CHAPTER VIII
THE CITY AND THE COURT
One day, in the year 1456, a citizen of London, passing along Cheapside, happened to meet an Italian carrying a dagger. The citizen was a young merchant who had lately been on the Continent, and who had, in some of the Italian states, been prohibited by the magistrates from wearing a weapon, even for the defense of his life. Naturally indignant at seeing an Italian doing in the capital of England what an Englishman was not allowed to do in the cities of Italy, the merchant ventured upon stopping the foreigner and reminding him of the laws of his own country.
Not having any relish for being thus challenged, the Italian answered with some degree of insolence; and the Englishman, stung to the quick, forcibly seized the dagger of the foreigner, "and," according to the chroniclers of the period, "with the same a little cut his crown and cracked his pate." Enraged at this assault, the Italian complained of the outrage to the lord mayor; and the Englishman, having been summoned to the court at Guildhall, was committed to Newgate.
Between the London merchants of that day and the foreigners carrying on business in London no good-will existed. Free trade was not the fashion of the age; and the inhabitants of the city, hating the Italians for interfering with their commerce, were ready on any fitting occasion to rise to the tune of "England for the English." No sooner, therefore, was it known that an Englishman had been incarcerated for breaking an Italian's head than he was regarded as a martyr to his patriotism; and the Londoners, assembling in crowds, compelled the mayor to deliver the merchant from prison, and took the opportunity of attacking the houses of all the Italians in London. The mayor, in the utmost alarm, summoned the elder and graver of the citizens to his assistance; and these, with much difficulty, prevailed on the crowd to disperse to their homes. As for the merchant, not seeing any security under the circumstances, he repaired to Westminster, and there took refuge in the sanctuary.
The riot in London created considerable sensation; and, unfortunately, the queen, as if she had not already business enough on her hands, took upon herself to interfere, and expressed her intention of inflicting signal punishment on the offenders. With that purpose in view, she instructed two of her dukes, Buckingham and Exeter, to proceed to the city; and these noblemen, with the mayor and two justices, opened a commission at Guildhall.
At first the business was conducted with all due form, and the inquiry was ceremoniously prosecuted. Suddenly, however, a great change occurred in the city. Bow bell was rung, and at its sound the streets filled with armed men, who appeared bent on mischief. The queen's high-born commissioners were, doubtless, as much taken by surprise as if Jack Cade had come to life again; and, probably, not unmindful of Lord Say's fate, they abandoned the inquiry in a state of trepidation hardly consisting with the dignity of a Stafford and a Holland. The city, however, was nothing the worse for their absence; indeed, the lord mayor, having thus got rid of his lordly coadjutors, called some discreet citizens to his aid, and dealt so prudently with the multitude, that order was restored and justice satisfied.
The part enacted by the queen, in regard to the quarrel between the English and Italians, destroyed the last particle of affection which the inhabitants of London entertained for the house of Lancaster; and Margaret, for many reasons, began to prefer Coventry to the metropolis. This, however, was not the only result of her interference. In the eyes of foreigners it elevated the riot to the dignity of an insurrection, the French mistaking it for one of those revolutions in which the Parisians, under the auspices of Jean de Troyes and Jean Caboche, were in the habit of indulging during the reign of the unfortunate Charles.
The French were excusable in their delusion. With an insane king and a reckless queen in both cases the parallel was somewhat close. But the French soon discovered their mistake. Having fitted out two expeditions to avail themselves of our domestic disorders, they intrusted one to Lord de Pomyers, and the other to Sir Peter de Brezé. Pomyers landed on the coast of Cornwall, and having burned Towey, sailed back to France without doing serious mischief. Brezé, with four thousand men, embarked at Honfleur, made a descent on Sandwich, and proceeded to spoil the town, which had been deserted by its defenders on account of the plague; but, the country people in the neighborhood arriving in great numbers, the invaders were fain to return to their ships.
Such was the end of the riot in London; and from that time the metropolitan populace adhered to the chiefs of the White Rose; and to that badge of hereditary pride and personal honor they clung with fidelity long after it had lost its bloom in the atmosphere of a corrupt court, and been dyed red on scaffold and battle-field in the blood of the noble and the brave.
CHAPTER IX
A YORKIST VICTORY AND A LANCASTRIAN REVENGE
In the summer of 1459 Margaret of Anjou carried the Prince of Wales on a progress through Chester, of which he was earl. The queen's object being to enlist the sympathies of the men of the north, she caused her son, then in his sixth year, to present a silver swan, which had been assumed as his badge, to each of the principal adherents of the house of Lancaster. Margaret had left the County Palatine, and was resting from her fatigues at Eccleshall, in Staffordshire, when she received intelligence that the Yorkists were in motion; that the duke was arraying the retainers of Mortimer beneath the Plantagenet banner; that Warwick was on his way from Calais with a body of warriors trained to arms by Bedford and Talbot; and that Salisbury, at the head of five thousand merry men of Yorkshire, was moving from Middleham Castle to join his son and his brother-in-law at Ludlow.
Notwithstanding the rout of her friends at St. Albans, Margaret was not daunted at the prospect of another trial of strength. Perhaps, indeed, she rather rejoiced that the Yorkist chiefs afforded a fair opportunity of executing her vengeance and effecting their ruin. Her measures, with that purpose, were taken with characteristic promptitude. She issued orders to James Touchet, Lord Audley, to intercept Salisbury's march; and at the same time summoned Thomas, Lord Stanley, to join the Lancastrian army with all his forces. Stanley, who was son-in-law of Salisbury, answered that he would come in all haste, but failed to keep his promise. Audley, however, exhibited more devotion to the Red Rose. On receiving the queen's commands, he undertook to bring her one Yorkist chief dead or alive; and hastily assembling a force of ten thousand men in Cheshire and Shropshire, boldly threw himself between the earl and the duke. On the evening of Saturday, the 22d of September, Audley came face to face with Salisbury at Bloreheath, within a short distance of Drayton, anciently the seat of those Bassets who fought with so much distinction in the wars of the first Edward.
The position of the Yorkists was the reverse of pleasant. The Lancastrian army was greatly superior in number, and Audley had the advantage of being posted by the side of a stream, of which the banks were particularly steep. But Salisbury was not to be baffled. Seeing that there was little prospect of success in the event of his crossing to attack, the earl resolved on a military stratagem, and gave orders that his army should encamp for the night.
Early on the morning of Sunday – it was St. Tecla's Day – Salisbury set his men in motion; and, having caused his archers to send a flight of shafts across the river toward Audley's camp, feigned to retreat. Audley soon showed that he was no match for such an enemy. Completely deceived, the Lancastrian lord roused his troops to action, caused his trumpets to sound, and gave orders for his army passing the river. His orders were promptly obeyed. The men of Cheshire, who composed the van, dashed into the water, and plunged through the stream; but scarcely had they commenced ascending the opposite banks when Salisbury turned, and attacked them with that degree of courage against which superiority of numbers is vain. The battle was, nevertheless, maintained for hours, and proved most sanguinary. The loss of the Yorkists was indeed trifling,4 but more than two thousand of the Red Rose warriors perished in the encounter. Audley himself was slain, and with him some of the foremost gentlemen of Cheshire and Lancashire, among whom were the heads of the families of Venables, Molyneux, Legh, and Egerton. The queen, who witnessed the defeat of her adherents from the tower of a neighboring church, fled back to digest her mortification at Eccleshall.
The Earl of Salisbury soon found that his success was calculated to convert neutrals into allies. Lord Stanley, on receiving the queen's message, had gathered a force of two thousand men; but, being reluctant to commit himself on either side, he contrived, on the day of battle, to be six miles from the scene of action. On hearing of the result, however, he sent a congratulatory letter to his father-in-law; and Salisbury, showing the epistle to Sir John Harrington, and others of his knights, said, jocosely, "Sirs, be merry, for we have yet more friends."
The contest between York and Lancaster now assumed a new aspect. Salisbury, rejoicing in a victory so complete as that of Bloreheath, formed a junction with York at Ludlow; and the duke, perceiving that moderation had been of so little avail, and believing that his life would be in danger so long as Margaret of Anjou ruled England, resolved henceforth upon pursuing a bolder course. He could not help remembering that he was turned of forty, an age at which, as the poet tells us, there is no dallying with life; and he began to consider that the time had arrived to claim the crown which was his by hereditary right.
Having resolved no longer, by timidity in politics, to play the game of his enemies, York set up his standard and summoned his friends to Ludlow. Fighting men came from various parts of England, and assembled cheerily and in good order at the rendezvous; while, to take part in the civil war, Warwick brought from Calais those veterans who, in other days, had signalized their valor against foreign foes. The projects of the Yorkists seemed to flourish. Salisbury's experience, knowledge, and military skill were doubtless of great service to his friends; and having thrown up intrenchments, and disposed in battery a number of bombards and cannon, they confidently awaited the enemy.
Meanwhile, the Lancastrians were by no means in despair. The king, having, with the aid of the young Dukes of Somerset and Exeter, drawn together a mighty army at Worcester, sent the Bishop of Salisbury to promise the Yorkists a general pardon if they would lay down their arms. The Yorkists, however, had learned by severe experience what the king's promises were worth, and received the bishop like men who were no longer to be deluded. "So long," said they, "as the queen has supreme power, we have no faith in the king's pardon; but," they added, "could we have assurance of safety, we should express our loyalty, and humbly render ourselves at the king's service."
The king, having received the answer of the insurgent chiefs, advanced on the 13th of October to the Yorkist camp, and made proclamation, that whoever abandoned the duke should have the royal pardon. Though this appeared to be without effect, the king's army did not commence the attack. Indeed, the Yorkist ranks were most imposing, and the duke's guns wrought considerable havoc in the Lancastrian lines. Observing the formidable attitude of his foes, the king resolved to delay the assault until the morrow; and, ere the sun again shone, an unexpected incident had changed the face of matters, and thrown the Yorkists into utter confusion.
Among those who heard the king's proclamation was Andrew Trollope, captain of the veterans whom Warwick had brought from Calais. This mighty man-at-arms had served long in the French wars, and cared not to draw his sword against the son of the Conqueror of Agincourt. After listening to the king's offers of pardon, and considering the consequences of refusing them, Trollope resolved upon deserting; and, at dead of night, he quietly carried off the Calais troops, and making for the royal camp, revealed the whole of York's plans.
When morning dawned, and Trollope's treachery was discovered, the adherents of the White Rose were in dismay and consternation. Every man became suspicious of his neighbor; and the duke was driven to the conclusion that he must submit to circumstances. No prospect of safety appearing but in flight, York, with his second son, the ill-fated Earl of Rutland, departed into Wales, and thence went to Ireland; while Salisbury and Warwick, with the duke's eldest son, Edward, escaped to Devonshire, bought a ship at Exmouth, sailed to Guernsey, and then passed over to Calais.
The king, on finding that his enemies had fled, became very bold; and having spoiled the town and castle of Ludlow, and taken the Duchess of York prisoner, he called a Parliament. As measures were to be taken to extinguish the Yorkists, no temporal peer, unless known as a stanch adherent of the Red Rose, received a summons; and Coventry was selected as the scene of revenge; for, since the unfortunate result of the Commission at Guildhall, the queen looked upon London as no place for the execution of those projects on which she had set her heart. Away from the metropolis, however, Margaret found herself in a position to do as she pleased; and at Coventry Bloreheath was fearfully avenged. With little regard to law, and still less regard to prudence, the most violent courses were pursued: York, Salisbury, Warwick, and their friends, were declared traitors; and their estates, being confiscated, were bestowed on the queen's favorites. The chiefs of the White Rose appeared utterly ruined; and England was once more at the feet of "The Foreign Woman."
CHAPTER X
THE BATTLE OF NORTHAMPTON
In the month of June, 1460, while the Duke of York was in Ireland, while Margaret of Anjou was with her feeble husband at Coventry, and while Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter, York's son-in-law, was, as lord high admiral, guarding the Channel with a strong fleet, Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, sailed from Calais for the shores of England. It was in vain that Exeter endeavored to do his duty as admiral; for on the sea as on the land, "The Stout Earl" was a favorite hero, and the sailors refused to haul an anchor or hoist a sail to prevent his landing. At Sandwich he safely set foot on English ground, and prepared to strike a shattering blow at the house of Lancaster.
Warwick was accompanied by the Earl of Salisbury and the Earl of March; but the army with which he came to change the dynasty did not consist of more than fifteen hundred men. The earl, however, was not dismayed at the weakness of his force. Indeed, his own great name was a tower of strength; and when, on landing, he proclaimed that his motive for taking up arms was to deliver his countrymen from oppression, and to maintain the ancient laws and liberties of England, he knew that the people would rally around his banner. Ere this, the White Rose, in addition to being the emblem of hereditary right, had become identified with the cause of civil and religious freedom.
The earl's confidence in the people of England was not misplaced. As he marched toward London, the fighting men of Kent and of all the south flocked to his standard, and on reaching Blackheath he was at the head of thirty thousand men. As the patrician hero entered the capital he was hailed with enthusiasm, and cheered with the hope of crowning his enterprise with success.
The king and queen were still at Coventry when informed of Warwick's landing, and Margaret lost no time in taking measures to resist the Yorkist invasion. Money was borrowed from the Lancastrian clergy and nobles, and troops, under Percies, Staffords, Beauforts, Talbots, and Beaumonts, gathered rapidly to the royal standard. The respect which, on his heroic father's account, people still entertained for Henry, and the fear with which Margaret inspired them, were powerful motives; and a great army having been assembled, the Lancastrian king and his haughty spouse, accompanied by Somerset and Buckingham, removed to Northampton, and took up their quarters in the Friary.
Meanwhile, leaving his father in London to defend the city and besiege the Tower, still held for the king by Lord Scales, Warwick marched through the midland counties. Having taken up a position between Towcester and Northampton, he sent the Bishop of Salisbury to the king with pacific overtures. The bishop returned without satisfaction, and Warwick, having thrice ineffectually attempted to obtain an audience of the king, gave the Lancastrians notice to prepare for battle.
The queen was not less willing than the earl to try conclusions. Believing the Lancastrians equal to an encounter with the army of Warwick, she addressed her partisans, and encouraged them with promises of honors and rewards. Confident in their strength, she ordered them to cross the Nene; and, Lord Grey de Ruthin leading the van, the royal army passed through the river, and encamped hard by the Abbey of Delapré in the meadows to the south of the town. There the Lancastrians encompassed themselves with high banks and deep trenches; and, having fortified their position with piles, and sharp stakes, and artillery, they awaited the approach of the Yorkist foe.
Warwick was not the man to keep his enemies long waiting under such circumstances. After charging his soldiers to strike down every knight and noble, but to spare the common men, he prepared for the encounter; and, ere the morning of the 9th of July – it was gloomy and wet – dawned on the towers and turrets of the ancient town on the winding Nene, his army was in motion. Setting their faces northward, the Yorkists passed the cross erected two centuries earlier in memory of Eleanor of Castile, and in feudal array advanced upon the foe – "The Stout Earl" towering in front, and Edward of March, York's youthful heir, following with his father's banner.5
At news of Warwick's approach, the Lancastrian chiefs aroused themselves to activity, donned their mail, mounted their steeds, set their men in battle order, and then alighted to fight on foot. The king, in his tent, awaited the issue of the conflict; but Margaret of Anjou repaired to an elevated situation, and thither carried her son, to witness the fight. Her hopes were doubtless high, for gallant looked the army that was to do battle in her cause, and well provided were the Lancastrians with the artillery which had, in the previous autumn, rendered the Yorkists so formidable at Ludlow.
By seven o'clock the Yorkists assailed the intrenched camp at Delapré, and the war-cries of the Lancastrian leaders answered the shouts of Warwick and March. At first the contest was vigorously maintained; but, unfortunately for the queen's hopes, the rain had rendered the artillery incapable of doing the service that had been anticipated. In spite of this disheartening circumstance, the warriors of the Red Rose bravely met their antagonists, and both Yorkists and Lancastrians fought desperately and well. But, in the heat of action, Lord Grey de Ruthin, betraying his trust, deserted to the enemy. Consternation thereupon fell upon the king's army, and the Yorkists having, with the aid of Lord Grey's soldiers, got within the intrenchments, wrought fearful havoc. The conflict was, nevertheless, maintained with obstinacy till nine o'clock; but after two hours of hard fighting the king's men were seen flying in all directions, and many, while attempting to cross the Nene, were drowned in its waters.
In consequence of Warwick's order to spare the commons, the slaughter fell chiefly on the knights and nobles. The Duke of Buckingham, the Earl of Shrewsbury, Thomas Percy, Lord Egremont, and John, Viscount Beaumont, were among the slain. Somerset narrowly escaped, and fled after the queen in the direction of North Wales.
When intelligence of Warwick's victory reached London, the populace broke loose from all restraint. Lord Scales, who, while keeping the Tower, had incurred their hatred, disguised himself and endeavored to escape. The watermen, however, recognized him, and, notwithstanding his threescore years, cut off his head and cast the body carelessly on the sands. Thomas Thorpe, one of the barons of the Exchequer, met a similar fate. While attempting to fly, he was captured and committed to the Tower; but afterward he was taken possession of by the mob, and executed at Highgate. With such scenes enacting before their eyes, the citizens recognized the necessity of a settled government; and the adherents of the White Rose intimated to their chief the expediency of his immediate return from Ireland.
King Henry, after the defeat of his adherents at Northampton, was found in his tent, lamenting the slaughter. As at St. Albans, he was treated by the victors with respectful compassion, and by them conducted, with the utmost deference, to London.