The time was now come to throw off the mask, for the climax of hypocrisy had been reached, and Gloucester, never slow to act when the decisive moment arrived, immediately put his foot on the neck of the coveted opportunity. There was no hesitation in the declaration he then made; he "perceived" that the "whole realm was bent upon it not to have King Edward's children to govern them, of which he was sorry,"--and that "he knew the Crown could belong to no man so justly as ourself," a claim now confirmed and joined also by "your election, the Nobles and Commons of this Realm," the which of all titles "possible," he took to be the most effectual, he did therefore "content and agree favourably to receive your petition and request,"--and would forthwith from that day forward, "take upon us the royal estate, to rule, govern, and defend."
"Stand all apart,--Cousin of Buckingham, Give me thy hand;--thus high by thy advice And thy assistance is King Richard seated."
So the farce ended, and the deputation retired. Buckingham had placed the crown on the grisly brow of the White Boar, who, in return was destined not long afterward to rend him that offered it to the heart.
The assumption of the royal dignity by Gloucester, brings to a conclusion the first half of our little narrative, relating to the man who thus offered it to him.
Two equally remarkable, much-alike, and unenviable-in-conduct, personages, are now presented to us, who had both risen to the highest positions in their native land, the one to supreme authority as king; the other his faithful, and almost unscrupulous lieutenant, henchman, and catspaw, possessing a rivalling royal descent, but little removed in directness from his own, to be from this service the most important and influential of that king's subjects. A very dangerous and crazy alliance between men of such kindred character and aspirations, and destined assuredly not to last long.
Life never stands still,--in the very nature of things it cannot,--nor remain long on an even, which means literally a dead level: it must progress or recede. This is true generally of all life, but specially so of one animated by ambitious longings. A spirit so prompted must continue to ascend if there be any altitude to win, but if this be denied, and the unstable path it follows at last begins to sink rather than to rise beneath the advancing step, and points to the dread bourne of obscurity and neglect; or, if the powerful antagonism of rival claims and influence jostle it on one side and precede it; or, the cold shadow of preference, joined with indifference and crushed hopes paralyze its future efforts, there is neither anchorage nor haven for the beaten bark, then the bitter promptings of envy and shattered pride but too often occupy the heart instead, give demon wings to its future course, urging it fatally onward to end in the blind and reckless shipwreck of all.