should die, he answered that, if it were his sovereign's pleasure, he willingly submitted thereunto.' This appears upon the examination of John Hall, taken in parliament, anno 1 Hen. IV., who being privy to, though not active in, the said murder, was sentenced to be executed at Tyburn, and his head sent to Calais, where the fact was done."

This foul deed, which was perpetrated on the 8th of September, in the twenty-first year of Richard the Second's reign, was too much in accordance with the savage spirit of those days to excite much horror at the time, or much wonder amongst ourselves. Still it is hardly possible, even at the present hour, to refrain from a feeling of satisfaction when we read how all concerned in the murder eventually met with a just retribution, though not in punishment of the crime in question. Precisely on that day twelvemonth, when Mowbray had seized upon the unfortunate Duke, he himself was sentenced to perpetual banishment by the very voice that had instigated him to the deed; in little more than two years after, Richard, the chief criminal, was deposed, imprisoned, and, in his turn, fell by the hand of an assassin.

"Even-handed justice

Commends th' ingredient of our poisoned chalice
To our own lips."

In due time, his friends,—or, rather, the enemies of his enemies,―being uppermost, the empty honours of a noble interment were bestowed upon the Duke. His body was conveyed to Plashy, where it was laid in a handsome sepulchre, which he had caused to be built during his lifetime in the college of Canons Regular, founded by himself, and dedicated to the Holy Trinity. At a yet later period, his reliques were again removed, and were then deposited under a marble, inlaid with brass, in the royal chapel in Westminster Abbey, upon the south side of the shrine of Edward the Confessor. This princely

G

monument is adorned with figures of himself, of the Duchess Eleanor, his first wife; of King Edward, his father; of Queen Philippa, his mother; and of all his brothers and sisters; with scutcheons of their several arms.

Margaret of Clarence, Countess of

Salisbury,

F this lady, the last of the Plantagenets, the records are exceedingly meagre and imperfect. She was the second daughter of George, Duke of Clarence, who, after having sided with all parties, and betrayed all parties-no unusual occurrence in those days-was attainted, as the partial chroniclers will have it, by a yet greater dissembler than himself, the hunch-backed Duke of Gloucester,*

The researches of Horace Walpole have thrown some doubts upon the alleged personal deformity of Richard the Third; and it may be doubted whether a more accurate enquiry into the subject than it has hitherto met with, might not go far to dispel the clouds that hung over the unlucky Richard, or, at least, to reduce his imputed atrocities to the general level of his times, and show that, with much more talent for command, he was not morally worse than his contemporaries. As his character has been handed down to us by the chroniclers, and imitated by Shakspeare,-all writing under the influence of Henry the Eighth, or of his scarcely less despotic daughter,-he presents not a human being, but one of those Saracenic heads with which children seek to frighten each other in the dark. In the spirit of fairness, let us take the following anecdote, recorded by Peck in his "Desiderata Curiosa," in which we shall see this terrific ogre, as we have been taught to believe him, endowed with the gentlest and kindest feelings of a parent, such as we might vainly seek for in some fathers, who have sunk into the grave with a much fairer reputation.

and put to death by immersion in a butt of malmsey. On the maternal side she was scarcely less nobly descended, her mother having been Isabel Neville, the eldest daughter of Richard, Earl of Warwick,-" proud setter up and puller down of kings."

Margaret was born at Farley Castle, near Bath, in Somerset

This document comes to us in the form of a letter from Dr. Brett, LL.D., to his friend, Dr. Warren, LL.D., by whom it was communicated to the antiquary, Peck.

·

1. "Now for the story of Richard Plantagenet. In the year 1720—I have forgot the particular day, only remember it was about Christmas-I waited on the late Lord Heneage, Earl of Winchilsea, at Eastwell House, and found him sitting with the register book of the parish of Eastwell lying open before him. He told me that he had been looking there to see who of his own family were mentioned in it. But,' says he, I have a curiosity here to show you.' And then showed me; and I immediately transcribed it into my almanack. 'Richard Plantagenet was buryed the 22 daye of December, Anno ut supra. Ex Registro de Eastwell, sub Anno 1550.' This is all the register mentions of him, so that we cannot say whether he was buried in the church or churchyard; nor is there now any other memorial of him, except the tradition in the family, and some little marks of the place where his house stood. The story my Lord told me was thus:

:

2. "When Sir Thomas Moyle built that house, that is, Eastwell Place,he observed his chief bricklayer, whenever he left off work, retired with a book. Sir Thomas had a curiosity to know what book that man read, but was some time before he could discover it, he still putting the book up if any one came toward him. However, at last Sir Thomas surprised him, and snatched the book from him, and looking into it found it to be Latin. Hereupon he examined him, and finding he pretty well understood that language, he enquired how he came by his learning. Hereupon the man told him, as he had been a good master to him, he would venture to trust him with a secret he had never before revealed to any one. He then informed him

3. "That he was boarded with a Latin schoolmaster, without knowing who his parents were, 'till he was fifteen or sixteen years old; only a gentleman, who took occasion to acquaint him he was no relation to him, came once a quarter and paid for his board, and took care to see that he wanted nothing. And one day this gentleman took him and carried him to a fine great house, where he passed through several stately rooms, in one of which he left him, bidding him stay there.

4. "Then a man finely dressed, with a star and garter, came to him; asked him some questions; talked kindly to him; and gave him some money. Then the forementioned gentleman returned, and conducted him back to his school.

shire; but in what month, or in what year, would appear to be doubtful. That it could not have occurred long after the 18th of February, 1477, is certain, for it was at that date her father was put to death through the intrigues of his brother, Gloucester. There is the same difficulty in ascertaining the exact time of her marriage with Sir Richard Pole, although there is no lack of evidence with respect to the knight's family, which

5. "Some time after, the same gentleman came to him again, with a horse and proper accoutrements, and told him he must take a journey with him into the country. They went into Leicestershire, and came to Bosworth Field, and he was carried to King Richard the Third's tent. The king embraced him, and told him he was his son. 'But, child,' says he, 'to-morrow I must fight for my crown. And assure yourself, if I lose that, I will lose my life too; but I hope to preserve both. Do you stand in such a place,' directing him to a particular place, where you may see the battle out of danger. And when I have gained the victory, come to me; I will then own you to be mine, and take care of you. But if I should be so unfortunate as to lose the battle, then shift as well as you can, and take care to let nobody know that I am your father, for no mercy will be shown to any one so nearly related to me.' Then the king gave him a purse of gold, and dismissed him.

6. "He followed the king's directions. And when he saw the battle was lost and the king killed, he hasted to London, sold his horse and fine clothes, and the better to conceal himself from all suspicion of being son to a king, and that he might have means to live by his honest labour, he put himself apprentice to a bricklayer. But having a competent skill in the Latin tongue, he was unwilling to lose it; and having an inclination also to reading, and no delight in the conversation of those he was obliged to work with, he generally spent all the time he had to spare in reading by himself.

"7. Sir Thomas said, 'You are now old, and almost past your labour; I will give you the running of my kitchen as long as you live.' He answered, 'Sir, you have a numerous family; I have been used to live retired; give me leave to build a house of one room in such a field, and there, with your good leave, I will live and die. And if you have any work that I can do for you, I shall be ready to serve you.' Sir Thomas granted his request; he built his house, and there continued to his death.'"

In reading these details, one cannot help building up strange fancies as to what the genius of Shakspeare might have done with the interview between the father and the son the night before the battle, had he been aware of such a story, and not withheld from using it by any Lancastrian prejudices. In his hands what a humanizing colouring would have been given to the character of Richard, which, as it now stands, is all shadow.