He at all, and thus actually starved himself to death for fear of his son. died in this lamentable manner on the 22nd of July, 1461, in his fiftyeighth year, leaving a memory loved more than it deserved in France, partly because his reign had seen the expulsion of the strangers, and still more because he had been favourable to the burgher class. The true glory of his reign belongs, however, to Jeanne of Arc, whom he deserted at her utmost need, and Jacques Cœur, whom he allowed to be basely ruined. Margaret first resorted to Brittany, where she learnt these tidings, and also that Somerset and his companions had been at first arrested on their arrival in France, but had then been liberated, and that the new King, Louis XI., had returned from Burgundy, and was at Chinon in Normandy. She repaired to him, and kneeling at his feet with floods of tears, implored his pity and assistance; but Louis, though treating her courteously, made her understand that she must not expect aid for nothing, and he would only lend her twenty thousand livres on condition of her engaging that when her husband should recover his throne, she would appoint Jasper Tudor Governor of Calais, and surrender it to the French on the payment of another large sum. The best thing, however, that she obtained on this journey was the championship of Sir Pierre de Brezé, the seneschal of Normandy, the same who had resented the wrongs of the poor Dauphiness Margaret Stewart. He had maintained the honour of Queen Margaret's daisy at her bridal tournament, and now devoted himself to her service as a true knight to an errant princess in distress. With two thousand foreign troops she sailed for Northumberland in October, 1462, and had landed at Tynemouth, but hearing a report that Warwick was close at hand, and finding the cannon pointed against them, they fled in a panic to their ships, leaving Margaret, her son, and Brezé, alone on the beach, and only able to obtain a little fishing boat in which to escape to Berwick; but this desertion proved their safety, for a terrible storm arose, in which most of the foreign ships, unacquainted with the coast, were wrecked on Bamborough rocks, and on Holy Isle, where the five hundred men who got ashore were all killed by Sir Robert Ogle and his force, while the little native boat was able to ride out the storm and bear the Queen in safety to Berwick. Again she obtained succour from the Scots, and with King Henry entered England in the depth of winter, leaving their son at Berwick. Angus was collecting his troops to follow her, and she took Bamborough, Alnwick, and Dunstanburgh, placing Brezé's son, Ralf Percy, and Somerset, in command of these fortresses, with French and Scottish garrisons. These of course were abhorrent to the English, who were delighted when Edward and Warwick hurried to the north. Edward, however, was taken ill at Newcastle, it was said in consequence of his unbridled excess; but Warwick, dividing his army into three, besieged all the three fortresses, and Somerset amazed everyone by not only surrenVOL. 9. 2 PART 49. dering Bamborough, but by himself coming over to Edward, and fighting in his cause, being probably offended at the influence of Brezé. Suffolk and Exeter followed his example, and the King and Queen were forced to retreat into Scotland, having been joined by young Brezé after much danger. Mary of Gueldres and Bishop Kennedy seem to have come to the conclusion that the Lancastrian cause was hopeless; and the Queen had an interview with Warwick, who made further proposals to her on Edward's part; but on the 16th of November, 1463, this queen, still young, beautiful, and spirited, died suddenly, and the Earl of Angus dying about the same time, leaving only a young child as heir, the Yorkist interests gained the upper hand under the influence of the Boyds, a family who rose into great power at this time. This apparently occasioned the removal of the hunted royal family to their faithful friend David ap Einion's Castle at Harlech in Wales, but the story of their wanderings is exceedingly confused. They were often in want of the merest necessaries of life, and one meal of the whole family, king, queen, and prince, is said to have consisted of a single herring between the three; but all the time King Henry not only preserved his intellects, but his exceeding patience and sweetness, so that well might the blind poet Awdlay write 'I pray you, Sirs, of your gentry, For it is made of King Henry.' * Whether Margaret went abroad at this time or not is uncertain, but at any rate a fresh army had gathered in her cause in the April of 1464, and Somerset, Exeter, and Percy, were all up in arms again on Henry's behalf; the King himself in Somerset's camp on the Dilswater near Hexham. But Lord Montagu (Warwick's brother) defeated and slew Percy at Hedgeley Moor, and then marched on with five thousand men, and fell upon Somerset's camp, April 25th, 1465, where there were only five hundred. There was a short hot contest, ending in a disastrous flight and dispersion. Somerset was overtaken and beheaded that same night, the third Beaufort who had perished; the King rode headlong northward, closely pursued by Montagu's retainers, who managed to plunder his baggage and array themselves in his blue velvet gowns, in which their master found them, and also discovered in their possession his cap of state, embroidered with two crowns in gold and pearls, and called a bycocket. The Lords Roos and Hungerford were also taken and executed; but Lord Gray, who shut himself up in Bamborough, would have held out for some time against Warwick, had not a wall fallen upon him, and his Percy's last words were, 'I have saved the bird in my bosom,' meaning his loyalty to King Henry, which would have been truer but for his submission at Alnwick. garrison surrendered, thinking him dying; but the victors tended him carefully that he might be degraded from his knighthood, and carried with his scutcheon reversed, to die a traitor's death at Doncaster. Strange to say, it is really doubtful whether the Queen were in this battle or on the continent. Tradition declares that it was in her flight with her son that she was set upon by a band of robbers, and making her escape with young Edward while they were disputing over the booty, lost their way in the forest. Presently they saw a tall robber, sword in hand, approaching them; but Margaret, ever ready and resolute, stepped forward, saying, 'My friend, save the son of your king.' The outlaw fell at her feet, explaining that he was a ruined Lancastrian gentleman, who had been driven to the forests; and taking the prince in his arms, conducted her to a cave where she was sheltered for three days till the outlaw fell in with the faithful Brezé and his squire; and she soon after met the young heir of Somerset, and the Duke of Exeter. The cave is still shewn near Hexham, but the difficulty is that the story is told by contemporary chroniclers as having happened in Hainault, where Margaret was quite as likely to find ruined Lancastrians driven to robbery as in any English wood. However, the account which makes her present at Hexham further says that she reached Kirkcudbright in disguise, but was there recognized by an Englishman named Cook, who arrested her and her son, Brezé and his squire, and put them on board a small vessel to be conveyed to England; but Brezé and the squire overcame their captors, and brought the boat safe to land at Cantyre, whence she embarked for Flanders. As usual, she encountered stormy weather, but landed safely at L'Ecluse. In the meantime Henry was passed from one refuge to another in Lancashire and Westmoreland, sometimes hiding in a cave, sometimes in a house at Crackenthorpe, until after a full year of such wanderings, a wretched monk betrayed him to Sir James Hamilton; and he was taken as he sat at dinner in Waddington Hall in the June of 1465. The Earl of Warwick met him at Islington, and disgraced himself for ever by his base revenge on this most unoffending man. No semblance of respect was permitted; his ancles were bound to his stirrups; he was placed on a miserable horse, and thus entered London, where, before being taken to the Tower, he was three times led round the pillory, a crier proclaiming, 'Behold the traitor!' Meek as ever, he made merely one complaint as a ruffianly fellow struck him on the face. 'Forsooth and forsooth ye do foully to smite the Lord's Anointed.' Such was the last appearance of him, who forty-three years before had been proclaimed over two royal graves on the same day in two capitals -Henry, King of France and England! What was his present inheritance from his grandfather and his father? Nothing but the feebleness of the first, but most blessedly nothing but the pure heart and earnest piety of the other. (To be continued.) HYMN-POEMS ON NOTABLE TEXTS. BY S. J. STONE, B. A., AUTHOR OF LYRA FIDELIUM,' No. I. THE RIVER OF GOD. "There is a River, the streams whereof shall make glad the City of God.'-Psalm xlvi. 4. * Rev. i. 4. Grace be unto you... from the Seven Spirits which are before His Throne.' The Seven Spirits represent the Holy Spirit in His Sevenfold fulness. (Wordsworth.) So S. Augustine: The septenary number is consecrated to the Holy Ghost in Scripture.' + Cf. Rom. viii. 23; 2 Cor. v. 5; Eph. i. 14. So joy and peace and pleasure O Beautiful, the River! We pass upon thy breast, From waiting into rest. Amen. A VISIT TO QUEEN MARGARET'S CAVE. LAST autumn, just when the very hot weather was beginning to abate a little, I accepted an invitation to stay with some very dear friends in the far north of England-a clergyman and his wife, living in the little old town of Hexham. The famous battle that was fought there during the Wars of the Roses, has familiarized us all with its name, but perhaps my reader may have as misty ideas of the place itself as I had before I went there. Well, then, it is a quaint-looking and sadly dirty and neglected old town, though once of much importance as being a Bishopric, and the residence of twelve bishops in succession. There is a possibility of its once more becoming a Bishop's See, and that before very long. However, this is still uncertain; only, if the new bishops are appointed, as talked of, one of them will reside either at Newcastle or Hexham; and at Hexham there is a far finer church-the beautiful old Abbey Church— for a cathedral, than any at Newcastle. A great part of this fine old building has been destroyed, and there now remain only the choir and transept; but the nave and other portions will be restored, should it some day be used as a cathedral. The portion that is preserved, stands in rather a commanding position, on a little eminence; and the broad grey transept, looking like a pair of outstretched wings, surmounted by a short square tower, with a somewhat staring clock-face, used to remind us so of an old owl, that we would say when we came in sight of it in our walks, There's the old owl going to take flight.' But the old owl remained stationary; and there all the inhabitants of Hexham at least all the church people (for there are many Roman Catholics living in and about the town, some of them old and wealthy families who never joined the Established Church after the Reformation) |