Margaret of Anjou

The king taken prisoner.

King Henry's forces were soon routed with great slaughter. The Duke of Somerset and several other prominent nobles were killed. The king himself was wounded by an arrow, which struck him in the neck as he was standing under his banner in the street with his officers around him. When these his attendants saw that the battle was going against him, they all forsook him and fled, leaving him by his banner alone. He remained here quietly for some time, and then went into a shop near by, where presently the Duke of York found him.

The duke's demeanor.

As soon as the Duke came into the king's presence he kneeled before him, thus acknowledging him as king, and said,

"The traitor and public enemy against whom we took up arms is dead, and now there will be no farther trouble."

"Then," said the king, "for God's sake, go and stop the slaughter of my subjects."

1457. The king conveyed to London.

The duke immediately sent orders to stop the fighting, and, taking the king by the hand, he led him to the Abbey of St. Alban's, a venerable monastic edifice, greatly celebrated in the histories of these times, and there caused him to be conveyed to his apartment. The next day he took him to London. He rendered him all external tokens of homage and obedience by the way, but still virtually the king was his prisoner.

Margaret's despair.

Poor Queen Margaret was all this time at Greenwich, waiting in the utmost suspense and anxiety to hear tidings of the battle. When, at length, the news arrived that the battle had been lost, that the king had been wounded, and was now virtually a prisoner in the hands of her abhorred and hated enemy, she was thrown into a state of utter despair, so much so that she remained for some hours in a sort of stupor, as if all was now lost, and it was useless and hopeless to continue the struggle any longer.

The king's wound. The queen and the prince.

She however, at length, revived, and began to consider again what was to be done. The prospect before her, however, seemed to grow darker and darker. The fatigue and excitement which the king had suffered, joined to the effects of his wound, which seemed not disposed to heal, produced a relapse. The Duke of York appears to have considered that the time had not yet come for him to attempt to assert his claims to the throne. He contented himself with so exhibiting the condition of the king to members of Parliament as to induce that body to appoint him protector again. When he had thus regained possession of power, he restored the king to the care of the queen, and sent her, with him and the little prince, into the country.

Grand reconciliation. 1458. Mutual distrust.

One of the most extraordinary circumstances which occurred in the course of these anxious and troubled years was a famous reconciliation which took place at one time between the parties to this great quarrel. It was at a time when England was threatened with an invasion from France. Queen Margaret proposed a grand meeting of all the lords and nobles on both sides, to agree upon some terms of pacification by which the intestine feud which divided and distracted the country might be healed, and the way prepared for turning their united strength against the foe. But it was a very dangerous thing to attempt to bring these turbulent leaders together. They had no confidence in each other, and no one of them would be willing to come to the congress without bringing with him a large armed force of followers and retainers, to defend him in case of violence or treachery. Finally, it was agreed to appoint the Lord-mayor of London to keep the peace among the various parties, and, to enable him to do this effectually, he was provided with a force of ten thousand men. These men were volunteers raised from among the citizens of London.

Meeting of the nobles.

When the time arrived for the meeting, the various leaders came in toward London, each at the head of a body of retainers. One man came with five hundred men, another with four hundred, and another with six hundred, who were all dressed in uniform with scarlet coats. Another nobleman, representing the great Percy family, came at the head of a body of fifteen hundred men, all his own personal retainers, and every one of them ready to fight any where and against any body, the moment that their feudal lord should give the word.

Armed bands.

These various chieftains, each at the head of his troops, came to London at the appointed time, and established themselves at different castles and strong-holds in and around the city, like so many independent sovereigns coming together to negotiate a treaty of peace.

Disputes and debates.

They spent two whole months in disputes and debates, in which the fiercest invectives and the most angry criminations and recriminations were uttered continually on both sides. At length, marvelous to relate, they came to an agreement. All the points in dispute were arranged, a treaty was signed, and a grand reconciliation—that is, a pretended one—was the result.

The treaty.

This meeting was convened about the middle of January, and on the twenty-fourth of March the agreement was finally made and ratified, and sealed, in a solemn manner, by the great seal. It contained a great variety of agreements and specifications, which it is not necessary to recapitulate here, but when all was concluded there was a grand public ceremony in commemoration of the event.

Procession.

At this celebration the king and queen, wearing their crowns and royal robes, walked in solemn procession to St. Paul's Cathedral in the city. They were followed by the leading peers and prelates walking two and two; and, in order to exhibit to public view the most perfect tokens and pledges of the fullness and sincerity of this grand reconciliation, it was arranged that those who had been most bitterly hostile to each other in the late quarrels should be paired together as they walked. Thus, immediately behind the king, who walked alone, came the queen and the Duke of York walking together hand in hand, as if they were on the most loving terms imaginable, and so with the rest.

Mock reconciliation.

The citizens of London, and vast crowds of other people who had come in from the surrounding towns to witness the spectacle, joined in the celebration by forming lines along the streets as the procession passed by, and greeting the reconciled pairs with long and loud acclamations; and when night came, they brightened up the whole city with illuminations of their houses and bonfires in the streets.

Fighting again.

In about a year after this the parties to this grand pacification were fighting each other more fiercely and furiously than ever.

The Little Prince and his Swans.

The prince's journey. The little swans.

At one time, when the little prince was about six years old, the queen made a royal progress through certain counties in the interior of the country, ostensibly to benefit the king's health by change of air, and by the gentle exercise and agreeable recreation afforded by a journey, but really, it is said, to interest the nobles and the people of the region through which she passed in her cause, and especially in that of the little prince, whom she took on that occasion to show to all the people on her route. She had adopted for him the device of his renowned ancestor, Edward III., which was a swan; and she had caused to be made for him a large number of small silver swans, which he was to present to the nobles and gentlemen, and to all who were admitted to a personal audience, in the towns through which he passed. He was a bright and beautiful boy, and he gave these little swans to the people who came around him with such a sweet and charming grace, that all who saw him were inspired with feelings of the warmest interest and affection for him.

War breaks out again.

Very soon after this time the war between the two great contending parties broke out anew, and took such a course as very soon deprived King Henry of his crown. The events which led to this result will be related in the next chapter.

CHAPTER XV.

Margaret a Fugitive

1459. The battle of Blore Heath. The queen's orders.

In the summer of 1459, the year after the grand reconciliation took place which is described in the last chapter, two vast armies, belonging respectively to the two parties, which had been gradually gathering for a long time, came up together at a place called Blore Heath,14 in Staffordshire, in the heart of England. A great battle ensued. During the battle Henry lay dangerously ill in the town of Coleshill, which was not far off. Margaret was at Maccleston, another village very near the field of battle. From the tower of the church in Maccleston she watched the progress of the fight. Salisbury was at the head of the York party. Margaret's troops were commanded by Lord Audley. When Audley took leave of her to go into battle, she sternly ordered him to bring Salisbury to her, dead or alive.

Decorations.

Audley had ten thousand men under his command. The soldiers were all adorned with red rosettes, the symbol of the house of Lancaster. The officers wore little silver swans upon their uniform, such as Prince Edward had distributed.

Battle lost.

The queen watched the progress of the battle with intense anxiety, and soon, to her consternation and dismay, she saw that it was going against her. She kept her eyes upon Audley's banner, and when, at length, she saw it fall, she knew that all was lost. She hurried down from the tower, and, with a few friends to accompany her, she fled for her life to a strong-hold belonging to her friends that was not at a great distance.

Feeble condition of the king.

The king, too, had to be removed, in order to prevent his being taken prisoner. He was, however, too feeble to know much or to think much of what was going on. When they came to take him on his pallet to carry him away, he looked up and asked, feebly, "who had got the day," but beyond this he gave no indication of taking any interest in the momentous events that were transpiring.

Spirit and temper of the queen. 1460. Success of her efforts.

This defeat, instead of producing a discouraging and disheartening effect upon Margaret's mind, only served to arouse her to new vigor and determination. She had been somewhat timid and fearful in the earlier part of her troubles, when she had only a husband to think of and to care for. But now she had a son; and the maternal instinct seemed to operate in her case, as it has done in so many others, to make her fearless, desperate, and, in the end, almost ferocious, in protecting her offspring from harm, and in maintaining his rights. She immediately engaged with the utmost zeal and ardor in raising a new army. She did not trust the command of it to any general, but directed all the operations of it herself. There is not space to describe in detail the campaigns that ensued, but the result was a complete victory. Her enemies were, in their turn, entirely defeated, and the two great leaders, the Duke of York and the Earl of Warwick, were actually driven out of the kingdom. The Duke of York retreated to Ireland, and the Earl of Warwick went across the Straits of Dover to Calais, which was still in English possession, and a great naval and military station.

The Earl of Warwick. His successful advance.

In a very short time after this, however, Warwick came back again with a large armed force, which he had organized at Calais, and landed in the southern part of England. He marched toward London, carrying all before him. It was now his party's turn to be victorious; for by the operation of that strange principle which seems to regulate the ups and downs of opposing political parties in all countries and in all ages, victory alternates between them with almost the regularity of a pendulum. The current of popular sentiment, which had set so strongly in favor of the queen's cause only a short year before, appeared to be now altogether in favor of her enemies. Every body flocked to Warwick's standard as he marched northwardly from the coast toward London, and at London the people opened the gates of the city and received him and his troops as if they had been an army of deliverers.

Northampton. The king made captive.

Warwick did not delay long in London. He marched to the north to meet the queen's troops. Another great battle was fought at Northampton. Margaret watched the progress of the fight from an eminence not far distant. The day went against her. The result of the battle was that the poor king was taken prisoner the second time and carried in triumph to London.

The captors, however, treated him with great consideration and respect—not as their enemy and as their prisoner, but as their sovereign, rescued by them from the hands of traitors and foes. The time had not even yet come for the York party openly to avow their purpose of deposing the king. So they conveyed him to London, and lodged him in the palace there, where he was surrounded with all the emblems and marks of royalty, but was still, nevertheless, closely confined.

Parliament summoned. The king.

The Duke of York then summoned a Parliament, acting in the king's name, of course, that is, requiring the king to sign the writs and other necessary documents. It was not until October that the Parliament met. During the interval the king was lodged in a country place not far from London, where every effort was made to enable him to pass his time agreeably, by giving him an opportunity to hunt, and to amuse and recreate himself with other out-door amusements. All the while, however, a strict watch was kept over him to prevent the possibility of his making his escape, or of the friends of the queen coming secretly to take him away.

As for the queen and the little prince, none knew what had become of them.

The duke's pretensions.

When Parliament met, a very extraordinary scene occurred in the House of Lords, in which the Duke of York was the principal actor, and which excited a great sensation. Up to this time he had put forward no actual claim to the throne in behalf of his branch of the family, but in all the hostilities in which he had been engaged against the king's troops, his object had been, as he had always said, not to oppose the king, but only to save him, by separating him from the evil influences which surrounded him. But he was now beginning to be somewhat more bold.

The duke comes to Parliament.

Accordingly, when Parliament met, he came into London at the head of a body-guard of five hundred horsemen, and with the sword of state borne before him, as if he were the greatest personage in the realm. He rode directly to Westminster, and, halting his men with great parade before the doors of the hall where the House of Lords was assembled, he went in.

Scene in the House of Lords.

He advanced directly through the hall to the raised dais at the end on which the throne was placed. He ascended the steps, and walked to the throne, the whole assembly looking on in solemn awe, to see what he was going to do. Some expected that he was going to take his seat upon the throne, and thus at once assume the position that he was the true and rightful sovereign of England. He, however, did not do so. He stood by the throne a few minutes, with his hand upon the crimson cloth which covered it, as if hesitating whether to take his seat or not, or perhaps waiting for some intimation from his partisans that he was expected to do so. But for several minutes no one spoke a word. At length the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was in some respects the most exalted personage in the House of Lords, asked him if he would be pleased to go and visit the king, who was at that time in an adjoining apartment. He replied in a haughty tone,

"I know no one in this realm whose duty it is not rather to visit me than to expect me to visit him."

His haughty demeanor.

He then turned and walked proudly out of the house.

Henry's reasoning.

Although he thus refrained from actually seating himself upon the throne, it was evident that the time was rapidly drawing near when he would openly assert his claim to it, and some of the peers, thinking perhaps that Henry could be induced peaceably to yield, consulted him upon the subject, asking him which he thought had the best title to the crown, himself or the Duke of York.

To this question Henry replied,

"My father was king; his father was king. I have myself worn the crown for forty years, from my cradle. You have all sworn fealty to me as your sovereign, and your fathers did the same to my father and to my grandfather. How, then, can any one dispute my claim?"

Contesting claims.

What Henry said was true. The crown had been in his branch of the royal line for three generations, and for more than half a century, during all which time the whole nation had acquiesced in their rule. The claim of the Duke of York ran back to a period anterior to all this, but he maintained that it was legitimate and valid, notwithstanding.

Decision of the question.

There followed a series of deliberations and negotiations, the result of which was a decision on the part of Parliament that the Duke of York and his successors were really entitled to the crown, but that, by way of compromise, it was not to be in form transferred to them until after the death of Henry. So long as he should continue to live, he was to be nominally king, but the Duke of York was to govern as regent, and, at Henry's death, the crown was to descend to him.

The duke was satisfied with this arrangement, and the first thing to be done, in order to secure its being well carried out, was to get the little prince, as well as Henry, the king, into his possession; for he well knew that, even if he were to dispose of the old king, and establish himself in possession of the throne, he could have no peace or quietness in the possession of it so long as the little prince, with his mother, was at large.

The queen commanded to return.

So he found means to induce the king to sign a mandate commanding the queen to come to London and bring the prince with her. This mandate she was required to obey immediately, under penalty, in case of disobedience, of being held guilty of treason.

Officers were immediately dispatched in all directions to search for the queen, in order to serve this mandate upon her, but she was nowhere to be found.

CHAPTER XVI.

Margaret Triumphant

Sudden reverses.

There followed after this time a series of very rapid and sudden reverses, by which first one party and then the other became alternately the victors and the vanquished, through changes of fortune of the most extraordinary character.

At the end of the battle described in the last chapter, Margaret found herself, with the little prince, a helpless fugitive. There were only eight persons to accompany her in her flight, and so defenseless were they, and such was the wild and lawless condition of the country, that it was said her party was stopped while on their way to Wales, and the queen was robbed of all her jewels and other valuables. Both she and the prince would very probably, too, have been made prisoners and sent to London, had it not been that, while the marauders were busy with their plunder, she contrived to make her escape.

Retreat to Scotland. The queen re-enters England. Success.

She remained a very short time in Wales, and then proceeded by sea to Scotland, where her party, and she herself personally, had powerful friends. By the aid of these friends, and through the influence of the indomitable spirit and resolution which she displayed, she was soon supplied with a new force. At the head of this force she crossed the frontier into England. The people seemed every where to pity her misfortunes, and they were so struck with the energy and courage she displayed in struggling against them, and in braving the dreadful dangers which surrounded her in defense of the rights of her husband and child, that they flocked to her standard from all quarters, and thus in eight days from the time that the mandate was issued from London commanding her to surrender herself a prisoner, she appeared in the vicinity of the city of York, the largest and strongest city in all the north of England, at the head of an overwhelming force.

Movement of the duke.

The Duke of York was astounded when this intelligence reached him in London. There was not a moment to be lost. He immediately set out with all the troops which he could command, and marched to the northward to meet the queen. At the same time, he sent orders to the other leaders of his party, in different parts of England, to move to the northward as rapidly as possible, and join him there.

Battle of Wakefield. Death of the Duke of York.

The duke himself arrived first in the vicinity of the queen's army, but he thought he was not strong enough to attack her, and he accordingly concluded to wait until his re-enforcements should come up. The queen advanced with a much superior force to meet him. The two armies came together near the town of Wakefield, and here, after some delay, during which the queen continually challenged the duke to come out from his walls and fortifications to meet her, and defied and derided him with many taunts and reproaches, a great battle was finally fought. Margaret's troops were victorious. Two thousand out of five thousand of the duke's troops were left dead upon the field, and the duke himself was slain!

Margaret's heart was filled with the wildest exultation and joy when she heard that her inveterate and hated foe at last was dead. She could scarcely restrain her excitement. One of the nobles of her party, Lord Clifford, whose father had been killed in a previous battle under circumstances of great atrocity, cut off the duke's head from his body, and carried it to Margaret on the end of a pike. She was for a moment horror-stricken at the ghastly spectacle, and turned her face away; but she finally ordered the head to be set up upon a pole on the walls of York, in view of all beholders.

Murder of his son.

A young son of the duke's, the Earl of Rutland, who was then about twelve years old, was also killed, or rather massacred, on the field of battle, after the fight was over, as he was endeavoring to make his escape, under the care of his tutor, to a castle near, where he would have been safe. This was the castle of Sandal. It was a very strong place, and was in the possession of the Duke of York's party. The poor boy was cut down mercilessly by the same Lord Clifford who has already been spoken of, notwithstanding all that his tutor could do to save him.

Margaret's cruelties. Her exultation.

Other most atrocious murders were committed at the close of this battle. The Earl of Salisbury was beheaded, and his head was set up upon a pike on the walls of York, by the side of the duke's. Margaret was almost beside herself at the results of this victory. Her armies triumphant, the great leader of the party of her enemies, the man who had been for years her dread and torment, slain, and all his chief confederates either killed or taken prisoners, and nothing now apparently in the way to prevent her marching in triumph to London, liberating her husband from his thraldom, and taking complete and undisputed possession of the supreme power, there seemed, so far as the prospect now before her was concerned, to be nothing more to desire.

Murder of Richard's Child.

CHAPTER XVII.

Margaret an Exile

A new reverse.

Bright as were the hopes and prospects of Margaret after the battle of Wakefield, a few short months were sufficient to involve her cause again in the deepest darkness and gloom. The battle of Wakefield, and the death of the Duke of York, took place near the last of December, in 1460. In March, three months later, Margaret was an exile from England, outlawed by the supreme power of the realm, and placed under such a ban that it was forbidden to all the people of England to have any communication with her.