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ley, Duke of York, who married Isabella, daughter | Hume, writing without any great regard to the acand co-heiress of Peter, King of Castile and Leon. curacy of his statements, or the contrary, follows Joho of Gaunt had married her sister, so that there both. There does not seem to be the smallest was a double connection between the houses of reason to believe that either of the "king's brothYork and Lancaster, which for a brief period serv- ers” had the slightest share in the death of the ed to keep them from coming to any direct issue. young prince. The probability is that he was killed York, however, could not forget the usurpation of in the battle, no person, particularly, being responLancaster. The Earl of Cainbridge, the Duke of sible for his death. The grand author of the imYork's second son, married the lady Ann Morti- potation was Polydore Virgil, who was employed mer, sister to the Earl of March and granddangh- by Henry VII., to write the history of the period, ter of the Earl of Clarence, mentioned above. and who, of course, gave it such a color as would They immediately began to advocate the rights of suit his royal patron. primogeniture which had been abandoned (lacitly) The next charge against Gloucester is that he by Edward Mortimer. This nobleman had died murdered, with his own hand, the unfortunate Henry childless, and his rights became vested in Richard VI. That monarch, who was confined in the tower, Plantagenet, the only son of the Duke of Cam- certainly died on the day of the battle of Tewkesbridge, (mentioned above.) and the lady Ann Mor. bory; but there is no reason to believe that Gloutimer. This prince, having entered into a conspi- cester had any particular share in his death. The racy with the Lord Treasurer Scroop and Sir scene in Shakspeare, in which he is represented Thomas Gray to dethrone Henry V., was tried as holding his final interview with the aged monfor treason and beheaded, in the year 1415, at arch, is one of the most powerful he has drawn, Southampton.

and one from the effects of which it is least easy The Duke of Cambridge was much beloved, to disabuse the public mind ; yet there has never particularly by his own race, and his death begot been any direct testimony that the duke of Gloua degree of hatred between the two families, which cester ever saw Henry VI. after the battle of never snbsided. The families of York and Cla- Tewkesbury. That monarch died on the night of rence, already united by marriage, formed an alli- the battle ; Gloucester commanded his brother's ance against the house of Lancaster, which led to forces on that day. Is it probable that he would that struggle, well known in history as the war of have left so important a command, travelled post the Roses. The son and heir of the Duke of York, to London, through the midst of people, many of (Edmood Langley) was killed at the battle of Agin. whom must have belonged to the enemy, and all court ; he left no issue and consequently the infant for the purpose of assassinating an old and feeble heir of the Duke of Cambridge, recently executed, man whose cause, at the best, was entirely prosbecame the heir of all the family honors, titles and trate, and who had nothing farther to oppose to the estates. In consequence, however, of his father's claims of his rival? It is impossible to believe it! rebellion, his honors and titles were suppressed by The interview between Gloucester and the widow the strong arm of an act of Parliament. This of the young prince of Wales, (the lady Ann of Duke of York was the father of Edward IV., of Shakspeare,) is described with glowing effect, unClarence, and of Ricliard III., all characters per- doubtedly, by the poet. It is not known to the fecily well known to the readers of Shakspeare. majority of readers, that “the lady Ann" was the

The fate of Henry VI. has excited much com- daughter of the Earl of Warwick, (the King mamiseration from the graphic representation of ker,) that she had been raised from her infancy Shakspeare. This in connection with the death of with her cousin, the Duke of Gloucester,--that she bis son, prince Edward, is the first crime with had been only betrothed, and never actually marwhich Richard, at that ijine Duke of Gloucester, is ried to the young prince of Wales--that there is charged. At the time of the battle of Barnet, the every reason to believe, that an attachment had same in which prince Edward was slain, the Duke been formed between the cousins from early child of Gloucester was eighteen years old; an age at hood--that the Duke of Clarence, who married the which croelly is not natural to the mind of most elder sister, in order to secure the property of the men, and at which there is no reason to believe younger, had left her in the condition of a scullion, that it had taken possession of that of the person and that she was found in that situation by the in question. As to the murder of the young prince, Duke of Gloucester, who not only relieved her, but it is so fficient merely to say, that the eldest of the married her. The play of Shakspeare makes chroniclers who has mentioned the event, represents Richard accost her as she was attending the corpse him as having been slain by the “ king's servants." of Henry VI. to Tutbury ; that was clearly imThe Tudor historians substituted the word "broth- possible, since the body was conveyed, by water, ers” for “servants ;" and thus the whole offence and at midnight; thus rendering it utterly incomis laid upon the Duke of Clarence and Gloucester, patible with all that we can imagine of the true bnt more especially on the latter. Shakspeare, characters of Shakspeare's description. If the following Holinshed, adopted his prejudices, and reader will only take into consideration the fact,


that at the time of all these transactions Richard Violent prejudice was thus, of course, excited was in his nineteenth year, he will be able to esti- against him who had been the perpetrator of so mate the value of history, especially history of the foul a crime. The ballad-writer, who was no doubt middle ages.

a strong partisan, did not venture to mention names; The next crime, of magnitude, altributed to he did what was far more effectual; he threw the Richard is, we believe, the murder of his brother, thing into rhyme and left room for the imagination the Duke, (or Earl as it was at that day,) of Cla- to work. At the same time it was perfectly un

It is certain, however, that at the time of derstood, all over the nation, who was meant. The Clarence's death, the Duke of Gloucester had been cruel uncle who, in order to obtain possession of his for six years in the north of England—that he had brother's property, carried his children to the woods been engaged in no possible manner with any po- and there left them to perish—even the robin redlitical party--and that he had no earthly object, as breast, which covered them up with leaves when things then stood, lo gain by the perpetration of they were on the point of death, was all understood such a deed. Clarence appears to have been a at the time to bear directly upon the treatment suplight, wavering, uncertain character--a man of posed to have been extended by the Duke of Glou. liule principle and of no common sense. His de cester to his nephews. The theme was a popular sertion of his own party and his alliance with War- one. It possessed all the qualities which could wick are evidence enough of this truth. But ihat make it run " like wildfire." There was pathos in the Duke of Gloucester ever entertained any fear it—there was interest for the young friends in ilof' him, is too absurd for consideration. It may there was political feeling in it—there was every give the readers of Shakspeare and of Hume, who thing, in short, to make it popular; and yet we have been in the habit of indulging their sympa- think any person who will read Mrs. Halsted's thies at the expense of Richard, some pleasure to book will discover in a very few hours, that there know, that after all, he was not drowned in a buit is not the slightest reason to think that Richard of malmsey. He was regularly executed, on the was ever guilty of any of the acis attributed to contrary, according to law-left the world " qui- him, so far as the fate of his nephews, at least, is etly,” to use a phrase of Captain Dalgetty, by suf-involved. We should be glad, if for no other focation, after the manner of a great many of his reason yet for the sake of Shakspeare, and our fathers. We learn not from this book, nor from old friend Booth, lo believe, since the thing hapWalpole's, the nature of the cord which served to pened so long ago, that Richard actually was the extinguish the line of so many heroes. All we scoundrel that Shakspeare made him out, and that know is, that Richard had no hand in twisting it. Booth, occasionally, represents him to have been,

The most singular of all the misconceptions con- But we bow to Mr. Booth ; we ask pardon of Shaksnected with the name of Richard III., is the idea peare; and we say to both, speaking as though we that he was ever in any way unkind to his wife--that were lawyers, make out your case gentlemen, behe ever had the most remote intention of murder- fore you call the witnesses into court ; and after ing her. It is established by Mrs. Halsted's tes- they are there, see who it is that you examine. limony, collected from the most approved records, There is a rule of law, we have always heard, that that he lived in wedlock ten years with her—that when a witness comes into court, he should come the harmony of their lives was never interrupted, with clean hands. What sort of hands would they and that she died a natural death, after having exhibit, who have testified against Richard III. ? borne several children. From the same testimony The truth is, and we think it will be so underwe are induced to believe that the attachment be- stood by any candid man, that there is no proof of tween the two commenced at an early age, and that Richard's having murdered his nephews ; that Perit never subsided. It certainly was never inter- kin Warbeck was really the son of Edward IV., rupted for ten years, the whole period of Richard's we have not the smallest doubt. But look at the residence in the North of England as Governor of motives for snppressing the fact! Henry VII., the that portion of his brother's territories.

avowed heir of the whole Lancasterian factionThe charge of Richard's having murdered his not only of their property, bit of their prejudices nephews, the young sons of Edward IV., is de- also—was on the throne at the time Warbeck serving of far more notice. The popular ballad made his appearance and was received by the king of the “ Babes in the Wood" is derived entirely of Scotland as the true heir of the English crown. from this. One good song is enough to neutral- He is said to have borne every trait of having been ize all history. “Give me," says Swift, "the bal- the son of Edward IV.; yet he is denounced in lads of the nation, and I care not who writes its all the English journals of those eveniful days laws.” How much truth is there in this simple as an impostor! What was the reason? Is it paragraph! This very ballad, understood as it not obvious to all ? Henry was of the house of was by the people of England, was of itself enough Lancaster. His disposition was very imperiousto set the hearts of the English people forever he could not bear opposition, and the historian who against Richard III.

wrote concerning him, his enemies, or his acts, was bound to keep a sharp lookout, or he might hero; Richard, his opponent, was a tyrant of the chance to wake up some morning and find a very worst description. The history of Henry " lion playing with his head,” just as the Eng. VII. is before the world; that of Richard III. is lish gentleman who kept a tiger as his pet, woke involved in impenetrable darkness. The friends of up and found that interesting specimen of the qua- the house of York did not dare to express their druped family, dandling the head of his valet, as sympathies for their fallen chief; the friends of the though it were nothing more than a trap-ball, for House of Lancaster did not hesitate to cast every which he retained the fondness natural to one who epithet of horror and hatred upon the unhappy had ever been addicted to that manner of sport. representative of the House of York. Sir Thomas Civilized beasts, however, are more dangerous More, Lord Bacon, Holinshed, Shakspeare, and than even those of the forests ; and so, beyond last of all, Davy Hume, have done more to damn doubt, did Sir Thomas More find it. He might all modern history in the eyes of men who have have gotten out of the way of a tiger; he would been accustomed to look on it as a true representahave found it very hard to escape the long claws ljon of things that actually did occur, than all the of the Tudor lion. He thought, beyond doubt, other falsifiers of history combined. that there was little wisdom in trifling with a crea- The death of Richard III. as is proved by Mrs. Halture who possessed such terrific powers; his in- sted, was as nndeserved as his life had been misstinct would have kept him out of reach of the ti- represented. Betrayed by his pretended friends ger. Something very much of the same nature meeting with nothing but enemies abroad, and traikept him beyond the spring of the beasts that walk-tors at home-he fell sword in hand at the head of ed upon two legs. It was his aim to vilify the his array. How should so gallant an enemy have house of York. It has never been the aim of other been treated by the brave and magnanimous Richhistorians to correct it. He was the man to whom mond? When Sir John Moore fell at Corunna the all this vilification of Richard has been owing. French commander, Marshal Soult, raised a mon. "As Nathan said onto David, “Thou art the man.'"Jument to his memory. When Richard, the last A brief statement of the evidence, we think, will monarch of the race of Plantagenet, fell, his body be sufficient to satisfy any, even the most scepti- was borne to Leicester-not on the back of a horse cal, on the subject of this very interesting pas- but under his belly--and there buried with every sage in history.

mark of hatred and scorn which it was possible to In the year 1674, (during the reign of Charles conceive. II.) it was found necessary to rebuild the White We have already said that there have been scapeTower”: at the foot of the stairs, in the precise goats in history through all time; when Hannibal spot where the sons of Edward IV. were repre-invaded Italy, and Varro with his ninety thousand sented to have been buried, one hundred and ninety men fell before him, the fault was attributed enyears before-two skeletons were found, which tirely to Varro; perhaps if any man had been al. were thought to correspond to the age of the two lowed to take a look behind the scenes, he might children, (one of them was thirteen and the other have found that there were other persons as much eleven.) Sir Thomas More had suspected-Hol- to blame as Varro. inshed went a linile farther-Shakspeare, like a Upon the whole, after having read, many years true dramatist, had no doubt, and to clinch the mat. ago, the " Historic Doubts" and more recently ter, Sandford actually saw the skeletons of two chil- the history of Mrs. Halsted, we are led to the dren which were disinterred at the foot of the conclusion that history has been guilty of much " Tower Stairs!” Here is a case for a lawyer !! injustice to this very celebrated character--celeand if any from any portion of our country-Phila- brated perhaps in a way no man would particularly delphia or elsewhere--(we say Philadelphia be- desire. It seems to us to prove how little faith is cause we have always heard them spoken of as at best to be placed in history. The very personal men scarcely less skilled in the solution of knotty appearance of the man in question has been a subpropositions than Ædipus himself)— will undertake ject of reproach; he has been called by many histo convict any human being for any offence, how-torians “ Richard Crookback.” By Queen Marever slight-upon such testimony, then we must con- garet he is represented in the play of Henry VI. as sess that their notions of law are very different from

“Hard favored Richard," ours. Richard may have murdered his nephews or he may not, we pretend not to be positive upon and yet there is no reason to believe, from any conany such contested point—all we say is “prove be- temporary evidence, that Richard was either defore ye print." Harder things even than that may formed or more "hard-favored” than the generality be proved against the “Noble Richmond;" in of persons. The truth is that he has been unfortuother words, King Henry VII., the very worst man nate, and that with the majority of the world is a sufwho ever sat on an English throne. It is aston- ficient warrant for any degree of infamy it may be ishing to what degree prejndices will carry us all! pleased to attribute to the unhappy party. The Richmond, with the readers of Shakspeare, was a times in which he lived were highly excited-he

was on the very edge of that new dawn which “In one another's arms they dyed, broke upon the world in the great discovery of

As wanting due relief,”— Faust--his rival enjoyed all the advantage of that corresponding as it does with perhaps the most exquisite discovery—while he, on the contrary, felt all the description in the whole of Shakspeare's immortal tragedy;

the uncertainty attending their interment, evil that could be felt, by a person against whom

“No burial these pretty babes were employed weapons which he could not use,

Of any man receives ;"-and the full capacity of which he was consequently their uncle possessing himself of their inheritance, and the unable to estimate.

wretched pangs of remorse which he suffered prior to his Note.-We would take great pleasure in publishing the death,whole of the famous hallad of the “ Babes in the Wood;" " And now the heavy wrath of God but we have only such portions of it at hand as are

Upon their uncle sell; printer in Mis. Halsted's book. The tale, we believe, Yes, fearful fiends did baunt his house, however, is well understood. A father dying left two His conscience felt a hell;"— infant children under the guardianship of an uncle; the together with the retribution which followed the crimeuncle, in order to come into possession of their prop- the death of his wife-of his sons—and the desertion of erty, which was very large, seduced them from the guar. his followers, dianship of their mother, who anticipated their fate and parted with them with many tears and loud lamentations.

“And nothing by him staid ;" The uncle afterwards, under pretence of sending them to the confession eventually of the surviving ruffian, and the see the city of London, entrusted ibem to the care of two premature death of the uncle himself,-all facis in a great professed murderers, with directions to put them to death. measure correct as regards the actual sale of Richard III., The man having carried them into a forest, was about to are very startling coincidences, to say the least, bel ween execute his commission, when their beauty and helpless the nursery legend and the reputed tragedy which is belieness softened his heart, and he contented himself with leav. ved to have been thus obscurely perpetuated." ing them to perish in the woods. They died in the night, in each other's arms, and were covered by a robin-redbreast as we have related. The whole story bears a striking resemblance to what is generally believed of Richard's conduct with regard to his nephews, and was evidently designed as a political article. We give a few extracis. Speaking of the conduct of the mother on parting from

her children, the ballad says-
“ With lippes as cold as any stone,

She kist ber children small :
God bless you both, my children deare,-
With that the teares did fall."

Pearl of the heart's mysterious deep.

In whose pure realm thy breathings lie, Here is a striking resemblance between the conduct of

Soft as the dream of infant's sleep, this mother and that of Edward IV.'s widow, as represent

Or thought in high festivity. ed by Shakspeare on parting with her sons. Then (we quote from Mrs. Halsted's appendix,) it tells

Thou comest with new joy to lay us of “the avarice and ambition that tempted the uncle

Thy hand on the cold heart of care, to commit the crime, and its being perpetrated in so short a time after their father's decease, and in uiler disregard of

And fill the sunny aisles of day his oath to him,

With light such as they seldom share.
“He had not kept these pretty babes

Upon the soul thy yearning falls
A twelvemonth and a daye,

Like summer winds on whispering flowers,
But for their wealth he did devise

And from the buried past recalls
To make them both awaye ;" —

The memory of her golden hours.
his hiring two ruffians for a large sum of morey to destroy

Thou roam'st the cold, wide world afar,
“ He bargained with two russians strong,

Clothed in the many hues of sound,
Which were of furious mood,
That they should take these children young

Triumphing, like the morning star,

Within its bright and azure bound. And slay them in a wood;" — the compunction selt by the two ruffians, as related by

The ritual of the sullen main, Shakspeare, in very similar terms to those in the ballad,

Toat lingers in the murmuring shell,
“ So that the pretly speeche they had,

Repeats with many a solemn strain
Made Murder's heart relent ;

The wondious influence of thy spell.
And they that took to do the deed
Full sore did now repent;"-

The anthem the resounding sea,
the completiou of the “ piteous massacre," yet the mystery Sings wildly on the lonely shore,
attending the manner in which it was effected, typified in Is burthened with the mystery
the ballad by the wandering of the children in the wood, -

Which all thy varied voices pour.
“ Thus wandered these poor innocents,
Till death did end their griefs ;"

Like fires within the northern climes and 50 cautiously reported by the cotemporary ecclesiasti

That light our own with roseate glow, cal historian; the very attitude in which the children met Through earth's remotest bounds thy chimes their death,

or love and beauty ebb and flow.

With the sweet sights and sounds compare Which haunt these realms of upper air ?




Deep in the bosom of the earth

A murmuring sound was heard
The crystal fountain's gushing birth

The virgin silence stirred;
But oh! on Nature's hidden breast

The pining waters could not rest.
They could not rest—though rainbow gleams

From priceless gems were on them thrown,They panied for the fairy dreams

To earth's green surface known. Mid Nature's bid and mystic things

The Fountain welled its way,
Until among the flowers it springs

Forth to the realms of day.
Oh! what a scene of beauty burst

On the onfettered Spring -
The wildest dreams that it had nursed

Seemed vain imagining,
When on its waters, pure and free,

Was glassed the bright reality.

Just then the Fountain heard a sound,

As sweet as zephyr ever gaveWith earnest eye it looked around

The margin of its own pure wave, A lovely lower was bending nigh,

Crimson as smile of sunset sky-'Twas from its lips of purest flame, These low, mysterious, accents came :

List, Fountain, List!" the sweet voice said,
As low the flower bent its head,
" Oh ! listen to my warning lay,
Fast comes the golden car of day,
And if upon thy placid stream
Its dazzling glories brightly gleam,
They'll wake those rays of burning fire,

A wild unrest, a strange desire.
This little spot where now thou art,
No inore can hold thy yearning heart;
Adown the mountain's rugged steep
Thy swollen waves will wildly sweep;
On, on they'll rush, 'till far away
They join the billows' madd’ning play.
But, Fountain, thou wilt never meet,
In all thy rovings, spot so sweet
As that where now thy waters rest,
The stars are mirrored on thy breast,
The trees above thee shadows spread,
The flowers their odours round thee shed ;

Each gentle thing, each murmur sweet,
Is gathered in this calm retreat ;

If from the Sun-God thou wouldst hide
Thy lambent waves-at morning tide
I and my sister flowers will hold
Above thy breast our cups of gold,
Our emerald leaves will form a shade,
His brightest beams cannot invade,
Until that peaceful hour returns,
When spirits light the starry urns,
And love and silence seem but made
To haunt the green sequestered shade.”
As the rapt Fountain looked and listened,
Within the Rose's eye there glistened
A dew-drop tear, and from her breast,
('Twas gentle July gave it birth,)
A fragrant sigh stole softly forth :-
How could it leave a place so blest?

As twilight flung her modest veil

Upon the brow of day,And the crimson cheek of the West grew pale,

It mourned, the vanished ray;
Unheeding, that the Star of Eve

Shone brightly on its breast.
Whal spells did jewels ever weave

To soothe the heart's unrest?

Oh! as in awe the Fountain gazed

l'pon the regal Night, The shadowy fringe of its eye it raised

What glories met its sight : l'pon her brow in grandeur shone, Of countless stars a sparkling crown; While silvery moonbeams brightly fell Above its bosom's heaving swell; Their softest strains the zephyrs chose, To loll it to a sweet repose ; The flowerets brought their treasures sweet And laid them at its dewy feet; The streams with bending willows crowned, Gave forth their most melodious sound, So still the billows stole along, That echo scarce gave back their song.

In murmurs low the Fountain spoke,
Sweet were the accents, as the stroke
At midnight heard of fairy bells,
By watcher in the forest dells,
Whose peals all formed of flow'rets bright
Call round their Queen each Elfin sprite.
“Oh! lovely flower, do not grieve,
Let all thy sorrows be forgot ;
Dost think, fair Rose, that I could leave
Where thou dost dwell, the favored spot ?

Oh! this, the raptured Fountain thought,
This is the boon I long have sought!
How could the gold and gems that lie
Io Natures' hidden treasury,


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