CHAPTER II.
IN WHICH ARE LAID OPEN TO THE READER THE CHARACTER OF EDWARD THE
FOURTH AND THAT OF HIS COURT, WITH THE MACHINATIONS OF THE WOODVILLES
AGAINST THE EARL OF WARWICK.
Scarcely need it be said to those who have looked with some philosophy
upon human life, that the young existence of Master Marmaduke Nevile,
once fairly merged in the great common sea, will rarely reappear
before us individualized and distinct. The type of the provincial
cadet of the day hastening courtwards to seek his fortune, he becomes
lost amidst the gigantic characters and fervid passions that alone
stand forth in history. And as, in reading biography, we first take
interest in the individual who narrates, but if his career shall pass
into that broader and more stirring life, in which he mingles with men
who have left a more dazzling memory than his own, we find the
interest change from the narrator to those by whom he is surrounded
and eclipsed,--so, in this record of a time, we scarce follow our
young adventurer into the court of the brilliant Edward ere the scene
itself allures and separates us from our guide; his mission is, as it
were, well-nigh done. We leave, then, for a while this bold, frank
nature-fresh from the health of the rural life--gradually to improve,
or deprave itself, in the companionship it finds. The example of the
Lords Hastings, Scales, and Worcester, and the accomplishments of the
two younger Princes of York, especially the Duke of Gloucester, had
diffused among the younger and gayer part of the court that growing
taste for letters which had somewhat slept during the dynasty of the
House of Lancaster; and Marmaduke's mind became aware that learning
was no longer the peculiar distinction of the Church, and that Warwick
was behind his age when he boasted "that the sword was more familiar
to him than the pen." He had the sagacity to perceive that the
alliance with the great earl did not conduce to his popularity at
court; and even in the king's presence, the courtiers permitted
themselves many taunts and jests at the fiery Warwick, which they
would have bitten out their tongues ere they would have vented before
the earl himself. But though the Nevile sufficiently controlled his
native candour not to incur unprofitable quarrel by ill-mannered and
unseasonable defence of the hero-baron when sneered at or assailed, he
had enough of the soldier and the man in him not to be tainted by the
envy of the time and place,--not to lose his gratitude to his patron,
nor his respect for the bulwark of the country. Rather, it may be
said, that Warwick gained in his estimation whenever compared with the
gay and silken personages who avenged themselves by words for his
superiority in deeds. Not only as a soldier, but as a statesman, the
great and peculiar merits of the earl were visible in all those
measures which emanated solely from himself. Though so indifferently
educated, his busy, practical career, his affable mixing with all
classes, and his hearty, national sympathies made him so well
acquainted with the interests of his country and the habits of his
countrymen, that he was far more fitted to rule than the scientific
Worcester or the learned Scales. The Young Duke of Gloucester
presented a marked contrast to the general levity of the court, in
speaking of this powerful nobleman. He never named him but with
respect, and was pointedly courteous to even the humblest member of
the earl's family. In this he appeared to advantage by the side of
Clarence, whose weakness of disposition made him take the tone of the
society in which he was thrown, and who, while really loving Warwick,
often smiled at the jests against him,--not, indeed, if uttered by the
queen or her family, of whom he ill concealed his jealousy and hatred.
The whole court was animated and pregnant with a spirit of intrigue,
which the artful cunning of the queen, the astute policy of Jacquetta,
and the animosity of the different factions had fomented to a degree
quite unknown under former reigns. It was a place in which the wit of
young men grew old rapidly; amidst stratagem, and plot, and ambitious
design, and stealthy overreaching, the boyhood of Richard III. passed
to its relentless manhood: such is the inevitable fruit of that era in
civilization when a martial aristocracy first begins to merge into a
voluptuous court.
Through this moving and shifting web of ambition and intrigue the
royal Edward moved with a careless grace: simple himself, because his
object was won, and pleasure had supplanted ambition. His indolent,
joyous temper served to deaden his powerful intellect; or, rather, his
intellect was now lost in the sensual stream through which it flowed.
Ever in pursuit of some new face, his schemes and counterschemes were
limited to cheat a husband or deceive a wife; and dexterous and
successful no doubt they were. But a vice always more destructive
than the love of women began also to reign over him,--namely, the
intemperance of the table. The fastidious and graceful epicurism of
the early Normans, inclined to dainties but abhorring excess, and
regarding with astonished disdain the heavy meals and deep draughts of
the Saxon, had long ceased to characterize the offspring of that
noblest of all noble races. Warwick, whose stately manliness was
disgusted with whatever savoured of effeminacy or debauch, used to
declare that he would rather fight fifty battles for Edward IV. than
once sup with him! Feasts were prolonged for hours, and the banquets
of this king of the Middle Ages almost resembled those of the later
Roman emperors. The Lord Montagu did not share the abstemiousness of
his brother of Warwick. He was, next to Hastings, the king's chosen
and most favourite companion. He ate almost as much as the king, and
drank very little less. Of few courtiers could the same be said!
Over the lavish profligacy and excess of the court, however, a veil
dazzling to the young and high-spirited was thrown. Edward was
thoroughly the cavalier, deeply imbued with the romance of chivalry,
and, while making the absolute woman his plaything, always treated the
ideal woman as a goddess. A refined gallantry, a deferential courtesy
to dame and demoiselle, united the language of an Amadis with the
licentiousness of a Gaolor; and a far more alluring contrast than the
court of Charles II. presented to the grim Commonwealth seduced the
vulgar in that of this most brave and most beautiful prince, when
compared with the mournful and lugubrious circles in which Henry VI.
had reigned and prayed. Edward himself, too, it was so impossible to
judge with severe justice, that his extraordinary popularity in
London, where he was daily seen, was never diminished by his faults;
he was so bold in the field, yet so mild in the chamber; when his
passions slept, he was so thoroughly good-natured and social, so kind
to all about his person, so hearty and gladsome in his talk and in his
vices, so magnificent and so generous withal; and, despite his
indolence, his capacities for business were marvellous,--and these
last commanded the reverence of the good Londoners; he often
administered justice himself, like the caliphs of the East, and with
great acuteness and address. Like most extravagant men, he had a
wholesome touch of avarice. That contempt for commerce which
characterizes a modern aristocracy was little felt by the nobles of
that day, with the exception of such blunt patricians as Lord Warwick
or Raoul de Fulke. The great House of De la Pole (Duke of Suffolk),
the heir of which married Edward's sister Elizabeth, had been founded
by a merchant of Hull. Earls and archbishops scrupled not to derive
revenues from what we should now esteem the literal resources of
trade. [The Abbot of St. Alban's (temp. Henry III.) was a vendor of
Yarmouth bloaters. The Cistercian Monks were wool-merchants; and
Macpherson tells us of a couple of Iceland bishops who got a license
from Henry VI. for smuggling. (Matthew Paris. Macpherson's "Annals of
Commerce," 10.) As the Whig historians generally have thought fit to
consider the Lancastrian cause the more "liberal" of the two, because
Henry IV. was the popular choice, and, in fact, an elected, not an
hereditary king, so it cannot be too emphatically repeated, that the
accession of Edward IV. was the success of two new and two highly--
popular principles,--the one that of church reform, the other that of
commercial calculation. All that immense section, almost a majority
of the people, who had been persecuted by the Lancastrian kings as
Lollards, revenged on Henry the aggrieved rights of religious
toleration. On the other hand, though Henry IV., who was immeasurably
superior to his warlike son in intellect and statesmanship, had
favoured the growing commercial spirit, it had received nothing but
injury under Henry V., and little better than contempt under Henry VI.
The accession of the Yorkists was, then, on two grounds a great
popular movement; and it was followed by a third advantage to the
popular cause,--namely, in the determined desire both of Edward and
Richard III. to destroy the dangerous influence of the old feudal
aristocracy. To this end Edward laboured in the creation of a court
noblesse; and Richard, with the more dogged resolution that belonged
to him, went at once to the root of the feudal power, in forbidding
the nobles to give badges and liveries (this also was forbidden, it is
true, by the edict of Edward IV. as well as by his predecessors from
the reign of Richard II.; but no king seems to have had the courage to
enforce the prohibition before Richard III.),--in other words, to
appropriate armies under the name of retainers. Henry VII., in short,
did not originate the policy for which he has monopolized the credit;
he did but steadily follow out the theory of raising the middle class
and humbling the baronial, which the House of York first put into
practice.] shown itself on this point more liberal in its policy, more
free from feudal prejudices, than that of the Plantagenets. Even
Edward II. was tenacious of the commerce with Genoa, and an
intercourse with the merchant princes of that republic probably served
to associate the pursuits of commerce with the notion of rank and
power. Edward III. is still called the Father of English Commerce;
but Edward IV. carried the theories of his ancestors into far more
extensive practice, for his own personal profit. This king, so
indolent in the palace, was literally the most active merchant in the
mart. He traded largely in ships of his own, freighted with his own
goods; and though, according to sound modern economics, this was
anything but an aid to commerce, seeing that no private merchant could
compete with a royal trader who went out and came in duty-free, yet
certainly the mere companionship and association in risk and gain, and
the common conversation that it made between the affable monarch and
the homeliest trader, served to increase his popularity, and to couple
it with respect for practical sense. Edward IV. was in all this pre-
eminently THE MAN OF HIS AGE,--not an inch behind it or before! And,
in addition to this happy position, he was one of those darlings of
Nature, so affluent and blest in gifts of person, mind, and outward
show, that it is only at the distance of posterity we ask why men of
his own age admired the false, the licentious, and the cruel, where
those contemporaries, over-dazzled, saw but the heroic and the joyous,
the young, the beautiful,--the affable to friend, and the terrible to
foe!
It was necessary to say thus much on the commercial tendencies of
Edward, because, at this epoch, they operated greatly, besides other
motives shortly to be made clear, in favour of the plot laid by the
enemies of the Earl of Warwick, to dishonour that powerful minister
and drive him from the councils of the king.
One morning Hastings received a summons to attend Edward, and on
entering the royal chamber, he found already assembled Lord Rivers,
the queen's father, Anthony Woodville, and the Earl of Worcester.
The king seemed thoughtful; he beckoned Hastings to approach, and
placed in his hand a letter, dated from Rouen. "Read and judge,
Hastings," said Edward.
The letter was from a gentleman in Warwick's train. It gave a glowing
account of the honours accorded to the earl by Louis XI., greater than
those ever before manifested to a subject, and proceeded thus:--
"But it is just I should apprise you that there be strange rumours as
to the marvellous love that King Louis shows my lord the earl. He
lodgeth in the next house to him, and hath even had an opening made in
the partition-wall between his own chamber and the earl's. Men do say
that the king visits him nightly, and there be those who think that so
much stealthy intercourse between an English ambassador and the
kinsman of Margaret of Anjou bodeth small profit to our grace the
king."
"I observe," said Hastings, glancing to the superscription, "that this
letter is addressed to my Lord Rivers. Can he avouch the fidelity of
his correspondent?"
"Surely, yes," answered Rivers; "it is a gentleman of my own blood."
"Were he not so accredited," returned Hastings, "I should question the
truth of a man who can thus consent to play the spy upon his lord and
superior."
"The public weal justifies all things," said the Earl of Worcester
(who, though by marriage nearly connected to Warwick, eyed his power
with the jealous scorn which the man of book-lore often feels for one
whose talent lies in action),--"so held our masters in all state-
craft, the Greek and Roman."
"Certes," said Sir Anthony Woodville, "it grieveth the pride of an
English knight that we should be beholden for courtesies to the born
foe of England, which I take the Frenchman naturally to be."
"Ah," said Edward, smiling sternly, "I would rather be myself, with
banner and trump, before the walls of Paris, than sending my cousin
the earl to beg the French king's brother to accept my sister as a
bride. And what is to become of my good merchant-ships if Burgundy
take umbrage and close its ports?"
"Beau sire," said Hastings," thou knowest how little cause I have to
love the Earl of Warwick. We all here, save your gracious self, bear
the memory of some affront rendered to us by his pride and heat of
mood! but in this council I must cease to be William de Hastings, and
be all and wholly the king's servant. I say first, then, with
reference to these noble peers, that Warwick's faith to the House of
York is too well proven to become suspected because of the courtesies
of King Louis,--an artful craft, as it clearly seems to me, of the
wily Frenchman, to weaken your throne, by provoking your distrust of
its great supporter. Fall we not into such a snare! Moreover, we may
be sure that Warwick cannot be false, if he achieve the object of his
embassy,--namely, detach Louis from the side of Margaret and Lancaster
by close alliance with Edward and York. Secondly, sire, with regard
to that alliance, which it seems you would repent,--I hold now, as I
have held ever, that it is a master-stroke in policy, and the earl in
this proves his sharp brain worthy his strong arm; for as his highness
the Duke of Gloucester hath now clearly discovered that Margaret of
Anjou has been of late in London, and that treasonable designs were
meditated, though now frustrated, so we may ask why the friends of
Lancaster really stood aloof; why all conspiracy was, and is, in
vain?--Because, sire, of this very alliance with France; because the
gold and subsidies of Louis are not forthcoming; because the
Lancastrians see that if once Lord Warwick win France from the Red
Rose, nothing short of such a miracle as their gaining Warwick instead
can give a hope to their treason. Your Highness fears the anger of
Burgundy, and the suspension of your trade with the Flemings; but--
forgive me--this is not reasonable. Burgundy dare not offend England,
matched, as its arms are, with France; the Flemings gain more by you
than you gain by the Flemings, and those interested burghers will not
suffer any prince's quarrel to damage their commerce. Charolois may
bluster and threat, but the storm will pass, and Burgundy will be
contented, if England remain neutral in the feud with France. All
these reasons, sire, urge me to support my private foe, the Lord
Warwick, and to pray you to give no ear to the discrediting his Honour
and his embassy."
The profound sagacity of these remarks, the repute of the speaker, and
the well-known grudge between him and Warwick, for reasons hereafter
to be explained, produced a strong effect upon the intellect of
Edward, always vigorous, save when clouded with passion. But Rivers,
whose malice to the earl was indomitable, coldly recommenced,--
"With submission to the Lord Hastings, sire, whom we know that love
sometimes blinds, and whose allegiance to the earl's fair sister, the
Lady of Bonville, perchance somewhat moves him to forget the day when
Lord Warwick--"
"Cease, my lord," said Hastings, white with suppressed anger; "these
references beseem not the councils of grave men."
"Tut, Hastings," said Edward, laughing merrily, "women mix themselves
up in all things: board or council, bed or battle,--wherever there is
mischief astir, there, be sure, peeps a woman's sly face from her
wimple. Go on, Rivers."
"Your pardon, my Lord Hastings," said Rivers, "I knew not my thrust
went so home; there is another letter I have not yet laid before the
king." He drew forth a scroll from his bosom, and read as follows:--
"Yesterday the earl feasted the king, and as, in discharge of mine
office, I carved for my lord, I heard King Louis say, 'Pasque Dieu, my
Lord Warwick, our couriers bring us word that Count Charolois declares
he shall yet wed the Lady Margaret, and that he laughs at your
ambassage. What if our brother, King Edward, fall back from the
treaty?' 'He durst not!' said the earl."
"Durst not I" exclaimed Edward, starting to his feet, and striking the
table with his clenched hand, "durst not! Hastings, hear you that?"
Hastings bowed his head in assent. "Is that all, Lord Rivers?"
"All! and methinks enough."
"Enough, by my halidame!" said Edward, laughing bitterly; "he shall
see what a king dares, when a subject threatens. Admit the worshipful
the deputies from our city of London,--lord chamberlain, it is thine
office,--they await in the anteroom."
Hastings gravely obeyed, and in crimson gowns, with purple hoods and
gold chains, marshalled into the king's presence a goodly deputation
from the various corporate companies of London.
These personages advanced within a few paces of the dais, and there
halted and knelt, while their spokesman read, on his knees, a long
petition, praying the king to take into his gracious consideration the
state of the trade with the Flemings; and though not absolutely
venturing to name or to deprecate the meditated alliance with France,
beseeching his grace to satisfy them as to certain rumours, already
very prejudicial to their commerce, of the possibility of a breach
with the Duke of Burgundy. The merchant-king listened with great
attention and affability to this petition; and replied shortly, that
he thanked the deputation for their zeal for the public weal,--that a
king would have enough to do if he contravened every gossip's tale;
but that it was his firm purpose to protect, in all ways, the London
traders, and to maintain the most amicable understanding with the Duke
of Burgundy.
The supplicators then withdrew from the royal presence.
"Note you how gracious the king was to me?" whispered Master Heyford
to one of his brethren; "he looked at me while he answered."
"Coxcomb!" muttered the confidant, "as if I did not catch his eye when
he said, 'Ye are the pillars of the public weal!' But because Master
Heyford has a handsome wife he thinks he tosseth all London on his own
horns!"
As the citizens were quitting the palace, Lord Rivers joined them.
"You will thank me for suggesting this deputation, worthy sirs," said
he, smiling significantly; "you have timed it well!"--and passing by
them, without further comment, he took the way to the queen's chamber.
Elizabeth was playing with her infant daughter, tossing the child in
the air, and laughing at its riotous laughter. The stern old Duchess
of Bedford, leaning over the back of the state-chair, looked on with
all a grandmother's pride, and half chanted a nursery rhyme. It was a
sight fair to see! Elizabeth never seemed more lovely: her
artificial, dissimulating smile changed into hearty, maternal glee,
her smooth cheek flushed with exercise, a stray ringlet escaping from
the stiff coif!--And, alas, the moment the two ladies caught sight of
Rivers, all the charm was dissolved; the child was hastily put on the
floor; the queen, half ashamed of being natural, even before her
father, smoothed back the rebel lock, and the duchess, breaking off in
the midst of her grandam song, exclaimed,--
"Well, well! how thrives our policy?"
"The king," answered Rivers, "is in the very mood we could desire. At
the words, 'He durst not!' the Plantagenet sprung up in his breast;
and now, lest he ask to see the rest of the letter, thus I destroy it;
"and flinging the scroll in the blazing hearth, he watched it consume.
"Why this, sir?" said the queen.
"Because, my Elizabeth, the bold words glided off into a decent
gloss,--'He durst not,' said Warwick, 'because what a noble heart
dares least is to belie the plighted word, and what the kind heart
shuns most is to wrong the confiding friend."
"It was fortunate," said the duchess, "that Edward took heat at the
first words, nor stopped, it seems, for the rest!"
"I was prepared, Jacquetta; had he asked to see the rest, I should
have dropped the scroll into the brazier, as containing what I would
not presume to read. Courage! Edward has seen the merchants; he has
flouted Hastings,--who would gainsay us. For the rest, Elizabeth, be
it yours to speak of affronts paid by the earl to your highness; be it
yours, Jacquetta, to rouse Edward's pride by dwelling on Warwick's
overweening power; be it mine to enlist his interest on behalf of his
merchandise; be it Margaret's to move his heart by soft tears for the
bold Charolois; and ere a month be told, Warwick shall find his
embassy a thriftless laughing-stock, and no shade pass between the
House of Woodville and the sun of England."
"I am scarce queen while Warwick is minister," said Elizabeth,
vindictively. "How he taunted me in the garden, when we met last!"
"But hark you, daughter and lady liege, hark you! Edward is not
prepared for the decisive stroke. I have arranged with Anthony, whose
chivalrous follies fit him not for full comprehension of our objects,
how upon fair excuse the heir of Burgundy's brother--the Count de la
Roche--shall visit London; and the count once here, all is ours!
Hush! take up the little one,--Edward comes!"
