The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No 3, September, 1862

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It is next to certain that Richard did not stab Henry VI., nor the
murdered son of Margaret, though he had every provocation in the insults
showered upon his father; was devotedly attached to King Edward, and
hazarded for him person and life with a constancy then unparalleled and
a zeal rewarded by his brother's entire confidence.

Certain names wear a halter in history, and his was one. Richard I. was
assassinated in the siege of Chalone Castle; Richard II. was murdered at
Pomfret; Richard, Earl of Southampton, was executed for treason;
Richard, Duke of York, was beheaded with insult; his son, Richard III.,
fell by the perfidy of his nobles; Richard, the last Duke of York, was
probably murdered by his uncle, in the Tower.

At the decease of his brother Edward, the Duke of Gloucester was not
only the first prince of the blood royal, but was also a consummate
statesman, intrepid soldier, generous giver, and prompt executor,
naturally compassionate, as is proved by his large pensions to the
families of his enemies, to Lady Hastings, Lady Rivers, the Duchess of
Buckingham, and the rest; peculiarly devout, too, according to a pattern
then getting antiquated, as is shown by his endowing colleges of
priests, and bestowing funds for masses in his own behalf and others.
Shakspeare never loses an opportunity of painting Gloucester's piety as
sheer hypocrisy, but it was not thought so then; for there was a growing
Protestant party whom all these Romanist manifestations of the highest
nobleman in England greatly offended, not to say alarmed.

Richard's change of virtual into actual sovereignty, in other words, the
Lord Protector's usurpation of the crown, was not done by violence: in
his first royal procession he was unattended by troops; a fickle,
intriguing, ambitious, and warlike nobility approved the change;
Buckingham, Catesby, and others, urged it. No doubt he himself saw that
the crown was not a fit plaything for a twelve years' old boy, in such a
time of frequent treason, ferocious crime, and general recklessness.
There is no question but what, as Richard had more head than any man in
England, he was best fitted to be at its head.

The great mystery requiring to be explained is, not that 'the
Lancastrian partialities of Shakspeare have,' as Walter Scott said,
'turned history upside down,' and since the battle of Bosworth, no party
have had any interest in vindicating an utterly ruined cause, but how
such troops of nobles revolted against a monarch alike brave and
resolute, wise in council and energetic in act, generous to reward, but
fearful to punish.

The only solution I am ready to admit is, the imputed assassination of
his young nephews; not only an unnatural crime, but sacrilege to that
divinity which was believed to hedge a king. The cotemporary ballad of
the 'Babes in the Wood,' was circulated by Buckingham to inflame the
English heart against one to whom he had thrown down the gauntlet for a
deadly wrestle. Except that the youngest babe is a girl, and that the
uncle perishes in prison, the tragedy and the ballad wonderfully keep
pace together. In one, the prince's youth is put under charge of an
uncle 'whom wealth and riches did surround;' in the other, 'the uncle is
a man of high estate.' The play soothes the deserted mother with,
'Sister, have comfort;' the ballad with, 'Sweet sister, do not fear.'
The drama says that:

'Dighton and Forrest, though they were fleshed villains,
Wept like two children, in their death's sad story.'

And the poem:

'He bargained with two ruffians strong,
Who were of furious mood.'

But

'That the pretty speech they had,
Made murderous hearts relent,
And they that took to do the deed.
Full sore did now repent.'

There is a like agreement in their deaths:

'Thus, thus, quoth Dighton, girdling one another
Within their alabaster, innocent arms.'

And the ballad:

'In one another's arms they died.'

Finally, the greatest of English tragedies represents Richard's remorse
as:

'My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.'

While the most pathetic of English ballads gives it:

'And now the heavy wrath of God
Upon their uncle fell;
Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house.
His conscience felt a hell.'

As it is probable that this ballad was started on its rounds by
Buckingham, the arch-plotter, was eagerly circulated by the Richmond
conspirators, and sung all over the southern part of England as the
fatal assault on Richard was about to be made, we shall hardly wonder
that, in an age of few books and no journals, the imputed crime hurled a
usurper from his throne.

But was he really _guilty_? Did he deserve to be set up as this
scarecrow in English story? The weight of authority says, 'Yes;' facts
are coming to light in the indefatigable research now being made in
England, which may yet say: 'No.'

The charge was started by the unprincipled Buckingham to excuse his
sudden conversion from an accomplice, if Shakspeare is to be credited,
to a bloodthirsty foe. It was so little received that, months afterward,
the convocation of British clergy addressed King Richard thus, 'Seeing
your most noble and blessed disposition in all other things'--so little
received that when Richmond actually appeared in the field, there was no
popular insurrection in his behalf, only a few nobles joined him with
their own forces; and when their treason triumphed, and his rival sat
supreme on Richard's throne, the three pretended accomplices in the
murder of the princes were so far from punishment that their chief held
high office for nearly a score of years, and then perished for assisting
at the escape of Lady Suffolk, of the house of York. And when Perkin
Warbeck appeared in arms as the murdered Prince Edward, and the
strongest possible motive urged Henry VII. to justify his usurpation by
producing the bones of the murdered princes, (which two centuries
afterward were pretended to be found at the foot of the Tower-stairs,)
at least to publish to the world the three murderers' confessions, and
demonstrate the absurdity of the popular insurrection, Lord Bacon
himself says, that Henry could obtain no proof, though he spared neither
money nor effort! We have even the statement of Polydore Virgil, in a
history written by express desire of Henry VII., that 'it was generally
reported and believed that Edward's sons were still alive, having been
conveyed secretly away, and obscurely concealed in some distant region.'

And then the story is laden down with improbabilities. That Brakenbury
should have refused this service to so willful a despot, yet not have
fled from the penalty of disobedience, and even have received additional
royal favors, and finally sacrificed his life, fighting bravely in
behalf of the bloodiest villain that ever went unhung, is a large pill
for credulity to swallow.

Again, that a mere page should have selected as chief butcher a nobleman
high in office, knighted long before this in Scotland, and that this
same Sir Edward Tyrrel should have been continued in office around the
mother of the murdered princes, and honored year after year with high
office by Henry VII., and actually made confidential governor of
Guisnes, and royal commissioner for a treaty with France, seems
perfectly incredible. All of Shakspeare's representation of this most
slandered courtier is, indeed, utterly false; while Bacon's repetition
of the principal charges only shows how impossible it is to recover a
reputation that has once been lost, and how careless history has been in
repeating calumnies that have once found circulation.

Bayley's history of the Tower proves that what has been popularly
christened the Bloody Tower could never have been the scene of the
supposed murder; that no bones were found under any staircase there; so
that this pretended confirmation of the murder in the time of Charles
II., on which many writers have relied, vanishes into the stuff which
dreams are made of.

And yet by this charge which the antiquarian Stowe declared was 'never
proved by any credible witness,' which Grafton, Hall, and Holinshead
agreed could never be certainly known; which Bacon declared that King
Henry in vain endeavored to substantiate, a brave and politic monarch
lost his crown, life, and historic fame! Nay, it is a curious fact that
Richard could not safely contradict the report of the princes' deaths
when it broke out with the outbreak of civil war, because it would have
been furnishing to the rebellion a justifying cause and a royal head,
instead of a milksop whom he despised and felt certain to overthrow.

As it was, Richard left nothing undone to fortify his failing cause; he
may be thought even to have overdone. He doubled his spies, enlisted
fresh troops, erected fortifications, equipped fleets, twice had
Richmond at his fingers' ends, twice saw Providence take his side in the
dispersion of Richmond's fleet, the overthrow of Buckingham's force;
then was utterly ruined by the general treason of his most trusted
nobles and his not unnatural scorn of a pusillanimous rival. In vain did
he strive to be just and generous, vigilant and charitable, politic and
enterprising. The poor excuse for Buckingham's desertion, the refusal of
the grant of Hereford, is refuted by a Harleian MS. recording that royal
munificence; yet Buckingham, without any question, wove the net in which
this lion fell; he seduced the very officers of the court; he invited
Richmond over, assuring him of a popular uprising, which was proved to
be a mere mockery by the miserable handful that rallied around him,
until Richard fell at Bosworth. And after Buckingham's death, Richmond
merely followed _his_ plans, used the tools he had prepared, headed the
conspiracy which this unmitigated traitor arranged, and profited more
than Richard by his death, because he had not to fear an after-struggle
with Buckingham's insatiable ambition, overweening pride, and
unsurpassed popular power.

As one becomes familiar with the cotemporary statements, the fall of
Richard seems nothing but the treachery which provoked his last outcry
on the field of death. Even Catesby probably turned against him; his own
Attorney-General invited the invaders into Wales with promise of aid;
the Duke of Northumberland, whom Richard had covered over with honor,
held his half of the army motionless while his royal benefactor was
murdered before his eyes. Stanley was a snake in the grass in the next
reign as well as this, and at last expiated his double treason too late
upon the scaffold. Yet while the nobles went over to Richmond's side,
the common people held back; only three thousand troops, perhaps
personal retainers of their lords, united themselves to the two thousand
Richmond hired abroad. It was any thing but a popular uprising against
the jealous, hateful, bloody humpback of Shakspeare; it excuses the
fatal precipitancy with which the King (instead of gathering his troops
from the scattered fortifications) not only hurried on the battle, but,
when the mine of treason began to explode beneath his feet on Bosworth
field, refused to seek safety by flight, but heading a furious charge
upon Richmond, threw his life magnificently away.

Even had he been guilty of the great crime which cost him his crown, his
fate would have merited many a tear but for the unrivaled genius at
defamation with which the master-dramatist did homage to the triumphant
house of Lancaster. Lord Orford says, that it is evident the Tudors
retained all their Lancastrian prejudices even in the reign of
Elizabeth; and that Shakspeare's drama was patronized by her who liked
to have her grandsire presented in so favorable a light as the deliverer
of his native land from a bloody tyranny.

Even in taking the darkest view of his case, we find that other English
sovereigns had sinned the same: Henry I. probably murdered the elder
brother whom he robbed; Edward III. deposed his own father; Henry IV.
cheated his nephew of the sceptre, and permitted his assassination;
Shakspeare's own Elizabeth was not over-sisterly to Mary of Scotland;
all around Richard, robbery, treason, violence, lust, murder, were like
a swelling sea. Why was he thus singled out for the anathema of four
centuries? Why was the naked corpse of one who fell fighting valiantly,
thrown rudely on a horse's back? Why was his stone coffin degraded into
a tavern-trough, and his remains tossed out no man knew where? Not
merely that the Plantagenets never lifted their heads from the gory dust
any more, so that their conquerors wrote the epitaph upon their tombs,
and hired the annalists of their fame; but, still more, that the weak
and assailed Henry required every excuse for his invasion and
usurpation; and that the principal nobility of England wanted a
hiding-place for the shame of their violated oaths, their monstrous
perfidy, their cowardly abandonment in the hour of peril of one of the
bravest leaders, wisest statesmen, and most liberal princes England ever
knew.

THE NEGRO IN THE REVOLUTION.

Whether the negro can or ought to be employed in the Federal army, or in
any way, for the purpose of suppressing the present rebellion, is
becoming a question of very decided significance. It is a little late in
the day, to be sure, since it is probable that the expensive amusement
of dirt-and-shovel warfare might, by the aid of the black, have been
somewhat shorn of its expense, and our Northern army have counted some
thousands of lives more than it now does, had the contraband been freely
encouraged to delve for his deliverance. Still, there are signs of sense
being slowly manifested by the great conservative mass, and we every day
see proof that there are many who, to conquer the enemy, are willing to
do a bold or practical thing, even if it _does_ please the
Abolitionists. Like the rustic youth who was informed of a sure way to
obtain great wealth if he would pay a trifle, they would not mind
getting _that_ fortune if it _did_ cost a dollar. It _is_ a pity, of
course, saith conservatism, that the South can not be conquered in some
potent way which shall at least make it feel a little bad, and at the
same time utterly annihilate that rather respectably sized majority of
Americans who would gladly see emancipation realized. However, as the
potent way is not known, we must do the best we can. In its secret
conclaves, respectable conservatism shakes its fine old head, and
smoothing down the white cravat inherited from the late great and good
Buchanan, admits that the _Richmond Whig_ is almost right, after
all--this Federal cause _is_ very much in the nature of a 'servile
insurrection' of Northern serfs against gentlemen; '_mais que
voulez-vous?_--we have got into the wrong boat, and must sink or swim
with the maddened Helots! And conservatism sighs for the good old days
when they blasphemed _Liberty_ at their little suppers,

'And--blest condition!-felt genteel.'

To be sure, the portraits of Puritan or Huguenot or Revolutionary
ancestors frowned on them from the walls--the portraits of men who had
risked all things for freedom; ''but this is a different state of
things, you know;' we have changed all that--the heart is on the other
side of the body now--let us be discreet!'

It is curious, in this connection of employing slaves as workmen or
soldiers, with the remembrance of the progressive gentlemen of the olden
time who founded this republic, to see what the latter thought in their
day of such aid in warfare. And fortunately we have at hand what we
want, in a very _multum in parvo_ pamphlet[5] by George H. Moore,
Librarian of the New-York Historical Society. From this we learn that
while great opposition to the project prevailed, owing to wrong
judgment as to the capacity of the black, the expediency and even
necessity of employing him was, during the events of the war, forcibly
demonstrated, and that, when he _was_ employed in a military capacity,
he proved himself a good soldier.

There were, however, great and good men during the Revolution, who
warmly sustained the affirmative. The famous Dr. Hopkins wrote as
follows in 1776:

'God is so ordering it in his providence, that it seems absolutely
necessary something should speedily be done with respect to the
slaves among us, in order to our safety, and to prevent their
turning against us in our present struggle, in order to get their
liberty. Our oppressors have planned to gain the blacks, and induce
them to take up arms against us, by promising them liberty on this
condition; and this plan they are prosecuting to the utmost of
their power, by which means they have persuaded numbers to join
them. And should we attempt to restrain them by force and severity,
keeping a strict guard over them, and punishing them severely who
shall be detected in attempting to join our opposers, this will
only be making bad worse, and serve to render our inconsistence,
oppression and cruelty more criminal, perspicuous and shocking, and
bring down the righteous vengeance of heaven on our heads. The only
way pointed out to prevent this threatening evil, is to set the
blacks at liberty ourselves by some public acts and laws, and then
give them proper encouragement to labor, or take arms in the
defense of the American cause, as they shall choose. This would at
once be doing them some degree of justice, and defeating our
enemies in the scheme they are prosecuting.'

'These,' says Mr. Moore, 'were the views of a philanthropic divine, who
urged them upon the Continental Congress and the owners of slaves
throughout the colonies with singular power, showing it to be at once
their duty and their interest to adopt the policy of emancipation.' They
did not meet with those of the administration of any of the colonies,
and were formally disapproved. But while the enlistment of negroes was
prohibited, the fact is still notorious, as Bancroft says, that 'the
roll of the army at Cambridge had from its first formation borne the
names of men of color.' 'Free negroes stood in the ranks by the side of
white men. In the beginning of the war, they had entered the provincial
army; the first general order which was issued by Ward had required a
return, among other things, of the 'complexion' of the soldiers; and
black men, like others, were retained in the service after the troops
were adopted by the continent.'

It was determined on, at war-councils and in committees of conference,
in 1775, that negroes should be rejected from the enlistments; and yet
General Washington found, in that same year, that the negroes, if not
employed in the American army, would become formidable foes when
enlisted by the enemy. We may judge, from a note given by Mr. Moore,
that Washington had at least a higher opinion than his _confreres_ of
the power of the black. His apprehensions, we are told, were grounded
somewhat on the operations of Lord Dunmore, whose proclamation had been
issued declaring 'all indented servants, negroes or others,
(appertaining to rebels,) free,' and calling on them to join his
Majesty's troops. It was the opinion of the commander-in-chief, that if
Dunmore was not crushed before spring, he would become the most
formidable enemy America had; 'his strength will increase as a snow-ball
by rolling, and faster, if some expedient can not be hit upon to
convince the slaves and servants of the impotency of his designs.'
Consequently, in general orders, December 30th, he says:

'As the General is informed that numbers of free negroes are
desirous of enlisting, he gives leave to the recruiting-officers to
entertain them, and promises to lay the matter before the Congress,
who, he doubts not, will approve of it.'

Washington communicated his action to Congress, adding: 'If this is
disapproved of by Congress, I will put a stop to it.'

His letter was referred to a committee of three, (Mr. Wythe, Mr. Adams,
and Mr. Wilson,) on the fifteenth of January, 1776, and upon their
report on the following day the Congress determined:

'That the free negroes who have served faithfully in the army at
Cambridge may be reenlisted therein, but no others.'

That Washington, at a later period at least, warmly approved of the
employment of blacks as soldiers, appears from his remarks to Colonel
Laurens, subsequent to his failure to carry out what even as an effort
forms one of the most remarkable episodes of the Revolution, full
details of which are given in Mr. Moore's pamphlet.

On March 14th, 1779, Alexander Hamilton wrote to John Jay, then
President of Congress, warmly commending a plan of Colonel Laurens, the
object of which was to raise three or four battalions of negroes in
South-Carolina. We regret that our limits render it impossible to give
the whole of this remarkable document, which is as applicable to the
present day as it was to its own.

'I foresee that this project will have to combat much opposition
from prejudice and self-interest. The contempt we have been taught
to entertain for the blacks makes us fancy many things that are
founded neither in reason nor experience; and an unwillingness to
part with property of so valuable a kind will furnish a thousand
arguments to show the impracticability, or pernicious tendency, of
a scheme which requires such sacrifices. But it should be
considered that if we do not make use of them in this way, the
enemy probably will; and that the best way to counteract the
temptations they will hold out, will be to offer them ourselves. An
essential part of the plan is to give them their freedom with their
swords. This will secure their fidelity, animate their courage,
and, I believe, will have a good influence upon those who remain,
by opening a door to their emancipation.

'This circumstance, I confess, has no small weight in inducing me
to wish the success of the project; for the dictates of humanity
and true policy equally interest me in favor of this unfortunate
class of men.

'While I am on the subject of Southern affairs, you will excuse the
liberty I take in saying, that I do not think measures sufficiently
vigorous are pursuing for our defense in that quarter. Except the
few regular troops of South-Carolina, we seem to be relying wholly
on the militia of that and two neighboring States. These will soon
grow impatient of service, and leave our affairs in a miserable
situation. No considerable force can be uniformly kept up by
militia, to say nothing of the many obvious and well-known
inconveniences that attend this kind of troops. I would beg leave
to suggest, sir, that no time ought to be lost in making a draft of
militia to serve a twelve-month, from the States of North and
South-Carolina and Virginia. But South-Carolina, being very weak in
her population of whites, may be excused from the draft, on
condition of furnishing the black battalions. The two others may
furnish about three thousand five hundred men, and be exempted, on
that account, from sending any succors to this army. The States to
the northward of Virginia will be fully able to give competent
supplies to the army here; and it will require all the force and
exertions of the three States I have mentioned to withstand the
storm which has arisen, and is increasing in the South.

'The troops drafted must be thrown into battalions, and officered
in the best possible manner. The best supernumerary officers may be
made use of as far as they will go. If arms are wanted for their
troops, and no better way of supplying them is to be found, we
should endeavor to levy a contribution of arms upon the militia at
large. Extraordinary exigencies demand extraordinary means. I fear
this Southern business will become a very _grave_ one.

'With the truest respect and esteem,
I am, sir, your most obedient servant,
ALEXANDER HAMILTON.

'His Excellency, JOHN JAY,
President of Congress,'

The project was warmly approved by Major-General Greene, and Laurens
himself, who proposed to lead the blacks, was enthusiastic in his hopes.
In a letter written about this time, he says:

'It appears to me that I should be inexcusable in the light of a
citizen, if I did not continue my utmost efforts for carrying the
plan of the black levies into execution, while there remains the
smallest hope of success. The House of Representatives will be
convened in a few days. I intend to qualify, and make a final
effort. Oh! that I were a Demosthenes! The Athenians never deserved
a more bitter exprobation than our countrymen.'

But the Legislature of South-Carolina decided, as might have been
expected from the most tory of States in the Revolution, as it now is
the most traitorous in the Emancipation--for it is by _that_ name that
this war will be known in history. It rejected Laurens' proposal--his
own words give the best account of the failure:

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