History of the Life and Reign of Richard the Third

HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND REIGN OF RICHARD THE THIRD

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James Gairdner

CHIOS CLASSICS

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

History of the Life and Reign of Richard the Third

CHAPTER I.RICHARD’S CAREER AS DUKE OF GLOUCESTER UNTIL THE DEATH OF EDWARD IV

CHAPTER II.ACTS OF RICHARD AS PROTECTOR

CHAPTER III.TERMINATION OF THE PROTECTORSHIP

CHAPTER IV.MURDER OF THE PRINCES AND REBELLION OF THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM

CHAPTER V.RICHARD’S GOVERNMENT, HIS PARLIAMENT AND HIS RELATIONS WITH FOREIGN POWERS

CHAPTER VI.INVASION OF RICHMOND – DEFEAT AND DEATH OF RICHARD

HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND REIGN OF RICHARD THE THIRD

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James Gairdner

CHAPTER I.RICHARD’S CAREER AS DUKE OF GLOUCESTER UNTIL THE DEATH OF EDWARD IV

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RICHARD III WAS ONE OF the first of those dark characters in history whom it has been the effort of some modern writers to present under an aspect not altogether to repulsive as that in which his name and deeds have been handed down to us. The apparent insufficiency of the testimony to most of his imputed crimes was first pointed out by Walpole in his Historic Doubts and since that day there have not been wanting inquirers who have inclined to a more favorable view of his character. Nevertheless, the general opinion is unshaken. The scantiness of contemporary evidences and the prejudices of original authorities may be admitted as reasons for doubting isolated facts, but can hardly be expected to weaken the conviction derived from Shakespeare and tradition as much as from anything else that Richard was indeed cruel and unnatural beyond the ordinary measure even of those violent and ferocious times. There is, besides, much in the undisputed facts of the case which, in the eye of common sense, favors greatly this impression. A reign of violence is naturally short-lived and the reigns of Edward V and Richard III are the shortest in English history. Taken together, their duration was less than two years and a half; and it is in vain to deny that Richard had long before lost the hearts of his subjects except upon the common supposition that they were never his to lose.

Yet, historically considered, Richard III is not a monster. He is the natural outgrowth of monstrous and horrible times. He is the fitting termination of the rule of the House of York the exemplification of an old, divinely attested saying that they who take the sword shall perish by it. It is true Richard’s father, the Duke of York, who first urged the claims of that House, was anything but an extreme man. On the contrary, he protested by every loyal means against misgovernment, and exhausted every form of peaceable remonstrance, before he finally advanced his title to the crown. But his moderation in which, unfortunately, he did not himself persevere to the end was not imitated by his sons. It was, indeed, very ill requited by his enemies when he fell into their hands at Wakefield and the lesson of vindictiveness set by the friends of Margaret of Anjou was not forgotten when the next turn of the wheel gave the victory to Edward IV. How could it be expected that the conqueror should treat his opponents with greater leniency than they had shown to his father? Civil war had already blunted all sense of delicacy, and violence now became a part almost of the established order of things. The House of York abused their triumph, became intolerant of rivals, and imbrued their hands in the blood of princes. Hardened by degrees in acts of cruelty and perfidy, they grew faithless even to each other. Clarence rebelled against his brother Edward, and, though forgiven, was finally put to death by Edward’s order. The court was split up into factions. The old nobility were jealous of the Queen and of her relations. It was a world which, as Edward foresaw before his death, was not likely to hold together very long after him. Such a world, in fact, almost invites a bold and unscrupulous man to take the rule and subdue it.

Richard III was born at Fotheringhay, a castle belonging to his father, the Duke of York, on Monday, Birth of October 2, 1452. He was a military commander Richard III before he was nineteen, usurped the throne when he was thirty-one, and was killed at Bosworth at the age of thirty three. Precocious, therefore, he certainly was, and accustomed from his early years to scenes of war and bloodshed. How early he exhibited the fruits of their teaching in his own conduct is a question rather difficult to answer. He left such a reputation behind him that even his birth was said to have proclaimed him a monster. He had been two years, we are told, in his mother’s womb, and was born or rather, like Macduff, was by a surgical operation separated from his mother’s body when he came into the world feet foremost, with teeth in his jaws, and with hair down to the shoulders. Such are the combined reports of different writers; and for effect they may as well be read together.

It is more material, perhaps, to observe that he was the eleventh in a family of twelve, of whom the eleven. His family was born in thirteen years, and the twelfth nearly three years after his birth. A curious and painstaking collector of that age, by name William Worcester, has left us an exact record of the very day, hour, and place of the nativity of each of these children; so that the ages of Richard and of all his brothers and sisters are tolerably certain. Certain enough, at least, for the historian’s purpose; for with all his accuracy, it must be remarked that there are one or two slight numerical.

The honest rhymester goes on to tell us that Anne was married in her tender youth to the Duke of Exeter; that Henry, the eldest son, was dead, and had left Edward, ‘now Earl of March,’ to succeed him; who with his brother Edmund, Earl of Rutland, might both be counted ‘fortunabil to right high mariage,’ but that the other four were still in their pupillage.

Thus of this family of twelve five had been lost when Richard was a child and it would seem that Richard himself was slender and sickly. A modern historian, who devoted much thought and many years of study to the history of Richard III, found evidence somewhere, as he believed, that Richard had serious illness as a child, but was not able to refer to the source of his information. Another writer suggests that the expression ‘Richard liveth yet’ in the above verses rather favors this supposition; which, perhaps, is plausible. But we have distinct testimony to the fact that in after life he was a small man of feeble bodily powers disadvantages which did not prevent him from exhibiting, not only great skill as a general, but great bravery on the field of battle.

There is nothing to tell about his early history till he was seven years old. Even at his birth the court stood in dread of his father’s claims to the crown, and the civil war had broken out openly before he was quite three years old. But in October 1459 a battle seemed imminent at Ludlow when the Duke of York finding himself deserted by a portion of his followers broke up his camp and fled to Ireland. So abrupt was his flight that he was obliged to leave behind him his duchess with her two youngest sons George and Richard in Ludlow Castle; and they fell into the hands of Henry VI, who handed them over to Anne duchess of Buckingham, the Duke of York’s sister. Next year, however, the state of matters was, for a brief time, completely reversed. At the battle of Northampton (10 July 1460) the King fell into the hands of the victorious Yorkists. The Duke of York returned from Ireland, and at last openly challenged the crown in Parliament. For years he had tried a more moderate policy with never more than temporary success. He had been met with repeated bad faith, and experience showed clearly that it was impossible to bind by any pledges a weak minded King who was continually in the hands of others. So he now put forth his claim to be the rightful king himself by inheritance, the whole line of the house of Lancaster having been mere intruders. The Lords were undoubtedly intimidated. The case was altogether novel. They sought counsel of the judges, but the judges declined to advise those who were themselves the supreme council of the realm in a matter of so high a nature. Left to themselves, the Lords declined to dispossess at once a reigning dynasty and an anointed king, but agreed that Henry should still be their sovereign for life and the Duke of York his successor. Meanwhile the Duke was to have full control of the government as Protector while King Henry lived.

Thus the matter was decided in Parliament but Margaret of Anjou immediately intrigued with her friends to overthrow the settlement by force of arms, and the Duke of York was compelled in December to go down into Yorkshire where he lost his life at the battle of Wakefield. The conquerors were ferocious in their triumph. After a mock coronation with a crown of twisted grass, they cut off the Duke of York’s head, which Clifford, who also in cold blood killed his son the Duke of Rutland, had the savage gratification of presenting to Queen Margaret.

When the Duke of York’s widow heard of this crushing defeat, followed soon afterwards by the news that Queen Margaret and her followers were coming up to London and had gained another victory over the Yorkists at St. Albans, she sent her two sons, George and Richard, across the sea to Utrecht for their security and there they remained a while under the protection of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy. But the cloud passed away sooner than could have been anticipated. Young Edward, inheriting his father’s pretensions, came promptly up from the borders of Wales, where he won the battle of Mortimer’s Cross against the Lancastrian party and on his approach to London he was received with joy by the citizens, who by no means liked what they had heard of the ravages of Margaret’s northern followers. The Council in London named Edward King. The people in St John’s Field ratified their decision, and openly declared with a loud ‘No, No’ that Henry should reign over them no longer. Before a month had passed away Edward had fully vindicated his pretensions on the bloody field of Towton, in Yorkshire. Henry and his queen were driven to take refuge in Scotland, and did not improve their chances of recovering the hearts of Englishmen by surrendering Berwick to the Scots.

The new king’s brothers then returned from Utrecht. The elder, George, was made Duke of Clarence; the younger, Richard, Duke of Gloucester. Although even the elder was only twelve years old, high offices were conferred on both. Clarence was appointed Lieutenant of Ireland; Gloucester was made admiral of the sea. Manors and lands in various counties were also bestowed on each of them in abundance. The House of York was now strongly seated upon the throne, and all three brothers lived for a while, so far as it appears, in harmony. But before many years were over differences began to display themselves. Edward’s marriage with Elizabeth Woodville was unpopular. The Earl of Warwick seduced Clarence from his allegiance, but Richard remained faithful to his brother Edward. Clarence escaped secretly over sea, and married the Earl of Warwick’s daughter at Calais then came into England with his father-in-law, and raised a rebellion. The insurgents beheaded Earl Rivers and Sir John Woodville, the father and brother of Edward’s queen. Next year Henry VI was restored, and Clarence was declared by Parliament next in the succession on the failure of the male issue of King Henry. Edward, meanwhile, had to seek refuge with his brother-in-law Charles, Duke of Burgundy. But with the help of Charles he returned to England at the end of a stormy winter, before Margaret of Anjou with the young Prince Edward ventured to leave France to rejoin her husband. On his coming Clarence again changed sides, and was reconciled to his brother. Warwick was defeated and slain in the battle of Barnet, and a few days later Margaret and her son, having just landed on the south coast, received a final overthrow at the battle of Tewkesbury.

These events are so well known to readers of English history that we need not enter into them more fully. It concerns us only to remark that Edward’s confidence in his younger brother Richard remained unshaken or rather was increased by the desertion of Clarence. Richard accompanied him into Norfolk on a progress just before the breaking out of Robin of Redesdale’s rebellion. I presume that he also went with him against the rebels, though whether he shared his imprisonment that year, when the king fell for a time into Warwick’s hands, there is no evidence to show. He, however, returned to London in his company; and immediately afterwards, on the 10th October, Edward appointed him Constable of England for life, and Chief Justiciar of South Wales. Next year, also, just before his sudden expulsion from his kingdom, one of Edward’s latest acts was to make his brother Richard Warden of the West Marches against Scotland.

But the part taken by Richard in his brother’s restoration in 1471 was so important that a few characteristic details must be given which have hitherto escaped attention. Richard had shared his brother’s exile and returned along with him but Edward’s fleet was dispersed by a storm before he reached Ravenspur, and Richard with a company of 300 men landed at a place four miles off, while the ship of the Earl of Rivers touched land at fourteen miles’ distance. Next day, however, the companies joined; but the country people, though they had been attached to the late Duke of York, were up in arms to oppose them, till Edward gave out that he came only to claim his dukedom. Hull refused to open its gates to him and he pushed on to York. At four miles’ distance from the city he was met by one Martin De la Mere and the recorder Thomas Conyers, who endeavored to persuade him that if he entered he was lost. He, however, advanced with fifteen men-at-arms only, leaving the army under Richard’s command at three bow-shots’ distance from the city, and addressed the mayor at one of the gates; who said they were willing to receive him and his attendants but not his army. Edward returned to his host and consulted what to do. It was felt that it would not be safe for him to enter only with a few. Nevertheless he did so, and though the multitude were crying Long live king Henry! he addressed them so plausibly as the son of their duke who was only come to recover his duchy and avenge his private quarrel against Warwick, whom the citizens of York disliked as much as he did, that he got leave to introduce his army for the night, on condition that they left again within twelve hours.

Next morning, however, at 10 o’clock Martin De la Mere ventured to complain that his men made no haste to depart, and told Edward that he should not be allowed to leave himself unless he went to the minister and took a solemn oath never to make any claim to the crown. Edward rebuked him for this insolence. Where, he asked, were the lords of England before whom he should take such an oath? The citizens must wait till the Earl of Northumberland and other lords of the country could be summoned for it would not be honorable in him to take the oath before his own vassals. During this conversation, Gloucester spoke apart to the lords Rivers and Scales, saying he did not see how they could get safely out of the town unless they first killed Martin De la Mere and the recorder there in the chamber which they agreed to do if they found it necessary. But Rivers persuaded Edward to keep Martin and the recorder engaged in talk while he got the army ready to leave for which he at once gave orders, directing his own men to take possession of one of the gates and keep it open till they all had passed. In this manner Edward and his army were able to quit the city in safety.

We can understand from all this how Richard, now in his nineteenth year, though displaying great fidelity to his brother, was getting familiarized early with thoughts and deeds of violence. When Edward came to Banbury he was with him at the meeting and reconciliation with Clarence between the two hosts. Shortly afterwards he commanded Edward’s vanguard at the battle of Barnet. The glory of that day’s victory was largely due to him and when the scene of action shifted in a few days, he earned the same honor in the field of Tewkesbury. Here he displayed a capacity of generalship that could hardly have been expected in one so young. For Somerset, who commanded the enemy’s van, had taken up a strong position, and entrenched himself on high ground. The Duke of Gloucester attacked his trench, and after some fighting recoiled; on which Somerset, expecting to have been followed by Lord Wenlock, who commanded what was called ‘the middle ward’ of that army, allowed himself to be lured into a pursuit. But Lord Wenlock did not follow, and after a time Gloucester and his men turned round and put the forces of Somerset to shameful rout in disgust and indignation at which the Duke of Somerset, after falling back, called Wenlock traitor and dashed his brains out.

It is a tradition of later times that Gloucester tarnished the glory he had won that day by butchering in cold blood after the battle Edward, Prince of Wales, the son of Henry VI. This Edward was a lad of eighteen, just one year younger than Gloucester himself; but he had been associated with Lord Wenlock in the command of ‘the middle ward’ of the enemy. The story may be doubted, as resting on very slender testimony and that not strictly contemporary; nevertheless, it cannot be safely pronounced apocryphal. Two of the earliest authorities, indeed, state that Edward was slain in the field; and another well-informed historian of that age seems to say the same, though his words may be taken to mean either in the field or after the battle. Fabyan, a little later, is rather minuter, King Edward himself, he tells us, struck the young fellow with his gauntlet upon the face; on which the king’s servants followed up the blow and dispatched him.

That it was a deliberate murder after the battle is certainly not inconceivable when we consider the conduct of the victors towards others of the vanquished party. Neither is such a view altogether inconsistent with the statement of the two early authorities who say the prince was slain ‘in the field.’ One of these writers could not be expected to say more; for he was an immediate follower of King Edward, and his narrative is in fact an official account of the events connected with Edward’s restoration, which the king himself caused to be published in foreign countries. The other, who is a more independent authority, even lends some color to the story by saying that the prince ‘cried for succour to his brother-in-law, the Duke of Clarence.’ To say the least, there is nothing here inconsistent with the view that he was butchered after he was in the power of the conquerors; and the circumstantial account given by Fabyan has every appearance of probability.

Goaded by strong resentment of the wrongs done to his father and himself, Edward had already been guilty of more than one act of cruelty and bad faith. At one time he had been disposed to trust men too much; now he was altogether unsparing and relentless. But if the murder of Prince Edward was in any degree attributable to his brother Richard, it was doubtless the first of a long catalogue of crimes, each of which rests by itself on slender testimony enough, though any one of them, being admitted, lends greater credit to the others. From this point of view, I must frankly own that it strikes me as not at all improbable that Richard was a murderer at nineteen. Whoever would investigate the morbid anatomy of guilt must find in the entrance to a career of crime some motive not altogether hateful that first led to its perpetration. And here we have such a motive, clear and intelligible. A younger brother, who has earned a character for fidelity to the head of his house; whose conduct, in this respect, has been the more gratifying from the temporary defection of a senior; who has learned, by his eldest brother’s example, lessons of perfidious cruelty; and who has good reason to believe that the enemy, if victorious, would be perfidious and cruel also how should such a one be over-scrupulous? It must have seemed to him only a service to his own family to lop off each dangerous branch of an unrelenting enemy an act of self defense, tending to peace and quietness a thing needful for the tranquility, not only of the House of York, but of the kingdom.

And it is by no means improbable that others took the same view and that for this very reason it was a crime at first condoned by the nation. For this very reason would chroniclers overlook it, treat it as no crime at all, or conceal the name of the doer; till, later on, he was remembered as the author or agent of things far more unnatural. Under any circumstances, however, there seems no good reason to doubt that the lad was really murdered and even if we could think Richard guiltless of the deed, the deed itself was a most unhappy part of his experience at the commencement of active life.

Yet, after all, the whole responsibility for this particular act was never attributed to Richard. Even the fuller details contained in Holinshed’s Chronicle make Richard an accomplice in the act with others. It is possible that the circumstances of the case were preserved only by tradition, till the days of Polydore Vergil and of Hall the Chronicler; but they are not on that account unworthy of credit. According to Hall’s account, the prince was taken prisoner in the engagement by Sir Richard Croftes, ‘a wise man and a valiant knight.’ After the battle King Edward made proclamation that whoever brought the prince to him, alive or dead, should have a 100 a year settled on him for life, and that the prince’s life should be spared. Trusting to the king’s promise, Croftes brought his prisoner, a handsome youth, but with a somewhat feminine appearance.

Whom when King Edward had well regarded, he demanded of him how he durst so presumptuously enter into his realm with banner displayed? The prince, being bold of stomach and of good courage, answered, saying: To recover my father’s kingdom and inheritance, from his father and grandfather to him, and from him after him to me, lineally descended. At which words King Edward said nothing, but with his hand thrust him from him, or, as some say, struck him with his gauntlet; whom incontinent, they that stood about, which were George Duke of Clarence, Richard Duke of Gloucester, Thomas Marquis Dorset, and William Lord Hastings suddenly murdered.

If, then, this was Richard’s first heinous crime, it was probably one in which he was only an accessory, or in which, if a principal actor, he received great encouragement from those about him. On the other hand, to suppose him altogether guiltless in this matter is a great violation of all reasonable probability. For, however feeble may be the direct evidence of his complicity, it would be absurd to suppose that he either disapproved the act, or was greatly shocked at it. If for a moment we could venture to entertain such a charitable suspicion, it is not likely to be strengthened by the consideration of what followed immediately afterwards. The Duke of Somerset, the Prior of the Knights of St John, and others of the defeated party instead of flying for their lives, took refuge in the abbey church of Tewkesbury. Edward pursued them into the church, sword in hand but a priest, interrupted in singing mass, came down from the altar and conjured him, out of regard to the host which he carried, to pardon the refugees. Edward gave them all a free pardon, and had a solemn thanksgiving service performed in the abbey for his victory. This was on Saturday, May 4, the very day the battle was fought. Yet on Monday following, the Duke of Somerset and fourteen others were brought before a summary tribunal, in which the Duke of Gloucester sat as Constable of England, and the Duke of Norfolk as Marshal of England. They were condemned to death and every one of them beheaded two days after receiving the king’s pardon!

The Lancastrian party was now crushed. The haughty Margaret of Anjou was taken prisoner near Worcester a week after the battle, and was brought to Edward at Coventry. But Edward was immediately after recalled to London to put down one last desperate effort in behalf of Henry VI. The Bastard Falconbridge, who had been put in command of a fleet by the Earl of Warwick, landed first on the coast of Kent, and afterwards sailed up the Thames and came before London, seeking to liberate King Henry from the Tower. The Londoners denied him entrance to the city, and he attacked the suburbs, setting fire to Aldgate, Bishopsgate, and London Bridge. The citizens, however, aided by the Earl of Essex, and also by Earl Rivers, to whom Edward had given the custody of the Tower, succeeded in defending themselves, and the Bastard and his men withdrew into Kent before the king came. Edward arrived, accompanied by his brother Richard, on Tuesday, May 21. He was triumphantly received by the citizens, and gave the honor of knighthood to the mayor, the recorder, and several aldermen, and others who had distinguished themselves in the defense.

That night the unfortunate King Henry died in the Tower of London and how he died it seems almost needless to say. The official chronicler, who dates his death May 23 instead of May 21, declares that he died ‘of pure displeasure and melancholy’ at the disasters which had befallen his party and his family. But, considering the source from which this statement comes, and its total disagreement with the accounts of almost all other writers in or near the time, it is impossible to attach any weight to it whatever. The following is the circumstantial account of John Warkworth, Master of St Peter’s College, Cambridge written certainly within twelve years after the event and probably when the news was much more recent:

And the same night that King Edward came to London, King Harry, being in ward in prison in the Tower of London, was put to death, the 21st day of May, on a Tuesday night betwixt eleven and twelve of the clock, being then at the Tower the Duke of Gloucester, brother