for purposes of parade; though tradition describes him as too ill-formed in his person, and of too mean a stature, to grace a stately procession.

He took care that this coronation should be unusually splendid. The lady Margaret, countess of Richmond, once spoken of in parliament as heir to the crown*, was obliged to bear the train of Richard's queen, Anne Nevile; whilst the duke of Buckingham supported that of Richard himself. But the duke had a disposition which resembled the king's, not only in indifference to frightful crimes, but in vanity. He had wished to be made high constable of England, which would have given him a place in the procession more favorable to personal display; whilst Richard, willing to conciliate lord Stanley, had bestowed the office on that nobleman, at the same time that he released him from arrest. As little things are important to little minds, this disappointment seems to have put an immediate end to the zeal with which the Duke had hitherto served the usurper. Yet the king's promise, that Buckingham should have the Hereford estates, was duly kept. For Richard was not covetous of wealth. He valued it only as a means of maintaining splendour, or of purchasing power. Judging from his own heart, he thought that there was no moral principle which would not give way to the prospect of aggrandizement; and he was therefore lavish of manors and pensions, to those whom he wished to fix in his interest. Whilst as an expedient for gaining popularity, and gratifying his love of parade at the same time, he made a journey from London to York, by Gloucester, with his queen and court in attendance; stopping to receive and give entertainments, and bestowing various favours, in the different large towns, which this circuitous route enabled him to visit.

But whilst striving to appear a lover of justice, and fond of mercy, in the eyes of the people, he was filling up the measure of his iniquity. At Gloucester he parted with the duke of BuckingJuly 30. ham, as though he would give him leave to put his Welsh estates in order, and needed no farther service from him, than to keep bishop Morton in safe custody, in his castle of Brecon, the duke's favorite residence. But the haughty Buckingham thought himself sent out of the way, as one no longer welcome to share the honors of the court, in its farther progress. Whereas it is probable that Richard's chief aim, in discouraging his accompanying it any farther, was to be rid of the presence of a nobleman likely to question him, without reserve, as to his plans for the future treatment of his nephews. For, from Gloucester, the king had already sent off one Greene, with a message to Sir Robert Brackenbury, the constable of the Tower; suggesting that he should make away with them. Proceeding thence to Warwick, the king Aug. 8. was there rejoined by Greene; who informed him that Brackenbury refused compliance. On which he exclaimed, in great displeasure, Whom shall a man trust, when those I have myself brought up will do nothing for me?' An attendant, who heard this, observed that a gentleman lay upon a pallet, in the outer chamber, who would think nothing too hard to do, that might please the king. The gentleman was sir James Tyrrell, a hungry courtier, who being called to speak with the king, proved as unprincipled as the attendant had thought him; and undertook to do his sovereign's will with out any reserves.

A few days after this, Tyrrell came into Brackenbury's presence, with a letter from king Richard; requiring him to surrender the custody of that fortress to the bearer, for one night.

When Edward V. had heard that the protector

MURDER OF THE PRINCES.

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was to be crowned instead of him, he said, "Alas! I wish my uncle would let me have my life, if I am to lose my kingdom?" And finding, soon, that his brother and he were kept close shut up, with but one rude attendant, he ceased, from that time, to pay any heed to his dress; whilst both the unhappy boys gave themselves up to tears and despondency. Yet, as each melancholy day ended, youth and weariness made them sleep sound; so that Forest and Dighton, the wretches sent by Tyrrell, at midnight, into their chamber, wrapped the bed cloaths over the unprotected children's faces, before they were aware; and the stillness, which followed a few faint struggles, soon told the murderers that their foul deed was done; upon which they called in Tyrrell, who bade the men bury their victims at the foot of the stairs.

Their spirits had returned unto God who gave them; and who, by suffering this crime, saved their souls from the guilt of those sins to which their elevated rank would have tempted them with overpowering force, in those evil days." Whilst few could hear of their death without witnessing to the justice of GOD; when they reflected how the wickedness of Edward IV., in bidding his brother Clarence to be put to death in that same Tower, had been permitted to bring about the destruction of his family; by making his sons stand alone between his remaining brother's ambition, and the crown of England. Had their father spared Clarence, the duke of Gloucester would have had no motive for seeking these children's lives.

Conscious of this rank offence, the king moved on to York; and vainly sought pleasure in the shows of a second coronation, for which he had written from thence, to order his officers to send him more splendid dresses, and gilded armour;

specifying each article of silk, or velvet, or jewellery, in his order, with a particularity which might rather have been expected from such a character as Edward II., than from the sanguinary Richard III. He now also declared his young son, prince of Wales, and governor of Ireland; having had the boy conveyed to York in a chariot, one of the first mentioned as used in England. It was probably only superior to a covered cart from its decorations, and from being furnished with cushions and curtains.

But whilst the king was keeping his court at York, bishop Morton had taken advantage of the duke of Buckingham's weak mind, unsatisfied ambition, and disappointed pride, to make him as desirous of pulling down king Richard as he had lately been to set him up; and had brought him to correspond with such influential persons, in various parts of the kingdom, as that prelate knew to be dissatisfied with the late revolution. And these parties bound themselves to take up arms in defence of the children of Edward IV.; and to restore the crown to his son. Reports of this conspiracy, how ever, soon reached the king; and he thought to dispel it by announcing, that the young princes in the Tower were dead. But the intelligence occasioned a general cry of horror. Men accustomed to deeds of violence had overlooked his putting to death Rivers, Grey, Vaughan, and Hastings, regarding those executions as merely illegal acts; which they themselves would have felt little scruple about ordering, for so splendid a prize as he had aimed at, and won. But the secret murder of his helpless and injured nephews, was such a crime as most people persuaded themselves they would have been incapable of committing, under any temptation. Hence, though the conspirators were disconcerted for a little while, by learning that Edward V. was beyond the reach of their help, it did but enable bishop Morton,

8

THE EARL OF RICHMOND.

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who had begun life with the partialities of a Lancastrian, to recall to Buckingham's remembrance, that his family had been long attached, and was most nearly allied to, the house of Lancaster; and that his cousin, the lady Margaret, had a son abroad, Henry Tudor, the young earl of Richmond, who, if placed on the throne as heir, through her, to the Lancastrian claims, might reconcile the Yorkists to his reign, by marrying Edward's daughter, Elizabeth, now heiress to all her father's rights.

When this new scheme was laid before the duke of Buckingham, he instantly embraced it; as though he were eager to emulate the vain-glorious character of king-making Warwick. His prisoner, the bishop, was now become his favorite counsellor ; and was empowered to open a communication with the mothers of the earl and princess. And this Morton's management soon effected. Reginald Bray, a gentleman attached to the house of Lancaster, was sent forthwith to lady Margaret, now remarried to lord Stanley; and she bade him assure the duke, that her son would gladly accept the proposed match; and should hear from her, that he might trust to his advice. She next employed a Welsh physician in her service, named Lewes, to make known their intentions to Edward's queen; and though king Richard had lately planted guards about the sanctuary of Westminster, to prevent her and her children from escaping to his enemies; Lewes got access to her, under the pretence of having medicines to administer; and obtained her joyful promise, that the earl of Richmond should have her daughter, and should be assisted by all the friends it was in her power to influence. Upon hearing this, the active countess dispatched another confidential agent, Hugh Conway, to the court of the duke of Bretagne; to apprize her son of all that was passing in his favour. A messenger from the duke of Buckingham soon followed, to inform the