The Wars of the Roses

At the beginning of the contentions of York and Lancaster, the De Veres naturally took part against the misleaders of the monk-monarch, and as late, at least, as 1455, John, twelfth Earl of Oxford, was a friend of the duke. Oxford, however, was not prepared for a transfer of the crown; and when the dispute assumed the form of a dynastic war, he took the losing side, and in 1461 was beheaded on Tower Hill, with his eldest son, Aubrey. At the time of the old earl's execution, his second son, John, was twenty-three; and, being husband of Margaret Neville, the sister of Warwick, he was allowed to remain undisturbed in England, to bear the title of Oxford, and, without taking any part in politics, to maintain feudal state at Wyvenhoe and Castle Hedlingham. Oxford, however, was "linked in the closest friendship with Warwick;" and when the Yorkist king shook off the influence of "The Stout Earl," England was no longer a place of safety for the chief of the De Veres. In 1470 Oxford followed his great brother-in-law to France, hoping, perhaps, to mediate between Warwick and the Lancastrian queen who had ever hated the earl as her mightiest foe.

At this period Margaret of Anjou had seen forty summers, and, doubtless, felt somewhat less strongly than in earlier days the ambition which had animated her before Wakefield and Hexham. But the Prince of Wales was now in his eighteenth year, and, inspired by maternal love, she was ready, in order to regain the crown for him, to brave new dangers and endure fresh hardships.

Young Edward was, indeed, a prince on whom a mother might well look with pride. Every thing had been done to make him worthy of the throne he had been born to inherit. Fortescue had instructed the royal boy in the duties necessary for his enacting the part of "a patriot king;" and, while engaged in studies so grave, the prince had not neglected those accomplishments essential to his rank. Ere leaving Verdun he had become a handsome and interesting youth. His bearing was chivalrous; his manner graceful; his countenance of almost feminine beauty, shaded with fair hair, and lighted up with a blue eye that sparkled with valor and intelligence. Such, arrayed in the short purple jacket trimmed with ermine, the badge of St. George on his breast, and a single ostrich feather – his cognizance as Prince of Wales – in his high cap, was the heir of Lancaster, whom Margaret of Anjou presented to the devoted adherents of the Red Rose, who, having lost every thing else, came to the French court to place their swords at his disposal.

Louis was now in his element; and to reconcile the Yorkist earl and the Lancastrian queen, he exerted all his powers of political intrigue. His task, indeed, was not easy. Warwick had accused Margaret of plotting against his life, and murdering his father. Margaret had charged Warwick – whom she hated more bitterly even than she had hated the Duke of York – with depriving her of a crown, and destroying her reputation. The earl's wish, in the event of deposing Edward, still was to place Clarence on the throne; and, even since quarreling with the Yorkist king, he had taken part against the Lancastrians. The queen was, on her part, utterly averse to friendship with her ancient adversary. "My wounds," she exclaimed, "must bleed till doomsday, when to God's justice I will appeal for vengeance!"

Most men would have regarded the case as desperate. But Louis viewed it in another light. Between the queen and the earl, indeed, there was a wide gulph, in which ran the blood of slaughtered friends and kinsmen; but one sentiment the queen without a crown and the earl without an earldom had in common – an intense antipathy to Edward of York. Moreover, the Prince of Wales had, on some festive occasion, seen Anne Neville, the earl's daughter, and the sight had inspired him with one of those romantic attachments which call into action the tenderest sympathies and the noblest aspirations. A fear that Margaret and Warwick would never consent to a union might have daunted young Edward, but Louis had seen more of the world. He knew that Warwick could hardly see the prince without being covetous to have him as a son-in-law; and he knew that Margaret would be prompted by the ambition of a queen, and the tenderness of a mother, to recover by compromise the crown which she had been unable to gain by force. In one important respect the mind of Louis was made up – that, on all points, he would intrigue and negotiate with an eye to his own profit.

Louis had correctly calculated the effect of circumstances on those with whom he had to deal. The earl, being flesh and blood, could not resist the prospect of a throne for his daughter, and indicated his readiness to make peace. Margaret was not quite so reasonable; but, at length, she yielded so far as to agree to a meeting with the man whom she had accused of piercing her heart with wounds that could never be healed.

Accordingly, a conference was appointed; and in June, 1470, Warwick, in the Castle of Amboise, met the queen, from the brow of whose husband he had torn the English crown, and the prince, the illegitimacy of whose birth he had proclaimed at Paul's Cross. Now, however, the earl was prepared to give his hand in friendship to one, and his daughter as wife to the other. He offered to restore Henry of Windsor, if Margaret would consent to unite the Prince of Wales to Anne Neville. Margaret, however, felt the sharpness of the sacrifice, and, after some hesitation, asked for time to consider the proposal.

Ere the time expired, the queen's aversion to the match was strengthened. She showed Louis a letter from England, in which the hand of Edward's daughter, Elizabeth, then recognized as heiress to the crown, was offered to her son. "Is not that," she asked, "a more profitable party? And if it be necessary to forgive, is it not more queenly to treat with Edward than with a twofold rebel?" Louis, who was bent on business, did not relish such talk as this. To Margaret he became so cool, that she could hardly help seeing he would have thought little of throwing her interests overboard. To Warwick he was all kindness, declaring that he cared far more for the earl than he did either for Margaret or her son, and even giving an assurance that he would aid Warwick to conquer England for any one he chose.

Margaret perceived that it was no time for exhibitions of vindictive feeling; and, with undisguised reluctance, she consented to the match. After thus sacrificing her long-cherished prejudices, the exiled queen proceeded to Angers, on a visit to the Countess of Warwick and to Anne Neville, at that time in her sixteenth year. Preparations were then made for the marriage which was to cement the new alliance, and, in July, the daughter of "The Stout Earl" was solemnly espoused to the son of "The Foreign Woman."

About this time there arrived at Calais an English lady of quality, who stated that she was on her way to join the Duchess of Clarence. Vauclerc, believing that she brought overtures of peace from Edward to Warwick, and feeling a strong interest in the reconciliation of the king and the earl, allowed her to pass, and she found her way to Angers, where the marriage was then being celebrated. The errand of this lady was not quite so amiable as Vauclerc had supposed. On arriving at Angers, she revealed herself to Clarence as having been sent by his brothers to tempt him to betray Warwick – to implore him, at all events, not to aid in the subversion of their father's house.

Clarence was just in the state of mind to be worked upon by a skillful diplomatist; and the female embassador executed her mission with a craft that Louis might have envied. The duke, so long as he had simply been taking part in a feud between Warwick and the Woodvilles, was all zeal for the earl, and not without hope that he himself might profit by the strife; but no sooner did the weak prince find himself engaged with the adherents of the Red Rose in a contest to substitute the heir of the house of Lancaster for the chief of the house of York, than he began to pause and ponder. At this stage the lady of quality appeared at Angers, and managed her part of the business with the requisite dexterity; in fact, Clarence declared that he was not so great an enemy to his brother as was supposed, and he promised, significantly, to prove that such was the case when he reached England. The lady departed from Angers, and returned to Edward's court with a full assurance that her mission would produce important results.

The bridal of the prince and Anne Neville having been celebrated, Warwick and Oxford prepared to return to England. Fortune, with fickle smile, cheered the king-maker's enterprise. Every thing was promising; for the English people, since Warwick had been exiled to a foreign strand, complained that England without "The Stout Earl" was like a world without a sun; and day after day came messengers to tell that thousands of men were ready to take up arms in his cause whenever he set foot on his native soil.

Delay was not to be thought of under such circumstances. The earl did not lose any time. With Pembroke and Clarence, and Oxford and George De Vere, Oxford's brother, he went on board the fleet that lay at Harfleur. The French coast was not, indeed, clear; for Burgundy had fitted out a fleet, which blockaded Harfleur and the mouth of the Seine. But even the elements favored Warwick at this crisis of his career. A storm arising dispersed the duke's fleet; and, next morning, the weather being fine, the earl and the Lancastrians gave their sails to the wind, and, confident of bringing their enterprise to a successful issue, left behind them the coast of Normandy.

CHAPTER XXV

THE EARL'S RETURN AND EDWARD'S FLIGHT

When Warwick, in France, was forming an alliance with Margaret of Anjou, the people of England were manifesting their anxiety for "The Stout Earl's" return.[10 - "The absence of the Earl of Warwick," says Hall, "made the common people daily more and more to long, and be desirous to have the sight of him, and presently to behold his personage. For they judged that the sun was clearly taken from the world when he was absent. In such high estimation, among the people, was his name, that neither no one man they had in so much honor, neither no one person they so much praised, or, to the clouds, so highly extolled. What shall I say? His only name sounded in every song, in the mouth of the common people, and his person was represented with great reverence when public plays or open triumphs should be showed or set forth abroad in the streets."] Edward of York, meanwhile, appeared to consider the kingdom nothing the worse for the king-maker's absence. He even ridiculed the idea of taking any precautions to guard against the invasion which was threatened. Instead of making preparations for defense, the king, after the earl's departure from England, occupied himself wholly with the ladies of his court; going in their company on hunting excursions, and diverting himself with every kind of pleasant pastime.

The Duke of Burgundy was by no means so cool as the King of England. In fact, Charles the Rash was quite aware of the degree of danger to which his brother-in-law was exposed, and gave him timely warning not only that an invasion was projected, but of the very port at which Warwick intended to land. "By God's blessed lady," exclaimed Edward, "I wish the earl would land, and when we have beaten him in England, I only ask our brother of Burgundy to keep such a good look-out at sea as to prevent his return to France."

The wish which the king, with too much confidence in his resources, thus expressed, was speedily to be gratified. About the middle of September, 1470, while he was in the north, suppressing an insurrection headed by Lord Fitzhugh, Warwick suddenly landed on the coast of Devon, and proclaimed that he came to put down falsehood and oppression, and to have law and justice fairly administered. It soon appeared that the popularity of the earl gave him a power that was irresistible. A few months earlier, when he was escaping to France, a magnificent reward had been offered by the king to any man who should seize the rebellious baron; but now that the earl was once more in England, with Oxford by his side, all the heroes of the Round Table, if they had been in the flesh, would have shrunk from the hazard of such an exploit. Long ere he landed, the Nevilles and De Veres were mustering their merry-men; a few days later warriors of all ranks were flocking to his standard; and, at the head of a numerous army, he marched toward London. Being informed, however, that the capital was favorable to his project, and that the king had retraced his steps to Nottingham, Warwick turned toward the Trent, summoning men to his standard as he went, and intending to give Edward battle.

Meanwhile, the king's situation was gradually becoming desperate. His soldiers, giving way to discontent, began to desert; and, while he was in Lincoln, near the River Welland, circumstances occurred to prove the prudence of Burgundy's warnings, and to remove Edward's illusions.

At the time when Warwick was flying from England, Edward, in defiance of prudential considerations, took one of those steps which sometimes cost a crown. After his victory at Hexham, Lord Montagu had been gifted with the earldom of Northumberland. At that time the young chief of the Percies was a Lancastrian captive in the Tower or an exile in Scotland; but the mediation of friends prevailed, and the heir of Hotspur was reconciled to the heir of the Mortimers. Edward deemed the opportunity favorable for weakening the Nevilles, and encouraged the Northumbrians to petition for the restoration of the house of Percy. The Northumbrians did petition; Montagu resigned the earldom; and the king, to console him for his loss, elevated the victor of Hexham to the rank of marquis. Montagu took the marquisate, but he indulged in a bitter jest and bided his time.

It happened that, when Warwick landed, Montagu had mustered ten thousand men in the king's name. Hearing of the earl's return, these soldiers caught the popular contagion, and evinced so strong an inclination to desert their standard, that Montagu saw that the hour for retaliation was come; and, after remarking that "Edward had taken Northumberland from him, and given him a marquisate, but only a pie's nest to maintain it withal," he frankly added, "I shall decidedly take the part of the earl."

The king was that night asleep in the royal tent when aroused by the chief of his minstrels, and informed that Montagu and some other lords had mounted their horses and ordered their soldiers to raise the shout of "God bless King Henry!" Edward, completely taken by surprise, rose and buckled on his armor; but, resistance being out of the question, he determined to fly. Having exhorted his followers to go and join Warwick, pretending great friendship, but secretly retaining their allegiance, the king rode toward Lynn, accompanied by about a hundred knights and gentlemen, among whom were his brother, Richard, Duke of Gloucester; his brother-in-law, Anthony Woodville, Earl Rivers; his Chamberlain, William, Lord Hastings; and William Fiennes, Lord Say, son of that nobleman who had been put to death during Jack Cade's insurrection. At Lynn the king found an English ship and two Dutch vessels ready to put to sea. On board of these Edward and his friends hastily embarked; and, leaving Warwick and Oxford masters of England, set sail for the territories of Burgundy.

Within St. Paul's Church-yard, to the north of the Cathedral, Cardinal Kempe had erected a cross to remind passers-by to pray for the souls of those buried beneath their feet. To preach at Paul's Cross was an object of clerical ambition; and, when service was there performed, the multitude gathered round the pulpit, while the wealthy citizens and municipal functionaries occupied galleries so constructed as to shelter them when the weather happened to be inclement. On the Sunday after Michaelmas, 1470, Dr. Goddard was the divine who officiated; and the doctor, being one of Warwick's chaplains, preached a political sermon, advocating the claims of the royal captive in the Tower, and setting forth the earl's patriotic intentions in such a light that the audience could not help wishing well to the enterprise.

The metropolis, thus excited, conceived a strong desire for Warwick's success; and, when it became known that King Edward had fled from the Welland, and that the earl was marching upon London, the partisans of the house of York, seeing that resistance would be vain, hastened to take refuge in the religious houses that had the privilege of affording sanctuary.

Hard by the Palace of Westminster, in the fifteenth century, stood a massive edifice, with a church built over it in the form of a cross. This structure, which was a little town in itself, and strongly enough fortified to stand a siege, had been erected by Edward the Confessor as a place of refuge to the distressed, and, according to tradition and the belief of the superstitious, it had been "by St. Peter in his own person, accompanied with great numbers of angels, by night specially hallowed and dedicated to God."

Within the walls of this sanctuary, at the time when Edward of York was flying to the territories of the Duke of Burgundy, and Warwick was advancing upon London, Elizabeth Woodville, leaving the Tower, and escaping down the Thames in a barge, took refuge with her three daughters, her mother, the Duchess of Bedford, and her friend, the Lady Scroope. There, forsaken by her court, and exposed to penury, the unhappy woman gave birth to her son Edward. This boy, "the child of misery," was "baptized in tears." "Like a poor man's child was he christened," says the chronicler, "his godfather being the Abbot and Prior of Westminster."

Meanwhile, on the 6th of October, Warwick entered London in triumph; and, going directly to the Tower, the great earl released Henry of Windsor, proclaimed him king, and escorted him from a prison to a palace. After this the king-maker called a Parliament, which branded Edward as a usurper, attainted his adherents as traitors, restored to the Lancastrians their titles and estates, and passed an act entailing the crown on Edward of Lancaster, and, failing that hopeful prince, on George, Duke of Clarence.

So great was the earl's power and popularity that he accomplished the restoration of Lancaster almost without drawing his sword; and no man suffered death upon the scaffold, with the exception of John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester, whose cruelties, exercised in spite of learning and a love of letters that have made his name famous, had exasperated the people to phrensy, and won him the name of "the Butcher." Warwick was not a man, save when on fields of fight, to delight in the shedding of blood; and, even had it been otherwise, his high pride would have made him scorn in the hour of triumph the idea of striking helpless foes.

At Calais the news of the earl's triumph created no less excitement than in England. The intelligence might, under some circumstances, have caused Governor Vauclerc considerable dismay and no slight apprehension that his conduct while the earl was in adversity would place him in a perilous predicament. Vauclerc, however, had his consolation, and must have chuckled as he reflected on the prudence he had exercised. The crafty Gascon, doubtless, congratulated himself heartily on his foresight, and felt assured that in spite of Edward's patent and Burgundy's pension, the devotion he had expressed and the intelligence he had given to Warwick would, now that the political wind had changed, secure him a continuance of place and power.

But, whatever on the occasion might have been Governor Vauclerc's sentiments, Warwick's triumph produced a sudden change in the politics of Calais. The city, so often the refuge of Yorkists in distress, manifested unequivocal symptoms of joy at a revolution which restored the house of Lancaster; and the Calesians, forgetting that, from selfish motives, they had, six months earlier, refused Warwick admittance within their walls, painted the white cross of Neville over their doors, and endeavored, in various ways, to testify excessive respect for the great noble who could make and unmake kings. As for the garrison, which, a few months earlier, could not be trusted, every man was now ready to drink the earl's health; every tongue sounded the praises of the king-maker; every cap was conspicuously ornamented with the Ragged Staff, known, far and wide, as the badge of the Countess of Warwick.

Fortune, which seldom does things by halves, seemed to have conducted the earl to a triumph too complete to be reversed; and if any one, with the gift of political prophecy, had ventured to predict that, within six months, King Edward would ride into London amid the applause of the populace, he would have been regarded as a madman. Every circumstance rendered such an event improbable in the extreme. The fickle goddess appeared to have forever deserted the White Rose, and to have destined the sun of York never more to shine in merry England.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE EARL OF WORCESTER

While Edward is in exile; and Elizabeth Woodville in the sanctuary; and Warwick holding the reins of power; and Margaret of Anjou and her son on the Continent; we may refer with brevity to the melancholy fate of John Tiptoft, Earl of Worcester, celebrated on the same page of history as "the Butcher" and as "the paragon of learning and the patron of Caxton" – the most accomplished among the nobility of his age, and, at the same time, the only man "who, during the Yorkist domination, had committed such excesses as to merit the punishment of death at the Lancastrian restoration."

Though not of high patrician rank like the Nevilles or the De Veres, Worcester had claims to considerable respect in an ancestral point of view. One of the family of Tiptoft, after fighting in the Barons' Wars against Simon de Montfort, accompanied the victor of Evesham when that great prince fared forth to the Holy Land to signalize his prowess against the enemies of his religion; and the descendants of the crusader made their name known to fame in those wars which our Plantagenet kings carried on in Scotland and in France. Early in the fifteenth century, Lord Tiptoft, the chief of the race, espoused the sister and co-heir of Edward Charlton, Lord Powis; and, about the year 1427, their son, John Tiptoft, first saw the light at Everton, in the shire of Cambridge.

The heir of the Tiptofts was educated at Baliol College, Oxford; and at that ancient seat of learning pursued his studies with such energy and enthusiasm as raised the admiration of his contemporaries, and laid the foundation of the fame which he has enjoyed with posterity. When in his teens, he became, by his father's death, one of the barons of England, and, some time later, in 1449, he found himself elevated, by Henry of Windsor, to the earldom of Worcester. He had enjoyed this new dignity for six years, and reached the age of twenty-eight, when blood was first shed at St. Albans in the Wars of the Roses.

Worcester was a man of action as well as a scholar. When, therefore, war commenced, he was, doubtless, looked upon by both parties as a desirable partisan. The accomplished earl, however, appears to have been in no haste to risk his head and his baronies in the quarrel either of York or Lancaster. At first, he hesitated, wavered, and refrained from committing himself as to the merits of the controversy, and, finally, instead of plucking either "the pale or the purple rose," avoided the hazard of making a choice by leaving the country and repairing to the Holy Land.

After indulging his zeal as a Christian and his curiosity as a man, during his visit to Jerusalem, Worcester turned toward Italy; and having beheld the wonders of Venice – then in all the pride of wealth and commercial prosperity – and resided for a time at Padua – then famous as the chief seat of European learning – he proceeded to Rome to gladden his eyes with a sight of the Vatican Library. While in Rome Worcester had an interview with Pius the Second, and an interesting scene rendered the occasion memorable. On being presented to the Pope, better known in England as Æneas Sylvius, the young English nobleman addressed to him a Latin oration, to which the learned pontiff listened with tears of admiration.

As soon as the news spread over Europe that the Lancastrians had been utterly routed on Towton Field, and that Edward of York was firmly seated on the English throne, Worcester returned home. During his residence in Italy he had purchased many volumes of manuscripts; and of these he contributed a liberal share to the library at Oxford, whose shelves had formerly profited by the donations of "The Good Duke Humphrey." When abroad, Worcester had evinced such an eagerness to possess himself of books, that it was said he plundered the libraries of Italy to enrich those of England.

The king received Worcester with favor, and treated him with high consideration. Soon after his return the learned earl presided at the trial of John, Earl of Oxford, and his son, Aubrey De Vere; and, no longer inclined to waver, he buckled on the mail of a warrior, and accompanied Edward to the north of England on his expedition against the Lancastrians. Meanwhile, he had been intrusted with high offices; and appears to have at the same time exercised the functions of Treasurer of the King's Exchequer and Constable of the Tower of London, Chancellor of Ireland, and Justice of North Wales.

For seven years after his return from Italy, Worcester conducted himself with credit and distinction. Evil communications, however, corrupt good manners. At a critical period the intellectual baron appears to have fallen under the influence of Elizabeth Woodville; and to have been used by that unscrupulous woman to perpetrate acts of tyranny that ultimately cost him his life.

Of the great Norman barons whose swords had won them dominion over the Celts of Ireland the Fitzgeralds were among the proudest and most powerful. One branch of the family held the earldom of Desmond; another that of Kildare; and both exercised much influence in the provinces subject to their sway. In the contest between the rival Plantagenets, the Fitzgeralds adopted the White Rose as their badge; and Thomas, eighth Earl of Desmond, fought by Edward's side in those battles which won the crown for the house of York.

When the question of Edward's marriage with Elizabeth Woodville was agitated, Desmond was naturally consulted; and the Norman earl took a different course from such pickthanks as Sir John Howard. Being frank and honest, he unhesitatingly pointed out the king's imprudence, and perhaps became, in consequence, one of those people for whom the widow of Sir John Grey did not entertain any particular affection. But, however that may have been, Edward appointed his old comrade-in-arms deputy to the Duke of Clarence, who was then Lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and when Desmond was preparing to depart from London, the king asked if there was any thing in his policy that could be amended. The earl, with more zeal for his sovereign's service than respect for his sovereign's marriage vow, advised Edward to divorce Elizabeth Woodville, and to marry some woman worthy of sharing the English throne.

Edward was not the most faithful of husbands; and Elizabeth Woodville may not, at first, have been the most patient of wives, though she afterward learned to submit with a good grace. At all events, they had sundry domestic quarrels; and Edward, during some altercation with the queen, said, "Had I hearkened to Desmond's advice, your insolent spirit would have been humbled."

The queen's curiosity was excited in the highest degree; and, unluckily for Desmond, she determined to find out what advice he had given. On eliciting the truth, Elizabeth vowed revenge; and so strenuous were her efforts to effect the earl's ruin, that she succeeded at length in having him sentenced to lose both his office and his head. Unfortunately for Worcester, he was appointed to succeed Desmond as deputy; and, on arriving in Ireland to assume his functions, he caused the sentence of decapitation against his predecessor to be executed. Under any circumstances, the duty which the new deputy had thus to perform would have been invidious. If we are to credit the story generally told, Worcester executed the sentence under circumstances, not only invidious, but disgraceful and dishonorable.

According to the popular account of the execution of Desmond, the king had no more idea than the child unborn that his old friend was to fall a victim to female malice. It is said that Elizabeth Woodville, having by stealth obtained the royal signet, affixed the seal to a warrant for the Irish earl's execution, and that Worcester, in order to possess himself of some part of Desmond's estates, instantly acted on this document. It is added that, on hearing of the transaction, Edward was so enraged, that Elizabeth, terrified at her husband's wrath, fled from him to a place of safety.

Desmond was executed at Drogheda; and, when his head fell, the Fitzgeralds rose as one man to avenge the death of their chief. Worcester, however, far from being daunted, stood his ground fearlessly, and remained in Ireland till 1470, when Warwick finally broke with the king. As Clarence took part with his father-in-law, his posts as Constable of England and Lord-lieutenant of Ireland were forfeited, and Edward bestowed them upon Worcester.

On the occasion of his promotion to the lord-lieutenancy, Worcester returned to England. On arriving at Southampton, he was commanded by the king to sit in judgment on several gentlemen and yeomen taken by Anthony Woodville in some ships during a skirmish at sea. Worcester, who appears to have been the reverse of squeamish about shedding blood, condemned twenty of them to be "drawn, hanged, and quartered." Among these was John Clapham, the squire who figured so conspicuously at Banbury.

Worcester had hardly rendered this service to Edward when Warwick landed, and carried every thing before him. The revolution which restored Henry of Windsor, and placed England in the power of Warwick and his brother-in-law, the Earl of Oxford, was accomplished with so little resistance, that scarcely a drop of blood was shed. Worcester, however, was not allowed to escape. Though a man of rare accomplishments for his age, and one who endeavored to inspire his countrymen with that respect for letters which he himself felt, the earl had, while constable of the Tower, been guilty of fearful severities against the Lancastrians; and he was spoken of among the populace as "The Butcher of England."[11 - "It is vain," says Sir E. Bulwer Lytton, "that some writers would seek to cleanse the memory of the learned nobleman from the stain of cruelty, by rhetorical remarks on the improbability that a cultivator of letters should be of a ruthless disposition. The general philosophy of this defense is erroneous. In ignorant ages, a man of superior acquirements is not necessarily made humane by the cultivation of his intellect; on the contrary, he too often learns to look upon the uneducated herd as things of another clay. Of this truth all history is pregnant."]

Hearing of the king's flight, and not unconscious of his own unpopularity, Worcester was under the necessity of shifting for himself as he best could. His efforts to escape, however, were fruitless. Being pursued into the county of Huntingdon, he was found concealed in a tree in the forest of Weybridge, dragged from his hiding-place, and carried to the Tower of London.