Last of the Barons | Page 7

For Anne's
reluctance to marry Richard, and the disguise she assumed, see Miss
Strickland's "Life of Anne of Warwick." For the honour of Anne, rather
than of Richard, to whose memory one crime more or less matters but
little, it may here be observed that so far from there being any ground
to suppose that Gloucester was an accomplice in the assassination of
the young prince Edward of Lancaster, there is some ground to believe
that that prince was not assassinated at all, but died (as we would fain
hope the grandson of Henry V. did die) fighting manfully in the field.--
"Harleian Manuscripts;" Stowe, "Chronicle of Tewksbury;" Sharon
Turner, vol. iii. p. 335.] It is also noticeable, that when, not as
Shakspeare represents, but after long solicitation, and apparently by
positive coercion, Anne formed her second marriage, she seems to have
been kept carefully by Richard from his gay brother's court, and rarely,
if ever, to have appeared in London till Edward was no more.
That considerable obscurity should always rest upon the facts
connected with Edward's meditated crime,--that they should never be
published amongst the grievances of the haughty rebel is natural from
the very dignity of the parties, and the character of the offence; that in
such obscurity sober History should not venture too far on the
hypothesis suggested by the chronicler, is right and laudable. But
probably it will be conceded by all, that here Fiction finds its lawful
province, and that it may reasonably help, by no improbable nor
groundless conjecture, to render connected and clear the most broken
and the darkest fragments of our annals.

I have judged it better partially to forestall the interest of the reader in
my narrative, by stating thus openly what he may expect, than to
encounter the far less favourable impression (if he had been hitherto a
believer in the old romance of Bona of Savoy), [I say the old romance
of Bona of Savoy, so far as Edward's rejection of her hand for that of
Elizabeth Gray is stated to have made the cause of his quarrel with
Warwick. But I do not deny the possibility that such a marriage had
been contemplated and advised by Warwick, though he neither sought
to negotiate it, nor was wronged by Edward's preference of his fair
subject.] that the author was taking an unwarrantable liberty with the
real facts, when, in truth, it is upon the real facts, as far as they can be
ascertained, that the author has built his tale, and his boldest inventions
are but deductions from the amplest evidence he could collect. Nay, he
even ventures to believe, that whoever hereafter shall write the history
of Edward IV. will not disdain to avail himself of some suggestions
scattered throughout these volumes, and tending to throw new light
upon the events of that intricate but important period.
It is probable that this work will prove more popular in its nature than
my last fiction of "Zanoni," which could only be relished by those
interested in the examinations of the various problems in human life
which it attempts to solve. But both fictions, however different and
distinct their treatment, are constructed on those principles of art to
which, in all my later works, however imperfect my success, I have
sought at least steadily to adhere.
To my mind, a writer should sit down to compose a fiction as a painter
prepares to compose a picture. His first care should be the conception
of a whole as lofty as his intellect can grasp, as harmonious and
complete as his art can accomplish; his second care, the character of the
interest which the details are intended to sustain.
It is when we compare works of imagination in writing with works of
imagination on the canvas, that we can best form a critical idea of the
different schools which exist in each; for common both to the author
and the painter are those styles which we call the Familiar, the
Picturesque, and the Intellectual. By recurring to this comparison we
can, without much difficulty, classify works of Fiction in their proper
order, and estimate the rank they should severally hold. The Intellectual
will probably never be the most widely popular for the moment. He

who prefers to study in this school must be prepared for much
depreciation, for its greatest excellences, even if he achieve them, are
not the most obvious to the many. In discussing, for instance, a modern
work, we hear it praised, perhaps, for some striking passage, some
prominent character; but when do we ever hear any comment on its
harmony of construction, on its fulness of design, on its ideal
character,--on its essentials, in short, as a work of art? What we hear
most valued in the picture, we