Richard's change of virtual into actual sovereignty, in other words, the Lord Protector's usurpation of the crown, was not done by violence: in his first royal procession he was unattended by troops; a fickle, intriguing, ambitious, and warlike nobility approved the change; Buckingham, Catesby, and others, urged it. No doubt he himself saw that the crown was not a fit plaything for a twelve years' old boy, in such a time of frequent treason, ferocious crime, and general recklessness. There is no question but what, as Richard had more head than any man in England, he was best fitted to be at its head. The great mystery requiring to be explained is, not that 'the Lancastrian partialities of Shakspeare have,' as Walter Scott said, 'turned history upside down,' and since the battle of Bosworth, no party have had any interest in vindicating an utterly ruined cause, but how such troops of nobles revolted against a monarch alike brave and resolute, wise in council and energetic in act, generous to reward, but fearful to punish. The only solution I am ready to admit is, the imputed assassination of his young nephews; not only an unnatural crime, but sacrilege to that divinity which was believed to hedge a king. The cotemporary ballad of the 'Babes in the Wood,' was circulated by Buckingham to inflame the English heart against one to whom he had thrown down the gauntlet for a deadly wrestle. Except that the youngest babe is a girl, and that the uncle perishes in prison, the tragedy and the ballad wonderfully keep pace together. In one, the prince's youth is put under charge of an uncle 'whom wealth and riches did surround;' in the other, 'the uncle is a man of high estate.' The play soothes the deserted mother with, 'Sister, have comfort;' the ballad with, 'Sweet sister, do not fear.' The drama says that: 'Dighton and Forrest, though they were fleshed villains, Wept like two children, in their death's sad story.' And the poem: 'He bargained with two ruffians strong, Who were of furious mood.' But 'That the pretty speech they had, Made murderous hearts relent, And they that took to do the deed. Full sore did now repent.' There is a like agreement in their deaths: 'Thus, thus, quoth Dighton, girdling one another Within their alabaster, innocent arms.' And the ballad: 'In one another's arms they died.' Finally, the greatest of English tragedies represents Richard's remorse as: 'My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain.' While the most pathetic of English ballads gives it: 'And now the heavy wrath of God Upon their uncle fell; Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house. His conscience felt a hell.'