ings of his father and his coadjutors, had long since vanished in the heated progress of the strife, and Edward might he regarded as the representative of the leaders now on both sides, with the exception of the gentle and forgiving Henry. All were prepared to hew their way to their object through human lives, as a forester would make his way, by his axe, through a wood. Men's lives had ceased to be regarded with any human feeling. They were destroyed as enemies, whenever they appeared as such, not only without remorse, but with savage exultation. Everything portended a reign of terror. On the royalist side, Henry would, no doubt, have been most happy and thankful to have been allowed to enjoy the quiet of some conventual retreat with his beads and his books; for in this respect the testimony of all history confirms the view of Shakespeare, when he makes him say—
"I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind;
And would my father had left me no more!
For all the rest is held at such a rate
As brings a thousand-fold more cares to keep
Than in possession any jot of pleasure."
But on that side Queen Margaret was as energetic, as ambitious, and as resolute as her husband was the contrary. The circumstances into which she had been thrown had roused in her the spirit of a tigress fighting for its young. They had converted her blood into gall, and all those poetical sentiments which her Provencal education had given her, and the wit and vivacity of mind, which might have rendered her a charming and even noble woman in happier scenes, had been crushed by the cruelty of her destiny. In contemplating her astonishing exertions, her fortitude amidst unexampled troubles and humiliations, her perpetual resistance to the most overwhelming disasters, the indomitable courage with which she rose from the most sweeping overthrows, refusing to yield or despair when the very last chance seemed annihilated, and the martial abilities which she displayed, it would be unjust to refuse her a high amount of admiration for such qualities in a woman; qualities which, had it not been for the darker side of her character, would have made her one of the proudest examples of female greatness. But Margaret allowed her enthusiasm in endeavouring to maintain the throne for her husband and her son, a noble ambition, to carry her into the most unfeminine cruelty, and into deeds of national mischief; to say nothing of conjugal failings attributed to her, which marred all her virtues, and still alienate from her the sympathy of posterity.
Still, so long as she could raise a man, there must be war to the death; and in Edward she had now to encounter an antagonist who would give blow for blow, shed blood for blood, without a moment's hesitation or a passing pang. He was just the man calculated to dash onwards through carnage and civil confusion to his object, not merely with indifference, but even with gaiety and pleasure. Woe to those who hoped anything from his compassion, or even ventured to jest, where the most distant circumstance could induce the supposition that the jest was aimed at him. Of this he gave a proof before quitting London to follow up the defeat of his enemies. One Walter Walker, a grocer, who lived at the sign of the crown, had said merrily, when speaking of the passing events, that he would make his son heir to the crown. This was witty enough to reach the court, and Edward had him forthwith arrested and put to death.
Margaret, on the warm reception of Edward by the Londoners, had retired northward with her marauding soldiers, who had so fatally damaged her cause by their outrages. Only three days after his reception in London, Edward dispatched Warwick, the great bulwark of his cause, in pursuit of her, and on the 12th of March, only five days afterwards, he followed himself. On reaching the Earl of Warwick, their combined troops amounted to 40,000. The queen was exerting all her activity and eloquence amongst her northern friends, and lay at York with 60,000 men. Everything denoted the eve of a bloody conflict.
This civil war was now known all over the world as the War of the Roses, a name said to be derived from a circumstance which took place in a dispute in the Temple Gardens betwixt Warwick and Somerset, at an early period of the rival factions. Somerset, in order to collect the suffrages of those on the side of Lancaster, is said to have plucked a red rose from a bush, and called upon every man who held with him to do the like. Warwick, for York, plucked a white rose, and thus the partisans were distinguishable by these differing badges. But in truth these badges were the badges of the two houses as far back as Edward III. Edmund, Earl of Lancaster, son of that king, wore the red rose, and the Black Prince the white. They were now adopted universally by the followers of the two houses, and rosettes of red or white ribbon, or even of paper, were worn by all the soldiers of these wars, red for Lancaster, white for York. They were soon to be equally dyed in a crimson torrent such as had yet rarely flowed in all the wars of England.
The vanguard of the two armies met at Ferrybridge, the passage of the river Ayre. The Duke of Somerset was commander-in-chief of the royal army. The king, queen, and prince remained at York. Lord Clifford led the vanguard, and was opposed by Lord Fitzwalter on the part of the Yorkists. The battle at the bridge was furious; Fitzwalter was killed. Lord Falconbridge was instantly sent forward to replace him, and instead of opposing Clifford in front in his strong position, allowing the troops there to hold him in play, he himself crossed the Ayre some miles above Ferrybridge, and falling unexpectedly on the rear of Clifford, routed his force, and revenged the death of Fitzwalter by that of Clifford himself. The Yorkists poured over the bridge, took possession of the town, and advanced towards Towton. Meantime, Warwick, excited by the temporary repulse at the bridge under Fitzwalter, had theatrically called for his horse, stabbed him in sight of the whole army, and kissing the hilt of his bloody sword, swore that he would fight on foot, and share every fatigue and disadvantage with the common soldiers. He then told them that every man who was not resolved to take a signal vengeance, and to act his part like a man in the battle about to be fought, was at full liberty to retire, but vowing the severest punishment to any one who in the battle itself should show the slightest symptom of yielding.
With minds inflamed to the utmost pitch of animosity,
