CHAPTER V.
WHAT FAITH EDWARD IV. PURPOSETH TO KEEP WITH EARL AND PEOPLE.
Edward received his triumphant envoy with open arms and profuse
expressions of gratitude. He exerted himself to the utmost in the
banquet that crowned the day, not only to conciliate the illustrious
new comers, but to remove from the minds of Raoul de Fulke and his
officers all memory of their past disaffection. No gift is rarer or
more successful in the intrigues of life than that which Edward
eminently possessed,--namely, the hypocrisy of frankness.
Dissimulation is often humble, often polished, often grave, sleek,
smooth, decorous; but it is rarely gay and jovial, a hearty laughter,
a merry, cordial, boon companion. Such, however, was the felicitous
craft of Edward IV.; and, indeed, his spirits were naturally so high,
his good humour so flowing, that this joyous hypocrisy cost him no
effort. Elated at the dispersion of his foes, at the prospect of his
return to his ordinary life of pleasure, there was something so kindly
and so winning in his mirth, that he subjugated entirely the fiery
temper of Raoul de Fulke and the steadier suspicions of the more
thoughtful St. John. Clarence, wholly reconciled to Edward, gazed on
him with eyes swimming with affection, and soon drank himself into
uproarious joviality. The archbishop, more reserved, still animated
the society by the dry and epigrammatic wit not uncommon to his
learned and subtle mind. But Warwick in vain endeavoured to shake off
an uneasy, ominous gloom. He was not satisfied with Edward's
avoidance of discussion upon the grave matters involved in the earl's
promise to the insurgents, and his masculine spirit regarded with some
disdain, and more suspicion, a levity that he considered ill-suited to
the emergence.
The banquet was over, and Edward, having dismissed his other
attendants, was in his chamber with Lord Hastings, whose office always
admitted him to the wardrobe of the king.
Edward's smile had now left his lip; he paced the room with a hasty
stride, and then suddenly opening the casement, pointed to the
landscape without, which lay calm and suffused in moonlight.
"Hastings," said he, abruptly, "a few hours since and the earth grew
spears! Behold the landscape now!"
"So vanish all the king's enemies!"
"Ay, man, ay,--if at the king's word, or before the king's battle-axe;
but at a subject's command--No, I am not a king while another scatters
armies in my realm at his bare will. 'Fore Heaven, this shall not
last!"
Hastings regarded the countenance of Edward, changed from affable
beauty into terrible fierceness, with reflections suggested by his
profound and mournful wisdom. "How little a man's virtues profit him
in the eyes of men!" thought he. "The subject saves the crown, and
the crown's wearer never pardons the presumption!"
"You do not speak, sir!" exclaimed Edward, irritated and impatient.
"Why gaze you thus on me?"
"Beau sire," returned the favourite, calmly, "I was seeking to
discover if your pride spoke, or your nobler nature."
"Tush!" said the king, petulantly, "the noblest part of a king's
nature is his pride as king!" Again he strode the chamber, and again
halted. "But the earl hath fallen into his own snare,--he hath
promised in my name what I will not perform. Let the people learn
that their idol hath deceived them. He asks me to dismiss from the
court the queen's mother and kindred!"
Hastings, who in this went thoroughly with the earl and the popular
feeling, and whose only enemies in England were the Woodvilles,
replied simply,--
"These are cheap terms, sire, for a king's life and the crown of
England."
Edward started, and his eyes flashed that cold, cruel fire, which
makes eyes of a light colouring so far more expressive of terrible
passions than the quicker and warmer heat of dark orbs. "Think you
so, sir? By God's blood, he who proffered them shall repent it in
every vein of his body! Hark ye, William Hastings de Hastings, I know
you to be a deep and ambitious man; but better for you had you covered
that learned brain under the cowl of a mendicant friar than lent one
thought to the counsels of the Earl of Warwick."
Hastings, who felt even to fondness the affection which Edward
generally inspired in those about his person, and who, far from
sympathizing, except in hate of the Woodvilles, with the earl, saw
that beneath that mighty tree no new plants could push into their
fullest foliage, reddened with anger at this imperious menace.
"My liege," said he, with becoming dignity and spirit, "if you can
thus address your most tried confidant and your lealest friend, your
most dangerous enemy is yourself."
"Stay, man," said the king, softening. "I was over warm, but the wild
beast within me is chafed. Would Gloucester were here!"
"I can tell you what would be the counsels of that wise young prince,
for I know his mind," answered Hastings.
"Ay, he and you love each other well. Speak out."
"Prince Richard is a great reader of Italian lere. He saith that
those small States are treasuries of all experience. From that lere
Prince Richard would say to you, 'Where a subject is so great as to be
feared, and too much beloved to be destroyed, the king must remember
how Tarpeia was crushed."
"I remember naught of Tarpeia, and I detest parables."
"Tarpeia, sire (it is a story of old Rome), was crushed under the
weight of presents. Oh, my liege," continued Hastings, warming with
that interest which an able man feels in his own superior art, "were I
king for a year, by the end of it Warwick should be the most unpopular
(and therefore the weakest) lord in England!"
"And how, O wise in thine own conceit?"
"Beau sire," resumed Hastings, not heeding the rebuke--and strangely
enough he proceeded to point out, as the means of destroying the
earl's influence, the very method that the archbishop had detailed to
Montagu as that which would make the influence irresistible and
permanent--"Beau sire," resumed Hastings, "Lord Warwick is beloved by
the people, because they consider him maltreated; he is esteemed by
the people, because they consider him above all bribe; he is venerated
by the people, because they believe that in all their complaints and
struggles he is independent (he alone) of the king. Instead of love,
I would raise envy; for instead of cold countenance I would heap him
with grace. Instead of esteem and veneration I would raise suspicion;
for I would so knit him to your House, that he could not stir hand or
foot against you; I would make his heirs your brothers. The Duke of
Clarence hath married one daughter,--wed the other to Lord Richard.
Betroth your young princess to Montagu's son, the representative of
all the Neviles. The earl's immense possessions must thus ultimately
pass to your own kindred. The earl himself will be no longer a power
apart from the throne, but a part of it. The barons will chafe
against one who half ceases to be of their order, and yet monopolizes
their dignities; the people will no longer see in the earl their
champion, but a king's favourite and deputy. Neither barons nor
people will flock to his banner."
"All this is well and wise," said Edward, musing; "but meanwhile my
queen's blood? Am I to reign in a solitude?--for look you, Hastings,
you know well that, uxorious as fools have deemed me, I had purpose
and design in the elevation of new families; I wished to raise a fresh
nobility to counteract the pride of the old, and only upon new nobles
can a new dynasty rely."
"My Lord, I will not anger you again; but still, for a while, the
queen's relations will do well to retire."
"Good night, Hastings," interrupted Edward, abruptly, "my pillow in
this shall be my counsellor."
Whatever the purpose solitude and reflection might ripen in the king's
mind, he was saved from immediate decision by news, the next morning,
of fresh outbreaks. The commons had risen in Lincolnshire and the
county of Warwick; and Anthony Woodville wrote word that, if the king
would but show himself among the forces he had raised near Coventry,
all the gentry around would rise against the rebellious rabble.
Seizing advantage of these tidings, borne to him by his own couriers,
and eager to escape from the uncertain soldiery quartered at Olney,
Edward, without waiting to consult even with the earl, sprang to
horse, and his trumpets were the first signal of departure that he
deigned to any one.
This want of ceremony displeased the pride of Warwick; but he made no
complaint, and took his place by the king's side, when Edward said
shortly,--
"Dear cousin, this is a time that needs all our energies. I ride
towards Coventry, to give head and heart to the raw recruits I shall
find there; but I pray you and the archbishop to use all means, in
this immediate district, to raise fresh troops; for at your name armed
men spring up from pasture and glebe, dyke and hedge. Join what
troops you can collect in three days with mine at Coventry, and, ere
the sickle is in the harvest, England shall be at peace. God speed
you! Ho! there, gentlemen, away!--a franc etrier!"
Without pausing for reply,--for he wished to avoid all questioning,
lest Warwick might discover that it was to a Woodville that he was
bound,--the king put spurs to his horse, and, while his men were yet
hurrying to and fro, rode on almost alone, and was a good mile out of
the town before the force led by St. John and Raoul de Fulke, and
followed by Hastings, who held no command, overtook him.
"I misthink the king," said Warwick, gloomily; "but my word is pledged
to the people, and it shall be kept."
"A man's word is best kept when his arm is the strongest," said the
sententious archbishop; "yesterday, you dispersed an army; to-day,
raise one!"
Warwick answered not, but, after a moment's thought, beckoned to
Marmaduke.
"Kinsman," said he, "spur on, with ten of my little company, to join
the king. Report to me if any of the Woodvilles be in his camp near
Coventry."
"Whither shall I send the report?"
"To my castle of Warwick."
Marmaduke bowed his head, and, accustomed to the brevity of the earl's
speech, proceeded to the task enjoined him. Warwick next summoned his
second squire.
"My lady and her children," said he, "are on their way to Middleham.
This paper will instruct you of their progress. Join them with all
the rest of my troop, except my heralds and trumpeters; and say that I
shall meet them ere long at Middleham."
"It is a strange way to raise an army," said the archbishop, dryly,
"to begin by getting rid of all the force one possesses!"
"Brother," answered the earl, "I would fain show my son-in-law, who
may be the father of a line of kings, that a general may be helpless
at the head of thousands, but that a man may stand alone who has the
love of a nation."
"May Clarence profit by the lesson! Where is he all this while?"
"Abed," said the stout earl, with a slight accent of disdain; and
then, in a softer voice, he added, "youth is ever luxurious. Better
the slow man than the false one."
Leaving Warwick to discharge the duty enjoined him, we follow the
dissimulating king.
