The Wars of the Roses

CHAPTER XXXVI

A DUKE IN RAGS

Among the Lancastrian chiefs who survived the two fields on which the Red Rose was trodden under the hoofs of King Edward's charger, none was destined to a more wretched fate than the conqueror's own brother-in-law, Henry, Duke of Exeter. The career of this chief of the family of Holland, from his cradle to his grave, forms a most melancholy chapter in the annals of the period.

The Hollands were somewhat inferior in origin to most of the great barons who fought in the Wars of the Roses. The founder of the house was a poor knight, who, from being secretary to an Earl of Lancaster, rose to some post of importance. His grandson, happening to hold the office of steward of the household to an Earl of Salisbury, contrived to espouse Joan Plantagenet, daughter of the Earl of Kent; and when that lady, known as "The Fair Maid of Kent," after figuring as a widow, became wife of "The Black Prince," the fortunes of the Hollands rose rapidly. One flourished as Earl of Kent; another was created Duke of Surrey; and a third, having been gifted with the earldom of Huntingdon, became Duke of Exeter and husband of Elizabeth of Lancaster, John of Gaunt's second daughter.

Notwithstanding his Lancastrian alliance, the first Duke of Exeter remained faithful to Richard in 1399, and, consequently, lost his head soon after that sovereign's deposition. The son of the decapitated nobleman, however, being nephew of the new king, was soon received into favor by Henry of Lancaster, and appointed Constable of the Tower and Lord High Admiral of England. At an early age he married a daughter of Edmund, Earl Stafford; and on the 27th of June, 1430, their only son was born in the Tower of London. On the same day he was carried to Cold Harbor in the arms of the Countess Marshal, who conveyed him in a barge to Westminster, where, in St. Stephen's Chapel, he was baptized by the name of Henry.

Fortune seemed to smile on the heir of the Hollands. Could the future have been foreseen, however, no young peasant, laboring in the fields and struggling out of serfdom, would have envied the infant destined to a career so miserable and a catastrophe so melancholy. The life of Henry Holland opened brightly enough. At the age of seventeen he succeeded his father as third Duke of Exeter and Lord High Admiral of England, and espoused Anne Plantagenet, eldest daughter of the Duke of York; and, at the time when the Roses were plucked, he appears to have favored the Yorkist cause. A change, however, came over his fortunes and his political sentiments.

Exeter had, in fact, chosen his party without due consideration, and ere long he saw reason to change sides. Indeed, his place in Parliaments and councils must have reminded the young duke that, through his grandmother, he was of the blood of Lancaster; and to a man of his rank flatterers would hardly be wanting to suggest the probability of the course of events bringing the regal sceptre to his hand. On arriving at years of discretion, Exeter changed the pale for the purple rose, and, after the first battle of St. Albans, he was under the necessity of flying to the sanctuary of Westminster. From that place of security he was taken on some pretext, and sent as a prisoner to Pontefract Castle.

When the political wind changed, Exeter recovered his liberty; and, as time passed over, he fought for Margaret of Anjou in the battles of Wakefield and Towton. After the rout of the Red Rose army on Palm Sunday, 1461, he fled with Henry into Scotland; but in the autumn of that year he was tempting fortune in Wales, and, in company with Jasper Tudor, stood embattled at Tutehill, near Carnarvon, against King Edward's forces. The Yorkists proving victorious, Exeter and his comrade in arms were fain to make for the mountains, leaving the Welsh Lancastrians no resource but to submit.

Exeter's biography now becomes obscure. The unfortunate duke can be traced, however, lurking on the Scottish frontier, fighting at Hexham, flying to a Northumbrian village, finding Margaret of Anjou in the outlaw's cave, accompanying the Lancastrian queen into exile, and wandering as a broken man on the Continent, while his duchess, in no degree inclined to share such fortunes, enjoyed the estate of her banished lord, lived at her brother's court, kept well with Elizabeth Woodville, and ministered to that lady's maternal ambition by pledging the hand of Exeter's heiress to the young Marquis of Dorset. When, however, Warwick chased Edward of York from the kingdom, Exeter appeared once more in England, and figured as one of the Lancastrian leaders at Barnet.

The disgrace of abandoning "The Stout Earl" on the field where he was laid low, Exeter did not share. As early as seven in the morning of that Easter Sunday he was struck by an arrow, and left for dead on the field. After remaining for nine hours, he was discovered still alive, and carried to the house of one of his servants named Ruthland. A surgeon having been found to dress the duke's wound, he was in such a degree restored as to be conveyed to the sanctuary of Westminster.

At this point mystery again settles over Exeter's history. It appears, however, that the ill-fated duke escaped to the Continent, and that the duchess seized the opportunity to break the last link that bound her to a husband so unfortunate. In November, 1472, nearly two years after the battle of Barnet, the Plantagenet lady, at her own suit, procured a divorce, and soon after married Sir Thomas St. Leger, Knight of the Body to King Edward. The duchess survived this event for three years. According to Sandford, she breathed her last in 1475; and "St. Leger surviving her," says Dugdale, "in 21 Edward IV. founded a perpetual chantry of two priests to celebrate divine service daily within the Chapel of St. George in Windsor Castle." Exeter's only daughter, who had been betrothed to the Marquis of Dorset, died before her mother, and Elizabeth Woodville secured the heiress of Bonville as bride for her son.

Meanwhile the plight of Exeter became deplorable, and in Flanders he was reduced to absolute beggary. Comines relates that, on one occasion, he saw the impoverished magnate running after the Duke of Burgundy, and begging bread for God's sake. In the hapless mendicant, in rags and misery, Burgundy did not recognize the once proud chief of the house of Holland – his cousin by blood and his brother-in-law by marriage. On being afterward informed, however, that the ragged mendicant was the banished Duke of Exeter, great-grandson of John of Gaunt, the king of Portugal's kinsman and his own, and formerly Lord High Admiral of England, owner of broad baronies, and husband of Anne Plantagenet, Charles the Rash was touched, and induced to bestow on Exeter a pension to save him from farther degradation.

Dugdale presumes that this scene occurred "after Barnet Field;" and, if so, Burgundy's bounty was not long enjoyed by the unfortunate recipient. Sometime in 1474 Exeter's earthly troubles ended. His body was found floating in the sea between Dover and Calais, but how he came by his death was never ascertained.

"In this year," says Fabyan, "was the Duke of Exeter found dead in the sea, between Dover and Calais, but how he was drowned the certainty is not known."

CHAPTER XXXVII

LOUIS DE BRUGES AT WINDSOR

In the autumn of 1472, while Oxford was being secured in the Castle of Hammes, and Edward was striving to get Pembroke and Richmond into his power, a guest, whom the king delighted to honor, appeared in England. This was Louis de Bruges, who had proved so true a friend in the hour of need; and right glad was Edward of York to welcome the Lord of Grauthuse to the regal castle which still stands, in the nineteenth century, a monument of the Plantagenets' pride in peace and prowess in war.

An account of the visit of the Burgundian nobleman, written at the time, has fortunately been preserved; and, as has been remarked, "far more luxurious and more splendid than might be deemed by those who read but the general histories of that sanguinary time, or the inventories of furniture in the houses even of the great barons, was the accommodation which Edward afforded to his guests."

On reaching Windsor, where, by-the-by, Margaret of Anjou was then a prisoner of state, Louis de Bruges was received by Lord Hastings, who, as the king's chamberlain, led the noble guest to apartments in the far side of the quadrangle of the castle, which were richly hung with arras of cloth of gold. Edward received Louis with every demonstration of affection, and presented him to his spouse; and Elizabeth Woodville was, of course, all courtesy to her husband's preserver. After the ceremony of reception was over, the king signified that Hastings should conduct the Lord of Grauthuse to his chamber, where supper was ready; and Louis found that every preparation had been made for entertaining him luxuriously.

The apartments appropriated to the Burgundian are described as having been fitted up in a way which must have impressed the eye even of a man accustomed to the magnificence of Dijon. The walls were hung with white silk and linen cloth, and the floor covered with rich carpets. The bed was of down, the sheets were of Rennes cloth, and the counterpane, the tester, and the ceiler were of cloth of gold and furred with ermine. In the second chamber was another state bed, and a couch with hangings like a tent. In the third, covered with white cloth, was a bath, which in that age was in daily use.

After partaking of supper in the apartments dedicated to his service, Louis was conducted to the queen's withdrawing room, where he found Elizabeth and her ladies amusing themselves with different games; some playing at marteaux with balls like marbles, and others at closheys, or nine-pins, made of ivory.

Next day, after matins, Edward took his guest to the Chapel of St. George, where they heard mass most melodiously sung. When mass had been performed, the king presented his guest with a cup of gold, garnished with pearl, in the middle of which was a large piece of unicorn's horn, and on the cover a great sapphire. Then the king led Louis to the quadrangle of the castle, and there the Prince of Wales, still in his second year, appeared, to bid the Lord of Grauthuse welcome to England. Having introduced his heir to the Burgundian lord, Edward conducted his guest into the little park, where they had much sport. The king made Louis ride his own horse; and of the animal, which is described as "a right fair hobby," he graciously made a present to his guest.

That day the king dined at the lodge in Windsor Park; and, the dinner over, he showed Louis his gardens and vineyard of pleasure. The queen ordered the evening banquet in her own apartments; and, when supper was over, the Princess Elizabeth danced with the Duke of Buckingham. Never did guest receive more flattering attentions than Louis. The king and courtiers did not take their leave of him for the night till they had escorted him to his apartments; and soon after, when he had been in his bath and was preparing to betake himself to repose, there were sent him by the queen's orders "green ginger, and divers sirups, and hippocras." Next morning Louis breakfasted with the king, and then, leaving Windsor, returned to Westminster.

At Westminster new honors awaited the Lord of Grauthuse. On St. Edward's Day – exactly nineteen years after the birth of the ill-fated Edward of Lancaster – the king created the Burgundian nobleman Earl of Winchester, and, with many complimentary phrases, gave him the arms of the family of De Quency, which had enjoyed that earldom at the time of the Barons' Wars. After having been granted a more substantial mark of Edward's gratitude in the shape of a pension, Louis de Bruges took his leave and returned to his own country.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE TREATY OF PICQUIGNY

When Edward's victories on Gladsmuir Heath and the banks of the Severn had rendered the Lancastrians in England utterly incapable of making head against the house of York, the martial king naturally turned his thoughts to Continental triumphs, and prepared to avenge himself on Louis of France for the encouragement which that monarch had openly and secretly given to the adherents of the Red Rose.

Apart from the friendship shown by the crafty king to Warwick and Lancaster, Edward had a strong reason for making war on Louis. It was well known that Louis had not only sneered at his royalty, but questioned his legitimacy, calling him "the son of the archer," and keeping alive a story which some envious Lancastrians had invented about an intrigue of the Duchess of York, the proudest of English matrons, with Blackburn of Middleham. Besides, Edward was not insensible to the glory and popularity to be acquired by emulating the martial deeds of his ancestors on Continental soil. Accordingly, in the year 1475, after concluding an alliance offensive and defensive with the Duke of Burgundy, and receiving promises of co-operation from the Constable St. Pol, Edward dispatched Garter-King-at-Arms to Louis, demanding the immediate surrender of the kingdom of France.

However startled Louis might be at the message, he did not lose his presence of mind. After reading Edward's letter and reflecting, he sent for the Garter-King, brought all his statecraft into play, expressed his high respect for the English king, deplored that such a prince should be deluded by so treacherous an ally as Burgundy, and persuaded the herald to urge his master to settle the matter amicably. Moreover, he promised Garter a thousand crowns when peace should be concluded; and, meanwhile, presented him with three hundred crowns. Garter-King-at-Arms was touched with the munificence of Louis, and promised his good offices; nay, more, significantly advised the King of France to open negotiations with the English ministers, whom he knew to be averse to a war.

Meanwhile, Edward had set himself to the task of providing money and men for the expedition he meditated; and as the project of a war with France was sure to make Parliament open the purse of the nation, a considerable sum was voted. To Edward, however, the amount appeared insufficient for his purpose, and he resolved upon a system of exaction practiced in time of Richard the Second, and known as "a benevolence." But money paid in this way was supposed to be a voluntary gift, and not likely to come in large sums unless asked for. Edward, therefore, sent for the wealthiest citizens of London, talked to them frankly, and pressed them to contribute liberally; and he besides secured the influence of the city dames, who exerted themselves to the utmost on his behalf. A story is told of a widow, who was not fond of parting with money, bringing twenty pounds. "By God's Blessed Lady," said Edward, who was present, "you shall have a king's kiss for that money," and suited the action to the word. "Sire," said she, delighted with this familiarity, "the honor is worth more money than I have given: " and the widow doubled her contribution.

Large sums having been obtained, a gallant army was soon raised. In fact, the sons of the men of Agincourt did not relish the idea of beating swords into plowshares; and to the royal standard came nearly twenty thousand men, headed by the Dukes of Clarence and Gloucester, the Marquis of Dorset, the Earl of Northumberland, Lord Stanley, Lord Hastings, and other men of rank. With these, and attended by Lord-chancellor Rotheram and the Bishop of Ely, Edward sailed from Sandwich, and, toward the close of June, landed at Calais, which he had last visited under the protection of Warwick, between their flight from Ludlow and their victory at Northampton.

High hopes were at first entertained by the invaders; but it soon became apparent that they were not destined to add a Cressy or an Agincourt to England's list of victories. At the very beginning, their enterprise was ruined by the constable's insincerity and Burgundy's rashness. The former failed to open the gates as he had promised; and the latter, instead of joining Edward with a large army, exhausted his strength before Neuss in a battle with the Swiss.

Louis began to breathe freely; and while the English army lay inactive at Peronne, French gold circulated freely among the leaders. A general desire for peace was, of course, the result; and, ere long, Edward caught the infection. French embassadors soon appeared, and offered to pay any thing in reason. A sum of seventy-five thousand crowns down, an annuity of fifty thousand crowns, and the dauphin as a husband for his eldest daughter – such were the terms submitted on the part of Louis for the acceptance of the English king. Edward could not resist such offers; and, after negotiations had gone on for some time, the kings agreed to a conference.

Picquigny, three leagues from Amiens, on the road from Calais to Paris, was selected as the scene, and the 29th of August appointed as the time for this memorable interview. Every precaution was taken to prevent mischief; and on the middle of the bridge which spanned the Somme, at Picquigny, were erected two sheds. These fronted each other, but were divided from top to bottom by a trellis of wood-work. The space between the gratings was no wider than to admit a man's arm; and the English king was to occupy one side of the barricade, while the French king occupied the other.

It appears that Richard of Gloucester considered the terms of treaty degrading, and declined to appear at the conference. Nevertheless, on the appointed morning, Edward, attended by Clarence, Northumberland, Hastings, and others, proceeded to the Bridge of Picquigny, and approached the grating. On the other side, Louis had already arrived, with the Duke of Bourbon, the Cardinal Bourbon, about ten other persons of the highest rank in France, and Philip de Comines, who had recently exchanged the service of Burgundy for that of Louis.

One glance at Edward as he advanced along the causeway, with his tall, graceful form arrayed in cloth of gold, and wearing on his regal head a velvet cap with a large fleur de lis formed of precious stones, must have convinced so acute an observer as Louis that the story about the archer of Middleham was an invention of the enemy; and as the King of England took off his cap, and bowed with grace, the French monarch, who had been leaning against the barrier, made a respectful obeisance, and exclaimed, "Cousin, you are right welcome. There is no person living I have been so ambitious of seeing." Edward, in good French, returned the compliment; and the two kings proceeded to business.

Notwithstanding a heavy fall of rain, which "came on to the great vexation of the French lords, who had dressed themselves and their horses in their richest habiliments, in honor of King Edward," the conference proved interesting. The Bishop of Ely, in a set harangue, quoted a prophecy of Merlin foreshadowing the august meeting; and a missal and crucifix having been produced, the kings, each placing one hand on the book and another on the crucifix, swore to observe religiously the terms of the treaty.

The solemn ceremony of swearing over, Louis became jocose, assured Edward he should be happy to see him in Paris, and promised to assign him, as confessor, the Cardinal Bourbon, who would, doubtless, readily grant absolution for any love affairs. Edward seemed to relish the prospect; and, knowing the cardinal's morals to be lax as his own, took the opportunity of displaying his wit in reply. After this the lords were sent to a little distance; and the kings, having spoken some words in private, shook hands through the grating, and parted – Louis riding to Amiens, and Edward to the English camp.

No sooner had Louis left the bridge of Picquigny than he repented of the invitation he had given Edward to visit the French capital. "Certes," said the crafty monarch to Comines, as they rode toward Amiens, "our brother of England is a fine king, and a warm admirer of the ladies. At Paris he might chance to find some dame so much to his taste as to tempt him to return. His predecessors have been too often both in Paris and Normandy already, and I have no great affection for his company on this side of the Channel."

At Amiens, on the same evening, when Louis was sitting down to supper, an amusing scene occurred. Sir John Howard, now a baron, and Sir John Cheyney, Edward's Master of the Horse, had been appointed to accompany Louis to Paris; and Howard, whose vanity made him, as usual, ridiculous, whispered to the French king that it would go hard but he would persuade Edward to come to Paris a while and be merry. Louis allowed this to pass without returning any direct answer; but afterward he took occasion to say that the war with Burgundy would render his presence absolutely necessary in another part of France.

But, whatever his apprehensions, Louis was not doomed to have his formidable contemporary as a foe or a guest on the banks of the Seine. Edward, doubtless delighted with the prospect of indulging in hunting, carousing, and love-making at Shene or Windsor, recalled, without delay, his soldiers from Peronne, Abbeville, and other places, and, escorted by the Bishop of Evreux, marched back to Calais. Thence he embarked for England, but not without being unpleasantly reminded that he hardly came off with royal honors. In fact, the Constable of St. Pol, apparently enraged that events had taken such a turn as to profit him nothing, wrote Edward a furious letter, calling him "a coward, a pitiful and poor sovereign, for having made a treaty with a king who would not keep one of his promises."15

The Plantagenet sent St. Pol's epistle to the King of France, and digested the affront; and while Louis, who had already been suspected of poisoning his brother, Charles de Valois, got rid of another enemy by beheading the constable, Edward returned to England to expend the money he had received as a bribe on those pleasures destined to destroy his health and obscure his intellect. Nor did his nobles come home empty-handed. Dorset, Hastings, and Howard, Sir John Cheyney and Sir Thomas St. Leger, had become pensioners of the French king; and the people were left to complain that the expedition for which they had paid so dearly had ended in infamy. Perhaps, under such circumstances, they did drop a tear over the grave of "The Stout Earl," who, had he been alive, would not have stood quietly by while a king of England extracted taxes from English subjects to commence an unnecessary war, and took bribes from a French monarch to conclude a humiliating peace.

CHAPTER XXXIX

A DOMESTIC TRAGEDY

At the opening of the year 1477, Charles the Rash, Duke of Burgundy, fell at Nanci, before the two-handed swords of the Swiss mountaineers, leaving, by his first wife, Isabel of Bourbon, a daughter, Mary, the heiress of his dominions. About the same time, George, Duke of Clarence, and Anthony Woodville, Earl Rivers, happened to become widowers. The duke and the earl, in other days rivals for the hand of the heiress of Lord Scales, immediately entered the arena as candidates for that of Mary of Burgundy, and their rivalry produced one of the darkest domestic tragedies recorded in the Plantagenet annals.

Clarence appears to have been the first to urge his claims. Almost ere the dust had time to gather on the coffin of his departed wife in the Abbey of Tewkesbury, the bereaved husband of Isabel Neville applied to his sister, the widow of Burgundy, to forward his suit with her step-daughter. The widowed duchess was the reverse of unfavorable to a matrimonial project so likely to advance the fortunes of her family, and the heart of Clarence for a moment glowed with anticipations of a great matrimonial success.

But the hopes which Clarence cherished of a marriage with the heiress of Burgundy were rudely dispelled. The duke, whose shallow brain was muddled with Malmsey, soon found that he was no match for veteran courtiers. Experienced intriguers, the Woodvilles were prompt in their measures to defeat any project that jarred with their interests; and Elizabeth instilled into her husband's mind such suspicions as to Clarence's intentions, that Edward not only refused to hear of an alliance that "might enable Clarence to employ the power of Burgundy to win the crown," but even let down his dignity so far as to propose a marriage between Anthony, Earl Rivers, and the daughter of Charles the Rash. The court of Burgundy, treating the proposal with the disdain it deserved, gave the heiress to the Emperor Maximilian; and the Woodvilles, finding their presumption checked, and resolved to console themselves by making Clarence a victim, bent all their energies to effect his ruin.