This is the first time I have read one of Bulwer Lytton's novels. I have an Oxford World's Classics edition of his Harold, but only know the titles of others - such as Rienzi, The Last Days of Pompeii, Eugene Aram and Kenelm Chillingly. That he was well regarded in his time can be inferred from Anthony Trollope's comment, Bulwer was a man of very great parts...very much more than amusement may be obtained from his novels; and Professor Jowett, preaching his funeral sermon, spoke of him as a man of genuine kindness, of endless activity of mind of great knowledge, and of a noble interest in literature and literary men. Nearly all his novels came out in three volumes, two of them in four. With The Last of the Barons, he had two main objects in mind: first, to portray the mid 15th century as the passing of the age of feudalism into that of commercialism. Warwick was the representative of the feudal State, Edward IV the merchant King. Bulmer often makes reference to this gradual formation of a class between knight and vassal - which became first constitutionally visible and distinct in the reign of Henry VII. Bulwer argues that both Edward IV and Richard III had a determined desire...to destroy the dangerous influence of the old feudal aristocracy.
Secondly, to assess the character of Warwick and to supply an answer to one of the great mysteries of history - why did this staunch supporter of the House of York, so suddenly in 1470 not only take up arms against Edward, whom he had put on the throne, but to espouse the cause of the Lancastrians, his lifelong enemies? Lytton suggests that Edward attempted an assault on Warwick's younger daughter, Anne. Hence the hatred, but also hence the secrecy.
The tale starts in the early spring of 1467 and ends with Warwick's death on the battlefield of Barnet on 14th April 1471. The first scene is placed near the hamlet of Charing, the setting for a bout of holiday games such as archery and the quarterstaff. The characters are a mixture of fictitious and historical - Lord Montague, Warwick's brother, and Lord Hastings amongst the latter. Two youths, the Northern Marmaduke Neville and the London trader Nicholas Alwyn (later Lord Mayor of London in 1499, deceased in 1505), represent the past and the future. Linked up with them all for much of the story, is Adam Warner - fanatically attached to his 'machine' which will turn out to be a wonder of science and the world, and his pure daughter Sybill.
The story is too convoluted to go into in detail, but I was particularly interested in the portrayal of the main historical characters.
Warwick is in the lusty vigour of his age...with his high, majestic, smooth, unwrinkled forehead, - like some Paladin of the rhyme of poet or romance; his brother Montague is realistically sketched as a more malleable figure, drawn unwillingly into the clash with Edward IV.
Edward IV - brave in battle, no fool but too easily ensnared in a hedonistic life and seemingly controlled by his wife and her family.
Elizabeth Woodville is not favoured by the author: with an eye which never looked direct or straight upon its object, but wandered sidelong with a furtive and stealthy expression, that did much to obtain for her the popular character of falseness and self-seeking.
The Duke and Duchess Isabel of Clarence - the husband a weak, vacillating fool; the wife coldly ambitious.
Richard, duke of Gloucester (b. 1452) is in his late teens when he is first mentioned (on p.139 of volume I). It refers to his love of music; Bulwer gives as his source Sharon Turner's History of England. The author comments that Gloucester, by dint of custom each day can wield mace or axe with as much ease as a jester doth his lathe-sword. Richard was still a boy, whose intellect was not yet fully developed, but in whom was already apparent to the observant, the dawn of a restless, fearless, calculating, and subtle genius... Moreover, Bulwer concurs in the traditional belief of Richard's involvement in the murder of his two nephews, who breathed their last in the Tower. When Montagu reminds Richard of Edward's pre-contract to Lady Eleanor Talbot, the former dropped his eyes, abashed before that steady, unrevealing gaze, which seemed to pierce into other hearts, and shew nothing of the heart within. Bulmer heads in Chapter VI in the final volume, The Subtle Craft of Richard of Gloucester: here he is urged by Montagu to support Warwick and Clarence against Edward; here he muses over the marriage of Anne Neville to Prince Edward of Lancaster and how it would it affects his own claim. And then, with that wondrous, if somewhat too restless and over-refining energy which belonged to him, Richard rapidly detailed the scheme of his profound and dissimulating policy. His keen and intuitive insight into human nature had shewn him the stern necessity which, against their very will must unite Warwick with Margaret of Anjou. Only in passing does Bulwer refer to Richard's physical 'problem' - Richard, clad in a loose chamber robe, which concealed the defects of his shape...The author makes Edward say admiringly about his youngest brother: "O young boy's smooth face! - O old man's deep brain!...what a king hadst thou made!"
And at the Battle of Barnet: through the mists, the blood-red manteline he wore over his mail, the grinning teeth of the boar's head which created his helmet, flashed and gleamed wherever his presence was most need to encourage the flagging or spur on the fierce. And there seemed to both armies something ghastly and preternatural in the savage strength of this small, slight figure thus startlingly caprisoned, and which was heard evermore uttering its sharp war-cry - "Gloucester, to the onslaught!" As he looks down on the dead Warwick, Richard mutters, The Age of Force expires with knighthood and deeds of arms. And over this dead great man I see the New Cycle dawn. Happy, henceforth, he who can plot, and scheme, and fawn, and smile!" The final volume ends with Elizabeth Woodville clasping her infant son to her bosom and looking at Gloucester - the only life, save the despised and powerless Clarence...which stood between the ambition of a ruthless intellect and the heritage of the English throne!
William Hastings, although full credence is given to the popular image of a man who pursued the fairer sex, is given a positive image by Bulwer. His mind is profound and vast; all men praise him, save the Queen's kin. He loves scholars; he is mild to distress; he laughs at the superstitions of the vulgar. Of course, the fictitious Sybill falls head-over-heels for him and tragically finally loses out to his first love, the real-life Lady Katherine Neville. Bulwer quotes Philip de Comines in his assessment of Hastings: he was one of the most remarkable men of the age...like Lord Montagu, he united in happy combination the talents of a soldier and a courtier. The love affair between Hastings and Sybill, a recurrent theme throughout the three volumes, is deftly done. The author is sympathetic to Hastings' behaviour whilst not minimising the dolorous, and ultimately, tragic effect on Sybill.
Interestingly, this is yet another novel which refers to the Lollards and suggests that they tended to favour the Yorkist, due to the long history of antagonism with the Lancastrians. It was impossible that these men should not have felt the deepest resentment at the fierce and steadfast persecution they endured under the House of Lancaster...
There are footnotes galore, all impressing on the reader that Bulwer has studied his sources. David Hume, Hallam, George Buck, Rapin, Habington, Carte, Agnes Stricklad, Sharon Turner and John Lingard; as well as the contemporary writings such as the Parliamentary Rolls, the Paston Letters, the Croyland Chronicle, Polydore Vergil, Holinsed, Hall and Fabyan are all catalogued.
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