said,--

"'Tis a goodly and joyful cry, to hear every man with one voice agree to it, and n.o.body say, no; since therefore, we see you all as one man inclined to have this n.o.ble prince to be your King, we shall report the matter effectually to him, that we doubt not it will be much to your advantage. We require you to attend us to-morrow with our joint pet.i.tion to his Grace; as has been already agreed on between us."

"Some followers of mine own, At lower end of the hall, hurled up their caps And some ten voices cried, _G.o.d save King Richard!_ (And thus I took the vantage of those few.)"

The Duke and his companions then left the Hall, and the citizens dispersed "the most part with aching hearts, though they were forced to hide their sorrows, as much as possible for fear of giving offence, which had been dangerous."

Baynard's Castle in Thames Street, "where the Lord Protector lay," was destined to be the scene of the last act of this miserable drama.

Hither the following morning being Wednesday, the 17 April, Buckingham, several lords and gentlemen, the Lord Mayor, and most of the Aldermen and Common-Council, repaired to have audience of Gloucester.

The consummate hypocrisy of Gloucester's character, and his finished acting, were never more fully displayed than at this interview. At first he "made some difficulty of coming forth," and when he appeared, Buckingham, whose guile on the occasion was only short of Gloucester's, introduced the deputation, and after "very submissively begging pardon for himself and company, and liberty to propose to him what they had to offer," and receiving "his Grace's" reply that "he believed none of them meant him any harm," at once "set forth very elegantly and pathetically,"--

"the grievances of the people, and prayed him to redress them by a.s.suming the sovereign authority, which of right belonged to him, and which the whole kingdom with unusual unanimity, desired he would take to himself for the benefit of the Commonwealth, as much as for his Grace's honour."

Gloucester simulated to be "mightily surpriz'd," and said, "although he knew the things, he (Buckingham) alleged, to be true, yet he loved King Edward and his children above any crown whatsoever, and therefore could not grant them their request." Thereon Buckingham "murmured" and "obtained pardon" to speak a second time. He then said, "they were gone too far to go back," and that if he refused "to take the Crown upon him, which they humbly beseeched him to do,"--and gave them "a resolute answer" to the contrary, then "they would look out for some worthy person who would accept their proposal."

The time was now come to throw off the mask, for the climax of hypocrisy had been reached, and Gloucester, never slow to act when the decisive moment arrived, immediately put his foot on the neck of the coveted opportunity. There was no hesitation in the declaration he then made; he "perceived" that the "whole realm was bent upon it not to have King Edward's children to govern them, of which he was sorry,"--and that "he knew the Crown could belong to no man so justly as ourself," a claim now confirmed and joined also by "your election, the n.o.bles and Commons of this Realm," the which of all t.i.tles "possible," he took to be the most effectual, he did therefore "content and agree favourably to receive your pet.i.tion and request,"--and would forthwith from that day forward, "take upon us the royal estate, to rule, govern, and defend."

"Stand all apart,--Cousin of Buckingham, Give me thy hand;--thus high by thy advice And thy a.s.sistance is King Richard seated."

So the farce ended, and the deputation retired. Buckingham had placed the crown on the grisly brow of the White Boar, who, in return was destined not long afterward to rend him that offered it to the heart.

The a.s.sumption of the royal dignity by Gloucester, brings to a conclusion the first half of our little narrative, relating to the man who thus offered it to him.

Two equally remarkable, much-alike, and unenviable-in-conduct, personages, are now presented to us, who had both risen to the highest positions in their native land, the one to supreme authority as king; the other his faithful, and almost unscrupulous lieutenant, henchman, and catspaw, possessing a rivalling royal descent, but little removed in directness from his own, to be from this service the most important and influential of that king's subjects. A very dangerous and crazy alliance between men of such kindred character and aspirations, and destined a.s.suredly not to last long.

Life never stands still,--in the very nature of things it cannot,--nor remain long on an even, which means literally a dead level: it must progress or recede. This is true generally of all life, but specially so of one animated by ambitious longings. A spirit so prompted must continue to ascend if there be any alt.i.tude to win, but if this be denied, and the unstable path it follows at last begins to sink rather than to rise beneath the advancing step, and points to the dread bourne of obscurity and neglect; or, if the powerful antagonism of rival claims and influence jostle it on one side and precede it; or, the cold shadow of preference, joined with indifference and crushed hopes paralyze its future efforts, there is neither anchorage nor haven for the beaten bark, then the bitter promptings of envy and shattered pride but too often occupy the heart instead, give demon wings to its future course, urging it fatally onward to end in the blind and reckless s.h.i.+pwreck of all.

Gloucester was proclaimed King on 22 June, and on 4 July went to the Tower by water, accompanied by his Queen. On that day among the t.i.tles of honour distributed, was that "Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, was made Constable of England for term of life, but he claimed the office by inheritance."[20] He had previously been elected a Knight of the Garter.

[20] Buck's _Life of Richard III._

The next day Richard rode in state from the Tower through the City to Westminster, and a large cavalcade of the n.o.bility and the great officers of state. "But the Duke of Buckingham carried the splendour of that day's bravery, his habit and caparisons of blue velvet, embroidered with _Golden naves of carts, burning_, the trappings supported by footmen habited costly and suitable."

On the day following, 6 July, the coronation of Richard and his Queen took place, when "all the prelates mitred in their _pontificalibus_"

received the King in Westminster Hall, and in the grand procession, after the great Officers of State carrying the royal insignia, came the "King in a surcoat and robe of purple, the canopy borne by the Barons of the Five Ports, the King between the Bishops of Bath and Durham, the Duke of Buckingham bearing up his train, and served with a White Staff for Seneschal, or High Steward of England," an office he appears to have held for that day only; while in the Queen's procession "the Earl of Surrey was Constable (_pro illa vice tantum_)."[21]

[21] Buck's _Life of Richard III._

Richard, instead of summoning a Parliament, held a conference with some of the princ.i.p.al n.o.bles, and after charging them to preserve the peace and put down all crime and disorder, set off for a progress through the midland counties, the end of the journey to be York, where a second coronation was performed by Archbishop Rotherham, and Richard created his son Prince of Wales.

From Windsor the King pa.s.sed through his manor of Woodstock to Oxford, and it being fine summer weather, the people kept high holiday on the route of the royal progress. At the University he appears to have been particularly well received, and acceded to their pet.i.tion to release Morton, the Bishop of Ely, from his durance in the Tower, as that prelate was a special favourite with them, and having done so, consigned him to the gentler and freer espionage of his friend the Duke of Buckingham, who sent the Bishop down to his Castle of Brecknock in South Wales.

This transfer of the Bishop from the Tower to Wales, was the first step in the prelude whose _denouement_ was to be at Bosworth. There was no man whose ability Richard more disliked and feared than Morton's, and that prelate had an equally intense hostility toward the King. But one thing was manifest by his thus committing the Bishop to Buckingham's custody, he could not at the time have had any doubt of the Duke's continued fealty toward him.

The progress continued to Gloucester, the King "making small stay anywhere." Here at this ominously-named city, from which he derived his t.i.tle, two circ.u.mstances occurred whose issues eventually wrested the Crown from his brow, which he was hastening to York,--as if to make a.s.surance doubly sure,--thereon to have it set with all ceremony for the second time. The first of these incidents was his parting from Buckingham, as it turned out, for ever,--although he appeared to be still "constantly disposed and affected toward him in all outward appearance." The other was that from here the first message is said to have been sped--to be afterward repeated with more deadly effect from Warwick--for the murder of the young Princes in the Tower, a crime that for wanton cruelty and hideousness completely dwarfed the legion of others he had previously committed. At last Richard's daring had reckoned without its host, no such enormity had ever occurred in England before, he had "miscalculated the national sentiment, there was a fierce reaction, his popularity went in a day."

Richard is said to have dismissed Buckingham at Gloucester, "with rich gifts and extraordinary marks of favour and affection." Whatever these may have been, he had previously given him an enormous number of appointments and offices in Wales, which had const.i.tuted him almost a little king in the Princ.i.p.ality. While Protector, he

"procured for the Duke almost all the government and authority in Wales, and other bordering counties, the offices of Constable of all the King's Castles, and Steward of the said Castles, and divers Manors, Royalties, Lands and Lords.h.i.+ps, in Salop, Hereford, Somerset, Dorset, and Wilts, without making account, or rendering anything to the King Edward V. Together with the oversight and government of his subjects in those counties and power and authority for the security of the King's person and kingdom, and conservation of the peace in those parts, to call them together and array and arm them. Also the office of Chief Justice and Chamberlain of North and South for his life."[22]

[22] Buck's _Life of Richard III._

When Richard became King, he added a further large number of similar appointments, and the most, if not the whole, were dowered "with the fees anciently due and accustomed thereto," so that besides giving him great authority, they must have afforded him a large income.

Buckingham adjournied on from Gloucester, to his castle of Brecknock, in what state of mind, it is difficult to guess. Arrived there, he found his ghostly prisoner, with all complaisance waiting to welcome him. It must have been here also, or on his way hither, that the Duke received the intelligence of the murder of the Princes in the Tower.

The ghastly news would presumably have greatly startled both Buckingham and the prelate, unless Richard had confided the grim secret to the Duke prior to his parting from him at Gloucester, a supposition we would fain believe not to have been the case, for two reasons, one that the youths were almost as nearly related to Buckingham as they were to himself, being the Duke's wife's sister's children, his nephews by marriage, and there was not like overwhelming motive for him to acquiesce in such atrocity, as actuated Richard; and secondly, a crime of such glaring enormity would scarcely brook revelation to anyone, beyond the person designed to be the instrument employed to perpetrate it, nor then, until the last moment brought the dire necessity; and although Richard was hardened enough and bold enough for anything, still the youths were nearly related to Buckingham, and Gloucester could not be sure how his--as it turned out--half-alienated friend might receive it.