I i ■ ' ' ' > :• ■ ■ vva t .V , I»V‘' 'it” » > ' ■ ( i'!' ’ ' >' V ' .V'l.iW I'l " ' '» '/’■■■'■ ! ■.; ‘ • X-- • ^ ' -• t- n ;*’t » J '■V-- !• • .■ K P. LORD LYTTLETON’S HISTORY OP ENGLAND. TWO VOLS.*..... PRICE Qs. IN BOARDS. /WWWWW'V^'VWW w \ V OL. 1. AN t HISTORY OF E N G L A N D, IN A SEJtlES OF LETTERS FROM A NOBLEMAN TO HIS SON. * VOL. I. Ntic minimum meruere decus, vestigia Grmca ^ O Ami deserere, 4" celehrare domestica facta Hor, ILottDon : 4 PRINTED FOR T. MITCHELL, AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS. 1819. BOSTON COIXEGH; LIBB'AOT CHEBTHUT HILL, MASS. 3o , 0.1 ! V. ( BOSTSN eOtMVMHHSff OIESIWI IWtt BriscoCj Pxiater, Angel Street, London. \l . 3 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. LETTER L Dear Charles, rr^ X HE accounts I receive from your tutor at Oxtord, of your conduct auvd capacity, give me equal pleasure, both as a father and as a man. I own myself happy in thinking that society will one day reap the advantage of your improved abilities; but 1 confess myself vain, when I reflect on the care I have taken, and the honor I shall perhaps obtain from assisting their cultivation. Y es, my Charles, self-interest thus mixes with almost every virtue ; my pater- nal vanity is, perhaps, greater than my regards for society in the present instance ; but you should consider that the bad pride themselves in their folly, but good minds alone are vain of their virtues ' ‘ I need scarcely repeat what I have so often ob- served, that your assiduity lor a few years, in the VoL. I. ■ B , , j early AN HlSTORlr OF ENCLAND. early period of life, will give ease and happiness to ihe succeeding: a life spent in regularity and study, in college, Mnll not only furnish the mind with proper ntat rials, but fit it, by habit, for future iclicity. Mathematics will teach you to think witli closeness and precision, and the an- cient poets will enlarge your imagination; from these two hcl[>F, and not from the subtleties of logic, or metaphysical speculations, the mind is at once strengthened and improved. Logic or metaphysics may give the theory of reasoning ; but it is poetry and mathematics, though seem- ingly opposite, that practically improve and fit us lor every rational inquiry. These were the studies T recommended as principally conducive to your improvement, and youi letters. alone are sufficient instances of your con^plying with my advice. I confess my fears in giving any future instructions on such topics ' to one who seems better conversant with them than his instructor : I iherelore must leave a sub- ject, where my superiority at least may be con- tested. But, after all, my child, these studies are at best but ornaments of the mind, designed rather to polish or to fit it for higher improvements, than as materials to be employed in guiding our conduct as individuals or members of society. There is a field that, in some measure, still lies untrodden before you, and from that alone, true v/isdom and real improvement can be expected; I mean history. From history, in a great mea- sure every advantage that improves the gentle- man, or confirms the patriot, can be hoped for; it is that which must qualify you for becoming a proper member of the community, for filling thaB station, hr which you may hereafter be placed VN A SliRIES of LETTERS^ 'g |ilaced, with honour, and for givings a^; well as deriving new lustre to that illustrious assenbi/, th which, upon my decease, you have a right to be called. Yet, still, nothing can be more useless than history, in the manner in which it is generally studied, where the memory is loaded wdth little more than dates, names, and events. Simply to repeat the transaction is by some thought suf- ficient, for every purpose; and a youth, having been once applauded for his readiness in this way, fancies himself a perfect historian. But the true use of history does not consist in being able to settle a genealogy, in quoting the events of an obscure veign, or the true epoch of a contested birth; this. knowledge of facts hardly deserves the name of science ; true wisdom, -consists in tracing effects to their causes; To understand history is to understand man, who is the subject. To study history is to wei/,h the motives, the opinions, the passions of mankind, in order to avoid a similitude of errors in ourselves, or profit by the wisdom of their example. To study history in this mariner may be begun at any age. Children can never be too soon, treated as men. Those masters, who allecige the incapacity of tender youth, only tacitly re- proach their owm; those who are incapable of teaching youtrg minds to reason, pietend that it is impossible. The truth is, they are fonder of making their pupils talk well than think well j and much the greater number are better quaiu fied to give praise to a ready memory than a sound judgment. The generality of mank nd consider a muliitude of lacts as the real food of the mind, not as subjects proper to afford it ex- ercise. From hence it proceeds, that history, B 2 , instead AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 4 iustead of teachu'jg us to know ourselves, often only ser' es to raise our vanity, by tne applause ot the ynurant, or w'hat is more dangerous, by the sel: 'eiusion ol untried vanity. Assui ■ng ignorance is, ol all dispositions, the most ridiculous: for, in the same proportion as the real man ol wisdom is preterable to the un- lettered rustic, so much is the rustic superiar to him, who, wirhour learning, imagines himself learned. It were better that such a man had never read, for tiien he might have been con- scious of his weakness ; but the half-learned man, rebying upon his strength, seldom per- ceives his wants till he finds his deception past a cure. Yund'Work of all your researches. Without a previous acquaintance with these, you enter upon other writers improperly pre- pared ; until these, have placed you in a proper train of ra>)ra]izing the incidents, other histo- rians may, perhaps, injure, but will not improve you. Let nie, therefore, at present, my dear Charles, intreat you to bestow' tlte proper care upon those treasures of antiquity ; and by your letters, every post, communicate to your father and your friend, the result of your reflections upon them. J am at a loss, whether I shall find more satisfaction in hearing your remarks, or communicating my own ? ■ How^ever, in which soever of them I shall be employed, it will make my highest amusement. Amusement is all that I can now expect in life, for amibition has long forsaken mej and, perhaps, m.y child, after all, what IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 7 what your noble anCvSt-'ir has observed is most true ; M^he^ all is done^ hu?nan life is, at fhe great- est and the best, hut like a fr award child, that ‘nust he played with an I humoured a little to keep it quiet till it falls asleep, and then the ca re is o ver . L E T T E R II. I Entirely acquiesce in your sentiments, that” universal history is a subiect too extensive for human comprehension, and that he who would really reap the advantages of history must be contented to bound his view’s. Satisfied with being superficially acquainted wdth the transac- tions ol m.any countries, the learner should place his principal attention only on a few’. . Your remarks on the Greek and Roman re- publics far surpass my expectations ; you have justly characterised them as the finest instances of political S’>ciety that could be founded on the basis of a false religion. Where religion is im- perfect, political speiety, and all laws enacted for its improvement, must he imperfect also. Religion is but philosophy refined ; and no man could ever boast an excel’ence in politics, w’hose mind had not been pi -viouslympeueti and enlarg- ed by the institutions of theol.rgy, an error in religion, ever producing deie^rs in legislation. Forgive me, dear Charles, d 1 otic, more con- gratulate myseit upon the pleasure i expect from your future eminence. You are now tinctured w'ith universal history, and are thoroughly con- versant with that of Greece and Rome; but there is another department of history still re- maining, and that much more important than any I have yet mentioned; I mean the Hi sto- ry OF England. The history of tiiis country 6 AN HISTORY Ot ENGLAND^ the proper study of an Englishman ; however, it peculiarly concerns those who inay, like you, one day have such an important character to sup- port in its administration, and whose owm name, perhaps, may find a place in the historic page. All who are enamoured of the liberty and the happiness which they peculiarly enjoy in this happy ffgion, must surely be desirous, of know- ing •! e .nethods by which such advantages were acquirea ; the progressive steps from barbarity to social refinement, from society to the highest pitch ol well constituted freedom. All Europe standsjn astonishment at the wisdom of our constitution, and it would argue the highest de- gree ol in.'^ensibility in a native of this country, and one too who from his birth enjoys peculiar privileges, to be ignorant of what others so much admire. i shall not insist upon a principal use to which some apply the English history, I mean that of making it the topic of common conversation ; yet, even from such a motive, though in itself trifling, no well-bred man can plead ignorance. Its greatest advantage, however, is that a know- ledge of the past enables the attentive mind to understand the present : our law'S and customs, our liberties and abuse of liberty, can scarcely be understood without tracing them to their source, and history is the only channel by w'hich we can arrive at what we so eagerly pursue. But, were I to compare thehistoryof our own country, in point of amusement, with that of other's, I know of none, either ancient or mo- dern, that can vie with it in this respect. In other histories, remote and extensive connection interrupt the reader’s interest, and destroy the simplicity of the plan. The history of Greece IN’ A SERIES OF LETTERS. 9 Greece may be easily divided into feven dif- ferent hiftories, and into fo many it has actu- ally been divided : the history of Rome, from the time it begins to be authentic, is little else than an account of the then known world : but, in England, feparated, by its situation, from the continent, the reader may consider the whole narrative, with all its vicissitudes, in one point of view ; it unites the philofopher’s* definition of beauty, by variously uniform. The simplicity in an history of our own coun- try is therefore excellent ; but I can direct to few who have inaproved the materials it affords with a proper degree of assiduity or skill. The historians who have treated of this subject, have in general written for a party; many, with an. open avowal of their abuse. Some, who have had talenis for thi.' undertaking, w’ere unable to afford themselves sufficient leisure to polish their M'ork into a degree of requisite per/ection ; while other's, wh6 have laboured with fufficient assi- duity, have been woefully deficient in point of fagacity, or proper skill in the choice of thofe facts they thought proper to relate. What- ever has been known, and not what was worth knowing, has been faithfully transcribed ; so that the pr'e.ser-t accounts of the country re- semble the ancient face of the soil : here an un- cultivated fore.-^t ; there a desolate wild ; and, in a very few places, a spot of earth adorned by art, and smiling wdfh all the luxuriance of nature. To make history, like the soil, truly useful, the obstacles to improvement must be tom away, new assistances mus't be acquired * Hutcheson. B3 from lO AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND^, from art ; nor can the work be deemed pro- perly-finished, till the whole pats on sirnplicity, uniformity and elegance. As the case is at pre- sent, we must read a library, to-acqaire a know- ledge of English history, and, after all, be coniented to forget more than vve can remember. The history of England, may be divided, properly enough, into three periods i very dif- ierent, indeed, with regai'd to their duration, but almost of equal importance. The first is, from the commencement of our knowledge of the country to its conquest by the Normans : the second, from the time of William the Con- queror to the alteration of the constitution by the beheading King Charles L ; the last con- tains t he remaining period of our history.. It w ill at once appear, that luch a division is ex- tremely unequal ; the first department may be said to extend to a period of more than a thou- sand years; the second contains no lefs than feven hundred, while the remaining does no take up tw'O. Chronologists, indeed, would di- wide it in a very different manner : however, I am rather inclined to this division, more by the peculiar use which may be made of each pe- riod, than the mere regularity of time. Ta consider ihe first part wdth accuracy, belongs properly to the philosopher;, the second is the business of him w ho would understand our con- stitution, and is the proper study of a legislator; and the last, of such as would be acquainted with the connexions and relations in which we stand widt regard to our neighbours of the continent, and our foreign, our domestic trade ; that is, in other werds, to the merchant and: politician. There- IN A SERIES OF, .LETTERS. 1 1 There is fcarce any other passion, buttharo curio-^ity, excited by a knowledge of the early part of our history. We may go through the accounts of that distant rera with the same im- partiality with which we consider the original inhabitants of any country as the customs of our Britisii ancestors have scarce any connec- tion with our own : but then, to some minds, it must be a pleasing disquisition to observe the human animal, by degrees divesting himself of his native ferocity, and acquiring, the arts of happiness and peace : to trace the steps, by wdiich he leaves his precarious ineaB acquired by the chace,^ for a more certain, but a more laborious repast, acquired Erst by pasturage,; therv by cultivation. After, the conquest, (he rude outlines of our present constitution began to be formed. Be- fore the Norman invasion, there might be some customs resembling those at present in practice but the only reason for their continuance was, because they had before been practised in com- mon among the invaders. At this period, there- fore, an Englishman becomes interested in the narrative ; he perceives the rise and the reasons of several laws, which now serve to restrain his conduct, or preserve his property. The righis of our monarchs, the claims of foreign poten- tates, the ineffectual struggles for liberty, and the gradual encroachments of ambition, these highly interest him, as he in some measure owes to these transactions the happiness he enjoys. But the last period is^wdiat is chiefly incumr bent upon almost every man to be particularly conversant in. Every person residing here, has a share in the liberties of this kingdom ; as the generality of the people are ultimately invested with, 12 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, with the legislation. It is therefore every man’s duty to know that constitution, which, by his birth-right, he is called to govern : a Ireeholder, in a free kingdom, should certainly be instructed in the original of that agreement by w^hich he holds so precious a tenure. These motives equally influence almost every rank of people ; but how much more forcibly should they operate upon you, wToseTonors, whose trusts and possessions, are likely to be so considerable! Others may have their liberties to support ; you must sustain your liberty, your property, and the dignity of your station. I shall therefore without farther preface, in some future correspondence, communicate the result of my enquiries on this subject ; a subject which, I own, has employed all the leisure I had to spare from, I will not say more important, but more necessary duties. I shall endeavour, at once' to supply the facts, and the necessary consequences that may be deduced from them. I shall separate all that can contribute nothing either to amuse- ment or use, and leave such dull compilers, or systematic waiters of history, whose only boast is, to lean.it: nothing out. A more thorough know- ledge of the subject cannot be communicated without pain, nor ac«|uired without study:. per- haps too minute a skill in this, or any one sub- ject, might disqualify the mind for other branches of science, equally demanding our care. Of whatever use it may be, I hope you wall consider it as an instance of my regard though it should fail to add to your opinion of my sagacity* LETTER INASERIESOF LETTERS. 13 LETTER III. There seems to be a natural tendency in every nation to rqn its antiquity as far back as possible, and when once they have arrived at the regions of fiction, no bounds are set to the won- ders of every narration. Were we to take our character of the ancient inhabitants of this island from the legends, monuments, or traditions, which have been left by those inhabitants them- selves, we might be apt to imagine, that arts, even in that early period, were cultivated, and sciences known, to some degree of perfection. The Druids, if we believe some fragments of their owm, understood astronomy and medicine, and gave lessons in morality and metaphysics. But w’hat credit can be given to the accounts of a barbarous people, told by themselves ? The knowledge and learning, indeed, of their priests might be great, if compared with the almost brutal simplicity and ignorance of the rest of the people ; but it could not deserve the name of science, if put in competition wnth what was known and practised by their polite cotemporaiies of Greece and Rome. From the accounts of those sensible waiters, and not from the' fictitious absurdities of the Druids themselves, we are to estimate this an- tient people. All that we find related by cre- dible witnesses and sufficient authority, before the Romans entered this island, is, that the country was filled with incredible numoers of people and their fields stored wdth great plenty of animals, savage and domestic. Their houses were meanly built and scattered, as if accidentally, over the country, wdthout observing distance, or order. The only mo^ tivC3 14 AN history of ENGLAND, lives of their choice were the peculiar fertilitjr of some happy spot, or the convenience of wood and water. They lived upon milk and. flesh procured by the chace ; for corn v/as scarcely known among them. What cloaths they wore were skins of beasts but a great part of their bodies was left exposed to the in- juries, of the weather, all that' was naked being painted with blue. This custom of painting was universal among them, either in order to strike terror into their enemies, or to defend the pores of the naked skin from, the injuries of the weather. Their towns, if a coHection of huts could deserve that name, were mostly built upon the coasts, in places where strangers generally re- sorted for the sake of commerce. The commo dities, exported were chiefly hides and tin ; and probably, other spontaneous productions of the soil, which required no art in the preparation. Their government, like that of the ancient Gauls, consisted of several petty principalities, which seem to be the original governments of mankind, and deduced from the natural right of paternal dominion : but whether these little principalities, descended by succession, or whe- ther the rulers were elected, by the consent of the people is, not recorded. Upon great or uncommon dangers, indeed, the chief com- mander of all their forces was chosen by com- m.on consent in a general assembly, as Caesar relates of Chassibelaunus, upon his invasion. The same was done upon their revolts against the Roman colonies, under Caractacns and - their Queen Boadicea : for among them, wo- men, were admitted to their principalities, and general; IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. J5 general commands, by the right of succession, merit or nobility. Such were the customs of the ancient Britons, and the same may serve lor a description of every other barbarous nation of which we have any kn()wledge. Savage man is an animal in alniost * every country the same; and all the difference between nations, result from customs intro- duced by luxury, or cultivated by refinement. ^ What the inhabitant of Britain was at that time, the inhabitant of South America, or Cafraria, may ()e at this day. But there was one custom among the ancient inhabitants of this island, which seems peculiar to themselves, and is not to be lound in the accounts of any other ancient or modern nation. The custom I mean, was a community of wives among certain numbers, and by common consent. Every man married, indeed, but one woman, who was always after, and alone, esteemed his wife; but it was usual few five or six, ten, twelve, or more, either bro- thers or friends, as they could agree, to have all their wives in common. But this, though calcu- lated ior their mutual happiness, in fact proved their greaiest disturbance ; and we have some instances, m which thiscommuity of wives pro- duced dissensions, jealousies, and death. E^ery woman’s children, however, were the property of him who married her; but all claimed a share in the care and defence of the whole society, since no man knew which was his own. To estimate the wisdom of the people, we must examine the manners of their teachers,. If the laity w^ere so very barbarous, the Druids, their instructors, must have but few pretences to superior refinement ! yet, I know not how^, we, have different and almost contradictory ac- Gouais i6 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, counts of this extraordinary fraternity. They have been represented, by some, as persons of learning, derived to tliein by long tradition. Their skill consisted in the observation of the heavens, and upon the influence of its appearance they gave their countrymen omens of failure or success. They taught a morality, which princi- pally consisted in justice and fortitude. Their lives were simple and innocent ; in woods, ca- verns, and hollow trees ; their food acorns or berries, and their drink water. They were re- spected and admired, not only for knowing more than other men, but for despising what all others valued and pursued: by their virtue and tempe- rance, they reproved aud corrected those vices in others, from which they were themselves happily free; and made use of no other arms, than the reverence due to integrity, to enforce obedience to their owm cojnmands. From such a conduct as this they derive;* so much'authority, that they were not only priests, but judges also, throughout the nation. Nolawoswere instituted wnthout their approbation ; no person punished with bonds or death, but bv their condemnation. But, oh the other hand, we learn, that all their knowledge was imposture, and their sim- plicity only a savage passion for solitude ; their language barbarous, and their manners still more rude ; th; se w*ere such as called aloud for some more enlightened instructors, to conquer and to direct them. The Druids seemed lormed for the people whotn they governed, sacrificed human victims, which they burned in large wicker idols, which were made so capacious, as to contain a mukicude of persons, who were, in this manner, at once consumed in the flames. The IN A SERAIS OF LETTER?. I7 The female Druids plunged their knives in the breasts of the priloners taken in war, and pro- phesied from the manner in which the blood happened to stream from the wound- Their altars consisted of four broad stones, three of which were set edgeways, and the fourth hori- zontally on the top, many of which are still to be seen. . In accounts so seemingly contradictory, are entirely to give assent to neither. That they pretended to astrology is certain : this, and not their piety, probably gave them such influence among their countrymen. To judge of what the Britons then were, as I have already hinted, w^e must look to what savage nations are at pre- sent ; we perceive what authority a pretence to astrology, in barbarous countries, confers ; the astrologer being generally considered, in almost all the eastern kingdoms, as the second, if not the first man of the state. That the Druids de- ceived the people with a false religion cannot be denied ; but, yet I can never’ think that they were impostors : they first deceived themselves into a belief and veneration of what they taught, and then made use of every motive to persuade the people. The ignorant and erro- neous, in the commerce of this life, are many ; the villains and impostors are comparatively speaking, but few. As for human sacrifices, few probably were destroyed upon this horrid occasion, but prisoners taken in war ; and such have ever been sacrificed, by savage nations, ra- ther from a principle of revenge than religion. It is not peculiar to the religion of the Druids alone, but was primarily the barbarous prac- tice of those very nations who then exclaimed against it most loudly. In AN HISTORY OF ENGLAN®. In short, the religion of the Druids was no more than that of every barbarous nation wjth Mhose ceremonies we have any acquaintance. This was the religion which was not only prac- tised in Britain, but which prevailed, originally, over the greatest part of the world. The ori- ginal inhabitants of Europe, as a very learned antiquary * has finely proved, were the same^ all speaking one language,, obeying the same dei- ties, and governed by similar laws. Successive invasions from different parts of Asia brought new changes ; and as the colonies went w’est- ward, tile Greek, the Roman, and Teutonic languages and customs were super-induced over the antient Celtic. All the countries, most ac-» cessible to strangers, or most subject to inva- sions, were first changed ; those which lay sur- rounded by mountains, or w'ere in some mea- sure retired by their situation, such as Wales, Cornwall, the highlands of Scotland, Ireland, Biscay, and Crim Tartary, ail preserved their primitive manners. It is even found that these countries still adhere to many of the ancient Druidical customs, as far as the alteration of religion will admit. We have, as yet, an op- portunity of viewing many of their ancient, and, in some ineasuic, venerable superstitions, still in Ireland : these are, however, wearing out by degrees, and another century will en- tirely efface every vestige of barbarous anti- quity. I am. Dear Charles, &c. * Perron > LETTER IN' A SERIES OF LETTERS. 19 LETTER IV. Xt is, in some measure, happy for a barbarous people to be conquered by a country more po- lite than themselves. Whatever evils the ambi- tion of heroes generally produces, it is attended with one advantage, that of disseminating arts, and making humanity ntore extensive. The Britons, savage and rude as they were, in some measure, called for more polite instructors; and the Romans, of ail the conquerors history can produce, were at once the most polite, the most generous and humane. A country, divided like Britain into a variety of small principaltties, must necessarily have been separated in-to various, and orten opposite interests. Its princes must have been frequently at war, merely for the sake of plunder, to keep their troops in exercise, or to gratify vanity and ambition. We may easily, therefore, form an idea of the miseries of a rude people, wTiO had nothing but fear to keep them from war with each other, and who could build no longer on a lasting peace, than wdiile they avoided giving an opportunity of plunder to their enemies. To complete the picture of the calamities of tliis people, all the trading and maritime towns, next the continent, were in possession of foreign invaders, long before the Roaaans entered the island. These were a people wdio had been re- ceived from motives of hospitality, and v/ho, under riie character of exiles in distress, having got footing and shelter among the natives, af- terwards made war upon them as enemies. "I’liis, adcleii to their frequent tumults and mas- sacres among each other, rendered them not 20 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, only internally unhappy, but an easy prey tO' each invader. Besides, they were ill supplied with arms,, and those they had were only such as were no longer in use among the refined nas tions of the continent. They fought in 'chariot, armed with scythes, applied to the wheels- These were terrible without execution, and made rather to astonish the rude anxl ignorant, than to break such ranks as were not to be daunt- ed by the mere appearance of danger. Their defensive armour only consisted of a wicker shield ; and they approached the enemy shout- ing, clashing their arms, and sounding their trumpets, as if they designed rather to terrify than destroy. Their chariots generally attacked the enemy's cavalry, and from these they would frequently leap, and fight on foot, till,, being fatigued or overpowered, they would re- sume their seats, and make the best retreat pos- sible. Unpolished nations, though they have more fierceness in the onset, never set with that cool, persevering resolution, which ensures- victory. This can be acquired only where dis- cipline and subordination have long prevailed and a nation, however brave, levied in haste, will probably never make a figure against veteran troops, hardened by contention, or elated by long success. This was the disposition of the inhabitants ; but the face of the country ren- dered them still more open, without towns, fortresses, or any place of retreat to secure it from an enemy, except what the forests might happen to afford. In a word, the inhabitants were destitute of all means of defence, but what their native courage was able to supply, or a love of liberty might inspire. Such IN A SERIES O? LETTERS. 21 Such were rhe people and customs of Britainj when ihe Romans first invaded their ^ ^ . , j j • fir Anno Ante island under the eiisigns or Julius ^ Caesar, the greatest commander that * ever led an armj^. When I consider this great man, who had already been the conqueror of Gaul ; when I reflect on his courage, his coiv duct, and perseverance ; when I take into my view the troops he headed, inured to discipline, and fighting in a manner with which barbarous nations were' entirely unacquainted j v/hen I consider these circumstances, and compare them with those ot the Britons in the same period, I feel a more than usual share of surprize at the bravery and conduct wuth which these poor bar- barians opposed him. It was an established maxim, in the politics of Rome, to deem all auxiliaries as principals, and to allow none to assist the enemies of the state with impunity. This was the pretence Caesar laid hold of to justify his invasion of England, which was not only looked upon as an ally, but likewise as an asylum to the Gaul- ish nations, which were at that time enemies of Rome. This might probably, be the ground of his invasion, but the pleasure of conquest was his real motive. To extend the Roman empire, though already too extensive to be governed, was at that time ^thought the most glorious at- chievement ol humanity. The r st of Europe was in some measure subdued, and nothin j left but countries desolate with toiests and marshes, and neither tempting from their appearance, nor alfording any hopes of plunder Heroism was at that time, the boast o! ambition ; nor have men, till very lately, been taught to consider conquerors with an eye of contempt or detesta- tion • V 2 % AN HISTORY 6F ENGLAND. tion. Caesni' was res '>jved on being a hero, and was more lond of triumph than ot justice. His forces were composed of Germans, Ba- tavi;'ns, and Gauis, and veteran Roman le- gions. He set sail from Gaul about midnight, and arrived on the British coast the next aiter-- noon. The Britons, with their naked troops, made a brave opposition against this veteran array t the conflicrs between them were fierce and many, the losses were mutual, and the suc- cess various. Cassibelaunus was chosen general in chief of the British forces; hut even a fo- reign invader was not sufficient to keep the petty princes, who commanded the barbarous armV:, united. DissetiSion soon entered among them, and some, jealous of the sincerity of their general, oi envying his greatness, fled over to Cassar, submitted to the Romans, and claim- ed their protection. Others foilowed this base example, tiU Cassibelaunus, weakened by so many desertions, resolved upon making what terms he was able, while he had yet an oppor- tunity. He sends to Caesar, acknowledges the Roman power, agrees upon a certain tribute, and delivers hostages. Thus we see Britain, from the beginning, remarkable for internal dissension, and dissension ever strengthens or invites the invador. The Romans w'ere pleased with the name of a new conquest, and glad of ending an adven- ture with honour, which at first promised oily difficulties and danger. But the extended forest, and the trackless wild, was not a quart y for men intent on spoil, and raised to greater ex- pecr.^ ions. Having, therefore, rather disco- vered than subdued the southern parts of the island, the Romans returned into Gaul with their llsr A SERIES T)E ^LETTERS. 23 tnelr whf le forces, and once more left the Bri- tons to their customs, religion, and laws By two expeditions which ci&sar made into this island, he rather encreased the glory than the dominions of Rome, and gave Britain the ho- nour of being the last triumph of lirat mighty republic, w hich had before reciuced the most powerlul kingdoms oi the hacarebie globe. Whatever the tribute was, which they had ■contracted annually to pay, we have n any rea- sons, from history,- to bel-eve they paid it but very negligently. I mention this, as an in- stance of the little faith which can be expected from an extorted submission, while there is no longer a pow-er to enforce obedience. Upon, the accession of Augustus, that emperoi had formed a design of visiting Britain, but was diverted frorn it by an unexpected revolt ol the Panno- nians. Some years after, he again resumed his design ; but, being met in his way by the Bri- tish ambassadors, promising the accustomed tri- bute, and making the usual submissions, he a second time desisted. The year following, find- ing them unfaithiul to their promise, he pre- pared a third rime, for the invasion of this island, but w^as prevented from putting his de- sign into execution, by their ambalfadors, wdio averted his fury by their adulations and humi- lity. The most savage countries understand' flattery almost as w^ell as the most polite, since to be sufficiently servile is, perhaps, the whole of the art, and the truest method of pleasing. Tiberius followed the maxims of Augustus, and wusely judging the Roman empire already too extensive, made no attempt upon this Bland. Some Roman foldiers being wrecked bn the Eng- lish coast, the inhabitants not only assisted them with 314 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, with the greatest humanity, but sent them in safety, back to their general. In consequence of such friendly dispositions, there was a constant intercourse between the two nations ; the prin- cipal English nobility resorted to Rome, and ^some received their education there. By these means the Britons began sensibly to improve. The first art, w'hich a savage people is generally taught by their politer neighbours, is that of war. Though not wholly addicted to the Roman manner of fighting, the Britobs, however, adopted several of their improvements, both in their arms and their arrangements in the field. Their ferocity to strangers was now also lessened, and they first began to coin money, the oldest British coin being that of Comius, who learned a part of the Roman po- liteness by a residence in Caesar’s camp. They still, however, continueq to live as herdsmen and hunters, and adhered to their usual super- stitions ; a manifest instance of the country being, as yet, but thinly inhabited. When we read, in Caesar, of the numbers of this people, and the vast armies they brought into the field, I am apt to doubt his veracity. Such armies couid scarcely be levied even now; and yet nothing is more certain, than that Britain is ten times more populous now than it was at that tmie. A nation of herdsmen and hunters can never be populous ; their sub'ist-( ence takes up a large tract oi country, while the husbaudmau converts every part of nature to hum.in use, and produces the greatest quantity of sut iJiC ice from ' circumscribed possession The Roman histodan has increased their num- bers, oniy to increase the iuscie oi his glory in subduing them. LETTER A SERIES OF LETTERS. 25 LETTER V. The second expedition into Britain was ma^c by Claudius, under the conduct of Piautius and pursued by^Ostorius, and other Roman com- manders, with the usual success. It is true there \Vere many Britons D. who preferred their hardy simplicity 50. to imported elegance, and, rather than offer their necks to the Roman yoke, pre- sented their .breasts to the sword. But, by de- grees their fierceness was subdued, or wholly de- stroyed ,* the southern coast, with all tire adja- cent inland country, was secured by the con- querors, who took possession by fortifying camps, building fortresses, and planting colonies. The rest of the country seemed to look on, patiently waiting till it became their turn to be expelled from their precarious habitations, or to receive their imperious masters. Prosperity, in general, breeds insolence ; the corruption of the przelors and officers, that were appointed to govern this harrassed people, once more roused them into lesentment. Ca- ractacus, general and king oi the Northern Britons, with inferior numbers, not only. made a brave defence, but often seemed to claim a doubtful victory. A drawn battle might be considered as a triumph, to a people only used to defeat. Pie continued nine years to hold out, and threatened la al dangeis to the Ro- man colonies. At length, however, in a deci- sive battle, the Britons were totally defeated, and Caractacus taken ori.soner. His exclama- .i. rion, when led in triumph through Rome, is too remarkable to be passed over in silence. Yol. I. C Obseiving 25 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND. Observing the opulence, the splendor, and lux- ury of that great city, Alas / cried he, how is it possible^ that people possessed of such magnificence at homCy could envy me an humhle cottage in Sriealn ! One expiring effort more was made by the Britons, to recover their liberty in the times of blero. Paulmus the general ol the A. D, Romans, going with rhe greatest 'jS. part of his forces to, subdue the isle of Anglesey, where the superstitions of the Druids were still practised with all their horrid circumstances ; the Britons presuming uporr his absence, made a general insurrection under Boadicea, queen of the Iceni, whom the Romans had treated wnth shocking indignities, condemning her for some slight offence to be whipped, and her daughters to be ravished by the soldiery j in revenge, therefore, at the head of a numerous army, she fell upon the Romans wherever they were found defenceless, took their castles, destroyed the chief seats of their power at London and Verulam, and, stitch w’as the slaughter, that seventy thousand fell by this re- volt. Paulinus, however, soon returned with his army, encountered the British forces headed by their queen, overthrew their powers, and pursued his victory with a slaughter of eighty thousand men, while the conquered queen poi- Vsoned herself in despair. Here ended the liber- ties of Britain. All that now remained were ^.^tisfied to exchange freedom for life. This was tfeeir Hst struggle : they now lost, not only the hope, but even the desire of vindicating the privileges of nature. From this time the Romans seemed more de- sirous of securing what they possessed, than of making IK A SERIES OF LETTERS. VJ making new conquests : they separated the Ro- man province, by a wall, from the Piets, their barbarous and restless neighbours ; and attempt- ed to humanize the fierceness of those who ac- knowledged their power. The Roman laws and customs, habits and arms, language and manners, baths and feasts, studies and learning, were in- troduced and became general. A conduct so prudent, which.had been first begun by Agticola, was pursued by his successors with so much suc- cess, that the Romans had little trouble after- wards in Britain, except in the defence of their northern frontier. Had Rome continued peaceably mistress of the world, the Britons, now almost perfectly civilized, might have found means of being happy. But, upon the divisions of the Roman empire, which was ruled by faction, and governed by an inso- lent soldiery, torn by sedition at home, and sub- ject to invasion abroad, the British legions w^ere, at several times, called over into Gaul, and with them, great numbers of the bravest of the British youth. Thus we see every method pursued, to W'eaken and render this once hardy people etfe- minate. The arts of luxury were introduced to soften their minds ; they were denied the use of arms, which might still uphold their native brave- ry; the flower of their youth were, at intervals, drained away, and those who remained were bred up in servitude and subjection. All who had a passion for liberty were long since destroyed ; and none were suffered to live, but such as had be- trayed their country in the beginning, or had been too cowardly to resist an unjust invasion. It is no wonder, therefore, that, as the Roman forces decreased in Britain, the Piets became more C % hold 28 - AN HISTORir OF ENGLAND. bold in their incursions. These, probably, wer« the descendants of such Britons as once bravely exchanged their country for freedom, and cross- ing the narrow sea, which the Romans could not _ guard, in little boats ' of wicker'covered with kather, they filled the country -wherever they came, with spoil, slaughter, and desolation: when repulsed by superior numbers, they usually retired loaded with spoils, and watched fdf^llre next opportunity of invasion, when the Rpm'aiis were drawn away into the remoter parts of the island. I hese enterprizes were often repeated, and as ‘Often repressed, till, in the reign of Valentinian^ the ounger, the empire of Rome began to trem- ’ bie for its capital. Myriads of barbarous na- tions, under the names of Goths and Vandals, invaded tf^e dominion of this mistress of th« world, with terror, perseverance, and rapidity. All the Roman legions were now?', therefore, drawn from Britain, and all the Britons, udio W'ere fit for military service, were brought away to relieve the emperor, who was pursued by the Golds into Piedmont, and there besieged in Atjaileia, a town he attempted to defend. The Romans now taking their last leave of this .province, left the Britons to their own go- vernment, and the choice of their owm kings. Tor the exercise of their arms, and for repair- ing rbeir ramparts, they gave tiiern the best in- structions such terrible times would permit. .TkHhing can be more affecting. than the pictuie of Britain at that period : though the Roman soldiery were drawn away, their faniili«>s and descendants were still spread over the whole country, and kit without a single person, of conduct f ivt 'iiii- JN A SERIES OF LETTERS. at conduct or courage, to defend them. The Bri- tons who remained began to, enter into fresh dis- sensions for superiority ; the enemy continued to pour in greater numbers tharr' ever, from their native forests and mountains: famine, with all its horrid attendants, of disease, robbery and se- dition, increased the miserable picture of the times ; their vices, as Gildas, a cotemporary writer, observes, kept pace with their calamities, the w'hole forming one detestable group of cow- ardice, cruelty, and distress. In this terrible situation it was that they im- plored the assistarxe of the Ro- ^ mans for relief. Their letter ^ upon this occasion still remains upon record:, 71? thrice ConsuL The groans of the Bn^ tom. iJjiven by our h:xrban>us enemy to the sea, and from thence hack upon the larFarians, we have only left us the choice of a grave, either' to be killed by the one, or to be drowned by the other. The Romans, however, wmre unable to help them- selves, much less capable of giving succour to so remote, and at present, such unserviceable allies. Yet, amidst such calamities, this people seemed to have still a peculiar happiness in store ; for they had, in general, embraced Christianhy. At what time the gospel was first preached in this island is not known, nor is it material to know: it is certain, that the original natives of England convened their Pagan conquerors sqme time af- ter to the lights of revelation; and though this people received laws from others, they adorned them with the religion of truth. Arts, aiivis, and elegance, must take their rjse, by slow degrees in every country, and cati never 30 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, never be, at once, introduced into it with sue- cess. All the pains bestowed in British education, only served to render this people more miserable ; dressed them up as victims tor every invader, and plunged them in all the misery of knowing happiness, without being able to practise refine- ment. The people of a country just reclaimed iVom barbarity, m some measure resemble the soil : the cultivation of a few years may be suf- ficient to clear away the obstacles to agriculture, but it requires several agts before the land ac- quires a proper degree of fertility. Thus, all the blood and treasure, which the Romans lost in the conquest of Britain, in the end, only served to depopulate the country, and prepare it for new invaders. The Roman politics succeed- ed in quelling British courage ; but the inhabi- tants, deprived of that, seemed destitute of every virtue. LETTER VI. I Remember but few Instances in history, where the conquerors did not excel the people conquered in every virtue. Savage barbarity, or eferainate luxury, have almost ever been im- puted to those countries w’hich were obliged to admit a foreign invader. There is a period be- tween natural rudeness and excessive refinement, which seems peculiarly adapted for conquest in war, and fits mankind for every virtuous and Great atchievement. In this state of half-re- finement the baxons were, at the time in which the Britons were thus distressed. This vir- tuous and warlike people had conquered where- ver they came, and to them the wretched re- mains IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 31 mains of the forlorn Britons had recourse for protection. As the conquest of this island is generally itn- puted to the Saxons as a piece of treachery,' and an invasion of those rights they were only called in to protectj I shall give the invitation they re- ce'uwfl from the Britbns, as it' has been left us by WittichinduK, a cotemporary historian of cre- dit ; and from hence it may be judged what little right the Britons had afterwards to complain: ” The poor and distressed Britons, atmord worn “ Out by hostile invasions, and harrassed by con- tinual incursions, are humble supplicants to “you, most valiant Saxons, for succour. Wq are possessed of a wide, extensive, and fertile “ country i this we yield wholly to be at your devotion and command. Beneath the wing of your valour we seek for safety, and shall wil- “ Itngly undergo whatever services you may hereafter be pleased to impose.” The Saxons were one branch of those Gothic nations, wdiich, swarming. from the northern hive, came to give laws and liberty to the rest of Europe. A branch of these under the name of Suevi, had, some time before Cucsnr’s invasion of Gaul, subdued and possessed an extensive em- pire in Germany. These, for their strength and valour, were grown formidable to all the Ger- man nations. The Suevi were reckoned, by their neighbours, a people for whom the very immortal Gods were not a match in war. They were after divided into several nations, and each became famous for subduing the country which ltd invaded. France, Germany, and England, were among the number of their conquests. The sz- AN HISTORY Of ENGLAND, The Saxons were far more polished than the ancient inhabitants of Britain, though their ac* quirerrenrs were much inferior to the boasted refinements of Rome. They dressed with some degree of elegance, a luxury which was un- known to the Britons : the \vomen used llneH garments, tdmmed and striped with purple j their hair was bound in wreaths, or fell in curls upon their shoulders j their arms were bare, and their bosoms uncovered ; fashions -which, in some measure, seem peculiar to the ladies of Britalo. to this day. Their government*? were entirely elective, and nearly republican ; their command- ers were chosen by merit, and dismissed from duty when their authority was no longer needful. The custom of trying by twelve men is of Saxoa original ; slavery and base submit sion was un- known among them, and they preferred death to a shameful existence. We are told, by Marc el- linus, that a body of them being taken prisoners by Sjmmacbus, the Roman, he designed to ex- hibit thcrri, in tlie amphitheatre, as gladiators, for the entertainment of the citizens of Rome. The morning, however, on which they -w’ere ex- pected to perform, they were every one found dead in his prison, each choosing rather a volun- tary death, than to be ignominious instruments -of brutal satisfaction to their conquerors. Tire chastity of this |)eople is equally remarkable, and to be without children, was to be without praise ; liUl in war they ciiietiy exctHed ; they had, in some measure, leai-ned discipline from the Ro- mans, wiiom Uity had oitcu conquered; it wtTs tiieir maxirii to esteem victory as a doubtful ad- vantage, bnt Courage as a certain good. A na- tion, however, endiely addicted to war, mufl coase- IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 3.1 quently be addicted to cruelty ; and those ter- rors, which a man is taught not to fear himself, he is seldom afraid of inflicting society. The Saxons are represented as a cruel nation ; buE their enemies have drawn the picture. Vortigern, who had been elected king of the distressed Britons, induced' those conquerors to lend him assistance. I’hey came over into Bri- tain in great numbers, commanded by Ilengist and Horsa, of the race of Odin. They march- ed against the Picts, and, in con- ^ ^ junction with the British arms, de- ' * feated them in several encounters, obliging them to retreat into the most northern parts of tlie province. I'he Saxons, thus finding themselves? evidently the most powerful' people upon tlie island, seemed resolved to re^sard themselves with those parts of it which were most to their liking. Tficy first obtained consent from the Britons to send over for more forces, under a pretence of guarding their frontier. These seated themselves in the northern provinces, and repressed the inearsiotis of the Picts and Scots with great bravery and success. Those nations were, therefore, obliged to bound their territo- ries with the rough and mountainous countries that lie between the twm seas; .and such have, ever since, continued the boundaries of England- and Scotland. The province thus secured from the common enemy, dissensions began to arise between the Britons and their new allies. The Saxons valued too highly the assistance they had given, and tiie- Britons perhaps under-ra'.ed wdiat they had re- ceived. In. a contei:t of this nature, it is na- tural to imagine, that the stronger nation always imposes laws on the weaker. The Saxons, al- C 3 < ' lured 34 an history of England, lured by the fertile soil and the soft climate, con- tinued to invite greater numbers from the conti- nent, and now turned thdir arms upon the Bri- tons, who vainly attempted to oppose them. This contention was still more inflamed by the difference of their opinion in matters of religion, the Saxons being all Pagans, and the Britons professing Christianity. At such a time as this, a Christian hero was w'anted to vindicate the rights of Christianity; and, probably, merely for . p. this reason, fiction has supplied us with a Christian hero. King Ar- thur, the British champion, is. said to have 'worsted the Saxons in twelve different engage- ments ; yet, notwithstanding all his victories, and wdiatever his prowess might have performed, ' it did not serve to rescue his country from its new possessors. The Saxons pursued their designs with courage and fierceness ; new? swarms of their countrymen came continually -over, till, at length, in about a century and an half, they had subdued the whole body of the province, and established in it seven different kingdoms, wdilch were, by the writers of those times, styled the Saxon Pleptarchy. The Britons, driven from their ancient pos- ^ 2) c 8 escape the fury of the conquerors, retired to the moun- tainous parts of Wales and Cornw-all ; countiies' barren and desolate, but, in some measure, sur- rounded by the sea, and towards the land, dif- ficult of access. Some great colonies of them, wholly abandoned their native country, sailed over to the neighbouring shores of France, where possessing new seats, they gave a new de- nomination to that peninsula, which still pre- serves IN A SERIES OF LETTER?. 3^ serves the name and memory of Britain there, a name no longer continued at home. x\ll the posse;sions of the Britons now fell into the power of the conc|uerots, who began to lose • their natural fierceness, and soften into iheluxu-- pies of those they had invaded. Though conquer- ors ever bring their own customs among the peo- ple they subdue, they, at the same time, assume some customs from those they have conquered. The Saxons now lost all that spirit of freedom their nation had been long famous for, and, in imitation of the Britons themselves, among whom slavery was permitted since the time of the Romans, they made the people of Britain §laves. These wretches were used in tilling the ground, feeding cattle, and other such servile works ; farming out lands at a certain yearly sti- pend, but always held at the will and pleasure of the landlord. The children of -this miserable people belonged to the soil, like the rest of the stock or cattle upon it; and thus began villanage in England, an horrid custom, borrowed from the Romans originally, and derived now to the Sax- ons by vicious Imitation. The Saxons, now no longer fearing domestic loes, relaxed into luxury and' vice ; and, finding no other enemies to subdue, began to fight with each other. The princes of the seven kingdoms they had erected, began mutually to emulate each other’s power, and for the space of above two hundred years, all the misery that ambition, treachery or war, could bring upon a kingdom, was the consequence of their animosity. The dissensions of petty princes are ever more efs- tressful to a people, tlnan the wars of extensive empires. The historians of this period am as barbarous as the transactions they describe ; but it is sufficient to know, that, after many various c'vejits 36 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, events and revolutions between the several races of the heptarchy, Ecbert descended from the West- Saxon kincs, partly by conquest, and partly by inheritance, became tlie first sole monarch of England. This was the name which the coun- try now assumed, to distinguish it from the prin- cipality of Wales, possessed by the ancient Bri- tons ; and from that part of the island north of the Tweed, posses.sed by the Piets and Scots, called Scotland. No customs, truly British or Roman, were now to be seen i the language of the country, which had been either Latin or Celtic, was dis"- continued, and the Saxon or English only was spoken. The land before divided into colonies or governments, was now cantoned into shires, with Saxon appellations to distinguish, them, 'j'lteir habits in peace, and amis in vt^ar, their titles oi honour, laws and methods of trial, were ail continued, as originally practised by the Suevi; but their commonwealths were now no more : these were changed for despotic and here- ditary monarchies : and their exemplary chastity, and their abhorrence of slavery were' quite for- gotten. The conquerors were corrupted by pros- perity. They became Christians indeed by the preaching of Austin the monk ; but this little improved their manners: twelve hundred British monks, w ho would not acknowledge Austin for a sa;nt, are said to have been slaughtered by or- der of these new-converted Christians, in a field near Caerleon. (.hristiamty, when erroneously taught, is even more injurious to society than Paganism; in all the sacrifices to the British idols, or the Saxon god Woden, I have not read of such a multitude oi victims offered together, The devotion of this IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 37 this people, however, was equal to their igno- rance. Their kings irequently abdicated the crown for the cowl ; their queens thought it me- ritorious, though joined in wedlock, to continue in virginity; and some, for this erroneous prac- tice, after their death, were canonized as saints. At this period, namely, the seventh century, the arts and sciences, which had been before only known in Greece and Rome, were disseminated over Europe, where they sufficed, indeed, to raise the people above natural and savage barba- rity, but then they lost their own splendor by the transplantation. The English, at the time I am now speaking of, might be considered as polite, if compared to the naked Britons at the invasion of Caesar. The houses, furniture, deaths, meet- ings, and all the luxuries of sense, w^ere almost as great then as they are at present : they were only incapable of sentimental pleasure ; all the learning^f the times was confined to the clergy, and little could be expected from their efforts, since their principal tenet was to discard the lights of reason. An eclipse w as, even by their histo- ' rians, talkedof as a dangerous omen of threaten- ed distresses ; and magic w’as not only believed as possible, but, what is more strange, there were some who even fancied they understood magic. In short, this w liole period was tissued over with ignorance, cruelty, and superstition : and the kingdom seemed united under one m.onarch, only the more readily to admit a new invader. I am, &c. LETTER 38 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, LETTER VIT. It might have reasonably been expected, that a fortunate prince, as Ecbert had always been, at the head of so large an united kingdom, alter the expulsion of the Piets, Scots, and Britons, should not only have enjoyed the fruits of peace, but even have left tranquillity and happiness to his most distant posterity; yet, such is the insta- bility of human alfairs, and the weakness of man’s best conjectures, that Ecbert was scarcely settled on his throne, when the whole kingdom was alarmed by the approach of an unexpected A D fierce, barbarous, and brave. About this time a mighty swarm of those nations which had possessed the countries bordering on the Baltic, began under the names of Danes and Normans, to infest tlie western coasts of Europe, filling the places wherever they came with slaughter and devastation. It is also remarkable enough, that the people whom they spoiled were no other than colonies of their own countrymen, who had migrated some cen- turies before, and plundered those very countries wdiere they were now themselves plundered m turn. 7’'be Normans fell upon the northern coasts of Frarice ; the Danes chiefly levelled their /! n '"-39 Et^gistad, and enterlxtg the • 03 • 'pha;aes with an incredible number of ships, carried away all that could neither be defended nor withdrawn from the suddenness of the invasion. The V. cak opoosition the Danes met with from the Fug! sh, "uiy served to invite tlien; to re- new t;. : jep edctio s, and make fresh attempts the succcedi ;g season. The bravest blood of the IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 39 the English had been already exhausted in civil war, under the dissensions of the Saxon heptar- chy: and when those wars were terminated, pil- grimages, penances, cloisters and superstitions, served to enfeeble the remainder. Thus the Saxons were become as unable to make opposi- tion against the Danes, as the Britons were to oppose the Saxons heretofore : they, therefore, bought off their invaders with money: a remark-- able instance how much they had degenerated from their warlike ancestors. The money which was thus extorted, only increased the avarice and the strength of the enemy. It was also raised by the king from exadlions on the people; this caused new discontent, and served to hasten the fall of their thrones, which already began to totter. This century, however, did not pass without various success, and doubtful fortune, between the two contending nations. No less than tw^elve battles are said to have been fought in one year. The Danes divided their forces into several camps, removed them from one part of the coun-'‘ try to another, as they were forced by necessity, invited by hopes of spoil, or induced by the weakness and divisions of the enemy. They for- tified posts and passages, built castles for the de- fence of their borders, and the whole country was in some measure covered with their re- doubts, the vestiges of which remain to this day. This manner of fortifying the country, and the dilference of religion, seem to be the only cus- toms in wdfich the Danes differed from the Sax- ons they had invaded. They were both origi- nally from the same country, and their manners consequently the same. The AN HISTORY OF ENSLAN®. 40 7'he slinHitude of language, laws, and man- ners, soon produced an intercourse between both nations ; and though they w^ere still enemies, the Danes gradually began to mingle among the peo- ple of England, and submit to the laws and kings of the country they had partly subdued. But what concord could be expedled between Chris- tians as the English tlien w-ere, and Pagans, for such the Danes still continued ? Wherefore, though the English, in some measure, admitted the Danes, yet, still, the) hated them ; this pro- duced frequent contests, which most frequently laid the country in blood. In this period of cruelty, jealousy, and deso- lation, a man seemed raised up to his bleeding country, to defend its rights, improve the age in A r\ o which he lived, and even to adorn ‘humanity. Alfred the Great was the fourth son of E.thelwolf, king of England, and had received the earlier part of his education un- der the inspection of Pope Leo, in Rome, which was at that time the chief seat of arts and learn- ing in Europe. Upon the death of his elder bro- ther, Ethelred, he was called to the English throne, of which he was only nominally put in possession, the country being _ over-run by the Danes, who governed with cruelty and pride. Elis leign began w'lh wars, and he was forced into the field immediately upon his coronation.^ His first battles w^ere fought with success; but at length, being overpowered by a Danish com- bination, the unfc'! unit. Alfred was obliged to seek safety by flight, 'a this manner, being abandoned bv ^he wn>rid, witnout succour, and fearing an enci-’y in e er • the royal fugi- tive was resolved noi his country, as was IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 41 was usual with his predecessors. He retired to the cottage of a cowherd, in a solitary part of the county of Somerset, at the confluence of the ri- vers Parrct and Thone : here he lived six months as a servant, and, as we are told, was sometimes reproved for his indolence, by his mistresSj the cosvherd's wife The earl of Devonshire was alone privy to the place of his retreat ; and hap- pening to overthrow a body of the .Danes, ac- quainted Allied M'ith the news of his success. Alfred now, therefore, began to consider how to turn the present consternation of the enemy to his own advantage. He apprised his friends of the place of his retreat, and instructed thetn to be ready, with what troops they could raise, upon a minute’s warning; but still none was found who would undertake .to give intelligence of the forces or posture of the enemy. Not knowing, therefore, whom to confide in, he un- dertook this dangerous task hiiTSsSelf: in the sim- ple dress of a shepherd, v/ith an harp in his handy he entered the Danish camp, had admission to the priitcipal generals, and was allow^ed to excel upon that instrument. He soon perceived that the enemy weie divided among tiiemselves : he seises the favourable moment, flies to the earl of De- vonshire, heads his troops, forces their camp, and gains a complete victory. Alfred knew the arts of negociation as well as those of war; he had sufficient address to cause himself to be acknowledged king by the Danes, as vrell as his own natural subjects. London strll remained to be subclued : he besieged it, took and fortified it in a manner wTich w'as then thou'zht impregnable. He fitted out a Heet, kept the Danes in his dominions under proper subjec- tion. AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 4 a tion, and repressed the invasions of others from abroad. His next care was to polish that country by the arts of peace, which he had subdued by the arts of war. He is said to have drawn up a body of laws I but those which -remain to this day, under his name, seem 10 be no more than. Irm'S already practised imthe country by his Saxon ancestors, ind to which, pia bably, he gave his sanction. The trials by juricr', mulcts and fines for offences, by some asciibed to him, are of a much more ancient date than his reign. It is sufficient to observe, that th.e penai laws of our ancestors were mild and humane. As a nation becomes more polite, the penal la'-vs become more numerous and severe, till, at length, grow- ing intolerable to the poor, against whom they are principally levelled, they throw? off the yoke ol legal bondage, either by admitting a despotic prince, or by taking the government into their ^ own hands by military invasion. I remember few great characters in history, that liad not a regard for the sciences. Alfred is said to have founded the university of Oxford, and sujj^^lied it with books from Rome. The spirit of superstition bad quite suppressed all the efforts of philosophy at this period. He is said to have lamented, that no priest in all his dominions understooci Latin. As for him, he knew it, and was also well versed in the geometry of those barbarous ages. He was an excellent historian, made some translations from the Latin which still subsist, and it is even said that he composed some excel- lent poems in the Saxon language. Those hours which he could take from business, he gave to study. He was a complete oeconomist, and this gave him an opportunity of being liberal. His care even extended to the manner in which the people IN A SERiaS or LETTERS. 43 people built their houses. Before his time, the generality of the nation made use, mostly, of timber in building Alfred having raised his pa- laces with brick, the nobility, by degrees, began to imitate his example. From this time, though, the reigns immediately succeeding are marked with ignorance, supersti- tion, and cruelty, yet, in general, history puts on a form less severe : the 'whole nation seems to emerge into a greater degree of politeness than it had before enjoyed. The coins of this period are better struck than those of preceding princes. The marine, in his time, seems first to have given rise to our claim to the ocean. In short, from this period, Englisl) history may properly be said to commence, and our constitution to take its rise. We are connected with the events previous to Alfred’s reign only by motives of cu- riosity, but wnth those that follow him, by the more prevailing inducement of interest. This great man died in the year 900, in the 52d year of his age, after a reign of more than tw^enty- eight years; the first part spent in war and dis- tress, the latter in peace and prosperity. LETTER VIII, Historians and critics are fond of repre- senting the period which succeeded Alfred as en- tirely barbarous ; yet there are many traces of both erudition and politeness in those very ages which have been particularly called obscure. In the reign of his successor, Edward, W'e find gallantry, which is one of the best marks of politeness in any AN HISTORY OF ENGLANIS'. 44 any country, not entirely unknown : his amours whh Egwina, wrho, though by birth a shepherd’s daughter, received an education becoming a princess, and, at length, subdued the heart of Edward, is a remarkable instance of the power the fair sex then enjoyed. In this reign, too, the university of Cambridge was founded. The fa- mous Scotus flourished at this time; a man w'hose learning appears amazing, even to an age which prides itself upon its erudition. In the reign of Atheistan, who succeeded Ed- ward, the Bible was translated into Saxon ; a work which evinces ho w A. D. 924. just the opinion is with regard to the religion, and the learning of that age. Alliances also on the Continent were formed by this monarch ■, it is said he w’-as equally feared by his neighbours, and loved by the greatest princes of Europe. ' We find little remarkable in the reign of Ed- mund I. but that the' first capital punishment was instituted by him. He had remarked fhaf fines and pecuniary punishment’s were too gentle me- thods of treating those who w'ere convicted of robberies, w^ho generally were men w'ho had no- thing to lose; he therefore ordered, that, in gangs of robbers, the oldest of them sheuld be condemned to the gallows. This was reckoned a very severe law at the time it was instituted. WTat would our ancestors say, upon seeing the crimnal laws now' used by their posterity ? The death of this monarch is too remarkable to be passed without notice. His virtues, abili- ties, wealth, and temperance, promised a long and happy reign ; when, on a ceitain day, as he was solemnizing a festival in Gloucestershire, he saw^ a mrdefactor, whose name was Leolf, banished the kingdom for his crimes,-) ^who had been IN A SERIES OP LETTERS. 4 !* crimes,) sifting at one of the tables in the hall where the king was at dinner. Enraged at such insolence, he commanded himNo be apprehend- ed ; but perceiving him drawing his dagger, in order to defend himself, the king started up in a rage, and catching him by the hair, dragged him- but of the hall. In the mean time, Leolf, who' bad drawn the dagger, lifting his arn),‘ with a -furious blow stabbed the monarch to the heart, who fell down on the bosom of his mur- derer, “ The Danes, during these three reigns, were kept within proper bounds, they frequently re- volted, were subdued, and treated with lenity by the conquerors. The monks now began to have the direction of affairs, and .consequently to en- feeble the stare. ■■ Eldred succeeded Edmund, and began his AD 6 w'ith some victories over the * Scotch and Danes, wdiich the monks were skilful enough to ascribe to the miraculous interposition of heaven. Among the number Dunstan, abbot of Glastonbury, had peculiar in- fluence over the mind of the credulous monarch, and at length became the director of the affairs of the kingdom. By this means the monks ac- quired such power, as served to retard the vi- gour of every future operation against the Danes. However, what they look from the real strength of their country, they returned in appellations of honour and respect. Eldred was styled Monarch of Alhion, and King of Britain \ and tliis at a period when his monarchy was upon the very verge of ruin. The sons of Eldred were set aside, and Edvvy, his eldest brother’s son, vi^as placed ^ ■ on the throne. At this time the crown ' 4^ AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, crown appears to have been elective, and those elections entirely influenced by the clergy. The secular priesthood seems to have placed the crown upon this monarch’s head in opposition to the monks, who were then rising into esteem among the people. Thus were the English divided by religious disputes, and involved in all the fury of civil war, while the Danes were every hour increasing their own strength, and sending over fresh forces. The seculars w-ere possessed of the riches of the country, but the monks who op- posed them,, were in possession of the power of working miracles. Crucifixes, altars, and even horses were heard to harangue in defence of the monks,' and inveigh against the secular clergy ; but particularly Dunstan the monk had no small power over the hosts of heaven ; his illumina- tions were frequent, his temptations strong, but he always resisted with bravery. The devil, say the monks, and that seriously too, once tempted him in the shape of a fine woman ; but the saint soon sent him off, by catching him by the nose, and leading him about for public derision. Such stories were then propagated, and, what is still more extraordinary, were believed, f am the more surprised at the credulity of the times, as the people certainly were not destitute of clas- sical learning, and some skill in the polite arts. We have a Latin speech or two still preserved, which were spoken by their monarchs at that pe- riod, replete with elegance, perspicuity and good sense. However that may be, the monks by the assist- ance of miracles, prevailed : Edwy was de- . throned, and his brother Edgar • • 959* placed m his room. H storians re- present England under this reign as completely happy j IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 47 happy ; and it is certain, the kingdom still seemed to enjoy the fruits of Alfred’s wisdom ; for, of all the ages, from the entire decadence of taste, till its revival in the fifteenth century, this might be termed the Augustan. The En- glish fleets are described as amounting to above four thousand ships; Kings came to Edgar’s court, and returned, without molestation or fear. Music, painting, and poetry, were then held as necessary accomplishments to a refined education, as they are at present. But his gal- lantries are peculiarly the subject of the histo- rians of that time, and are still the theme of romance, tie is said, first, to have debauched a nun, then to have tempted the chastity of a nobleman’s daughter ; but the amour, which is famous to this day, is his adventure with the beautiful Elfrida. Edgar had long heard of the beauty of a young lady whose name was Elfrida, daughter to the Earl of Devonshire ; but, unwilling to credit fame in this particular, he sent Ethelwolf, his favourite, to see if Elfrida were indeed that in- comparable woman report had spoken her. Edielwolf had no sooner arrived at the Earl of Devonshire’s and cast his eyes upon that nobles man’s beautiful daughter, but he became des« perately enarroured of her himself; such w^as the violence of his passion, that, forgetting his master, he demanded the beautiful Elfrida for his own wife. His request was granted ; the favouri eof a king was not likely !o find a re- fusal, and they were married in private. Eeturn- ing soon after to court, he assured the king, that Elfrida was much inferior to the representations that had been made of tier, and he was amazed how ihe woild could talk so much of her charms. The 48 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, The king was satisfied, and no longer felt any curiosity. Ethelwolf, therefore, after some time, pe rceiving the king perfectly indifferent with regard to the Lady, represented to his majesty, one day, that, though the fortune of the Earl of Devonshire’s daughter would be a trifle to a monarch, yet it would bean immense sum to a needy subject ; and therefore he humbly prayed leave to pay his addresses to her, as being the greatest heiress in the kingdom. A request, so _ seemingly .reasonable, was readily complied with. Ethelwmlf returned to his wife and their nup- tials were solemnized in public. Lie had the precaution, however, of not permitting her to appear at court, before a king so susceptible of love, while she was so. capable of inspiring pas- sion. Notwithstanding all these precautions, it was impossible to keep his treachery long con- cealed. Favourites are never vtnthout private enemies, who desire an opportunity of rising upon their ruin. Edgar w^as informed of all, but dissembling his resentment, he took an oc- casion to visit that part of the country where this miracle of beauty w^as detained, accompanied by his favourite. Vfhen he was near the place, he told him, he had a curiosity to see his wife, of whom he had formerly heard so much : Ethel- wolf, thunderstruck at the proposal, did all in his power, but in vain, to dissuade him; all he could obtain was leave to go before, on pretence of preparing her for tlie king’s reception. On his arrival, he fell at his wflfe’s feet, confessing what he had done to be possessed of her charms conjured her to conceal, as much as possible, her beauty from the king, who was but too susceptible of passion. Elfrida promised compli- ance, but prompted either by vanity or revenge, - adorned IN A SERIES OE LETTERS. 4 ^ Bdorned her person with the most exquisite art and called up all her beauty upon this occasion. The event answered her expectations: the king no sooner saw, but he loved, and was instantly restolved to obtain her. The better to effect Ids design, he concealed his sensations froui the hus- band, and took his leave with a seeming indiffer- ence. Soon after Ethelwolf was sent to Nor- thumberland, upon pretence of urgent affairs ; but he never performed the journey : he was found murdered in a wood, by the king’s com- ^ mand, who tookElfrida to court, where their nup- tials were celebrated with the usual solemnity. I have been the more explicit in this story, as, in the first place, it serves to shev/ that ladies were admitted to court in this early period : it also demonstrates, that men and women were ^never kept separate in England, as in Spain and other countries : It still evinces, that, however polite they miight be at the time ’{am speaking of, there v/as still a 'savage air, that mixed in every action, and sufficiently distinguished those age* of barbarism from the civilized ages of Greece and Rome. But to stamp the age with still greater rudeness, Edgar, who was tiius guilty of mu-rd.er, saciiiege, and adultery, was placed among the number ol saints, by the monks who have written his history. The defects of Edgar’s government fell upon his successors ; the power of the monks Increased, and that of the state was diminished in propor- tion. Every provision for the safety of tlie kingdom began to decline ; and the rernissness of the English roade way for new incursions of the Danes, who exacted exorbitant tri- ^ ^ butes from the kings, and plundered ' ' the subjects at discretion. Edward the Martyr, VaL.I D wha 50 AN HISTORY OF ENGLANB. who had not the least title to so glorious an ap- pellation, was crowned King by the single au- thority of Dunstan, and consequently increased monkish power : he was murdered by order of Elfrida, who seems to have had the highest con- trast, in her own person, of the greatest external charms, and the most odious interna! deformity. Eihelred II. finding himself unable to oppose tlse Danes, compounded with them lor his safe- ty ; but, soon after, being strengthened by an sIHance with the Duke of Normandy, he laid a detestable scheme for massacring all the Danes in the kingdom. This plot was carried on with such secrecy, that it was executed in one day, end all the Danes in England were destroyed ^ ^ without mercy. A massacre, hso ^ ' • oo . perfidious, instead of ending the long miseries of this wretched coun- try, only made way for new and greater calami- ties than before Swayne, king of Denmark, -exasperated by the slaughter of his countrymen, and among the rest, of his own sister, who was beheaded in Ethel red’s presence, soon after landed In Eng- land, and filled the v.’hole kingdom with the marks of an horrid vengeance, obliging Ethel- red to fly to Norniandy for relief. Th.e English, unable to oppose, yet unwilling to submit, for a short time groaned under the Danish yoke, Rtid again, upon an opportunity given, called their banished monarch back to his throne. Btiielred returned, but being a weak, as well as a cruel pi ince, he lost the hearts of his subjects, and, with their love, ail his authority. He ne- ver, thcrciore, could recover strength enough to oppose the forces and numbers of the Danes, to v^'hem n>any oi the English nobles, as well as cornmonaity, had, in his absence, submitted. Swayne IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 5 ^ Swayne -was the first Danish manarch who swayed the English sceptre, but he died belbre he could be said to come to a peaceable enjoyment oi' what he had so hardly toiled for. His son, Canute, however, atchieved 'what . ^ the father had begun. Edmund Ironside, elected by the English, who was his rival in government, and who succeeded Ethel- red in this disputed sovereignty, continued, for a short time, to oppose the progress of the Danish 'Conquests with success; but, Canute, gaining'a bloody victory over the forces of this monarch, he was obliged first to a division of thekingdorn, and his untimely death, soon after, gave Canute quiet and undisturbed possession oEthe whole. This fierce monarch cut olF some of the royal Saxon line, and forced others into exile. He was at once king of England, Denmark, and Norw'-ay ; and from the extent of his dominion, perhaps, rather than from the greatness of his mind, received from historia'tis the title of Ca- nu^e the Great. The end of his life, however, was very different from the beginning : the first part of it w'as'inarked with invasion, rapine, and cruelty; the latter Mas equally remarkable for justice, humanity, and religion, Upon a certain occasion, being desirous of shewing his flatterers h-ow little he deserved the ex-agge rated praise with which they loaded him, he ordered a chair to be brought, and, seating himself on the sea shore, where tlie tide was about to flow, he ad- dressed the sea in this manner: Q sea, ikoxi art tindir tny dominion, and f. hi, land. which I sit upon is mine ■, I charge thee, approach no further, nor ■ dare to wet the Jut of .thy sovereign. I'he tide, however, advancing as usual, he turned to Ifis -courtiers, and observed, that the titles of Loid Da and AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND. ’ ati-'? Master only belonged to him whom both eat th and seas were ready to obey. Harold Harefoot and Hardicanutej his Danish successors, were unworthy of him: the first is remarkable for no virtue, and the latter is distin- guished, principally, for his cruelty and avarice. This last dying suddenly, at a feast, left the. Da- iviTi race of kings so hated, by their exactions and impositions on the people, that Edward, sur- namedthe Confessor, of the Saxon A- 104^2;. race, found both from Danes and iSaxons, an easy accession to the jcrown. Thus expired, not only the dominion, but all attempts ol invasion from the Danes for the fu- tine. Though their ravages had continued for above two hundred yearsj yet they left no change of laws, customs, language or religion- The many castles they had built, and the many fami- lies tl 'ey left behind them, served alone to dis- cover the places of their establishment. After the accession of Edward the Confessor to the ■crown, the English and Danes, as if wearied with mutual slaughter, united in. support of go- vevrnTimtj ‘arid, peaceably living amongst each other, formed ever after but one people. The reign of .Edw^ard the Confessor was long and happy. He had long lived in Normandy, fmd;, in, some measure, adopted the language and icHining of that country, Hia wars were suc- cessfuf -troth in Scotland and Wales, though ma- naged by his leaders, and without his personal attendance. The casiiiess of his disposition, however, together with Iris credulity and super- stiiion, paved the way for another invasion of tin," eountry, as- if the .English wefe destined to be govinT.cd only by fortign masters. Earl I IN A SERfIS OF ttTTIRS. 53= Earl Godwitij by whose interest Edvr^ard had come to the crown, exertM all his inflaence to establisii his own son, Harold, as his successor. This too oowerful Subject pretended to be much displeaseo. at the lav our shewui by the King to ths- Kortnan nobility, W‘ho came over, in numbers, to the English court. These discontents at kngih produced an insurrection. Edward, now grown old, and indolent by nature, undertook to oppose those disorders, rather by negociation than arms. Ti 'eating with rebels is a certain method of in- creasing- their powers by this means Harold gained, by degrees, the authority he contended for, and had powder sufiicieat to settle tbesucces* sion upon himself. . While Edward was thus leaving his earthly kingdom to contention and misery, he was, in the mean time, busily employed' in gaining, as hs imagined, a heavenly one. It was not sufficient for him' to aspire at all the virtues necessary for carrying him to heaven ; he desired to be, reck- oned a saint of the first order. He preten Jed to several revelations, was p-ossessed of the gift of prophecy, and was the first who trujclied for those scrophuious disorders, which, Irom hence, have been denominated the King’s Evil Jlutw hat gained him a distinguished place among the saints, was his continence, his n tVairing from the wmman to whom he was actually married. It is said he espoused the beautiful Editha, purely to exercise his virtues, by withstanding a conti- nual temptation. This, as we may suppose, left her to sterility; thus, his leaving no issue was the cause of numberless miseries which fell upon the kingdom soon after his decease. Edward ^4 HISTORT OF ENGLANB, Edward, as I observed, had no chiidren. He seemed, however, desirous ol leaving the crown to Lis nephew Edgar Aiiieling : but distrusting his ability to defend the title, and knowing the strength of Harold, his opponent, he left the succession undecided. It is probable. A. Z). 1066 this weak monarch was no way solicitous w ho succeeded in a governtneKt which he hiiiisdf seemed to despise. LETTER IX. Upon the death of Fdivarcl, Harold now al- ledged that he was appointed successor A. D' by will. This w^as no more than what 1 066. the people of England had expected long before : his pretensions were be- lieved by some, and allowed by all. He had some right to a crown hitherto elective, from his pri- vate virtues ; and he confirmed his rights by the BjOSi irresistible argum.ent, his power. Thus the monarch came to the throne by the most equita- ble of all titles ; I mean the consent of the people. ETis exaltation seemed otily to be the com- mencement of ins calamities. His first trouble was from his own biCther, wEo, being the elder, obtained assistance from Norway, to set up a title to the English crown, Harold immediately levied a numerous army, and marched to meet the Norwegians, who, with a vast force, had over-run all the northern parts of the kingdom, and had committed incredible devastatimi. Both armie= soon joined battle. The Norwegians, for some time, bravely tieiinded a bridge which IN A SSRI'£3 OF LETTERS. laf between them and the English; but, at length, the valour of Ktrold 'surmounted. everv obstacle. Ke passed the bridge, renewed tiie assault, and after anobstiitate resistance entirely routed the inva-ders-. There had never before been seen in England an engagenfent between two sucii numerous armies, each having no less than threescore thousand men. The news of this victory diffused the greatest joy over the whole kingdom j; but their raptures were soon suppressed by an information, that n, ,, William of Normandy, surnnmed the Conqueror, had landed at Hastings, ^^oo. with a vast body of disciplined vetera^us,: and khl claim to the English crown.- This prince was , the natural son of Robert, ^ duke of Normandy; his roothei’s name wots Ar- Iotte,...a beautiful maid of Falaise, with whcm Robert fell in love, as she stood gating at lier door, whilst he passed through the town. 'Wil- liam, who was the offspring of this amour, owed his greatness to his birth, and his fortunes to his personal merit.. His Arody. was vigorou<=, h's mind capacious, and his courage not to be inti- midated. His father Robert, .growing old, a nd, ., as was usual with princes of that. age, supersti- tious, resolved upon a pilgrim?»ge to the holy se- pulchre at Jerusalem. The nobility used every argument to dissuade him, but he persisted in his design.-. E[e> shewed them W’iliiam, whom, though illegitimate, he tenderly loved, recom- mending.him to their care and loyalty. He then exacted their liomage and fealty to this prince, who was not yet above ten years old; and then put him under the tutelage of the French King, in whom he placed the highest confidence. Robertv. $6 AN HISTORY 0? INGLAKJJ/ Robert, soon nfter going into Asia, and dyings left his son rather inheritor of his •^vishes than his crown. Our young soldier found himself errposed to many dangers, from his youth and .inexperience, irom the reproach of his birth, froH) a suspected guardian, a disputed titk, and a distracted state. However, he syrteounted alt ’trith nnc'osnmon «or, till he hsd mta- Jblhhed peace, order, ttnd tr.afiq«'illity, hi his own kingdom, did he turn his smbUtous fkwS^ abroad. It has been already said, that Edward the Con» fessor resided for a long time at the Court of Ro- bert duke of Normandy ; and upon this, William founded his clrdm. Whether gratitude might have engaged this exiled prince to make William his benefactor’s son, any prs)mi?es of the king- dom ol England, after his decease, is at this dis- tance of time uncertain: William, however,!:, .ripon the death of Edw'ard, immediately made his pretensions, and upon the former promise of Edward founded all the justice of liis demand. To this he added, that Harold had himself as-* sured him of his interest in the succession, when forced upon the Norman coast ; he therefore sent to remind him of fulfilling his engagements. Harold admitted of neither of these claims, and resolved to defend by his valour, W’hat be had acquired by his intrigues. He was at the head of a large army, lately victorious, ^ndnow confident. He observed, that he had been elected by tlio'^e only wlto had the power of plac- ing kings on the throne, namely, by the people;, and that he could not resign his crow n without a breach of that trust reposed in him by his consti- tuents. He added to these reasons one of still greaie.r IN A SERIIS OF LETTERS. ^7 greater weight ; he was possessed of power, and knew how to defend it. William xvho had landed his army at Hastings, in Sussex, at first rrmcle no appearance of invad- ing an hostile country, but rather of encamping in his own. But he was soon roused from his inactivity, by the approach of Harold, who re- turned from the defeat of the Norwegians, with all the forces he had employed in that expedition, and all he could invite, or cvfilect, in the coun- try through which he passed. These were, iu general, brave, active, and valiant troops, in high spirits, strongly attached to their king, anil eager to engage. The army of VV illiam, on the other hand, consisted of the flow'er of all the continent : men of Bretagne, Brabant, Bologne, Flanders, Poictu, Maine, Orleans, France, and Normandy, were united under his command. He had long been familiar with conquest, and his troops were confident of his military capaci- ty. England,, never before, nor ever since, saw two such armies drawn up to dispute its crown. The day before the battle, W illiam sent an offer to Harold to decide, the quarrel between them' by single combat, and thus to c.pare the blood of their people ; but Fla rold re fu-sed, and said, he would leave it ,to God to determine. Both armies, therefore, that night pitclied in sighj: of each other, expecting the next terrible day' with sofcitude: the English passed the night in songs and feasting ^ the Normans, in devo- tions and prayer. The next morning at seven, as soon as day ap- peared, both annles drew up in array against each other. Flarokl appeared leading on the cemtre of the English army, on foot, that his- I> 3 men 58 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, men might he more encouraged by seeing their king exposed to equal danger with themselves. William fought on horseback, and commanded the body of reserve. The Normans began the fight with their cross bows : these at fi rst galled and surprised the English, and, as their ranks Were close, the arrows did great execution ; but when they came to close fight, the Normans ware hewn down by the English bills, which, of all weapons, inflicted the most deep and ghastly wounds. William, endeavouring to pierce their ranks, assaulted them so often, and with such bravery, that he had three horses killed in the attempt. f*erceiving that they still continued, irapeoetrable, he nuw pretended to fly : this drew the English from their ranks, and he was i. stamly ready to take advantage of their disor- der. Upon a signal given, the Normans re- turned to the charge with greater fury than be- fore, broke the English troops, and pursued them- to a rising ground. Harold now flew from rank, to rank : though he had toiled all day frora morning till now near night- fall, in the front of his Kentish m,en ; yet still he continued with un- abated vigour to i^new the fight, and exhort his men by his voice and example. The day now- again seemed to turn against the victors, and the Normans fell in great numbers. The fierceness and obstinacy of this memorable: battle was oftea renewed by the courage of the leaders, W’herever that ol the soldiers began to slacken. Fortune,, at length determined a victory that valour was. unable to decide: Flarold, making a furious on- set at the head of his troops,, was shot into the. brains by an arrow. All the courage of the English expired with their brave but unfortunate leader. IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 59 leader. He fell with his tword in his hand, fighting for his country, ainldst tlie heaps of slain, so that the royal corpse could hardly after the battle be distin-. guished among the dead. This was the end of the Saxon monarchy iii’’ England, which had continued for more than six hundred years. Before the times of Alfred, the kings seemed totally immersed in ignorance ; and, after him, taken up with combating superstition, . or blindly obeying its dictates. As for the crown, it was rather bequeathed by its possessor to vrhom he thought proper, than transmitted by hereditary and- natural succession. As for the laws and customs of this race, they brought in many of their own, and adopted several belong- ing to the ancient Britons and Romans, whiclv they found in the country upon their invasion. They assumed the names of Kings,' nay some of - them took the Greek appellation of Basileus ; titles unknow’n in the country from whence they came. Their earls were called Dukes, or Duces ; a name borrowed from the Romans, and signi- fying captains.. The lower class of „ people were; bought and sold with the farms they cultivated ; a custom first introduced by the conquerors of the woi ld, and v/hich subsists, in some countries where the Roman lavvs continue, to this dav. Their canon laws, also,, at that time, were often mixed with the ciyii laws, and w^ere equally co- ercive : but these canon laws bad their origin from Rome, and the priests and monks, vi ho drew them up, generally had/heireducationthere. We must not, therefore, ascribe all the laws and customs, which at that time prevailed oyer Kng-. land, to a Saxon original, since they were, in some case.s, derived from the Britons and Roman.' . But & An HISTOHY OF ENCtAND, But now all those customs and laws, of whatever original, were cast dowm into one common mass, and cemented by those of Norman institution. The whole face of obligation was changed, and new masters and new^ forms observed. The laws were improved, but the taste of the people for polite learning, arts, and philosophy, for more than four hundred years to come, w ere still to continue the same. It is indeed surprising, that, in such a variety of events, such innovations in manners, and such changes in government, true politeness never came to be cultivated. Perhaps the reason may be, that the people suffered them- selves to be instructed only by the clergy, anuests tliat could end neither in ad- vantage nor fame. To increase the confusion, the clergy loudly complained of encroachments up...( their privileges ; the people murmured at every liicicase of their raxes : Robert de Mow- bt-ay was. actually taken pnsoner, while he com- manded u f irtress that had shaken off tlie royal aiiUiority. What effects these discontents, wdneh were IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 71 were increased also by the king’s avarice, intem- perance, and prodigality, might have produced, is uncertain ; the most melancholy were expect- ed ; but now the attention of Europe was called off to one of the most remarkable events that history can produce ; I mean the arming for the first crusade. Peter, surnamed the Hermit, who had be- held with indignation, the cruel manner to which the infidels, who were in possession of the Holy Sepulchre, treated the Christians who went on pilgrimages thither, returned to Eu- rope, resolved to inspire the princes of Chris- tendom with a zeal for its recovery. Bareheaded and barefoot, he travelled from court to court, preaching as he w^ent, and infiaming the zeal of every rank of people. Pope Urban II. preached the crusade himself at the council of Clermont ; and numberless persons, of all degrees and nations, ardently embraced the cause, and put on the red cross, the badge of their profession. Among the number was Robert, Duke -of Normandy; he w?as brave, zealous, fond of glory, and still more fond of change. In order to supply money to defray the neces- sary charges of so expensive an undertaking, be offered to mortgage his dukedom w'ith his bro- ther for a stipulated sum. William eagerly em- braced the proposal. He w^as no way solicitous about raising the money agreed on, for he knew the riches of his clergy ; heedless, therefore, of their murmurs, he rigorously levied the W'hole, making us€ of the most pious pretences to cover his extortion. Thus sending his bro- ther to the Holy Land, he took peaceable pos- session of his dukedom. In 72 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAN©. In this manner was Normandy again united to the English crown,; and Irom this uiiion, af- terwards arose those wars with France, which, for .whole centuries, continued to depopulate both nations, without conducing in the end to the enriching of either. William was not a little pleased with this un- expected acquisition .; and, as one success only produces a. desire for more, he began to con- ceive more extensive schemes of ambition. Poictu anclGuienne were offered to be mortgaged for the same reasons as Normandy. William immediately raised the necessary sums, but death interrupted the payment. Happening to hunt in that forest, from whence his father had ba- nished the husbandman and legal possessor, he was accidently shot through the heart, with an arrow, by one Tyrrell ; he died in the forty- . _ fourth year of his age, had reigned iioo. and left a dominion which he had contributed to extend, to impoverish, and enslan'e. There 'were now tw'o competitors for the crown : Robert, who w^as engaged in the Holy War ; and Henry, the youngest brother, who renivained at home. The right of succession was evidently in favour of the first, but the latter was upon the spot. Nothing can be a more evi- dent instance how little hereditary succession was minded at that time, than that Flenry’s title pre- vailed, and that he was elected by the joint ac- clamations of the people. Whenever there is a disputed throne, the people generally regain their liberty. Henry, knowing the weakness of his p’’etensions to the crown, was resolved to strengtijen his power, by gaining the affections of the people : he therefore, once more confirm- ed IN A SERIES -OF LETTER?- cd the ancient Saxon laws, and induiged thef clergy in all tneir former privileges. Upon Robert’s return from the Holy Land, where he refused to be crowned king of Jerufa- iem, he lound himself deprived, in his absence, of a kingd'^m which he considered as his birth- right. H S' attempts, however, to recover it were without success. This prince seemed only born to be the sport of lortune : his bravery, his generosity, and a thousand other good qualities, of which he was possessed, served to render him the dupe of every deceiver, and the instrument of opposing villainy. At one time we behold him prosecuting his pretensions with spirit; at another, giving up the just claim with vicious generosity. Thus, after a life spent in toil, fa- tigue, and ambition, he fonnd himself, at last, ut- terly deprived, not only of his patrimonial duke- dom, but of his fortune, his freedom and friends.. He saw Kortnandy fall to the conqueror; and, to add to his misfortunes, he at la^t languished, for tw^enty-fix years of his life, a prisoner in Ca^diff-castle, in Wales, where he died in capti- vity. To want prudence is, in some measure, to want virtue. Plenry, having acquired possessionof Norman- dy, might now be said to be master of a theatre where many a succeeding tragedy was to be per- formed ; and soon his neighbour of France began to shesy his jealousy of so powerful a rival. Those w'ars now began which were to be so fa-r- tal to distant posterity. The ravages of th® French were at fisst neglected, atid Henry re- mained a quiet spectator in England, as if un- provoked at tfieir insolence ; but soon he shew’ed that his unwillingness to engage was by no means the effect of fear. He passed into Normandy VoL. II. E wha 74 IN KISTOHY OF ENCLAN©, with a powerful army, and offered the enemy battle : the challenge was soon accepted, and a furious combat ensued During the fight, a French cavalier, named Crispin, personally at- tacked the king of England, and struck him twice on the head, wdth such force, that all his armour streamed with an effusion from the wound. The king, however, no w’ay intimi- dated, continued the single combat with resolu- tion, and summoning all his strength, discharged such a blow at his adversary, as threw him irom h.is horse, so that he became the prisoner of the king’s own hand This decided the victory in favour of the Ersglish, who pursued the French with great slaughter, which hastened the peace that was concluded soon after. Fortune now seemed to srude upon Henry, and promised a long succession ol felicity : he was in peaceable p',:S3es3ion of two powerful states, and had a prince ior undisputed heir, now arrived at his sixteenLi. year; a youth of great hopes.; all his enemies were humbled, and many actually in his own power ; ivlatikia, his daughter, was married to the emperoi Henry lY. and lie had the hearts of the greatest number of his subjects, particularly the Engli-h All his prospects, however, were at once clouded by an unforeseen inisioriune ; an acc.sden': -hich tinctured his re-. niaining life vvith misery.-' Benry returning- victorious irom abroad, b; 'ught with him a nu- merous retinue of the chief nobility. In one of the vessels oi the fleet, his son and several young noblemen, his companions, went together to render the passage more agreeable. 'Fhe young .prince, desnous of being first ashore, promised tiie seamen a reward, if they came in foremost. This emulalion was fatal to. them all. iipe pilot .ran IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. the ship upo:i a rock, and irnmcdiately she was dashed to pieces, dhie p-riace however was put into tiie boat, and woakl have escaped, had he not been called back by the cries of Maude,- his natural sister. He was now . out of danger himself, but could not-leave her to perish. He- prevailed upon the sailors to row back to take her in; the approach of t lie beat giving others an opportunity to attempt saving their lives, se- veral leaped in also, so that the boat wars over- loaded, and all, except one, went to the bottoaxiH When Henry was informed of the catastrophe of his only son, lie , covered his face, and never laughed alter. The rest of his life s-eems a mere blank'; his. restless ambition had nothing now to toil for. His daughter, Matilda, - however becoming a widow, he married her a secorid time to Geodrey of Pianiagenet, and, when brought to bed of a son, named Henry, he caused the nobility to take an oath of succession in her favour. The great men of those times were ready to swear whatever the monarch comniamled, but observed k no longer than while they were obliged to obey.. He did not long survive this attempt to. confirm this succession; he died, as it is said, of a surfeit, caused by eating lan.'preys, in the ^ ri'’^ sixty eighth year oi his age, having reigned thirty-six. It is strange, that historians impute it as a fault to several English monarchs ot these times, that they came to the crown without hereditary claims to support their title ; this is one of the fauitsahedged against Henry; but-it is none, if we consider the usual spirit ol other successions. During the r. :ga of Henry, tiie barons and the clergy were growing into power ; each was a Baa petty 16 AN HISTOXY OF INCLIV®, potty tyrant over those who held under him. In order therefore, to confirm privileges so lately acquired, they joined in electing a king, who might owe to them, and not to anv previous claim, his prerogative and sceptre. With such intentions they pitched upon Stephen, nephew to the deceased king: and, as for their oaths to Matilda, the bishops gave them an absolution. They could not, indeed, have made a properer choice than him whom they elected : but their conduct proceeded only from a concern for themselves, and not for the people. Stephen was ready enough to consent to all their exorbi- tant demands ; he acknowledged the crown as their gift, and not his just inheritance; and confirmed all the immunities, privileges, and claims of ihe clergy. The kingdom now began to wear the face of an aristociacy, in which the barons and clergy might be said to command. They built castles, fortified and garrisoned them with their ovrn troops, from whence, when offended, they vtmukl bid their monarch defiance. Of all miseries that ever affected kingdoms, an uncontrouled power among the great is certainly the most afflictive. The tyranny of a single monarch only falls upon tire narrow^ circle round him.; the arbitrary wnM qf a number of delegates falls most heavily upon the lower ranks of people, who have no redrefs. In short, the barons clamoured for their own privileges, the clergy for their own liberty, but the people were slaves. Stephen was sensible of this, and in order to dimmish their powmr, possessed himself, by force, ot soijae oi t! e r castles, which were incompati- ble vritii the sa:'ety of the kingdom. Thus IN A SERIKSOT LITTERS *7 7 Thus we may discern three different contend- ing powers at this time;, the king and his fol- lowers, the barons and tlieir adherents, and the clergy, assisted by the generality of the people; 10 these was soon added a fourth, Matilda, who claimed the crown in pursuance of Henry’s com- mand. This hauglity woman, who had been wife to an enrperor, and still seemed to retain a con- sciousness of her dignity, landed from Norman- dy, accoiTtpanied only by a few followers, and openly laid claim to the crown. Meantime, Stephen, being infoimed c>i her arrival,, flew to besiege Arundel, a castle belonging to the queen dowager, where Matilda had taken up her resi- dence. This fortress did not seem to promise a long defence, and would have been soon taken, had it not been represeirted to hiio, that, as this was a castle belonging to the queen dowager, it v^ould be an infriitgement of the respect due to her to attempt taking it by force. I'here was a spirit of generosity prevaleirt itr the times I treat of, which was unknowri to their degenerate pos- terity.. Stephen pernaitted Matilda to come ont, and conveyed her in salety to Bristol, another fortress equally strong with that irom whence be permitted her to retire. It is a deplorable consideration, that our vir- tues, often, instead of being attend.ed vvith hap- f>y consequences, are found ratal to such as adhere to them without deviation. Pdatikla owing her freedom merely to tise g.eiyero.sity ol the king, made no other use of it but to levy an army against him ; and this army at length proved vic- torious. During the coniinuance of this civil war, the wfiole kingdom was divided; pillage and desolation were the consequence, wlioevcr kappened to be conqueror. It jS AN HISTORY GF EN-GLAWSy It was at length howeverj determined by S decifive- victory obtained over the king. The troops be led were in generalj foreign mercena- ties, and commanded by tumultuous barons^ raor'e accustomed to command than to conquer.- Ills horse gave wajj and bis infant ry^r being des- , tifute of their rssistanoe, soon followed their ex- ample, s'CfJ destrteti their king. All the race o£ 'lOe T'';rtT;'SK eortqurrors w ere brsr-e: StepheOj hoev to fiy, was left alone* and fonght on loot in the niidst of rJhe field of battle, assanlied by muitiiudt 3 , and resisted all their eilorts with astonishing valour. Had big horse then raillect,, he might, have conm off victorious. He was hem- med in cn every side, hut with liis battle-ax made way for some time,; that breaking, he drew' his iword, and dealt liis blows around the circle in which he was inclosed. At length, after perform- ing more than could naturally. be expected from a single arm, his sword flying in pieces, he was obliged to surrender biti'sclf a prisoner. In this nranner, Ite was conoucted by the conqueror from, the field, anc! ignt rciniously laid in irons. Matilda was novv proclaim.ed queen, and, for some time, her power was ncknov/ledged by the generality of the nation. But, as she disdained to accept the shadow of royalty, w'hichwasall fhe barons and clergy - intended to grant, she disgusted litem by Iter pride, and soon made those repent wdio iiad raised her from their levity. 'I'he bishop oi Winciicster seems, at this time, to have been possessed of unboundeci power. He had been chiefly instrumental in raising her to the tinone; Itc now', ilierefore, levied an army, 10 convince h.er, that it was no less in his powder to deprive her of a kingdom, ilian to put her in possession IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. w pb^esslon of sr. He was successful in his de- fi'gns : Matilda was oblig'd to quit England onc^;^ more, arid Stephen was take-n from chains, and once more placed upon the throne. Again put in posscs-sloii of this uneasy sea'!, !se ' s-temed (>nly exalted to give new instances of his ■ refi’si'ig the exorbitant demands of the barons .and f tc clergy. I-le endeavoured to get tKccrow'u • t(5’dev' Ive upon his son ; but this waA not com- piled with by the bifl'iops. it is s:?id, though U ' has scarcely the appefirancc of truth, that he con-, fined them in one houee, and there threatened to detain them, till they complied with his vnlU ■ This was an extraoiditiru-y method of obra.ini ig . their consent, and seems inconsistei'.t with his usual wisdom; his precautions, accordingf) proved unsuccessful, and the archbishop found means to escape his guards, and iiy into Mor~ rnandy, in order to bring over a new king, and ■ to raise a new insurrectioa, ■ In conseriuence of this bishop’s inirigues, ■ Henry, son to the empress Matilda, and who had been long ackiiowlcdg_ed for duke ol N-ormandy, soon landed with a formidable army. The ba- rons ever restless and regardless of their obliga- tion, were again divided upon this occasion, and ’• a terrible civil war ilireaiened' the kingdom afresh, when happily for the people, a truce was, {.•roposed between the opposite powers: this paved the way to a more ■ Listino peace. It was. agreed, that Stephen should enjoy tire cr<'Avn ol Euglanu during his life, and that Henry should he ack nowledged as his sacces.-or. In tiiis man- ner a civil war was teruiinated, which had ior some years laid lingland in blood. The nation once Uiore began to respire from iheii ca'ajiU' ies. AN HISTORy Off INCLAN®. and Stephen’s death soon put his rival in posses- tdon of a crown, which, to the former, had af- forded only disappointment, fatigue, and danger* LETTER XII. W, E have hitherto seen the barons and clergy become powerful in proportion to the weakness of the monarch’s title to the crown, and enrich- ing themselves with the spoils of depressed ma- jefty. Henry Plantagenet had now every right, both from hereditary succession and universal assent, that could fix a monarch on his throne : conscious therefore of his strength, he began to ^ resume those privileges which had been ' - ‘ extorted from his predecessor’s weak- I TOO. ness. He first commenced by demolishing those cas- tles which the barons and clergy built, and which only served as sanctuaries to guilt, treason, and debauchery ; he dismissed the foreign troops which had been mercenaries to his predecessor, and perceiving the poverty of the crown, resumed all those lands winch properly belonged to it ; he enacted some laws, by which the people, in some measure, became independent of their ba- rons, by .whom they w'ere claimed as appurte- nances to their estates and manors. He gave charters to several towns, by which the citizens claimed their freedom and privileges, independent of any superior but himself. These charters may properly be called the ground- work of English liberty, The struggles hereto- fore W'ere, whether a monarchy, or an aristocra- cy, should prevail; whether the king, or the nobility, only ; but by this gi anf, the lowest or- ders ol the people began to have a just value for themselves. IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. Si themselves, and to claim the prerogatives ol hu- manity. Thus was the feudal government first impaired : liberty began to be diffused more equally upon every rank of people, and the kings became capable of levying armies independent of their vassals. But, though he in some measure, diminished the pov/er of the barons, by enlarging that of the people, yet still there was a third power, namely the clergy, which daily grew stronger,, and unit- ed by one bond, pursuing the same design, were making large strides to independence. He un- dertook to humble them also. He perceived the clergy were resolved, not only to be exempt from the usual taxes of the state, but even its punishments. They had extorted an immunity from all but ecclesiastical censures in the preced- ing reign, and continued to rnaiatain that grant In the present. It may easily be supposed, that a law, which thus screened their guilt, served but to increase it ; accordingly, more than a hun- dred murders, upon proof, were committed by the clergy, of w hich not one w'as punished, even with degradation. Wiiat is snll more astonish- ing, the bishops gloried in tiieiv horrid indul- gence. Among the number ol murderers who’ were pardoned, w'as a clergyman, of the diocese of Sarum. The complaiat was brought before the archbishop’s court, and the circumstances of his guilt appeared most atrocious'. However, the only punislnnent decreed was, that the murderer should be deprived ot his benefice, and confined to a monastery. ‘ The king, struck wirh horror at such injustice, reproached the archbishop,, who, on the other hand, asserted, that .an eccle- siastic could not be punished with death, and thar the AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND. S'A the k'mghad no right to intermeddle in the affairs of the church. This archbishop was the noted Thomas a Becket who had been advanced by the king to this high station from the meanefl obscurity. He was a man of strong passions* great pride and great zeal, which had Been in the early pan of his hie smothered in deep dissi- mulation and apparent humility. He was, at tJiis tisne, possessed at once of the chancellor- ship, of the atchbishcprick of Canterbury, and was legate to the holy see. These were great trusts : but yi hat rendered him still more pow’er- ful, he either thought himself a saint, or affected to be thought so; he wmre sack-cloth next his skin, and his equipage and diet were niean and simple. So much power, pride, and seeming liumiiily, united, were formidable ; and stidx Henry found them. The king proposed, in a council of the nobles, that the bi':fiop5 s'louhi not be permitted to go to Tvorne ; tiiat no subject sliould appeal to the holy see; that no officer of the crovr ir should be ex- communicated, or suspended, without the Sove- r igiik pe r mission ; a nd laffly , ( which was the grea t artie'e he aimed at them) that the clergy should fie subject to the te|nporal judges, as well as the rest of liis subjects. Such just propositions were ;:gi’eed to by all pTesen-r, even Becket hesitated not to sign his' name. They were refeired next to tiie Pope for his approbation: the pope dis- approved eff then) all. Upon this, therefore, Becker declared his repentance, for having com- plied w ith the king in signing the constitutioxrs of ( Jarencion, as they Were called ; and, in order t ) carry on the farce, suspended himself, as un- ■vv’orthy to perform his functions till the pope should be pleased to absolve him. This IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. ^ . 83 This pardon he quickly obtained, and now he set no bounds to his obstinacy and ambition. Some historians describe Becket as a saint, and some as a designing hypocrite ; neither- are, pro- bly, just in their opinions. J-Je pursued vritluin- flexibiiity, yhat was in fact wrong, but what eciuc 3 ti'''ri and the manners of the times, had taught him to believe was right: his errors were rather of judgment than of V'ilk 'The king was resolved to humble -a man who had, by his authority, been lifted into power, and accused him of embezzling the public mo- ney, while chancellor. Wliile the ‘ judges were consulting,. Bccket insolently entered the coun- cil, with a crosier in his hand, to intimidate his judges; hut . notwithstanding this boldness, he was condemned as a traitor, although tie found means of avoiding punishment by escaping into Flanders. ■ The popes had long been growing formidable to the kings of England. Alexander III. im- mediately espoused Becket's quarrel, and brought the king to consent to a conlerence, which came to notiiing : another succeeded, but with 25 little success ; a third was proposed and ac- cepted. The king, wearied out with the re- peated tnreats of the pope, and the excommu- nications of his clergy, consented to almost every l.hing the haughty prelate demanded. But when ail the articles were settled, and Becket was to give the king the kiss of peace ; he took it into his' head to say, that it was for Geid’s hono^ir : the king insisted that this ex- pression should be retracted : Bccket insisted upon using it : this renewed the debate, and the ^4 an history of ENGLAND, the conference enJed once ended without effect. At length, however, after an interval of some years, they were reconciled, and the archbishop made his entry into London, amidst the accla- mations of the populace. His pride w'as now increased by success, and he went from town to town, in a sort of triumphal cavalcade. But he was scarcely reinstated in his power, when he began to exert it to the utmost extent : he so- lemnly excoirimunicated two lords wLo had op- po ed him, and published the pope’s letters fcr the suspension ©1 several bishops who had' shewn themselves his enemies. The king, W'ho- was in LlormaHrly, soon received information of this prelate’s pride and popularity, and soon- alter, the suspencitd bishops came over,, to lay their Gcmr plaint.^ before him p throwing them- selves at his feet, they implored his protectiorr,. and irtveiglied against their oppressor. Henry W'as now auite exasperated by their complaints : and continually uneasy from tiie repeated in- stances of Becket’s insolence, w as heard to say,.. 7 j thtps^ iwtie tB rtvmgt i htvr rnonarcK s cause uf on, this auaaihus priest ^ '1 irese words seemed to arm the most 'resolute of his attendants; and lour knights, whose, names w'ero Hugh Norvil,. ’W illiam Tr;.ey, Hugh Brito, and Richard Fitar- urse, bastet.ed to Gr nterbury, and entering the cathedral, where Becket was officiating, with few attendants, they beat out his brains, wilb clubs, at the loot of the altar. Hjs death confirmed those privileges t© the clergy which his opposition could not do. His- jesoluilon, during his life, and his resignation, ^heu dying, gained the hearts cf the people. Hs IN A SERTES OF LETTERS. He was looked upon ?.s a martyr, and the clergy took care to confirm his sanctity by miracles. When the people are resolved to- see miracles,, they are seldom disappointed : it was not suffi- eient that his shiine had a poweh: of restoring dead men to liie ; it restored also cows, dog?,, and horses. It was reported, and beli-eved,. that he cose from his cc:ffin befoie he was bu- ried, to light the tapers designed for his fune^ ral ; and, when the funeral ceremony was over, that he stretched forth his. hand to bless the people. Tims Becket became a saint, and Bienry was suspected of being tire author of his assas- sination. In order to divert the attention of tlie public from susjpicions of this nature, Henry under- - took the conquest of Ireland; a project Jormed some years before, but deicrred on account of his long protracted quarrel. The more readily to gain the pope’s approbation of his undertak- ing, (for nothing could then he atchieved M'lth- out the sanction of Rome,) he cleared himself by oath, of being any way privy to the a.'^sassi- nation, and made a solemn vow to go to Becket’s tomb, there to receive the discipline of the church. Thus furnished with Pope Adrian’s bull,, wdiich granted to him a kingdom which was not his to give, he subdued Ireland with a ra- pidity equal to his most sanguine hopes : but it was no hard matter to conquer a country which was at that time barbarous and divided under different chiefs, and each pmsuing drf- feient views and different interests. But the happiness this monarch received from- this accession of power, w'as soon allayed by a conspiracy in his own family. Among the few vices 86 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, vices this mpna.ch, unlimited gallantry was one. H,s queen wes disagreeable, and he v. as failldess ; but though an admirer of af the sex, he singled out, with: particular allection, Ro- sainond Cl fford, a lady of matchless beauty. Historian s and poets talk of the fair Rosamond in tiie warmest strains of rapture, if what they s ty be true, never did England produce so much beauty united with so nn cli grace before. He kept her concealed in a labyrinth at Woodstock Paris, and, in her company, passed his hours of vacancy and fdeasure. ihat the epueen at length came to a knowledge of his amour, and, pur- suing her- happy rival to her retreat, guided, say some, by a clue of silk, Ore obliged her to take poison. As this was an offence which the queen could not be iorgiveiJ, she was resolved not to forgive. Her sons were soon brought to slrare her resent- ments, and a con'-piiacy waas formed, abetted by all the malecontents of the kingdom. -To this unnatural combination, Henry opposed his usual prudence and res(/lution ; he seemed on. every side assaulted, but every where came oif victorious. ' Ascribing, however, the opposi- tion ol his own children to tlie indignation of offended heaven, he was resolved, by an exem- plary penance, to conciliate its favour. How was the time in which the clergy were to come off victorious; this was the season in wRich they were to reap the labours of their martyred defender ; and by one ^v•eak action the king was now to cancel that firmness, which a great part of his life had been employed in bringing to ripeness. Being come within sight of Canterbury, he walked barefoot to Becket’s tomo, m extreme p;,in ; there he was scourged by the monks, afid spent the whole night upon the 0 IN A SERI ES OF XE TTER3.' S 7 the pavement. The monks were thus reinstated again in all tltcir claims, and the people involved in greater surrcrstition than before. This penance, however, no way served to re- concile him to his family; lie even cursed their insratitude, and wearied with domestic coti- tendon, res'ilvecl at last to undertake a crusade. J-]is son Richard, ho'.\ever, stil! pursuing the dicrarcs of ambition rather than ol nature, de- prived hitn of all power to put this design into execution. Passion and disappointment, there- f'.re, began to make visible depredations on has constitution, and mark non for the grave: he Ikli sick at Chinon, in Normandy, and, finding his end approach, he caused himself to be tarried into the church, before the altar, where he expired with scarce a single attendant to deplore his fall. LETTER XIII. HEN I compare the English, at this period, with the neighbouring nations, I can’t Vi V Oid remarking in them a peculiar degree of courage, generosity and politeness. They had during the Saxon kings, sunk into bigotry and" effeminacy ; but a mixture of the Norman fierceness improved, tlieir characters, and -ren- dered them at once valiant and merciful. You have seen Irlenry, as well as all his Nor- man piedecessors, improve those good qualities in his subjects not less by influence than exam- ple. Y^ou have seen him attempting to increase the freedom of the people.by corporation char^ ters, and to diminish the pow'er of the barons t)y weakening the feudal government, by which the 83 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, the peasants and husbandmen were slaves. In these designs he succeeded ; but he faded in his endeavours of lessening the power of the clergy. The kingdom at his dei.easc, therefore assumed a dilierent appearance from what it wore before his accession. The people now began to have some, though but a smaii share of power ; the barons had still vast authority, though less than formerly; while the clergy might be considered as a body entirely distinct Irom the rest of the community, governed by their own laws, and professing subjection only to the pope. In tiiis situation were ailaiis, when Richard, , - the son oi Henry, came by suc- M. D. l\^Q. ■ . .u ^ ^ cession to the government, in which his reign made no- material alteration. The priests being the most powerful body of men, it is not suiprising to find the king second- ing their schemes, which perhaps he found im^* possible to oppose. Religion was then the pre- text for every sinister action, obedience to the church the only rule of merit; and to oppose the enemies of Christianity was- preached up as an antidote for every former transgression. The kinpfdom of Palestine had been for some time O the theatre of war and had drained Europe of its most chosen tioups, which fell like leaves in autumn, either by pestilence, famine, or the sword. In this quairet the clergy found means to embark the king, by awakening his ambition, and strengthening his natural superstition. A romantic desire for strange adventures and an immoderate zeal for the external parts of Christianity, were the ruling passions of the times, and they easily became the ruling passions of Richard. Impressed IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. S9 Impressed with a desire of rescuing the Holy Land from the infidels, he left England, and ■with a numerous army passed through France, took. Cyprus from a Christian prince, landed in Palestine, overcame Saladine wdth a slaughter of 'forty thousand Saracens, took several cities from the infidels, and gained much reputation for conduct and personal bra'^'ery; yet, after all, he acquired no real advantage for himself, or, the cause in which he was engaged Flaving concluded a truce for three years with Saladine, he set sail on his leturn ; but his ships being dis- persed by a tempest, he was obliged to land upon the coasts of Italy, where pursuing his W’ay homeward by land, he was arrested by the duke of Austria, and put in the power of the emperor, who cruelly and ungenerously detained him' a prisoner, upon the slightest and most trivial pretences. In the mean time England had been left under the government of two prelates, the bishop of Hu rhan), and Longchamp, bishop of Ely. The clergy, sole possessors and rulers of the king- dom, might have given what laws they thought proper: but there is a fatality in the ailairs of men, that, wEen tliey are destitute of foreign enemies, thev generally make foes of each other. The governors, now without rivals in the tem- poral interest, disagreed among themselves, and thus w’eakened the power of the clergy. John, brother to Richard, who long bad aspired to the crown, fomented tliis jealousy among the clergy, and putting himaelf'at the bead of the temporal lords, increased their authority by the addition of his own. Fie heard of the impri- sonment of' his biother w^ith secret satisfaction, and u-cdali his iaieresc to continue his captivity. The 90 A K HISTORY oy EKGT^ANa?, The Englishj notwithstajiclinff these ungetie" rouE efforts, contiaueci faithful to rheii king; his bravery and generc-lfy-hacl secured tfit hearts oi the people, anp the cause he foopht for en- gaged the affection of the clerpe . Ibbe monas- teries, tlicrefore,‘srr3incd their finances fo raise n sum to procure his rejsase, arid the churches gave Dp their treasures upon presniss of having tlicm re$i .'ed upon itb u’turn. By 'U3e<-.e efk forts Richard ar length procured his liberty: tire emperor, either arharoed of his own base- ness, or fearing the resentment of the German prince?, agreed upon his release for a large ransom, and England once more saw’ her brave monarch return, crowned with conquest after numberless victories, distresses, and surmounted dangers. The generosity of this prince was equal to- his valour: he knew that his brother John had in his absence, attempted to supplant him in the throne ; he load an exact information of all His intrigues with the French, who had long endeavoured to b’ast his laurels and interrupt his conquests : yet upon jr-hn’s submission, he generously forgave them ali ; i zmA, cried he, taking his brother by tiie hand, I mish I ccuJd as easily forgit your (yffinces, as ycu zvill wy pardon. 'Ibis condercension was not lost upon a man whose heart though naturally bad, was not dead to ali the ‘•entircents of humanity. Fiorn this ss'veci him wii'i iidelity, and did inm nc bit: viv: s in his batiks with the Fiench, winc ' 'oI .w-’d s ,on atier. 1 icf 't. vvrs engaged upon the conti- nent in a l renin war, an insurrection was sup- pvessec' a: loriC.c-^ whicii though but slightly B.eiitioned by historians, should be particularly maiked IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. gl marked by such as would trace the consihution. Wiliiarn Fitzosborn, commonly called Lcnr;:- beard, is reprcisenied a? once as a man brave and enterprising. He had long been an advocate for the poor and meanest of the people, and had gained, the hearts of the populace, who held, him in extreme vencratitm. Upon inflicring 3 new tax, the burden of wo'ch was to ,hdl e«" lirtdy on the poor, be' raised an in^un'ec:!©.?! of the people, which the srebbishop was, at hrst, utiable to 8ppe3«iS> 'Fhe principal citizens iielng called, upon this occasion, to arms, Longbeard was at length hard pressed, and obliged to take refuge in one of the churches; but no satictu- ary could screen this self-delegated champion ; he was seized, convicted, and with nine of his accomplices, hanged in chains. This was the first instance of the people’s struggling for pri- vileges as a body distinct from the barons and clerg}c Lbngbeard may be considered as the first victim to that ,untameahle spirit, which ever since has actuated tins pec'ple in support of its- privileges, and prompted them to the rights of huradnity. Upon a review of trie rest of his teign, we find the roonaich almost,, always in the field, or intent upon schemes to sup.ply’his warlike expe- ditions. .If, indeea, it were fust to asenbe his misf jf tunes to his incensed father’s raakdiction,. we, might be apt to suspect it, in some measure, as the cause. However, niter a reign of ten years tims passed in turbulence and fruitless vic- tory, he died of a' wound received from an arrow at the siege of Chaluz. ¥/hile he was yet alive, tile soldier by whose hand he died, v.ms brought beiore fimi : the king sternly demanded tfie rea- son why he sought ihs file ? Afj father and my brothers AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 92 hrotherij replied the undaunted soldier, died ly your handj heaven has given me the opportunity of a ju%t and glorious revenge. The dying mo- narch, no ways exasperated at this reply, ob- served, that the centinel had done his duty, ordered liim a present, and forgave him. But the Flemish general, who commanded under Richard, was unaccju minted w’ith such genero- sity : instead of comprying w'ith the king, he seized the miserable wretch, and, after Richard’s death, commanded him in his presence to be Read alive. The principal actions of this prince, were generous and brave. I know’- not what pleasure Rapin, that so frequently injudicious historian, can take in lessening the virtues of the race of Norman monarchs. Among other faults ascribed to Richard, he accuses him of pride ; yet it appears he bore the admonition of his inleriors with gentleness and good humour. The easiness of his disposition, as well as the delicacy of his wit, are apparent from the quickness/ of his re- plies. It is said that, being one day admonished, by an obscure monk, to part with his three daughters, by which he* meant his pride, his lust, and his avprice ; he wittily made answ^er, that he desired nothing more, and had already- pitched upon proper husbands for their disposal; he resolved to give his pride to the Templars, his avarice to the Monks, and as for his lust, the Clergy should stiare that among them. Such iiis )lent advice, from a churchman, at this day would be attended with a very diiferent reply. LETTER IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 93 LETTER XIV. A he wars that were now kindled up between England and France, continued ^ ^ to depopulate both countries, ' *1199* without making, in the end, any material alte- ration. John, the brother and successor of R’chard, pursued them with unabating vigour. We may regard these, and such like commo- tions, among Christian princes, as pestilences, which lay whole provinces waste, vsdthout mak- ing a change in their limits, their manners or government. John, who was surnamed Lackland, was, in fact, possessed of the most extensive dominion of any prince in Europe. Besides the lands lel’t him by succession, he had wrested Bretagne from Arthur, his nephew”, whose right it w'as. However, John, by thus pretending to what was not justly his, in the end lost even wEat he had. Flaving made liimself master of Bretagne, tEe unfortunate Arthur also fell into Eis power. He caused him to be confined in a tower, and what became of him was never after explained to the public satisfaction. John w^as suspected, and not without reason, oi the death of his nephew. He made some elforts to wipe off the odious stain, yet without effect. Hap^dly for the in- struction of future princes, this crime only, opened a way to his future ruin; and having- begun his reign by being the enemy of mankind in prosperity, the whole world, in the end, seem- ed to turn th^ir back upon him in his distress. The power of tke nobility of France was now exerted, w^ith justice, against him : those assem- blies of noblemen, each of which was, at that time, the petty lawless tyrant of his dependents, in AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND. in this instance, at least, undertook to punish the guilty. Constance, the unfortunate mother ol the murdered prince, flew for protection to the p.cr3, and implored redress. The king of England was suirnnoned to appv^av ; he refused, and the peers of'France confiscated all the lands and possessions which were held under that crown. Tnis confiscation was soon attended with vigorous eiTorts to put it into execution. John, at once both weak and cowardly, a ty- rant when unopposed, but timorous when in danger, sufFereel himself tamely to he stripped, of them all. He succcseively lost Normandy, Touraine, and Poictou ; and then fled back to England, to make himseif liateJ and despised. Hitherto, however, he was only contempti- ble to h;s neighbour princes j he still had some expectations from tire esterni and affection of his natural subj: cts : but ne soon shewed, that all his skill was only to make himself enemies, that he wanteri abilities to reconcile. The cler- gy had, for some time, acted as a separate body, anddvad their elections of each other generally confi..ncd oy the pope. Tire election of Arch- bishops had for some time, been a continual su'.-' ct oi dispute between the suffragan bishops and the Augm tine rncmks, and both had prece- dents to coufi.m their pretensions. Things being in tlnss"' nation, the archbishop ol Can- terbury JiappeaeJ to die, and the Augustine momrs, in a private njanner, made clioice of Tegmald their sub- prior. The bishops exclaim- ed at this as invading their .privileges, and here was likely no hegiu a theological contest. A politic prince w'ould have managed the quar- rel in such a manner, as to let the body of the clergy thus grow weaker by division: but John was not a politic, prince: he immediately s.ded with IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 95 with the suffragan bisiiops, and the bishop of Norwich was unanimously chosen. To decide these differences, an appeal was made to the pope. Innocent III. who then filled the chair, possessed an unbounded share of powei', and his talents were equal to the veneration he was held in: he vacated both clains, and enjoined the monks to choose Stephen Langton, an English- man then at the court of Rosne. Jolin knew how to oppose, tliough not to negociate ,; he re- ceived the pope’s decree with a degree ol ungo- vertied fury, and returned the pope a letter filled with abuse. Innocer+t, in return, put the whole kingdom of England . under an interefict, and forbade the king’s subjects longer to obey him. These ecclesiastical thunders were, at that time, truly formidable: and the more so, as the exe- cution of them was committed to ii’hi’p Augus- tus, king oi France, an ambitious and a politic prince. To him the pope gave the .daiodom of England, as a perpetual ioheritarce, ttwudng him of a remission of all liis sins, if ne hapuf-tied to succeed n conquering it. Fie gra.nied ail who embaiked in this cause also the sanae indulgences as were usually given to sucri as wa-nt upon a crusade. Philip immediately embraced the offer; not content with depriving John of his conti- nental dominions, he devoured, in m.n, the kingdom of England also. By hi* i^repa- rations it was evident how desirous he wa? to succeed in this undertaking; the ships, of which, his fleet was to consist, came togeiher to the mouth of the Seine, whilst tiie princes, his vas- sals, collected their forces to the shore from all parts of the country. His army wms nuriierous, and the discontents of the English were equiva- lent to thousands more. Philip wms ready, therefore^ 96 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, therefore, to set sail, and John, on his part, made an e^cpiring effort to receive him. Ail- hated as he was, the natural enmity between the French and the English, the name ol a king, and some remaining share of power, put nim at the head of an army of sixty thousand men, with which he advanced to Dover. Europe regarded such important preparations with impatience, and the decisive blow was soon expected. The pope was too refined a politician for both, and took upon himself what he pre- tended to have designed for Philip. This sin- gular negociation was executed by Pandulpb, as the pope’s legate to France and England- He passed through France, wiiere he beheld Philip’s great armament, and highly commended his zeal and diligence ; from thence he went over to Do- ver, under pretence ol negociaring with the ba- rons in favour of the French king, and had a conference with John upon his arrival. Ele there represented the number of the enemy, the hatred of many of his owm subjects; he intimated, that there w^as but one way to secure himself Irom impending danger, which was to pat himsell un- der the pope’s protection, who, as a kind and merciful lather, was still willing to receive him to his bosom. John was too much intimidated by the appa- rent danger not to embrace every means of of- fered safety. He consented to the legate’s re- monstrances, and took an oath to perform what the pope should iinpose. Flaving thus sworn to perform he knew not w’hat, the artful Italian so well managed the barons, and intimidated the king, that he took the following extraordinary oath, before all the people, kneeling upon his knees, and putting his hands between thpse oF the legate ; I John^ IK A SERIES OF LITTERS. I John, by the grace of God, king of Eng- land and lord of Ireland, in order to expiate my sins, from my ©wn free will, and the ad- “ vice of my barons, gi ve to the church of Rome, to Pope Innocent, and his successors, the king- “ dOm of England, and all other prerogatives of ** my crown ; I will hereafter hold them as the ** f)ope’s vassal. I will be faithful to God* to the “ church of Rome, and to the pope my master, and his successors legitimately elected. I pro- “ mise to pay him a tribute of.a thousand marks yearly, to wit, seven hundred for the king- dom of England, and three hundred for Ire- land-” By this mean concession, John ^secured his '^crowm from a foreign invasion, but became ef- fectually cotitcmptiole' in the eyes of his people : •"ftill, however, he w^as not hated -by his subjects.,^ their hatred only was wanting to sink him into ■complete wretciiedness. After being exposed to so many disgraceful .humiliation’, he now thought, at the expence of his honour., to spend' the- remaning years of hi;- life in tranquillity ; but, in proportion as he lost the esteem of the English, be lost their. afl'ections also, f'he for- mer monarchs supported their power by a nice opposition of the clergy and the barons : when •they ante ndetl to humble the nobiliiy, they grant- ed new privileges to the church ; wiien they de- sired to lessen the power of the clergy, they gave ^greater force to the temporal interests. John was ignorant of the manner of conducting this opposition: he had oflended the.clergy, and in- creased their pswer, witiiout making them his friends ; hv: had it only left now to offend his barons, t' ’'ender himself obnoxious to every ■oraer of people. Hb former pusillanimity soon ¥aL. 1. E ^ave $8 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, gave this powerful body hopes of expecting a renew^al of those powers of which thej^ had been deprived in the preceding reign ; they demanded therefore, the re-er-tablishment of their ancient privileges, and John believed himself authorifed to refuse them. This created rtsw di^sencions ; the king, with c. strang-: server eness, in turn demanded their a slstai^o.? for the recovery of his lost dominions on -the con tinent, and they re- fused to follow him. Their refusal rvas soon followed by more open act* of hostility: they formed a confederacy, and, ?t an appointed meeting, forced the king to grant all their de- mands, and sign that charter by which the English are said to hold their .liberties at this day. The baroi- ' and the clergy, by thh time, -i:eemed the only governors of theiringdocn : the common- ality had no share in the legislature they were passed aw'ay, with the lands on which they were born, by their haughty possessors; they ,vere Teckoned only as the sheep, oxen, and other moveable possessions, which were upon the es- tate : the guCidian of an heir was tp pretierve the ■ lands entire, and to use the words of Magna Ciiarta, sine desirnct'wne ei vasto honinum vel rerum^ without destruction or wacte of the men or things upon it. The ki^gj the barons, and the clergy, v/ere all in reality, enemies to public liberty : their parties were so miny factions in the nation, subversive of the rights of mankind-. How they in turn, lielpisd to establish liberty, you shall see in my future correspondence. This charter was, in fact, giving the barons a definitive judgment upon whatsoever they thought proper to represent as a grievance: they ^ they were to prefer their complaints to the king, •and he was, in forty days, to give them satis- faction, or they were legally impowered to com- mand it. This was an infringement of the pre- rogative, which he complied wdth through fear, and, as soon as he was at liberty, he retracted .all he had agreed to ; he loudly complained of the force with which it was exacted, and he de- manded justice from the pope his new master. The pope, who had lately excommunicated the king, new excommunicated the barons: the barons exasperated, did exactly vt'har tire pope had formerly done upon a like occasion. ; they offered the crown of England to France. Philip, everready to profit by these commotions, accepted their offer with joy ; but, fearing the pope’s dis- pleasure, if be assumed a . title to what was now ^considered as a patrimony oi tire holy see, lies prevailed upon the barons to elect his son Lewis., To this league of the barons with France, the: city of London lent their assistance. W’e should be careful to observe every beginning of power among the commons of .England, and this seems ito be one of -the most obvious instances. This noble city was the first that freed itself from feudal government, and ventuied to follow lea* ders ot its own appointment ,; in sfiortit may, at this period, be looked upon as a little republic, fighting between the powers of aristocracy, re- ;presented in the barons^ .and cf despotism, as- sumed by the king. In th-e mean time the army of Lewis, which. Was called over to the assistance of the barons, committed strange disorders : while on the other hand, the army of John, which like the former, was mostly composed of foreigners, was still more insolent and audacious. Never was Eng- E 2 , land JO© HISTORY OF ENC'LANI>, land In a more deplorable condition : she had two armies of hungry foreigners in her bowels, ravaging the country in a merciless manner and threatening ruin, whichsoever proved victorious. John w as, at length, deposed by his barons, -and Le was solemnly crowned at London. The new monarch then first thought ol having the pope’s sanction to his claim. The pope debated in council the justice of a cause which scarcely de- served a moment’s hesitation ] while John led his harrassed army from city tocity, distrusting even his most faithful adherents. Pity then procured friends which prosperity could not procure; and now the barons were struck with some remorse to see their native country, by their procure- ment, thus laid desolate, and their king a W'unr derer; bu-t what added to their afflictions, vras, that their services were hitherto . slightly re- paid by the new-crow’ned monarch, and Irom a know'ledge of his disposition, they could hope for no increase of future favours. It was even repf>rted among them, that his intentions w^ere to banish. them for their disloyalty to their former' sovereign, though exerted in his own favour. Wjiatever their motives might be, forty barons addressed letters of submissive suit to king John^ the pope also held the justness of his claim in suspense ; a gleam of distant prosperity seemed lo brighten his affairs; but, while the conjunc- ture seemed big with new events, the death of both the pope and of Jolm decided the contest. ’I'his monarch died in the fifty-first year of his age, after a reign of .more than seventeen years, spent in wars without success, and exertions of power without increase of authority. LETTER lOJ \ m A SEJTIES OF letters. LETTER XV. Lewis, who was crowned king, dis« sembled till possessed of uncontrouled power, he might have retained the crown; kut the barons wanted a monarch subservient to their power, and Lewis refused a kingdom on such conditions. They now, therefore, turned from the French intruder to the young monarch, from whom they^ expected greater condescension . Henry III. appointed successor to the crown, by John his father, was but ten ^ years of age, when made king, ■ . . and the earl of Pembroke was, by mutual con- sent, constituted his guardian. The inconstancy of the English was now^ more than ever apparent: Lewis was, in some measure, iorsaken by his new subjects, and after a defeat, obliged to re- linquish all pretentions to the kingdom. What the barons, however had hoped from the king’s tender age, did not answer their expectations. The earl of Pembroke, who governed his non- age,- made a powerful interest with the clergy, and, by their means, served to balance the state. While Henry acted under tlie. direction of other,-^, the - power of the barons seemed to iiave been kept under c; he had the clergy for him, and consequently the people, and these two were equivalent to all the nobility. But, as soon as ll.uirv came to take the reins into his own hands, numbevless insurrections and cala- mities were the result of his obitinacy, folly, and vice. Infinite were the struggles for power between the barons and the -king. Henry’s Inx- ur.y AN HISTORT OF ENCLAN®. 202 ury and profuf.eness continually rendered him'S- petitioner to the assembly oi barons for moneyj^ (for now the kings began to ask money instead of men ) and they as constantly demanded a con- firmation; of those privileges which had been granted them under the reign of his predecessor. Tn order to render himself independent of them, he found a thousand ridiculous pretences for raising m^iey without their assistance. He would invite himself to the bouses of his subjects, and always expected a present at the door ; he extorted from the Jews, wdierever he found them without any remorse ; he even scrupled not to defraud minors of their lawful inheiltances, to which he had been left protector : while the peo- ple had the mortification to see those sums la- vished upon undeserving favourites, foreigner without merit, strumpets, flatterers, and all the vermin of a vicious court. But all his exactions were not sufficient to sup- ply his prodigality; he still wanted money, he still was obliged to have re.course to his barons, and yet he still desired to be absolute the barons, on the contrary, who had-long aimed at inde- pendance, and who detested his cowardice and luxury, refused his request. Though no monarch was more timid in danger, more presuptuous in prosperity: he threatened them, for refusing, with his severe displeasure, and strengtliened himself by the assistance of the pope, in order to plunder the kingdom. Whilst the English were complaining of the avarice of their king, and his profusion to foreign favourites, the pope’s legate made his triumphal entry to rob them of what the king had not laid hands on. The interests of the clergy and of the pope were formerly one, but m A SERIES OF LETTERS. IO.J, they now began to flow in divided channels* The riches which some years before settled in their monasteries at home, were drained off to enrich a distant kingdom,, already too luxurious. The clergy, therefore,, justly dreaded the ar- rival of an extraordinary legate, whose only aims were directed by avarice and extortion. They expostulated, but in vain, to the king,, against this unnecessary ambassador from the head of the clvarch: the king hoped to reap some private advantage from his arrival, and he was but little concerned for public grievances. In every denand the king made for himself, the legate would take care to make one for the pope also : he eren proposed that the monks should flgn their names to note?, where a blank was left ' for the sum specified. The exactions, thus daily committed «non the churches, compelled the bishops to carry their complaints to the pope liimself but the king still vindicated the the le- gate’s conduct. At length, the prelates, quite tired with the repeated demands, of the legate, who daily had some new pretext for getting rnoriev, resolved to meet and consider of some remedy to prevent his rapacity. They accord- ingly nssembied, but had scarce begun to com- ■ plain to each other of the miseries they suffered, when tlie legate entered the assembly, with a de^. mand for more money; this they considered as an accumulation of impudence and extortion, and they gave him a blunt denial. The legate being disappointed, for this rime left the assembly, and -went to pillage the scotch clergy with better prospects of success. An accident happened about this time, which serves as a strong instance of the submission the people yielded to the power of Rome. Some business 3C4 AN HISTORY O? ENGLANB, business induced the legate to take Oxford in His- ■way: he was received with all the grandeur and magnificence, which, from his character, he had a right -to expect. As the luxury in which these Italian dignitaries lived, was great, several scho- lars of the university, while the legate’s diimec was preparing, entered the kitchen, incited- by motives of curiosity or hunger. While they here aiid there admired the opulence and luxury of all they saw, a poor Irish scholar ventured to beg relief from the cook : the cook,, instead of giving aa alms threw a ladle full of boiling water in ids face : an'aetion which so provoked a Welch student who was pre'^ent,, that, having a bow in his hand* he shot the cook dead with an arrow. Thii legate, hearing the tumult, re- tired in a fdght to the tov/er of the church*, ' where he remained till night- fall. As soon as he thought be might retire with cafety, hh hastened to the king, and complained of this outrage r the king, with his usual meanness, flew into a violent passion, and effitred to give immediate satisfaction, by putting the offenders, to death. The legate at first seemed to insist upon venge- ance, but at length was appeased by proper submission from the university : all the scholars of that scliool which had offended him, were ordered to be stripped of their gowns, and to walk barefoot, with halters about their necks, to. the legate’s house, and humbly crave pardon and. absolution. It would be no easy matter to bring the students of Oxford to such an humiliation, at’ present. In this manner this brutal and capritlous ty- rant went on, leagued with the pope against his. own dominions. He had now neither barons or clergy in his interest, and ow^ed all his supportto tlie auihority of the papal and royal names. Th®- IN A'S'tRlES OF LSrtERS. 10 ^ T?ie pOpe continued to make reiterated demands upon the clergy., and the king would beg Iroin lais subjects at their own houses, as it he had been asking charity At one time he would get money by pretending to take the cmsade ; at an- other he would prevail, by going to re conquer his dominions in Fi'^ance: again he would extort aid, under pretext of portioning a relation ; and hd would frequently assure his parliament of ba- rons, that, though he itad hitherto behaved un- wortfiily, yet, upon being supplied once more with propc-r assistance, lie would reform and give universal satisfactioti. Thus he drew' iorth various sums, whichywithout shame, he bestowed upon flatterers, panders to bis pleasures, or an anny of foreigners,^ whxh-he kept to intimidate h's native dominions. ■ At length, however, the parliament, fatigued w-ith his unperforming promises, resoived to re- fuse his demands for the 'future : they therefore entered into an association, and tire city of Lon- don was invited to accede. At tiie head of th;^ powenuf Combination was the earl of Leicester, ttfe king’s brother-in-law, who iiad risen into pow'er merely by his master’s profuseness The kfng, by a strange absurdiry nf thin'King,' as he became more feeble and unpop-ulav, increased his demands for fresh supplies. • He was v, orsted in France, ami obliged to purchase a shametuh truce: he was conquered by the Welsh, and be- came contemptible to Scotland : yet still he con- tinued to harrass his own subjects wuih his usual extortion, as if he designed to create in them that awe with which he failed to impress h so that " the Scots king soon perceived himself only pos- sessed of the name without the authority. Wil-'’ ling, therefore, to shake off 'so troublesome a ■ master, Baliol revolted, and procured the pope’s ? itbsolution for the infraction of his I’ormer oaths . of homage. Edward now offered the crown to ■ Bruce, who. accepted it with joy; and thus a ftrong party of the Scots was added in strength- ening the English king to subdue their native^ * country. Edward,., at the head of a numerous army, marched into the country : numberless were the victories gained on one side and the other, in which the coiiquerors acquired much, honour, but either country lost the bravest of its subjects. But. wars like these, though minutely related by every historra-u, are scar ce worth trea- suring in any memory, but that of an herald or antiquariaa. The whole may be comprised ia the:e- IN A SERIES OE LETTERS. 1 IJ' the following short description : one barbarottsr nation meets another in some plain, generally by mutual appointment ; little art,, evolution, eva- sion, or subterfuge, was practised or known ;■ they rushed upon each other, and numbers and tumult generally decided the victory The revo- lutions of the government, and not the descrip- tion of battles fought in these reigns, serve to adorn the page of history. At one season Scotland was brought to the lowest degree of humiiraiion, and Edward had laid a plan, which probably he ever had in view, of uniting it, as a conquest to the crown of Englr* h But his scheme proved abortive ; the time cl that king- doiii’s deliverance was at hand : theyfound safety in despair, and upon the kin^g’s return to Eng- land, they once more^ salli-'d down from their mountains upon the English army which he had left, and gained a complete victory. This vvas terrible news to Edward, who had al- ready built upon that kingdom zs his own. He- was now implacably exasperarted against the Scots, and resolved to take a signal vengeance i, to this ptupose, he summoned all the vassals cf the crown, without distinction, to be ready at »• time arrd place particularly appointed. His in- tention was, to fijarchinto the heart of the king- dom, and destroy it, to use his own expression, from sea to sea. lie soon saw himself at the head of the finest army England had ever produced: the Scots trembled at his approach, but death flopped the course of his i’ttendecl devastations. - As soon as he perceived that his disorder was to be fatal, he sent for the prince his:Son, w'hom he had appointed to succeed him, and taking him by the hand, earnestly recorntnended, with kis dying breath, three things : he first enjoined- 114 history of enclanf, him not to recall Gavestone a flatterer,, who he knew’ would poison his principles ; he next de- sired that his heart might be sent to the holy se- pulchre ; and, thirdly, he reconnmended him to^ prosecute the wrar with the Scots, till he had en- tirely subdued them, desiring his bones might be- carried about at the head of the army, the more effectually to strike terror into the enemy he had so often subdued. England b-egan to grow truly formidable under- this reign; the opposition of'the barons v^as but feeble and ill supported ; the monarch was, in some measure, absolute, though be waa prudent enough never to exert hispoweip. He h accused of severity, and it is probable ho might have ex- isted justice viih too heavy an I^and ^ yet it should be particularly remarked, t/vat he was the first w'ho began to dispense indiscriminate justice. Before him, ihe people who rose in insurrections were punished in the most severo manner, by the- sword -or the gibbet ;,, while the nobility, wha- were almost always refractory, > were treated with a degree of lenity which encouraged- future dis- obedience : a small fine, vrhieby ia fact, .only fell upon their poor dependents, generally wiped off their offences. Edward punished both with equal severity. However, let us here remark the alterations in the spirit of the times. The English, now in- corporated with their fierce Norman conquerors, were no longer the tame consenting people they formerly appeared, and alvrays w^ere prepared to reason with that authority which they could not- resist. With.ttiis spirit of opposition a spirit of , cruelty also seemed to enter; regardless of their, own lives, the people did not seem very solicitous about the lives ol others. The penal laws now began; IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. ”5 began to assume ;nore rigour: in the times of William the Conqueror, it was a law, that no^ man shouh' b. punished with death; but that law was at presciic quite laid aside, and several crimes- were rendered capital. But wh?' gave the reign of Edward a true value with ~:>scerity, was the degree of power the jpeopie begat', co asr.uinc during this period. The clergy and the oarons he considered,- in some measure, as rivals; and, to weaken their force,, he gave authority to the commons;, a law was enacted, by which no tax could be levied' with- out their consent. His intentions were to ren- der himself absolute by their assistance; and, it is but too probable, he raig|jt have, become so, had he lived to put his de.'-dgns in execution; but he died at a time he was beginning to throw off parliamentai'y restrictions, and left the people a share of authority, which .had been given them for very different purposes from the promotion of liberty. The most healing medicines are often extracted from poisons. In short, whatever Ed- ward’s chp.racter was as a man, as a king, he wa,s of infinite service to his country. LETTER XVII. It M’as long an opinion of the English, and grounded on observations made from the days of king Arthur, that between two valiant and able princes in this nadon, there always inter- vened a king of less senre and' courage, moin, suffisans de ^ens et de prouesse, Thai there was iftmething in the remark, you have hitherto seen in several successions... Nq / AN HISTORY OF ENGLANF^ No monarch could come to a crown with more ^ jy advantageous omens than Edward II. an army prepared for victory, a people united, and an undisputed succession. But he soon gave reasons to fear his future conduct, by the commencement of his reign. Regard less, of" his father’s dying admonitions, he discontinued the war with Scotland, and recalled Gavestone, , his favourite, from exile. Gavestone was a foreigner by birth, adorned? with every accomplishment of person and mind that could create affection, but destitute of those qualities of heart and understanding that serve to procure esteem. He was beautiful, witty, brave, but at the same time vicious, effeminate, and de- bauCihed : he had assisted in all Edward’s youth- ful extravagancies and pleasures; had been, ta^ use a Latin expression, his Arhiter eligantiarumi and thus ha.d secured this young voluptuous mo- narch’s affections. A prudent king may have private friends, but never should retain a public favourite; royal fa- vour should shine with indiscriminate lustre, and the monarch should ever guard against raising those he most loves to the highest preferments. , In being thus biassed, by- his affections, he will probably be induced to reward talents unequal to the burthen of affairs, or impatient of the fa- tigues- of- appli< ;atTon. >uch was the case of Edward,* vrith regard to his new favourite i he- loaded him with favours, at a time when he was giving up his title to the sovereignty of Scotland, . which had been so hardly earned by his prede- cessor. The barons, at this time, were not so entirely humbled, but that they resented a conduct so injurious to the interests of the kingdom as well aa^ IN -A S-ERIES OE LETTERS. as their own. Gavestone’s pride, his being a foreigner, his insolence, soon raised a strong parry against him: an army was formed to op- pose his administration ; Gavestone was taken, and beheaded without ewen the formality ot a trial. Titus you perceive a spirit of cruelty be- ginning to enter the nation. The death of Gave- stone was, probably, supported by precedents found in the former reign. The successors of Edward the First copied after him in his faults alone. The vices of -conquering monarchs and great kings are ever most dangerous, becau-se they most generally produce imitation. From this time the scaffolds were drenched with English blood; each party, as it happened to,prove victorious, brought their prisoners, as traitors, to the block or the gibbet : never was so much blood spilt in a juridical manner in Eng- land, as in this hideous reign. Tire Scots, dur- ing-ihese storms, endeavoured to fortify their go- vernment.: they conquered the English in more than one battle. Robert Bruce, being made king, trecame pow^erful from the divisions of the English, who pretended to be his masters. Edward in the mean time, seemed only intent on prosecuting hjs pleasures, or becoming formi- dable to his own subjett-s. The mutual hatred between him and the barons seemed daily to in- crease ; or., in other woids, as he still became more despicable in the eyes ol the people, the barons, lately depressed, grew into power. His su- pineness gave them an opportunity of executing all their designs, so that at last he suffered him.- self to be taken prisoner ; but he was soon after released, upon a promise of future amendment. A certain number of the barons were admitted into his council, and he gave his word to perform nothing irS AN HISTORY OP ENGLAND, not^iing '^^.holU their consent and approbation: but he was only bOrn For misfortune^. This monarch, of an easy nature, anu who probably, if born in a private st-ation, would have been considered as a worthy man, could not live with- out a favourite. Into the place w hich Gavcftone held in his affections, Hugh. Spencer, a youth of great address and many aecumplishments, Suc- ceeoed. This young gentleman, no way inti- midated by the misfortunes of Gavestone, in similar circumstances, pursued his conduct in every particular: he even went beyond him in pride, avarice, and prodigality. An universal ■discontent soon became visible; all the vices of the king were imputed to young Spencer alone, and his owm were enough to sink him into ruin. The barons, therefore once more combined to ■destroy this favourite, W'ho was, in reality, with- out a protector; they therefore banished him and his father out of the kingdom, w'ith great threats, it he ever attempted to return. This incignity to tlie king seemed to rouse him from his fomier lethargy: the queen also, a bold, haughty woman, endeavoured to stimulate him to revenge. She had received an affront on a pilgrimage to Canterbury, in being denied ad- mitianee, by the governor, into the castle of Leeds, on the way. She therefore persuaded her weak consort, that the prefent conjuncture was very Tavourriblc for freeing himself from the power of the barons, and that punishing the go- vernor of Leeds would intimkiate them so far as to prevent any future opposition. Her advice' w^as embraced with avidity the king raised an army without opposition ; he besieged the castle of Leeds ; the governor was taken, and the queen now had an opportunity of satiating her revenge by having him beheaded. Success .IN A SERIES LETT'^RS. Success o^i'y ^ee^'e ^ lo bis ,eak prince on to' new Violence , h. ,es -. -‘J ^ casties of several other barops, anc L- n-riier of them with equal ease. To c .■mpletp his contempt for all former c ^mpaers, he reca'l 'h his young fa- vourite, Spenc“0', once iXiore ' ■ on ban ishment. We may easily, upon . ms occasion, perc ive how maci. the baiv^ns vvere Jeclined irorn that degree of power they possessed rwo or three reigns be- fore. The iTiOcarcn, at present, Tat oppressed them, was voluptuous, ignorant, and a coward, in the general opinion of th.’ people ; yet, feeble as he was, the barons were scarce able to resist him ; the power of tfic people was now growm truly formidable, and Edward had address ertough. to procure a part of them to second his preten- sions. The king noyV, therefore, in the meridian of po'wer, prosecuted the most rigorous measures: the queen, cruel by nature, and Spencer his fa- vourite, actuated by revenge, stimuLited.him to numberless acts of severity. Among others who perished in the opposition, w^as Thomas, Eailof Lancaster. This nobleman had always been sig- nalized for his valour amuag the confederate lords, and was a peculiar opposer of the growing power of the family of the Spencers. He was taken fighting, at fdie Lead of a body of forcevS, which he had in "ain endesToured to rally. He had no p,riat to exyect any favour from ijudgas who wr e his c.uemies fi.o.m -personal mo- tives : he,vvac condemned to be quartered as a traitor ^'hut, from a regard to his 'Station, the king changed hii punishment to beheading. In this manner nine other lords were executed at York as a tenor to the kingdom ; but these ter- rors could not secure a monarch who was in him- »elf J20 AN" HISTORY OF ENGLAND, self contemptible. Whatever might have been the Earl of Lancaster’s real character, his death 'left it uncertain, whether he acted with views to get himself created king, or was only thecham-r pion of public liberty. However that be, the people in general had his memory in great vene- ration, and considered him as a martyr. We may by this see what side iin this quarrel was espoused by the clergy: immediately after the -earl’s death, miracles were said to be wrought at his top'b, and every pretended miracle of this kind Vas productiv-e of a thousand enemies to the king. The favourite Spencer and his father still gave an unbounded scope to their revenge : not con- tent with putting to death the heads of the oppo- site party, with depriving others of their estates, -and with condemning great numbers to perpetual banishment, thej were resolved to level thert rage agninst R-obert Mortimer, now actually in •their c todv and confined within the Tower- There veie fjw circumstances that dould appa- rendy creen him from their resenitnent: he had bee-:, openly in arms, and active in the opposi- ti-, ; he had no character to render his punish- mt nt unpopular, and none that he knew to in- tercede tor him with the king; yet he found Ins punishineiit remitted, to his astonishment, not- withstanding all the solicitations of his enemies to the contrary. The queen was fallen in love with this youth, and used all her interest to pro- cure hia pardon : an intim;tcy bad actually eorainenced between them.: and this protec- tion, witli which he was publicly honoured by her, drew down the resentnient of the two favourites. In this opposition of inte- rests^ IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. i-ir rests, Edward seemed entirely passive ; he wished to please both parties, and one day gave orders to screen young Mortimer Irom pursuit, and the next to secure him wherever he could be detected ; the feeble king knew not how to refuse any request, w'hen he loved those who made the demand. A dissension thus between two parties, who shared the alTections of the king, must soon ter- minate in the disniiseion ot either. To get the queen removed, the Spencers contrived to per- suade her to go upon a certain negociation to the court of her brother, the king of France. M'ith this proposal, though from her enemies, the queen readily complied; she ibresaw' it would* give her an uncoatrouled iilierty of enjoying the company of her gallant, and might give her power of being revetiged on kis oppressors. Phi- lip tlie Fair, who was at that time upon the throne of France, pursued the poiitics of every wise king: he encouraged the queen, his sister, to oppose Ed ward her husband; and thus, by dividing his enemies, he hoped to weaken them. Thus heartened, she loudly inveighed against the i’avourites of The king, levied troops in France to oppose their powder, and with this army landed in England, where her expectations were answered, in being joined by a powerful body of malecon- tents. Mortimer, her lover, was with her at the head of these troops, at the same time that ‘he favourite Spencer was the heart of the opposite party. Edward waslittle able to withstand his enemiesr all his endeavours to rai.se troops proved inelfec- tual : none would venture to expose themselv&s in the king’s defence, for they savv that an igm>- minious death must be the c.on‘e|uence cf a de- leatp and ingratitude of victory. The queen \ OL I. Q took 122 AN HISTORY OF ENGLANT>j took Spencer, the father, at Bristol. This gen- tleman, fourscore and ten years old., had passed a youth of tranquillity and reputation; he had been esteemed and loved by all the kingdom, but his fond compliance with his son’s ambition, in- Toived his old age in the turbulence of faction : he was immediately hanged up in his armour, without even the formality of a trial. His un- happy son did not long survive him ; he was taken. With a lew more, attending the king, their mas- ter, into an obscure convent in Wales. Revenge, and net justice prompted all the punishments of this reign. The queen had not patience to stay till the meetihg of a parliament to destroy her enemy; she ordered him to be produced before the insulting populace, enjoying heiself the plea- sure of seeing him led to the place of execution, where he w^as hanged on a gibbet fifty feet high. Several other lords shared his late, all deserving pity indeed, had they not formerly justified this inhumanity by setting a cruel example. The unhappy king now abandoned, saw him- self in the power of his enemies, without a sin- gle friend to stand between him and universal re- proacli ; he was conducted to the capital, amidst • the insults and reproaches of his subjects: con- fined in the tower, judged by the parliament, and solemnly deposed. He w’as assigned a penfion for his support, his son, a youth of fourteen, w^as crowned king, and the queen appointed regent during his minority. 1 he deposed monarch but a short time survived his misfortunes : he was sent from prison to pri- son, a wretched outcast, and the sport of his mer- cenary keepers: in these journeys they made him sciier all the indignities that cruel and ingenious villainy could devise: among others, it is said they IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. I2S they shaved him for sport 4n the open fields, using water from the neighbouring ditch. The genius of the people must surely have suffered a gradual deterioration, or they would never have permitted the venerable head of majesty, a mo> narch, whose greatest fault was the violence of his friendships, to be used with so much indignity. What firmness soever the deposed prince had hi- therto shewm in his misfortunes, it left him upon this occasion; he looked upon his merciless in- sulters with an air of fallen majesty, and shed a torrent of tears: the cruelty of his death alone was vranting to terminate a life of complete mi- -sery. The las); place of his imprisonment was Berkeley-castle : here he was kept totally desti- tute of all the comforts, and almost all the neces- saries of life. But these miseries were not long to continue.: the two keepers, entered his apart- ment one night as he lay in bed; to stifle his cries, covered his face with a pillow, and then with a cruelty not to be parijUelied, thrust a hol- low pipe up his body, through which they ran a red-hot iron, and burnt his bowels: his horrid shrieks, hosvever, were heard at a distance from the castle, and, though all possible care wms taken to conceal it, his murder vras soon after disco- vered by one of the accomplices. Misfortunes like his must ever create pity, and a punishment, ^o disproportionate to his guilt, in some measure •softens the severity of reproach. O $ LETTER •124 AN HISTORY OF ENGLANl):, LETTER XVIII. W E now begin to have some faint idea of the Origin of our present happy constitution ; and, as I am going to lead to a reign which gave new strength to the people, permit me to entertain you a moment with the spirit of think- ^ ^ ing in the nation, at the juncture Ic5 7* j speaking of. By the conti- nual admission of foreigners in several of the pieceding reigns, the number of the commons was surprisingiy incteased ; and the introduction of sorrie ne w manufactures, the making of wool- len cloths and glass, for instance, still decreased the retinue of the noble'S, and threw greater numbers oi the inhabitants into chartered tovrns. 7'he barons, however, still continued to reside at their casiles in the country, gave lavrs to the peasants around them, and exercised a despotic autxiority over all their dependents. The clergy had, for some titne, been at variance with the pope, and tJiis dissension contributed tostripthe mask or sanctity iiom both : the division of the ehui tii was a most certain means of rendering rt . - - • ^ contemptible, since all its strength lay only in the influence it had over ^he minds of its v otaries. But there W as another principle, which had been for some lime opeiaring, and which, in rim.e, proir.ised to be a certain means of diminishing tne power of the barons and thecierg^'; I mean a dinnnutum of 'personal service, in war. In former times, every vassal was to appear, at the command of his lord, with horse, attendants, and all tne a{;paratus necessary for a campaign. li the nobilily or vassals of the crown refused to march. m A SERIES OF LETTERS. I as march, the king was unable to compel them- In this mariner a combination of the nobility had it ever in their power to give laws to the crown, because they were not only the deliberating power, but the acting power also : but, from the increase of the people, from the more extensive' use of money instead of barter, and from the number of independent foreigners, ready to ac- cept pay; from these causes, 1 say, the kings began to levy armies without the assistance of the nobility. Moaarchs now only wanted money to be at the head of armies as numerous and power- ful as they thought proper : wherever- money was, there lay power : and the people, by traf- jfic a'nd industry, beginning to grow rich, they were necessarily admitted into some share in the legislature. Thus we see the nobility, the clergv, and the people, different Irom what they were two or three reigns before, this, and the strength of the king did not suffer a . less mutation. Former monarchs might be considered only as the fi rst and most pow’erlul barons oi the land : a ' baron was in miniature, what the king was in the • great. The monarch had scarcely any real power but what he derived from his own crown-iaiids and vassals: v/hen he was resolved to exert his strength, he could only command his own te- nants, and those who held imsnediately under him; the barons were summoned inde.ed ; but, if they were displeased they might refuse their assistance, and all their dependents were ubligej from love, and not compulsion ; he vi^as brave from sentiment alone, and had the honour of his country beating at his heart, even though ia the humblest station . This was the time when chivalry was at the highest, . and all the successes of England, at this period, were owing to a concurrence of circumstances not much regarded by historians : A romaniic nation was led on hy a romantic king. The spirit of chivalry, in some measure, served to soften the ferocity of the age; it was a mix* ture of love, generosity and war» You have already seen that the sons of princes anti the nobility, instead of being bred to arts, or polished by the sciences, w'ere brought into the field at an early age, and instructed in no other arts but those of arms. This instruction consisted in little more than merely how to sit on horseback, to wield the lance, to run at the ring, to flourish at a tourna- ment, to fall at the feet of a mistress, and attain such accomplishments as inured their bodies to bear the fatigues of a campaign. The rules of tactic.'-, of incampments, of stratagems, of for- tifications, were but little minded by any. Charles the v¥ise, of France, soon therefore, by a finely conducted policy, regained whatever was lost by John, his predecessor. Edward the Black P rince, emaciated by a lingering consump- tion, died at the palace of Westminster, in the forty sixth year of his age. England began to v/ear a face of discontent ; the' public treasure was lavished without any adyatitage to the king- dom ; the subjects laboured under numberless grievances; in short, the kingdom seemed now to feel, that a nation might be at once very vic- torious m A SIR IIS OF LITTERS. ^B9 fonous and very unhappy. But, to compkat tlieir miseries, Edward, their king, was now no longer what he was in the earlier part of his reign, he was sank into unmanly indolence, ahd gave himself up to the enjoyment of loo^e de- sire, in the arms of a favourite concubine called Alice Ferrers. His parliaments made frequent remonstrances against this base oblivion of him- self, The parliaments at this time, were not^ as formerly, factions ready to oppress public liberty, but assemblies of wise and good men, sedulous for the common welfare, and of wis- dom equal to the rectitude of their intentions: they frequently remonstrated against the king’s and his minister’s conducts they, at one time had influence sufficient to get his concubine re- moved, but he soon took her back, for the pas- sions of age are incurable, in her company he forgot all the burdens, duties, and fatigues of state, and left the kingdom to be plundered by a rapacious ministry. He did not live to feel the consequences of his bad conduct : he died at Shene In Surry, deserted by all, even by those wdio had fonrieily grown rich by his bounty. Richard IL son of the Black Piince, was ap- pointed his successor, and came to go'vern a dis- contented people, a rapacious ministry, and au impoverished state. These were the calamities consequent upon the errors of the preceding reign Edwaid III. escaped them, but tiiey fell heaviiy upon Richard, his successor. LETTER XX. T ■L HE faults of conquerors, as I have already observed, generally fall upon their successors. Richard I'^O AN HISTORY OF ENGLAN®, 7) 5 *- Richard II. came to the throne cf i3/7‘ j^jg grandfather, when yet but eleven, and found the people discontented and' poor. The gentry were, in lact, luxurious; spirit of profusion had entesed with the spirit ot gallantry ; this necessarily produced indolence and rapacity among the higher orders oi th® kingdom,, and their wants must necessarily pro-- duce an oppression of the rest. The regents, however, appointed during the king’s minority, seemed no w ay solicitous to ap- pease these rnar'nuring.s.^ fllhe duke of Lancas-t ter, better knowm by the name ol John of Ghaunt, in the very beginning, disgusted the people by robbing tw-o knights of a prisoner, whom they had taken in war; and, at the same time, several expeditions against the French and Scots happened to be carried on without success. •But a ne.w engagement entered into by the crown, of assisting Portugal, at a time wdien the govetninent was insulted by nearer eneraies# raised the people’s indigitatioa. To support this luinecessary alliance, a subsidy was to be levied by a poll tax,, payable by all above the age of filteen : this, at last, raised the people’s-rcsent- ment into an itisurrcciion. Notwithstanding the numljera who by war, by a residence iji towns, and tiy other means, Inul become free, yet there wmre still nmlritudes ia tiie country, who had lands in villanage, that, as yet, were only slaves to the lords from whom tiiey iidd. These nicn hi d seen the charms of linerty, from its effects upon others ; and they pitHted lor freedom ihemselves. Ihe luxury ai'id opulence which they saw others enjoy, but. ior w hich they toiled, became an inqeiiiive to them to struggle for liberty also. Several of. I!? A SERIES OF LETTERS. 141 these had become opulent enough to purchase their freedom, but, by an unjust act of parlia- ment, those purchasers were declared of no vali- dity. This the peasants considered as an in- fraction of the laws of humanity ; and such in- deed it actually was. A parliament of lords, and rich commoners, in this instance, seemed to have no regard for the rights of men whom they considered as slaves, as if some orders of mankind w^ere held even too vile to find justice. The minds of the people were, therefore, thus prepared for sedition, when the manner of col- lecting the poll tax provoked them to open revolt. We have, in preceding reigns, perceived po- pular insurrections only in the towns: we now find the spirit of seditious liberty spreading into the country. Citizens at first began to perceive their own strength, and next the same manner of thinking is embraced iry the peasant, whom the severity of the laws had annexed to the soil. We now begin to find a knowdedge of the rights of humanity diffused even to the very lowest of the people, and exerting itself in rude and ter- rible efforts for freedom. The present insurrection began in Essex, where a report was industriously spread, implying that the peasants were doomed to death ; that their houses would be burned, and, their farms plun- dered. The country people, alarmed at this in- telligence rose in their own defence, and, their numbers continually increasing, they advanced near London, to the number of an hundred thousand, whth banners displayed. At the head of this undisciplined concourse was one Wat Tyler, by trade a black-smith. He was one of those hardy spirits so frequently found among the 142 An history of England, the common English, ready to face any danger, and support every calamity. In exacting the poll-tax he had refused to pay for his daughter, alledging that she was under the age mentioned in the act of parliament. The brutal collec- tor insisted upon her being a full grown woman, and, in order to ascertain his assertions, proceed- ed to acts of indecency; this provoked the fa- ther to such a degree, that he struck him dead at one blow with his hammer. Wat Tyler w'as therefore considered as a champion .in the cause, and appointed spokesman to the people. It is easy to imagine the disorders committed by such a tumultuous assembly ; they burned and pil- laged wherever they came, and revenged their former miseries upon their masters the gentry, to whom they no longer acknowledged subjec- tion. After having entered the Towner, and murdered such as they regarded as enemies, they divided themselves into bodies, and took up their quarters in different parts of the environs of the city. At length, Richai d, riding tow^ards Smith- field, invited them to a conference, in order to know and remove their grievances. Wat Tyler just entered Srnithfield, when the king’s knig^ delivered the royal message, without alighting, not imagining he should stand upon ceremony : but this haughty demagogue, whose pride be- gan to rise with his exaltation, was so offended at this want of respect that he was gomg to kill him if the king, who was himself advancing, had nor ordered him to dismount. In Wat Tyler's conference with the king- aeing both on horseback, he made several p ..mosals, which, though censured by historians as exti iV'sgant, m reality Dis.afhe nothing but • omm m |uftice. He desired that ail slaves should be set free and that all t IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 143 all commonages should be open to the poor as well as the rich. Whilst he made these de- mands, he now and then lifted up his sword in a menacing manner ; which insolence so raised the indignation of William of Walworth, mayor of London, who attended the king, that without considering to w’hat danger he exposea his master he stunned Tyler with a blow of his mace, and Sir Philpot, ridjng up, thrus this sword through his body. His followers, seeing their leader on the ground, encouraged each other to revenge his death, and their bows v/ere now bent for ex- ecution, when Richard, though not quite sixteen years of age, instead of hying, rode up to the rebels, with admirable constancy and presence of mind, crying out with a resolute voice, 14^hat my leig^s, will you then kill your king ? £e not concerned for the loss of your leader ; 1 myself will now be your general : jollow me into the fields and you shall have whatever you desire. The rebels immediately desisted ; they follow- ed the king as if mechanically ; and the next day received a charter of freedom, and a general pardon. But these were only extorted grants; they were soon retracted ; the ringleaders of the rebellion were tried, convicted of treason and executed without mercy. The insurrections of the bar ms against the king, historians talk of with no great degree of animosity ; the insur- rections of the plebeians against the barons, la the present case is branded with all the viru- lence of reproach. The punishment of tl e in- surgent barons is generally styled cruelty ; the punishment of men wRo fought for native f ree- dom is called justice ; but we must be couteirt- ed with such misrepresentations of facts, till philosophers can be found to write history. We 4 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND. 144 , We now see the first wrong step in Richard’s conduct. He granted the rebels a charter, by which he gave the sanction of justice to their claiins ; but soon revoked this charter, which was apparently denying that jicstice they cle- rnanded. By these means he dissipated, indeed, the combination for that time : but their hatred remained, and was propagated by the severity of punishment. By these means Richard bad effectually aliena- ted the affections of the lower orders of people, it now’ only remained to make the parliament his enemies. Being come to his seventeenth year he began more clearly to discover his inclinations which had hitherto been restrained by the au- thority of his governors. He had been bred up amidst flatterers, who never ventured to con- trcul his w ill ; he had seen the liberties taken by Edw’ard III. over his subjects, and he might imitate him in them. But Richard was not the conqueror of France and Scotland ; he was hated by the poor, and envied by three guardians of great power, wdio secretly desired his crowr; ; every error, there- fore, in the conduct of a king so situated, must be attended with dangerous and violent effects. His indolence in repressing the inw.si'jn of the Scots, and the machinations of France, were sufficient to give disgust to his conduct. All iris faults were exaggei ated, and his behaviour even when right, publicly nproved. Unac- customed to coiitrotil, he laid a scheme to dc-. com.e absolute, anti govern without his pariia- menl’s advice. Willing, liowever, to cctour his arbitrary proceeding wnth the iJppearance of justice, he asRcd the opinion of t!ie judges ; iheir opinions have been too often found to be iniluenced IN’ A SERITiS OF J.ETTERS. MS influenced by interest ; they gave it as their opinion, that the king was above law. It er, pethapS, they might have been directed by an- cient laws,; but custom had introduced ne\y inodes of thinking, and they did not pay a just deference to her power. This sentence the lore’s ^ opposed by declaiations ; and offering various reasons, were quickly at the head of forty thou- sand men to second their arguments ; but, what had still greater w'eight, they threatened to clioose ■anew king, which -so operated upon the king’s natural pusillanimity, that he consented to change his favourite ministers, who had adviced him to extend the royal prerogative ; he renewed his coronation oath, and the same formalities were uced as at the commence in eat of a new reign. We have seen numbers of tliese insurrections without any apparent consequence ; the king circumscribed in one reign, and permitted to range at liberty in another ; the only secre.t, at that timej for a king to become despotic, was to be ever in the, field ; a warlike prince might command the nobility, as they were obliged to follow irim in his campaigns.; and he might com- mand the people, from that fondness which the vulgar have for a conqueror. Richard, how- ever; was no way warlike ; bat, being bred up in the luxury and pride mf a .coui t, still expected deference and obeditnee, which could, at that time, be obtained only by merit in war. Having, by the removal of his favourites, rendered himself still more iceb’e ihan before, he now ran into profusion, and endeavoured to h.m- get his real weakness in extravagance and lux- ury. Suchexpences necessarily created new de- mands upon the people, and they were bold Von.L H eiraoUt,h 146 AN HISTORY OF ENGL AN©, enough to refuse : this necessarily produced new insurrections, and reiterated punishments on the part of the king. Punishment and arbitrary proceeding generally produce but a temporary and fatal security : Richard, however, insensiole of this, imagined that now was the time to ren- der himself despotic, and had even influence suf- ficient to prevail upon a parliament, called in the year 1397, to justify his pretensions. By this merciless session several of the nobility lost their lives,; the archbishop of Canterbury was banished, the earl of Arundel, put to death, and the earl of Warwick sentenced to quit the kingdom. Every thing seem’d to contribute to support the king in the acquisition of his new-created power. The most forward to oppose his designs had suffered death or banishment ; and they who still remained-, were bribed to acquiesce, by pen- sions, grants, and places. The great oiEcers of t ie crow n, the governors of the towns and coun- ties, were all devoted to his interest: yet all this W'as but a deceitful security.; this w'as a power founded upon interest or terror alone, and not' upon affection : the people hated him, and the generality of the nobles only obeyed him thro* constraint. In this manner did this giddy monarch suffer himself to be deluded by vain hopes, and every day gave some new instance of straining the royal prerogative beyond what it could bear; but soon an opportunity offered to induce the people to refuse a blind obedience to his unjust commands, and to convince him of his former err't)rs. A charge happened to be exhibited by th. duke of Hereford against the duke of iNor- folk, for having spoken seditious w'ords against his m A SERIES OF LETTERS. 147 Vi’is majesty, in a private conversation ; for want of sufficient proof to support the accusation, it was decreed by the Lords in parliament, that the dispute should be decided by single combat ac- cording to the laws of chivalry still in fashion. The time and the place were appointed for the determining this affair, and the combatantsmet accordingly. It may not be amiss to describe ?the ceremonies upon that occasion. Hereford, the challenger, first appeared on a white courser, gayly caparisoned, armed at all points, with his drawn sword in his hand. When he approached the lists, the mareschal demand- ed, who he was ? To wdiich he answered, “ I ** am Henry of Lancaster, duke of Hereford, come hither according to my duty,'^against “ Thomas Mobray, duke of Norfolk, a false traitor to God, the king, the realm, and me.’* Then, taking the oath that his quarrel was just and true, he desired to enter the lists: which being .granted, he sheathed his S'word, pulled down his beaver, crossed himself on the fore- head, seiz’d his lance, passed the barrier, alight- ed and sat down in a chair of green velvet, placed at one end of the lists. He had scarce »taken his seat, when the king came into the field, with great pomp, attended by the peers, the count of St. Pol, who came from France on purpose to see this famous trial, and ten thou- sand men at arras to prevent tutnults and distur- bance. His majesty, being seated in his chaic of state, the king at arms proclaimed, that none but such as were appointed to marshal the field, should presume to touch the lists, upon pain of death. Then another herald proclaimed aloud “ Behold here Henry ol Lancaster, duke of “ Hereford, who has entered the lists, to pei- H % “ lorm X 14^ an history OF ENGLAND, • foiHD his df’^^oir against Thomas' Mowbray, duke of No^'^olk, on pain of being counted ‘‘ false and rtcreant.” The duke of ^Norfolk iminediately app^^i'ed in arms, mounted upon a baibed horse, with a coat of arms of crimson -velvet, einbroi^^J'^ci with Hons of silver and mul- berry trees ; snd having taken his oath before the constable mareschal, entered the field, exclaiming a!<->od, “God defend the right!’’ Alighting I'roio the horse, he placed himself in a cliair of crliii‘Oo velvet, :Opposite to his anta- gonist at the (’ther .end of the lists : then the mareschal, ha''iiig f^ti^isdred their lances, deli- vered one to tnf challenger, and sent a knight with the other to the duke of Norfolk, and pro- clamation waf O^sdethat they should prepare for the combat. They immediately mounted their horses, then closed their beavers, fixed their lances on thei‘ ^'cs^s and the trumpets sound- ing a charge, duke of Hereford began hk career with gr^-'at violence, but, befoie he could join his king threw down his warder, gnd heralds interposed. Richard ordered their l^^ces to be taken away^ and ba- nished the duk^c of Hereford for ten years, and the duke of Norfolk lor life. Nothing cOuld lea stronger proof ol that unaccountable error Vtuhich ever attei^ded the king’s designs, than this behaviour : the one was condemned to exile without being charged with any offence, and the ether withouc being convicted of any crime. *1 he whole kiiigdom was displeased at the disap- poiruincnt ; s^id this determination, in these fe- rucious times, even seemed to argue cowardice in the king. The duke of Norlolk wuis over- wiitiHicd with grid and despondence at the judg- nwiii avvaidcci against him : he letiiecl to Ve- nice JN A SERIES OF LETTERSi 14^ nice, where in a little time, he died of sorrow and chagrin. Hereford, on the contrary, bore his fate with sreat resignation, and behaved with such respectful submission when he went to take his leave, that the king remitted four years of his exile. From this he withdrew to Paris, where he tnet with a favourable reception from the. French king, and, in all probability, would have married the only daughter of the duke of B-erry, had not the match been interrupted by the interposition of Richard, who sent the earl of Salisbury, as his ambassador, to represent Hereford as a person who had been guilty of treasonable practices, and to assure the French court, that he would never be permitted tf) re- turn to his own country!, The princes of the blood, alarmed at this declaration, broke off the match abruptly: and when Hereford expostu- lated with them on the suhject, made him ac- quainted with their 'reasons for retracting the assent they had already given to his proposal. S uch complicated iniuries could not fail to ag- gravate the resentment of the;dake against Rich- ard, whicli he had hitherto concealed : and these, probably, first turned his thoughts upon acqvair- ing the crovm of England. No man could be better qualified for a project of this nature than the duke of Flereford : he was cool, cautious, discerning, and resolute ; he had distinguished himself by his courage, both at honte, atid abroad: he was the idol of the soldiery, and the favourite of the people : he was immensely rich, and, by blood or alliance, connected with all the iioblenacn in England. The greatest part of the kingdom not only muninured, but loudly exclaimed again-t the sentence of banishment which had been denounced against him, and ar- cleptly IJ^O IK BISTORT Of INOLAHC, dently wished for an opportunity of doing him justice. It was not long before they were gratified in this particular. His father, the duke of Lan- caster, dying in February, the banished duke of Hereford ought to have succeeded to his titles and estate, by virtue of his hereditary right, as well as of the letters patent which he had ob- tained, even after his sentence, at Coventry i. but Enchard, notwithstanding his former grants, siinred by the greatness of the prize, by a sen- tence no less unjust than avaricious, seized the deceased duke’s effects and estate, and de- creed that the son’s banishment should be per- petual, T’he laws and liberties of the people were now in a most deplorable state : there was scarce- ly a man in the kingdom able, though all wete willing, to oppose the arbitrary pou er usurped by the king. Finding himself above all restraint he gave himself up to a soft and effeminate life, regardless of the good of the public. Flis minis- ters not to be behind their monarch, gave little attention to business but saw without any con- cern, the English nation fall into the utmost con- tempt. In this situation the people naturally turn- ed their eyes upon the banished duke, as the only person from vviiom they could expect redress ; he was stimulated by private injuries, and had alli- ance and interest to give weight ro his measures. The inaleconients only waited ibr the absence of the king, to put these measures into execution. For this an occasion soon offered. The earl of Marche, presumptive heir to the crown, hav- ing been appointed die king’s lieutenant in Ire- land, was slain, in a skirmish, by the native Irish ; and Richard was so incensed at this, that with a numerous army he went over to revenge IN A SERIES OP LITTERS. IS* His death in person. The duke of Lancaster, (for this was the title which the duke of Here^ ford assumed after his father’s death,) being in- formed of Richard’s departure from England, with three small vessels landed at Ravenspur, in Yorkshire ; at first be only pretended that his sole aim was to obtain justice. The earl of Nor- thumberland who had long been a malecontent, and Henry Percy, his son, surnamed Hotspur, immediately joined him with some troops : after this junction, the concourse of people coming to list under his banner was so great, that in a few days, his army was threescore thousand strong : so eager were the nobles and people to put themselves under the protection of a prince, who allured them with the prospect of freedom. Whilst these things were transacting in Eng- land, Richard was in. Ireland in perfect security ; the contrary winds, which continued to blow above three weeks, hindered his receiving any^ news of the rebellion in his native dominions; but, when he heard of it, he immediately im- prisoned the duke of Lancaster’s brothers, whom he had taken over with him, and resolved to go immediately into England, to fight the enemy : yet, ever wavering in his resolutions, he v^'as persuaded to stay some time longer, till he could prepare ships to transport all his forces at once. This delay compleated his ruin : his friends in England had assembled an army of forty thou- sand men, who, upon finding the king did not return to head them at the time appointed, dis- persed. Richard, however, landed in England, and soon perceived his unhappy situation : he saw himself in the midiit of an enraged people, none of whom he could rely on ; forsaken by, those who,^in,the.,suiishine,o,f power, contributed, to s AN HISTORY OF ENGLAN0, to fan his follies. Thus, not knowing whom to trust, or where to turn, he saw no other hopes of safety, but to throw himself on the generosity of his enemy ; he therefore sent him word, that Ite was ready to submit to whatever terms he thought proper to prescribe, and that lie earnestly desired a conference. For this pur- ]jose the duke of Lancaster appointed' a castle within about ten miles of Chester, where he came next day, with his whole army. Richard, who the day before had been brought hither alone, descrying his rival’s approach from the walls went down to receive him : while the duke after some ceremony, entered the castle in compleat armour, only his head was bare in complement to the fallen king. The king, ap- proaching, received him with the sakitaiion of. Cousin of Lancaster you are we’come \ at which the duke, bowing three times to the ground, replied in these terms, H'ly Lord the king, I a 'tt come sooner than you appointed, ht cause, your peo- ple ?a}\ you have for one a?td twenty years governed with rigour and indiscretion, so that they are very ill satipfed wiili your conduct hut if it please God 1 will help yiu to govern r hem better for the time to come. To this declaration the kiisg made no other ansvver, but. Fair cousin, since it plsases^ you, it pi. uses us hkczvise. The king vras soon taught to feel his wretch- ed situation : he was led, triumphantly, tfirough every town, amidst an infinite concouise of peo- ple, who cursed him and extolled the duke. Long live the good duke of L'ncastcr, our de- liverer ! was the general cry; but; for the king, to use the emphatic wortis of the poct. None cried, God Hess him. After the repeated indig- nities, he w'as confined a close prisoner in tlie tower. A in' A SERIES OF LFTTERS.*' 153 tower, there, if posiible, to undergo still a greater variety of studied inso’euce and flagrant con- tempt. Unhappy Ricliard, thus humblef!, be- gan to lose his spirits with his power, nor was there any great share of policy required to in- duce hi nt to resign his crown. Updn this re- signation the' duke of Lancaster j'ounded his strongest claim, but, willing to fortify his pre- tensions with every appearance of justice, the parliament was ■ soon induced to confirm h's claim. The king was soleilinly deposed, and the duke of Lancaster elected in his stead, by the title of Heniy IV. . Thus began- the contest between the houses of York and Lancaster, which, for several years after, deluged theking- cTons with blood, yet which contri-^ buted, in the end, to give strength^' ‘^o99‘ and consistency to the constitution. ^ LETTER' XXI. I'Sl UMEROUS formalities are often used by princes otrly to cover impotence or imposture. Henry the fourth, knowing the injustice of his ■ title to the crown, wms at least determined to give his coronation all po^S'ble solemnity. A pe- culiar oil was used upon this occasion ; he aiTec- ted great- devotion ; ' and every action shewed W’ith how much humility he could be an usurper.. Notwdthstanding, the validity of his title, wdiar- ever pains he took to secure it, w^as controvert- ed by some, and a conspiracy w?as soon formed ■ to replace Richapd on the throne. This wa* projected by several nob]e.men, -and the particu- lars of the scheiTxt w'ere committed to v.witing, each being provided with a copy, signed by Ids confederates. Aniong other conspirators, tiie H 3 duke 1 ^ 4 r an history of ENGLAND, duke of Aumerle was one ; and he had been one of a consultation, when it was resolved that the king should be assassinated at Oxford, at a tour- nament ; but when that opportunity offered, he was missing among the number. It happened at that time he v.^as visiting his father, the duke of York, and sitting at dinner, let fall a paper from his bosom, which his father took up and examined. The duke finding the contents to he a combination against the king’s life, flew with the utmost expedition to Windsor, to inform his Majesty of the plot : tlie son, guessing his fa- ther’s intention, went by a sliorter w^ay, and ob- tained his pardon before his father’s arrival, who, soon after coming, produced the paper with the conspirators names. Henry, alarmed at this in- telligence, used the most vigorous efforts to dis- pel the rising storm. The conspirators had, by this time, dressed up one of Richard’s servants, named Maudlin, in royal robes, giving out, rhat he was the deposed king, who having escaped from prison, was come to implore the assistance of his subjects. Pity is a passion for which the English have ever been r emarkable ; majesty in distress was sufficient to excite ail their loyalty and compassion, and they flocked in great numbers round the conspir- ing leaders. I'heir army soon became conside- rable, and encamped near Cirencester, while, the leaders took up their head quarters in that city, btttthcy were so careless, or unexperienced in w^ar, that they neglected to place proper guards at the gates and avepues of the place. This the mayor soon observed, and assembling four hundred men in the night, he secured the gates, so as to exclude the troops that were en- camped without the walls, and then attacked the chiefs within. The duke of Surry and ear! of IJf A SERIES OF LETTERS. of Salisbury, two of the priocipal conspirators, were taken, after an obstinate defence, and be- headed on the spot, by the mayor’s order ; while the duke of Exeter and earl of Gloucester, tw'-o more of the party, escaped over the tops of the houses into the camp, with a view to storm the towm at the head of their forces ; but they found the tents and baggage abandoned by the soldiers, who hearing the noke and tumult within, had concluded that a party of the king’s army had privately entered, and from this persuasion, fled with the utmost precipitation. The two lords, perceiving it out of their power to execute their design, parted, the better to make their escape ; but they had the misfortune to be taken, and shortly after lost their heads on the scaffold. If we compare the times which I now attempt to give you an idea of, wdth those of king John, or those of some reigns before him, we shall find a great change with respect to the insurgent barons. Tn the former period they made fre- quent insurrections, were often taken in open rebellion, but as frequently pardoned ^ in the period now in view, they were seldom taken without suffering the utmost rigour of the law. This plainly shews how much the power of the barons W' as sunk in the coarse of a couple of centuries. This revolution of power is, not- withstanding, natural and obvious,: as the peo- ple began to share the government with the no- bles, the king was fixed upon as a fit person, to secure the balance ; and both were contented to make him great, from a jealousy of each otlier. Noblemen were therefore now executed, not as petty monarchs> but offending subjects, and none but kings were considered as exempt from penal laws. In 156 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND^ In zll probability, the ill success of this en terprjse basiened Richard’s end, Chie oi those assassins that are found in every court, ready to commit the most horrid crimes for reward, came down to the place of this unfortunate monarch’.s- conlinement, and, wnth eight other lollowers, lushed into his apartment. The king, conclud- ing tlieir design was to take away his life, re- solved to sell it as clearly as he could ; lie wrested a po!e-ax Irorn one of the inuidercrs, and laid lour of the number dead at his feet ; buU he was at length overpowered, and struck dead by the blow of a baitle-ax. Thus died the unfortunate Ricliard, In the thirty- third year ot his age, while compassion for hjs sufferings and death made more converts to his family and cause, than ever his UiOst meritorious actions during his life had gained him. The ckaih of Richard was very seasonable to his successor. T.'iie king of France had actually raised a vast ariijament, in oider to replace the dcj'osed tnonarcli ; and so much was Henry ter- rified at his intentions, that ire ordered the bi- shop of Arundel to arm even liie ecclesiastics of iiis province. The prepaiatiuos of France might have contributed to hasten the fall of Richard ; hiS death V as iio sooner know n at the Frctich totiti, than ail thoughts ol the invasion were hfd aside, a truce for eighi-and-tw enty years was cocciaded between the two crowns, and it was agreed that queen Isabel, who had been married to Richard, but whose marriage had never been consummated, should return to- France, her native country. A kingdom like England, at that time divided in itself, and surrounded by enemies on every iide, could not expect a peace of any continu- ance ; IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. IS? mice: nccordlng^ly the Scots began to give new fiistui bances : and, wlicn the aisiles of Eng- land were inarched not tlsward, in order to op- pose tiieir invasions, the Welsh rose to vindicate their ancient liberties. Owen Glendour, a name among the people of that country respected even to this day, led them on, and gained seve- ral victories; but his successes were only calcu- lated to procure a temporary triumph, and no lasting advantages. Whatever honour the Eng- lish lost on the side of Vfalcs, they gained on that of Scotland. The histories of those times are filled w'ith the petty victories and defeats on either side ; butj as they neither served to alter nor transicr power, they scarce deserve a place in the chronicles ol a kingdom. Wdiile Henry was employed in those unavail- ing campaigns, a more dangerous storm threat- ened him frotn bis own subjects. He claimed -the prisoners that weie taken from the Scots by tiie earl of fsorthuinberlaiid, ioi hirnsell ; while the earl, flushed with victory, and considering ifiinoeif as the supporting column of Henry’s rhione, resented ills demand. A scheme was latd, in which the Scots and Welsh were to combine their imees, and assist Northumber- land in elevating Mortimer, as the true heir to tiie English throne. As soon, therefore, as the confederates wei'e prepared, the Percies of Nor- tliumherland suddenly appeared in arms in the North; but the earl himself falling ill, his bro- ther and son marched with his troops to join the Welsh, who were advancing as lar as Shrop- shii-e. Upon the junction of these two armies, they published a manifesto, which coinpiainecl of many real grievances, 'and aggravated others. He nry. IS? AN HrST0 9.Y OF ENGLAND, Henry, who had received no intelligence of their designs, was extremely surprised at the news of this rebellion ; but, fortunately, having an army in readiness, he marched towards Shre'.>?sbury to meet the rebels, who were there encamped. Upon coming up to them, propo- sals tor a mediation were offered, and such fa- , Tourable terms promised, that it was thought it wmuld end in a reconciliation ; but distrust on both sides soon bioke off the treaty, and the , battle soon began. In this Henry obtained a complete victory ; and Hotspur, the earl of Northumberland’s son, so renowned for former successes, was slain. Mean time the earl of Northumberland, being recovered, was advanc- ing with a body of troops to reinforce the army of the malecontents,. and take upon him the- command ; but hearitig by the way of his son’s ana brother’s misfortune, he dismissed his troops, not daring to keep the field with so few forces before a victorious army. The king, to ter- minate this troublesome affair as soon as possible, promised the ear! an absolute pardon, in case he obeyed witlroui delay, menacing him with utter ruin, shouki he refuse the proffered favour. The earl, finding himself without re- source, chose rather to throw himself upon the king’s mercy, than lead a precarious and indi- gent life in exile : he therefore repaired to York, and threw h’mself at the king’s feet, who punctually performed his promise Probably,, he thought the criminal was already sufficiently punished in the death of his son and brother* The extinction oi one rebellion only seemed to give rise to new. The archbishop of \ ork, being dissatisfied, and eager to revenge the king’s death, by whom he w^as promoted, en- tered IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. tered into a confederacy with some other lords, to dethrone Henry. Northumberland, though pardoned, was again among the number ; they W'ere, however, once more prematurely disco- vered, and most of the conspiratbrs died by the hands of the executioner ; but Northumberland had the good fortune to escape into Scotland. While the kingdom was thus torn by faction, and threatened with foreign invasions, a still, more terrible calamity threatened it from the clergy. Since Wickliffe published his opinions, about the end of the reign of Edw-ard III. his doctrine was so spread, that the clergy were in continual apprehensions of its prevailing, Elenry was now'’ to catch at every assistance, in order to strengthen his usurped pow'er : among others, that of the clergy was not to be despised ; he therefore earnestly recommended to his parlia- ment the care of the church’s conservation. How reluctant soever the house of commons might be to persecute a sect whose only crime was error, the credit of the court, and the ca- bals of the clergy, obtained at length, an act for the burning obstinate heretics. This statute ' was uo sooner passed, than William Sawtre, a follow’er of Wickliffe, was burned alive, by vir- tue of the king’s writ, delivered to the mayor of London. This was the first man in England ■who suffered death for the sake of religion; but, the fires once kindled, the clergy would not suffer them soon to be extinguished ; they readily perceived, that a power of burning their enemies would revive that temporal power which they possessed about three c-enturies be- fore : in this they were not mistaken ; they again, by this means, renewed their pristine authority, but with this difference, that as, in the times of the J6o an’ history of ElVCLAN'Dj the Saxon heptaichy, their power was founded ill the love of the peop'e, in the present case it had its original wlioliy in t'teir fears By tiiesc meaiis Henry sarmounte J all his trou- bles, and the kingdom enjoyed tranquillity. I^c had nothing to fear from France, distracted by, its own iaiesiiue divisions ; the WeUh sued fur’ peace ; the regetit oi Scotland dreaded a rup- ture with England,’ lest Henry should send home ' tile king ol' Scotland whom lie iiad made his pri- soner, and thus terminate the regent’s delegated ' power: add to this, the nialeconieats in Eng- land wei-e too inconsiderable to attempt any' thing further against the government. During' this calm, the king endeavoured to efface the' impressions of severity, wliich h’s conduct had made upon the people, by affecting a popularity' and regard for the welfare of the subject;, a' never-iaillng metliod to conciliate the affection' of the English in favour of their sovereigno While he thus laboured, not without success, to' retrieve the reputatioii he had lost, his sun,' the Prince of Wales, seemed bent upon incurring' public aversion ; he’ gave a loose to all kinds of ’ debauchery, and was surrounded by a crew of profligate wretches, who made a practice of committing the most illegal acts of violence. ' The father was extremely mortified at this de- generacy in his eldest son, who had already ex- hibited repeated pvroofs of his valour, conrluct' and generosity ; virtues which he now seemed to renounce ; ■ while the splenetic and gloomy.' trembled at the prospect of liis succeeding to the throne. Nevertheless, in the midst eff these excesses, the nobleness of his heart seemed, at intervals, to emerge liom the gulpii in which it was plunged. One pf his diffolute pompani'ons,' having IN' A SERIES OF LETT E RS. l6r having been brought to trial tor some misdenma- nor was condemned, notwithstanding all the interest he could make in his favor; and he was fo exasperated at the iflue of the trial, that he ftruck the judge upon the bench, d'his ma- gidrate, whose name vVas Sir William Gaf- coigne, behaved with the dign'ty that became his Oihee ; he fortliwith ordered the prince to be committed to prison. When this transaction WRS reported to the king, who was an excel- lent judge of mauki'td, he could not help ex- claiming, in a transport of joy, “ Happy is the king who has a magistrate endowed wuth cou- rage to execute the laws upon such an offender: dill more happy in having a son wdlling to sub- mit to such-'chastisement f’ Th^s, in fact, is one of tlie drlf great In- stances we read in the English History, of a ma- gistrate doing justice in opposition to power. 'I’he government was now much changed from what it w-as in the times even of Richard, w'hen judges were but the ministers oE royal caprice. Henry did not long out-live this transaction. Perceiving ids end approach, he disposed his mind to the duties of devotion, and took the cross, fully determined to con'^ecrate the re- maining part of his life in fighting the cause of the pilgriiivs at Jeriwalem, which was at that time considered as the cattie of heaven, f his is not the First instance we have seen of princes endeavouring to strike up a bargain with Provi- dence, and promising to perlorm particular acts- f)i' devotion, upon being indulged with a longe r period oj" existence. He in parted his design to a great council, assembled lor that purpoi^eL and began to make piepaiations for the expedi- tio-n, when his disorder increased to such a de- gf-ee, 1^2 IK HISTORY OF ENISLAN©, gree, that he was obliged to lay aside his in- tention, and think of a voyage o^' greater im- portance» As his constitution decayed, his fears of losing the crown redoubled, even to childish anxiety : he would not sleep unless the royal diadem was laid upon his pillow. One day, being in a violent paroxysm of his disorder, the prince of Wales took up the crowm and carried it away; but soon after, the king re- covering his senses, and missing the crown, he asked v/hat was become of it,, and understand- ing the prince had carried it ofiF, “ What,” said the king to the prince with indignation, would “ you rob me of my dignity before my death P”' “ No,” replied the prince : Thinking your ** majesty was dead, I took the crown as my lawful inheritance ; but now' I see you alive, “ 1 restore it with much more pleasure, and may God grant you many happy days to en- “ joy it in peace !” So saying, he replaced the crown upon the pillow, and having received his father’s blessing,, dutifully retired. The king was surprised with his last fit at his devo- tions before the shrine of Sti Edward the. Con- fessor, in Westminster abbey, from whence he was carried to the Jerusalem chamber. When recovered from his sw’oon, perceiving himself in a strange place, he desired to know if the apartment had any particular name ; being told . of its appellation, he now concluded a prophecy fulfilled, which said,, that he should die in Je- rusalem ; and, after some good instructions to his successor, he recommended his soul to heaven, and soon after expired, on the twen- tieth day of Marcli, in the forty-sixth year of his age, and the fourteenth of his reign. Henry IN A SERIES CJ LITTERS. 163 Henry, whatever he might have been as a man, was certainly an excellent king. The govern- ment assumed both a form and liberty under his administration: the distinction between the no- bility and the people W’as rendered less consi- derable ; and the magistrates were less arbitrary and less venal. LETTER XXII. T A HE death of Henry IV. gave his people but little affilction, among whom he ^ ■ never acquired any popularity; ’ ‘ ^ but the rejoiGings.madc for the succession of his son, Henry V. vrere manifest and sincere. This prince was their favourite, notwithstiind- ing the profligacy of his youth : . in the very height of riot and extravagance, he would, sometimes, give instances of the sublimest vir- tues. But his courage seemed to be what pecu- liarly won their affection and esteem : at this barbarous period, courage seemed to be regard- ed as the only virtue : courage and superstition then made up the whole system of human duty, and stamped the character of heroism. The people of Europe were, by this time, de- generated Irom v\hat they were even two hun- dreth years before ; a continuance of war had blotted out the very traces of morality. The vices of the clergy had drawn upon them con- tempt and opposition, which they returned, not by reforming themselves, but by persecuting those who opposed them. This reign wasI^MlISTORY OF' ENGLAK fc, highly in liis favour. The archbishop of Cafi- terbury, iherefore, undertook to prejudice him in the royal opinion, and endeavoured to per- suade the young monarch, that fire and Maggot weie the only in'^truments capable of saving an heretic fromduture damnation; and that Oid- castle’s opinions deserved the severest punish- ments of the lawi The king was, at length, persuaded to talk with Oldcastle in private, and, finding him immoveabie, gave him up to the" fiiTy of his enemies. Perrecucion ever produces those crimes which it endeavours to abolish. Oldcastle was condemned, bur, escaping, was obliged to become, in fact, thtif guilty person which they had at first falsely represented him ; he headed a body of malcontents, and refused- to be amenable to the royal power. This un- happy man, after a- variety of distresses, at length fell into the povrer of his enemies; and never did the cruelty of man invent*, or the crimes of tke delinquent, o'rnw down, more tor- ments than he w’as made to endure: he was hung up with a chain by the middle, and by a slow fire burned, or rather roasted alive. Such specracles as these must naturally pro- duce a disgust in the people both to the govern- ment and the clergy; but, to turn their minds from these hideous spectacles, Henry was le- solved to take advantage of the troubles in which I'rance vvas, at that time, involved. Charles, who was then king of Prance, was subject- to frequent fits of lunacy, which totally cbnouali- fied him from reigning: in these intervals tire ambition of his vassals and courtiers had room for exertion, and they grew^ powerful from the weakness of their kirig. Isabella, of Bavaria, his q^ueen, was at the head of one faction ; the • duke JN- A SERIES OF LETTERS. duke of Burgundy, of another: the faction of the children of the Duke of Orleans was con- siderable ; that only which held to the king was feeble. Each of these, as they happened to pre- vail, branded their captives with the names of traitors, and the. gibbets were at once hung with -the bodies of the accused and the accusers. This w'as thought a most favourable opportu- nity to rescue from France, those grants that had formerly been given up by tt'eaty: Henry, therefore, invaded that kingdom w’iih an army of fiity thousand men. He tookTrlarfleur, and advanced into a country already rendered deso- late by factions, and which he now totally laid waste by a foreign invasion : but, though the enemy made but a feeble resistatice, yet the cli- mate seemed to fight lor them ; a contagious dysentery carried off three parts of Henry's sol- diers. In such a situation he had recourse to an expedient com.mon enough in the barbarous times J am describing , he challenged the Dauphin to single, combat, offering to stake his pretensions on the event. This challenge, as might naturally be expected, was rejected ; and the French, though disagreeing internally, now' seemed united at the appearance of foreign danger. Henry soon began to repent of his rash inroad into a country, w'here disease and a powerful army, every moment threatened destruction; and, therefore, thought of retiring to Ca ais. In this retreat, which was at once both painful and dangerous, Henry took every method to in- spire ills troops with courage and perseverance, and shewed them, in himself, an example of patience and resignation. In the mean time the French army was dravrn up to obstruct his pas- sage, nor was there any possibility of his pa.ssing them I65 AN- HISTORY OF INGLAND, them without a battle ; yet even that could pro- mise but small hopes of victory: his army was wasted with disease, their spirits worn down with fatigue, destitute of provisions, and but nine thousand in number, to sustain the shock of an enemy amounting to an hundred and fifty thousand. This disparity as it raised the cou- rage of the French, so it impressed the English vdth terror. So confident were the French leaders of success, that they began to treat for the ransom of their prisoners. On the 25th of October, 1415, the two armies drew up in bat- tle array, early in the morning, near the castle of Agincourt. A nanovv ground, flanked on one side by a wood, on the other by a rivulet, W’as to be the scene of action. The constable of France commanded the French, and Henry, with Edward, duke of York, the English. Both armies, for some time, kept silently gazing at each other, as if afraid to begin ; which Henry perceiving, with a chearful countenance, cried out, “ My friends, since they will not begin, let us set them the example j come on, and the Blessed Trinity be our protection ! And now^ the whole army set forward wdth a shout. The French still continued to wait their approach with intrepidity, when the English archers let fly a shower of arrow^s, three feet long, which did great execution. The French cavalry ad- vancing to repel these, two hundred bowmen • who lay till then concealed, rising on a sudden, let fly among them. , The English, seeing their confusion, now threw' by their arrows and fell upon them sw'ord in hand ; though enfeebled by disease, yet they recompensed the defect by va- lour. The French at first repulsed the assailant.s ; but they, resolving to conquer or die, again burst A SERIES OF LETTERS. xh upon the enemy, with such impetuosity that they t>,ave way: in the mean tune, a body of English horse, which had been concealed in a neiglibouring wood, rushing out, flanked the French infantry; and now a total disorder be- gan to ensue. The first line of the enemy being thus routed, ■the second line began to march up to interrupt the progress of victory. Henry therefore, alighting from his horse, presented himself to the enemy with an undaunted countenance ; and at the head of his men fought on foot encourag- ing some, and assisting others. Eighteen French cavaliers, who were resolved to kill him or die in the attempt, rushing forth together, advanced, and one of them stunned him with a blow of his battle-ax ; they then fell upon him in a body, and he was just going to sink under their blows, when -David Cara, a valiant Welshman, and two more of the same country, came to his aid : they Soon turned the attention of the French from the king,; but being overpowered them- selves, they fell dead at his feet. The king had now' recovered his senses, and move help com- 1 ig in, the eighteen Frenchmen w'ere all slain; upon which he knighted the brave Welshmen who had valiantly fallen in his defence. The heat of the battle still increasing, his courage seemed to increase ; and now the thickest of the battle was gathered round his person; his bro- ther, being fallen down by his side, stunned with the blow of a club, he covered him for a while; but receiving another blow' himself, it threw him on his knees ; he soon, however, re- covered, and his valour seemed to inspire his troops w’iih fury ; they ran headlong upon the enemy, and, by an unexpected attack, put them into l6S AN HISTORY OR ENGLAND, into such disorder that the’r leaders could never after bring them to the charge. The duke of Alencon, who commanded the second line, see- ing it fly, resolved by one d(sperate stroke to retrieve the day, or fall in the attempt : where- fore, running up to King Henry, and crying aloud that he was the duke of Alencon, he dis- charged such a blow on his head, that it carried off part of the king’s helmet: Henry not being able to ward off the blow, soon returned it, by striking the duke to the ground.; and he was soon killer) by the surrounding crowd, all the king’s efforts to save him Irom their fury being' ineffectual. The first two lines being thus dispersed, the third refused to assist them, *and marched off without fighting, d he king, therefore, think- ing himself thus sure of victory, was surprised with an account that his baggage was plundered by the enemy : just struck with an apprehension, that the French had rallied, -and being sensible that the number of his prisoners were greater than that of his army, he rasldy ordered all the prisoners to be put to death ; wdiich order was accordingly executed. This severity tarxiished the glory which his victory would otherwise have acquired; but all the iieroism, and all the virtues of that age, a.re tinctured with barbarity. This victory, however great it may appear, was rather Ostentatious than useiul : it acquired the English glory, but not dominion ; and while it settled Henry’s interest more firmly in the hearts of his subjects, it only served to inspire him with love of n w coiiquests. With this ■view, therefore, he returned to England, in or- der to procure new stores of men and money. 'I'he IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. I()and it was resolved that the Dauphin should he brought to an account for the murder of the late duke of Burgundy. Things being adjusted in this man- ner, Henry entered the city of Paris without opposition, and there conducted the government at his pleasure ; while tiie feeble Charles was attended as a king Indeed, but with scarce even the liberty of a suOject. The Dauphin, in the mean time, wandered about, a stranger to his own dominions, while Henry returned to London, to rai»e new subsi- dies, and new troops, to secure his late con- quests. His presence, as might be expected, inspired his subjects with joy; but they at the- , same time could not be much pleased with a conquest, whicfi seemed likely to transfer the seat of empire from among them. The parlia- ment upon various pretences, refused him a sup- ply equal to his demands : however, he again set VoL. I. I sail AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, rjo sail with a new'-raised array, and the Dauphin^ upon his appearance, thought fit again to retire. Benry tlien entered Paris, and while Charles ‘itad but a small court, he was attended with a very ‘magnificent one. On Whitsunday they dined together in public, the two kings and tire TWO queens, with their crowns on their heads ; Charles, indeed receiving apparent homage, but 'Henry commanded with absolute authority. Af- ter this he prepared to stop the progress of the .enemy;, who had already taken -sotne towns; (but whilst he flattered himself with a speedy victor}.^ he was attacked with a rfistula, which the.physicia'ns at that time were too unskilful to treat with judgment. He died at the castle of ‘Vincennes, with the same intrepidity with which he lived, and was buried at Westminster- abbey. ^His reign, during the short time he Jived, which was ^but thirty-four years, was -rather splendid than serviceablo.j the treasures his native country were lavished upon con- quests that to them were uniprofi table. ' His luiiitnry fame acquired him the reputation of every other good' quality ; he favoured the clergy, and they have itturnelingbjoke, a priest, and reputed necromancer, and one May Gurdemain, who was said to be a wntch : it was asserted that with their assistatice, she made a fipure of tlic king in wax ; tins the accuser-^ ^ \ % sail 172 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, said was placed before a gentle fire, and, as tli« wax dissolved, the king’s, strength was w'asted ; and, upon its total dissolution, his lil^e was to be at an end. .This charge Bolingbroke utterly denied ; but the dutchens confessed that she had desired -the woman to make a philtre, to secure the affections of the duke her husband. . Nei- ther their innocence, nor her rank, could pro- tect them : she w'as condemned to penance and perpetual imprisonment : Bolingbrok was hang- ed, and the woman burned in Smithfield. Henry, during these contests of his ministers, •was, at first, from age, incapable of conduct- ing the reigns of government : and, when he .became adult, he was equally incapable, Irotn ig BO ranee and imbecillity. Whether it w'as that .'•his governors bad kept him in ignorance, in or- der to prolong their own powder, or w'hether he was naturally weak, history does not clearly de- termine- .I'he earl oLSuffolk, one of those who shared the power at that time, thought the best Way of managing the king would be to marry him to. a woman wBo w’as herself capable of reigning alone. .He had still another motive, which :w?a5 to-create a. newcpow-er to oppose the -duke of Gloucester, who was, his enemy, and an obstacle in the road to his ambition : for this purpose, he fixed upon Margaret of Anjou, daughter, of .Rene, king of. Sicily, ^aad niece of the kipg of Brance. She w,as a, princess of un- common resolution, and great penetration, bul entirely without fortune ; for W'hich,. it was,said 5 her other good, qualities were sufficient to atone. This maich the duke of Gloucester vainly op- posed ; the match went forw^ard, and the new queen shewed her resentment, by proving a for- mioable enemy, willing and able to xindo him. IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 173 She first began to reign with removing him from tlie council board. To palliate this pro- ceeding, persons were suborned to accuse him of cruelty and injustice: to these accusations he pleaded his ihnocence with such force of evi- dence, that the council, though consisting of his enemies, were obliged to acquit him. Still, how'ever, the queen bent upon his ruin, ordered I'lim to be apprehended, and accused before the parliament summoned for this purpose. As the people thought him innocent, it was expected he would come off now a? he had before; but on the day he vras to make his defence he was found dead in his bed, though without any signs oi violence upon his body» This death rendered the queen and the king equally odious, the queen especially was charged with the murder, and the dignity of her station only served to render her a more conspicuous object of reproach. - But what srili contributed to render the people discontented with the ad- ministration, was the indifferent success of their arms in France. Triumphs and conquests w^ere ever a means of repressing the discontents of the people; but the present government, to their quarrels at -home, added the misfortune of being defeated abroad. Up on the death of Henry V. the dauphin of France asserted his claim to the throne ot that kingdom under the title of Charles VII. Nothing could be more deplorable than his situation upon coming to the crown, of which he was only the nominal possessor : the English w^ere masters of almost all France. Henry VI was solethnlf invested with legal power, by legates from Parir. Tlie duke of Bedford, with a numerous army in the heart of the kingdom, confirmed his claim. 174 HISTORY OF E?JGLAND, and the duke of Burgundy was steady in tire English alliance. Wherever Charles attempted to lace the enemy, he vvaa overthrown > he eoulci scarcely rely on tiie friends next his' person, and his authority was insulted, even by his own ser- vants. In this situation, nothing bat miracu- lous assistance, or pretended miracles could save him. To the last expedient be had recourse, and it fully answered his intentions. The French, from a vanquished nation, are suddenly going to be victorious ; and the English who had hi- therto been deeutied invincible, are going to be every where worsted, andj at length, totally driven out of the kingdom- A gentleman on the frontiers of Lorrain, whose nanre was Baudricoun, was the person w-ht> first resolved to put this happy imposture into practice. He fixed upon the servant-maid ot an inn lot this purpose, and she was instructed at once to periorni the duties of a warrior and a pK-'phetess : this was Joan of Arc, tlie renowned ina;d oi Orleans ; a wuimnn of masculine strength and courage, pretending to be but eighteen, but in reality twenty-seven veais old- She equipped hcisdl in the arms and habit of a man, and it was given out that she was inspired : shi,- was brought beroie the king, examined by liie Dc'CWrs me, must raise factions. In this pe- riod of calamity, a new interest was revived, which seemed to have lain dormant in the times of prosperity and triumph; the duke of York began to think of asserting his right to the crown of England. This nobleman was descended, by the mother’s side, from Lionel, one of the sons of Edward III. The reigning king was de- scended from John of Gaunt, a son of the same Edward, but younger than Lionel: thus the duke of York^s claim was prior to that of Henry, 'i he ensign of the dr.ke was a white rose, tlsat of Henry a red. This gave name to the two houses, whose contentions were about to drench the kingdom with slaughter. ■s The 1 5 / S E R r E’S' OF ' L E T T E R S'T ' 17 7 . The duke of Sufici'k and the queen were now at the head of affairs, and *rhan aged all things with unlimited authority. >*■ As he had rrade his way to power by the blood of Gloucester, he was resolved to establish himself by the usual resources of tyranny, by cruelty to his inferiors, and flattery to the queen. This uniust and ill*' managed power first drew' against him the oppo- sition of the duke of York: perhaps the cause of the public was the only motive for his' first re- sistance. Almost every malecontent has some real, and some fictitious causes of complaint: he therefore had recourse to parliamept, and accused the duke of Suffolx, as the source of all the nation’s disgraces in France. This accuslttion might have been false, but the veal motive, which was Suffolk’s power, and the cruel use’ he made of it, was left unmentioned, although it was true. The court, to content the people, con- demned him to banishment,: and he embarked in a little vessel to take his passage to France; but he could not escape his destiny. - He wa.s met in his passage by an English man of war ; the captain, having a mind to search the ship the duke was in, and, finding him there, ordered his head to be cut olf without further delay. There is little in the transactions of these time ', to interest Us on the side of either party ; we see crimes on both sides, atrd scarce a shining cha^* racter or a virtue to animate the narrative. By the death of the duke oi SuiTolk, his nval, of York, saw himself rid ol a potent eneniy, and found the discontents of the people againt»s the administration daily increase. Among thu insurrections of these unhappy times was thaj headed by Jack Cade, who led a tumultuous body of forces to London, to retiress their grievances, and there beheaded the Lord Treasurer. The goremmen* HISTORY OF ENGLAND, government might readily perceive the disafTec- tion of the populace, by Ins reception froTn the cityot London, who opened their gates to him : however, upon the king’s proclamation, his ad- herents, ii5 a dav nr two, w^eve dispersed, and he himself taken and fn the mean time tiie duke oF York secretly fomented these disturb- .. ances, and, pretending to espouse the cause of vhe peopY, wrote to the king from his retreat irv Yvaies, advising a reformation in the ministry^ His letters of etspostulation were sfron backed hy an army; he marched up to Lomlon, but louncF an unexpected repulse from the city, wliichshut its gates oprm him. In this dilemma, heoflered to disband his army, if the duke of Somerset, who was at that time the envied oltjcct in power, should he sent to the Tower : this request was. stenQiOgly compl'ed v.hth, contrary to his expec-- ration : and now coming to court to accuse him in person, he was suipiised to see the duke of viSoiuerser, who was hid behind the hangings, 'sm derdy tome forth, and retort the accusatioii upon him. ork now perceived liis danger, and repressea the impetuosity of his accusation. As soon as he left the presence, ,the king com- iTianoed him to be appiehended ; but such was the duke’s •auihopity, or such the timidity of the kii-p’s council, that they suffered him to retire,, up. n promising strict obedience tor the future. Tins recorediatioa was only temporary : he sriil aspired to the crown, and, the king falling lii, by his intrigues he had sufficient art to be taKcn into the numlier ol the privy council'. T-'his was a fatal blow to Henry ’’s interest: the duke of \oTk, non- let into a share of the authority, cnci sccuic of the affections of the people-, cai- TN A SERIES OF LETTE'RS. 1 jg ried all before him. The dake nf Somerset was sent to the tower, and the pariiament declareci his lival, protector of the realm. This pow to liimseif that of protector, in which consisted . all the power of the crown.' Ifcnry was- now bat a prisoner, treated with'; the forms of royalty; yet, indolent and sickly ; as he was, the title alone seemed sufficient for hhn. Ac. last, his friends induced once more to re-assert his prerogative, the duke of- York . again retired, to resist the designs of the queen. . Mutual distrust once more brought their . arm.5 •: to the field, and the fate of the kirjgdom was to be decided by the sword- On the- king’s side, the queen seemed the only acting general : she - ranged the army in battalia, gave t'he ncGessary ■ orders, while the poor king was Je. l abour, bom place to place, an involuntary spectator of those inariial preparations. The array on the oppo- site, l8o AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, Ete side was, in the absence of the duke of York, commanded by the earl of Warunck, the most celebrated General of his age a man formed for times of trouble ; extremely artful, and ex- tremely brave ; equally skilful in the council and the field ; and born to give and take away king- doms at pleasure. After m,any battles without effect, and designs without consequence, both armies, at last, met on a plain near Northamp- ton: the queen’s army consisted of five-and- twenty thousand men,- the army of Warwick, of forty tbousa rid. Never was greater animosity, between the chiefs of any atmy before; both pretending to figiit fo-r the king, whose autho- jity they equally attempted to destroy. While the queen went about frosn rank to rank, the - staid in his tent, waitiitg the issue of the battle witli female doubts and apprehensions. Both sides fought five hours with the utmost ob- stinacy, but the good fortune of the earl of Warw.ck w’Hs superior to that of the queen ; i'he was conqueicd, and had the misfortune to see pbe king taken prisoner in his tent. Thus Henry was once more brought back in truimph to h'"s capital. A parliaia.Uit wcas now called to give a face to tliis successful rebellion. The duke of York, though formerly contented with the title of pro- tector now claimed the crown. Our prospects widen as w^e rise. Tire cause of Plenry and the dukewas solemnly debated in the house of peers ; each side produced their reasons for or against the conqueror. This was the first time that a tme spirit of libei ty ever appeared to exert irrelf lii England, and in which victory did not deter- mine every enquiry. The duke of York, though a could nor entit^ly gain his cause : IN A SERIES OF LETTER?. Igt it was determined that Henry should possess the throne during life, and that the duke of York should be his successor, to the utter seclusion of the prince of Wales. The queen, to all appearance, seemed now utterly destitute of every resou'ce ; but though she had lost all, she vet retained her native per- severance and intrepidity. She was a woman of a great mind, and some faults ; but ambi- tion seemed to be what called them into action. ^ Being now a fugitive, distant from the capital, opposed by a victorious army, and a consum- mate general, she still tried every resource to repair her disastrous circumstances : she flew to Wales, animated her old friends, acquired new, and raised an army to defend her cause. She, and her old enemy, the duke of York, once more met upon Wakefield Green, near the, castle of Sandal: fortune this day turned the victory on her side; the duke of York was slain ; the, duke of Rutland, his second son, fell ' in the fight: and the father’s head, being cut off, was, fixed upon the walls of York. Margaret, being now victorious, marched to- wards London, in order to give the king liberty. The earl of Warwick, who was now at the head of the Yorkists, still commanded an army, in which he led about the captive king, to give, a sanction to his attempt. Anotiier battle was to drench the kingdom with the blood of its in- habitants, the queen and the eari met near St. Albans, where the queen was once again victo- rious ; she had the pleasure to see the general, by whom she was once defeated, now fly in his turn; and what added to her glory, she had the fortune to release the king her husband from his captivity. Her triumph vvas great, though contaminated. l3-i A-N H'TSTORy OF;'EMGLAN-m contaminated with fruelty ; but it was of short continuance- The dry of London was to be gained, but Warwick had' already secured it in. liis interests: the citizens also feared her tumul- tuous army, and refused' to open their gates upon her summons. In the mean time, War- wick assembled the people at St. John^s fields, and shewing them the son of the late duke of Tosk, dematided, wh'etiier thev chose to have him or Henry lor their king Upon which the people cried out A York ! an assembly w'as quickly called, and the young, duke, being pre- sent, they elected him king, by the name of' Edward IV. and conducted him, with great ce- remony, to the palace where Fcnry used to ledge, wditn wuthin the w-alls of the city. In the mean time queen Margaret collected a great army in the north, amounting to sixty.: thousand men at arms. She was now to strike her strongest blown The command of this army T. as given, to a person who acted under her di- rections. On the other side, Warwick con- ducted young Edward, at the head of forty- thousand men, to oppose her. Both sides, at length, met near Santon, Jn the county of York. Never was, England dsr p''.pulated by -so terrible a day. What a dreadiul sight to bthok_i almost an hundred thousaiid rrren, of the same cmatry, fighting to satisiy the empty ambi- tion of one or two weak and empty wretches, , murdering each other for an idiot and a bov : the contest only which should wiear a crown with diamonds, or wield a gewgaw^- sceptre. .. Strange infatuation ! yet; such as it was, not l .’SS than forty thousand men were left dead upon the field, in assertsng this dispute. Warwick, gained a complete victory :, E'd ward IV. , was established on the throne, and ' Margaret of • Anjou IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 183 Aniou was abandoned. She fled for protec- tion to Scotland, with her son and husband, in order to attempt new designs for the recovery of her kingdo-n, Edward now rook down the head of his farbev from the wails of York, and put up the heads of the conquered generals in its stead. Each paitv, as it har>- pened to be victorious, thus called in the exe- cutioner to complete the tragedy begun in the field ; and our cruelty to each other, in civil discords, is what has impressed loreigners with an idea of English eruelty. Though wretched as this reign was, yet the art of priming,, which was intrc^duced into it at that time seemed to make amends for a part of its calamities. William Caxton, a mercer was the first who practised the ai't at London ; he translated some books himself from the French,, and printed the translatio!:s of other-. Among the wmitets of that time were Lord Fi- ve, is and earl Tiptolt,. whose labours, however, never ventured higher than translation I'o jmige of the learning of those times by the works of the laity in the vulgar tongue, ve shall entertain the most despicable opinion of it ; yet, when I read the Latin productions of some af the priests of that period, I cannot avoid al- lowing, the authors no small share of erudition. The truth is, learning w’as sepaiated from the purposes of comtnon life at that time, but by no means unknown or neglected by the clergy, as w’e are taught to believe by men, who seem very little acquainted with writers of that period. LETTER Aiy HISTORY OF ENGLAND^ 184 LETTER XXIV, W HICH ever side was victorious in these times of civil slaughter, it was always ready to confirm its iniustice with the shew of authority. The pariiament usually followed the conqueror, and fixed him upon the throne, when he had an army to back his pretensions. Ed'ward was, immediately upon his victory, confirmed by their unanimous approbation, while Henry and queen were to seek for new ^ resources in France and Scot- land. No calamity wasable to abate Margaret’s perseverance: though so often overcome, yet she w^as once more resolved to enter England with five thousand men, granted her by the French king, bringing the unfortunate Henry wlth.-her to enforce her claims. Hei usual ill fortune at- tended her ; her little fleet was dispersed by a tempest, and she herself entered the Tweed-- with no small difficulty. Again, however, she otfered her enemy battle, and w^s again cle-^ leated, near Hexham. The loss of this battle seemed to deprive her of every resource: she and her husband w^ere now obliged to find salety in a separate flight, wirhout attendants, and without even the necessaries of life. Tiie weak, unfortunate monarch, almost always im- prudent, and consequently unsuccessful, thought he could' lie concealed in England ; his error was soon attended with the obvious consequen- ces ; he was taken prisoner, carried to London with ignominy, and confined in the Tower. Margaret was rather more fortunate ; for she escaped, with the dukes of Somerset and Exe- ter, out of the kingdom, and retired to her fa- . ther, who, though very poor, strove, as well IN A SERIES or LETTERS. as he could, to supply her with the mere neces- saries of life. You are not to suppose the mi- series of the great, at those tiines, were ficti- tious, as we find them at present ; they, in rea- lity, endured every calamity that poverty now inflicts on the obscurest of wretches. Philip de Coroines says, that he saw the duke of Exeter following the duke of Burgundy's equipage,- barefoot, and serving for his livelihood as foot- man. This was a strange situation for a lord, who had conducted armies, and was allied to kings and princes: but the times were barba- rous ; the princes on the coast of Negroland ex- perience such reverses of fortune at this very day. Edward, being now. bv means of Warwick, .'O''-'.' ^ fixed upon the throne, reigned in peace and se- curity. A spirit of gallantry reigned in his court, mixed with cruelty, which seemed the distinguishing feature of those times of discord. In the very same palace which one day smoked with blood, a pageant or a mask appeared the day following; and the king wmuld at once gal- lant a mistress and inspect an execution. ■As his amours, however, were likely to dis- satisfy his subjects, the earl of V/arwiek advised him to marry ; and, with his consent, went over to France to procure him Bona of Savoy, and the match was accordingly, by bis means concluded. But while the earl tvas hastening the negotiation in France, the king himself put an effectual stop to it at home, by inarrving Elizabeth Woodville, with whom he had fallen in love, and whom he had v'ainly strove to de- bauch. Having thus given Warwick real cause of offence, he was resolved to widen the breach by driving him from the council. We are apt to hate the man we have offended, as much as the i86 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, the man who has offended us ; Edward was no sooner established in security by Warwick, than he began to be ungrateful. Warwick, whose prudence was equal to his bravery, soon made use oi both to asist his revenge ; he seduced Clarence the king’s brother, and to confirm him in his interests, made him his son-in-law; ar.d now, findmg his plot ready lor execution, he iiies into open rebellion. Vengeance seemed to be the only motive he had in view; plots, truces, stratagems and negociations, followed each other in a rapid succession. But Warwick, long ac- quainted with intrigue and dissimulation, was at last, too subtile for the young king ; inviting him by a seeming promise of composition, to his house he threw Edward of his guard ; and Warwick, seizing the opportunity, made him a prisoner. Nothing now appeared that could oppose Warwick’s designs ; he therefore disbanded his- troops as unnecessary, and Edw'ard was con- signed to the custody of the Archbishop of "York. But soon an accident happened that overthrew all Warwick’s expectations : Edward’s- behaviour, in confinem.ent, was so very oblig- ing, that he got leave upon some occasions, to hunt in a park adjoining to the place of his con- finement ; from thence he one day made his escape, by the assistance of a couple of his friends, and, contrary to^all expectation instantly repaired to York. Fortune seemed to declare for Edward ; w here- fore marching some troops to London, the citi- zens immediately declared in his lavour. It is surprising to think, how one party is seen this day at the; head of a numerous forces, wuhile the next W’e behold It abandoned, and the adverse party triumphing without a rival ; a strong proof IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. JS7 proof of the fluctuating dispositions of the En- glish. Edward now commanded a numerous ar- my, while Warwick, ai^d his brother Clarence, were attended by a , few. The king, resolringto take the advantage of their weakness, after hav- ing deieat.ed a p?.rty commanded by lord Wells, and cut off his bend, the usual method of treat- ing the prisoners of either party,' he marched to give them battle. In this exigence they had no other course to take, but to embark, in order to screen themselves from impending danger. Having arrived safely in France, they now were reconciled to queen Margaret, their former ene« my : and, returning from France, Warwick once more saw himself at the head of no less than sixty thousand men. It was now become Edw’ard's turn to fly the kingdom, and escaping the dasigerof the enemy^ o‘i’ the sea, and of the pirates, he landed safely in Holland. V/arwick, in the mean time, ad- vanced to London, and once more, poor, pas- sive Henry was released from prison, and placed upon an useless throne. Warwick was received, among tbe people, by name the of king-njaker ; a parliament was called, and Henry’s right confirmed. Edward, though an exile in Holland, had many partisans at home ; and after an absence of about nine months, once more landed at Ravenrpur, where Ilei.ry IV. had landed upon a similar occasion. Though at first he was coldly received by the English, yet his army in- creased upon its march, and his moderation and feigned humility still added to the nuinb^r of his partisans. London at this time ever ready to admit the most povveiful, opened her gates. l88 AN HISTORY OP ENCLANB, and Henry was again taken from bis throne to be sent back to his old mansion. Warwick at last found his party begin to de- cline, and Clarence, the king’s brother, on whom: he had the greatest' dependence, changed to the other side. In this stare of uncertainty, he knew no other expedient than to hazard a bat- tle : he knew his forces to be inferior, but he was conscious of the superiority of his- owm ge- neralship. With this resolution he marched from St. Albar/s, and having advanced to Ear- net, within ten miles of London, he met Ed- w'ard, who was marching down with a design to fight him. Warwick and Edward were the two most renowned generals of their age, and now was to be struck the decisive blow, that was either to fix Edward on the throne, or to over- throvr his pretentions for ever. The unfortu* nate Henry was dragged along to be a spectator of the engagement : happy in his natural imbe- cillity, which seemed to opiate all his afflictions. The battle began early in the morning, and lasted till noon : never did two armies fight with greater obstinacy and bravery y not honour, but life, depended upon the issue of the contest. The example of W'arwick inspired his troops with more than common, resolution \ and the victory for a while, seemed to declare for him : but his army, by reason of a slight mist, hap- pened to mistake a body of their osvn forces for that of the enemy, fell furiously upon them, and this fatal error turned the fortune of the day. Warwick did all that experience, con- duct, or valour, could suggest, to retrieve the mistake, but in vain. Finding tlserefore, all hopes gone, he was resolved to sell h s life dearly to IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 189 to the conquerors ; and rushing, on foot as he was, into the midst of his enemies, he fell covered all over with wounds. Thus died the ambitious Warwick, who had made and unmade kings at pleasure, yet who never seemed to as- pire at regal dignity himself. Ten thousand of his army shared the same fate with him, the king having ordered that no quaiter should be 'given Margaret, wdio was ever fruitful in resources, was, at this time returning from France, with her son the prince of Wales, wdiere she had been negociating a new supply. She had scarce time to refresh herself from the fatigues of her voyc age, when she received the fatal new^s of th -death of the brave Warwuck, who was then her only defender. Tho’ she had hitherto bravely withstood all the attacks of fortune, this w'as too violent a shock tor nature to support: her grief now, for the first time, found yvay in a torrent of tears ; and, yielding to her unhappy fate, she took sanctuary in an abbey in Hampshire She had not been here long, when she found some new friends still willing to assist her fallen hopes. The duke of Somerset, the earl of Pembroke, and one or two lords more, came to offer her then* lives and fortunes : a dawn of hope was sufficient to raise her courage, and her numerous misfortunes gave way to the flattering prospect of another trial. She had now fought battles in almost every province in England. Tewkesbary-park was the last scene that termi- nated her attempts, 'i'he duke of Somerset headed her army: a man who had shared her dangers, and had ever been steady in her cause. He was valliant, generous, and polite, but rash and 190 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, and headstrong. When Edward first attacked him in his entrenchments, he repulsed him with such vigour, tint the enemy retired with preci- pitation': Somerset, supposing them routed, im- mediately pursued, and ordered Lord Wenlock ■to support him, w'hile he charged ; but this Lord disobeyed fiis injunctions, and the forces, of Somerset were overpowered by numbers. Somerset, now, finding all gone, was unable to govern his rage : he had depended hpon Wen- lock ; but when he beheld him inactive, in the very place where he had drawn up his men j giving way to his transport, with his heavy bat- ran upon tle-ax in both hands, he the coward, and with one blow^ das- ed out his brains. After the battle, the queen, torpid with griefs, was taken prisoner, and afterwards had the misery of finding her son, the prince of Wales, in the same condition. But this noble youth was not long in bondage : being brought into the victor’s presence, he appeared before him with undaunted majesty. Edward, surprised at the boy’s behaviour, asked him how he durst enter into his tlominions without leave? 1 have entered intd the dominions of my father y replied the prince to revenue his injuries and to redress my ozitn. The barbarous monarch eniaged at his intrepidity, struck him on the . mouth with his gauntlet: this seemed to be the signal for his death ; Glou- cester, Clarence, and others, like wild beasts rushing upon the unarmed youth at once, stab- bed him to the heart with their daggers. When the governors of the kingdom behave thus, what must be the behaviour of the people ? To com- plete the tragedy, Henry himself, w'ho had long been the passive spectator of all these cruelties, was IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 191 now thought unfit to live. The duhe of Gloucester, afterwards named Richard IlL or the Ciouch-back, entered his chamber ahme, and n u dered him in cold blood, Of all those that were taken, none were suffered to survive but Margaret. It was, perhaps, expected that she would be ransomed by the king of France; and in this they were not deceived. Lewis XI. paid the king of England -fifty thousand crowns for her freedom. Thus Margaret of Anjou, hav- ing sustained the cause of her husband in twelve ■battles, after having survived her fortune and her children, died a few^ years after in privacy in Fiance, very miseiable indeed, but with no other claims to our pity, except her courage and distresses. Of all people the English are the most com- passionate : a throne raised upon cruelty never wanted enemies among them, and nothing could ever have been moie ridiculous, than attempt- ing to govern such subjects as the English by the •hanj of the tx cutioner. The heads of either faction seemed to have been insensible of this truth, and it was their ill judged punishments wdiich, by turns, plunged them into new dis- tresses. A tyrant, however, when once drenched in blood, knows not when to give over. Edward being now" fieed from great enemies, turned to the punishment of those of lesser note ; the gib- bets were hung wntl! his adversaries, .and their estates confiscated to his use. Yet, while he was thus rendering himself ter- rible on the one hand, he was immersed in gal- lantry on the other. Nature, it seems, was not unfavourable to him in this respect, for be was universally allowed to be the most beautiful man of his time. 7"he court seemed whiling to coun- tenance AN HISTORY OF ^ENGLAND, tenance these debau-cheries in which tbey had'a share ; and the clergy, as they themselves prac- ticed every species of lewdnes® with impunity, were ever ready to lend absolution to all his fail- ings. The truth is, enormous vices had. been of late so common, that adultery was; held but a very slight offence : -among the number of his mistresses w^as the wife of one Shore, a woman of exquisite beauty- and good sense, but who had not virtue enough to withstand the temptation^ of a beautiful man and a monarch. England now* enjoying a tenvporary calm, the king thought the best way to ingiatiate himself with the people W'as to assert his right to his do- mainsdn France, which the isnsunections of- his father had contributed to alienate in the former reign : this proposal was sure of pleasing the English, who ever appeared more fond-of splen- did than useful acquisitions. To prosecute this scheme therelore, he sent off to Iris ally the dukfe of Burgundy, a reinforcement of three thousand men, and soon after passed' over himself at the head of a numerous army*, -Lewis XI. then king of France, was w ith reason, alarmed at this formidable invasion : he found himself un- able to resist so powerful an antagonist, and therefore had recourse to treaty. This succeed- ed better than arms. The tw'o kings' had an in * terview at the bridge of Perpignan, and, upon the payment of a stipulated sum, Edward led his forces back to England. The English king wanted- to return home' to his mistresses, to spend upon them the money he had gotten-; and the French monarch hoped to be able to refuse those sums, which he had only given a promise toipay. Edward returned to renew his cruelty and his excesses. His brother Clarence, who' had assist- ed IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 193 eJ him in gaining the crown, had been, for some time, treated with indifference and dis- respect-: this Clarence thought an ill recompence for his former services, and often gave himself the liberty of invective in the king’s absence. In this posture of things, the king happened to kill a favourite deer belonging to Master Tho- mas Burdet, a friend of the duke ; poor Burdet dropping some hasty expressions against the king, was sentenced to die, and executed in two days after. The duke of Clarence, upon rhe death of his friend, vented his grief in renewed re- proaches against his brother : the king, unmind- ful of the ties of kindred, or the debt of grati- tude by which he was bound, had him arraign- ed, condemned, and executed; he was smo- thered in a but of Malmsey wine. When men arrive at a certain station of greatness, their minds are dissipated on top great a number of objects to feel parental affection ; the ties of nature are only strong with those who have but few friends or few dependents. The rest of Edward’s life was spent in riot and debauchery; in gratifications that are pleas- ing only to the narrow mind ; in useless treaties, in which he was ever deceived ; and in empty threats against the monarch who had deceived him. Elis parliament, now merely the minister of his will, coOvSented to a war with France, at a time when it was impossible it could succeed : all the lords unanimously declared, that they thougt it both just and necessary. The peo- ple seemed equally pleased at the prospect of a war, which might in some measure, alleviate their domestic calamities. Great pre- parations were made on every side ; but Ed- ward died in tiie ntidst of all his expectations. VoL. I. ‘ K The 194 HISTORY OF ENGLAND, The character of this prince is easily summed up : his good qualities were courage and beauty i his bad qualities— every vice. LE*TTER XXV. Horrid as the last reign was, you must prepare for events in the next, still more heinous. Edward left two sons, the eldest of whom, a boy between twelve and thirteen, was proclaimed king, by the name of Edward V. The queen, d n Q mother, being herself newly raised among the nobility, seemed willing to hide the meanness of her former con- dition among the number of new promotions; this as might naturally be expected, was dis- pleasing to the old nobility ; and the duke of Gloucester, a monster both for the cruelty of his heart, and the deformity of his body, fo- mented their discontents. Having gained over Lord Hastings, thc' duke of Buckingham and some other lords to his interests, he made them a long speech, tending to shew the danger that hung over their heads, if the queen should have the government in her hands: he enlarged upon the usurpations of her family, and the lengths 'they would be apt to run, upon being invested with the supreme power. In short, he spared neither dissim.ulation nor artifice, nor oaths, to get the guardianship of the minority, ■ and the ‘ custody of the king’s person. His first step, after being declared protector •cf the kingdom, was to get the king’s brother also, a boy of about seven, who, with the queen ' his mother, had taken sanctuary in Westminister- abbey. The queen foresaw the dangers which theciitened her family ; and parting with her child. IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. ^ 9 ^ dilld, clasped him, with the last embiace, to her breast, and took leave of him with a shower of tears. The dake of Gloucester, on the other hand, took his nephew in his arms, and, clasping him with feigned affection, declared, that while he himself was alive, the child should never want a parent. The young king, finding that he was to have the pleasure of his brother’ s’ company, was greatly rejoiced, without consider- ing the fatal intentions of these preparations. ■ A few days after, the protector, upon a pre- text of guarding them from danger, conveyed them both to the Towner. Having thus secured their persons, the pro- , tectors’s next step was, to spread a report of their illegitimacy ; and, by pretended obstacles, to put off the day of the young king’s corronation* Lord Stanley, a man of deep penetration, w^a* the first to disclose' his fears of the protector’s having ill designs : he communicated his suspi- cions to lord Ifastings, wlio was firmly attached to the young king. Perhaps this Lord’s wishes that such a project might not be true, influenc- ed his judgment, and confirmed him in his se- curity. Soon, however, Catesby, a vile creature of the protector’s, was sent to sound him, and try whether he could be brought over to the side W’lth the projected usurpation; Hastings ap- peared immoveable in his adherence to the king, and his death was theicfore resolved on. With this design, the protector next day cal- led a council in the Tower, under the pretence of expediting the coronation. He came thither himself at nine o’clock in the morning, with a chearful countenance, saluting the members with tlie utmost affability, and with deittonstra- K z tion? ig6 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, tions of unusual good humour ; then going oat for a short time, he desired his absence might not interrupt the debates. In about an hour he returned again, quite altered, knitting his brows biting his lips, and shewing by frequent altera- tions in his looks, some inward perturbation. A silence ensued for some time, and the lords looked upon each other, not without reason, ex- pecting some dreadful catastrophe. At length hs broke the dreadful silence. J\dy Lords ^ he said, what punishment do they deserve who have conspired against my life P This redoubled the astonishment of the assembly, and the silence continued, lord Hastings at length made answer. That whosoever did so, deserved to be punished as a traitor : upon which the protector, with a stern countenance, baring his witheied arm, cried out, tSee zuhat the sorceress my queen-sister and that wretch^ Shore's V/ife^ hove done hy their ’wirchcrafts ! Their spells have reduced my arm to this condition., and my zvhole lody would, have suffered the same calamity, hut for a timely detecti- on. The amazement of the council seemed to increase at this terrible accusation, and Lord Hastings again said. If they have committed such a crime, they deserve punishment. If ! ciied the protector, with a loud voice; Lost thou answer me with I F s .^ / tell thee, that they have conspired my death, and that thou, traitor, art an accomplice in -their crime. Thus having said, he struck the tab’e twice w'lth his hand, and the room was instantly filled with aimed m.en. I arrest thee, continues he, turning to for high trea- / and, at the same time, delivered him to the custody of the soldiers. The council room w-as now filled with tu- siiuii, and, though no rtscae wavS offered, yet the TN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 197 the soldiers caused a bustle, as if they appre- hended danger. One of them narrowly missed cleaving Lord Stanley’s head with a battle-ax, but he escaped by shrinking under the table. In all probability, the fellow had orders for the attempt; so that, when Stanley should be tlius killed, his death might be ascribed to the tu- mult caused by an intended rescue. However, escaping the blow, he was arrested by the pro- lector’s order, who was well apprised of his at- tachment to the young king. As for lord Ha5t- ings, he was forced to maVie a short confes‘«;oii to the next priest that was at hand ; the pro- tector crying out, by St. Paul, that he would not dine till he had seen his head taken off. He was accordingly hurried out to the little green before the 7'ower chapel, and beheaded on a log of wood that accidentally lay there. But not those alone of his council .were thus barbarously treated: on the very same day a similar tragedy rvas acted on Pontefract castle, where the earl Rivers, the most polished and gal- lant man of ihe age in which he lived, and lord Grey were both beheaded by a decree of, that very same council, the members of which were now in such danger themselves. A plot again.-t the king was the pretext of their execution ; but, in reality, they died as being the only ob- stacles to prevent his destruction. The protector, having thus got rid of tliose he most feared, undertook to punish even the least dangerous ; Jane .Shore, the late king’s mis-, tress, was an enemy too humble lor him to fear any thing from her attempts, yet as she iiad beeri accused of witchcraft, of which ail tire world saw she was innocent, he thougiit proper to pu- nish her for faults of which she was ready ( ■ AW HISTORY OF ENGL.AKK^ J9S ty. -'I'his unhappy woman had been deluded iormerly irom her husband, one Shore, a gold ■ smith, in Lombard- Street, and continued with Ldward the most guiltless naistress in his luxuri- ous and abandoned court : she ever interceded for the distressed, and was ever applied to as a mediator for mercy. She was charftable, gene- rous, and pleasing in conversation ^ her wit and her beauty were said to be irresistable. Being blameless in. other respects, the protector order- ed her to be sued for incontinency, for having left heriiusband to live in rsdultery with another. It is possible, that the people were not displeased at seeing again reduced to her former meannees, a person who had for a while being raised above them and enjoyed all the favours of the king. Her guilt was too notorious to be denied ; she acknowledged'the charge, and M’as condemned 10 walk Irarefoot through the city, and to do pe nance in St. Paul’s church in a white sheet, with a wax taper in her hand, before thousands of spectators. She lived. above forty years after this sentence, reduced to tl.e most extreme wretch- edness. An historian, in tb.e reign, of Kenry VII. assures us, that he saw her gathering herbs in a field near the city, to supply her niglitly meal ; a strange employment for one who once had been the favourite of a court, and the mis- tress of a king. The protector now began to lay aside his pre- tended regard for the son.s of the late king, and TO aspire to the throne more openly. To elTect this, tlie duke of Buckingham, who by promi- ses and bribes was devoted to his interests, tried every art to infuse into tlie people an opinion of the has tardy of the late king, and that of ids children- Hr. Shaw, a popular preacher, was ■ hired IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 199 bird to harangue the people from St. Paul’s cross to the same purpose. The preacher, after ha ving displayed the incontinence of the queen, insisted upon the illegalty of the young king’s* title, and the virtues of the protector. It is he^ continued the sycophant, who carries in his face, in his soul, the image of virtue, and the marks of a true descent. Still, however, the people con- tinued silent, each fearing to begin theory of King Richard, or detesting the tendency of his sermon. The duke of Buckingham, therefore, next undertook to persuade them in his turn. Ilis speech turned upon the calamities of true last reign, and the bastardy of the present pre- tender. He seerned apprehensive, indeed, that the protector could not be prevailed upon -10 accept the crown, but he hoped that the people would take every method to persuade him. He concluded by desiring every man to speak his real sentiments and to give a positive answer, whether they would have the young bastard or the virtuous protector.? A silence for some time ensued ; hut at length, some of the dukes own servants, who had slipped in among rise pres=, , cried out, long live king Richard ! This cry was seconded by some of the citizens who wei'e pre- viously bribed ; and the mob at the door, a de?:- picable class of people, ever pleased witli novelty repeated the cry, and throwing up their cap-, cried out, A Richard ! A Richard I Tiie duke, now taking advantage of this faint npprobatitin, next day at the head of the mayor and nidermen, went to wait upon the protector with ofl'ers of the crown. Richard with ,hiND, / that their business was to offer him the crown^ he declined accepting it, alledging his love for the late king his brother, and his affection for the children under his care. Buckingham, seemed displeased with this answer, muttered some words to himself, and at length plainly told him, that all the people had determined upon making him king; that they had now proceeded too- far to recede, and therefore were resolved in'case of his refusal, to offer it where it should meet with a more ready acceptance. This was a resolution which the protector’s tenderness for his “people could not permit him to see executed. I see^ cried he, in a modest tone, 1 see the kingdom is resolved to load ??ie zvith preferments, unequal id my abilities or my choice ; yet since it is my duty tc obey the dictates of a free people, I will gracious- ly accept their petition. /, therefore, from this mo- memt, enter upon the government of England and Erance, with a reiolution to defend the one and to subdue the other. The crowd being thus dismis- f Z) I S ’ returned homcj pondered 4 upon the proceedings of the day, and making such remarks, as passion, interest, or prudence might suggest. One crime ever draws on others : for, usurpa- tion naturally requires securiry ; as soon, there- fore, as he w as fixed upon the throne, Richard sent tlie governor of the Tower orders to put the two young princes to death. There was yet one man left in tlie kingdom wdio had virtue enough to refuse being made ihe instrument of a tyrant’s cruelty: the governor of the tower, whose name was Blackenbuiy, submissively answered, that he would not imbrue his hands in their blood. A fit instrument, however, was not long want- ing : one James Tyrrell, was employed, and eat IN A SERIES -OF LETTERS. Jol sent to command the tower for one night. Ty- rellj that very night, whilst all were asleep, went to the chamber where the two young princes lay : here the murderer, for some time, hesitat- ed in his base design, struck, as it is said, with the innocence of their looks ; bur, habit getting the better of remorse, he at last smothered them between two pillows, and caused them to b©' buried under little staircase, near where thej'- iay. Vengeance, though late, followed this ex- ecrable wretch : he was executed for this fact in the succeeding reign, confessing his crime, and the manner of its execution. The warlike spirit first excited by the conquest of France, and then- kept up by the long civiF war, seemed to have banished every sentiment of virtue from the kingdom : cruelty and exe- cutions were grown so common, that the peo- ple now became lamiliar with blood and death ; scarce a noble family in the kingdom which was not thined by these terrible dissentions. The clergy seemed, at this time, quite separated from the laity they seldom suffered for treason, and were but little conversant in the bloody politics of the times. As for arts, sciences, and com- merce, they were totally neglected. In all this carnage and desolation, one power was imper- ceptibly gaining ground ; as the lords were de- clining, the commons were coming into autho- rity: not so much exposed as the former to the tempests of regal resentment, they continued to increase in wealth and favour, and found safety in their humble station. K3 LETTER 50 2 , AN HISTORY OF FNGLANB, LETTER XXVL T . . A HERE is somewhat that peculiarly strikes imagination in the transactions of this and nreceding reicn : I have therelore treated . -I ^ o ^ ^ with more than usual prolixity- Our tra- gte poets seem to have been sensible how raucii these strange in.-Jtances of depravation were sus- ceptible of a poetic address. Every picture of the times is marked with strong lines, like an African prospect, where all is vast, wild, and terrible. Richard had, at length, waded through every obstacle to the throne, and now began, after the usual manner of all usurpers, to /strengthen, by his ill-got power, his foreign alliances. Sensi- ble also of the iniluence of pageantry and shew upon the minds of the people, he caused him- self to be crowned Erst at London, and rhen at Y o! k. The clergy, he endeavoured, to secure in his interests, by great indulgences to them, and by his own hypocritical behaviour. But, while lie endeavoured to establish his power, he found it undermining on a side from whence he least expected it : liie duke of Buck- ingham, who had been the principal instrument in placing him on the throne, now began to expect the reward of his adherence. R'chard, indeed, had given him several posts and govern- ^nents, but denied him a moiety of the confis- cated lands of Hereford, to which he had soine Ei-mily claims.. Very great obligations between tw^o friends, on eitkier side, generally end in dis- gust : Buckingham supposed that his services could never be over-rewarded i while Richard, on the contrary, was willing to curb his. desires, wiiich IN A' SERIES OF LETTERS. 203 'which seemed to increase by gratification. Soon, tlierefore, the duke was disgusted with the new' monarch, and as soon conceived a scheme for depriving him of the crown ; doubtful for a while, whether he should put in for the crown himself, or set up another. The latter opinion' prevailed, and he was resolved to declare for Henry, earl of Richmond, then an exile in Bre~» tagne. Henry, of Richmond, was one of those who had thc'good fortutie to survive the nume- rous massacres of the preceding reigns : he was the only remaining branch of the house of Lan- caster ; he was descended from John of Gaunt, but by the female line ; his right to the throne was very doubtlul, but the crimes of the usurper strengthened his claims. He had long lived in ex- ile, and urns once delivered up to the ambassa- dors of Edward IV. and was iust upon the point of being brought back to England, to suffer a cruel death ; when the prince, who had delivered him. up, repented what he had done, and toofc • him from the ambassadors just as he was brought * on ship-board. This wm.s the youth whom the duke of Buckinham pitched upon to dethroiive • the tyrant, and a negociation was commenced between them for that purpose. Richard, in' the mean time, either informed by his creatures, or made distrustful by consci- ous guilt, suspected a conspiracy, and could not avoid thinking Buckingham among the number of the conspirators. Impressed with these sus- picions,, he came to a resolution of sending for him to court, and the duke’s refusing to come confirmed him in his belief ; Tut he liad soon a ' plain conviction of his treachery ; for word was brought that the duke of Buckingham w^as up in arms. The duke, having found that he could dissemble with Richard no longer, had drawn together 204 AN HISTORY OF ENGLA.N P, together some Welch forces, and began to march to the western shore, where he had appointed young Richmond to land : Richard, however, no way dismayed at the approaching danger, prepared to meet him with the. few forces lie had then in readiness. However, fortune^seem- ed to favour the usurper, and rendered his pre- parations for this time needless. As Buckingham w^as advancing, by hasty marches, towards Glou- cester, whero he designed to pass the Severn, iust then the river was swollen to such a degree th.at the country on both sides was deluged, and even the tops of the mountains covered with water. It lield ten days, during which the Welch army could neither pass the river, nor subsist on the other side, where they found no- thing but desolation : at length compelled by hunger, after having suffered a thousand hard- ships, they ail dispersed, and returned home, notwithstanding the dukes entreaties to the con- titiry. In this helpless situation, the duke, iif- ter a moments reflection, thought the propcrest place of safety he could fix upon, was at the bouse of one Bannister, who had been his ser- vant, and who had received repeated obligations from his family. No maxim was ever more than ihat there is no friendsliip among 'he wick- ed : Buckingliaui hah himself been first false tp ills king, and alter to Pvichard, the creature pi his own power ; how then could he expect ■fidelity from otl.ers r A large reward was set upon the duke’s itead : the villain Bannister, un- able to resist so great a temptation, went and betrayed his master to the slierriff of Shropshire, vi b.o, surrounded the heuse willi armed men, the duke in a peasant'a dress, and conduct- ed IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 20^ ed him to Shrewsbury, where he was beheaded, without the form of a trial or delay. In the mean time, Richmond landed in Eng- land, but finding his hopes frustrated by the ca- tastrophe of Buckinham, he ha'^tiiy set sail again, and returned to Bretagne. Richard thus freed from the impending danger, gave a loose to cruelty, the favourite passion of his breast. In order to expedite his revenge, he gave one Ashton an unbounded commission to condemn and execute, upon the spot, such as were deem- ed by him guilty, or even suspected of guilt. A cruel king never wants a bloody minister : Ashton executed his commission with the utmost rigour, putting husbands to death in presence (>f their own wives, and children before the eyes oT tlieir parents. It is said, that this execrable wretch, being solicited by a beautiful woman to release her husband, who was a prisoner upon suspicion, he consented, upon her promising to grant him a favour of another nature: scarce had the poor creature indulged his brutal desire, ^vhen he brought her out, and pointed to her husband, whom in the mean time, he had given orders should be hanged upon a neighbouring tree ! . Still, however, the authoiity of a parliament was wanting to give sanction to the injustice of Richard’s proceedings ; but, in these times of vice and servility, that was soon procured. The parliament approved his proceedings, confirmed the act of illegitimacy of Edward’s children, pa^rsed the act of attainder against the earl of Richmond, and all his adherents; and seemed, upon the wTole, more disposed to slavery, than he to be a tyrant. One thing more was yet want- ing to complete his security, the death of his rival ; %o6 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, rival; ,lo effect thisj he sent ambassadors to the duke of Bretagne, with whom Richmond had taken shelter,, seemingly on business of a public nature, but in reality, to treat with Laudais, that prince’s prime minister, and to induce him to deliver up Richmond. The minister was base enough to enter into the nagociation ; but Rich- mond, having had timely notice, fled away into France, and had just reached the limits of that kingdom, when his pursuers came up with him. Richard, finding his design of seizing his enemy’s person without success, as his power became more precarious, became every day more suspicious and more cruel. Lord Stanley, who w’as now married to the widow of Edward IV. fell strongly into this suspicion : and to se- cure his fidelity, he took the son as 'an hostag’e for his father’s good behaviour. He now also resolved to get rid of his present' queen, in or- der to many his own niece ; a match from which he expected to derive several advantages. The ladyh-€ was then married to was formerly wife to the young prince of Wales, that was murdered by him at Tewksbury. It is no slight indication of the barbarity of the times, to find a woman thus taking the murderer of her hus- band for her second lord. She felt, however, the consequences of her ingratitude to the de- ceased prince, in the inhumanity o! the present : Richard treated her with so much contempt and indifference, that she died of grief, according to his desire. But, his wishes -were not crowned with success in applications to his niece ; she treated his vile passion with retaliated contempt and just detestation. In the- perplexity caused by this unexpected refusal, it was, that he received the news of ‘Richmond IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 207 Richmond being once more landed at Milford- haven, with an intent to deprive him of the crown ; but being informed that he brought with him but two thousand men, beseemed to despise the effort, and issued orders to oppose him with the greatest coolness and intrepidity. Richard was possessed of courage and military conduct, and these were his only virtues. Hav- ing heard that Pvichmond was marching with Ins little army to London, he was resolved to meet him on the way, and end the pretensions of the one or the other, by a battle. Richmond, though very much inferior in number, 'Was bo less desi- rous of engaging ; so that the two armies soon met at Bosworth field, to determine a dispute that bad novr, for more than thirty years drained Eng-* land of its bravest subjects. Richard perceiving his ene^my advance, drew up his army, consisting of about thirteen thou- sand men, in order of battle : he gave the com- mand of the van-guard to the duke of Norfolk, and led the main body himself, with the crpwn on his head, either designing by this to inspire the enemy with aw'e, or to render himself conspicuous to his own army. The earl of Richmond, who had not half the number of men, drew up his forces also in two lines ; the earl of Oxford commanding the first, and he himself the second : Lord Stanley, in the mean time, posted hinvself on the flank between the two armies, and his brother took station in the other, which was opposite. Richard seeing him thus in a situation equally convenient for join- ing either army, immediately sent him orders to join him, which tlie other refusing, he gave instant command for beheading lord Stanley’s son, whom he had kept as an hostage j but be- ing 2o8 an history of ENGLAND, ing persuaded to postpone the execution till af- ter the fight, he complied, and immediately or- dered the trumpets to sound to battle. The two armies approaching each other, the battle began with a shower of arrows, and soon the two ranks began to close : This was what Stanley- expected, who immediately profited himself of the occasion, joined the line of Richmond, and turned the fortune of the day. In the mean while Richard spurred np his horse into the thickest of rhe fight, and Richmond quitted his station behind, to encourage his troops by his presence in the front. Richard, perceiving him, was willing to end all by one blow’ ; and, with the fury of a lion fiew through thousands to at- tack him.- He slew* Sir William Brandon, the earl’s standard-bearer, who had attempted stop- ping his career ; Sir John Cheney, having taken Brandon’s place, was thrown to the ground : Richmond, in the mean time, stood to oppose him, but the crovrcl interposing, they were sepa- rated. Richard now, therefore, went to inspire his troops at another quarter ; but at last, per- ceiving his army every where yielding or flying, and now finding that all was gone, he'rushed, with a loud shout, into the midst of the enemy, and there met a better death than h’s actions had merited. After the battle his body being found amidst a heap of slaughter, stripped naked, co- vered with wmunds, and the eyes frightfully sta- ring, it was thrown across an horse, the hca.d hanging down on one side and the legs on the other, and so carried to Leicester. It lay there two days, exposed to public view, and then was buried without fiirth.er ceremony. Richard’s IN A SERIES Of LEXTERS. 209 Richard’s crown being found, by one of the soldiers, in the field of battle, w'as immediately placed upon the head of the con- j ^ ^ queror : the whole army as if in- spired, with one voice cried out. Long live king Henry I Thus ended the bloody reign of Richard ; and by his death, the race of the Rlantagenet kings, that had been in possession of the crown during the space oi Jiree hundred and thirty years, became extinct. Thus ended also the contests between the houses of York and Lancaster, which had for thirty years, been as a pestilence to the kingdom, and in which above an hundred thousand men lost their lives, either by the executioner, or on the field of battle. These dissentions had reduced the kingdom to a state ol almost savage barbarity : laws, arts, and commerce, were entirely neglected for the practice of arms ; and to be a conqueror was sufficient, in tne eyes of the people, to stand for every other virtue. They had, as yet, no idea of pacific government, nor could lend applause to those who cultivated it, and except only in tlieir gallantry to _the fair sex, they little dif- fered from the ancient painted inhabitants of the island. Jn these wars the wmmen, though ever so formidable, or ever so active, unless ac- cused of witchcraft, were exempted from ca- pital punishments, v.hich probably proceeded irom a spirit of galantry, the single virtue of the times. As' for the clergy, they w-ere en- tirely distinct from the laity, both in customs, constitutions, and learning : they were govern- ed by the civil law, drawn up by one of the Roman Emperors-; whereas the laity wmre go- verned by the common law, which w>is tradi- tionally AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, 2tO ■ tiOnally delivered to them from their ancestors. The clergy (however we may be told to the con- trary) understood and wrote Latin tolerably well ; the laity, on the other hand, understood DO Latin, but applied themselves wholly to French, when they aspired to the character of politeness. The clergy, as a body, little in- terested themselves in the civil polity, and per- haps were not displeased to see the laity, whom they considered not as fellow subjects, but ri- vals for power, weakening themselves by conti- nual contests : the laity regarded the clergy with blied veneration, and this veneration lessened their regard for their Ling. In short, as there was no virtue among the individuals of the na- tion, the government was like a feverish con- j stitution; ever subject to ferment and disorder. France served for a while, as a drain to the "’pec- cant humours ; but, when that was no longer open, the disorder seemed to increase in the in- ternal part of the constitution, and produced all the horrors of civil war. LETTER XXVII. ' It was in this state of the nation that the earl of Richmond, who took the name of Henry VII. came to the throne. You are now to be- hold one of the. greatest revolutions that ever was brought about in any kingdom, effected by the prudence, clemency, and perseverance of one great prince : a nation of tumult reduced to civil subordination ; an insolent and fac- tious aristocracy humbled ; wise laws enacted; commerce restored ; and the peaceful arts len- dered amiable to a people, for vvhom before, war IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 2 I war only had charms. In a word, you are new to turn to a period where the whole governincnt seems to put on a new form ; and to view the actions of a king, if not the greatest at least the most useful, that ever sat upoa the British or any other throne. Hitherto you have only read the history ol a barbarous nation, obey- ing with reluctance, and governed by caprice : you are henceforth to view more refined poli- tics, and better concerted schemes ; to behold human wisdotn, as if roused from her lethargy ol thirteen hundred years, exerting every art to feduce fne natural ferocity of the people, and to introduce haopiness. H enry’s first care upon coming to the throne was to marry the princess Elizabeth, daughter of Edward IV. and thus unite the interests of the houses of Lancaster and York : but lest the people should suppose he claimed the crown upon the strength of his alliance, he deferred her coronation till two year^ after,>,by which he made evident the priority of his own claim. His reign happily commenced with an obedience to the laws that had been hitherto unknown in England. An act had been passed, in the pre- ceding reign, for the attainder of his friends and followers : this act still continued, in force, and many members of that house, by wLich it was to be repealed, were those who were men- tioned in the attainder. To suffer such to join in repealing that statute, would be admitting them judges in their owm cause, to which Hen- ry bravely and justly objected ; they were, therefore, obliged to leave the house, till an act was passed to reverse their attainder. Before his reign, it v/as usual, when any per- son was attainted, to take away his life, and give 212 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, give away his fortune to some court favourite r Henry wisely perceived that this had two bad effects:' it first excited resentment by its cruelty, and in the next place, only made the favourite too powerful for subjection. This prudent mo- narch took a better method to repress tumult and rebellion : he deprived such as w^ere caught in arms of their estates and fortunes, and these he reserved for the use of the crown. By this means, he deprived them of the power to in- jure him, and he strengthened the sinews of government by enriching the crown. A great part of the miseries of his predecessors pro- ceeded from their poverty, and the opulence of the nobility. Henry saw that money alone could turn the scale of power into his own hands, and therefore hoarded up all the, confis- cations of his enemies with the utmost frugality* Avarice upon these motives, is not only excus- able, but praiseworthy : it is not meanness, but ceconomy : and, whatever historians tell us of liberality in a king, it is, at best, a misplaced virtue. Such liberalities are, in general, ex- torted from the poor, the industrious, and the useful ; and bestowed, as rewards, upon the rich, and pov^erful, and insinuating ; upon the sycophants of a court, and flatterers of de- bauchery. Henry w^es different from his pre- decessorfe in this respect ; he gave away a few re- wards to the courtiers ' about his person, and none but the poor shared ids benefactions* He released all the prisoners for debt in Ids domi- nions, whose debts did not amount to forty shillings, and paid their creditors from tlie royal coffers. His ceconomy rendered him not only useful to the poor, but enabled him to be just IN A SERIES OE LETTERS. 2»3 to his own creditors,, either abroad or at hoine. Those sums which he borrowed from the city of London, or any of his subjects^ he repaid at the appointed day, with the utmost punctu- ality; and thus, as he grew just in his owm do- minions, he become respectable abroad. Immediately after liis marriage with Eliza- beth, he issued out a general pardon to all such as chose to accept it: but those lords, who had been the favourites of the last reign, and long iised to turbulence, refused his proferred ten- derness, and flew to arras. Lord Hovel, Hum- phrey and TJiomas Stafford, placed themselves at the head of this insurrection: Henry sent the duke of Bedford to oppose the insurgents, with ordes to try what might be the effects of a prof- fered pardon, previous to his attempts to reduce them. The duke punctually obeyed his instruc- tions, but the rebels seemed to listen to no ac- cornmodatfon : but, contrary to all expectation. Lord Level, apprehensive of being deserted by hir followers, first shewed them the example and fled away to Flanders. The rebel army, now without a leader, submitted to the mercy of the king, which they received. The Staf- fords, who were in the mean time besieging Worcester, hearing of the surrender of their confederates, attempted to take sanctuary in a church which had no privileges to protect them- being taken from thence, the eldest of the bro- thers was executed, the other received a pardon. But the people were hecome so turbulent and factious, by a long course of .civil war, that no governor could rule them, nor any king plt'a.se. One rebellion seemed extinguished only to give rise to another ; the king kept, at that time-, a son of the duke of Clarence, who had been for- AN- HISTORY OF ENGLAND.- 2,14 merly drowned in a butt of wine, as has been mentioned, a prisoner in the Tower. Tiiis poor youth, who was styled the earl of Vv'arwick, had long been a stranger to liberty ; he was un- acquainted with men and things, to the number of four thousand, were dismissed home again in safety. But this moderation had not the proper effect upon minds too ignorant for gratitude ; they attributed the king’s clemen- cy to fear, and upon returning home, induced their friends to believe that the whole kingdom was ready to vise to vindicate their quarrel. It was now, therefore, determined to send for Perkin Warbeek, who w^as then in Ireland, to put himsdf at their head. Perkin did not hesi;» tate to accept their invitation ; and taking up- on him the command, chose for his privy coun- cil one Hern, a broken mercer, Shelton, a tay- lor, and Astley, a scriviner. He published a proclamation also against Henry, in which he took the title of Richard IV. and, having drawn together a body of three thousand men, at- tempted Ao storm the city of Exeter, but with-- out success. Henry, having received advice of his pro- ceedings, said merrily, that he should now have the pleasure of visiting a person whom he had long wished to see, and then took the necessaiy rneasures to oppose him. Perkaa, on the other kautf seeing thaf the king v.^as marching to at- tack him, lost all courage, and, in the night, took sanctuary in the monastery of Bewley. Soon after, upon promise of pardon, he sur- - rendered liimself to the king, and was confined' in the Tower; bur, escaping from tiience, and finding it impracticable to get out of the king*. dom, lie again took sanctuary in tlie monastery oi Beth.lein. The prior oi this house ga-ve hir.i- J AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, Hp to the king, upon promise of a pardon ; and Perkin was now a second time confined in the Tower : but plotting even there, against the king, he and the earl of Warwick, being con- j, victed of designs to kill the keeper oi the lower, and to escape, were both put to death. . There was as yet in Henryks reign, nothing but plots, treasons, insurrections, ingratitude, imposture, and punishments. You have seen several of these fomenters of treason brought to justice, yet infinitely gteater numbers pardoned ; but there was a wide difference between the punishment of this, and the arbiti ary sentences' of the preceding reigns. The courts of judica- ture now sat upon every criminal,, uninfluenced by the royal authority ; and scarce one person was punised for treason, but such as would, at present, have received the same rigorous treat- ment. A king who can reign without ever pu- nishing, is happy ; but that monarch must cer- tainly be undone, who, through fear, or ill- timed lenity, suffers repeated guilt to escape without' notice. When a country becomes quite illicit, punishments then, like the loppings in a garden, only serve to strengthen the stock, and prepare for a new harvest of virtues. TETTER XXVin. H/ET us now" exhibit that part of Henry’s reign, in which he most deserves our admuation, in which we shall find him as the fiiend of peace, and the refined politician. Indeed, no man loved peace more than he, and much of the ill-will of his subjects arose fro.ii'his attempts to repress their inclination for w’ar. The usual preface to his treaties w"as, That, when Christ came into the IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. the world, peace was sung ; and, when he went out of the world, peace was bequeathed. He had no ambition to extend his power, exce'pt only by treaties, and by wdsdom ; by these he rendered himself much more formidable to his neighbours, than his predecessors had done by their victories. They were formidable only to their own subjects t Henry w'as dreaded by rival kings. He all along had two points principally in view; one to depress the nobility and clergy, and the other to humanize and raise up the peo- ple. From the ambition of the former, and the blind dependence of the latter, all the trou- bles in former reigns arose ; every nobleman was possessed of a certain number of subjects, over whom he had an absolute power, and, upon- every occasion, could influence numbers to join, in revolt and disobedience. He first, therefore, considered tlifit giving these petty monarchs a power of selling their estates, M’hich before they had not a right to do, would greatly waken their interest. With this view he got an act passed, in w'hich the nobility were granted a power of alienating their possessions ; a law infinitely pleasing to the commons, nor was it disagreeable even to the nobility, since they thus had an immediate resource for supply- ing the waste of prodigality, and the demands, of their creditors. The blow reached their pos- terity alone, but they w^ere too ignorant to be sensible of remote sufferings. His next sciicme was to prevent their giving liveries to many hundreds of dependents, wlio s.erved like standing forces, to be ready at the summons, of their lord. By an act passed in his- leigOj none but menial servants vv:ere permitted 2,Z4 an history of ENGLAND, to wear a livery, under severe penalties j and this law he took^ caje to enforce with the utmost rigour. It is told us, by Bacon, that the king, one day paying a visit to the earl of Oxford, was entertained by hini with all possible splendor and magnificence. When the king was ready to depart, he saw ranged on both sides, a great number of men, dressed up in very rich liveries, apparently to do him honour. The king, sur- prised at such a number of domestics, as he thought them, cried out, M'hat, my lord of Oa’^ JorJy are all these Jrne fellows y cur itivnial Sevyanisf The earl not perceiving the king’s drift, an- svi'ered, with a smile, that they were only men whom he kept in pay to do him honour upon such occasions. At this the king started a lit- tle, and said. By my faith, my lord, I thank you for your good cheer ; but I must not sujfer to have the laws broken ; my attorney general must talk with' you. The historian adds, that the king ex- acted a severe fine for this transgression of the statute. It has been already observed what a perverted use was made of monasteries, and other places appropriated to religious worship, by tiie num. ber of criminals who took refuge in them. This privelege the clergy assumed as, tiudr undouhttd light, and those places of pretenced sanctity were become the abode of murderers, robbei s, and conspirators. Witches and necromancei s were the only fter. ons who could not avail tlienu eives of the advantages of the security the?e alforded : they wb.ose crimes were only fictitious, were the only people who had not the beiiefit of such a retreat. Henry used ail his interest with the pope to abolish these sanctuaries, but without effect ; all that Ijc could procure was, ''that. IN A 3iRl£3 Oi* LSttiR'S, ■ thRt, if thieves, murderers, or robbbers, regis tered as sanctuary men, should sally out and commit fresh offences and retreat again, in such cases, they might be ta|-cen out of the sanctuary, and delivered up to justice. Henry politically pretended the utmost sub- mission to all the popes decrees, and shewed thb greatest respect to the clergy, but still was guided by them in no other instance ot his conduct' The pope, at one time, was so far imposed upon' by h is seeming attachment to the church, that he even invited him to renew the crusades for te-- covering the Holy Land. Henry’s answer to this ought to be remembered : he assured his holi- ness, that no prince in Christendom would be more forward than he to undertake so glorious and necessary an expedition j but as his dominions by very distant from Constantinople, it would be better to apply to the king of France and Spain for their assistance ; and that, in the mean time, he would come to their aid himself, as soon as the differences ictzueen the Christian princes zuere brought to an end. This was, at once a polite refusal, and an oblique reproach. Henry had seen the latal consequences of hav- ing favourites, and therefore resolved to have none ; he even excluded, from his privy council, such as, by their titles and fortunes, might at- tempt to govern him, instead of executing his intentions. His council was composed of pri- vate men, who had learning and wisdom to ad- vise, but neither influence nor ambition to go- vern. But, while he was thus employed in lower- ing his nobility and clergy, he was using every art to extend the privileges of the people. In former reigns they were sure to suffer, on what- - ever 2,26 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND^ ever side they fought, if they had the misfor- tune to loose the victory: this rendered each par- ty desperate, in cases of civil war ; and this was the cause of such terrible slaughters. He tlrere- iore procured the passing of an act, by which it was established, that no person should be im- peached or attainted for assisting the k'wg/or the time I'cingy or, in other words, him who should be then actually on the throne. This excellent statute served to repress the desire of civil war, as several vimuld naturally take arms, in defence of that side on which they were certain of los- ing nothing by a defeat, and their numbers w’ould intimidate insurgents. . But his greatest eiForts were directed to^ pro- mote trade and commerce, because this naturally introduced a spirit of liberty .among the people and disengaged them from their dependance on the nobility. Before this happy a-ra, aliour towms Owed their original to some stiong castle in the neighbourhood, where some great lord generaliy resided ; and these also were m.ade use of as prisons for all sorts of criminals. In these also ihere was generaliy a garrison, or a number of armed men, who depended on the nobleman’s bounty for support. The number of these, of course, drew, all the artificers, victuallers, and shop-keepers to settle in some place adjacent, in order to furnish the lord and his attendants with what necessaries they wanted. The farmers ako and husbandmen, in the neighbourhood built their houses there, to , be protected against the numerous gangs of robbers that hid themselves in the woods by day, and infested the country by night, who were called Robertsmen. Henry, on the other hand, endeavoured to bring the towns \ IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 2^7 towns from such a neighbourhood, by inviting ^ the inhabitants to a more commerdai situation. He attempted to reach them frugality and pay- ment of debts, the life and soul of industry, by his own cxaiTiple, and never omitted the rights of commerce in all his treaties with foreign princes. About this time the whole world seemed to im- prove : Sweden, France, and Spain, enjoyed ex- cellent motiarchs, wlio encouraged and protected the rising arts. The Portuguese sailed round the Cape of Good Hope, and Columbus had made the discovery of America. Henry in imitation of them, gave a patent to some Bristol and Por- tuguese merchants to go in quest of new countries But an accident gave him a better opportunity of improving commerce, than his most sanguine hopes could have aspired to : the king of Spain and his queen, being upon their return to their own dominions, after a conclusion of a success- ful war in Holland, were driven by a storm on the coasts of England. As soon as Flenry had notice of their arrival, he received them both with marks of the sincerest friendship and re- spect, meditating in the mean time, how to make his subjects reap some advantage by the accident. He therefore treated them with a splendour which was by no means agreeable to his owni na^ ture ; and,' while he kept them thus entertained with a round of pageantry and amusements, he concluded a treaty of corhmerce, which has, even to this day, continued to be' beneficial to pos- terity. Having thus at length seen his country civi- lized, the people pay their taxes without insur- rections, the nobility learning a just subordina- tion. I few*. 22S an HISTORT of ENGLAND. tion, the laws alone sufiered to inflict punish- ment^ towns begun to sepai'ate from tlse castles of the nobiliry ; comir.erce every day encreased; foreigners either feared England, or sought its alliance ; and the spirit of faction was happily extinguished at home ; he was at peace with all Europe, and he had issued out a general par- don to his own subjects. It was in this situation of things that he (lied, of the gout in his sto- mach, having lived fifty two years, and reigned twenty-three. Since the times of Allred, Eng- land bad not seen such another king. He render- ed his subjects powerful and happy, and wrought a greater change in this kingdom, than it was possible to expect could be affected in so short a time. If he had any fault, it was, that liaving begun his reign with oeconomy, as he grew old Ills desires seemed to cliange their object, fronr tlie use of money, to the pleasure of hoarding itj but we can easily excuse him, as he only saved for the public, the royal coffers being then the only treasure of the stale ; and in proportion to ihek ing’s finances, the public might be said to be cither rich or indigent. LETTER XXVI. ^^EVERdid prince come to the throne with a Coniuncture of so many fostunate circumstan- ^ D favour as Henry VHL ' who now took upon him the govern- ment of the kingdom. His prudent father left him a peapeable kingdom, prudent ministers, and a well stored treasury. Ail factions wete extinguished, and all divisions united in his per- son: he by the father’s side claimed from the house of Lancaster,, and by tlie mothers from IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 229 ^he house of York. He was at peace with all Europe, and his subjects were every day grow- ing more pow’erfu! and more wealthy : coinrneice and arts had been introduced in the former reign and they seemed to find in England a Javourable reception. The young king himself wcas beau- tiful in person, expert in polite exercises, and loved by his subjects. The old king who was himself a scholar, had him instructed in all the learning of the times ; so that he was perfectly versed in school divinity at tiie age of eighteen. Yet, from this beginning, you must not ex- pect to read the history of a good prince. All * these advantages were either the gifts of nature, of fortune, or of his father : with all these happy talents, Henry VUI. wanted the two great requisites in forming every good charac- ter, wi'dom and virtue. The learning he had, if It might be called by that name, served only to inflame his pride, but not controul his vicious affections. The love of his subjects was testi- fied by their adulations, and served as another meteor to lead him astray. His vast wealth in- stead of relieving his subjects, or increasing his power, only contributed to supply his debau- cheries, or gratify the rapacity of tlic ministers of his pleasures. But happy for him, had his fault rented here ; he was a tyrant ; humanity takes the alarm at his cruelty, and, whatever fortunate events might have been the conse- quence of his designs, no good man but must revolt at the means he took for their accom- plishment. The first act of injustice which marked his ' reign, was his prosecution of Epsom and Dud- ley, the judges whom his father had constituted to 230 AN HISTORY OF ENCLANP, to inquire into cases of treason, and levy fines proportionable to the offence. Their conduct wa? examined, but nothing being found against them, tlrat could amount to a capital convic- tion, a false accusation was produced, and they were convicted of having plotted against the new king, and received sentence to be beheaded, which was executed accordingly. These two jndges had been long hated by the people, though apavently without a cause ; they only put the law^s into execution against crimi- nals, and, instead of their lives deprived the guil- ty of their fortunes. This action of an unjust compliance with popular clamour, was followed by another still more detrimental to the nation, yet more pleasing to the people; the spirit of chivalry and conquest was not yet quite extin- guished in the nation ; France w^as still an object of desire, and Henry was resolved once more to strike at the crown. It was in vain that one of his old prudent counsellors objected, that con- quest on the continent would only be prejudicial to the kingdom, and that England, from its si- tuation, was not destined for extensive empire ; the young king, deaf to all remonstrances, and perhaps inspired by the voice of the people, re- solved to lead an army into that kingdom. The consequences of the campaign were an useless victory and an empty triumph. The French fled without fighting ; a truce was concluded between the two kings ; and Henry returned home to dis- sipate, in more peaceful follies, the large sums which had been amassed for very different pur- poses by his father. But, while he thus changed from one plea- sure to another, it W’as requisite to find out a minister and favourite Vt^ho would take care of the I NT A SERIES Of LETTER?. 231 the kingdom. InclilTerent princes ever attempt to rule, and are ruled by favourites, and soon a proper person was found to answer the king’s intention in this particular : the man I mean was the famous Cardinal Wolsey ; and as ^ great part of this reign was ruled by him, his history may, with propriety, make a part in that of his master. Thomas Wolsey was the son of a private gentleman (and not of a butcher as is commonly reported) in Ipswich: he was sent to Oxford so early, that he was a batchelor at fourteen, and from that time called the boy batchelor. He rose, by degrees, upon quitting college, from one preferment to another, till he was made rector of Lymington by the marquis of Dorset, whose children he had instructed. He had not long resided at this living, when one of the justices of the peace put him in the stocks, for being drunk and raising disturbances in a neighbouring fair. This disgrace, however, did not retard his promotion ; he rose by degrees, till he was, at last, intrusted with negotiating an intended marriage between Plenry VII. and Margaret of Savoy. His dispatch, upon that occasion, procured him the deanery of Lincoln; and in this situation it was that Henry the VIH. pitched upon him as a favourite, and entrusted him with the administration of affairs. Pre- syentiv after this, being introduced at court, he was made a privy counsellor, and as such, had an opportunity of ingratiating himself with the king, who found him at once submissive and en- terprising. Wolsey sung, laughed, danced, with every libertine of the court : and his house was the scene of all the king’s criminal plea- sures and amours. To such a weak and vicious monarch as Henry, qualities of this nature were highly V 23Z an history of ENGLAND',' higlily pleasing, and Wolsey was made his prime ^ minister, and managed the whole kingdom at his pleasure. The people saw, wkh indignation, tlie new favourite’s mean condescensions to the king, and his arrogance to themselves. They had long regarded the vicious insolence and un- becoming splendour of the clergy with envy anti detestation, and Wolsey’s greatness served to bring a new odium upon that body, already too much the obiect of the people’s dislike. Wolsey had some talents as a minister, but his failings out- balanced them, being excessively revengeful, and ambitious and intokrably proud. Among other instances oi his ambition, he as- pired at the' popedom. Ferdinand, who was then emperor of Germany, promised him his inte-- rest to procure it, and this consequently attached the English minister more closely to the emperor: this monarch was then at war whith France, and each power solicited the alliance of England. It was the interest of the English calmly to look on as spectators of the quarrel, and sulfer its rivals in power to grow weak by their mutual animosity; Wolsey, however, preferring his own interest to that of his country or his master, engaged in a league against France. Soon af- ter, however, the pope dying, and the emperor failing in his promise, V/olsey, in revenge, in- duced his master to change sides, and assist France against Ferdinand. A victory over the Scots, rather ostentatious than usefnl, served in some measure to repress the discontents of the people during the mal- administration of the ecclesiastical favourite : this victory was obtained by the earl of Surrey over James IV. of Scotland; it was fought at Floddon Field, and the Scots upon this oc- casion, IN A SERIES OF LETTERS- 233 casiof), lost the flower of their nobility and gentry ; and James, their king, was slain in battle. Success ever serves to stop the inurrnurings of the English, and no nation can better endure to ■be splendidly miserable. Wolsey now became a cardinal, grew every day more powerful, and more desirous of pow'er ; the pope was sensible of his iiiiduence over the king, and therefore created him his legate in England. Tlie pon- tiff’s design was to make him thus instrumental in draining the kingdom of money, upon pre- tence of employing it in a war against the Turks, but, in reality, to fill his own coffers. In this he so well served the court of Home, that he, some time after, made him legate for life : he was now, therefore, at once, a legate, a cardinal, and a bishop, a prime minister, and possessed of numiierless church benefices : yet still unsa- tisfied, he desired greater promotions. He there- fore procured a bull from the pope, impowering him to make knights and counts, to legitimate bastards, fo give decrees in arts, law, physic, and divinity, and grant all sorts of dispensations. So much pride and power could not avoid giving high offence to tlie nobility ; yet none dared to vent their indignation, so greatly were they in terror of bis vindictive temper. Tlie duke of Buckingham, son of him who lost his life in the reign of Rlcharddll. was the only person who had resolution enough to complain. His threats were soon conveyed to Woiscy by an informer, who was not slow to accuse the duke of high- treason. The substance of Ids impeachment w'os, tliat he ivad consulted a fortune-teller concerning his succession to the crown, and had affected to make himself popular. This was but a weak pretext 234 HISTORY OF ENGLANSj pretext to take away the life of a nobleman^ whose father died in defence of the late king however, he was condemned to die as a traitor. When the sentence was pronounced against him, and the high steward came to mention the word traitor, the unhappy prisoner could no longer contain ; My lords, cried he to his judges 1 am no traitor, and for what you have now done a~ gainst me, take my sincere forgiveness : as for my life, I think it is not worth 'petitioning for ; may God Jorgive you, and pity me / He was soon alter executed on Tower-hill. Every just man must feel the highest indigna- tion at so unmerited a punishment. In the for- mer reign, the few that perished under the hand of the executioner were really culpable ; but here we see a nobleman’s. life taken away, onl-y for his dislike of an aspiring and licentious up- start. It is this cruelty of punishing without guilt, and not the number of executions in a reign, that distinguishes it intoa tyranical, and an unmerciful, one. Perhaps there were more execu- tions under Henry VII. than underhis successor; and yet the first was a just and merciful prince, the latter an arbitrary and merciless tyrant. By this time all the immense treasures of the late king were quite exiiausted on empty pa- geants, guilty pleasures, or vain treaties and expeditions. Wolsey v/as a proper instrument to supply the king with money, which now be- gan to be wanted, this he extorted by the nante of benevolence : Henry minded not by what methods it w^'as raised, provided he had but the enjoyment of it. However his minister met some opposition in his attempts to levy those in- voluntary contributions ; having exacted a con- siderable IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. "^5 slderable subsidy from the clergy, he next ad- dressed himself tc the house of commons, but they only granted half the supplies he demandedj, The cardinal was highly offended at their parsi- mony, and desired to be heard in the house; but as this would have destroyed, the very form and constitution of that august body, they re- plied that none could be admitted to reason there but such as were members. This was the fifst attempt made, in the present reign, to ren- der the king master of the debates in parlia- ment; Wolsey first paved the way, and, un- fortunately for the kingdom, the king too well improved upon his design, Wolsey was, soon after, raised to still greater dignities tlian before : he was at last archbi- shop of York, bishop of Durham, abbot of St. Alban's, a cardinal, legate for life, lord chan- cellor of England, prime minister and favou- rite, and caressed or feared by all the powers of Europe : he now, therefore, undertook more openly to render the king independant of his parliament, and levied the subsidy granted by them for four years, and consequently to be paid at four different times, all at once. Against this the poor, who were the greatest sullerers, most loudly exclaimed ; but he disregarded their clamours, secure in the king’s approbation, and the pope’s protection. These proceedings only paved the way to still greater extortions: Wolsey was too haughty to be refused in his demands by the house of com- mons, and determined to levy money upon the king’s' authority alone. This was deemed a breach of the Magna Charta, and the people absolutely refused to comply. Even a geneial rebellion threatened to ensue. The king, find- 2j6 an history of in gland. ing u hat was likely to be the consequence of the caidlnal’s precipitate measures, pretended they were carried on without his authority ; bat, at the same time, demanded from the people a be- nevolence, which w’asonlyan artifice to extort money under a different name. The people seemed sensible of the king’.s art, and the citi- zens of London refused to give the benevolence demanded : their examiple was followed by the country and an universal defection seemed to prevail. The king apprehensive of bad conse- quences by persisting in his demand, thouglu proper to retract for this time, and wait a more favourable opportunity of oppression. You now find the people labouring under a very different form of oppression from that in the reigns preceding Henry "VIL In those ear Her times their miseries chiefly arose from the licentiousness of the nobility: in this reign they proceeded from the usurpations of the king. Before Henry VII. had balanced the govern- ment, the people often discharged their taxes by an insurrection ; but now that the present Henry had destroyed that balance again, the people were obliged to pay taxes that were not due. In short, they now seemed as miserable as when their great restorer htsd brought them frorn anarchy ; an arbitrary king, an avaricious pop;', a revengeful, favourite, a luxurious clergy, all conspired to harrass tlicm : yet during tf.is whole reign, there was no rebellion ; not iVom the justice of the king’s administration, nor from the love the people had to their sovereign; but, hap[.'lly for the reigning tyrant, he enjoyed the eifecis of his predecessor’s prudence, not his own. LETTIR IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 237i LETTER XXX. As, b a family, the faults and the imperti- nence of servants are often to be 'ascribed to their masters ; so., in a state, the vices and the insolence of favourites should be justly attri- buted, to the king who employs them. The pride of Wolsey was great, but his riches were still greater, and in order to have a pretext for amassing such sums, he undertook to iound two new colleges at Oxford, for which he received every day fresh grants from the pope and the king. To execute his scheme, he obtained a li- ^ • *1 beriy of suppressing several monasteries, and “Converting their funds to the benefit pf his in- tended scheme. Whatever might have been tlitJ pope’s inducement to grant him these privileges, nothing could be more fatal to the pontiff’s in- terests; for Henry was thus himself taught to imitate afterwards what he had seen a subject perform without crime or danger. Hitherto the administation of affairs was car- ried on by Wolsey alone : and as for the king he lulled in the embraces of his mistres'ses all the complaints of the nation, and the cardinal un- dertook to keep him ignorant, in order to main- tain his own authority. But now a period ap- -proached, that was to put an end to this minis- ter's exorbitant power : one of the most ex- traordinary and impoi'tani revolutions that ever employed the attention of man, w’as now ripe for execution. But to have a dear idea of this grand reformation, it will be proper to take a cursory view of the state of the ^ -p^ church at that time, and observe ' by what seemingly contradictory means Provi- -dence produces the happiest events. They AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, The church of Rome had now, for more than a thousand years, been corrupting the sa- cred doctrines of Christianity, and converting into a temporality the kingdom of another world. The popes were frequently found at the head of their own armies, fighting lor their do- minions with the arm of flesh, and forgetting, in cruelty and immoral politics, the pretended sanc- tity of their character. They had drained other kingdoms ol their treasures upon the most infa- mous pretexts, and were proud of setting 'at Kome, in their own conduct, an example of refined pleasure and studied luxury. The car- dinals, prelate's, and dignitaries of the ciiurch, lived and were served like voluptuous princes, and some ol them were found to possess eight or nine bishopricks at a time. Whenever the church governs, it exerts its power with cruel- ty ; and to their luxury these great ones added g. the crime of being tyrants too. As for the inferior clergy, both popish and protestaat writers exclaim against their dissolute and abandoned morals. They publickly kept mistresses, and bequeathed to their bastards what- ever they were able to save from their pleasures or extort irom the poor. There is still to be seen, says a fine writer, a will made by a bishop oi Cambray, in which he sets aside a certain sum for the h'a star ds he has had already^ and those which by the UcssDiy of God., he may yet hafpen to have. In many parts of England and Germany, the people obliged the priests to have concubines, SO that the laity might keep their wives in great- er security: while the poor laborious peasant and artixan saw all the fruits of their toil go, not to clothe and maintain their own little fa- milies IM A SERIES OF LETTERS. 23g milies, but to pamper men who insulted and despised them. But the vices of the clergy were no greater ‘ than their ignorance; few of. them knew the meaning of their own Latin mass; they were chiefly employed in finding out witches, and exorcising the possessed. But what most in- creased the hatred of the people against them, was the selling pardons and absolutions for sin at certain stated prices. A deacon, or subdea- , con, who should commit murder, was absolved from his crime, and allowed to possess three benefices, upon paying twenty crowns. A bishop or an abbot might commit murder for ten pounds ' Every crime had its stated price, and abso- lutions were given, not only for sins already committed, but for such asi||liould be committed hereafter. The wisest of the people looked with silent detestation on these impositions, and the ignorant, whom nature seemed to have formed lor slavery, began to open their eyes to such glaring absurdities. There arose, at last, a champion to rescue hu- man nature from Its degeneracy. This was the lamous Martin Luther, Leo X. being employed in building tlie church at St. Peter’s at Rome, in the year 1519, in order to procure money for carrying on 'this project, lie gave a commission for selling indulgences, or, in other words, a de- liverance from the pains of purgatory, either for ■oire’s self or oilier friends. There were every where shops opened where these were sold; but, in general, they were to be iiad at taverns and such like places. '1 best indulgences w’ere granted to'the Dominican friars to be distributed by tiitm, whereas the Augustine friars had been in pos- session of the distribution of them time out of mind 240 an history of ENGLAND, mind before. Martin Luther was an Augustine monk, and one of those who resented the trans- ferring the sale of indulgences to another order. He began to shew his indignation, by preaching against their efficacy: opposition soon drove him further than he hrst intended to go, and, now the veil was lifted, he proceeded to examine the authority of the pope himself. Tlie people vrho had long groaned under the papal tyranny, heard Ills discourses with pleasure, and defended him against the authority and machinations of tlie church of Rome. Frederick, elector of Saxony, surnamed the wise, openly protected him. Lu- ther as openly declaimed against the number of sacraments, reducing the seven held by the church of Romo, first to three, and aherwards to tsvo : from thence he proceeded to examine the doctrine of transubstantiation, to shew the foliv of sup- posing a purgatory, and the dangerous conse- quences' ol celibacy among the clergy. The pope issued out his bull against Luther, and tlie Dominican friars procured iiis books to be burned. Luther abused the Dominicans, and boldly, in the streets of Wirieniberg, burned the bull of the pope, fn the mean time, the dispute was carrier! on by -writings on either side: Luther, though opposed by the pope, the cardi- nals, and all the body of the clergy, supported Jiis cause singly and vi iih succcs-^. Jf indeed we look into his works at this day, we shall find them trifling and unsatisfactory enough; but then he had only ignorance to contend with, and, ill as he wrote, they answered still worse. Opinions are inculcated upon the minds of the public, rather by fortitude and perseverance, than by strength ol reasoning or beauty of thought IN' A SERIES OF LETTERS. tnoweht, and had no more fortitude and more perseverance than he. In this dispute it was the fate of Henry VIII to be one oi the champions. His father, who had given him the education of a scholar, per- mitted him to be instructed in school divinity, which then -eomposed the learning ol the times. He was, therefore, willing to give the world a demonstration of his abilities in this respect, and desired the pope’s permission to read the works of Luther, which had been .forbidden to be read under pain of excommunication. Hav- ing readily obtained this request, the king de- fended the seven sacraments, from St. Thomas Aquinas, and shewed some skill in school divi- vity, though it was tliought that W.olsey had the chief hand in directing him. A book being thus finished in haste, it was sent to Rome for the, pope’s approbation ; the pope, ravished witix its eloquence and depth, compared the work to that of Sr. Augustine or St. Jerome, and gave Henry the title lief ender of the Faith, little suspecting that Henry was soon going to be one of the most terrible enemies that ever the churcht of Rome had yet met with. Besides these causes which contributed to ren- der the Romish church odious or contemptible, there were still others proceeding .from political motives. Clement VIL had succeeded Leo, and, the hereditary animosity between the emperoi! and the pope breaking out into a war, Clement was imprisoned in the castle of St. Angelo, and, with thirteen cardinals besides, kept in custodf for his ransom. As the demands of the empe- ror were exorbitant, Henry undertook to ne- gotiate for the pope, and procured a treaty his favour j but his holiness, in the meantime, VoL. I. M corrupt- AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, corrupting bis guards, had the good fortune to escape from coniinementj and kdt the treaty un- finished, but sbnt Heriry a letter of thanks for ‘ his mediation. The conduct of the enjperor shewed Henry that the pope might be iniured with impunity ; and the behaviour of the pope manifested but little of that sanctity or infallibi- lity to which the pontiffs pretended. Besides, as he had obliged the pope, he supposed that he might upon any emergency, expect a return of favour. 1 It was in this situation of the church and of the pope, that anew drama was going to be performed, uhich was to diangc the whole sys- tem of Europe. Henry had now been married eighteen years to Catharine of Ariagon, who had been brought over from Spain to marry his eldest brother prince Arthur^ vho died sonre months after his- cohabitation with h€~r. Henry had three chikhen by this lady, otre of vihom was still living, while sire herself was esteemed tor her virtue and the gentleness of her disposi- tion. 'I'he king, though he felt no real passion, either for the Qualifications of her mind or ner- son, yet for a long time bioke out into no ;Ha- grarit contempt : he ranged from beauty to beau- ty in the court, and his title and authority al- ways prccured'hhn a ready ccmpliance from fe- male. frailty. It happened at length, that, among the maids of honour that then attended ilie queen, there was one Anna Bullen, the daugh- ter of a gentleman of distinction, though not of the nobility. Her beauty surpassed what had hitherto appeared at this voluptuous court; h.er features were regular, mild and attractive; her statute elegant, though below the middle size : ■whilst her nit 2nd vivacity even. iX’eeeed ilte ail 'u re- In a series of letters. 243 allurement of her person. The king, who ne- ver restrained one passion wdiich he desired to gratily, saw, and loved her; but, after several efforts to induce her to comply vidth his crimi- nal passion^ he iound that vi'ithout marriage iie could have no hopes of succeeding. This ob- stacle, therefore, he quickly undertook to re- move : his own queen was now become hateful to him ; and, in order to procure a divorce, he pretended that his conscience rebuked him, 'for having so long lived in incest with his present queen, formerly his brothers wife. This every person of candour saw- was only a pretext to co- ver his real motive : he himself had eagerly soli- cited the match with queen Catharine ; he had lived with her eighteen years without any scru- ple, and had the popes licence for his cohabitati- on ; but he asserted, that a W'ounded conscience was his motive, and none of his subjects offered to divulge liie real one. In tiiis pei'plexity, therefore, he applied to Clement VII. who owed him obligations, and from whom he expected a ready compliance to dissolve the bull of the former pope, who had given him permission to marry Catharine, and to declare that it w'as contrary to all laws both divine and human. Clement w’as now in the utmost perplexity. Oucen Catharine was aunt to the eniperor who had lately made him a pri- soner , and whose resentment he dreaded to re- kindle, by thus injuring so near a relation: be- sides, he could not, in honour, declare the bull of a former pope illicit, for thus would be en- tirely destroying the papal infallibility. On the other hand, Henry was his protcctoit and friend ; the dominions of England -w'ere the chief re- source of his finances ; and the king of france^ M 7, some 244 HISTORY OF ElSr CLAN'S), son'.e time before, had got a bull of divorce in somewhat similar circumstances. In this exi- gence he thought the best method :W'as to spin oat the affair by a negociation ; and thus he ar- gued, temporised, promised, recanted, and dis- puted, hoping that the king’s passion wmuld ne- ver hold out during the tedious course of an ec- clesiastical controversy. In this he w'as mistaken,; Henry had been taught to argue as w^ell as he, arid quickly found, or wrested many texts of scripture to favour his opinions and his passions. To his arguments he added threats. Which pro- bably had greater influence : the pope was assur- ed that the Ejnglish w^ere already too much dis- posed to withdraw their obedience from the holy see, and that, if he continued to refuse, the w^hole country would readily follow their monarch’s example, and exclude themselves from his protection. The king even proposed to his Jioliness, whether, if he were denied the put- ting .away his present qUeen, he might not have a dispensation to .marry two wives at a rime ? The pope, though his measures w^ere already taken not to grant the bull, yet still seemed uai- resolved, as if waiting for more,full and authen- tic information. During these solicitations, on which Henry’s happiness seemed to depend, he expected, in his favourite WojscYj a warm defender, and a stea- dy adherent.; but in this he ’was mistaken. Woi- sey seemed to be in pretty much such a dilemma •as the pope himself. On the one hand, he was to please his master the king, from whom he had received a thousand marks of favour ; on the other band he could not disoblige the pope, whose servant he more imsmediately was, and who had power to punish his disobedience. In IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 245 this dilemma, he chose to stand neuter ; though of all mankind, he was the most haughty, he on this occasion gave way in all things to his colleague cardinal Campeigio, sent by the pope from Italy. Wolsey’s method of temporising highly disgusted the king, yet he endeavoured to conceal his resentment . he now only looked out for some man of equal abilities and less art, and it was not long before accident threw in his way one Thomas Cranmer, of greater abilities than the former, and rather more integrity. Cran- iner was a doctor of divinity, and a professor at Cambridge, but had lost his place upon marry- ing, contrary to the institutes of the canon law, which enjoined him celebacy. He had travelled into Germany, where he read Luther’s works, and embraced his doctrine ; and upon his return, M^as tutor to the sons of a gentleman, who one night happened to entertain two of the principal men of the court. Cranmer, being ask- ed his opinion of the king’s divorce, which was then the topic of the conversation, delivered him- self in so learned a manner, that the king wa« soon informed of his abilities, and ordered luni to follow^ the court. The king’s resentment now appeared more openly against the cardinal. The attorney-ge- neral was ordered to prepare a bill of indict- ment against him, and soon after he himself was ordered to resign the great seal. Crimes are readily found against a man when he is h.ated, and the cardinal was sentenced to be excluded from the protection of the Jaws. As soon as he vras out-iawed, tlie king commanded him to retire to a country house, and directed that an inventory of his goods should be taken, which contained immense riches, acquired by various methods 246 AN HISTORY OF ENGLANCj Kiethocls of guilt ard extortion : of fine holland aione there were found in his houses a thousand pieces, which may serve to give an idea of tl;e rest of bis wealth. The parliament ccnnimcd the sentence of the courts, and he was sent n exile to his country seat, there to wait the king’s disposal of his person, with all the fluctuations of hope and apprehension. Still, however. He was left the archbishoprick of York, and, even shattered as his fortunes were, he was resolved to perform the ceremony of his instalment there with a magnificence little suitable to his present condition ; but, while he was preparing to en- joy, in his retreat, those splendors which he ever loved, by another unexpected revolution ]'.e was, at the king’s command, arrested by the earl of Northumberland for hiah treason. He at first refused to comply, as being a cardinal ; but, finding the earl bent upon performing his corrmrission, he complied, and se,t out, by easy journeys, for London, to appear as a criminal in a place where he formerly acted as a king. In I'lis way he staid a fortnight at the eail of Shrewsbury’s where one day at dinner he vras taken ill, not without violent suspicion of hav- ing poisoned himself : being brought forward fiom tlrence, w^iih much d.iiiculty he reached Leicester- abbey, yhtre, the monks coming out to receive him, he sad. Father abbot, I am come to lay my bones among you. As his dis- order increased, an tfficer being placed near his bedside, at once to guard and atterd Inm, he cried out to him, O, if I had serzed my God as I have served zny king^ he vjcula not thus havejor- . „ sokcn in adversiiy. He cied A. D.jk^o^ c ‘ m r r soon alter, in ad . the ptngs of repentance and remorse, and left a life which he IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 247 he had all alon^ rendered turbid bv anabitiofis tril he found that ail his ambition was bat vanity at the last. He left- two natural children behind him, one of whom, being a .priest, was loaded with church preferments. Henry, . being thus freed h-om a person whom he considered as an obstacle to his intentions, by the advice of Cran-- iner had the legality of his. present marriage canvassed in the different universities of Phi-” rope. It was very extraordinary to see the king on one side soliciting the universities ’ to be fa- vourable to his passion, and on the other, the emperor pressing them to incline to his aunt f' Henry iibetally rew-arded those doctors who de- c-iarecl in his favour, and the emperor granted benehces to such as vpted on his side of the de- bate. Time has descovered these intrigues. In one of Henry’s account books, we find the dis- bursements he made upon these occasions : to a deacon he gave a crown, to a subdeacoa two crowns, and so of the rest, to each in pro- portion to his consequence. The person^who bribed upon these occasions, however excused himself by declaring, that he never paid the' money till after the vote was given. He'hry at length prevailed ; his liberalities werg greater tfsan those of hi.9 rivals, as he was most interested in the success of the debate ; al! tlie colleges in It.ily and Fiance unanimously declared his pre- sent marriage against ail law, divine, and humanj and that therefore it rvas not at first irrthe power of the pope to grant a dispensation.. The only places where it was most warmly opposed, w'ere at Cambridge and Oxfirrd ; these unniversitiea, h ccem.s, had even then, more freedom and in- tegrity than -were to be found elsewhere ; but at last they also concarre j ra the same oninion. * Tiifi .■5^4^ AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, The agents of Henry were not content with the suffrages of the universities : the opinions oi , the Rabbies vi'ere also demanded, but they were easily brought up in his favour. Thus fortified, the kit:g was resolved to oppose even the pope himself, 'tor his passion by no means could brook the delays ar,d subterfuges of the holy see : be- ing therefore, supported by his clergy, and au- thorised by the universities ; having seen the pope formerly degraded by a lay monarch, and Luther’s doctrine followed by thousands ; and yet still further instigated by the king of France, he, without further dispensation, annulled his ^ j. marriage wnth queen Catharine, ' ^53^* Cranmer become an arch- bishop, pronounced the decree. The queen, during this contest, alw^ays sup- ported her rights with resolution, and yet with modesty: at length, however, having found the inutility of further resistance, she retired to the country, without once offering to complain : ^he saw the power of her rival, and yielded without murmuring. Anna Bullen had already consented to marry the king, and even shared his bed tw'O months before his marriage with Catharine vras dissolved. Though her prudence and her virtue demanded esteem in the lormer parts of her conduct, yet she now’ for a mo- ment forgot the ties of each, and gave a loose to her triumph. Siie passed througii London with a magnificence greater than had ever been known before : the streets were strewed, the walls were Jiung, the conduits ran with wine, while slie ard her corpulent lover rode through the city like the heroine and knight of a romahce. In the mean time, the pope now thought himself obliged to hold no measures with the king : IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 24^ king; and being also frightened by the me- naces of the emperor, published a sentence, de- claring queen Catharine alone to be Henry'''s lawful wife, and requiring him to take her again, with a denunciation of censures in case of a refusal. When Henry received news of the sentence given against him at Rome, he was convinced that no measures could be, kept with the holy see, and therefore no longer de- layed to execute his long meditated scheme of separating entirely from the church of Rome. The parliament was at his devotion : a part of the clergy was for him as they had already de- clared against the pope, when they had decreed in favour of the divorce : the people were flat- tered with the expectation of being rid of the burtl'.en of their taxes; and such as were dis- pleased to see Italian bishops hold English church preferments, expected their downfall : in short ail things conspired to co operate with his de- signs ; he therefore at once ordered himself to be declared by his clergy the head of the church: The parliament confirmed his 4 j\ . title, and abolished all the autho- ’ ' ^5o4* rity of the pope in England, the tribute ofRe- ter- pence, and the collation to ecclesiastical be- nefices, The people came into the king's pfo- ject with joy, and took an oath, called the oath of Supremacy ; all the credit of the pope, that had subsisted for ages, was nov/ at once over- thrown, and few, except those whp held to re- ligious houses, seemed dissatisfied. . They who believed that it would hav.e been dangerous to bjeak wirh the pope, were now convinced that it could be effected with impunity ; and it was soon perceived, that all authority, whkh is not M 3 supporiei 2jo A^7 HISTORY OF ENGLAND, supported by power, is nothing but an empty Xl 4 lil c • LETTER XXXI. In this tr.anr:er be, either to abjure his opinionsj or to be burnt as an obstinate, heretic. - Lambert chose to die ra^. ther than forego what he had considered as the truth, and the sentence was soon after executed in Smithfield. When his legs and thighs were burnt off, there Mot being fire enough to con- sume the rest, two of the officers, raising his body up with, the halberts, pushed it into the flames, where it was soon consumed to afees. It was not w'ithaut reason^ therefore, that the present queen concealed her sentiments, and be- haved with caution ; upon this account she durst not intercede for three protcstant^^ who were burnt at Windsor just after her marriage : she once, indeed, attempted to argue with the king, but it had like to have cost her her file; where- fore, afterwnard.’’, she suffered the divines on each side to dispute, and the executioner to de- stroy. During these transactions, the king would frequently assemble the houses of parlia- n^.ent, and harangue^ them with florid orations,, in vvhich he would aver, that never prince had^ a greater affection for his people, or was more beloved by them. In every pause, of bis dis- course, some of his creatures, near his person. Would begin- to applaud : and this wms followed' by loud acclamations from the rest off the audi- ence, ■ It is, indeed astonishing, to 'what a pitch of cruelty he attained, and to. what a state of -ser- vility his people submitted: I can account for e-ither in no other manner, than that religious disputes had now so divided the people, and eet one against the other, that the king,. availing himself of the universal weakness which was produced by .universal dissensions, became, the tyrant of all. IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. '^59 But nature, at last, seemed kindly 'vviiling to rid the world of a monster that man was unable to destroy. Henry had been troubled, for some time, wdth a disorder in his leg, which was now grown very painful ; this atided to his mon- strous corpulency, which rendered him unable to stir, made him more furious than a chained lion ; he became froward and untractable : none dared to approach him without trembling. He had been ever stern and severe, he was now out- rageous ; flattery had corrupted all his senses ; he deemed it an unpardonable crime to contro- vert those opinions w’hich he w^as himself changing every hour. His courtiers, contend- ing among themselves, and conspiring the death of each other, had no inclination to make an enemy of him, Tims he continued, for four years, the terror of all, and the tormentor of himself. At length his end approached; he perceived that he had not long to live, his fat increasing, and his leg growing worse. He had already slaughtered severallavourites raised from obscure stations to share his dignities and bis cruelty; Moore, Fisher, Cromwell, and others, died upon the scaffold, and Woisey prevented it by his own death ; he was resolved to- make one victim more before he left the world, and that was the duke of Norfolk, who had formerly suppressed a rebellion excited against him, and who had, all along, been the vigilant minifter of his commands. This nobleman iiad, out- wardly, complied with the reformation, but, in his heart, favoured the pope ; the kiug knew this, and only wanted a pretext to put him and his son, the earl of Suiry, to death. It w'SS no difficult matter to find one ; the son had used the arms of Edward the Confessor in escut- cneon, %6o AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, cheon, and the father had left a blank space in his ov^n wheie they might be inserted. This was all the crime alledged against them, but it was suincient when the king gave his opinion that it was his will they should die. The earl of - Surry was beheaded uponR Tdwer-hili, and a warrant was sent to the Lieutenant of the Tower to cut off tire duke of Norfolk’s head in two days : this sentence was just upon the point of being executed, when the king’s own death gave him aa unexpected reprieve. Henry had been suffered to languish without any of his do- mestics having the courage to warn him of his, approaching end 3 . they who had ever come near him with trembling, now dreaded to give him this friendly admonition. At length Sir Antho-^- ny Deny bad the charity to inform him of his situation 3 he thanked this eourfier for his friend- ly admonition, and soon after expired, full of sorrow for his former guilt, and wuth all the horrors of approaching dissolution. Some sovereigns have been tyrants from- con- tradiction and revolt, some from being misled by favourites, and some from a spirit of party ; but, Henry was cruel from disposition alone, cruel in bis family 3 yet, tyrant as he was, he died peaceably a natural death, while Hensy VI. the most harmless of all monarchs, was , dethroned, imprisoned, and assassinated. It is a folly and a wickedness to say, that good or bad actions are their own recompence here: true is the doctrine of holy wwit ; The wicked have their good things in this life, the virtuous must look lor them in another. Our divines have taken much pains to vindi- cate the character of this vicious prince, as ii his . IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 261 his conduct and our reformation were, in fact, united: nothing can be more absurd than this, as if the most noble designs were not often brought about by the most vicious instruments^ we see even the cruelty and injustice of man em- ployed in our holy redemption. Ti LETTER XXXIL HE alterations, in the reign of Henry, were rather separations from the pope, than a in the reign of B . 1546. reformation of religious abuses his successor Edward VI. his son by Jane Sevmour, and heir to the crown, the errors of Rome, in reality, began to be reformed. I'his prince was but nine years old when he ascended the throne of his father, and the hiflory of his government is rather a detail of the methods pursued by his governors to reform the abuses of religion, than a series yoi politics or war; and their characters, rather than his, fliould be the object of the histori- ans search. The duke of Somerset w^as made protector of the minority, and thus engrossed the whole ad- miniftiation; the rest of ^ the council, which were joined with him, either sided with his views, or ineffectually opposed them. To strengthen his power, -,he marched against the Scots who had invaded England,, whic-h was their constant practice whenever they saw the country employed in faction and dispute; a (light victory, gained by him upon this occasion, acquired him popularity and power. I have more than once remarked, that, to have gained the hearts of the English, it was requisite to be a conqueror. But io*this character Somerset addM 26Z AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, added virtues of a much more amiable kind: he was humble, civil, affable, courteous to the meanest suitor, and a!} the actions of his life were directed by motives of religion and ho- nour : he, at the same time, had learned to look with contempt and detestation on the errors and corruptions of the church' of Rome, and was consequently the w/arm friend of arch' bishop Cranmer, who now' undertook to make a real reiormation, which Henry VlII. only pre- tended to do. You have seen, in Henry’s reign, that the only alterations he made in religion, were such as either favoured his passions, or increased his power. Thus all his subjects were under a pe- culiar restraint, which upon bis death was no longer continued : each took the liberty of speak- ing his thoughts upon religion, though tire laws of the last reign were still in force. In this di- vision of opinions, as it may easily be supposed, the tefornrers prevailed, for they had the prp- tector in their party: to that end, therefore, they procured a general visitation of churches, and reformed numberless abuses that were al- most held sacred by prescription. It was left to people’s choice to go to confession, w hich had hitherto been deemed an indispensable duty, or to neglect that practice. It was ordered that all images fhould be taken out of churches, priests were allowed to marry, the old mass was abo- lished, and a new liturgy drawn up, which re- trenclred several abuses in the service or the church, bating a few alterations. I'hese reformations w’cre evidently calculated for the benefit of the subject ; but still the po- pish clergy, wiio either w'ere e::pei!ed their mo- ■'''rrasteries. IN A SERIES OF LETTER?. 263 nasterie?, or had refused to conform, stirred up the people to lise in rebellion against them. We may judge from the number of places in which insurrections were made, that those reformati- ons were by no means received with universal satisfaction. There were, at once, insurrecti- ons in Wiltshire, Sussex, Ham.pshire, Kent, Gloucestei shire, Suffolk, Warwickshire, Essex, Hertfordshire, Leicestershire, Eutlandshive, and Worcestershire; and the fiames of war were rekindling through the whole kingdom. The protector, who h.oih by principle and interest was a fiierid to the populace, did every thing to redress their grievantes, and by that means stop- ped their fury a while. In fact, they had se- ra! complaints that were founded in justice: the nobility were become possessors ol the forfeited lands which belonged to the clergy, and instead of leaving them to be cultivated by the poor, as formerlv, inclosed them for the purposes of pleasire and magnificence. I'his necessarily drove nnnd-ers, besides the ejected friars, to the utmost strai s; but, to add to their misfortune?, an act was passed against them, the most severe that had hitherto been knowm in England ; it was .enacted, that, if any person should loiter, with- out offering himself to work, for three days to- getlier, he shall be adjudged a slave tor two years to the first informer, and should be m.arked on the breast with the letter V, or vagabond^ im- printed with an hot iron. It is nor to be won- dered at, there.toie, that there should be a ge- neral insurrection ol the people, when suffering such severe oppressions. But all the protector’s promises and endea- vours could r.or efleciually redress their erievan- ces ; he therefore was obliged to have recourse to 2,64 an history of ENGLAND, to violence. Tiiese were not the compact bo- dies of men that we have seen in former rebel- lions, headed by some discontented or ambitious courtier, and led on with conduct and success ; Henry VII. had efi'ectually suppressed all such these were now only a tumultuous rabble, with- out arms and without discipline, led on by some obscure desperado ; unreasonable in their de- mands, and divided among each other : the unhappy wretches were therefore easily over- thrown ; above a thousand of them were slain near Exeter by lord Russel, and two thousand more near Norwich by the earl of Waiwvick. The kingdom was now again inclining to an oristocracy ; the nobility by the late Cncrease of their pos'esslons, wmre grown powerful, and op- pressed the people at pleasure. They now be- gan to'find, that they had a separate interest from that of the commons, and conspired to carry on their power by union among themselves^, wdiiie the rest of the kingdom was divided. The duke of Somerset however, opposed this pro- ject, as he was ever a lavourite of tiie people ; and it was incumbent, therefore, to destroy his pjower before they could establish their own. With this view they placed Northumberland at their head, and began by spreading reports to destroy the protectors reputation ; they next won over the common council of London to favour their projects, and lastly had him accu- sed of high treason. The interest of the pro- . lector was overpowered by that of ^55°" yjjg rival; he W'as condemned, and lost his head upon Tower-hill., in all this struggle for power, the young king, by reason of his age, w’as barely passive ; he was only made the executor of the resentment^ and ambition IN’ A SERIES OF LETTERS., 255 ambition of the contending ministers, as either happened to prevail ; and at one time signed the order for execution on this side, at another time on that, but ever with tears in his eyes. A tenderness of disposition was one of the ami- able youth’s conspicuous qualities: to these were added a sagacity far surpassing his years, and learning that amazed all such as happened to, converse witii him. When the dignity of the throne was to be supported he behaved like a man; and, at other times, was gentle and affable as became his age. In short, he had such great qualities, or was said to have such, that mankind had reason to lament his short con- tinuance among them. It is very probable, however, that flattery would have contributed to destroy those talents, as it had those of his father; for few' princes, except his father, had received more flattery than he. He died of a defluxion upon his lungs, his death ^ being hastened by medicines given * ‘ 5 So* by a woman who confidently pretended she could cure him. His death made way for another scene of horrid barbarity, in which the kingdom was to be ruled by a weak and bigotted woman, who was herself ruled by merciless priests, who received their orders from the court of Rome. LETTER XXXIII. Y A OU have hitherto seen the succession to the throne of England, partly obtained by lineal descent, and partly by the aptitude for govern- ment in the person chosen: neither whclly he- reditary, nor quite elective, it has ever made ancestry the pretext of right, but in fact, the consent of the people sued for the support of V 0 L - I. N these .266 AN HISTORY OF ENGL AND, these pretensions. And this is the best species of succession that can be conceived ; it prevents that aristocracy, which is ever the result of a ^jsjovernment wholly elective; and that tyranny which is too often established where there is ne- ver an infringement upon hereditary claims. Whenever a monarch of England happened to be arbitrary, he generally considered the king- dom as his property, and not himself as a servant of the kingdom. In such cases it was natural for him, at his decease, to bequeath his domi- nions as he thought proper. ^Henry, in con- formity to this practice, -made a will, in which he settled the succession merely according to his usual caprice : Edward VI. was first nominated to succeed him, w’hose reign you have just seen ; then Mary, his eldest daughter by Catherine of Spain, but with a mark of special condescensi- on, by wliich he would intimate her illegitima- cy; the next that followed was Elizabe AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, fearing to offend her potent rival, she pretended to- comply : in secret, however, she was resolved to marr|f the earl of Darnly, her relation, who had the merit of being a catholic like herself': but, perhaps, whose greatest recommendation was the size of his person, which was large and comely. The party gained by Elizabeth in Scotland, tried every measare to prevent her design. It was agitated, whether the queen could marry without the consent of the states : several of the nobility rose in arms to prevent it-: the ambassadors of England made da,ily remon- strances upon its impropriety, but ail in vain : by a solemn act of the states. All hitherto appeared fortunate for Mary : her enemies banished, her^ rival defeated,' and her- self married to the man she loved ; yet this was but a flattering cairn : for soon, whether from the capriciousness of her temper, or from what other cause I will not pretend to determine, lord Darnly, notwithstanding the elegance of his person, became entirely disagreeable to her. She had conceived such an aversion to him, that it W’Hs soon obvious, even to the people ; and she took every metiiod to mortify him ia the eyes of the public. Her vices were the cause of all her misfortunes: there w/as at that lime in her court one David Kizzio, the son of a mu- sician at Turin, who had followed the ambssa- clor from that court into Scotland. As he un- derstood music to perfection, and sung a good bass, he was introduced into the queen’s con- cert, who was so taken with him, that she de- sired the ambassador, upon his departure, to leave IN A SFRIES OF LETTERS. ^ 2,87 leare Rizz.o behind. The excellence of his voice soon procured him greater familiarities; the queen loved him, confided in him, and ever kept him next her per#an. The new king, who only had the name, could not, without jealousy, see this insinuating foreigner receive all the queen’s favours, while he was treated only with contempt. Stung at once wdih envy, rage, and resentm.ent, he at length resolved to murder the man he could not equal, and consulted with some lords about the method of accomplishing his cruel design. . Men in power ever find ac- complices in their guilt; two other lords and he settled it, that the murder should be com- mitted before the face of the queen, as a punish- ment for her scandalous conduct. Thus pre- pared, they were iniormed that Rizzio was, at that very instant, in the queen’s chamber ; lord Darnly lead the way, conducti.ng the assassins up by a private staircase, and entered the queen’s chamber, who was at table with her favourite Rizzio. Darnly stood for some time leaning upon the back of her chair. His fierce looks, and unexpected intrusion, in some measure alarmed the queen, w’ho, however, kept silence^ ' not daring to call out; a little after lord Ruth- ven, one of the murderers, and George Doug- lass, entered abruptly, all in aims, and attended Avith more of their accomplices. The queen could no longer refrain, but asked the reason of this bold intrusion Ruthven m.ade her no an- swer, but ordered Rizzio to , quit a place of which he was unworthy. Rizzio now saw that he was the object of tl;eir vengeance, and, trembling w’ith fear, took hold of the queen’s- robes to put himself under her protection, who, on her part strove to interpose betw'ccn the as- sassins Iisr A SERIES OF LETTERS. 28S sassins and him ; Douglass, in the mean time, had reached the unfortunate Rizzio, and taking a dag- ger from the king’s side, drew it, and while the queen filled the room with her cries, he plunged it, in her presence, into Rizzio’s bosom- She was five months gone with child, and this hor- rid scene had such an elfect upon the fruit of her womb, that it is said her child, who w^s afterwards king James I. could never venture to look upon a drawn sword without shuddering. " Thus ended Rizzio, a man who has been more spoken of, than perhaps any other who rose from so mean a station. What his other talents to please might have been, is unknown'; but cer- tain it is, that several indications of his skill in music remain even to the present time: all those pleasing Scotch airs, which are set in such a pe- culiar taste, being universally allowed to be of his composition. This was but a temporary check upon Mary’s powder; she resumed her authority, by the influ- ence of her charms upon the earl her husband, who gave up the murderers of Rizzio to her resentment ; but they liad previously escaped in- to England. One criminal engagement, how- ever, was scarcely got over, when Mary lell into a second : the earl of Bothwell now’ began to hold the same place in her affections that Rizzio had formerly possessed. This new amour was attended with still more terrible consequen- ces than the former; her husband fella victim to it. His life was first attempted by poison, bur the strength of his constitution saved him for a short time, only to fall by a more violent death : he w’as strangled by night, the house in which the fact was committed being blown up with gun powder, in order to persuade the peo- mA*SERIESOF LETTERS. 2B9 pie that his death was accidental ; but his shirt , not being singed, and his slippers found near him, together with the blue marks round hir neck soon confirmed the suspicion of his real murder. His body was buried near that of Rizzio, among the Scottish kings. All orders of the state, the whole body of the people, accused Bothvvell of this assassination, and the last demanded justice upon him from the queen, for the late murder, openly arraigning him of the guilt. In this universal demand for justice, the queen, deaf to the murmurs of her people, deaf to the voice of decency, married the murderer of her husband, and prevailed upon him to divorce hisfoimer wile to make way lor this fatal alliance. Bothwell was possessed of all the insolence which attends great crimes . he assembled the piincipal lords of the state, and compelled them to sign an instrument, purporting, that they judg- ed It the queen’s interest to marry Bothwell, as he had lain with her against her will. These transac- tions excited the whole kingdom of Scotland to resistance, and Mary, abandoned by her follow- ers, was obliged to give herself up a prisoner to the confederacy. Bothw’ell fled to the Ork- ney islands. The queen, being confined iq Lochlevcn castle, was compelled to resign the crown to her son, as yet a child ; but she was permitted to nominate a regent. She turned her eyes upon the earl of Murray, who was then in France, and appointed him, expecting that he v*’Ould defend her cause, and restore her. In this, however, she w-as entirely mistaken ; Murray, upon his arrival, instead of comfort- . ing her, as lie formerly used, loaded her witii reproaches, which -reduced her almost to dcs- VoL. I. O pair- 290 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, pair. The calamities of the .great, however justly deserved, -excite pity and create friends ; an army of forty thousand men declared in her favour, and she escaped fronv prison to put her- self at their head. But this was only to encoun- ter new misfortunes ; she was met by a body of but four thousand men, commanded by the new regent, and was totally defeated- To avoid fal- ling into the hands of her enemies, she fled to- w^ards the borders of England. Elizabeth, be- ing informed of her misfortunes and her retreat, at first granted her an honourable reception, and ordei'ed her to be lodged at a gentleman’s house, where she was treated with sitting dig- nity. Elotwiths-tanding this kindness, she re- fused to see her until she had justified herself from the reproaches with which she was brand- ed. By this means Elizabeth, in a manner, de- clared herself umpire of the differences between the two parties ; and each accordingly pleaded their-cause before her; Mary, by her emissaries, and Murray the regent, in person. It was the <^ueen of England’s duty to protect, and not to examine, her royal fugitive: however, she lengthened our the pleadings on both sides, and enjoyed the pleasure of seeing her rival hum- bled, vin'thout passing any definitive sentence. Mary privately complained of her unworthy treatment and long delay ; these complaints were carried to Elizabeth, which ended in the queen of Scots being sent a prisoner to 7'utbury castle. The disasters of the crown of Scotland fell upon the people, divided as they were into fac- tions, and animated with mutual animosity. Tire 1 -egent, attempting to quell them, w^as him- self slain, and the assasgins, pretending to act IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 2gi m the name of their Imprisoned queen, made an incursion into England, and committed some ravages on the frontier counties. Elizabeth with an army quickly repressed these invaders, and procured the earl of Lenox, father to the late king, to be elected in his room. In the mean time, while she was employed in bringing Scot- land to measures, she found herself attacked, in her own dominions, by a conspiracy. The pope, in order to assist the rebels, procured a bull to be fixed up in several places in London, where- by he excommunicated Elizabeth, and absolved her subjects from their oaths of allegiance. This bull was fixed up by John Felton, grand uncle to him whom we are shortly to see act another desperate part. John Felton, when he was told that the government wms in pursuit of him, disdained to fly: he waited with intrepi- dity till he was taken, and then boldly confessed -the fact wdth wmich he was charged, and glo- ried in the commission: he might have received pardon upon acknowledging his crime, but he refused it, and w’as hanged near the place, meeting death writh a resolution that astonished even the hfave. Whai noble actions might not such a mind have been capable of, had it first received a right direction ? These efforts, in favour of the queen of Scots, only served to hasten her ruin. The two queens entered into various negociations and frivolous treaties ; the one attempting to humble her pri- soner, the other, with fruitless pii !e, attempt- ing to preserve the lustre of fallen majesty. Scotland, in the mean time, streamed with blopd : the papists and the protestants eatr.Ied on a civil war. The archbishop of St. A; drews, one of the warmest partizans of Ma^v, was O a taken 29Z AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, taken in arms, and executed upon the depositi- on of his confessof, who swore, that this pre- late had privately confessed that he was an ac- complice in the murder of Darnley. The greatest misfortunes of Mary rather pro- ceeded from her friends than her enemies. The duke of Norfolk, w'ho professed a friendship for her, expected by her means, to rise to the British throne : he therefore, privately negotiat- ed a marriage with her, and she, on the other hand, attempted to break off, that which she had already contracted with Bothwell. He form.ed a party in London, feeble, indeed ; but he ex- pected assistance from the intrigues of the pope, and the arms of Spain. PJe himself w^as a weak man, and his plots were but shallow ; the spies of Elizabeth discovered them all: he was arrested, accused, condemned, and executed. This r/obleman’s blood only contributed to fas- ten the' chains of the unfortunate Mary: yet still she conceived hopes from foreign alliances, which seldom are of any weight ,in domestic disputes. She had the league in France in her favour, the pope, the Spaniards, and the Jesu- its ; she not only hoped to be reinstated in her former pow-er, but to have the crown of Eng- land, to which she laid claim as her birth-right, added to her own. In pursuance of these de- signs, a new^ conspiracy was formed, iourteen of the conspirators executed, and, last of all Mary w as brought to a trial, before a queen wdro had no other right to be her judge but that of power. Forty-two members of parliament, and five judges, were sent to examine her in prison : she protested against their right, yet made a defence : they had originally no foun- dation in justice to try her> and they carried on their 1^61 A SERISS OF LETTERS- ^^93 thfir accusation with only a shew of equity. In short, after an imprisonment of eighteen years, this unhappy princess was brought to the block, End beheaded in one of the rooms ^ tn qf her prison, which had been hung ’ ’ * ^ ^ in black for the occasion. This action stained the reign of Elizabeth with such colours, that neither her dissimulation, nor the prosperity of her reign, could ever wash away : her subiects, while they found themselves happy, attempted to excuse her condu61, but conscience internally condernned her cruelty, and time, that speaks plain, at last declares her guilt. In treating the actions of mankind, we almost ever find both sides culpable, and so it was here : Mary, who was a murderer and adulteress, died by the or- ders of Elizabeth, who was at once cruel and unjust. LETTER XXXVI. f-p JL HE constitution of England took a long se- ries of years settle into form, nor even yet was its structure entirely completed : the mo- narchs still preserved a degree of ancient pride, and often were guilty of injustice and tyranny, without being called to an account. Had the actions of Elizabeth, which are now the subject of our praise, being performed by one of our present monarchs, they would be sufficient to cause his expulsion. There is soraethinglucky in every great reign, like this in view: its lustre IS rather owing to the indifferent periods that preceeded it, than to its own intrinsic value. Elizabeth left her kingdom, it must be owned, a better state than she found it ; but her acti- ons 294 HISTORY OF ENGLAND, ons should be neither the subject of our praise, nor the object of our imitation. We see a mixture of cruelty anu gallantry in all the transactions of these times : while Eliza- beth was thus plotting the death of Mary, she was, at the same time, employed in a treaty of marriage with the young duke of Anjou. This, however, came to nothing, the queen resolving to enjoy that power uncontrouled, which her subjects had not yet learned to abridge. But, though she disliked an husband, yet none more passionately desired to have a lover. It is thought, indeed, lier affections were cordin- ed to Platonic wishes only, and her age, for she now began to decline, seemed to favour the sup.- position ; l>ut the choice oflrer favourites coun- tenanctd'the contrary report, and her soirow lor the earl of Leicester, who died about this time, confirmed it. But one favourite always made icon) for another, and Devereux, earl of Essex, succeeded Dudley, earl of Leicester. This no- bleman was young, active, ambitions, witty and handsome : in the field and at court he ever appeared with superior lustre. In all the masques which were then performed, the earl and Eliza- beth were generally coupled as partners ; and, though she was almost sixty, and he not hall so old, yet flattery had taught her to forget the disparity c,f age ; the w^orld told her she was still beautiful and young, and she was inclined to think so. The young earfs interest in the queen’s heart, as may natur\rlly be expected, promoted his interest in the stfate : he conduct- ed all things without a rival, and, wherever he went, he acquired a degree of unbounded po- pularity. Young and inexperienced as he was. Ire at length began to fancy the applause of the people given to his merits, and not to his fa- vour : IN. A SERIES OF LETTERS. ^95 vour : thus possessed of a false opinion of his own security, to use the words ot the poet, he kicked down the ladder by which he rose; he began to despise the qileen, and was heard to drop some expressions, that he thought her, in spite of flattery, both old and ugly. Her re* monstrances, on this occasion, were such as might have been expected from a disappointed girl, very angry, yet wishing for a vindication. She gave him, in a passion, a box on the ear, par- doned him, employed him: he again transgress- ed, and she again pardoned the offence. Secure in her affections, he at length proceeded to ac- tual disobedience : his former favour had gained him -enemies, his present insolence lost him the friendship of the queen; he was condemned to retirement, w'hen he might have been caphally convicted. He now came to a sense of his mis- conduct, and was resolved to try the long un- practised arts that had first brought him into favour. , Immediately after sentence, when he was preparing for retirement in the country, he first assured the queen, that he could never be happy till he again saw those eyes which* were used to shine upon him with such lustre; that, in expectance of that happy moment, like another Nebuchadnezzar, he would dwell with the beasts of the field, and be wet with the dew ot heaven, till she again propitiously took pity on his sufferings. This romantic message seem- ed peculiarly pleasing to. the queen ; she thought- him sincere from the consciousness of her own sincerity: she replied, that after some time, when convinced of his humility, something per- haps might be expecteti from her lenity. This hope of pardon made him think slightly of his guilt: his pride once more increasing with his success,, 29^ AN tllSTORY OF Ex'f GLAND, success, he laid designs of destroying his rival in power, and securing the person of the queen. With this resolution, he imprisoned the queen's messengers, headed a few malcontents, and inarched through the city, exhorting the citi- ;zens to arms, and crying out. For the queen! for the queen ! Daring a long march, not one citizen thought proper to join him, though num- bers, led by curiosity, ran to see him pass by» In this disappointment, word was brought that he was piociairned a traitor; irpon which . Ire made one effort more to excite an insurrecti- on, but vvitiiout success he tiierefore now re- solved to return to iris own house, but found the street secured by a great chain and a guard ol soldiers. As he saw" no other way to force his passage, but by an attack upon the guards, he immediately fell on, attended by his follow- ers; • but was beat back and wounded in the tbjoh. He then went down to the water-side, and putting liimself and his retinue on board small boats, he escaped to his house, which he fortified in the best manner he could. I’he house wms soon inveited by the lord Admiral, and the earl and his lollov/era were obliged to deliver themselves up; the earl of Southamp- ton was a companion in his guilt, and his mis- ioriuiies; they were soon after brought to their trials and condemned to die. When the day of ids death came, the queen appeared irresolute; she sent an order to stop the execution, and soon after ordered it to proceed. However romantic it may seem, she felt in her bosom all the fluctua- tions of love and resentment, and was irresolute which passion to obey ; her resentment, at last, Ji n A prevailed; he was executed six cays . . . j oo. gPi-gj. sentence, and died with penitence snd resolptioh. Thus IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 297 Thus died a favourite who had merits, but did not owe his rise to them : he was gallant, romantic, and ostentatious : his genius for shows, and those pleasures that carry an image of war, was as remarkable as his spirit in the profession itself; and, had he been possessed of humility equal to his abilities, he at last might have mounted a throne instead of a scaffold. The queen, at first, carried her resentment so far as to have a sermon preached at St. Paul’s cross to blacken his memory : his haughty behaviour, and unguarded expressions, had entirely alienat- ed her, affections, and imprinted an asperity, which, it seems, even his death could not scd- ten. i With the death of this favourite, Elizabeth’s pleasures seemed to expire; she afterwards went through the business of the state merely from habit, but her happiness was no more. Plis- torians are fond of representing all their charac- ters without passion, and to give to every action of the great either political or rational motives ; the^ therefore treat this queen’s affection as a fa- ble : but many of the actions of her life appear •dictated -by resentment or regard, nor ever had woman a greater variety of caprice; the great feel as the rest of mankind, and her passions were particularly violent and lasting. >She lived but a short time after the death of Essex, and had the mortification of being forsaken by most of her courtiers before she died, who now strove to court the favour of king James, whom she had appointed her successor. She died a d in the seventieth year of her age, ' ’ and the forty-fifth of her reign. Her charac- ter differed with her circumstances; in the be- ginning of her reign she was moderate and hum- ble. 29S HISTORY OF ENGLAND, "b^e, towards the end haughty and severe; she Was indebted to her good fortune tliat her minis- ters were excellent, but it was owing to her want of wisdom, that her favourites, who were chosen more immediately by herself, were unwor- thy. Though she was possessed of excellent sense^ yet she never had the discernment to dis- cover that she w^anted beauty: to flatter her charms, even at the age of sixty-five, w'as the surest way of gaining her interest and esteemr She was greater in her public than in her private character, and tliey most disliked and feared her who were placed next her person. But, what- ever might have been the queen’s character, the character of her people, at that period, demands, cur praise and im'tition. Permit me to reserve that glorious picture of genius struggling to get free from barbarity, to the succeeding letter. LETTER XXXVII. w HATEVER punishm.ents or cruelties were exerted in this reign, they mostly fell upon 2he great ; but never was the people of England more happy internally, or more fdrmidable abroad, than during this period, The vices and virtues of a nation are often wholly ascribed to the monarch who rules them ; but such in- fluence extends only to a narrow sphere; no single reign, however good, nor indeed any succession of virtuous reigns, can give happiness, morals, and arts, a general spread, unless the people be pre disposed for the reception. From Nei va to Antonius, what a noble succession of Roman Emperors ! and yet, even under them, Rome was declining fast into barbarity. It was not ow’ing to Elizabeth alone that England en- joyed IN A SERIES Ob LETTERS. joyed all Its present happiness; the people, as if spontaneously, began to exert their nativ# vigourj and every art and every genius put forth all theisr' powers. The English were put in possession of neither- new nor splendid acquisitions, nor had they such great influence in foreign courts ; but commerce grew up among them, and, almost without a protector, flourished with vigour. The people now began to know their real ele- ment, and this rendered them more happy than the foreign conquests, or the former victories, of the celebrated kings ; a nation, which was once subject to every invasion, and the prey of every plunderer, now became- powerful, polite, laborious and enterprising. The newly success- ful voyages of the Spaniards and Portuguese ex- cited their emulation j they fitted out several expeditions for discovering a northern passage to China, and, though disappointed in their aim, their voyages were not wholly fruitless. Drake and Cavendish surrounded the globe, and dis- covered skill and courage superior to those very nations which had first shewed them the way. The famous Sir Walter Raleigh, without any assistance from the government, colonized New England. These expeditions at length formed one of the most powerful roaring of Europe, and they were able to oppose the fleet of Spain, called by the boasting title of the Invincible Ar- mada, with an hundred ships. When the fleet of Spain had been destroyed, partly by tempests, and partly by conduct, the English' remained masters at sea. This superiority was constantly increasing, till another victory, gained over ths fleet of Phi lip HI. gained them a naval sovereignty, which, 3-00 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, which they have ever since inviolably preserved, and which has been scarce ever molested by a competitor. . But external commerce was not more culti- vated than internal m.anufactures ; several of the Flemings, wdao were persecuted from their own country, by the bad conduct of Spain, found an asylum in England ; these more than repaid the protection they found, by the arts which they in- troduced, and the industry which was thus propa- gated by their example. Thus far in the useful arts : but, in the polite arts, England excelled all the world ; so that many writers fix the Augustan age of literature to that period. The disputes, caused by the re- formation of religion, had retarded die progress lof our language among the powerful^ yet spread a love of literature among the lower orders of the state. I'he people now began to learn to read, and the Bible, translated into the vulgar tongue,, was not only serviceable in improving their morals, but their taste. The persecution ,of Mary was, however, of great detrirnent to the language : the reformers, being driven into foreign countries, on their return, introduced into their sermon? a language compounded of those dialects w hich they had acquired abroad, and the language of England was actually in a state of barbarity when Elizabeth came to the throne. Latin sermons w^ere in fashion, and few of the nobility had either the courage, or the taste, to declare themselves the patrons of leaia- ing._ , Either the fortune or the discernment of Eli- zabeth; made Parker archbishop of Canterbury ; and he set himself assiduously to reionn the eor- xuptioi s of style, both by precept and example; for IN A SERIES OF I.ETTERS, 30I for this purpose he renewed and corrected the English translation of the Bible, and printed it with royal magnificence. Elis own style had all the eloquence of the times; it vras manly and concise, but wanted smoothness. The earl of Essex, a, sketch of whose history you have seen, was himself one of the greatest improvers of our language ; his education had freed him from the technical barbarities of the schools, and his style ran on unembarrasjed by the stilfness of pedantry. His letters (particu- larly that which he wrote from Ireland to the queen) are regarded as models ol fine writing to this day. Sir Walter Raleigh has the reputation of being one of the Improvers of our language: and none can contest wnth hirri the honour of being foremost in the improvement of our his- tory. Elooker, the author of the Ecclesiastical , Polity, was the first Englishman whose style, upon theological subjects, does honour to his memory as a Scholar and a gentleman : but wT.at particularly deserves notice is, that a man, like him, Jbred up in poverty, and seclusion from the polite, should express himself in a more mo- dern and elegant manner than his contemporary authors, Sidney or Raleigh, who w^ere bred at court. I shall mention only one prose writer more, the greatest anti wisest of all our English philoso- phers, and perhaps the greatest philosopher a.mong men : 1 need hardly mention the name of Francis Bacon, lord Verulam : his style is co- pious and correct, and his learning only surpassed by his -genius. Am.ong the poets, two of particular note attract aur attention, Spencer and Shakespear ; to attempt an eucominm of cither is needlefs aU 302 AN HISTORY OF RNGLA,ND, all praise must be too low for their merits, or un- necessary to make them more known. In short the English now began to rival the Spaniards, who at that time, aimed at univer- sal monarchy, both in arts and arms: the city of London became more large and more beauti- ful; the people of the country began to consi' der agriculture as one of the most useful and honourable employments ; the English were in power, the second nation in Europe, and they were, shortly, to become the greatest, by becoming the most free. During this reign, a few suffered death for their religious opinions ; but we may venture to assert, that they raised the disturbances by which they suffered ; for those who lived in quiet were permitted to enjoy their opinions under the ne- cessary restraints. If we look through history, and consider the rise of kingdoms, we shall not find, in all its volumes, such an instance of a nation becom- ing wise, powerful and happy, in so short a time. The source of our felicity began in Elenry VII. and, though repressed by the in- tervening tyrannies, yet, before the end of Eli- zabeth’s reign, who was only his grand-daugh- ter, the people became the most polished and the most happy people upon earth. Liberty, it is true, as yet, continued to fluctuate ; Eliza- beth knew her own power, and often stretched it to the very limits of despotism : but, when commerce was introduced, liberty necessarily entered in its train : for there never was a na- tion perfectly commercial and perfectly des- potic. LETTER IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 303 LETTER XXXVIII. Y OU are now to turn to a reign, which, thorgh not splendid, was useful ; the English only wanted a season of peace to bring those arts to perfection which were planted in the preceding reign. No monarch was fonder of peace than James I. who succeeded Elizabeth ; and none ever enjoyed a reign of more lasting tranquillity. Historians, for what reason I know not, are fond of describing this monarch's transactions with ridicule ; but for my own part I cannot avoid giving just applause both to his wisdom and felicity. King James came to the throne w'ith the uni- versal approbation of all orders of the state; for, in his person was united every claim to the crown, that either descent, bequest, or parlia- mentary sanction could confer. But on his first arrival, it was readily seen, that he by no means approved of the treatment of his mother, Mary queen of Scots, and not only refused to wear mourning himself for the late queen, by whom she had been beheaded ; but also denied admis- sion to any who appeared in mourning upon her account. Upon a review of his conduct, there are few of this monarch’s actions that do not seem to spring from motives of justice and virtue : his only error seems to consist in applying the des- potic laws and maxims of the Scottish govern- ment to the English constitution, which was not susceptible of them. He began his reign by a laudable attempt to unite both the king- doms into one ; but this the jealousy of the Eng- lish prevented : they were apprehensive, that the posts and employments, which were in the gift of the court might be conferred on the Scotch, . whom 304 an history of ENGLAND, whom they were, as yet, taught to regard as fo- reigners. By the repulse in this instance, he found the people he came to govern very different from those he had left, and perceived that the li- berty and the spirit of the English could not be restrained by the shadows of divine right and pas- sive obedience. He now therefore, attempted to correct his first mistake, and to peruse the English laws, as he had formerly done those of his own country, and by these he resolved to govern. He was in this second attempt disappointed in his aim. In a government so ductuating as that o^f England, custom was ever deviating from law, and M'hat was enacted in one reign was contradicted by precedent, in another; the laws and the man- 4jers of England were, at this particular junc- ture, very different from each gther. The laws had all along declared in favour of an unlimited prerogative ; the present manners, on the con- trary, were formed by instruments and upon principles of liberty. All the kings and queens before him, except such as were weakened by intestine’ divisions, or the dread of approaching invasion, issued rather commands than received advice from their parliaments. James was early sensible of their conduct in this respect, and strove to establish the prerogative upon the lawi, unmindful of the alteration of manners among the people, who had, in the reign of queeg Mary, got an idea of their own power, of which, when the majority are once sensible, they never desist from defending. Numberless, therefore, were the disputes be- tween the king and his parliament, during this whole reign; one attempting to keep the royal splendor unsullied, the other aiming at lessening the dangerous part of prerogative; the one la- bouring A SERIES OP LETTERS. 30^ bouring to preserve the laws and institutions of fovtoev reigns, /he other stedfast in asserting the inherent privileges of mankind. Thus we see virtue was the cause of the dissension on either side : and the principles of both, though seem- ingjy opposite, were in fact, founded either in law or in reason. When the parliament would not grant a subsidy, James had examples enough, among his predecessors, to extort a benevolence. Edvii’ard IV. Henry VIII. and others, had often done this ; and he was entitled, undoubtedly, by precedent, to the same privilege. The house of commons, on the other hand, who began to find themselves the protectors of the people, and not the passive instruments of the crown, Justly consideied, that this extorted benevolence might, at length, make the sovereign entirely indepen- dant of the parliament, and therefore complained against it, as an infringement of their privileges. These attempts, of the crown, and those mur- iifiurings of the people, continued through this whole reign, and first gave rise to that spirit of parly which has ever since subsisted in England; the one side declaring for the king’s prerogative, the other for the people’s liberty. Whenever the people, as I have already ob- served, get sight of liberty, they never quit the view : the com.mons, as may he naturally ex- pected in, the present juncture, gained ground, even though defeated; and the monarch, not- withstanding his professions and reeolmions to keep his prerogative untouched, was every day losing some small part of his authority. Histo- rians are apt to charge this to his imbecility ; but it, in reality, arose from the spirit of the times: the clergy, who had returned irom ba- nishment during the last reign, had disseminated republican principles among their hearers, and no 3o6 an history of England^ no art nor authority could check its growth, so that, had the most active, or the, most diligent monarch upon earth been then seated on the throne, yet he could not have preserved .the an-r eient privileges of English monarchy unim- paired. . The clemency and, the justice of this mo^ narch’s reign early appeared from that spirit of moderation Vhich he shewed to the professors of each religion; the minds of the people had been long irritated against eacfi other, and each party persecuted the rest, as it happened to prevail : James wisely observed, that, men should be puT nished only for actions, and not for opinions; each party murmured against him, and the unU versal complaint of every sect was the best argu-r ment of his moderation towards all. Yet, mild as he was, there was a project con- trived in the very beginning of his reign, for the re-establishment of popery, which seemed to be even of infernal extraction ; a more hor-^ rid or a more infernal scheme never entered into the human mind ; the massacre of St. Bartho- lomew, in France, in which sixty thousand pro- testants were murdered in cold blood, was, in reality, not so dreadful. The catholics of Eng- land had expected some condescensions from the king,, w’hich he was unwilling t6 grant: this refusal determined them to take different measures for the establisment of their religion and their party; they were resolved to cut off the king and both houses of parliament at one blow^ The house where the pailiament of England sits is vaulted underneath and in these vaults the papists were determined to lay gun- powder, in order to blow up the king and all the members of both houses at their next sit- ting. For this deed of desperation a number of IN A SERIES OF LETTERS. 307 of persons united, among whom were Robert Catesby, Thomas Piercy, kinsman to the earl of Northumberland ; John Grant, Ambrose Rook- Mmod, Christopher Wright, Francis Tresham, Guy Fawkes, and Everard Digby. Flow hor- rid soever the contrivance, yet every member seemed faithful and secret in the league, and, about two months before the sitting of parlia- ment, they hired the cellar under the parlia- ment house, and bought a quantity of coals viuth which it was then filled, as if for their own use ; the next thing done was to convey pri- vately, thirty six barrels of gun- powder, which had been purchased "in Floiland, and which were covered under the coals and faggots. The day for the sitting .of parliament approached ; never was treason more secret, or ruin more apparent- ly inevitable: the conspirators expected the day with impatience, and gloried in their meditated guilt. A remorse of private friendship saved the kingdom, when all the ties, divine and hu- man, were too w'cak to save it : Thomas Pier- cy conceived a design of saving the life of the lord Monteagle, his intimate friend and compa- nion. About ten days before the sitting, this nobleman, upon his return home, received a letter from a person unknown, the messenger making off as soon as he had delivered it ; the letter was to this effect : Si^ryy away from this par- liament, for God and man have concur red to punjsh the wickedness of the times. Think not slightly of this warning ; though the danger does not appear, yet they shall receive a terrille Ldow, without know- ing from whence it comes. The danger tvillhe past as soon as you have burnt this better, and tInscoun~ sel may do you good, but can wt do you harm- The contents of this mysterious letter surprised and puzzled the nobleman to whom it was ad - dvsised 3©$ A» MISTORY OF INGI-AN®, dpessed: he communicated it instantly to the se- csetary of state, and the secretary shewed it to the council ; none o# them were capable of comprehending the meaning of it, and they re- solved to communicate it to the king. In this Universal agitation between doubt and apprehen- sion, the king was the first who penetrated the meaning of its fatal contents ; he coucluded that some sudden danger was preparing by means of gun-powder. The Lord Chamberlain sent pro- Nov.t 160 persons, the very night be- ^ fore the sitting of parliament j to examine the vaults above-mentioned : there the whole train of powder was discovered, and a man in a cloak and boots, with a dark lanthorn in his hand, preparing for the dreadful attempt ; this was Guy Fawkes, who passed for Piercy’s servant. The atrociousness of his guilt inspired him with resolution ; and, with an undaunted air, he told them, that, had he blown them and himself up together, he had been happy. He ob- .stinately tefused to name his acpomplices : the sight of a rack, however, at length brought him to a ponfession. No nation fears death less than the EngUsli, but none dreads torments more. The conspirators who had prepared all things to second the mine at V/estminster, finding their plot discovered, fled diiferent ways to assemble their catholic friends, whom they expected to rise in their defence ; but, the country being every where alarmed against them, they were at last forced, to the number of about an hun- dred, to stop at an house in Warwickshire, where they were resolved to sell their lives dearly. A spark of fire happening to fail among some gun- powder that was laid to dry, it blew up, and sg maimed the principal conspirators, that the sur vivors resolved to'open the gate^ and sally throctgh IN A SERIES OF LETTER?, 309 the ncmltitude that surrounded the house. Some instantly were slain with a thousand w^nunds ; Catesby, Piercy, and Winter, standing back to back, fought long and desperately, till in the end, the two first fell covered with blood, and the other was taken alive: Such as survived the slaughter were tried and convicted ; several fell just victims to justice, and others experienced the king’s mercy. Tw'O jesuits. Garnet and Oldcorn, who were privy to the plot, sulfered with the rest : the king maintained that they were punished justly; but, by their own party, they were regarded as martyrs to religion, though without ground, for James w'as too humane to eondemn any upon such slight motives as those of opinion. The discovery and extinction of this conspi- racy, which was entirely owing to the wisdom of the king, gained him the love of his subjects, though it had but little influence over his parlia- ment, in extorting supplies. His desire of peace with foreign states diminished his authoiity at home; for, though he talked boldly of his pre- rogative in parliament, yet, unlike some of his predecessors, he had no standing army to back his pretensions : his speeches, which were ra- ther arguments in favour of royal authority than directions or advice, only put both houses upon arguing with him in his own way, but not upon complying with his requests. They refused him supplies, when tliey knew it could be done vtath impunity^ His liberaluy and his indigence of- ten forced him to condescensions, which, when once granted, could never again be recalled: thus, while he thought himself enlarging the royal prerogative, he was, in reality, abridging it on every side. Perhaps 310 AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, Perhaps the opposition this king met with ftom hia parliament was the motive of his en- couraging favourites, who might help him to reduce them to his measures: his first choice was fixed upon Robert Carr, who, from a pri- vate gentleman, was brought up, through all the, gradations of preferment, till created earl of Somerset. An amour betw'een this gentle- man and the countess of Essex, one of the lewd- est, yet finest woman of her time, at last ter- minated in his disgrace : his friend Sir Thomas Overbury, had declared against his marrying this lady, who was espoused to another this advice procured the resentment of Somerset, and the hatred of the countess. The king, by false pretences, was instigated to confine Sir Thomas in the To^ver, and here the earl and the countess caused him to be poisoned. When this transac- tion came to the king’s knowledge, he delivered him to public justice, by \\hich he was con- demned : but he received the loyal pardon, though he ever after continued in disgrace. His next, and his greatest favorite, was George Viliars, afterwards duke of Buckingham, whose person and beauty first drew the king’s attentiori and regard. , This nobleman was the first who was ever created a -duke in England without being allied to the royal family ; it may be rec- koned among the most capricious circumstances of this reign, that a king, who was bred a scho- lar should choose, for his favourites, the most illiterate of his courtiers ; ' that he who trembled at a drawn sword, should lavish favours on one who promised to be the hero of romance. Buck- ingham first inspired young prince Charles, who w-as afterwards famous for his misfortunes and death, with a desire of going disguised into Spain, to court the Infanta ; their adyvrJuv'g this IN A SERIES OE LETTERS. 3 *» ^his romantic expedition could fill novels, and have actually been made the subject of many. Charles was the knight-errant, and Buckingham served under him as squire: they set out post, and travelled through France under the names of Jack and Tom Smith. They appeared at Paris in large bushy periwigs, which shadowed their faces. They were received in Spain with all possible respect ; but Buckingham filled the whole court with intrigues, adventures, sere- nades, and jealousy. To make the whole com- plete, he fell in love with the dutchess of Oli- varez, the prime minister’s wife, and insulted the prime minister. These levities were not to be endured at such a court as that of Spain, where jealousy is so prevalent> and decorum so necessary; the match w^as broke off, and the prince was permitted to return in safety. A match for this prince was soon after negoci- ated w^ith Flenrietta, the daughter ol Henry IV. •of France, and this met with better success than :the former ; Charles had seen this princess, when he passed through that kingdom in disguise ; he admired her beauty, and from every quarter was informed of her sense and discretion. A dispen- .sation W'as got from the pope for her marrying a protestant prince, but king James died before the consummation of the nuptials. Were we to take the character of this mo- narch as described by Rapia, we should consi- ..der him as one of the worst of princes, even while he pretends to deierid him. It is this in- judicious historian’s method, wTerever he finds a good character among our kings to load it with reproach: w’herever he meets a bad one, to extenuate its guilt: so that every monarch is levelled by him to one common standard of in- difference. His remarks upon particular facts are 3lt AN HISTORY OF ENGLAND, are similar to his characters : whatever other hts- torians have laid down as motives, he undertakes to contradict, and fancies that he thus acquires an air of impartiality. In the present instance he strongly insinuates throughout, that James was a papist, with no better proofs than his being ever a favourer of toleration : he had but just before blamed Mary, and with reason for her implaca- ble partiality, yet he condemns James only because ‘he was impartial. To this monarch the English are indebted for that noble freedom of opinion they have since enjoyed, a benefit of which nar- row-minded bigots have too often strove to de- , ! prive them. With regard to foreign negociations, James nei- ther understood nor cultivated them ; and, per- haps, in the government of such a kingdom as England, domestic politics alone are requisite. Plis reign was marked with none of those splen- dors of triumph, nor any new conquests or ac- quisitions : but the arts were nevertheless silently and happily going on to improvement: reason was extending its influence, and shewing mankind a thousand errors in religion and government that had been livetted by long prescription. Peo- ple now no longer joined to some popular leader, but each began to think lor himself. The re- formation had introduced a spirit of liberty, even while the constitution and the laws were built upon arbitrary power. James taught them, by his own example, to argue upon these topics: he set up the divine authority ef kings against the natural privileges of the people: the subject began in controversy, and it w^as soon found that the monarch’s was the weakest side. , ^ND OF THE FIRST VOLUME. / Date Due I- DATE DUE MAR 1 8 ; '(509 UNIVERSITY PRODUCTS, INC. #859-5503