Mr. Gairdner assumes that Richard murdered his nephews, and, on the strength of his guilt in committing that crime, he argues that the criminal was capable of anything during his former life, and on this ground believes in some of the other alleged crimes. The earlier accusers appear to argue in the reverse way. They accumulated every accusation they could think of, with reference to Richard's former life, in order to make the main crime more probable.
Though Mr. Gairdner's sense of justice obliges him to make so many admissions that the revolting monster of earlier histories almost disappears in his hands, yet in some respects he goes backwards. For he still clings to the assassinations of young Edward and of Henry VI., two horrible stories invented by later chroniclers. Surely the sound arguments of Sharon Turner and others ought to have been allowed finally to expunge these revolting fables from our history.
However, in Mr. Gairdner's book the venomous hunchback, born with teeth, entirely disappears. He gives us, in his place, a prince 'whose bodily deformity, though perceptible, was probably not conspicuous.' In his latest version, he abandons the assassination in the King's tent by his chief nobles. He thinks that Richard is unduly blamed about the murder of Henry VI. because it was probably sanctioned by others. He pronounces Richard to be guiltless of the death of Clarence. He admits that Anne was not married to young Edward, and that there is some reason to believe that she regarded Richard with favour. He gives no countenance to the insinuation that Anne was poisoned by her husband. He is inclined to credit the pre-contract of Edward IV. with Lady Eleanor Butler, and admits the strength of the evidence for its truth. He considers it remarkable that a man (Lord Rivers) who suffered by the Protector's order could appeal to him to be supervisor of his will. This would certainly be very remarkable if Gloucester and Rivers had been accomplices in two cowardly murders. Such monsters do not usually place confidence in each other. But the simple truth is not remarkable. Rivers felt that he had failed and must pay the penalty, but he placed full and deserved confidence in Richard's honour and integrity, as well as in his generosity.
Mr. Gairdner has thus removed much of the Tudor garbage from the picture of King Richard, but he will not sweep off the rest. His researches show him that the accusations of the Tudor writers are irreconcilable with the results of modern investigations. But his preconceived convictions, although much shaken, are not yet swept away. The inevitable result is that the life and character of Richard become a puzzle to him. Generous, kind, and patriotic acts continue to be recorded of the young King throughout his life, which are certainly not the acts of an habitual assassin. Those who are forced to acknowledge the facts, and yet cling to a belief in the fictions, find themselves in a tight place. This is Mr. Gairdner's position. He will not give up all the Tudor fables, and clings to such shreds of them as it seems to him possible to retain. Yet his own researches force him to abandon much and to apologize for the rest. The man's acts cannot be made to harmonize with the Tudor calumnies. The consequent contradictions necessitate the explanation that 'Richard was not yet even a hardened criminal' (p. 46); while some of the events which cannot be disputed are 'certainly remarkable' (p. 91), and others 'almost inconceivable' (p. 214).
Mr. Gairdner cannot quite give up the fable of the murder of young Edward at Tewkesbury. He admits that it was not countenanced by any contemporary writer, that it was first told by Fabyan many years after the event, and that the final embellishment, according to which young Gloucester was a participator in the crime, was a tradition of later times. Yet in his history, he preferred the tradition of later times to the story of Fabyan, although he thought the latter had every appearance of probability, and he preferred both to the unanimous testimony of contemporaries.[[14]] There is no reason for this topsy-turvy criticism, except that what Mr. Gairdner calls a 'tradition' accuses Richard, while Fabyan and the contemporaries do not.
His arguments in favour of the murder given in his 'Life of Richard III.' were that Richard may very probably have been a murderer at nineteen, if any one of his other alleged murders be admitted; and that he was capable of a cowardly assassination because he condemned prisoners to death in his judicial capacity. On these grounds alone he urged that the accusation is not to be rejected. He did not maintain that it is true, but that it cannot safely be pronounced apocryphal. He also admitted that Richard ought not to bear the whole responsibility, as he was only an accessory. This is very different from the downright condemnation of Hume and Lingard.[[15]] The fable is evidently doomed. But there can be no sharing of responsibility. If Richard stabbed his young cousin he was a cowardly ruffian, whether other ruffians did the same or not. If he did not, no words can be strong enough to express the infamy of his Italian slanderer.
Mr. Gairdner has since shifted his ground,[[16]] and, adopting Warkworth's version, has admitted that young Edward was slain in the field, calling for succour to the Duke of Clarence; but he cannot bring himself to acquit Richard altogether, and suggests that he was the slayer, because no meaner person would have taken the responsibility of slaying so valuable a prisoner. As if these fine-drawn distinctions were made in the heat of a desperate mêlée. But even so, the two boys being about the same age and weight, it was a fair fight. There was no crime. Yet Mr. Gairdner still calls it a 'murder'! Of course there is no authority or ground whatever for bringing Richard in at all, if Warkworth's version is adopted. Verily the fiction is dying hard!
There is no reason for considering the Duke of Gloucester to have been capable of assassinating his cousin because it was his duty to sit in judgment on prisoners as Lord Constable. The trial of rebels before a court consisting of the Earl Marshal and the Lord Constable was perfectly legal and constitutional. Speaking of trial by jury, Chief Justice Fortescue laid it down that in England 'some cases might be proved before two only, such as facts occurring on the high seas, and proceedings before the Earl Marshal and the Lord Constable.' It was a constitutional tribunal, and, although very young, his office of Constable made it incumbent on Gloucester to sit in judgment. The Earl Marshal, being an older man, would probably take the leading part. Mr. Gairdner says that it was a summary tribunal and that all who were brought before it were beheaded. It was a constitutional tribunal, and only thirteen prisoners were condemned to death. As many as twelve of the leaders were pardoned, if not more, and all the subordinate officers and soldiers. In comparison with Lancaster and Tudor proceedings under similar circumstances,[[17]] the tribunal at Tewkesbury was lenient.[[18]]
Although it does not affect Richard, a serious accusation against Edward IV. should here receive attention, namely, that his enemies who had taken refuge in Tewkesbury Abbey might, in Mr. Gairdner's words, 'have saved themselves by flight if Edward had not sworn in church upon the sacraments to pardon them. As to the executions being vindictive, I should very much like to know what other character they can possibly bear except that they were perfidious also.' They may be called vindictive if all executions for treason in a civil war are to be so called, but not, as Mr. Gairdner evidently intends, in any special sense. The sting of the accusation, however, is in the alleged perfidy.