by the side of Clarence, whose weakness of disposition made
him take the tone of the society in which he was thrown, and who, while
really loving Warwick, often smiled at the jests against him,--not,
indeed, if uttered by the queen or her family, of whom he ill concealed
his jealousy and hatred.

The whole court was animated and pregnant with a spirit of intrigue,
which the artful cunning of the queen, the astute policy of Jacquetta,
and the animosity of the different factions had fomented to a degree
quite unknown under former reigns. It was a place in which the wit of
young men grew old rapidly; amidst stratagem, and plot, and ambitious
design, and stealthy overreaching, the boyhood of Richard III. passed
to its relentless manhood: such is the inevitable fruit of that era in
civilization when a martial aristocracy first begins to merge into a
voluptuous court.

Through this moving and shifting web of ambition and intrigue the royal
Edward moved with a careless grace: simple himself, because his object
was won, and pleasure had supplanted ambition. His indolent, joyous
temper served to deaden his powerful intellect; or, rather, his
intellect was now lost in the sensual stream through which it flowed.
Ever in pursuit of some new face, his schemes and counterschemes
were limited to cheat a husband or deceive a wife; and dexterous and
successful no doubt they were. But a vice always more destructive
than the love of women began also to reign over him,--namely, the
intemperance of the table. The fastidious and graceful epicurism of the
early Normans, inclined to dainties but abhorring excess, and regarding
with astonished disdain the heavy meals and deep draughts of the Saxon,
had long ceased to characterize the offspring of that noblest of
all noble races. Warwick, whose stately manliness was disgusted with
whatever savoured of effeminacy or debauch, used to declare that he
would rather fight fifty battles for Edward IV. than once sup with him!
Feasts were prolonged for hours, and the banquets of this king of the
Middle Ages almost resembled those of the later Roman emperors. The Lord
Montagu did not share the abstemiousness of his brother of Warwick. He
was, next to Hastings, the king's chosen and most favourite companion.
He ate almost as much as the king, and drank very little less. Of few
courtiers could the same be said! Over the lavish profligacy and excess
of the court, however, a veil dazzling to the young and h