IVATE HlSi'ORi im ( ) r 'j'iiE coi^irr .(".«»# i: ' GLM/ l) LONDON: ^ :^,, !> ] Oil TTIC A f. ! '1 JR^ i» M)Li> nv 15. ruusr;v and co. j ;» ': *V ' 'i*"^'* :'fij*'?f', ■?''f:*'ii' .^i'^tTV ■ ' " 'I'l;, ■•'h' jijir 4^ L I B R.AR.Y OF THL UNIVERSITY or ILLINOIS 823 G826p v.l PRIVATE HISTORY OF THE COURT OF ENGLAND, VOL. I. THE PRIVATE HISTORY OF THE COURT OF ENGLAND. IN TWO VOLUMES, VOL. I. AINSI VA LE MONDE. LONDON: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, AND SOI.') BY B. CROSBY Sf Co. STxiTIONERS' COURT, LUDGATE- STREET. 1808. [J. G. Barnard, Printer, Snow-HilLJ PREFACE. Those, who, in the perusal of History, are fond of tracing the characters of mankind, and their close similarity, in every age, will, I it is hoped, be gratified, as they « 108 Willing at ohce to prove The certain joys that are in virtuous love. PRIOR. most dear! O man! the wretched sport of j^assion, this true felicity, that you seek witb so much ardour, you have within yourself while you si>cpfice it to a chimera. Be more bounded in 5'our wishes of happiness, and yqu will, in eifecf, obtain it. Enjoy what is within your grasp, what nature grants you, and desire will be satisfied. If it were possible that the idiws con\d forbid a man having only one virtuous wife, order would be re-established; then our wi.shes, our attentions would concentrate in her alone; and mistresses, in their turn, w<:>uld have only our contempt. CONTENTS. XXI PAGE CHAP. X. English Rebellion and French Policy .. 121 The king is a tower of strength, Which they upon the adverse faction want. Their faults lie open to the laws ^ let them. Not us, correct. Shakespeari^ CHAP. XL Excursions to France ««---. 135 Now I would pray our monsieurs. To think an English courtier may be wise. And never see the Louvre. SHAKESPEARE. CHAP. xn. A short Peace with a treacherous Enemy - _ 156 Every man's conscience is a thousand swords, To fight against a blood-staia'd homicide. SHAKESPEARE. XXll CONTENTS. PAGg CHAP. XIII. A Cessation to the earthly Sorroiv of an Unfor- tunate , ...-,- l66 On some fon'3 breast the parting soul relies; Some pious drops the changing -tate req lires; E'en from the tomb the voice of nature ones; E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. gray's elect. CHAP. XIV. A Triumph ,^., 178 Then will I raise aloft the milk white rose*. With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd, C.'lAKESl'EABB. CHAP. XV. The sad Chance of War ... ipi I've touch'd the highest point, And from that full meridian of my glory I shall fall , - Like a bright exhalation in the evening. And no man see n^e more ! SHAKESPEARE. * Device of the House of York. CONTENTS. XXIU PAGE CHAP. XVI. British Ladies of former Days - * 203 These are stars indeed ; ^nd sometimes /a//i/?g ones. SHAKESPEARE. CHAP. xvn. Disappointed Ambition - 216 What will become of me now, wretched lady ! ShipwTeck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity. No friends, no hope j no kindred weep fot me J Almost no grave ailow'd me. Like the lily. That once was mistress of the field, I'll hang The head, and perish ! SHAKESPEARE. CHAP. XVIII. A Change of Ministry 22r 1 have watched the night, Ay, night by night in studying good for England. It grieves many; The gentleman islearn'd, a most rare speaker; To nature none more bound. SHAKESPEARE, XXIV CONTENTS. PAG( CHAP. XIX. Power superior to Justice 24-1 Can you think, lords, That any Englishman dare give counsel Against his highness's pleasure. Though he be grown so desperate to be honest ? SHAKESPEABE. CHAP. XX. A Character - 25^ From his cradle he was a scholar, And a ripe and good one ; Exceeding wise, fair spoken and persuading; Lofty and sour to them whom lov'd him not But to those men that sought him, Sweet as summer. SHAKESPEARE, CHAP. XXL A Mystery --- 266 She mQYes a goddess, aad she looks a queen. pope's homer. PRIVATE HISTORY OF THE COURT OF ENGLAND. CHAP. I. AX HEIR APPARENT. Men's evil manners live in brass; Their virtues we write in water. SHAKESPEARE. JlN treating of ages long gone by, the pen, uhile it endeavours to be faithful to truth, should be ever impartial. The historic page is too frequently clouded with error; and though some facts are conspicuous to conviction, by agreeing authors, or well preserved manuscripts, all the events we read of are not to be too implicitly credited. It is not the iu- VOL. I. B ^ PRIVATE HISTORY OF An Heir Apparent. tention of the writer of the present essay to speak of the transactions of the house of York, after it became secure by its union with that of Lancaster, in enjoying that repose from scenes of slaughter which had so long desolated the king- dom ; but to give a sketch of the private life of Edward the IV. and his court, be- fore the death of Henry the VI. till whose demise he could certainly not be said to enjoy the crown in perfect securit}^, though there is every reason to style him The Heir Apparent to the throne of England. His right to that throne, and the legality of his descent, have been so well treated of by various writers of veracity, that it is unnecessary to weary the reader with genealogical discussions : but this history commences at that period of Edward's youth, when the dreadful contentions be- tween the two houses depopulated the THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 3 An Heir Apparent. country, and bereft her of many of her bravest defenders. A noble author has said, that " Ed- ward's good qualities were courage and beauty, his bad qualities, every vice." This expression is too strong ; for though vice certainly predominated in his cha- racter, he yet gave evident and frequent proofs of the goodness of his heart : But, misled by evil counsellors during his minority, he plunged into every species of dissipation; amongst which, inebriety, that disgusting vice, unhappily took the lead, and promised, long before his coming to the crown, to undermine that beauty, for which he was so particularly famed. By his precepts and example, he set at nought the principles of purity, and laughed at conjugal fidelity. His superb and elegant mansions were the scenes of riot and ex- cess ; and it is a maxim ever held by the ^L PRIVATE HISTORY OF An Heir Apparent. wise, in all ages, that, when the morals of the prince are corrupt, the nobles and ple- beians generally follow the same fatal pro- pensities, and thus the nation gradually sinks into effeminacy and consequent de- cay. In vain are exhortations from the pulpit ; in vain may arts and learning im- prove ; the pillars of the state are under- mined, and ruin threatens to ensue. Thus, while the nation was revelling in excess, the heirs of Lancaster prevailed, and harrassed the people with all the suffer- ings of a cruel and disastrous contest. A noble ardour seemed kindling, amidst all his depravity, in the breast of Edward, worthy of the hero and the prince ; cool and determined, he wished to appear at the head of his whole army, knd confront the enemy. This noble emulation was, however, checked in its spring, by his brother the Duke of Gloucester; whQ, THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 5 An Heir Apparent. fearful of losing that military fame he had already acquired, and which gave him the command of the army, or from what other motive is unknown, kept back the talents of the young prince ('till he de- termined to throw off the yoke of submis- sion), and gave him only the command of a chosen set of warriors, youthful and prone to pleasure as himself The dis- cipline of these few troops left Edward sufficient time to pursue those gratifica- tions, on which he set the highest value, and which he followed with ardent avidity ; and, rioting in the midst of dissipation, his pernicious parasites smoothed instead of stopping the career of vice. Edward, roving from one frail fair to another, had, as yet, felt no fixed attachment. In the just expanded blossom of youth, " the expectancy and rose of the fair state," the heir of England's throne was immer b3 6 PRIVATE HISTORY OF An Heir Apparent. sed in that sensuality, which threatened the oblivion of every princely and manly acquisition that he once appeared in possession of, and which prognosticated the most auspicious omens to the partizans of the house of York, who looked forward with prophetic pleasure to his future exaltation. But while his fine person, his high accomplishments, and the splen- did situation he filled, gained him every outward homage from his subjects, and all combined to captivate yielding beauty ; the professed libertines of either sex used every endeavour and alluring art, to de- grade the prince to a level with the meanest of his subjects, and to vitiate his morals as a man, THE COURT OF ENGLAND. A tender Attachment. CHAP. II. jL tender attach 31 ent. She seemM Fairer than fam'd of old, or fabled damsels Met in forest wide by errant knights. MILTON. THE fascinatinof charms of ]\faria de Rosenvault seemed destined, by the powerful hand of fate, to snatch the prince, for a short period, from the slothful rust of apathetic gallantry; a failing, dictated by fashion, matured by vice, and which can afford only satiety, and give a precarious satisfaction in w hich the heart has no share; never leaving those soul-satisfying remembrances, which PRIVATE HISTORY OF A tender Attachment. may be dwelt on with real delight in ab- sence, by the mere contemplation of an object that we sincerely love. After a splendid tournament, in honour of the mother of Edward, a pageant was represented in the evening, in ^vhich the gay youth of both sexes supported the various characters of different nations, according to the costume in which they were habited. They were dressed as at a masque, but without wearing visors, and the evening concluded with a ball, similar to the present fancy balls of Ireland; where the ladies appear in different characters, while the native beauty of the fair Hibernian is not clouded or dis- figured by a mask. The prince had often seen Maria in the suite of his mother. He had noticed her in the public walks, and had beheld her w ith a regard, almost bordering on veneration. He made in^ THE COURT OF ENGLAND. A tender Attachment. quiries into her situation in life. He found she was married, her husband worthless, and her beauty almost her only portion. He as yet respected her sad situation, and thought as little of bribing her affections, by pecuniary benefits, as those of the richest countess at court : but, beholding her performing in the pageant, her re- splendent beauty was so heightened, by a dress peculiarly calculated to display her person to advantage, that the remains of every virtuous principle and every good resolution were destroyed which had been kindled in his breast, when Maria was the object. Unaccustomed to control his passions, and resolved on their indulgence, as they became the inmates of their earthly mansion, he determined on pos- sessing the object of his affections, at any price. Maria de Rosenvault was the love-inspiring object of man's adoration ; 10 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A tender Attachment. either when seated at home in the garb of neat and tasteful simplicity, in the walk- ing, the equestrian, or court costume, she was equally charming; and that, to her, fatal evening! when attired in the habit of a Danish Princess, she gained universal admiration, and made the conquering Edward her willing cap- tive. Lenity to a female peculiarly unfortu- nate, prompts the mind to make some excuse for this part of Maria s conduct. Charity and pity must plead in extenuation of youth, assailed by manly beauty, grace, and power; when a husband, whose con- duct was of the blackest die, left beauty and elegance to pine almost in want, or, far worse, would expect her to live in vile dishonour, by bartering a person peculiar- ly, lovely, for wealth and splendor. With a heart of the softest and most affectionate THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 11 A tender Attachment. kind, and which he had totally alienated from himself; can it be wondered at, if the pleadings of Edward moved her mind in his favour, and prompted her in an in- auspicious moment to listen to his ad- dresses ? was it natural for her to behold, with indifference, a princely lover, en- dowed with every acquirement, the hand- somest man of his time, and whose faults the partial eyes of the nation saw only as the effervescence of youth, w hich time and reflection might correct? The whole kingdom seemed pleased to behold the impression which Alaria had made on his heart ; they hoped that, by attaching himself to one worthy object, the horde of rapacious mistresses and evil counsel- lors, by which he was continually sur- rounded, might disperse, and the prince become more worthy of that high situa- tion he was one day destined to fill. 12 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A tender Attachment. Maria performed the part allotted her •with a grace and dignity that added ho- nour to the appearance of a princess. She appeared as if formed for nothing lower than the character she had that night only assumed. The amorous prince made use of every seductive art and per- suasion ; and, from the partiality she could not prevent feeling for him, and from the threats and instigations of her unfeeling husband, she became the acknowledged, and for a time, the sole misstress of Ed- ward. But what urged her chiefly on to this fatal step was fond maternal love, which ever held supreme sway in her well cultivated, though youthful mind ; it was that pervaded all her actions ; that pure flame glowed bright in her heart, and almost stifled every other passion. She fondly foresaw in the extolled munificence of the noble Edw ard, a safe provision for THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 13 A tender Attachment. her child when she should be no more ; and, resolving to ensure such advantages for her, which might put it out of the power of her worthless father to bereave her of, she transgressed against convic- tion, and the love of the daughter tri- umphed over the virtuous principles that liad hitherto been so strictly cherished by the mother. Unhappily deceived and ill-fated victim, who bulkiest thine ex- pectations on the constancy and gratitude of man ! he, who left the wretched Jane Shore, without ensuriug h^r a provision to guard her from the extreme of penury in her age, who ungratefully deserted the noble Warwick to whom he owed his crown, will equally, with cruel negligence, leave thee also, " poor Maria!" but Jane Shore left a kind and indulgent hus band, and Warwick was morose and am- bitious. Maria's story was unparalleled ; VOL. I. c 14 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A tender Attachment. ■ f and oft-times her smiling face, in the midst of splendour, covered a depressed and almost broken heart: the sad, though envied, mistress of an illustrious prince. It is proper, however, to introduce her to the reader before that period, which plunged her into a sea of trouble, in em- barking on whose waves, she was not al- together inculpable; but which brought with it the wreck of all her earthly pro- spects of happiness, and which punish- ment, added to the poignant feelings of her lacerated heart, we trust, has made sufficient atonement for all her errors ; errors so ameliorated by the finest virtues of the soul, which she so eminently pos- sessed, that they scarce deserve the harsh name of crimes. Oh ! let the eye of purity, while it turns the averted glance from habitual contamination and abandon- ed vice, drop a tear over the frailties of THE COURT OF EXCxLAND. 15 A tender Attaciinient. an unfortunate sister, and often to concur- ring circumstances give that praise, which they may perhaps think due alone to their superior virtue. l6 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Victim to Gratitude. CHAP. III. A VICTIM TO GRATITUDE. Had some kind angel op'd the book And let me read my fate, my heart had burst V^ljen it beheld the ills, which one by one I hare endur'd. HOME. MARIA DENBIGH lost an indul- gent father in her state of early child- hood. He fell, while gallantly defending the interests of the house of York, and left a widow, almost portionless, with one daughter; whose bud of blossom promised to expand into the fairest flower of spring. So far from priding herself in the superior and increasing charms of her daughter, Mrs. Denbigh beheld them THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. 17 A Victim to Gratitude. with a solicitude, bordering on sorrow. She ahiiost wished that some accident, while it spared the form and life of ^laria, might destroy those charms of face, which were so uncommonly love- ly. The prince, arrived at manhood, had already, though in his early youth, evinced that proneness to gallantry, which made every virtuous mother tremble for a fair and unportioned daughter. Plis parasites saw and encouraged his inclina- tions, by every temptation they could throw in his way ; knowing that to flatter the darling vice of one high in power, would ensure them that favor, which the man of real integrity can never enjoy. His counsels are too bold to applaud guilt or cringe to splendor; but the minions employed about the person of the mis- guided Edward, gasping for places and pensions, infused their baneful poison c 3 18 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Victim to Gratitude. into his breast, and taught hini to ber lieve that the daughters of Britain were but too much honoured by his licentious addresses. When Maria had reached the age of fifteen, all a mother's feelings experienic- ed the most agonizing trial. The small pox, and seemingly of a very fatal kind,, attacked Maria. It threatened not only beauty, but life itself; while Mrs. Denbigh's-, circumstances were in so declining a state that, from the expence of this severe illness, her finances became, at length, almost totally exhausted. Scarce could she procure the necessaries of life, much less those comforts so requisite now, tO: the existence of her languishing daughter.,. All application to friends was in vain. Shcj was obliged to suffer in obscure retire- ment, as the pretensions of the house of Lancaster now prevailed; and it was THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. ]§ A Victim to Gratitude- known that her husband fell in sup- porting the claims of that of York. A young man of the name of de Rosen- vault had formerly resided near tiiem. A thousand .little delicate attentions had escaped him, unheeded by the innocent Maria, and accepted of, as of no dangerous tendency, by the mother; for his person was plain, his manners no way prepos- sessing, and his situation in life, like their own, indigent. This exterior covered a cold, designing and cowardly heart. Cautious and reserved, it could not be perceived on which side he leaned, or which party he most favoured; but it since occurred, when too late, to these then unsuspecting females, that, when the House of Lancaster became successful, the fortunes of de Rosen vault increased. Antoine De Rosenvault was of a no- ble Norman family; and verified the old £0 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Victim to Gratitude. Norman proverb, that every one born of Normandy, is a lawyer from his cradle. De Rosen vault did not belie his country. His plans were laid in the storehouse of his mind, long before he brought them to view. He undertook no action, till he had well weighed the profit which might accrue to him. He was skilled in all the learning of those rude times, and had made physic and surgery a part of his studies. Soon after the illness of Maria, he again became the neighbour of Mrs. Denbigh. His style of living was much altered. His dress, his domestic establish- ment, evinced a manifest change. Ease and comfort succeeded to rigid parsimony ; but he affected to weep over the fortunes of the house of York, and imputed the change of circumstances to the demise of a wealthy reation. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. i> {' A Victiui to Gratitude. One aftei-noon, an important crisis ill Maria's disorder appeared to be taking; place. Every trace of beauty fled. Slie lay in a trance-like state, not lovely, but even disfiguring death itself. De Rosenvault intreated to see her; and, as he approach- ed close to her, he perceived that, though her disorder was of the most virulent kind, it was not likely to leave any impression which might destroy her beauty, should she recover. He ordered her a nurse. He sent to Paris for a physician of the highest eminence, who had formerly attended Queen Margaret. He watched over Maria. He spared no expence till he found her in a perfect state of convale- scence. The mother adored him as the saviour of her child ; and Maria looked up to him with the grateful affection of a sister. De Rosenvault now declared himself the lover; and I\Irs. Denbigh, PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Victim to Gratitude. who looked on him with a mothers regard, rejoiced in the prospect of en- suring a protector for her daughter, who, since her recovery, was more attractive and lovely than before. Her heart glow- ed with gratitude. She felt that sense of his kindness towards her^ that she almost imagined she loved him ; and before she was seventeen, she became the wife of De Rosenvault. The first year of their marriage she sa\r herself the mother of a daughter, whose birth she bedewed ^ ith tears, and who was^ to her a perpetual source of tender anxiety; for before his daughter was born, the conduct of De Rosenvault v/as. much altered. Gloom and discontent pervaded his features. Dark concealed schemes seemed fluctuatincr in his mind. He would stand gazing on Maria, not with fondness, but with scrutinizing precision; THE COURT OF ENGLAND. ^3 A Victim to Gratitude. and sometimes the sentence of " yes, it will do well — " would escape him; then he would suddenly start at his imprudence^ affect to laugh, and to wonder himself at what he meant! The house of Lancaster now began to totter. A fortunate battle for the Yorkists was fought at Northampton, where Lord Grey de Ruthin, who com- manded Henry's van, deserted to the enemy. Henry was taken prisoner ; and the house of York triumphed in vic- tory. De Rosenvault then became a bank- rupt in fortune; and now resolved to build one on the beauty of his wife. One evening, after repeated proofs of un- manly insult and ill humour, he said to her, *' What do you imagine, Maria, could be my motive for marrying a girl like yourself, without either a crown or S4 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Victim to Gratitude. a shilling for your portion?" "I thought your union with m€ proceeded from sin- cere affection/' tepHed she, forcing a smile — . " You believe, it," said he, with a ghastly laugh; "you are mis* taken, then; know that I am a ruined man ! and that it is to you I look up for support." "Tome? oh! chearfully De Rosenvault, will I do any thing to save you and this our beloved child from ruin ; it is a dreadful word, it carries with it a terrific meaning; surely you ar« not serious." " I am," said he, with a glooHiy frown ; " repair to your cham- ber, lock the door within, and there you will find, an e.^planation to all I have said," The. obedient and unsuspecting Maria hastened to her apartment, having re- ceived a repetition of the order fiom her wretched husband ; and scarce had THE COURT OF ENGLAND. A Victim to Gratitude. she fastened the door, when from a closet rushed forth a nobleman of most licentious character, one of the partizans of the house of York, and who was possessed of scarce one good principle, except his unshaken loyalty to that cause. Famed for being the seducer of innumerable un^ happy females, shunned and feared by the virtuous, and from whose ardent gaze Maria had often turned, when ac- companied by her husband, she had met him in the different walks of the city and its suburbs. Fainting with terror, she sunk on a chair, and had scarce courage or strencrth left to ask him for what purpose he came there I '' I came," said he, with an insulting smile, " by the appointment of your impoverished hus- band! and I am also well assured, by your own consent : nay, it is confirmed by your so carefully locking the door. VOL. I. D ^'6 private: history or A Victim to Gratitude. Five hundred crowns, adored Mam, I am to pay for the possession of your matchless person : tremble not thus, nor shun me with that repelling look; is it too small a gratuity ? say, loveliest of women, what I shall offer ? " '^ Oh, my lord," said the wretched and almost fran- tic Maria, "let me, on my knees, in- treat your immediate departure : quit, I implore you, oh quit the pursuit of a devoted wretch like me ; and w hile this heart continues to beat, it will feel fo your generous forbearance, the warmest gratitude. That I must ever despise the basest of men, w^hom I have the misfortune to call my husband, is beyond a doubt, but I owe too much to myself and to the education I have received to sell my person to another. Oh, my lord ! prove yourself worthy of your noble race: let this heroic effort make sweet me- THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 27 A Victim to Gratitude. inory record, as she looks back on this hour, your conquest over yourself, and your Clemency and justice to an injured woman." Unused to such pleading; shocked at the pallid hue and deep de- spair which overspread her countenance ; the native honour of his ancestors shot across his soul. Pie raised the trembling- Maria, placed her in her chair, and, bending one knee to the ground, with-, awe and veneration, a& he would have- addressed an angel, he said, ^' Be all you wish ! remain in your spotless purity, sweet image of unsullied honour ! and oh ! may he who blights it never know the blessintr of a virtuous attachment ! " He^ then hastily unlocked the door, as if fear- ful of trusting himself, and proceeded to^ the guilty husband. '' By heaven, De Rosenvault," said he, " thy wife is aa angel!" '' Ay, is she not?" replied this- D 2 -PRIVATE HISTORY O^ A Victim to Gratitude. monster of depravity. " Yes, an angel of purity, unfit for a demon like thee — I find her immaculate, unaffectedly chaste." '^ Oh, my lord, you know not the art of woman," said De Rosenvault, trembling least he should lose the promised reward of infamy, " you should employ perse- verance." " Hold, De Rosenvault, say no more ; your wife said but little, but her looks, — the agonizing terror that pert vaded her angelic form, will ever be pre- sent to my imagination. As to w^omen, I know them but too well ; but my acquaint- ance with them, I am sorry to say, has been chiefly amongst the frail and licenti- ous. Here, instead of five hundred crowns, take a thousand, to preserve thy wife's conjugal fidelity, and sin no more against that emblem of virtue. Parewell — we have no more commerce with each other ; whenever we meet THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 29 A Victim to Gratitude. again, the first time thou slialt dare to address me, I will publish to the world what thou art — the pander to thy wife's dishonour,, and the inveterate foe of the house of York ! " De Rosenvault shuddered. He knew not that his party principles were so ill concealed. He- endeavoured to recal the indignant lord, but he was gone out of hearing, and he durst not think of ad- dressing him attain. The thousand crowns comforted his sordid mind, and he hasten- ed to his w ife's apartment. After a severe struggle with contending feelings, she had just found relief in a copious flood of tears. Seizing her hand, which shrunk from his touch, while he exultingly held up the ponderous bag of money, he cried out, " Well, you are a good girl, and have played your part to admira- tion." " But oh, De Rosenvault," said D 3 &d /PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Victim to Gratitude. ^he, " how vile is the part that you have acted ! is it come to this ? is it pos- sible that a being, endowed with reason, —a man ! — to whom we are taught to look up, as to a superior creature, can possess depravity that would disgrace a reptile? De Roscnvault, I intreat of you to give me my daughter, and let us separate; I can never look again with patience on the man who scruples not to obtain gifts at the expence of his wife's honour and reputation." " Chaste as Lucretia ! heroic as Portia ! " said the insulting De Rosen- vault. " A lucky thought had struck me, to ensure us a fortune through the means of your immaculate virtue, instead of enjoying wealth at the expence of it. But you are determined to make me angry with you; and now, madam, I will let you know that you are my property. THE COURT OF EXGLAKD. 51 A Victim to Gratitude. and that the laws of the land allow me to do what I please with my goods and chatties, of which my wife makes a part ; and if I chuse to sell you I can, and will." The depressed ISIaria shook with ter- ror. She \^ell knew the partial laws of her country in respect to her too often op- prest and enslaved sex ; and, turning to De Rosenvault she said, ^' I have de- clared to you, that nothing should I deem too arduous, no situation in life too mean, in endeavouring to procure the means of subsistence for us, provided it is not in- consistent for honour to perform, or virtue to approve. You once had my tenderest anxiety. You shared it equally with our adored offspring. That link is now for ever broken ; and the expanded wings of ma- ternal love now wish to close themselves over, and shelter the fate of, my unhappy 32 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Victim to Gratitude. child. For her I will do much. For her these hands will toil, though unused to labour; and even for you, — because you are her. fatjier!- — cordial affection I feel for you no longer." "Maria, hear me," said De Rosen- vault, with well feigned softness ; " your, virtue has gained me a friend. Lord Bonville, who is departed, never agaia to enter these doors, has left me the sum of a thousand crowns to relieve our wants, and preserve your chastity. Pardon this once, I beseech you, a man, who on the brink of ruin, knew not which w:ay to save himself and his beloved family, from famine. Tempted by Lord Bonville's liberal offers,^! forgot myself, my honour,, and all that was dear to me ; and oh!. had you known the agonies I endured when you quitted me this evening to as- cend your chamber, much as you sa^. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. SS A Victim to Gratitude. you hate me, you would, indeed, sincere- ly pity me." Maria, in the composition of whose temper sweetness bore the pre- dominance, extended her hand to her guilty husband. Encouraged by her con* descension, he pressed it to his lips, and, lau^hincf, said, " I have an excellent scheme, dear girl, in my head, by which in a short time we may acquire immense wealth, and this adventurous night has furnished me with the idea. Your person is peculiarly captivating : out of this thousand crowns five hundred shall be employed in its decoration, which I would wish to be of the most alluring kind, and which may display your fine shape to the utmost advantage." Maria trembled, and was about to interrupt him, — ^' Nay, hear me out," said he, '' I mean you, when thus decorated, to attend all the shews and public places of resort near the courtj 34 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Victim to Gratitude. where all our young and wealthy nobles appear m swarms : some few, ay many, no doubt, you will attract: I will take care to provide you with lovers and admirers, with an introduction to you, by means of a friend that I can trust — ." " To what new insults am I to be ex- posed ? " interrupted Maria. " Hear me," said' De Rosenvault, "my friend shali inform me of their being at my house ; I will instantly m.ake my appearance, and threaten them with exposure to the Dutchess of York and the Princes for their insolence and outrage ; to avoid which, they will be glad to come down, with a good sum of money, which, when. I find worth having, I will suffer myself to be prevailed on to accept."' " Oh I vile, dishonourable proceeding ! unheard, of treachery ! " said^Iaria, " never, never will I consent to such meanness«-and whj THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. '35 A Victim to Gratitude. should I frequent each pubhc walk and place of fashionable resort, decorated and adorned, when our indigence must soon become known? Attired with splendor at such gay scenes, in these licentious times, I shall appear to court dishonour," " Your father," said De Rosenvault, with a sneer, " fell in defence of the house of York; they now prevail, for how long Heaven knows! dress yourself with tasteful sim- plicity, and present yourself before Ed- ward's mother with a petition, informing 'her of our indigence, and request a sup- port for yourself and child. Name not me nor my family, but call yourself the daughter of Denbii^h, who died in defence of her family. The duchess is not curious ; and you may gain something for a future day, while this we h ive will support pre- sent exigencies." " It was ever the wish -of my beloved mother," said Maria, "that 36 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Victim to Gratitude. I should carefully absent myself from court ; she forewarned me of its dangers, and made me promise, as I expected her benediction, never to m,ake one in the train of royalty. A prophetic feeling, she would often say, seemed to prognosticate my ruined happiness, if ever I joined that festive and splendid circle, where vice, crowned with roses, and loaded with wealth, laughs at, and spurns from her presence, the humble garb of modest worth and virtue." " I have heard your fine speech with patience," said De Rosenvault, " and now I tell you, that as it was your be- loved mothers wish you should not go to court, it is your hated husband s orders that you do go, and present yourself be- fore the mother of Edward as I requested ; or otherwise attei>d to my favourite scheme which I mentioned before; for one or THE CORUT OF ENGLAND. $7 A Victim to Gratitude. Other you positively shall do." Fully determined against that, Maria chose to present the petition as the lesser evil, but said with firmness, " Under no equivocal title will I go, De Rosenvault ; as your wife, and under no other name, will I present myself." De Rosenvault paused awhile " I must tell you one thing," said lie, " as you are so tenacious of be- ing unequivocal, our name, for one or two generations, has been altered in the spelling ; the right name is Rosenwold ; therefore, if you are asked any questions, say we are of an ancient German family, which is really the case — and — and — • continued he, stammering, — " we settled some years back in Normandy, and, from some French nonsense or other, the name was changed to De Rosenvault — but pray say nothing about Normandy — and leave out the De — for it evinces our nobility, VOL. I. E 38 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Victim to Gratitude. it only makes us ridiculed ; besides, if you say your name, is De Rosenvault, you may be asked why we are not in posses- sion of the estates which gave us the title— they have been lost to me for many years — -but it may appear to the jealous Yorkists as if they had been confiscated, because w^e adhered to the Lancastrians." Though Maria had never harboured a suspicion that her husband w^as devoted to the rebel party, yet she plainly saw there was some mystery attached to his fate in life; what it was, was now of little avail to her. ^^^^hy, thought she, should I commit a man, for so trifling a matter? the spelling of the name is immaterial to me; would to heaven, only, that I had never borne it ! ' In a few days after she presented her petition under the nam.e of JMrs. Maria llosenwold ; the daughter of the gallant Denbigh. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 39 The Danjjtrs of a Court. CHAP. IV. TffE DAXGERS OF A COURT, Amidst the roses, fierce repentance rears Her snak^' crest. THOMSON'. AS the royal mother of Edward was passing to her apartment from her morn- ing's walk, a beautiful vision presented itself to her of a lovely young woman, kneeling, and presenting her a petition. The duchess graciously raised her up, and, taking her into a magnificent saloon, requested her to speak her wishes without restraint, as she should esteem herself truly happy, if the ability she possessed, afforded her the pleasure of being service? able to her. E 2 40 PRIVATE HISTORY OF The Dangers of a Court. Affluent ease, contrasted with distress, aids the cause of pleasure, and makes her appear more dangerously alluring. Maria, accustomed for many months to the coarse and unfeeling language of a churlish husband, felt her heart glow with satisfaction at the tender expressions and benevolent kindness of the mother of Ed- ward. A luxurious and magnihcent apartment, which seemed furnished with all the riches of different nations, where the most balsamic odours from exotic shrubs and flowers diffused their charms on the enraptured sense, while strains of soft music were heard floating on the air, from an open gallery erected in the gar- den; all these delights conspired to re- mind Maria of the very opposite appear- ance of her own ruinous home — a shatter- ed fortune ; an house, indebted only to her own taste, to make it appear in any THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. 41 The Dangers of a Court. t may sting thee. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 55 Mistaken Confidence. This was little expected by the Yorkists, and the nation still continued its round of expensive pleasures, though engaged in a Avar with France, and scarce secure from dissensions at home; while Edward was giving way to the vilifying vice of intoxi- cation, and sinking himself to contempt and ridicule, with Lovelace, his dar- ling associate ; a man of noble family, eminent abihties, but of the loosest morals, and most famed for the quantity of wine he could drink at a banquet. lie it vras, %vho drew the Duke of Clarence into the fatal snare, which he might be literally said to plunge in, to the day of liis death; for he V. ould so intoxicate this prince with liiahiiscy madeira, that he knew not, in those moments of madness, what he said or did ; and, in one of those periods of subverted reason, he signed his own death-warrant, l)V consentino- to head a S6 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Mistaken Confidence. ^ rebellion against his brother, though he loved him with the truest fraternal affec- tion, and had no recollection the next day of the dreadful transaction. Lovelace, however, who was a dis- grace, in some respects, to his noble family, stimulated Edward to drink to excess, and led him into every haunt of vice ; and he might, with truth, be said, by his ill example and precepts, at the time the princes were in their nonage, to have corrupted the morals of them all, and to have sown those seeds of vice in their minds, which promised no fruit of perfection in maturity. Indeed it seemed to be as much the delight of this thoughtless and inconsiderate man, to train the princes to eVery species of licentiousness, as a virtuous Spartan would feel in seeing his offspring bc^ come every thing great and good. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. .^'^ Mistaken Confidence. The cause of the house of York now felt a severe shock in the battle of Wake- tield, where near three thousand of them were slain ; but the Lancastrians again met with a defeat near Mortimer's Cross, which iNIargaret compensated by a victory over Warwick, in a battle at St. Albans, in which Lord Bonville perished. This victory was no great advantage to Queen Margaret ; for Warwick soon was in a condition to come against her with supe- rior force, and gained a complete con- quest over this unhappy princess and her little army. x\s the English vrere now at war with France, Louis, the eleventh of that name, who was of an intriguing and politic genius, took advantage of our dissensions at home, and gained over, by bribery and other stratagems, many of the Lancastrians to his party. Margaret was profuse in her 58 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Mistaken Confidence. promises to him, who fomented our vexa^ tions at home, and promised to give up Calais to him, if he would seat her on the throne of England. But he had laid his schemes to obtain it for himself, and unite it to that of France; and was en^ gaged in laying a plan to effect an inva- sion of England. Louis, howeyer, was in great dread of the undaunted valour of Lord Fauconberg; a hero, whose name was a terror to the French, both by sea and land ; brave as a lion, indefatigable in the cause he served, he performed those atchievements which would seem fabulous, if told as the prowess of ancient knights ; yet this undaunted warrior was possessed of every amiable, every christian, virtue in private life. While he and the Earl of Pembroke lived, Louis knew his designed invasion could never be put in |brce. Scarce could the most partial eye THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. 59 Mistaken Confidence. of friendship find which to admire most in these brave defenders of Britain, and of the house of York; their deeds, impa- rallelled in the annals of history, ancient or modern, their name was a terror to every foreign power, and was hailed with rapture by every Englishman. The English were happy in their admi- nistration. Lord Cobham, a great and intrepid statesman, has been aptly com- pared to a POLAR STAR, to guidc the English to wealth and happiness ; but Edward never appeared sufficiently grate- ful to hi?72, or attached to his cause, to whom he owed his throne and life; for rebellion was awed by him, faction shrunk from his presence, and no crowned head remained in Europe that did not owe its dignity to thd abilities and perseverance of Cobham. A law had passed in Edward's minority 60 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Mistaken Contidence. for the due election of members of parlia- ment in counties. By these means the feudal system fell, and every freeholder was admitted to give his vote. This brought many of the Lancastrian party into the house, and discovered those rebel sentiments in some that had not before dared to avow them. Lovelace set himself in opposition to the virtuous Cob- ham, who supported, with Ciceronean eloquence, the cause of his king and coun- try : and so infatuated was Edward with his false friend, that he headed, in a man- ner, an opposition against himself These two parties occasioned great disorders, and elections were become a matter of real importance in England. The parlia- ment began to assume i gr^at authority, for they had it in their power to enforce the obedience of the laws. Lovelace clamoured for an union between the THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 6l IVIistaken Confidence. houses of York and Lancaster, an impar- tial division of property, forming a kind of republic, ^vliich might make them both obliged to the people alone for their pos- sessions. This gained him popularity amongst the lower class of people, who are ever avei'se to the nobility, and he ob- tained the dignilied a-ppcllation of the MxiX OF llIK people's CHOICE. Yct, while he was defending the cause of re- bellion in the House of Commons one evening, he would the next repair to the prince, whom he affected to idolize, live at his table, and lead him at night to scenes of midnight festivity, to tennis courts on the following morning, and amongst the fair and frail city dames in the evening, who welcomed the inebriate prince with rapture; and though he knew not the next day where he had been, they were proud to boast, among their neigh- VOL. I. G 62! PRIVATE HISTORY OF — ~i. Mi staken Confidence. bours, that he had passed five minutes the preceding night in their houses. Poor Maria, whose mental qualifica- tions even rose superior to her youth or sex, had matured and improved them by sad experience ; and, in many leisure hours of melancholy seclusion, she stored her mind with wisdom's richest treasures. She beheld, with the keenest solicitude, the prince sinking beneath the character of a man, and she ventured to expostulate by letter to him on his faulty conduct, and the ill choice of his friends. She received a check for her presumption, as it w^as termed, and she determined to address him no more. Admonition was lost on him, though from those who bore him the tenderest regard. But self, more than self, her beloved daughter, gave her the most poignant anguish; her allowance was ill paid ; her creditors were clamorous and THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. 63 Mistaken Coufidence. injportunate; while daily, and hourly, such reports of Edward's conduct assailed her ears as made her form a resolution to quit him for ever; and endeavour, by the exercise of those talents she possessed, to procure a scanty but virtuous subsistence for herself and child. Her unfeeling hus- band now no more importuned her, with either his presence or his menaces. Her ready money was exhausted, many valu- able jewels gone, which he had extorted from her, and with which he departed for Normandy, insisting on a final separation between them ; and leaving her and her daiijghter to struggle with a worlds callous and cruel as hhnself. Such has some- times been the lot of the strictly chaste and irreproachable female, and there self applause may repay, in the midst of the bitterest sufferings, many an hour lent to anguish; but Avhen alluring vice draws G 2 64 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Mistaken Confidence. the strings of the heart that is formed to be the seat of virtue, when no resource remains within to soothe the reproacher, conscience — happiness flies affrighted, and melancholy, resignation, and repentance, only stretch forth their hands to support the forlorn ti'ansgressor. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 65 A crafty \\'idow. GHAP. VI. A CRAFTY WIDOW. Marry M-ith a king ! A batcheior ! a handsome stripling, too ! SHAKESPEARE. AS anecdote is the principal subject of tliis work, it is to be hoped that a triliing anachronism, to accompHsh that design, will be forgiven ; and if, in the course of this history, we may be sometimes obliged to refer back to some peculiar circum- stances, which happened in this eventful reign, criticism will not, we trust, assail us with severity. We are not writing a chronolo2;ical history of England; and though the mention of wars and politics G 3 66 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A crafty Widow. must, of course, be slightly touched upon, yet the domestic scenes of the court and nation form the chief plan of these volumes. The Earl of ^Varvvick, who was Ed- ward's real friend, now seeing the house of York hkeiy to reign in safety, was de- sirous to negociate an alliance, which might strengthen his kingdom, and pre- serve his throne, by the assistance of a foreign power. For this purpose he fixed his views on Bona of Savoy, a prin- cess then in the bloom of early youth, lovely in her person, matchless in \irtue, and possessed of every elegant acquire- ment. Edward evinced no aversion to this match, but shewed rather a more than ready acquiescence to it. What could be Ills motive for tliis duplicit}^ })os- terity lias yet to learn. A beautiful widov^' though some vears older than: THE COURT OF EXGLA^~D. 67 A crat'tv \\ iIaria De Kosenvault, v.ho was a professed disciple of ^Vicklitic's, and also alienating his affections from the virtuous Bona, so that she might, without any op- position on the part of the prince, becon:ie Queen of England. Skilled in the art of flattery, she made him believe that her regard for him was of the most pure and sisterly kind; that, charming as was his person, it was his mental endo\^-ments that alone had captivated her, and caused her to forget that decorum and dignity she owed to her sex, her family, and the vir- tuous principles in which she had been educated. Nothing, indeed, would satisfy PRIVATE HISTORY OF A crafty VVidow her but a marriage with her beloved prince ; and she covered her artful pro- ceedings by every plausible pretence of heroic virtue. Among much rhetoric which she employed on the important oc- casion, historians record the following sentence : — *' My liege, if I am too mean to be your wife, I think too highly of my- self to become your mistress." It is strange that historians, like some ill judgcjs of painting, look only on the lustre of false colouring which appears on the surface, and e:^amine not closely into the intrinsic worth of the piece. Actions, not words, are the proofs of superior vir- tue; and can Ave highly extol it in that woman who endeavoured to persuade the daughter of Edward to ' marry her own uncle, Richard the llld? Such a mind shews itself to be more actuated by ambi- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 71 A crut'ty Widow. tion in her resistance of Edward's illicit proposals, than guided by a love of un- sullied virtue. A marriage, without witnesses, humed over by an itinerant priest, w^as, however, the tie that bound this lad}^, who was then in her wane, to a young and accomplished j^rince. They well knew that no church- man of respectability would perform the ceremony, as both nobility and clergy re- joiced in the projected alliance v/ith the Princess of Savoy. And though Lady Elizabeth knew her marriage, from the vrant of witnesses, could not be bindinj?, vet she trusted to some propitious mo- ment, when, by her superior arts, she could blind the infatuated Edward so far as to consent to be publicly married to her. Amongst the good qualities of Edward was threat good nature to children : wliich PRIVATE IIISTOIiy OF A crafty Widow. was ever kept alive in his breast, because it was aided by a tender compassion for their helpless years. This compassion he particularly felt for orphans of nobility, v/ell brought up, but reduced to indi- gence. He knew they had to struggle \uth an unfeeling world, and, unused to labour, if royalty did not step forward to .relieve them, and restore them to" title and affluence, they must often perish ; for there was no way for them to gain even a temporary or scanty subsistence, in those .LirLes, by superior education. JMonaste- ries, which were patronized and supported by the Cardinal of AVinchester, Lady Elizabeth'js staunch friend, had engrossed chiefly the privileges of tuition; and of those religious houses the superiors were so venal, that, should indigent nobility wish to seek a refuge in a monastic life, as tliey could not bring p ;cuniary THE COURT OF ENGLAXD. 7S A crafty Widow. endowments, they would either be told that the members of tlie relig-ious order were complete; or, if they did admit them, they would be employed in the most ser- vile drudgery of that monastery, which might, perhaps, afford them a shelter. Scarce any one who sued to Edward for these unfortunate objects, so interest- ing on every account, could sue in vain. He beheld their intercessors with the re- gard he would a mediating angel, and could refuse nothing to them, in that mo- ment of benevolent tenderness. The plan, which had long floated in the brain of the Lady Elizabeth, was now firmly fixed; but as the house of Lancaster continued, at times, to give heavy shocks to that of York, she waited till Edward's power should become more secure, before she put her scheme in execution. VOL. I. H 74 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A valuable Friend, and an intriguing MistreKS. CHAP. VII. A VALUABLE FRIEND, AND AN INTRIGU- ING MISTRESS. Alas ! how should you govern any kingdom. That know not how to use ambassadors, Nor how to be contented with one wife? Well struck in years ; fair, and not jealous. SHAKESPEARE. WARWICK, in the mean time, was negociatirig, with rapid success, his em- bassy to the court of Savoy; and was soon enabled to return triumphant to his royal master, particularly happy to find that inclination, more than duty, was the motive which actuated the princess to lis- ten to the overtures of Edward. THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 75 A valuable Friend, and an intrig^uing ]Mistiess. Warwick, the idol of all ranks of peo- ple, was almost sure of succeeding in any mission he might be sent upon. To a majestic and elegant person he united those manners which he could adopt at pleasure, and which he chose, on this im- portant occasion, should be of the most fascinating politeness. He knev/ the art of appearing ^' all things to all men;" for, while his natural disposition bordered on the morose, he could, while at the court of Savoy, seem possessed of all those gay and volatile French manners, which, at that time, were so highly in vogue. He threw off his naturally repellent humour, and was the life of every party. He spoke several languages with precision, grace, and fluency ; which rendered him a desirable acquisition at the tables of the different foreign ambassadors, to whom, in return, he gave the most sumptuous H 2 76 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A valuable Friend, and an intriguing Mistress. entertainments; and which he was well enabled to support, by his great revenues, and the natural munificence of his heart. By grants from the crown, together with his own hereditary fortune, he was pos- sessed of eighty thousand a year. This he employed, as became a nobleman, in continual acts of beneficence and splen- did hospitality. We are assured, from respectable historians, that not less than thirty thousand persons lived daily at his board, in the different castles and manors which he possessed in England. Pecu- liar for his courage, spirit, and genero- sity, he was dear to all men, while the military adored him for his valour. To a fallen enemy he w^as the true British foe, ever renow^ned for shewing mercy to the vanquished. Respectful to a de- throned sovereign, whose imbecility and forlorn state he most sincerely pitied ; THE COURT OF ENGLAND. H A valuable Friend, and an intriguing ^Mistress. haughty and contemptuous in his beha- viour to the luxurious Edward, who, though he wished to behold on the En- glish throne, was guilty of a course of life that the noble-minded Warwick shrunk from in disgust. These good qualities were tarnished by an unbounded ambi- tion, which, though it never raised his ideas so high as the crown itself, yet he ever wished to be the chief favourite of the realm. His indefatigable ardour in the field, his stratagems in w^ar, and voluntary hard- ships, have been well treated of by his- toric writers. One anecdote we cannot forbear transcribing, as it marks so strongly the cool and undaunted deter- mination of an hero. The earl, after being defeated at Pom- fret, ordered his horse to be brought to him, which he stabbed before the whole H 3 78 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A valuable Friend, and an intriguing Mistress. army ; and swore, before he would desert his king, he w^ould share the fate of the meanest soldier. To shew the greater security, a proclamation was issued, giv- ing to every one Uberty to retire ; but, at the same time, threatening the severest punishment to those, who should discover any symptoms of cowardice in the ap- proaching battle. When so firm and able a support to the throne of Edward had succeeded in his embassy, for this foreign alliance, which would greatly aid the stability of that throne, the ungrateful conduct of the prince is sincerely to be deplored ; and the mind naturally perceives how dan- gerous and imprudent, not to give them an harsher term, were the steps which he took in binding himself to Lady Eliza- beth Grey. A moment's reflection might have shewn the thoughtless Edward, that THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 79 A valuable Friend, and an intriguing Mistress. such folly must inevitably annihilate every spark of loyalty and affection in the breast of Warwick ; and that he, who possessed such warlike and poHtical abiUties, was likely to become a dangerous foe in the hour of disgust, a disgust which w^as sure to take place in a mind so sensible, and so deeply injured. By a strange infatuation in a young and beautiful prince, Edward seemed pos- sessed of a kind of mania for the charms of elderly ladies. He had now formed a connection with Lady Conyers, a lady who expected every day to become a grandmother ; she w as, indeed, older than the mother of Edward ; and her youngest children were marriageable ; she had been extremely beautiful, and might yet be called so; ever given to coquetry, she did not give it up, but was still aiming at new conquests. 80 PRIVATE HISTORY OP A valuable Friend, and an intriguing Mistress. Her husband, Sir John Conyers, happy in his rural sports, or over his bottle, suf- fered his lady to act as she pleased. He never controlled her. At length she cap- tivated the amorous Edward, and was, for a time, his idol. And so lost was both the prince, and his venerable chere amie, to every sense of delicacy, that, we are credibly assured, he sent this lady to escort the Princess Bona to England, and actually passed the night in her company before the day on which she was destined to sail for Savoy, and bring away that in- jured lady from her father's court. He promised her also, on her return, to ap- point her a place in the household of his princess, when she should arrive in Eng- land. What must a nation look for amongst the manners and morals of a people, when those of their prince are so vitiated } A THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 81 A valuable Friend, and an intriguing Mistress. philosophic stranger, who travelled to ob- serve each different state and moral in- terior of a country, would be apt to ex- claim with our immortal poet, " Is this the guise, Is this the fashion in the court of England ?" In the mean time Lady Elizabeth was not idle in procuring those alliances amongst the nobility, which might gain her friends, and secure her accession to the throne. She made a confidant of the Duke of Buckingham, and informed him of her private marriage. This weak man, the tool of ambition, happy in any w^ay to ally himself to the house of York, made proposals of marriage to Lady Eliza- beth's sister. This was eagerly accepted, and hastily solemnized : and thus, through the duke's noble connections, she gained over a. valuable confederacy to her party. 82 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A valuable Friend, and an intriguing Mistress. The coldness of her disposition made her look on all the promiscuous gallantries of Edward with indifference. The only for- midable rival she dreaded was the Prin- cess of Savoy, whose youth, beauty, and virtue, aided by the powerful motives of Edward for so splendid an alliance, might, in time, entirely detach the prince from his present frivolous pursuits ; and make him, by the contemplation of the exalted conduct of the princess, become so in love with it, as to adopt a life of rectitude himself He was yet young; conse- quently yet prone to new impressions. But that want of foresight and pene- tration, for which Edward was remark- able, and which prevented him seeing how , dangeroUvS the offence that he had com- mitted against Warwick; how mad, and how momentarily impulsive his marriage was with Lady Elizabeth Grey ; rendered THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 83 A valuable Friend, and an intriguing Mistress. him also blind to that firm rock of happi- ness, which, fixed on the basis of the purest virtue, and an high regard to con- jugal fidelity, would have blessed his sum- mer days with delight, and afforded him the most gratifying and self-approving re- flections in the winter of age. 64 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Princely Recreations. CHAP. VIII. PRINCELY RECREATIONS. * Voila done, ees sirenes enchanteresses, sans lesquelle* il n'y a point de bonheur; pour quoi on se mine, on se des- honore, on sacrifie ce qu'on a de plus cher ! O horames ! tristes jouets de tos passions, ce vrai bien que vous cherchez avec tant d'ardeur, vous Tavez en vous, et vous le sacrifiez a des chimeres ! Voulez me ins etre heureux et vous le serez en effet. Jouissez de ce que vous possedez, de ce que la nature vous accorde, et vous n'aurez plus de desirs. S'il etoit possi- ble qu'une lois defendit les femmes legitimes, les choses r'enti'eroient dans I'ordre. Nous n'aurions des voeux, d'empressement que pour elles ; a leur tous les concubines n'essuyeroient que nos mepris. LE CHARPENTIER. PAGEANTS, at this period of time, formed the ruling diversion of the great. i * These, then, are the enchanting sirens, without whose society there can be no happiness ! for whose sake we ruin, we debase ourselves, and sacrifice all we should hold most dipar ! O man ! the wretched sport of passion, this true THE COURT OF ENGLAND, 85 Princely Recreations. An evening festival, in some respects, resembling our most gaudy theatrical re- presentations ; they were held chiefly at the court, and the houses of the nobles, and even the commoners and poor ple- beians, to ape the manners of their su- periors, had also their pageants exhibited. They became at length so frequent, that the actors were as numerous as the spectators; it therefore became custom- ary to hire some of the most beautiful women, who were not very tenacious of their characters, some fine men from the soldiery, and a few needy adventurers, felicity, that you seek with so much ardour, you have with- in yourself, while you sacrifice it to a cliiraera. Be more bouuiled in your wishes of happiness, and you will, in effect, obtain it. Enjoy what is within your grasp, what nature grants you, and desire will be satisfied. If it were possible that the laws could forbid a man having only one virtuous wife, order would be re-established j then our wishes, our attentions would concentrate in her alone j and mistresses^ in their turn, would have only our contempt. VOL. I. I 86' PRIVATE HISTORY OF Princely Recreations. and were too idle to work for it. Those, for a stipulated sum, performed the part allotted them ; if they danced and sung, they were a peculiar acquisition. At one of these public exhibitions, Edward was smitten with the person of a very lovely woman ; her voice was harmonious, and her every action accompanied with a grace peculiar to herself The prince, though then in a state of inebriety, which was visible to the whole audience, was quite enchanted with her; and, quitting Lady Elizabeth Grey, near whom he was seated, he said, " Don't be jealous, Bess, but I must go to Lord Stanley, and en- quire something about that lovely girl." He soon returned to his seat. " By holy Mary," said he, " I must have her; she is a woman after my own heart, for she sings like an angel, and, what is better, I hear she can take a stoop of wine, with THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 87 Princely Recreations. any hard drinking lord in England ; Lovelace and I will have a toping bout with her." '' Charming accomplish- ments ! " said Lady Elizabeth, laughing, but without any apparent pique. " By the holy rood, you are too sober, Bess," said the prince, " I must divert myself a little, with this good fellow of a grisetteJ' '' A grisette! my liege," said Lord Hastings, who was standing behind the Lady Elizabeth, " though you see her performing in this pageant, she is married to a young man of great expectations." '' Better still," interrupt- ed the prince, " you know Hastings, I have a great predilection for married w^omen ; but I beg your pardon for in- terrupting you, — I see you blush, — and I know why — you are thinking on Jane. Come, tell us who this enchantress is married to ? " " He is the nephew of, I 2 B8 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Princely Recreations. and sole heir to, the old Bishop of Clonfert in Ireland ; he who is so immensely rich, that built the famous monastery of ^^ ^'Oh! burn the monastery," said Edward; Lady Elizabeth devoutly crossed herself — " Come tell us, and let us have no long stories, — where is her husband now ? ^' The bishop, my liege," replied Lord Hastings, *' insisted on their immediate separation. Her husband began to dis- cover her propensity to drinking, and readily consented. But his reverend lordship was so scanty in his allowance to her, that it would scarce find the little tippler in wine and brandy, and she has embraced her present way of life for sup- port." '^ She shall not want support ; go to her, in my name, Hastings," said the prince, " and tell her to come and sup with me this evening." " To mor- row, my liege, is the eve of the cruci- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. SQ Princely Kecreations. fixion," said the confessor of Lady Eliza- beth, who was seated near them ; " and do you not commence your fast this even- ing?" Though Edward wished the old priest crucified himself, yet the overcast brow of Lady Elizabeth, who still held firm sway over him, caused him to desist from uttering the pious wish aloud. But, whispering Hastings, he ordered him to tell her, to breakfast with him, after mass was over, the next day after, and it is reported that this good Friday breakfast cost the prince five hundred pounds worth of jewels, which he presented to this new favourite that morning. The above circumstance, shews how relaxed were the religious principles of Edward. Holy Friday, even by protes- tants, is ever held sacred, and kept with awe and reverence ; and, in those papal times, it was entirely devoted to private I S 90 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Princely Recreations. meditation and religious abstinence, and that the most rigid. Hastings was the Lord Chamberlain, and possessed the king's unlimited confi- dence. Accomplished and elegant him- self, he could not but admire grace and dignity wherever hefound it. He admired the person of Lady Elizabeth Grey; he respected the fame she had acquired by her virtue, and thought the majesty of her deportment might confer honour on a crown ; but he lamented her bigotry, and that excessive influence she held over the prince. He wished to see him indis- solubly united to the princess of Savoy, and he judged no oflice too degrading, to detach his beloved master from so danger- ous an ascendant as Lady Elizabeth. O virtue! there are, then, certain cases, when, in contradiction to thyself, thou permittest one fault to prevent a greater. THE COURT OF ENGLAXD. 91 Princely Recreations. Mrs. Anne IMulcaster, the lady who had then captivated Edward, received the proposal with joy ; and hastened to inform the depraved companion she then lived protected by, of this most fortunate incident. He counselled the exorbitance of her demands on the prince's coffers, which became at lenf^th so excessive, that the keeper of his exchequer declared them almost exhausted. And indeed he was reduced to the necessity of applying to the nation to defray the debts he had con- tracted with his household, and with vari- ous tradespeople. This was a degrading a?ra in Edward's life. The prince be- came the companion of a vitiated set of beings, performers playing in, and walk- ing in, the procession of pageants, for hire : the most grovelling revels of stupid intoxication, with I\Irs. Ann iVIulcaster, clouded all his noble faculties, and sunk 92 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Princely Recreations. the prince into absolute contempt ; who " staging himself" continually to the pub- lic gaze with the lowest company, amongst cudgel players and bruisers, far inferior to the gladiators of ancient Rome, whom a Roman patrician would not be seen speaking to. But he who claimicd the English sceptre, would deign to call his companions and friends, those that even the kindred of these vao;rants were asham- ed to own. He soon lost, by this vilifying conduct, all that consequence due to his royal birth, and which his acquirements and fine person might challenge, had his station been ever so obscure, had he but shewn a proper respect to himself. The depravity of the times M^as so great, that it is not to be paralleled in any preceding reign. That attachment formed with those who were bound by an indissoluble tie to another, was pre- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 93 Princely Recreations. valent amongst all ranks of people ; and, palliated by the name of gallantry, or often called the effects of the finest sensi- bility, has been frequently practised by him, who has presented his plea in a court of law, against his wife, for the crime he perhaps has first taught her, " by giving her an evil lesson against herself," only that he might procure, by proclaiming his infamy to the world, those damages, which might enable him, in another place, to dishonour his friend. A system was established by a society of dissipated people of quality, called the NEW school; which opposed itself against all tlie rigid decorum practised by their ancestors. Some of the maxims were certainly such as tended much to improve, while they modernized the out- ward behaviour ; to throw off superstition, 94 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Pi-incely Recreations. and check its growth. And many old customs, which were truly ridiculous, began to be laid aside, by the sensible part of mankind. But these disciples of the NEAV SCHOOL, understood no medium in their continual innovations, and the growth of libertinism daily increased; while drooping morality appeared, as if never likely again to raise her head. Whoever did not conform to all the licentious tenets of this polite academy, were ridiculed with the appellation of the formal votaries of the old school ; and though some liberal minded people, who determined to think for themselves, had adopted that charming medium be- tween those manners and customs prac- tised in the reign of Edward the Confes- sor, or during the Norman conquest^ and the court of good King Stephen, and that of the Comus-like court of Edward, THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 95 Princely Recreations. yet they were rather regarded at a dis- tance, with a degree of pity, as good kind of people, labouring under the pre- judices of education, than thought suffi- ciently brilliant to shine in the circles of the great and gay. The prince led the people ; fashion, in those gothic times, held as universal sway, as at present. Dissipation pleased all ranks, though attired in the garb 0f disgust, and though led down the dance of pleasure by the staggering step and trembling hand of drunkenness. Fre- quently, in the period of stupid intoxi- cation, has the royal slave to his passions repaired to the dwelling of Mrs. Ann, and drove her depraved paramour from her chamber, which he has pitifully, though perhaps, not willingly, resigned to his superior in power. 96 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Princely Recreations. Dancing girls, and those who figured away at tournaments or in pageants, were now the reigning favourites of the age. The Duke of Clarence had also his pub- lic favourite ; he had ever evinced a great attachment to the pleasures of a domestic life; and, with his chere ainie, who also made one of the hired pageantry, he established a kind of matrimonial menage, and became the tender father of a numer- ous offspring. His mistress was prudent and tenacious of his honour, as a prince ; she judged it unworthy of those, who should support and be the standing pillars of the state, to fix their splendor on the ruin of the industrious mechanic, by contracting debts with them to support their extravagancies. Thus, though the mistress of an illustrious prince, she still continued to figure in her accustomed line of life. She had never, like Mrs. Ann TliT. COURT OF EyGI.AND. 97 Princely ReciraHons. Mulcaster, been taught, by a stolen mar- riacre of wealth and interest, to think her- self above it. Her heart was truly ma- ternal ; and she wished to gain every ac- quisition of fortune for daughters she had by a former protector, whom she deter- mined, if a mother's precepts could in- fluence, should never adopt her public means of support. Her good sense taught her to see how little is to be depended on, from the favour of the great. She, there- fore, determined to keep her talents in continual practice ; though it is said, that not the lady's desire, but that the prince- ly duke obliged her to continue the public exhibition of her person, for which he would alledge the following substantial reason — '" My dear Elinor, I loved you as a public performer ; your fascination will cease, as soon as you quit theit pro- fession," But we believe all this to be VOL. I. K 9B PRIVATE HISTOEY OF Princely Recreations. only an ill-natured satire against the duke. Certain it is, his Elinor had his glory more at heart than he could have him- self; and she has frequently been heard to say, " O let my protector be unlike his royal brother ! may his debts never be defrayed by a generous public, or his credit branded by the prophane tongue of a mercenary plebeian !" When this lady, who was called Mrs. Elinor Danjour, first captivated the Duke of Clarence, it was at a public kind of theatre, where she appeared to peculiar advantage. She could not be called beautiful, but there was something so peculiarly engaging and captivating in her whole exterior, that every heart seemed moved in her favour. She was neither graceful nor elegant in her appearance ; yet all she said or did seemed incapable of improvement. In a word she was pos- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 99 Princely Recreations. sessed, in an ample degree, of the true art of pleasing. Her vivacity never forsook her, not on the most trying occasions ; from her early youth, before she became the mistress of the Duke of Clarence, she had lived for some years with an eminent counsellor, a man of good family, and who love^ ]\Irs. Elinor with ardent affec- tion. She had borne him two or three children, was faithfully attached to him, and was very strenuous with him to re- ward her fidelity by an honourable mar- riage. This, he positively refused to do, from family reasons we are led to sup- pose ; in the mean time the duke made her very liberal proposals — an ample set- tlement, an elegant house for herself and children, and those of the counsellor to be treated as should be his own. She still remained faithful to her first protec- tor; again she urged him, with all the K 2 100 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Pihicely Recreations. persuasion she was mistress of, to marry her. This he as positively refused. She then told him of the duke's liberal offers. His resolution appeared to stagger. " Marry me," said she, " free me at once from such solicitations, by becoming a lawful protector, while I swear to you, that inviolate fidelity, which no tempta- tion shall ever be able to subvert." He declared to her, it was not in his power ; that he never while he lived would forsake her; and intreated her to rely on his honour. ''No, sir," said she, " I shall accept the offers of the duke ; if I must continue a left handed wife, it shall be to a prince, and not to a commoner." On this the counsellor urged intreaties, persuasions, and all the rtietoric he was master of, to dissuade her from leaving him; but finding it in vain, he behaved like a distracted man, and could scarce THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 101 Princely Recreations. set any bounds to his anger, when she took her final leave of him. Seeing him thus giving way to passion, she said to him, with great sangfroid, " And was you mad enough then, sir, to believe that what I have submitted to with you, I could not with another? what founda- tion have you for forming such an opinion? Is it your exalted merit? That is flatter- ing yourself too much. Be more just to yourself; and, be assured, had I been strictly virtuous, you never would have obtained possession of my person ; and, since I am not, be not astonished at my granting those favours to another I did not refuse to you." The Duke of Gloucester had also his mistress, a pretty little woman, but not quite so fortunate in the munificence of her lover as Mrs. Elinor Danjour; he kept her, in apparent splendor, more K 3 i02 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Princelv Recreations. from fashion than on any other account. Thus her house and carriage appeared elegant; but the cherished favourite knew not what it was to " fare sumptuously everyday;" though, to pursue the compa- rison, it may be said — " she was clothed in purple and fine linen." Her scanty suppers, and empty purse, became the jest of those youthful libertines, who wish- ed to pay homage to her for the sake of military preferment; but her influence was by no means great; and often has this unfortunate fair one been confined for debt, and obliged to sleep between the four walls of a prison, while her friends have sued to the duke for her liberation; and he has answered — " I cannot get her released tO-night — I can- not; — we are all poor now.-— Let her make herself easy. —Ill see what can be done for her to-morrow or next day." THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. 103 Princely Recreations. And yet this woman had many who looked on her with the eyes of envy, be- cause she was the acknowledged favourite of a royal duke. The Duke of Gloucester's vice was not women. He was more addicted to that degradation, into which his brother Ed- ^vard had lately sunk, that of drunken- ness. For, though he was w^arlike, and al- most every morning exercised his troops, and transacted the business of the army, he scarce ever retired to rest in a state of sobriety ; for midnight orgies of intoxica- tion, and high play at the tennis court, on those days he could spare from his mili- tary avocations, seemed his chief delight. Maddened by ill luck at the one, and his faculties all bewildered by the potency of the other, he has been, with difficulty, prevented from staking the fairest of his domains on his ducal and princely ho- 104 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Princely Recreations. nours ; while, with his brother Edward, at the time when the arms of York pre- vailed at the battle of Hexham, instead of rejoicing with moderation and elegance, like princes, they would attend the execu- tions of murderers, and the vilest male- factors. So true does a noble author write of Edward, — " That he would, on the same day, gallant a mistress, and in- spect an execution." But the new school of fashion con- tinued to initiate its votaries, and nothing outrh was wondered at. The blooming youth wedded superannuated deformity, for the sake of wealth. Young ladies of birth and fortune would sometimes escape from the parental roof, and marry the meannest of their vassals. Proud city knights would lead home a bride from the fish market ; and the learned, philo- sophic baronet, whose deep researches THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 105 Princelv Recreations. explored the antiquities of Rome and Naples, was captivated by the Grecian form of one, who had, from a menial ser- vant, become a lady of pleasure ; who, in an allegorical pageant, personated the goddess Hygeia, and at length became the idolized goddess of this knight of an- tiquity, who gave her the honourable and undisputed title of his lady, by making her his lawful wife. In this situation, amongst the wisest men of the age, she improved in dignity and learning. Lord Fauconberg was peculiarly charmed with her spirit and conversation; and that great hero, at his death, left her one of his castles in England, and other valuable possessions. Though some of these discordant matches might end happily, yet the re- flecting mind must see that the love of order is innovated ; that the tree of dig- 106 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Princely Recreations. nity must fade, when so improperly in- grafted; and equality is the pernicious fruit, which it must, in time, produce. Every one, however, saw^ with pleasure the marriage of Lord Fitzwalter, as they looked on it as the reward of superior vir- tue. His lordship had married one of the public performers before mentioned, and she was a proof that true nobility, which exists in the mind, is not derived from a train of illustrious ancestors. With a person remarkably elegant, with a fascination entirely her own, she remained spotless in the most dangerous walk in life for a female, and was singularly vir- tuous in an age the most corrupt. When raised by her noble lord to that dignity she so well deserved, though she never lifted herself up above her former friends, *he preserved that true respectability wiiich her station in life required. The THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 10/ Princely Recreations. coronet seemed to derive honour from her possession of it; and there was not one belonging to the court, even amongst the highest nobility, but what rejoiced in her exaltation. 108 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Returmation. CHAP. IX, A REFORMATION. Willing at once to prove Tlie certain joys that are in virtuous\o\e. PRIOR, THE fate of Queen IMargaret, after the battle of Hexham, is too singular not to be recorded. Flying, after her defeat, into a forest, where she endeavoured to conceal herself, she was beset, in the thick darkness of the evening, by robbers, who stripped her of some jewels she had about her, and which were very valuable, and treated her with great indignity. When the thieves were separating the booty, it raised a great quarrel between THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 109 A Reformation. them ; and, while their attention was thus engaged, she took the opportunity of escaping with her son into a thicker part of the forest, where she wandered about some time, exhausted with hunger, fatigue, terror, and affliction. In this wretched condition she saw a robber ap- proach, with a drawn sword. Seeing no possible means of an escape, she resolved to trust to his generosity, and, advancing towards him, she presented to him the prince, calling out to him — " Here, my friend, I commit to your care the safety of your king's son." The man, whose generous feelings were not entirely extinct by his vicious course of life, struck with this accident, felt charmed by the confidence the queen re- posed in him ; and vowed he would not only abstain from injuring her, but devote himself entirely to her service. By mean VOL. I. ' L 110 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Refoimation. of this man, she dwelt, for a time, con- cealed in the vicinity of the forest ; and he at last conducted her to the sea coast, whence she escaped to Flanders. In the mean time the successful Ed- ward was revelling in scenes of pleasure to an excess of satiety, that defeated his pursuits after felicity. Ill health, from frequent inebriation and midnight ban- quetings, brought reflection to the thoughtless mind of the dissipated prince ; and now Lady Elizabeth began to see her Weakening power in the way to be trium- phant. Ever mistress of herself, gentle and persuasive, she received his returning affection with that complacent sweetness, which rendered the personal charms she yet possessed more alluring ; and her merit was much heightened by a compa- rison with the disgusting fair one he be- gan to be completely weary of. She had THE COURT OF ENGLAND. Ill A Reformation. contrived to draw large sums from the prince; while her continual inebriation, when in his company, had produced in his mind the repelling of every inclination for tlie society of any other female, but her, Avhom he thought so mentally en- dowed as Lady Elizabeth. Had his pe- netration viewed only the qualifications of the mind with delight, he would have asain sought, in the charms of ]\Iaria de Rosenvault's conversation, for the most soothing balsam to a wounded spirit. — But inconstancy and man are synonimous terms ! — Lady Elizabeth was a newer ob- ject. Maria loved him with too much real tenderness, to call in the aid of that hypocritical exactitude which carefully watches it's time, can be all things to all humours, and unite pretended softness with outward dignity. Her allowance was ill paid, and, at best, so irregular, and by 112 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Reformation. such diminutive portions, that, at length, cast on the unpitying world, and almost friendless, with a beloved daughter to sup- port, whose refined and cultivated sense, and whose height of figure, made her ap- pear faster approaching to womanhood than she really was, induced her unfortu- nate mother to accept the protection of an officer of rank, who had served under, and been the intimate companion of, Edward, and the partaker of all his youthful pleasures. Little more of Maria remains to be said. Over every faulty part of her con- duct we w^ould wish to cast the veil of commiseration and excuse. From feel- ings the most acute, by ingratitude from those she had most loved 4nd most oblig- ed, her suiierings became keen and poig- nant; the sorrows of her heart were of the most corroding kind, and threatened THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 113 A Reformat ioiT a State of health, naturally delicate, and which was hastening rapidly to its de- cline. Warwick had now become the suc- cessful negociator for the marriage of Edward with Bona; to whom the thoudit- less prince was immediately betrothed, with every outward form that could make the marriage binding. The people saw, \vith delight, their prince emerging from vice ; and flattered themselves that, as now the house of York appeared to be in a state of permanent safety, their Edward, whom, in spite of all his faults and follies, they still loved, would unite all his en- deavours to maintain the validity of their sufFracres, and for ever quit the scenes of riot and dissipation, which had formerly enslaved him. Lady Elizabeth Grey, knowing no proof could be obtained of the legality of 114 PRIVATE lIISTORr OP A Reformation. the marriage that had been hastily per- formed between them, trembled at the prospect before her; for Edward, at first, appeared really sensible to the charms and accomplishments of his royal bride. LaJy Elizabeth saw herself disHked, both by the nobility and people ; her only sup- porters were a few Catholics of the most bigoted kind, and religion was by no means the fashion of the day: the xew school was composed chiefly of iiluminee, who heeded not so obsolete a principle. Thus, her power apparently gone, she resolved to make a virtue of necessity, and, by one noble effort, make amends for her past errors. Had her conduct been equally blam.eless with that one heroic action of her life, she w^ould have made all those, who were before her enemies, become her most ardent friends. She instantly quitted the prince. She TUr: tOLRT OF ENGLAND. llj A Keformation. gave orders, that he should never more be admitted to her presence ; and shel- tered herself, for some time, under the protection of the Duchess of Bucking- ham, her sister. Tlie faithful AVarwick beheld, with joy, his beloved master thus relieved from this fascin luting woman, and daily cor- rectinii his enormous conduct. The de- lighted subjects now congratulated each other, on seeing the mature man quitting the dissipations of the youth, and likely to become popular, more for his virtues than his conquests. In the midst of these pleasing pros- pects a strong force was yet raising se- cretly amongst the Lancastrians. The parliament was divided in their opinion. Lord Fitzhugh, who was much more the friend of the French than of either party, llQ PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Reformation. was supposed to carry on a secret cor- respondence with the enemy. Interest was the sole test of the French monarch's honour. Treaties or engage- ments with him were of no use*; no tie of honour could bind him; and he owed his sole success to all that deep cunning generally attendant on perfidy. Ambiti- ous, dark, and dangerous, the more his principles became known, the more alarm they excited amongst his enemies in foreign states, and his vassal nobility at home. He had heaped the paltry in- signia of honour on them ; but, in return, had made himself master of their best lands and possessions. It was the pride of Louis Xlth to display his inhumanity in battle. In a skirmish, after having killed several of the * See Mezerai's History of France. THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 117 A Reformation. Duke of Burgundy's people, the Burgun- dians requested a three days' truce to bury their dead. — " My care," said Louis, " is for the living. Leave us the care of burying your dead ; — no need of a truce for that." This is ever the boastinc? language of a triumphant coward. When he is a con- queror, that one success makes him fool hardy to dash on with perseverance ; if he succeeds again, he becomes indefatigable; and often, undeservedly, acquires the title of a brave and experienced general. IMaddened with success, and with the party of Lancastrians that had declared in hi5 favour, Louis determined on the inva- sion of England. The English, however, were well aware of his intentions, and sent Lord Fauconberg, with a chosen force, to guard the channel from the threatened danger. It proved in the end to be mere 118 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Reformation. gasconade, and the French were obliged to strengthen their army by every means, lest the English should make a descent on the continent ; and every man being called into the field, the Archbishop of Rouen was heard to say, that " Rouen would soon be left without a single priest to say mass." Philip de Commines, a man of the most profound learning, and transcendent abilities, whose writings yet remain as a testimony to his erudition, was the head that guided the councils of Louis. As a politician, he could only be equalled by the illustrious Cobham. Happy for Eu- rope had his heart, like Cobham's, sought the happiness and prosperity of nations, instead of gratifying the Ambition of an atrocious despot! To that bulwark of English safety, the sea, how much we must own ourselves THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 1 1^ A Reformation. ~~ indebted, for preserving us from those in- vaders, who would else continually infest this happy land. Philip de Commines was very desirous of Edward visiting the court of Louis. The answer that mo- narch made him, has been handed down to us by various historians. — •' Edward is a very handsome and amorous prince. Some lady of Paris may like him as well as he shall do her; and may invite him to visit us, not in a friendly manner. It is better that the sea be between us." In the mean time, fomented by French intrigue, the Lancastrians had formed themselves into a formidable party; ex- pecting to be joined by IVIargaret, with a force sufficiently strong to drive the house of York from the throne. This rebellion was, however, checked in its besjinning by the vigilance of the Lords Cobham and Warwick. 120 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Reformation. Edward appeared to be fully deter- mined on quitting his former follies. He was less seen in the company of his asso- ciate Lovelace. He ever loved War- wick; he knew how much he owed to his valour and fidelity; but now he ap- peared also sensible of the inestimable worth of Lord Cobham. He cordially welcomed him to his palace; thanked him for his loyalty in quelling the insur- gents, and for his diligence and activity in finding out their various meetings and corresponding societies; and his indefati- gable zeal in bringing so many ever to the cause of York. THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 121 English Rebellion, and French Policy. CHAP. X. ENGLISH REBELLION, AND FRENCH POLICY. The king's name is a tower of strength, Which Ihey upon the adverse faction want. Their faults lie open to the laws 5 let them, Not us, correct. SHAKESPEARE. BY the advice of this great statesman, Lord Cobham, the ruling party shewed the rebels all possible clemency, and were sparing in their executions. The ^ most regretted amongst the disaflx^cted party was the Earl of Worcester ; a learned and * See Hume's History of England. VOL. I. M 122 PRIVATE HISTORY OF English Rebellion, and French Policy. accomplished person, born in an age when the nobihty prided themselves in their ignorance, and left learning only to monks and schoolmasters. But his know- ledge did not produce, in this hot-headed young man, the effects which naturally attended it, — a prudent conduct, or a sof- tened heart; for he enraged his rulers against him, by fomenting acts of san- guinary cruelty. He had headed a party himself of those ruffians, who lawlessly used violence to whomsoever opposed them; but, being defeated, he fled, and con- cealed himself in obscurity. A party of officers were dispatched to seize his person. Pie defended himself vahantly till he fell, after killing two of the officers, and receiving himself several wounds, one of which proved severely fatal. He left a young and beautiful widow, THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 123 English Rebellion, and French Policy. whose history is eventful; and which serves to shew how much the females, in those days, espoused the cause of the dif- ferent parties, which then actuated the conduct of all ranks in the kingdom. Clarissa Dalentour was the cherished foundling of a foreign prince and princess of high rank. She was brought up with their family, and received a finished and polite education with the young princes. The lady, to whom was principally confided the care of Clarissa s tuition, instilled into her young and susceptible mind princi- ples of the most enthusiastic love for vir- tue, and a detestation for oppression and tyranny, under whatever guise they might shelter themselves. To a mind endued with the finest sensibility, those lessons were productive of some danger. So true is that idea, " that even virtue has its stated limits!" 124 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Engflish Rebellion, and French Policy. The young and beautiful Clarissa be- held the events of life with a precision unusual at her years ; and, while her own conduct approached to the purity and be- nevolence of an angelic being, she wept over the vices and misfortunes of others; w^hile every child of sorrow became dear to her. The distracted state of the country, to which she owed her birth, and the repre- hensible and active part, taken in thosp commotions, by the prince, her benefac- tor, obliged the princess and her family to take refuge in England. The house of York, at that time, were in possession of the throne, and afforded the royal fugi- tives a safe and honourable asylum. Ever alive to the disti^esses of others, Clarissa's heart felt deeply for the de- throned and unfortunate Henr}\ His party became dear to her ; and she com- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 1C5 Enet'.ish Rebellion, and French Policy. pared his mild and amiable virtue with the numerous faults of the luxurious and expensive Edward, whose conduct, with that of his brothers, gave her an utter dis- gust to the house of York. Her feelings were the result of an un- spotted conscience ; which, though it might sometimes deceive her, by its ap- proval of an erroneous opinion, never taught her to disguise the real sentiments of her soul, which she expressed with an energy fearless of power, thouiih with a sweetness and gentleness peculiar to her- self. In one of those moments of enthu- siasm for the cause which she imagined to be right, she sealed the impression which her beauty had before made on the heart of the Earl of Worcester. He was impatient to be united to a w^oman of such refined sense, and whose party principles so exactly accorded with M 3 126 PRIVATE HISTORY OF English Rebellion, and French Policy. his own. His fine person, the similarity of his sentiments, easily gained the affec- tion of Clarissa. Her royal friends re- joiced in seeing her so advantageously settled; and, for a while, truly blessed in each other, the happy pair forgot the contending parties in their own felicity. But the Lancastrians soon roused their leader from the peace of conjugal happi- ness ; and a formidable body of the rebels attacked the Yorkists, and defeated them at the battle of Wakefield. It will scarce be credited, that the effects of party rage should run so high, that she, the gentle and delicate Clarissa, renowned as much for the softness of her manners as for her heroic fortitude under misfortunes, should bind round her lovely and " chastened brow" a kerchief, dipped in the blood of the guiltless and lamented Earl of Rutland. THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. 12/ En>j^lish Rebellion, and French Policy. This serves to convince us how httle moderation is to be expected, even from the best of a rebel party, in the hour of triumph. Yet, ever firm to the cause she cherished, after tlie Lancastrians were defeated at Mortimer's Cross, Lady AVor- cester still protected, as far as she was able, the fallen relics of the house of Lan- caster, to the meanest of whose partizans she would rise and give place, a\ ith sin- cere and unaffected humility : but, even of the princes and princesses of the house of York, she would, '\\ith contemptuous dignity, take the precedency. Though it is impossible to prevent our admiration of this victim of enthusiastic principle, yet we naturally feel much more for her in the situation of a widowed and affectionate mother. At the premature and fatal death of her gallant husband, her grief knew no bounds. That keenness 128 PRIVATE HISTORY OF English Rebellion, and French Policy. Of feeling she possessed, made her only more exquisitely sensible of the irrepara- ble loss she had sustained. The mother of the Earl of Worcester soothed her sor- rows by every kind alleviation in her power; and ^\ith her, and in the bosom of that family who had acted towards her with true parental affection, the countess passed her widowhood in retirement, and in the cultivation of those rare and charn> ing talents she possessed. Lord Cobham soon after retiring from the high office he held in the m.inistry, the artful and politic De Commines was now very arduous, in his advice to the French monarch, to sue for a peace with England. It was De Commines, who might be said, by his profound genius, to govern France, and not a sovereign, who had little more than a military education, aided by a low and intriguing kind of natural cunning. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 129 Englisli Rebellion, and French Policy. But Louis dreaded the dissaffection of his people at home, whom he knew he had tyrannically oppressed, and also fear- ed a mutiny in his army, which he had not regularly paid. He \^as, therefore, at first, averse to following the advice of De Commines, hut at length gave way to the forcible reasons of this French Machiavel ; who endeavoured to prove to him, how^ much more sure he would be of conquering the pride of England, and, in the end, entirely subduing that king- dom at his pleasure, if he would, by making a peace with them, bring the rich and noble across the seas, tempt them to purchase estates, and, by residing at them, disseminate their wealth through the country, and enrich the gallic dominions. Knowing also, how the English had, of late, given themselves up to every species 130 PRIVATE HISTORY OF English Rebellion, and French Policy. of expensive and luxurious pleasure, in which only they were excelled, in a very small degree, in France, he trusted that, by a sojournment in that depraved country, he might still improve that love of volup- tuousness and public amusements, so as to dwindle the hardy English into effemi- nacy, and enervate them sufficiently to make them an easy conquest, whenever they should find their army sufficiently weakened by the slothful rust of peace. He then meant to urge Louis to make a pretext for declaring war against them, in the time when they should be the least prepared to repel his attacks. The English nation, fatigued with wars abroad and party dissei^sions at home, readily acquiesced with the French monarch's proposals ; and an hasty, md by no means honourable, peace for THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 131 English Rebellion, and French Policy. England, was patched up at Pequigny% near Amiens. But scarce was the peace concluded, when the intriguing and treacherous spirit of France, began to shew itself. Jack Cade, whose rebellious proceedings gave so much trouble in the early part of the reign of Henry VI. after the defeat of his rebellious party, had escaped into his na- tive country, Ireland, where he had a son born to him, who inherited all his father's levelling principles. He had, however, the advantage his parents wanted, a finish- ed and military education; and had at- tained, by his bravery, the rank of a colonel in the army. The smothered seeds of rebellion, which were sown in him from his childhood, at length burst forth. Dissatisfied with the * See Rapin, Smollett, and other». 132 PRIVATE HISTORY OF English Rebellion, and French Policy. government which protected him, and for which he had once fought, he determined on the destruction of the king and royal family; while he intended to establish, himself, a system of equality, like that once attempted by his father. He chose for his associates, a low class of men, chiefly collected from among the dregs of the soldiery, who had been whipped for misdemeanours, and were ready to embrace every desperate ad- venture. This weak and ambitious man, who headed these insurgents, was a fit tool for the French monarch. Jle promised him arms and m.oney to assist him in the execution of his diabolical scheme ; which was, to way-lay the king in his way from the tower, murder him, and then take possession of his palace, and make the rilK COL'RT OF ENGLAND. 13:3 English Rebellion, and French Policy. royal family their prisoners. Bat as there is no dependance on the friendship of the wicked, the confederates in this atrocious plot betrayed each other, on promise of pardon, and in hopes of a reward ; and Colonel Cade, with several of the ring;- leaders, were executed, as rebels to the king and state. This was a severe disappointment to France. Melancholy, an unusual feature in that nation, lowered over the counte- nances of Frenchmen for some time ; and they were so depressed, that they were unable to conceal their grief from the few Ennlish that were then at the court of France, but expressed strong indignation at the English severity in their execution of Cade. De Commines, however, was not totally discouraged. He offered great rewards and high preferments to a needy VOL. I. N 134 PRIVATE HISTORY OF English Rebellion, and French Policy. English officer to head the disaffected party in Ireland ; but this proposal was rejected with noble and honourable dis- dain. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 135* Excursions to France. CHAP. XI. EXCURSIONS TO FRANCE. Now I would pray our monsietirs, To think an English courtier may be wise, And never see the Louvre. SHAKESPEARE. THE French king's minister proved himself in the right, when he judged with how much eagerness the EngHsh would repair to that court, where gaiety and delight spread every snare, to delude the unwary Briton, and empty his purse, while they corrupt his mind. Thousands flocked to Paris, actuated by the love of pleasure, whim, novelty, or mistaken economy, N g 136 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Excursions to France. Amongst these, Lovelace was im- patient to pay his devoirs to a king and minister he had ever admired ; and also to present his female friend, now his law- ful wife, at a court by no means tena- cious of, or famed for the virtue of modesty, or a re<;jard to delicacy and decorum. The gallic beaux w^ere much surprised at the appearance of Mrs. Lovelace; of whose person they had formed the most advantageous ideas. Lovelace had, himself, a swarthy complexion, a black bushy beard, and, from an excess of living, appeared corpulent, and inclining to be dropsical ; but his picture had been so handed about in every nation, dressed in every character and costume that fancy could invent, but in which the likeness of the man of the people's CHOICE appeared so strong, that they THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 137 Excursions to France. were prepared for all they beheld in the original. But as Frenchmen look much to the surface, and especially among women, they were astonished to see his bride on the wrong side of fifty, coarse looking, bad complexioned, mark- ed with the small pox, and of a rotundity equal to a butt of strong English beer; not possessing one charm of person, ex^ cept an hand and arm that might serve as models for a statuary or painter to place on the body of a Venus. The beauties about the court of Louis, by no means set off the charms of this fat, old lady ; and the most celebrated for the charms of her person, was the wife of a rich financier ; and, to those dazzling at- tractions she possessed, together with the weight of her husband's coffers, ^\hich enabled him to lend sums to c^overnment, she owed her free accession to the court N 3 138 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Excuisi(»iis to Fiance. of the haughty and imperious Louis XI. This pretty lady would maliciously place herself at all public scenes of diversion, by the side of Mrs. Lovelace ; that she might serve her as a foil, and, with true French coquetry, inspire the gay young Frenchmen with ideas of saying smart things and uttering elegant phrases, of complimentary comparison, advantage- ous to herseltj but highly detrimental to the figure of the celebrated ^Irs. Love- lace. The French began to form a very poor idea of English beauty; for while the ladies who composed the court of Louis, were dressed with that studied voluptu- ousness, wdiich discovered every charm to advantage, the English ladies appeared in their large ruffs, close concealed attrac- tions, and full gowns. This gained them the appehation of '' English packets,'* THE COURT OF EXCLAXD. 139 ExciusKiiis to Eia'.ice. loaded with silk and muslin, of true british manufacture, never seen in France Before! But every one admired the Countess of Devonshire, Avho, though no longer young, it was easily perceived, had possessed, and still retained, in an eminent degree, that charming fascina- tion, so superior to correct beauty. The bo}ijfc x'ivaiite, the Countess of West- moreland, eagerly adopted every French fashion. She had been indefatigable in marrying her daughters to advantage ; two were wedded to dukes, one to a marquis, and the fourth to a wealtliy baronet. She was herself still a fine woman, and her em bon point had not the clumsiness of that of ]\Irs. Lovelace. She therefore bared her shoulders a la sauvage, like the gay and exquisitely formed w ife of the minister of the marine. She uncovered her round arms in imita- 140 PRIVATE HISTORY OF JExcursions to France. tion of all the white-armed gallic nymphs, ■\vho hovered round the court ; and from the coif, the 'kerchief, or beads, that con- fined her hair, she vvould draw out the straggling curls, and teach them to float on her cheek, like the luxuriant locks of the fair Jinanciere. Having long been celebrated for imbibing the juice of the '^ tuscan grape," she needed not the aid of French rouge to adorn her rosy coun- tenance. She paid indefatigable court to Louis ; and though her house, and those of all the noblemen, who had married her daughters, must stand on the basis of their loyalty to the cause of York, she was, nevertheless, a firin friend to the Lancastrian party, and of course to Queen Margaret, whom she told one evening, in a large assembly, that she hoped to see her, in the company of THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. !41 Excursions to France. Louis, eating their next christmas dinner in the palace of the tower of London ! France, was, at this time, crowded Axith English nobility; scarce a duke, earl, or marquis was left in England. The half gentry aped their superiors, and saved up a little money, sufficient to procure them an excursion to this land of fancied delights. After two or three months sojournment there, these came home, a discredit to the countrv they had visited, and the standing jest of their own. They pretended to forget the name of their own English coin, and could speak of nothing but sous, livres, and louis d'ors, to the astonishment of the tradesmen they were trafficking ^vith ; and smattered their outrh and misplaced French sentences in every company which they knew could not understand the lan- guage. The needy and wretched adyen*- 142 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Excursions to France. turer, who, through extravagance or con- stant indigence, had but a trifling or pre- carious income, hastily fled to France, ^^^hich he fondly imagined was the land of riches, or where he could procure food and raiment for a mere song. Wretched- ly deceived, he saw his folly too late ; and, obliged to remain in a foreign country, vhere he could be hardly said to exist, he was compelled to labour hard for a livelihood, or desert his lawful king, by joining in the plots of the worthless ruler of France, who was using all his endea^ vours to harass and distress this country. But even then the adventurer's golden prospects ended in a dream ; the wary Frenchman, afraid to trust him, and knowing his principles to be dictated more by necessity than a love for the cause of France, rewarded him with half confidence, and but very scanty emolu- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 143 Excursions to France. ments for his treachery; loving the *^ treason, but hating the traitor." The leading ladies in this gallic excur- sion, the Countesses of Devonshire and Westmoreland, were eager to repair home to display their acquirements in French fashions, and disseminate some novel system in the new school of elegance and reform. Before they quitted France, Lady West- moreland cordially shook Louis by the hand, thanked him for all the civilities he had shewn her, and repeated her wish of seeing him enter London, in triumph. But Lord Hastings, who heard her, with much warmth, reproved her for her want of loyalty to his master. " i\Iy good Lord Chamberlain," said the countess, ^' I know your office. Close at the ear of your royal master, you act the part of a tell-tale, and often rc2;ale him. with some 144 l>RrVATE HIStORY OF Exclusions to France. scandalous anecdote, at the expence of your friends. Tell him noAv, if you please, all I have said; I value neither your master nor you." The countess of Devonshire sensibly reproved heir for the acrimony of her ex- pressions to Lord Hastings, and hurried her away to the house of the rich financier's wife, to give her a pressing and cordial invitation to England; which this fair daughter of a dancing girl ; promised to do her the honour of accepting. We complain, in this our day, of the little distinction that is observed in the conduct of the high born and anciently titled nobility, with the nouvcau liche, who may chance to be the direct off- spring of the very lowest class. Alas ! " there is nothing new under the sun." Warwick was the last of those English barons, whose ancient rights of birth, J2 THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 145" Excursions to France. held even the crown in subjection. He stood alone in his high dignity, and the equalizing system was every day gaining ground. Equality owes its origin, more to licenti- ousness, than to humility. The king's once cherished favourite, Jane Shore, was countenanced by almost the whole of the nobility, because she was Edward's beautiful mistress, and because she had, at one time, unbounded influence over him; not on account of her being free from censure, except in that one faulty connexion, or of her being in every other respect, a woman of superior merit and excellence. No;— the new school had taught them, to look over the indiscre- iio7iSj as they gently termed them, of a married woman with a favoured lover. But had the deluded Jane not lived in splendor, the chosen sultana of a great VOL. r. o 146 PRIVATE HISTORY OF ■ ■ - ' ' — r- Excursions to France. and powerful prince, the high-born lady would have disdained to hold a minute's conversation with the humble wife ©f a goldsmith, had she been ever so feithful to virtue or to her marriage vows. Edward, just before he ratified his ei> gagements with the Princess of Savoy, when he was the fixed and sole admirer of Lady Elizabeth Grey, was determined to part with every mistress to whom he had been before devoted ; and the aficctionatc Jane Shore was destined to follow the num- ber of those, whom he had already cast off from his heart and protection. No female, risinsj from so obscure a situation, has, we believe, been more spoken of, by different - historians, than this unfortunate woman. Her story, in some respects, bears a similarity to that of Maria De Rosenvault ; like her, well educated, and like her, she possessed a THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. 147 Excxirsions to l"i-auce. mind formed, by nature, to be the throne ofvhtue. Born of poor, but respectable parents, she was married, early in life, to a wealthy citizen; where interest on the parents' side, more than inclination on the part of Jane, was consulted in the mar- riage. She had cherished in her youthful breast a dangerous passion, which look- ed to no lower object than the princely Edward ; and ^^'hen assailed by him, ^vith all that art and persuasion he was master of, she forgot her duty, and yielded to his solicitations. The other virtues, which, however, she still possessed, rendered her respectable, even in the eyes of the most rigidly virtuous. For all the .use she made of her ascendancy over Edward, Avas to promote in him acts of beneficence, to oppose slander, even when it attacked iaer greatest enemies, and to relieve in- 2 148 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Excursions to France. digence. These good offices were the generous dictates of her heart; nor would she accept a present, or listen to the offers of reciprocal services. The ingratitude of those who had long been protected by her, and feasted at her expence, forsook her in the hour of dis- tress, and when the sun of royal favour had ceased to shine upon her. Had the generous Hastings lived, she would never have known the want of a friend. His end is too well known to find a place in this history, as it also happened after the demise of Edward. He had been long the unknown admirer of Jane Shore, even before her connexion with Edward ; and, next to the prince, no man was more handsome, more elegant, or more capa^ ble, by the gallantry of his manners, and tenderness of his heart, to succeed with the fair, especially in 9, court famed for THE COURT OF TIXGLAXD. 149 Kxciirsions to France. gallantry, where every one had some •tender attachment. It has been often remarked that Lady JElizabeth Grey's pretended regard for Edward, was prompted chiefly by am- •bition. This may be well perceived, as she was entirely free from that anxiety, styled jealousy ; vrhiih is generally inseparable from true love, M'liich never can bear a -rival in its privileges. But Lady Eliza- h(yth lived on terms of the greatest in- .timacy with ]\lrs. Shore. Jane, it is true, like her .oowerful rival, was bii^oted to the catholic religion, and Edward often used to say, she was never out of church; to which sacred pJace, and to every pub- lic amusement, Hastings was her con- stant shadow, when his duties, as Lord Chamberlain, permitted him those leisure moments. He toUowed her footsteps with xdelight, and lived upon her smiles. o 3 150 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Excursions to France. When Edward ceased to be enamoured of a variety of females, and attached him- self to Lady Elizabeth alone, Jane ex- perienced that keen and corroding anguish of the heart, which, losing the affections of that it most loves, flies naturally to un- bosom its griefs to some chosen friend.* Her Edward had become totally estrang- ed from her ; if he deserted her, she had no where to shelter herself Her gene- rous soul had thought not of ensuring any future fortune for the hour of distress, Hastings saw her mind struggling with misfortune, and joyfully stepped forward to relieve it. He had, in the wildness of youth, attached himself to a Mrs. Alicia Blount, who had formerly been the kind and confidential friend of Jane; but, seeing * Spehnan and other historians affirm, that Jane Shore lived with Lord Hastings as his mistress, after being desert- ed by Edward IV. THE COURT OF ENGLAND, 151 Excursions to France. how deeply she had captivated Hastings, forsook her entirely, nor could this hap- less woman command a shilling from one of those numerous beings, who had former- ly been established in all the comforts of life through her bounty. Gratitude, together with the constant custom of disclosing her sorrows to Lord o Hastings, caused her to feel for him a more tender and attached confidence. Edward perceived it ; and one day, de- siring to speak with Hastings, in private, he said to him, " I perceive you love my mistress, Jane Shore." The confused earl blushed, and, in great agitation, stammered out, " Pardon me, my liege — " " Nay, man, deny it not," said Edward, " I assure you, it affords me the sincerest pleasure ; for I think my praying mistress would rather sup- port herself by the Lord Chamberlain's 152 PRIVATE HISTORY OF ExCnrsioTis to France. staff, than lean entirely on that of a de- vout pilgrim, bound for Loretto ! So take her, my good Lord Chamberlain ; and may you be only as liappy with her as I have been : for, see, Lady Elizabeth is coming, and to her I am solely riveted for the present: for — Ileigho! — you know, my dear fellow, I am about to bind myself for ever by those public and solemn ties, that the throne, tlie policy of my state^ Bnd my own dignity, require of me. Heaven grant 1 mw be able to love my Princess ! — but oh, William, my friend, she never can be- dear to this heart, like my adored Elizabeth." Hastings made no reply, but could not lielp mentally exclaimmg, "Oh that you w.ere not thus enchained! that to the gen- tle Jane you would rather devote yourself^ sooner than to one who seeks only her o^vn aggrandizement. Let her 1 love b^ THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 153 Excursions to France. for ever lost to me, and may Hastings alone be the victim of disappointed love, a willing sacrifice to the glory and happi- ness of his royal master !" In a few days after this interview with Hastings, Edward sent for Jane to his apartment. — '' My dear Jane," said he, " we must part." " Alas ! my Lord," said she, bursting into tears. '-' Hear me," said Edward. " Be as- sured, I shall ever regard you ; but I am married ; and I have vowed, before God, that to my wife alone will I devote my- self" This was undoubtedly an equivoque on the part of Edward, and might be taken either as applicable to his present engage- ment with Lady Elizabeth, or the ties that bound him to the Princess of Savoy. " Hastings loves you," continued he ; 154 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Excursions to France. " he is the best and truest of subjects, and the worthiest amonGj men. Take this ring — wear it for my sake. My dear Jane, my finances are very low ,; I can do nothing for you ; but Hastings is wealthy and generous, and will protect you as you deserve. Farewell ; — believe mc ever your friend." It w^as contrived, on her departure, that Hastings should throw himself in her way. Dangerous situation ! when the heart, softened by grief, experiences a kindling attachment. Bitter were the tears she shed, it is true ; but they fell on the bosom of Hastings. Dried by the hand of tenderness and benevc)lence, they soon ceased to flow. Her munificent lover prevented every Avish ere she had well formed it ; he gave her opportunities and the means of relieving the indigent and ^ppressed,-r-the greatest pleasure he could THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 155 Excursions to France. afford her generous heart ; and remained the fond and honourable protector of this miscruided but amiable female : till his premature and tragical death left her to endure many succeeding years of penury, and to close her life under all the horror* of complicated distress. 156 PRIVATE HISTORr OF A short Peace Mith a treacherous Enemy. CHAP. XII. 4 SHORT PEACE WITH A TREACHEROUS ENEMY, Every man's conscience is a thousand swords. To fight against a blood-stainM homicide. SHAKESPEARE. THE beautiful wife of the Parisian financier hastened to perform her promise of paying a visit to England ; and, soon after the departure of the belles of nobi- bility from Paris, this celebrated lady ar- rived at the court of London. While her soft and attractive charms influenced Englishmen in her favour, they THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 157 A short Peace with a treacherous Enemy. most of them gave the palm of superiority to the native beauties of their own island. Whatever innovations fashion may pro- duce, yet modesty ever will be the pecu- liar charm of Britannia's daughters. They know not how to divest themselves en- tirely of this endearing quality ; the faint relics of it will appear in those who have professionally laid it aside ; and, however the gay female, who lives in reputation, may throw off the outward garment, in compliance with ridiculous custom, an overspreading blush and a downcast eye shew, that the mind of an English woman is incapable of casting off its inward veil of purity. Whatever the dissipation of a depraved court may allow, or whatever free ideas the fashionable and hicfh-born women of quality may adopt, which, in teaching her to cast off vulgar prejudices, too often VOL. I. p 158 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A short Peace with a treacherous Eiiemy. cause her to lay aside the principles of virtue and delicacy, yet the major part of the Endish were much shocked at the nudity of the exotic fair one. The youths and maidens blushed as they passed her in the pubHc walks ; the sober citizens and their Vrives held up their heads and eyes; the canaille laughed, and made use of coarse expressions ; while her quality supporters walked on each side of the fair Parisian in triumph, habited nearly in the same style with herselr^ whose outrh dress, or rather undress, was more won- dered at, than her lovely face or perfect form were applauded. She walked, un- blushing, amidst her numerous gazers, inwardly ridiculing the awkward imitation of her fashionable copyists, and the gothic appearance of the English Bourgeoisie. She was entirely excluded from the notice of the Duqhess of York. That ex- THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 159 A short Peace with a treacherous Enemy. cellent lady wished to banish, as much as possible, from her circle, all Gallic cus- toms, which were then arrived at an alarming height of depravity. And, when Me often speak of the licentious court of England, it is by no means intended to implicate the amiable and august mother of Edward. The courtiers that composed his train were most of them votaries of dissipation ; but to the great and valuable parents of Edward, virtue and merit were more indearing passports than nobility, to those courtiers who shone in their circle ; and the esteem and favour they received from those Avorthy personages were the effects of their desert and renown in the service of their country. The Countess of Devonshire continued to feast and cherish the lovely stranger, who laughed inwardly at her profuseness : public breakfasts, masques, tournaments, p 2 160 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A short Peace with a treacherous Enemy. were all performed to do her honour. But Madame was weary of her sojourn- ment amongst such barbarians, as she was pleased to denominate the English, and in haste to return to the festive court she had left, especially as she found her mission to this country in no way pf suc- ceeding. The artful Louis, knowing the amorous complexion of Edward, had sent this lovely woman, to endeavour, by all the persuasions of superior beauty, joined to the most captivating conversation, to draw him in to sign a negotiation, by no means advantageous for England, but highly so for the French monarch. But Edward, in regard to the charms of women, had become marble. Solely attached to the powerful attractions of Lady Elizabeth Grey, if the love of a new object shot across his thoughts, it was the THE COURT OP EXGLAXD. IGI A tborl Peace with a treacherous Enemy. Princess of Savoy, adorned with all that youth, innocence, blooming health, and innate modesty could combine to make her lovely and alluring among women. In the contemplation of her charms, even Lady Elizabeth was remembered no more. And now a scene of charity was opened that reflected the highest honour on the WOMEN- OF EXGLAND, cvcry onc of which became emulous in providing for the widows and orphans of those brave men wlio had fallen in the late war with France, and large subscriptions were levied throughout the whole kin^Klom. The treachery of France was at work. Grca-t preparations, on their part, were making for war ; while the English, they imagined, fancied themselves securely at peace. But many loyal Yorkists having gone to France, on parties of pleasure, merely to see the country, informed their p 3 162 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A short Peace with a treacherous Enemy. king, on their return, with the hostile preparations of Louis. Edward wished to form those alliances which might strengthen his kingdom, and enable him to meet his artful foe with equal force. Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, made a treaty with England to unite in this war. The motives of the Duke in this v/ere, however, purely selfish ; for little was to be depended upon either with him or the French monarch, both bad and despicable princes. Margaret again became troublesome to Edward. The throne began to totter; for England had made a peace, which had disgusted even the lower classes, who generally cry out for peace, at all events. But the short duration of this, and the determined war that followed, only pro- mised fresh expences and hazard. Lord Scales, w ho was then at the head THE COURT OF ENGLAND. l6$ A short Peace with a treacherous Enemy of administration, was a wise and virtuous man, but of too pacific a nature, and ill formed for the troublous times of Ed- ward's reign. There wanted a person of talents uncommonly superior, at the com- mencement of a war that threatened to be most arduous and momentous. The great Cobham again undertook the guidance of the helm of state ; and returned to the ministry, from his retire- ment, with the power of a " giant refresh- ed." He opposed his deep penetration against the secret machinations of France^ and war was again declared against that nation. A ludicrous war also took place be- tween Edward and the Countess of West- moreland, which became the reigning conversation of the day for some time. Hastings had told Jane Shore the expres- sion the Countess had made use of at the 164 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A short Peace with a treacherous Enemy. court of Louis ; and Jane told it. in confi- dence, to Lady Elizabeth Grey, who re- ported it to the prince. At a masque given to the princes of the blood, and the nobility, by Lady Stanley, Edv.-ard, in great indignation, told the Countess of Westmoreland of her imprudence, and evinced a serious displeasure at her dis- loyal expressions. She firmly denied the charge, and insisted on his giving up the author; literally declaring, if she did find him out, she would give him " a boa: on the ear /*' In those days, we must not look for the refinement of expression that we at present enjoy. Edward had too much honour to give up his author, but assured her ladyship, he Oouid depend on the veracity of his informer. The Coun- tess was in a rage, and telling the Prince, it was only an invention of his own, to ealumniate her, they became irrecoiicile^ THE COURT OF ENGLAND. \65 A short Peace with a treacherous Enemy, able, to the no small mortification of the Countess, who had often quaffed a bowl of wine with Edward, and whom she really esteemed, whatever might be her good wishes to Louis and the Lancastrian party. 166 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Cessation to tlie Earthly Sorrow of an Unfortnnate. CHAP. XIIL ^4 CESSATION TO TJIE EARTIILY WRROff , OF AN UNFORTUNATE. On some fond brea'st the parting souT relies ; .Some pious •drops the changing state requires ; E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries ; E"en jo our ashes live their wonted fires. gray's E1.EGT. NEARLY about this period, the lovely Maria de Rosenvault, in the priroe of life, and yet possessed of t];ie same angelic countenance as ever, though deprived of the use of her sylph-like limbs, paid the last awful debt of nature. Before we take a final leave of this victim of man s in- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 167 A Ce ssation to the Earthly Sorrow of an Unfortunate. constancy and caprice, we must be per- mitted to remark the close of that life, over whose brightest moments of sunshine hung the scarce-ever-wavering, but conti- nually lowering, clouds of severe misfor- tune. The officer, who appeared brave and generous, and of the most cultivated un- derstanding, under whose protection the sentiments of friendship, combining with that interest she felt for her daug;hter, had induced her to place herself, proved to her an afBictino; scourge for all her former errors. To exculpate him from the ca- lumny which had assailed him, of his hav- ing joined the Lancastrian party, and also to retrieve him from pecuniary embar- rasments, brought on himself by his ex- travagance, Maria would, with indefati- gable kindness, rise from her bed in the dead of night, traverse the country in a 168 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Cessation to the Earthly Sorrow of an Unfortun ate. litter, or on horseback, — for convenient carriages for speed were then unknown, — - and often prove to his accusers and slan- derers, by her refined sense of reasoning and convincing proofs, how basely he was calumniated ; while, from her scanty purse, she would satisfy, as far as she was able, his clamorous creditors, or, by her sweet persuasions, render them patient and merciful towards him. In the height of an ardent fever did she once set out on one of those perilous ex- peditions ; and, falling asleep in an open litter, she manifestly endangered her life. A severe rheumatism was the result, which deprived her for ever of the use of her limbs. Oh Thou! who wearest a God-like form, to whom woman is to look up, for not only superior endowments, but also superior virtue, say, amidst all thy deep THE COURT OF ENGLAND. \69 A Cessation to the Earthly Sorrow of an Unfortunate. researches, if thou could'st yet find what was most wanting in the donation of vir- tues that thy Almighty Former im- planted within thy breast ? — No ! not one was wanting. He, when he called thee into being, gave thee every virtue : but passion, sensuality, and an incontrolable power, given thee by the blind policy of nations, has rooted the sweetest, the rrsost angelic, from thy mind, as far as relates to weak and credulous woman ! Ask thy own corrupt heart, when the slave of fashion and vice, and conscience will loudly echo to it, that it is gratitude ! The daughter of Maria, it has been re- marked before, was in that interesting state of life when adolescence, aided by every feminine attraction, possesses its sweetest charms — unconscious w orth, and native innocence. With the most infan- tine and graceful complacence did she VOL. I. Q 170 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Cessation to the Earthly Sorrow of an Unfortunate. endeavour, by every amiable attention, to please the protector of her unhappy mo- ther ; and, with fascinating naivete, would she anticipate each domestic wish, to ren- der his home as dear to him as possible* Her mother's ill health, her mournful re- flections on the various vicissitudes of her life, depressed her natural gaiety, and gave a plaintive and melancholy turn to her conversation, ill suited to the frivolity of the age she lived in. And now, with deep-felt horror, her penetrating eye saw an illicit love kindling in the breast of him, she fancied most her friend, for her beloved daughter. This, it is generally thought, hastened her dissolution; but, while ability remained, she sketched the eventful history of her sufferings, as a valu- able and warning legacy for a daughter, exemplarily virtuous; and who spurned, with spirit, the degrading offers, from the THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 171 A Cessation to the Earthly Sorrow of an Unfortunate. ■ ignoble betrayer of female honour ; in- debted to her mother for credit, fame, and reputation. The sweet hope, now, of a provision for her daughter vanished. For this cherished idol of her affections she had sacrificed herself and her principles ; but indigence seemed to be the only inheri- tance she sliould be able to bequeath her. In the midst of her fallen reputation, and when her mind was a prey to the bitterest anguish, De Roscnvault could not but see and adore the virtue he had once despised, and the native purity of that Avife, to whom he had been cruelly and repeatedly faithless, during the short time they lived together. lie wished, at the time even when she was assailed by these last complications of misfortune, to be again united to her ; but such was her Q 2 172 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Cessation to the Earthly Sorrow of an Unfortunate. high sense of conjugal honour that, not his infidelity or neglect, but her own errors, prevented her from accepting the offered reconciliation. She determined never to bring back to his bosom a wife, who had departed from the paths of virtue ; and, having once deviated from the line of rectitude, though to a faithless and des- picable husband, she resolved never to see him more. With difficulty a noble friend obtained from her first and royal lover a small an- nuity, to be insured to her daughter. This sweetened her latter moments, which w^ere rapidly approaching. She entreated her body might be buried in a cemetery belonging to one of the royal palaces ; that the gay, the thought- less, Edward -might, as he contemplated the narrow and mournful habitation of THE COURT OF EXCLAXD. 173 A Cessation to the Laithiy Sono'.v of an Uulortunate. her be had once loved so vvcll, cast a thought from the scenes of hixury and pleasure towards the chambers of death ; Mhere the beauty, whose smile had once diffused happiness through his soul, and transported it ^vith rapture and delight, lay neglected by him in her last moments, and was there confounded with the dust of deformity. We know not the agitated thouglits of the soul that, with one foot on the thres- hold of eternity, casts back a longing look to all it leaves dear on earth. It is na- tural to suppose, that Alaria, when she gave her last solemn injunction to be buried in that spot, imagined she saw Edward, with Avhom, in the infancy of their love, she had often taken the rural walk, now wandering near her humble tomb, ^vith his intended bride, rich in all q3 174 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Cessation to the Earthly Sorrow of an Unfortunate. the pride of youthful charms, a royal and a happy rival. She might fancy the con- science of Edward whispering in his breast many a reflective tribute to the worth of her he had for ever lost, and giving a sigh to her unhappy fate. And that, as he cast his eyes with delight on a face which, though lovely, could not equal Maria's ; while the unavoidable compari- son might reproach him for his cruel neg- ligence in deserting her, might, she prayed, bring to his bosom that sincere penitence, w^iich should determine him to cherish the blooming treasure he was yet in pos- session of Perhaps her fond imagina- tion figured to itself her royal lover drop- ping a tear over her ashes. From him she incessantly loved, the bare idea of such a testimony of tenderness, would afford her comfort even in death. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 175 A Cessation to the Earthly Sorrow of an Unfortunate. She spoke but little on the day of her decease, and seemed absorbed in deep meditation. The last words she uttered, about two hours before her dissolution, were comprised in a blessing, the most fervent, on her darling daughter. So died i\Iaria de Rosenvault ; formed for virtue, but an unwilling victim to the vices of others. With a heart open to every generous and sympathetic feeliqg, her hand would bestow the last shilling in her possession, knowing that the morrow brought her no certainty of another. With the keenest anxiety for a daughter's purity, she was obliged to support her by living in an unlawful commerce with those, whose conduct made her despise their persons, while necessity obliged her to submit to their will; and oftentimes undergo a penance, the most severe to a 176 PRIVATE HISTORY OF ■ -■■■-'■' A Cessation to the Earthly Sorrow of an Unfortunate. delicate and feeling mind, that of com- placently receiving, at her conversaziones, the titled libertine, whose principles were atheism and immorality ; and the haughty beauty, high in splendid life, who set vir- tue at defiance, laughed at female mo- desty, and banished it from her discourse. There Vice failed in her contagious ef- forts ; and the youthful mind, while it is too easily warmed by the smooth-tongued sophistry of the elegant and sensible man of fashion, and the refined polish of the seemingly delicate and insinuating female seducer, flies affrighted and disgusted from open and daring licentiousness, which, unmasked, speedily defeats its own unhallowed purposei So the daugh- ter of the unfortunate Maria turned ab- horrent from the path of vice, which, to her reflecting mind, appeared divested of THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 177 A Cessation to the Earthly Sorrow of an Unfortunate. all its flowery enamel, and shewed to her, by the afflictions of her mother, that its walks were choaked up with the thorns of sorrow and remorse. 178 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Triumph. CHAP. XIV. A TRIUMPH. Then will I raise aloft the milk white ro.^e *, With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd. SIIAKESPEARC. THE House of York, at this time, seemed wanting in no support; but, fixed on an apparently firm foundation at home, thought only of ensuring her con- quests abroad, and humbling the pride of France and her allies. But the demon of discord again seemed to unite his force against the happiness of the Yorkists; ^nd the best blood in the t P«?yice of th^ House of York. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 179 A Triumph. kingdom was to be shed as a sacrifice for Edward's crimes and follies. From pri- vate enemies of the virtuous Princess of Savoy, or from what cause was unknown, lie took, or appeared to take, a rooted aversion to her, and refused to ratify the treaties of his marriage, declaring he never would unite his fate to her's. The hopes of Lady Elizabeth again strengthened; and it is universally be- lieved, that she and her confessor were the chief agents in a plot to calumniate this unfortunate and worthy princess. It is very certain she shewed, no longer, a re- pugnance at receiving the visits of the prince; and the tie of his affection for her seemed now more indissoluble than ever. Warwick, enraged at his duplicity, no longer able to endure the conduct of the man who had thus called his integrity in 180 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Triumph. question at the court of Savoy, and from whom he had also received the most viru- lent abuse for his virtuous expostulations, quitted his party for ever, and united himself to the house of Lancaster. The name of Warwick, skilled in arms, brave as a lion, diffused terror against whoever he marched. A large body, com- posed of the chief nobility and bravest soldiers in the kingdom, revolted from Edward, to join their beloved Warwick. Even Lord Hastings, whose love and loyalty to his master w^re proverbial, felt himself wavering, and half inclined to fol- low the earl ; but he reflected on the con- fidence which Edward placed in him, and in which he was determined to fall, sooner than abuse. Lady Elizabeth trembled at the disaf- fection of the peers, and was fearful all her hopes of being Queen of England THE COURT OP ENGLAND. 181 A Triumph. would, by this untimely revolt, be for ever blighted, by the means of her in- trigues to strengthen her power. With tears she besought Lord Hastings, who, she knew, had great influence over the minds of the people, not to desert his prince in this perilous moment. His own noble principles of loyalty, and not the artifice of Lady Elizabeth, were the springs that actuated his conduct. He had long perceived the deep-veiled ambi- tion of this lady ; and was particularly ar- dent in his wishes to see the Princess of Savoy in possession of her just rights. He was now commanded by Edward to be for ever silent on that subject; and, though the despotic feature of the times obliged him to obey the royal mandate, he was strenuously determined not to pay his court to Lady Elizabeth, farther than the cold and distant rules of politeness VOL. I. R 182 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Tnuruph. due to her sex and rank in life required. The ideas he entertained of her exactly corresponded with those of an unfortunate Lollard, who expired in prison for utter- ing the following expression : — " If she is really a princess, I owe her homage as the spouse of Edward; but, if only Eliza- beth Grey, I think her no more virtuous, nor more to be respected, than the mis- tress of another man." Though Hastings, and several other noble lords, still kept firmly attached to ^Edward, and rallied all the force they were able, to oppose the rebels ; yet this unfortunate alienation of the Earl of War- wick, from the cause that he had so lon^z and faithfully served, greatly weakened the house of York : and jthe heir of Lan- caster was hastening on with a powerful army, to take fixed possession of the throne. How often thus do we see pri- THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. 183 A Trhiniph. vate iniquities, and the profanation of sacred vows, bring on an increase of national calamities ! All who possessed the mild and tender virtues of humanity foresaw, with pain, the terrific prospect of a reign like that of Margaret of Anjou ; for it was she who governed, and not the meek and pious Henry VI. Long had that prince, more fitted for the cloister than the throne, re- signed his sceptre into the hands of a woman possessed of masculine powers, with courage to defend, and spirit to maintain, her regal dignity ; but who was so devoid of all the softer feelings of her sex, that she united to that manly bravery a savage and revengeful cruelty. Possessed of such a geiieral as War- wick, she now carried ruin and devasta- tion amidst all the party of the house of York. r2 184 PRIVATE HISTORY OF ^ A Triumph. Lady Elizabeth Grey saw, with anguish and disappointment, the threatened down- fal of her ambition. Edward, in his seri- ous moments of reflection, still did ho- mage in his heart to the superior virtue and charms of the Princess of Savoy. But as Warwick had ever shewn himself the strenuous supporter of her rights, and, with open admiration, descanted on the attractions of her person, it afforded her enemies the means of laying a black and atrocious plot against her ; and, while the heart of Edward, often prone to excellent impressions, seemed pleading in her fa- vour, a new scene of unheard of calumny took rise, and slander, with envenomed tongue, declared Warwick to be her ac- cepted and highly favoured adorer ; who was, in effect, fighting to establish him- self on the English . throne, instead of THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 185 A Triumph. Henry VI. when he would declare the princess queen. Edwai'd, at the feet of Lady Elizabeth, again renewed his solemn oath, of never uniting with the Princess Bona ; and bound himself by another, equally solemn, of a public marriage with Lady Elizabeth, and triumphant coronation, if ever he should recover a throne seemingly now for ever lost to him. The army, commanded by Warwick, still continued victorious ; and every day performed new feats of valour, with in- creased success. Flushed with conquest, Margaret of Anjou committed some un- heard of and taunting cruelties on the York party ; which greatly alienated those of her followers, who were but new in her service, and whom the name of the beloved Warwick, alone, had brought over to enlist under her standard, R 3 1S6 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Triumph. A part of her army, disgusted with her sanguinary proceedings, began already to desert over to Edward; who, throwing off the restraint his brother had laid him under, was collecting a chosen band of brave and hardy warriors, and, by one desperate effort, he resolved to regain his crown, or lose his life. He met the queen's party, headed by the noble and ill-fated Warwick, in the memorable plain of Tewkesbury; in which battle that un- fortunate general was slain. Margaret now saw her late sanguine and brilliant hopes for ever departed. Her prime bulwark was gone. Her army, seeing their leader slain, deserted by multitudes, and rallied themselves under the banners of the house of York. The woman prevailed over the Amazon^ and she fled from the scene of combat. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 187 A Triuinph. bathed in tears ; the first she had shed in all her adverse campaigns ; for, with War- w ick, she knew every gleam of hope was fled. Those who followed him into the field, wherever he went, from affection to his person, were no longer attached to her interests. When woman forgets all the softer vir- tues of her sex, for which alone she was designed; when the camp becomes her delight, and scenes of rapine and carnage render callous the heart, which, enshrined in a frame of delicacy, evinces that it ought to be the seat of tenderness ; she gains few proselytes, and scarce one sin- cere friend. The impetuosity of blind revenge, and deeply injured honour, had stimulated Warwick, in the anguish of conflicting passions, to follow the fortune, and attach 188 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Trill mpli. himself to the claims, of the wretched Margaret. Their beloved leader slain, his followers thought of her no more; they recollected their beloved prince, who, in the midst of all his indiscretions and faults, was generous, brave, and kind, to the meanest of his soldiery. When his fine form appeared in the plains of Tewkesbury, he seemed Hke a bright star dropped from the firmament, to gui4e them to a safe and tranquil port. " Long live," said they, " the noble Ed- ward ! and firm for ever stand the illustri- ous pillars of the house of York !" The cry soon became universal ; Queen Mar- garet's follov^^ers quitted the field in dis- may ; and Edward was crowned, with the unanimous consent of th^ people. Jienry VI. was now safely lodged in those apartments of the Tower, which THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 189 A Triumph were destined to prisoners of state; a captive in his own kingdom, near the palace of his successful opponent. Margaret, who detested his pusillani- mity, was by no means the kind and gen- tle soother ot his sorrows. But, much as we may dislike this woman's want of fe- minine amiability, yet sour misfortune, whenever she triumphs, pains the feeling heait; and whosoever feels the arrow from her sure-strung bow, deserves com- miseration. So the sad fall of Margaret cannot fail of exciting pity, even in those who condemn her masculine conduct. Harassed, as she was, by her late des- perate defeat, she still hoped to procure some force from France to enable her again to enter the field against Edward ; and at last she effected her escape, in the disguise of a country gentleman, attended by the Duke of Somerset, who had fol- 190 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Triumph. lowed her faithfully in all her misfortunes, and who habited himself now in the dis- guise of a menial servant. Their plans appeared to promise suc- cess; and the noble fugitives began their intended enterprise. THE COURT OF ExNGLAXD. l^l The sad Chance of War. CHAP. XV. THE SAD CHANCE OF WAR. IVe touched the hij^hest pointy And from tliat full meridian of my glory I shall fall - - - Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more ! SHAKESPEARE, LEAVING Margaret, and her faith- ful companion in misfortune, to pursue their hazardous journey, the memorable day of Tewkesbury must be again re- verted to ; where, though a complete vic- tory was gained by the Yorkists, they lost the pride of all their heroes, the match- less Lord Fauconberg, whose unexam- pled deeds of valour have been before 192 PRIVATE HISTORY OF The sad Chance of War. spoken of. He was son to that Lord Fauconberg who was killed at the battle of Ravenspur. Our navy, then, did not approach, in any degree, to that zenith of glory it at present boasts ; for though Lord Faucon- berg frequently protected the sea, against the intrusions of our gallic neighbours, he was also often called into the field, during the combats of civil war. This undaunted and successful hero, whom no danger could intimidate, or numbers overawe, seemed, on the morn- ing of this decisive battle, to have a pre- sentiment of his approaching fate. He penned his last testament, and bequeath- ed to a female friend he highly valued, and whom, after his wifp, he made men- tion of with the tenderest regard, a castle he possessed in one of the pleasantest counties in England, with a part of his 3 THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 193 The sad Chance of War. fortune; and recommended her to the kind protection of the government, when he should be no more. He knew the love that the king and people bore to him ; and that they would faithfully attend to his dying request, and hold it sacred. In his pocket book was found a hasty prayer, addressed in fervency to the Supreme Being, imploring success to that cause in which he was engaged, and recom- mending his own spirit to Him who gave it. By a skilful manoeuvre of his troops, he might be said to mow down whole ranks of the enemy ; and he fell, just as the shout of Victory announced the con- clusion of this memorable battle; as if, having atchieved all that was great and wonderful for his country. Heaven had reserved this glorious moment for his death ; and destined that the stain of his VOL. I. s J94 PRIVATE HISTORY OF The sad Chance of War. blood on the laurels that encircled his brow, should preserve them in immortal and unfading verdure, through recording ages. Warlike and magnanimous spirit of Pembroke, forgive an appearance of partial praise, unfelt by the author of this humble essay ! Truly sensible of thy exalted worth, it was declared, in the commencement of this history, that the fondest partiality knew not to which the preference of valour and virtue could be accorded. But at the time marked by these records, the gallant Pembroke lived ; idolized by the people, adored by his monarch, and loved and valued by his private friends ; the charm of society, the ornament of a court, ^he scourge of France, and of every hostile enemy to that state which Pembroke defended with the brightest deeds of valour, accompa- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 1^5 The sad Chance of War. nied with the most ardent zeal and un- shaken fidelity. Tears streamed down the cheeks of Edward, at beholding the fall of this firm and loyal supporter of his house, the va- liant Fauconberg. Every healing art was essayed, but life was fled for ever. By an order from the court, the hero's re- mains were fixed on a bed of state ; and masses for the repose of his soul were performed in every church and monastery in the kingdom. A funeral, of the utmost magnificence, was the last testimony of affection and gratitude that England could give her la- mented hero. The solemn train moved in awful procession through the city of London, whose streets were overlaid with the finest gravel. The mournful silence that was preserved, rendered the sad s ^ W6 PRIVATE HISTORY OF The sad Chance of War. scene most beautifully impressive. Not a breath, not a murmur was heard, but every eye seemed crystallized with a tear. The voices of the priests faultered, as they chanted the requiem before the body of the hero which was borne on a triumphal car. Edward followed, and was a mour- ner indeed ! After him the other princes of the blood, with the nobles, cardinals, bishops, and inferior clergy. The body was carried in this magnifi- cent manner to the church, which was formerly situated where now stands the cathedral church of St. Paul, where the Cardinal of York pronounced a funeral oration ; and, while the chorus of priests sang the de profundis, the grief of the audience could no longer be restrained ; an universal sigh burst from the over- charged bosoms of the mourners, and not THE COURT OF ENGLAND. igj Tlie gad Cl iauceT if War. an eye but paid its flowing tribute to the valiant and lamented Fauconberg. While Endand thus mourned for her departed hero, the keenest anxiety was felt by her true and loyal friends, for the conservation of him, wdio presided at the helm of affairs, the illustrious Cob- ham ; whose ill health, from his great mental exertions, for- the welfare of his country, filled every patriotic bosom with alarm, and their most ardent prayers were offered up, for his recovery, so necessary to the preservation of the state. The intriguing I.ouis, although deeply chagrined by the triumph of the house of York, laid his plans to bring over the Duke of Burgundy to form an alliance with him ; though the treacherous Duke pretended to be the friend of Edward. s 3 198 PRIVATE HISTORY OF The sad Chance of War. Perhaps the epithet of treachery may be too forcible, as the possessions of the Dake of Burgundy lying so exposed to those of the French King, his motives might be dictated by the fear of losing those possessions, Avhen he knew the in- triguing spirit of Louis, aided by so pow- erful a minister or adviser as De Com- mines. Louis, ever disposed to attack the weakest, now was bitter in his invective against the Duchess of Burgundy. It was she, as he declared, who fomented her hus- band's hatred to him ; who, from her re- lationship to Edward, promoted every plan of alliance with this country : when too late, she would see her error, and " her fair eyes be drowned in tears ;" and wretched should he be to see such beauty in distress. More beautiful than wise, THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 199 The sad Chance of War. this weak princess listened to the flattering encomiums which he uttered by his am- bassador ; and wrought, with her fair hands, a scarf for him, who was sent by the artful Louis, to undermine the ducal dominion of her imbecile and worthless husband. On the other hand, the mother of Ed- ward, who, no doubt, regarded her as her daughter, urged her on to strengthen the bonds of alliance that had been formed by her marriage with the duke, and also with the treaty lately signed between him and the prince her son. She undertook then to demonstrate to Charles, who did not well deserve the name of Bold^ what was the general opinion concerning him. The duchess told her husband he was not thought brave ; that it was fancied that he was afraid of putting himself at the head 200 PRIVATE HISTORY OF The sad Chance (>f War. of his army. Thus, like a vane, blown by all winds, the beauteous, but trifling, sis- ter of Edward was made a tool in the hands of either party. Always to be found at the head- quarters of her husband, the French monarch wished her to be inform- ed, that circumstances, threatening the dukedom of Charles, were serious, and she had better retire ; v.hile she, wishing to promote the interest of Edward, wished not to remove till the duke should order her away. A treacherous letter was written by Louis XI. wherein he declared how sorry he was to have been induced ever to have signed any thing that could militate against the Duke of Burgundy; that for several years he had been his firm friend ; and assured him that he now sincerely pitied him for his alliance with England : he THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 201 The sad Chance of War. pitied him, because he was sure to be con- quered. At the same time, he artfully told him, he might prevent all those ravages of war ; which was, to withdraw his alliance from England, and enter into league and amity with him. He then scoffingly told him to command his duchess to return to her spindle, and the management of her domestic concerns ; and, in her leisure moments, contemplate her beauties in a mirror, and adorn her flowing hair with gems and flowers. The unfeeling Louis, when he heard of the death of the gallant Fauconberg, pub- licly rejoiced. He had given him the ap- pellation of '' Butcher Fauconberg," which proves how little he knew the private worth of him, who was " bold as a lion, and gentle as a lamb." Edward, in the midst of an elegant and splendid enter- 202 . PRIVATE HISTORY OF The sad Chance of War. tainment, given on the feast of the Epi- phany, was melancholy and depressed ; and could scarce repress the starting tear, when he reflected, that, on the past anni- versary of that day, he had enjoyed the charming and exhilarating society of his lost and lamented supporter, the valiant Fauconberg. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 205 British Ladies of former Days. CHAP. XVI. BRITISH LADIES OF FORMER DAYS* ■These are stars indeed j And sometimes falling ones. SHAKESPEARE. EDWARD still continued to treat the Princess of Savoy with the most contemp- tuous neglect and marked indifference; and his name became a jest at that court, which, though gratified that England should seek its alliance, was conscious that it strengthened the throne of Britain, by uniting its force to that kingdom. Vaudevilles were sung in ridicule of Ed- ward and his bigoted favourite ; for 204 PRIVATE HISTORY OF British Ladies of forraer Days. France had thrown off the supremacy of the pope ; and, to ridicule some gross ab- surdities in the church of Rome, had be- come fashionable. Those who had formerly admired Ed- ward for the graces of his youth, and his many accomplishments, to which, they flattered themselves, was subjoined an excellent heart, were grieved at their dis- appointed hopes ; and, though they tole- rated the ludicrous songs in ridicule of him, which were often sung in their pre- sence, the relatives of the princess ex- claimed, with serious concern, " Ah 1 qu'il soit gueri, ce coeur gat^ 1" Ah I may this corrupted heart be made whole I Since the last short peace with France, English women had adopted a change of manners and appearance, which astonish- ed their countrymen, who still possessed that saturnine distance and gravity so pe- THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. 205 British Ladies of former Days. culiar to their character ; a distance that appears to dread an incroachment on the plenitude of their purse, and a gravity proceeding too often from the low pride of knowing it to be well filled. The dress of the ladies became more simple, but infinitely more tasteful : it bore a resemblance to the costume of the Ro- man and Grecian ladies. But Roman vir- tue and Grecian industry seemed to be little understood by the British dames ; who, while they displayed every feminine attraction to the most alluring advantage, coarse and masculine manners, with an impudent nonchalance , that set modesty at defiance, were practised by the greatest part of those who claimed pretensions to rank in the higher circles of fashion. They quaffed the rosy bowl of wine with con- vivial freedom, and ate like farmers. In- defatigable in the ardour of the chace^ VOL. I. T 206 PRIVATE HISTORY OF British Ladies of former Days. they followed the sports of the field with avidity and delight. The Duchess of Suffolk mounted a spi- rited charger, and ran him against that of Lord Stanley, for twelve flaggons of the choicest wine. She had prepared herself also for a tilting match, at a tournament, with a knight of high renown in arms. The gilded armour was purchased, the golden high-plumed helmet, and a shield with the device of " The gifts of Bacchus for the conqueror !'' But the husband of this fair heroine laid his positive com- mands on her, to forbid and prevent the exposure of a person peculiar for feminine grace and delicac}^, though the outward covering of such a daring and masculine mind. , The Duchess of Suffolk's horse-racing and intended tilting match, on which con- siderable bets were laid, that she would THE COURT OF ENGLAXD. 207 British Ladies of former Days. undertake it, in spite of the duke's re- strictions, furnished sufficient matter for conversation amongst the higher circles, for some time ; till the following circum^ stance excited the attention of all ranks of people. A young lady, of interesting appear- ance, possessed of an ample fortune, the natural dauo;hter of a nobleman of hicfh rank, for some domestic disagreement, lived separated from her husband, to whom she had been united very early in life. Though the age was in a great degree enlightened, yet a firm belief in witchcraft continued to prevail ; and, not very long before this lady's marriage, in the early part of the reign of Henry VI. Eoling- broke and his associates were burnt for the crime of witchcraft ; being accused of Jiaying made a figure of wax, which, con- T 2 208 PRIVATE HISTORY OF British Ladies of former Days. tinually melting before a slow fire, so gradually caused the strength of Henry to decline. The high rank of Bolingbroke> or that of his wife, could not shield them from the malice of their accusers, nor the combination of superstition and cruelty. Elinor of Bolingbroke confessed that she had been anxious to obtain charms, and had made use of several spells to ensure the affections of her husband ; though she solemnly averred her innocence of com- bining in any plots against the king : but, having ingenuously confessed this weak- ness, the rest of the accusations against her were easily believed; and, after a penance the most severe, she was banished to the Isle of Man, where she suffered death : though some historians alledge that she suffered the punishment of her pretended crime in London. When this lady, so much superior in THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 209 British Ladies of former Days. years and understanding, had so firm a belief in the miracles produced by magic, it need not be wondered at, that a young and inexperienced female should be in- fected with the prevailing error of the age she lived in. It was remarked above, that she lived in a state of separation from her husband. She therefore resolved to ensure the safety of her virtue, amidst a great variety of company with which she associated, by means of a talisman she wore at all times tied round her neck, and suspended to a chain of polished steel. The person who composed for her this charm, assured the credulous fair one, that it would assuredly preserve her chastity, although assailed by the severest temptations. A young priest, however, had made a tender impression on her heart ; which had appeared hitherto more to be thQ T 3 210 PRIVATE HISTORY OF British La«lies of former Days. seat of coquetish apathy, than posses- sed of any sensibility to the passion of love. The brother of this Jleurette dis- pensing ecclesiastic, at the same time, felt a strong predilection for this widow- ed wife ; and, though they were well con- vinced, that the one, by her being al- ready bound by the laws of wedlock, and the other by his vows, were rendered incapable of. forming a matrimonial alli- ance with her, confided the secret of their attachment to each other, and continued to visit the lady, and thus increased their regard by the frequent enjoyment of the charms of her conversation. Though it was never exactly known, it is generally believed that these culpable brothers agreed on adjudging the fair to him, for whom she discovered a decided partiality; and, at length, they formed THE COURT OF ENGLAXD. 211 British Ladies of former Days. the iniquitous plan of carrying her off by violence. The lady, who had a firm belief in dreams, is said to have had an extra- ordinary vision the night before this as- sault took place ; and, fully convinced in her own mind, that the predicted event must come to pass, she engaged the above mentioned gentlemen to dine with her the next day, with a prohibition to her ser- vant to admit no other company. After dinner, she was threatened with the prospect of her enlhvement by the priest; and both gentlemen took their leave. She called in a confidential maid servant, and, in an almost fainting state, and seemingly in great agitation of mind, she told her of the plan that was about to be put in practice against her. But she sat leaning her head on her hand, without making the smallest effort to es- ^12 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Britisli Ladies of former Days. cape from so dangerous a situation, though she might have effected it, there is hardly a doubt, with safety and but little diffi- culty. In about an hour the brothers returned with a swift travelling vehicle, into w hich, " with but little resistance on her part, they forced the lady ; who, after being absent with the most favoured gentleman for a' short time, returned to her home, and the brothers were ordered to stand a trial. Various were the conjectures caused by this strange elopement. Parties ran high, and opinions for and against the lady caused several dissensions in the polite circles. An enthusiatic young man, in the true spirit of chivalry, wrote to the deep-' ly injured fair one, as he deemed her, and offered to espouse her quarrel ; de- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 213 British Ladies of former Days. daring, like a true knight errant, his adoration of her person and virtues, though he had never seen her ! At length this important trial, expected with so much anxiety, came on. The court of justice was held at Oxford, and crowd- ed to a degree never known before. Pale, and almost breathless with agitation, the fail' prosecutrix made her appearance. Every eye beheld her with pity ; and every voice thundered vengeance on the violated rites of hospitality. The priest, they murmured, among themselves, must for ever lose his sacerdotal dignity ; as he, on every account, must be pronounced the most guilty. The estates of his culpable brother, would, no doubt, be forfeited to the crown. And thus, indeed, would their suppositions have been verified, had it not been proved on the trial, by concurring circumstances and credible 214 PRIVATE HISTORY OF British Ladies of fonuer Days. witnesses, that the lady had been con- senting to that excursion with the gentle- men, which bore so much the appearance of assault and violence, and that, v*hen seated in the travelling vehicle, she tore from her neck the hitherto cherished talisman, and, throwing it from her, ex- claimed, " Oh 1 welcome pleasure, in thy flowery mantle, and all thy soft at- tire, and hence for ever steel clad and cold preserver of female honour I " The mind of the public seemed no longer biassed in her favour. What were the motives for this assault must still re- main a paradox. The priest must have been conscious that his vows already made prevented him from marrying ; therefore no action brought against the lady, for the breach of her matrimonial engagements, in procuring her a divorce, could ensure to him the acquirement of that wealth shQ possessed. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 215 British Ladies of former Days. Had she been prompted alone by an illicit inclination, she might have indulged it, unknown to the world. We are rather inclined to look on those who urged her on to this rash step, and thus made her the public talk, as unprincipled libertines, whose chief aim was notoriety; while she appears to have been the victim of enthusiastic superstition, and labouring under a kind of partial insanity. 216 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Disappointed Ambition. CHAP. xvir. DISAPPOINTED A3IBITI0K. What will become of me now, wretched lady ! Shipwrecked upon a kingdom, where no pity, No friends, no hope j no kindred weep for me : Almost no grave allow'd me. Like the lilly, That once was mistress of the field, I'll hang The head, and perish !. SHAKESPEARi;. MARGARET, the better to disguise her plans, affected indisposition, and af- firmed, that the change of climate was absolutely requisite to her recovery. She therefore had the good fortune, as she fondly imagined it, of obtaining a pass- port for France. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 517 Disappointed Ambition. She has been accused, but we believe unjustly, of experiencing for Somerset that tender regard she had formerly lavish- ed on the Duke of Suffolk. To neither of these noblemen did the unfortunate queen, whose heart seemed a stranger to all the softer passions, evince any other partiality, than what she thought due to their political abilities, and undaunted valour in her cause. Somerset has also been accused of aiming at the throne of his master, and at the instigations of the queen ; but Somerset fought for him he thought his only lawful master, and from his steady adherence to the house of Lan- caster. Brave and blindly courageous, to an excess of rashness, Margaret, who was an Amazon, and detested the want of spirit both in male and female, certainly found Suftblk and Somerset more aftei VOL. I, u fia PRIVATE HISTORY OF Disappointed Ambition. her own heart, than the mild and pious Henry; whose every leisure hour was passed on his knees before a crucifix, or in supplications to the saints to give suc- cess to his arms. Without self-exertion, on all occasions, the saints are generally deaf; and he, to whom prayers should alone be addressed, commands us to make use of our own abilities, and improve the talent he has lent us, ere we can expect to prosper. Activity, on our part with implicit confidence in that favour, which is " alike good in all it grants, or all that it denies," will gain us more assistance from heaven, than all the monkish indo- lence of continued and outward acts of devotion. Margaret, seemingly successful in her disguise, was passing rapidly towards the coast, when, as she travelled in an open THE COURT OF EXGLAND. 21$ Disappohited Ambition. litter, hei' carriage past close to one in which rode the Duchess of York, who immediately recognised her. " I am lost ! " said th.e "^vretched Queen, to her fellow traveller. " The duchess has fix- ed her eves on me ; and I am convinced she knows us both. O Somerset ! surely my sex will gain some sympathy from the duchess ; especially when she recollects how often she has been thrown herself from the summit of that power she now possesses ; but oh ! it is for you I fear, the long inveterate, the sworn and de- termined foe of the house of York ! " '' Fear not for me, my queen," said Somerset, '' I will caiit myself on the mercy of the duchess." So saying, the brave man leaped from the litter, and pre- sented himself before her highness, while ^Margaret leaned over the side of her u 2 220 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Disappointed Ambition. travelling vehicle, holding her hat before her face. To the name of the Duchess of York the idea of philanthropy ever associated it- self ; and she now gave a magnanimous proof of it, in her conduct towards the unfortunate Queen Margaret. Affecting not to know the travellers, she said to Somerset, " Friend, your master looks very pale; I believe he is not well ; why did you stop your carriage? I would willingly have spared you this unnecessary homage ; proceed on your journey." This welcome injunction did not re- quire repeating a second time ; but, un- fortunately for Margaret, the duchess mentioned the incident, in confidence, to the Duchess of Clarence, i whose country seat lay contiguous to that spot where this circumstance took place. THE COURT OF EXGIAK'D. 221 Disappointed Ambition. The Duke of Clarence had sometimes, whether in jest or earnest is unknown, been heard to say, that he was sure he should one day be in possession of the throne of England; and, when the bowl was briskly circulated at the festive banquet, has declared his right to it to be equal with that of his brother Edward. This was rather a favourite theme in his conversa- tion. His brother of Gloucester had no children ; Edward's health was sometimes shaken by his intemperance ; while Clarence enjoyed that full possession of the first of earthly blessings, which appeared to bid de- fiance to all the attacks of midnight revelry or excess. His duchess fanned the flame of that ambition, which should raise her to the regal dignity ; but which, while the inde- fatigable Margaret lived, she knew, should w 5 S22 . PRIVATE HISTORY OF Disappointed Ambition. it devolve to them, could never be possess- ed with any degree of certainty. After the visit of her mother-in-law, she put her schemes in execution, to prevent the success of her royal opponent. She affected indisposition, during her stay, wdiich caused the Duchess of York to shorten her visit; and the young -duchess, then disguising herself in the dress of a maid servant entered a swift travelling litter, with only two attendants, and instantly took a different route to that of the fugitives, but arrived at that inn, nearly as soon as those she was in pursuit of, at which they would necessarily be obliged to put up, before they could em- bark on board any vessel that wag destined for France. \ In the above mentioned disguise, the blooQiing duchess, for the value of a few THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 223 Disappointed Anibition. marks, had the privilege of waiting on these illustrious and unsuspecting guests, who discoursed together in French, on the magnanimity of the Duchess of York. They then spoke of Edward ; he was not spared; his vices, his every foible was exaggerated by these partial artists. The Duke of Clarence was not painted by them in very alluring colours. His scenes of 'midnight riot, his low amours, were all depicted ; and his duchess, who, though in the flower of youth, was far from handsome, was spoken of with many an invidious sneer, and then thrown into the back ground, as too insignificant and disregarded a being, to occupy much place in the picture. The pique of female vanity finished what ambition had began; and the duchess quitted the room, and barricaded 224 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Disappointed Ambition . the door upon them. Then, throwing off her disguise, she sent for a party of officers, to seize her prisoners, as rebels to the state. Margaret, though severely disappoint- ed, was not depressed ; but, turning to the duchess, she said to her, " How true do you verify that maxim, that those who make it their business to listen to others, 7iever hear thei}' own praises. Margaret may yet triumph ; and the day may come, haughty bride of Clarence, when reduced to the situation you this day so volun- tarily and so awkwardly filled, that you may have to thank a queen, for having taught you how to arrange a desert in a pjoper manner." Little did the wretched duchess, who now triumphed over her unhappy enemy, know the deep anguish that was prepar- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 225 Disappointed Anihition. < — ing for herself, on her return to the capi- tal. Her lord, to whom she had been but a very short time ^vedded, was convicted, through treachery and accusations, most of them false, of treason ; her own for- tunes confiscated, and herself left in in- dicence. So true are the words of the poet, « Misfortune stands with licr bow ever bent " Over the world ; and he, who harms another, *' Directs the goddess in what part he wounds, <* There to strike deep the arrow in himself." Edward had now beo^an to feel himself firmly established ; and the acquisition of such a prisoner as Margaret was not of that importance, which it might heretofore have been. He therefore coldly compli- mented the duchess on her vigilance, S26 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Disappointed Ambition. and ordered her a trifling gratuity ; but re- mained inflexible to her supplications, for the release of h^r husband. Margaret was closely imprisoned, and Somerset ordered for immediate execution. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 227 A Cha.ige of Ministry. CHAP. XVIII. A CHANGE OF 3IINISTRY, I have watched the night, Ay, night by night in studying good for England. It grieves many ;" The gentleman is learn'd, a most rare speaker ; To nature none more bound. SHAKESPEARK THE intriguing French monarch, now incited the king of Scotland to declare ■war against England.* This weak prince lived on bad terms with his own nobility, and his force was unequal to his intended Q2B PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Change of Ministi^. enterprise ; so that, when he was about to enter England, the English attacked him with superior force, and, the barons con- spiring against the Scottish monarch's favourites, the army was disbanded. The Duke of Albany entered Scotland with a powerful army, took Berwick, and obliged the Scots to resign their fort- resses. This success emboldened the En polish to carry on the war with France with additional vigour. But death, as if his petrifying dart was levelled at the firmest support of Eng- land's throne, now shook it, in triumph, over the sick couch of the unparalleled and illustrious Cobham, as his destined prey. Britannia drooping, hung her head, and mourned at the fated departure of the greatest genius, aided by the most exalted and patriotic virtue, her favoured island THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 229 A Change of Ministry. had ever produced. Cobham died, as he had lived, anxious only for that counti'y he had preserved, by the wisdom of his councils, the depth of his reasoning, and that profound knowledge of her internal and political system, Avhich had enabled him so long and so successfully to guide her through the storm of intestine fac- tion, and all the horrors of a foreign war with a treacherous and sanguinary enemy. Britain, enriched by his superior wis- dom, by the calculation of her finances, saved by his prudence, and upheld by his courage, flourished in the midst of an arduous and expensive war, and towered over her enemies in splendour, wealth, and power. Like a skilful '' Pilot WEATHERING THE STORM," he brought her in safe from all the rocks and quick- VOL. I. X ^30 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Change of Miitistry. sands, which had once well nigh pre- cipitated her into the threatening gulph beneath. Exhausted nature sunk, at length, un- der those accumulated efforts, which were above mortality to surmount, and she fell under them ; while the last breath that quivered on his lips faulteringly ut- tered, " Alas 1 my country!" When this great man's body was opened, his brain and heart were the only inward parts that were found en- tire. How emblematic of the inheritor of those sublime qualities, which actuated his heart and head ! Courage and VIRTUE preserved the former in its own native firmness; and wisdom, whieh bids defiance to decay, and flourishes through succeeding ages, situated aloft in her '' throne, the brain," decreed that Cob- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 231 A Change of Ministry. ham's, her chosen seat, should mark, by its sanctity, the stability of her king- dom. True is that maxim which says, we know not the value of any good, till it k no longer within our reach. Many, now convinced of the worth of Cobham, and yet who had formerly wished to behold Lovelace at the head of affairs, mourned bitterly for the loss of England's truest and ablest support. They dreaded the threatened success of his opponents, and trembled at the idea of seeing them in- vested with power. However, the fears of the people were but too soon verified, and a new parlia- ment was composed, chiefly of those men, who had had the misguidance of Edward's youth ; among which Lovelace held a dis- tinguished office. That virtuous parHa- X 2 . ^32 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Chaiiaje of Ministry. ment, which had stood for so long a time under Edward's excellent father, were now all out of place ; which was filled up by men, who sought not the good of their country, like Cobham, but only how to fill their own coffers, give ex- pensive entertainments, and lay the nation under fresh taxes and contributions to support their own unbounded extrava- gance. The parliament are generally w illing to promote a French war; but Margaret, being a Frenchwoman, some of the Lancastrian party clamoured for peace. This, by a majority of voices would have been deemed dishonourable at this crisis of affairs, and new taxes were levied for carrying on the war with fresh alacrity. A * tenth of every one's rent was paid, * See Hume's reign of Edward IV. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 233 A Chantie of Ministry. and an inventory of every person's good's produced; which was very distressing and humiliating to the people at large, "as by that means every person's w^ealth was not only much diminished, but exposed, — and many a fair daughter remained a burthen on an industrious parent, who had fondly hoped her merits might obtain her a deserving husband. But, as in the pre- sent day, few brides were desirable with- out money. In ail ages we find Cupid requires his arrows to be tipped with gold, before he dare lead his votaries to the altar of Hymen. The new ministry, however, in spite of all their want of penetration, soon dis- covered the treachery of the Duke of Burgundy. He had concluded a kind of treaty with England, which he treacher- X 3 ^34 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Change of Ministry. ■*. ously brok^, and shewed himself the sub- jected vassal of the king of France. Lovelace, in a most eloquent and spirited speech, deprecated his meanness, and stimulated the English to revenge his perfidy. This gained Lovelace many friends from the party |of the Yorkists. But his energy appeared to be the mere froth and gasconade of the moment ; he still cherished his party principles, and was the fixed friend of the French and the Lancastrians. The English, convinced that the Duke of Burgundy had shamefully broke tlirough his treaty with them, determined to have no farther alliance with him; since they found he had treacherously corresponded with the French king, andi it w^as disco- vered that a mutual compact was made be- tween these two artful monarchs, neither THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 235 A Change of Ministry to make peace with England, without the consent of each other. Weak and wicked as was the Duke of Burgundy, he was a fit tool in the hands of the intriguing ruler of France, to enable him to carry on the war with England ; although, in order the better to facilitate his plans against this country, he was endeavouring to negotiate a peace, through the favour of the new ministry. A burial of the utmost magnificence, wherein was combined every grandeur that funeral pomp could display, was now the last token of deep regret which could be shewn by a mourning nation for that illustrious mortal, whose talents seemed more than mortal, and which were never equalled in past or present ages — the wise and virtuous Cob ham, who united to all tlie depth of learning those shiniag abili- 236 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Change of Ministry. ties, which bounteous nature, at his birth, had bestowed upon him. Grace, elocu- tion, and dignity accompanied his language in the senate and in private life. Wedded to his country alone, he was her protector and defender, in dangers the most trying, and most unheard of. When totterins; on the verge of ruin, by the threatened down- fal of her throne, amidst the dissensions of party, he, by efforts almost supernatu- ral, raised her up, and established the house of his lawful monarch. By his po- litical skill and knowledge, he saw through all the plots of a treacherous foreign enemy, and opposed his wonderful powers against the machinations of all Europe. He raised an everlasting bulwark for En- gland, in the wise disposition of her army and navy ; enriched her finances, and in- creased her commerce, amidst all tlie ra- vages of war. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. Q37 A Change of xMinistrv- Though Edward owed to his exertions all that he possessed, it was remarked by many, w ith concern, that he did not attend his funeral. The Duke of Gloucester, whose political genius was far superior to the rest of his brothers, and who, though he had once been the companion of Love- lace, had now quitted his society, con- scious who w^ere the only real friends to the house of York, was therefore a sorrowing mourner in the solemn proces- sion that composed the funeral of Cob- HAM. The Lord-mayor of London, a man of superior abilities, was heard, at these mournful obsequies, to weep audibly , aud, as he beheld the last sad reliques deposited in the dreary tomb, he sobbed out, '* Oh, England ! thy firmest support is gone for ever !" ^38 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Change of Ministi'y. The Bishop of London was the most enhghtened and learned prelate of the age he lived in ; and was an ornament to lite- rature, to the church, and state. In reli- gion he was guided by truth alone, while his moral life was an ornament to his profession : sacredly pure, yet free from.^ all austerity. The firm friend of virtue, he pitied the vicious, and strove to draw them, by the gentlest and most persuasive means, from the path of vice, and gra- dually lead them on to virtue. Cobham, from his youth, had been his cherished friend. The love of his country animated the heart of the bishop ; and an ardent desire to see him, who was to be the ruler of that country, all that was great and good. That excellent heart was therefore pained at beholding the in- fluence a bigoted woman held over the THE COURT OF ENGLAND. Q39 A Change of Ministry. mind of his prince ; while a princess, famed for her virtues and moderation, was set at nought, and the alliance of her country consequently despised. He had for some time absented himself from court, dis- gusted with the mixture he there found of frivolity and injustice. He had long es- teemed Warwick for his many virtues, had mourned over the errors of that no- bleman; errors, which were the result of Edward's misconduct. The pangs of the good bishop's bosom, w^hen Warwick was slain, can only be imagined by those who are obliged, through patriotic love, to consider the death of a dearly-valued friend, though a severe loss to an indivi- dual, yet a blessing to a nation. But when Cobham's cold ashes were laid in their sepulchral abode, the worthy prelate lost not only a private friend and MO PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Change of Ministry. companion, but him who was, at that tim.e, England's hope and saviour. Pale with grief, his venerable head sunk droop- ing on his bosom, as he contemplated his grave ; and these, his memorable words, yet remain on record: — " The last sad office is now over ! There lie the remains of the greatest man that ever lived !" THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 241 Power superior to Justice. CHAP. XIX, POWER SUPERIOR TO JUSTICE. Can you think, lords, That any Englishman dare give counsel Against his highnesses pleasure. Though he be grown so desperate to be honest ? SHAKESPEARE, AS the age became more enlightened, reformation appeared to be gaining ground. Many outward absurdities in devotion began to be laid aside ; and seve- ral ventured openly to profess their dis- senting principles . from the church of Rome. Amongst the disciples of Wickliffe, VOL. I. Y ^42 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Power superior to Justice. were a baron and his lady, of the name of De Somerville, descended from an an- cient Norman family. Lady De Somer- ville and Lady Elizabeth Grey had been friends from their earliest youth; but, un- like the faithful Moabitess, that said to her beloved mother-in-law, " Your God shall be my God, &c." each of these la- dies, though they loved each other with sisterly affection, persisted, unchanged, in their different ideas of religion. The Baron de Somerville died of a malignant fever, but a few months before his wife, leaving her an only daughter, which Lady Elizabeth G rey loved as her own. When Ladv de Somerville was on her death bed, she presented the little charge to her friend ; saying — " Oh, my Eliza- beth! dear companion of my youth! to THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 243 Power superi(M' to Justice. you I bequeath this treasure. No one will love her like you, when I am no more. In you she will find a second mother." Lady Elizabeth, immediately on the death of its only surviving parent, took the child to her house ; and, during the early period of childhood, the surviving relatives indulged her in tlie pleasure of performing the office of friendship she so maternally fulfilled, in compliance with the injunctions of her dying friend. Ail the remaining kindred of Lady de Somer- ville were, however, sincerely attached to the reformed religion ; and, as the child became capable of reasoning, they did all in their power to detach her from a bigoted Catholic. But the young Lady Elwina de Somerville loved her nominal mother with sincere affection, and could y 2 £44 PRIVATE HISTORY O^ Power superior to Justice. not endure the thoughts of a separa- tion. Her relations, though powerful by their alliances, and the ample fortunes they possessed, were yet not strong enough to gain their cause against the known fa- vourite, and almost acknowledged wife, of Edward ; who, himself, came forward to urge the validily and importance of a death-bed injunction. In vain was the plea of that religion alleged, which the dying Lady de Somerville had urged all who surrounded her couch in her dying moments to be careful, as they expected the blessing of Heaven, to instil into the mind of her child, in all the principles of that simple purity which she herself had professed during her life, i How could this important task be fulfilled, while con- tinually in the habit of witnessing super- stitious rites, the most ^ross and absurd, THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 245 Power superior to Justice. practised by her beloved protectress? w iose every action, aocompanied with dig- nity and beauty, could not fail of appear- ing amiable in the eyes of her grateful little charge. The virtue of her mother, immaculate as new fallen snow, entreated her friend to teach her daughter the highest reve- rence for female chastity; and to look on it as the greatest ornament a female can boast. " How then,"* said one of her spirited friends, in the House of Peers, " can she be in love w ith this most valuable jewel, when she, to whom she is to look up, as the guide and guardian of her tender years, lives the distinguished mistress of a mighty prince, who is already betrothed to another r" But vain were all the pleadings of Lady Y 3 §46 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Power superior to Justice. Elwina's relations. The Cardinal of Win- chester, ever the firm defender of Lady Elizabeth Grey, now came forward, and, drawing over a number of lords to his party, who wished to gain the favour of Edward, and having also the new ministry on his side, the Lady Elwina was ad- judged, during her minority, to remain under the guardianship of Lady EHzabeth Grey. Exhausted with the pressure of public affairs, and the effects of his many irregu- larities in early life ; Lovelace, whose abi- lities and intrigues, in political and do- mestic circles, had rendered him the theme of every conversation, and whose present important situation in the ministry made him regarded with a mixture of fear and hope, was attacked with a disorder which seemed to baffle the skill of tlie THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 247 Power superior to Justice. ablest physicians, but which, in their nu- merous consultations, they generally agreed must soon prove fatal to him. But no one dared to tell Edward of the danger of his beloved friend. They as- sured the prince that his indisposition was but trifling; and that retirement, for a short time, from the fatigues of state busi- ness, would, soon restore him ; while they counselled him to suffer Lord Howard, who was of the same principles ^\ith Lovelace, though without his abilities, to fill the office which he held, until his re- covery, Edward, now triumphing in the exalta- tion of his favourites, and fancying him- self secure from all dissensions at home, that might endanger his crown, gave way to the natural bent of his mind — the love of pleasure ; and again wooed dissipation ^48 PRIVATE HISTORY OF Power superior to Justice! " in every form. Devoted to Lady Eliza- beth alone, amongst women, he built for her a sumptuous pavilion; a fairy palace of art and elegance; and, while the nation was drained of its wealth to support the ^xpences of civil and of foreign wars ; while a loyal people distressed themselves, by giving up a part of their substance, to support their prince, and pay the debts contracted through his prodigahty; while modest worth and merit pined in indi- gence, " and poor misfortune felt the lash of vice ;" he caused a stable to be erected, equal in gorgeous expence to that of ivory, which was built by the Emperor Caligula. Tho§e barbarous times of cruelty and op- pression were not free from the shafts of ridicule ; and the wits and witlings of the age, as they revelled at the ' banquet, would give round their flowing cups, THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. 249 Power superior to Justice. '^ To the princely stable and the favourite " Grci/ mare :" the old and trite maxim of such being the better horse, was long " prior to those days ; and was applicable to the woman who completely governed the prince. And well might they compare their Edward's establishment to a stable, while ridiculing his expence, who passed his inebriate moments in the low company of horse dealers, prize-fighters, mimics, and buffoons. The Princess Bona still continued to pine in obscurity : a deserted mistress, a bride affianced and neglected, no other prince could seek her in marriage. The tears she shed in solitude were supposed, by her enemies, to flow for the unfortunate "Warwick ; and whenever she went into public, a momentary gaiety was construed into apathy, or the pleasing prospect of 250 T^lYATE HISTORY OF i ' ■ ' ■ - ,1 ' .. . ■ . .. :- Til, Power superior to Justice. having made some new conquest. Thus the most virtuous of her sex was stigma- tized with the character of a female libertine. This cruel calumny having reached her ^ars, she submitted to an impartial public a defence, which, from party intrigues, we are sorry to say, is irrecoverably lost : for Edward, aided by his female mentor, entirely suppressed its publication. The confessor of Lady Elizabeth, bribed by the golden lure which she held out to him, and which was to be the reward of his artful machinations, contrived to urge fresh reasons for Edward's aversion to the princess. No art was left untried to blacken her character, traduce her per- sonal charms, depreciate l^er exalted vir- tue, and call her moral purity, the effect of native coldrxss or consummate hypo- crisy. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 251 Power superior to Justice. Edward, who never really loved her, was now become too much the infatuated slave of Lady Elizabeth Grey, and his mind too much vitiated, by continued licentiousness, to harbour a virtuous at- tachment. As years rolled over his head, the nation saw, with heartfelt sorrow, no hopes of that reform, which they vainly flattered themselves midit succeed to tlie o ardent season of youth. The alienation of their affection became the result : 2tod tlie young, though deep penetrating and thouujhtful Earl of Richmond, built his virtuous foundation on the vices and follies of the house of York. ^52 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Character. CHAP. XX. A CHARACTER. From liis cradle he was a scholar, And a ripe and good one ; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them who lovM him not. But. to those men that sought him. Sweet as summer. • SHAKESPEARE. HENRY, Earl of Richmond, after- wards Henry VII. had full right, accord- ing to the claims of Lancaster, by his mother's side, to the English throne. When yet a youth, he had captivated the affections of Henry VI. ; who, it is said> th£ court of englan^d. 253 A Chaiacter. had solemnly blessed the lad, and prophe- sied that it was he who should restore peace and unanimity to the wrangling houses of York and Lancaster. The young Richmond certainly evinced a profundity of wisdom, unusual at his early age ; and, self-advised and deeply contemplating, had pondered over his claims, and found his title to the crown was equally legal ^vith that of the prede- cessors of his family. He was in a direct line from her, the celebrated and beauteous French princess, Katharine, who had been espoused to the sweetest prince England could ever boast, the darling of the sol diery, that scourge and conqueror ot France, Henry V. Katherine, after she had become a widow, married a private Welch gentleman of the name of Tudor, roL. I. z 254 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Char acter. and Henry, Earl of Richmond^ was her grandson by this second marriage. Of a serious and reflective turn of mind, he studied the character of a people, that he was one day destined to govern. He saw their prevaiHng fault was, the love of money ; he, therefore, determined, if ever he enjoyed the throne of his ances- tors, to make it his first care to enrich the kingdom, as well as his own coffers. Un- addicted to those expensive pleasures, which, while they impoverish the posses- sor, render him unfit for public business, he calculated to a nicety those means, whereby a nation may increase its reve- nues, and become, in a manner, the bank of the whole world. ;- Accustoming himself early to study human nature,. in all its mutability, he be- held that proneness in an English charac^ THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 255 A Character. ter, to discover the mote in a brother's eye, while a beam of magnitude obscured their own ; and, so far from really possess- ing that firmness, for which, from the exalted and determined character of d. few individuals, they had been erroneously famed, they were the most ready, of any people in the world, to be led astray by the force of example. Ever wavering, except in one respect, the fixed love of accumulating wealth ; knowing how easily it procured them access in the higher circles ; they eagerly adopted every ridi- culous custom, and every fashionable vice, for which their superiors, in rank, might be celebrated. The higher, then, the elevation of any one, this wise prince justly considered, so nmch the more con- spicuous should be his moral conduct. z 21 ^56 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Character. If he avoided expence and show, his sub- jects might brand him with the fault of avarice. He heeded it *not. To follow their prince's example, it would render them more careful of that wealth which would enrich the country ; and enable him, by drawing a small part from them, by moderate taxes, to carry on those foreign wars which might be necessary to ensure the safety of his throne, and for- ward his commercial interests. By an unaffected regard to his religious duties ; by being the faithful husband of one wife ; and by avoiding to retain about his court and person, intriguing mistresses or merce- nary favourites; he would set an example of moral rectitude. And if England, by such a conduct in her prince and people, was not so delighted and joyous as a nation, she would, at least, become tranquil and content. THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 257 A Character. Cool, determined, and resolute, he possessed all the qualifications requisite to render him a distinguished warrior. Chaste and temperate, his hardy consti- tution enabled him cheerfully to endure those privations, which the most rigid abstinence might, in the hard chances of war, inflict upon him. Patient under suf- ferings, though indignant of affronts ; his courage, aided by his deliberation, prompt- ed him to resent any injury with spirit and resolution, without descending to the rash and ungentlemanlike conduct of a blind and savage revenge. No one knew so well how to draw the proper line between the virtues and those vices which are ever attached to them. His determined con- duct was, therefore, devoid of obstinacy ; his courage from rashness ; his ardour in 7. 3 S58 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Character. battle from cruelty ; his abstinence from rigidity ; his gravity from rnqroseness ;. ^^d his religion from enthusiasir^ or fanpr tip hypocrisy. Resolved to piaintain his just rights, or expire in the field of honour, he was pos- sessed of that undaunted valour, so neces- sary to the character of a true soldier; while he studied, during his minority, be- fore his great talents weve called into action, that theory, and those stratagepris of \var, which form and distinguish a great and renowned general. With all these warlike qualifications, he well knew there was nothing promoted ' the happiness and welfare of a commer^ cial nation, like England, so much as peace ; but if that peace was not honoi;r- able for her, it was never likely to be either permanent or happy. If once he could see her settled on the fixed basis of THE COURT OF ENGLAND. Q59 A Character. a peace, which had the appearance of being lasting, it was his settled proposal tp send a few hardy adventurers on the dis-' coveries of distant lands ; increase th« wealth of the kingdom, and extend it^ commerce, by establishing colonies abroad. Histoiy shews us how well he performed this wise resolution, when he came to the throne : for the following places were disr covered during his reign,-r-The Cape of Good Hope; the East Indies ; Florida; Jamaica ; Porto Ilico ; Trinidad ; New^ foundland ; and the island qf ]\Iadagas- car. He resolved also on proirioting arts and learning at home, by every encouragement and reward : and, though he has been un- justly represented as an avaricious prince, no expence was spared by him to promote the interests and welfare of his countiy- ^6'0 PRIVATE HISTORY OF ~~^ A Character. He lavished not his money on sensual pleasures, nor to gratify the vices and caprice of a few favoured minions ; but he enriched his kingdom, rendered it flourishing and happy, and left it in all the comforts and enjoyments of commer- cial ease ; and continually improving in arts and learning. To what a perfection the architectural art had become in his reign, that beautiful monument of it serves to prove, the chapel in Westminster abbey, built in his time, called Henry the Vllth's chapel. To the height that learning had arrived, his own son gave a convincing proof; who, in regard to mental accomplishments, was the most skilled in literature and polite acquirements, of any prince that had before swayed the English sceptre. But the whole study of Henry the Vllth THE COURT OF ENGLANB. 26»1 ; a.i , ■ ■ ". ■ . .■ " .,,■,■,., A Character. in his pupilage, seems to have had but one end ip view ; and that actuated by the pfiost glorious of all emulation — to be- come OXE DAY, A GREAT AND GOOD KlXG ! When such principles as he was pos- sessed of, united themselves to the deepest political abilities ; and in that unison op- posed their unrivalled force against th^ futility, licentiousness, and prodigality, which tarnished all the virtues of the branches of the house of York ; it is not to be wondered at, that an over-ruling power should favour the design, in which the happiness and welfare of nations, yet unborn, was so materially concerned. In the perusal of history, the world, in general, are too apt to attend to a partial character given by, perhaps, an offended monkish writer, where the king was not 26^ PitlVATE HISTORY OP A Character. blindly attached to the outward mummies of popery : or a puritanical reformist, who beheld no benign or moral duties in a prince, because he strictly followed the religion of his ancestors. The eye, as it glances over the pages of history, should carefully avoid being dazzled by the glit- ter of a superficial character ; and, while it delights to dwell on facts alone, let it observe how a nation is rendered happy, how little or how much it is oppressed, before it shuts itself on a prince's vices or virtues, to follow the opinions of a par- tial historiographer. Writers who depreciate Henry VII. can find no vices in him but parsimony and the fear of losing his crown. He was obliged to be parsimonious; he found the kingdom wretchedly poor, he le^t it, the seat of wealth and honour ! THE COURT OF EXGLAXD. 263 A Character, His vigilance in preserving a crown, which sat but loosely on his head, has been stigmatized with the appellation of the fear of losing it. No ! he had oained it ; and determined to preserve his right to it, against enemies of the York party, who determined, if possible, to pluck it from his brow ; and his own wife, and her mother, were the most inveterate of his enemies, and the most inclined to de- throne him. He has been blamed for his severity to the mother, and his want of affection to the daughter. The Queen Dowager was a plotting, ambitious wo- man, who stirred up various impostors to hurl Richmond from that throne he had so courageously obtained. In such despotic times, the king could not be blamed for confining her, when disco- vered, in a convent; for life. Nor could 264 PRIVATE HISTORY OP A Character. he possibly feel affection for that wife, who eagerly entered into every plot against him: whom he had married in part, from political, though from laudable motives, chiefly to prevent a farther effu- sion of blood between two families, whom it is difficult to pronounce, which had the first and greatest claim to the throne of England. This digression from the ptesent plan of this History, we hope, will be pardoned. The follies and vices of Edward, only rendered Richmond more awake to im- prove his own conduct ; and to raise him- self to that regal power he, perhaps, would not otherwise have thought of. A great author has justly remarked, that the worst prospects often end in the fairest realities \ and, by Richmond laying the plmi of unit- ing the houses of York and Lancast#i h6 ,^j«- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 2^5 A Character. laid the foundation of England's happi- ness. While a nation mourned the fol- lies of one prince, and the crimes of his successor's short reign ; a monarch was in store ay ho would bring wealth, wisdom, and splendor to a grateful peo- ple ; who would extend her dominions, and leave her in peace and affluence. — ' Thus often is it proved, that, *' The 'w-ays o'f heavoi are dark and intricate, '' Puzzled vith mazes, and perplex'd with errors 3 ** Our understanding searches them in vain, « Kor sees witli how much art the windings tnra, *< Nor where the, regular confusion ends." vol. I. A a 9^66 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Mystery. CHAP. XXL A MYSTERY. She mores a goddess, and ^he loolis a queen. pope's homer. THE abbess of a nunnery, in the county of Suffolk, had a near relation who belonged to the female part of the Duchess of York's houshold. The abbess, falling sick, was permitted to quit her se- clusion for a time, to try (phange of air, and to avail herself of the advice of emi- nent physicians, residing near the metro- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 267 A Mystery. polls. She frequently made excursions to the Tower, to visit her kinswoman, who had apartments in the palace; and so charmed the mother of Edward, by the polished ease and elegance of her man- ners, that she would frequently stop to converse with her, and was much gratified by the refined sense the abbess displayed, and the profundity of unaffected learning ivhich she discovered. One day the duchess requested her to grant her half an hour's private 'conversa- tion; when, after some hesitation, and very visible agitation of mind, the royal mother of Edward addressed her religious guest as follows : '^ I am about to confide to you, Ma- dam, a charge of the utmost importance^ I have, upon enquiry, found that you A a £ ^6S PRIVATE HISTORY OF " A Mystery. take pensioners into your convent, to re- ceive their education." The abbess bowed assent, and the du- chess continued. " In a remote apartment of this tower, is a beautiful child^, dear to this heart, as though she w^ere my own. I take the sole care of her present education ; her fu- ture fortune heaven only knows! Her birth " Here the duchesspaused. " But why," uttered she hastily, and with some confusion, " should I tr^at you with half confidence ?'* *' Rest assured," said the abbess, " whatever confidence your highness may think me worthy of, will never, in the smallest instance, be abused." THE COURT OF EXGLAK"!). 269 A Mystery. •' I believe you/' said the duchess. '^ Know, then, that her birth is not only noble, but royal ; and that my angel hus- band, as the last breath quivered on hi^ lips, faulteringly pronounced a blessing on his beloved Elfrida, then a helpless babe. Ah ! 3^ou know not the pangs the birth of that child has given to this heart, that loves her, if possible, w ith more than ma- ternal tenderness. i\Iy beloved Richard, it is true, regarded her with the fondest par- tiality ; but MY VERY SOUL sccms wrap- ped up in her, and her fate seems so in- terwoven A^ith my own, and so entvvined is she round my dearest affections, that all other ties, which bind us to each other, appear cold and deadened, when thought dwells on her as its object." Here the duchess wept; but soon A a 3 270 PRIVATE HISTORY OF - - - . ^ My stery. ^ _^ recovering herself, resumed her dis- co iirse. " I said, my dear lady abbess, that I would not treat you with half confidence ; yet I dare say no more in what relates to the little Elfrida; and I must desire you to observe, that, though educated in a nunnery, it is never my intention that she should take the veil. But I know not to whom I can confide the care of her edu-. cation, which must be of rather a singular kind, excepting to you, who know so well^ from the superior understanding and talents which you possess, to accord di^^^ nity with humility; and to inculcate a taste for grandeur with an habitual oeconomy, which, perhaps, must be observed in fu- ture necessity." The abbess, who saw that the educatiQa TUK COURT OF ENGLAND. 271 A Mvstcrv. of this royal protege would be rather an arduous undertaking, said, " Your high- ness is pleased to over-rate my poor abi- lities, and " '' Oh !'' said the duchess, interrupting her^ " object not, I beseech you, to my request. To you alone, to j^our pruden- tial (^are, can I entrust this lovely blos- som, and the fmishing of that education which hitherto I have taken the charge of, but which, from various concurring cir- cumstances, and from want of ability in some matters, I am unable to finish. Be- sides, her health may be injured in the concealment I find it necessary to observe on her account ; and her mind may be- come morose by a seclusion from society. 1 have observed her character with that precision which I wish you to adopt. 572 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Mystery. iMajesty seems inherent in her; she moves with pecuHar dignity ; and, while her heart seems generous and compassionate, pride appears so predominant a feature in her disposition, that it greatly alarms me.' I wish her never to know who she really is; and yet, if, by your wise instructions, that pride could properly be kept in due bounds, I would desire her by no means to imagine herself descended from obscure or ignoble parents. Yet, oh! she must conquer this haughtiness of deportment;, for she will not be rich. Therefore, while you educate her to possess every elegant and brilliant accomplishment, she must be ^ taught every houshold duty, every plan of oeconomy in domestic concerns. This part of education I am little ade- quate to ; but the lay sisters of your con- vent must carefully attend to her im- THE COUHT OF £NGLA!^D. ^JS A Mystery. provement in those offices, which we, by birth and foolish prejudice, are too apt to think menial and degrading. Teach her, then, my dear madam, to unite the cha- racter of the high-born gentlewoman with that of the meritorious and diligent house- wife : for what her future lot in life may J&e, I know not. Oh ! if she should eve*' rise, acknowledged, to that pinnacle of earthly grandeur she is born to ; then will all the high accomplishments you shall teach her, make her shine in those circles^ which will derive their consequence from her presence. Should that descent of fate attend her, which I dare not shew myself too strenuous to avert from her ; should her future lot in life be only that of the wife of an honest and plain English yeoman, then will her industry and oeco- nomy, while I will take care, living or 274 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Mystery. dying, to insure her the bare comforts of life, procure her a comfortable and easy competency in obscurity ; in which state, perhaps, is found more real happiness tlian we, who glitter, envied in a court, can ever enjoy. "The re-establishment of my health, madam," said the Abbess, " and the' ardent desire I feel, again to enter on the important duties of my profession, will oblige me to quit London to-morrow, for my conventual abode." " If you go to day," replied the duchess, with quickness, " Elfrida is ready, and shall accompany you.'* '' I will call to-morrow, if your highness pleases," replied the Abbess, " and take your valued charge with me." THE COURT OF ENGLAND. Q75 A Mystery. " She henceforth becomes your's," said the duchess, " and to know her, is to value her ! Farewell ! till to-morrow, then." And she quitted the apartment, bathed in tears. The next morning the Abbess went to the tower; and was struck, beyond her most ardent imagination, at the sight of Elfrida. A lovely, sylph-like form glid- ed into the room; but with such an air of majesty, that seemed to claim a voluntary homage from all who beheld her. Her age appeared to have hardly told eleven years. Tall, and not too slen- der, grace and dignity gave an inexpress- ible charm to all her movements. Health and beauty bloomed on her cheek ; and a profusion of flaxen ringlets played round ^76 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Mystery. a face, which interested and inspired with respect all who beheld it. Her remarkable likeness to the family of York, gave the Abbess ample testi- mony of her being very nearly related to it. Yet she did not think her the daughter of him, who was his mother's darling, the highly favoured Edward ; for she was less like him than any one of the family. Besides he entered the room, looked at Elfrida with, by no means, a parental fondness, but with frigid insen- sibility; and, with a supercilious sneer, he thus addressed his mother. . " SOj madam, you have then, at length, brought yourself to the wise resolution of parting with this, your proud little minion/' '* Proud 1 echoed the little Elfrida, THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 9.11 A Mystery. " I may be allowed some pride; for there are kings, who hold their thrones on a yery uncertain tenure, and yet they are proud ! " The Abbess was astonished at the quickness of this answer in so young a child, and rather judged it to be a lesson that had been previously given her ; and the turn of several expressions Elfrida continued to make use of, made her imagine her, to be some unacknow- ledged offspring of the house of Lancas- ter. But, then, her likeness to the family of York, and the great interest the duchess took in her fate, soon exploded that idea. She had little time to indulge in re^ flection ; for, turning to look on Ed- ward, she beheld his fine countenance VOL. I. 3 b 278 PRiyATE HISTORY OF A Mystei-y. disfigured by rage, and in a voice, al- most unintelligible with passion, he thus addressed his mother : " See, madam, howly wise you have acted ! how w ell you have preserved the secret intrusted to 30U, by divulging the hio;h birth of her, who should have been the last to have heard of it." This Elfrida did not hear, having been drawn to the window, to observe the guards, of the palace who were performing their military exercise. " My son," said the Duchess of York, mildly addressing him, in a foreign lann-uao-e, " I know not where she has learnt it ; never from me ; and very few, excepting myself, ever see her. My time has always been employed in those hours I devoted to her educa- THE COURT OF ENGLAND. *279 A Mystery. tion, in checking that pride, which I perceive to be her most predominant foible." " Pardon my haste, madam," said the prince, respectfully bowing on the hand he took in his ; " your tongue, the sure herald of truth, never can utter a word that will be discredited by me." A close-covered litter now entered the court yard ; and, with many tears and fre- quent embraces, the duchess took leave of her lovely protege. " Farewell, my dear protectress, my more than mother," said the weeping Elfrida, " farewell! when shall we meet again ? " Oh soon, very soon, I faithfully pro- mise you, my beloved treasure." said the duchess. B b 2 SSO PRIVATE HISTORY OF i. ... . ' ■ ' -■■ A Mystery. ' an^-j.— J - ' ' ■ , - :^^=^ " A week will not elapse," said Edward, smiling, "my good J^ady Abbess, before you will behold my mother at the gate of your convent, looking after her lit- tle stray lamb — well, God bless you, Elfrida." " My dear, kind duchess, the only mo- ther I ever knew, has always told me," said Elfrida, " that I must love my ene- mies, and God bless you, sir, though I believe you are mine." " You should say, my liege,'' said one of the lords in waiting, who stood at the open door, which led to the great stair case, " when you speak to the king." " Never to that king, my lord," said Elfrida, with determined dignity. The Abbess lamented secretly the THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 281 A Mystery. trust that had been reposed in her. What shall I do, thought she, with this haughty and resohite child? But they had not proceeded half way on their journey, before her pupil had made a deep interest in her bosom, by the sweetness of her manners, the just- ness of her remarks, so superior to her years, and that candour and benignity, which were so happily blended ^vith in- nate dignity. Arrived at the interior of the nunnery, Sister Agatha, a talkative though excel- lent' hearted nun, and who enjoyed all the unlimited confidence of her friend, the abbess, cried out, at the sight of the child— ^^ Holy Saint iMaryl Why, who have you got there? Is it the young Coun- tess de Hainault, risen from the grave? B b 3 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A Mystery. Whjjishe is as like to her as these two ringlets are to each other," continued she, twisting her fingers in the flowing hair of Elfrida, who looked at the nun with contempt; for her appearance w^as neither prepossessing nor clean, from the quantity of snufF she constantly took, and said to her, with quickness, drawing away her head, " Do you know who I am?" " No, my pretty dear," said Agatha; " But I would venture to lay a good sum, if I had it, that either the Duchess of Burgundy, or the sweet Countess de Hainault w^as '* " Peace!" said the abbess; the last words of Sister Agatha having awakened an idea which had not occured to her be- fore. "See that dinner is prepared in the refectory, and attend me afterwards THE COURT OF ENGLAND. S83 A iNIystery. in my cell; and there I will teach you, if I can possibly accomplish such an hydra- like labour, how necessary it is for you to hold your tongue, as far as in what relates to the young pensioner 1 have brought home with me." Agatha, who adored the superior, though she found to be silent, on any oc- casion, was a very difficult task, yet reli- giously kept herself so in regard to what- ever misht throw the least light on the birth of this extraordhiary child; to whom, however, in spite of the Duchess of York's vigilance, somebody about the palace had been imprudent enough to impart all that could add to her natural pride, while they had concealed those ob- stacles which would, infallibly, prevent her from shining in tUat high sphere, for 284 PRIVATE HISTORY OF A M ystery. which they fondly imagined her to be de- signed. The good natured Agatha could never endure to see her employed in making up linen for the nunnery, or in preparing cakes and confections for their gala days ; but used to keep her close by her, while she performed those lower offices; and would employ Elfrida in the more ho- nourable avocation of gilding a crown for Saint Catherine, or adorning the image of the Virgin \*:ith wreaths of flowers. The linen was found to be sewed very neat, the flavour of the sweetmeats was extolled, while Agatha enjoyed the praises bestowed on the blushing Elfrida ; whose mind, being the seat of real dignity, could no longer support those applauses which she was conscious she did not merit, and THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 285 A Mystery. insisted on performing every task that was allotted her. By degrees her hauteur wore off, and a sweet and dignified affa- bility took place of it. When first she went to the convent, in her little altercations with her compa- nions, she would say — " You know not whom you offend !" This pride Agatha constantly fed, by saying — " No, that they do not, or they would not dare to do it." But, as she grew older, her thoughtful mind, pondering on the wise counsels of the abbess, saw how little advantage was to be derived from a splendid birth, where w^ant of fortune, and an oversha- dowing mystery, appeared as barriers to future dignity. In the abbess she saw a wise and 286 PRIVATE HISTORY OF . A Mystery. maternal friend ; and, though she loved Agatha for the goodness of her heart, and for her sincere affection towards her, yet she beheld her ignorant, the slave of prejudice, and of supersti- tion. Spirit, and tempered dignity, had now succeeded to childish petulance ; and her youthful vivacity was so checked by a kind of serious majesty in her deport: ment, that it overawed her companions, and took from them the power or the wish to offend her. The affection of the abbess increased for her every day; while the Duchess of York, peculiarly happy in having placed her with so excellent a monitress, en- dowed the nunnery with rich gifts, and increased its revenues. Unchanged in THE COURT OF ENGLAND. 287 A Mystery. her affection to her amiable and inte- resting protege, she beheld her, each time, with added delight, and separated from her, after their frequent meetings, with the keenest regret. END OF VOL. I. T. Plummcr, Printer, Seething-Lan«. "NIVER8ITY OF ILLIN0I8-URBANA 3 0112 046411994 Jmt piihliskeii, POL.KKT ( aZET'J'EKH E;\, ,)';--. o: ''Iv u.>i|j',. rcl.i!'.': :' t; ,-;tV',.l, . I'tlMll-; iMJi;' f>S^ i)tM''(»pi ..- :\ .' ^'•' • •. ■ M- : : .. ^ , v.A\ .:.«! an.) 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