By the Rev. H. H. Moore, M.A.
PART II.
(Continued from Vol. V. p. 282.)
THE characters of Warwick and of Edward IV. were so similar up to a certain point, and beyond that so opposite, their fortunes were so closely intertwined up to a certain time and afterwards were so fatally antagonistic, that they must be considered together awhile. The virtues of the one shine the brighter, and the defects of the other loom the darker by contrast; and the juxtaposition of the two figures in history makes the contrast all the more striking. In Warwick we see the nobler and more antique form of chivalry; in Edward we see chivalry modernised and debased by the additions of a voluptuousness more vicious than refined, and of a selfishness Italian in its intensity, and Machiavellian in its policy. Equally brave and distinguished for personal prowess in the field, Warwick joined to the courage the magnanimity of the lion, while Edward showed the cruelty as well as the fierceness of the tiger. But Edward greatly excelled Warwick, as well as all the other captains of his day, in generalship. His boldness, which cared for no odds however great, which shunned no danger however desperate, would have seemed mere foolhardiness, had not his marvellously quick perception, sagacious judgment, and tremendous energy, made prudence foolish and boldness prudent. His confidence in his own powers, which made them ten times more formidable, was fully justified by the results of nine pitched battles, in which victory never left his standard. But as soon as the opposition was overcome which had roused his energies into so fierce an activity, he abandoned himself to luxurious habits and indulgence in amorous and convivial pleasures. They who had seen him awhile ago delighting like a war-horse in the sound of the battle, would never expect such “a martial man to become soft fancy’s slave.” Yet so it was; terrible as Cæsar in war, in peace he was another Antony, and would risk the loss of an empire for a woman’s smile. His generous affection for Elizabeth Woodville would be a bright spot in his character, had he not sullied it by his numerous amours and gross licentiousness. While Edward thus stained his character as much by his wantonness in peace as by his cruelty in war, Warwick, who despised such pleasures, won from both equally honourable laurels. The young King’s Court was no genial place for his severe manliness; and the disgraceful match-making and place-hunting by which the Queen’s relatives and friends were acquiring power, not only disgusted, but also alarmed him for the power of his family and of the old nobility. Edward and Warwick were equally proud, but Warwick’s was the pride of conscious worth, Edward’s the pride of an arbitrary will. More kingly than the King himself, Warwick overshadowed the throne with his greatness. To him Edward knew that he owed his crown, but he felt that he was strong enough to keep it without his help. His gratitude was swallowed up in the humiliation of his dependence, for he felt that he was not a king when Warwick was by. Accordingly, all his efforts were directed to abase that power which made him feel like a subject in his own realms. Warwick’s fall would, he knew, be the death-blow to his order; and, once determined on this policy, not even fear of Warwick moved this wonderful man, whose hand never hesitated to execute what his heart dared to design. He saw that the age was with him, while Warwick and the men of whom he was the type were behind the age. He knew also the advantage which his own character and talents gave him over Warwick. The latter was honest, unsuspecting, incapable of intrigue as he was indisposed to it; and though he joined to these soldier’s qualities a soldier’s sagacity also, yet he was no match for Edward, and fell an easy victim to his perfidious heart and scheming brain. And when outraged honour and insulted pride made him desert the Yorkist cause, which he had served and supported for years, and range himself with those whom he had most injured and who most hated him, he fell as easy a victim to the same man’s charmed sword. And Edward did prove himself strong enough to reign alone. No man was better fitted for his age and his circumstances; and this is shown by his popularity, vigorous even during Warwick’s life and while growing under his shade. Victor everywhere and at all times, Edward had won the heart of the nation even before he gained the throne. The painful tragedy of his father’s death, his own youth, beauty, princely bearing and accomplishments, excited the sympathy and admiration of the people on his earliest appearance on the stage on which he was to play so great a part. His successful fortunes in war, and Warwick’s support, had commended young Edward to a people who had nothing to lose in losing Henry VI., and who hoped at least to gain peace and security under the protection of an arm which promised to be as strong to hold as it had been to acquire. Their minds, sickened by the gloom and horrors of war, were refreshed by the sight of their young King throwing himself with all the ardour of his nature into the light amusements and pleasures of peace; the citizens were charmed by his affability, their wives and daughters by his gaiety and gallantry. A new nobility, the mushroom growth of an hour, sprang up to sun itself in his smiles, to help him in the pursuit of pleasure, to increase the attractions of peace and of a Court. The commercial towns, and especially London, were pleased with a monarch who enriched them by his magnificent and sumptuous expenditure, and who gave a more liberal encouragement to commerce than they had known before. But two classes stood aloof and sullen: the old nobility, who felt that they were losing both their place and power in the Court and in the State; and those of the people who felt that, whether York or Lancaster were uppermost, they equally lost their rights, and failed to better their condition. The battlefields of Barnet and Tewkesbury rendered this dangerous element harmless for the future, and Edward, now able to breathe more freely than he had done heretofore, gave himself up without restraint to the impulses of his passions. His life henceforth became one voluptuous revel. The people were more ready to turn with him and his courtiers to pleasure than to criticise and condemn their vices; and so, in peace as in war, Edward’s sail was filled by the favouring breath of popularity. His love for his children and care for their education, his courteousness, his wisdom in weakening the power of the nobility, his encouragement of commerce, and his statesmanship, enlightened for those days, are all good points in Edward’s favour, and should be valued at their proper worth; but the possession of the ordinary virtues, and the performance of the ordinary duties of a prince and a parent, cannot fully redeem and make up for his extraordinary vice, perfidiousness, selfishness, and cruelty; and in the opinion of an age that is not dazzled by his fortune and ability, Edward’s hard, worldly, fleshly nature cannot be deemed worthy of admiration.
Richard III. and Henry VII. are but little concerned in the actual conduct of the civil war; not at all in its origin, but chiefly in furthering its effects, or reaping its fruits; but few words therefore need be spent on them here, as it is their policy rather than their personal characters that is of chief interest. The same terribly precocious development of an unscrupulous will and of a heart steeled against mercy, marks the character of Richard III. as that we have seen in Edward IV. The school of civil war in which he had been trained taught him to despise the barriers which could be removed by the shedding of blood, and none ever showed greater aptness in improving on the lessons he had learned. He equalled Louis XI. in dissimulation, in cunning, in statesmanship; he equalled his brother Edward in fearlessness and inflexible purpose; he surpassed him in learning and mental culture. In the estimation of some minds the special pleading of Horace Walpole and others may have succeeded in clearing Richard’s name of the crimes imputed to him, but the majority in this age, as in Richard’s own, who do not demand positive proofs of everything, but judge by the laws of probability, cannot help feeling (rightly or not) a moral certainty of his guilt.
The character of Henry VII. was admirably adapted to heal the sores and bind the wounds caused by the long civil war. Sufficiently bold, if necessity demanded it, he was yet disinclined to war; cold and cautious in temperament, he was little tolerant of any disturbing element of passion, and greatly averse to violent and extreme measures which might derange the stability and order of his government. Eminently practical in his views of men and of affairs—in this ushering in the modern order of rulers and of statesmen—he preferred the reality to the show of power, peace to war, order to misrule, wealth to poverty, domestic security to foreign aggrandisement.
The unfortunate Richard, Duke of York, hesitating when he should have been bold, and bold when he should have hesitated, with a heart that could not keep pace with his ambition, without the wisdom to justify his pretensions by the Right which is derived from Might, not sufficiently scrupulous to resist temptation, and too scrupulous to win the prize that tempted, ensuring his son’s success by his own failure; the amiable, generous, unsuspecting Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester; the wily, avaricious, scheming Suffolk; the bold, grasping, passionate Cardinal Beaufort; the accomplished courtier, boon companion, and skilful general, Montacute (brother to Warwick); George, Duke of Clarence, unstable as water, changeable as the wind, uniting a weak head to a bad heart; Earl Rivers, accomplished, brave, learned, and a patron of learning, the type of the modern nobleman; the high-spirited, unfortunate son of Margaret; Lord Hastings, the gay gallant, the daring knight, the sage in the council, the scholar in the study; all these and many more helped to swell the list of the horrid deeds, or served to supply the victims of those bloodstained times.
The Legend of King Arthur in Somerset.
By Mrs. C. G. Boger.
(Continued from Vol. V. p. 228.)