MIDDLEHAM CASTLE AND RICHARD III.

Na rocky eminence near the small market town of Middleham, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, are the ruins of the ancient castle, built about 1190 by Robert Fitz-Ranulph. In the reign of Henry vi. it belonged to the Earl of Salisbury, who marched hence with 4000 men towards London to demand redress for his son's grievances. Here, also, according to Stow, the bastard Falconbridge was beheaded in 1471. Edward IV. was confined for a time in Middleham Castle by Richard Nevill, Earl of Warwick, after he had been taken prisoner at Wolvey, but he subsequently escaped while hunting in the park.

After defeating the Earl of Warwick at Barnet, Edward IV. gave Middleham Castle to his brother, the Duke of Gloucester, afterwards Richard III., who took a great liking to the place, and who was preparing to found a college. in Frodingham Field when he died. The church of St. Mary and St. Alkeld, at Middleham, had been made collegiate by Richard when Duke of Gloucester.

His only son Edward was born here; but since that time

hardly anything is known of the history of the castle, except that it was inhabited in 1609 by Sir Henry Linley. Tradition says that it was reduced to ruins by Cromwell; but there is no historical evidence to prove it.

The character of Richard the Third has been so vilified by party historians, that only of late years has the general reader given the short-lived monarch credit for any qualities likely to render him popular. In seeking to clear him of great crimes, however, he is proved to have possessed patriotism and integrity. After the victory of Towton, the title of Duke of Gloucester, with an ample appanage in the shape of lordships and manors, were at once conferred on Richard, who, at an unusually early age, was also appointed to three or four offices of the highest trust and dignity; and he amply justified the confidence reposed in him. That he was brave we are assured. The chief glory of the well-fought field of Barnet belonged to Richard; but unluckily it was the scene of a tragedy in which the part of the first villain has been popularly assigned to him.

Richard's superiority to all sordid considerations was strikingly displayed during the invasion of France in 1475, when Edward, at the head of one of the finest armies that ever left the English coast, was cajoled and out-manœuvred by Louis XI. into doing worse than nothing. The expedition ended in a disgraceful treaty, by which Edward was to receive certain sums of money which he wanted for his personal pleasures. Richard alone refused to barter Eng

lish honour for French gold. Only the Duke of Gloucester, who stood aloof on the other side for honour, frowned at this accord, and expressed much sorrow, as compassionating the glory of his nation blemished in it.' Habington, from whom we quote, suggests that the Duke had a further and more dangerous aim: As who, by the dishonour of his brothers, thought his credit received increase; and by how much the king sank in opinion, he should rise.' Bacon adopts the same method of depreciation: And that out of this deep root of ambition it sprang that, as well as the treaty of peace, as upon all other occasions, Richard, then Duke of Gloucester, stood ever upon the side of honour, raising his own reputation to the disadvantage of the king his brother, and drawing the eyes of all (especially of the nobles and soldiers) upon himself.' We have here, from his worst calumniators, the admitted fact that, down to 1475, his means were noble, be his end and motives what they may.

Richard was for several years Lord Warden, or Keeper of the Northern Marches; and while residing in a sort of royal capacity at York, he so ingratiated himself with the people of that city and neighbourhood, that they stood by him to the last. On the death of his brother he was in the fulness of his fame as a soldier and statesman. He was also the first prince of the blood; and he must have been endowed with an amount of stoical indifference and self-denial, seldom found in high places at any time, if no ambitious hopes dawned upon him.

The received accounts of Richard's mode of ascending the throne are contradictory; and it is difficult to believe that he laid much stress on the voices of the rabble in Guildhall, although here again Shakspeare is supported by More. Richard must have been sure of a powerful party, or he never would have ventured to present himself as king before the very Parliament which he had summoned. in the name of the nephew he deposed. This important fact is made clear by Mr. Gairdner, who, admitting that this Parliament was not formally called together, asserts that it did meet, and that the petition to Richard to assume the crown was presented by a deputation of the lords and commons of England, accompanied by another from the city of London, on the very day that had been originally appointed for its meeting.

From this mock election in June, says More, Richard commenced his reign, and was crowned in July with the same provision that was made for the coronation of his nephew. The day before the ceremony, he and his queen rode from the Tower through the city to Westminster, with a train comprising three dukes, nine earls, and twenty-two barons. There was a large attendance of peers, lay and spiritual, and great dignitaries at the ensuing ceremony in Westminster Hall; and More records as most observable, that the Countess of Richmond, mother to King Henry VII., bore up the queen's train in the procession. Richard soon afterwards left London on a royal progress towards York, where he was crowned a second time.

in his beaver, five or six wounds in his arms and shoulders, and had two horses killed under him. Twice he made his way through the whole body of the enemy; but being overwhelmed with numbers, mounting a third horse, he, with Governor Greenhalgh and five others, fought his way through, and, with his wounds green and sore, he was enabled to join his Majesty in the fatal field of Worcester, September 3d. From this battle Derby conducted the king to the Whiteladies and Boscobel; thence making his way into Cheshire with about forty others, he fell in the way of a regiment of foot and a troop of horse, to whom he surrendered on quarter for life and conditions for honourable usage. These terms of surrender were most disgracefully violated; the Earl was tried by court-martial on a charge of high treason, and sentence of death was passed upon him, directing his execution to take place in four days at his own town of Bolton. Meanwhile, he wrote a long and affectionate letter to his wife. Derby had nearly escaped from the leads of the castle at Chester by means of a long rope thrown up to him from the outside of the fortress: he fastened this securely, slid down, and got down to the banks of the river Dee, where a boat was waiting to convey him. away. He was here discovered, seized, conveyed back to the castle, and more securely guarded, until his removal to Leigh, and thence to Bolton for execution. The Earl, after his attempt to escape, wrote another sorrowful letter to his wife, and one to his children in the Isle of Man. His two daughters, Lady Catherine and Lady Amelia, who were in