CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
DA 256.T74 ne " U " iVereity Library 
 mnfnL,?L\iS!Snf the Fifth 
 
 3 1924 027 928 492 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924027928492 
 
a w. amiift- 
 
 i^nature of Henry V. (R.H) 
 
THE HISTORY 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH: 
 
 KING- OF ENGLAND, 
 LORD OF IRELAND, AND HEIR OF FRANCE. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEORGE MAKEPEACE TOWLE, 
 
 AUTHOR Oj? " GLIMPSES OP HISTORY." 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 4& & MS BEOADWAY. 
 1866. 
 
E>.TEr.Ei>, according to Aft uf Confess, In the year l'-Cfi, by 
 
 D. APPLETON .t CO., 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of tho United Slates for the Southern District 
 
 of New Yuri.. 
 
THE MEMOBT OF 
 
 THOMAS, LORD MACAULAY, 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED. 
 
P E E F A C E 
 
 The reign which the following pages purpose to 
 illustrate, was in many respects a remarkable one. A 
 momentous transition of modern society was progress- 
 ing during the period in wliich it was cast. Western 
 Europe was passing from feudalism to the adojrfcion 
 of monarchical systems. The conflict between these 
 ideas had been raging for more than a century before, 
 and continued to rage with equal violence for nearly 
 a century after. The vigor and popularity of the 
 reign of Henry the Fifth accelerated the march toward 
 the idea of monarchy. 
 
 In that reign, too, the military glory of England 
 reached its zenith. The military taste and habit had 
 arrived at their full ripeness. The conquest of FranOe 
 was completed. England became the first of warlike 
 powers. 
 
 Henry the Fifth, the second sovereign of the Lan- 
 castrian line, and but one degree removed from usurp- 
 ation, occupied a firmer throne, and received a more 
 unanimous loyalty, than any preceding King. 
 
VI 1'KKKACE. 
 
 The reformation of John Wiekliffc, which had 
 begun just before he ascended the throne, was, during 
 his reign, preparing the Avay fur religious revolutions 
 in the future. At an era so remote, the doctrines of 
 liberty of conscience and popular rights had begun to 
 be discussed. 
 
 The personal character of Henry is full of interest. 
 It was a union of chivalric traits with rare mental qual- 
 ities. The beauty of his person, his youth, his man- 
 ners, his various talents, his great heart, and his spirit 
 of lofty purpose, lend a charm to his history which is 
 found in the history of no other English King. 
 
 It is attempted to present a truthful narrative of 
 his character and career. There is no reliable history 
 of him extant. The sources from which the narrative 
 is derived are principally the old chroniclers — Froissart, 
 Monstrelet, Hall, Holinshed, Fuller, Baker, Fabyan, 
 Speed, Rapin, Chronicler A, St. Remy, Livius, Elm- 
 ham, "Walsingham, Des Ursins, Otterbourne, Hardynsr. 
 Laboureur, and Capgrave ; various historians of more 
 or less authority — Hume, Turner, Lingard, Camden, 
 Carte, Guthrie, Michelet, Sir Harris Nicholas, Lord 
 Brougham, Tyler, Redniayne ; manuscripts in the 
 British Museum — Fcedera, Harleian IMS., records of 
 Parliament, State papers ; and Halliweli's Letters of 
 the Kings of England. Some facts in the account 
 of Queen Katharine of Yalois are taken from Miss 
 Strickland's Queens of England. 
 
 IiciHTON, Ani/Hxl, 180fi. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION". 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Feom the Cbusades to the Death of Eiohaed the Second, . 1 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 John oe Gaunt, Duke of Lancasteb, 40 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 The Rebellion" and Usuepation of Henby of Lanoastee, . 69 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The Reign of Kino Henry the Foubth, suenamed Bolingbboke, 113 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The Childhood and Youth of Heney of Monmouth — His Chae- 
 aotee — The Reeellion of Glendowee— The Welsh Cam- 
 paigns — The Battle of Sheewsbuey, . . . . .164 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The "Welsh Campaigns — Heney's Populaeity — The Cessation of 
 the Welsh Rebellion — Glendowee's End and Chaeaotee — 
 Heney a Counoilloe of State — Negotiations foe his Mae- 
 biage— Eeenoh Relations — The Last Days of Heney the 
 Eoueth, 200 
 
vin contents. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FAOK 
 
 The Accession of Heney the Fifth, 243 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The State of France — Plans of Invasion — Negotiations — 
 Scroop's Plot — TnE Invasion of Fkance — The Siege of 
 Harfleue— Retreat of TnE English Army, .... 280 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 The Battle of Aginoouet, 319 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Emperor Sigismund — Second Campaign in France — Dissen- 
 sions of the Rival Dukes— Siege of Rouen — Conferences 
 at AIelun — Katharine of Vai.ois — TnE Assassination of 
 Burgundy — TnE Treaty of Arras — Allianoe be^yeen 
 Henry and Philip of Biegvndy, 3C4 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TnE Treaty oi* Teoyes — The Marriage of Heney the Fifth — 
 Campaigns in France — Return to England — TnE Corona- 
 tion and Tour, of Katharine, 413 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 TnE Last Campaign and Death of Heney TnE Fifth — Con- 
 clusion, .140. 
 
THE HISTOET 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 " And nothing can we call our own but death : 
 For heaven's sate, let us sit upon the ground, 
 And tell sad stories of the death of kings." 
 
 FROM THE CRUSADES TO THE DEATH OF RICHARD THE SECOND. 
 
 The martial spirit which arrived at system and 
 ripeness during the Crusades, did not decline when 
 they ceased ; it only developed through other chan- 
 nels. It harmonized too nearly with the natural 
 passions of the rude ages, to cease with the temporary 
 cause which had elicited its organized display. The 
 wars of the Crusades, at first regarded as an end, to 
 accomplish which the military spirit was combined, 
 "became the means by which it continued to he, for 
 centuries after, the ruling fact in events. Indeed, 
 hefore those wars arose, the genius of the English 
 people had been to a degree centred in the pursuit 
 of military enterprise. The security of communities, 
 alike from foreign and from internal dissension, had 
 been protected rather by physical force than by the 
 arts of diplomacy, the supremacy of law, and the 
 moral influence of civil authority. If a feudal baron 
 
w INTRODUCTION. 
 
 were aggrieved by Lis neighbor, his source of redress 
 lay in the number and courage of his vassals. If, in 
 a more serious dispute, he came into conflict with the 
 sovereign, he resorted to confederated rebellion, not 
 to patient remonstrance. This state of things was 
 produced by the small civilization of the age, the 
 rivalries of rude factions, the weakness of kings, and 
 because a resort to physical force is, in such an age, 
 the normal mode of asserting lights and enforcing the 
 individual will. The result was, that when foreign 
 war did not impel to a united state, calamities far 
 worse than foreign war befell the community. The 
 history of England, therefore, for centuries after the 
 Crusades, is an almost uninterrupted and deplorable 
 chronicle of domestic calamity, in which the un- 
 bridled passions of revenge, cruelty, conquest, and 
 assassination held high reign throughout the land. 
 Illustrious generals, who returned to glad ovations 
 from scenes of distant victory, directed their swords, 
 not yet cleansed of the blood of the common enemy, 
 against those with whom they had fought side In- 
 side, against the sovereigns who had showered upon 
 them the highest honors ; nay, against their own kin- 
 dred — their brothers, sons, and fathers. The natural 
 affections became callous, under the bitter dominion 
 of selfish ambition. Patriotism, no less natural as an 
 instinctive virtue, than necessary as the first law of 
 public safety, lay dormant in times of nominal peace, 
 and was awakened to a morbid height by the prospect 
 of foreign acquisition. It was less humiliating to 
 murder a parent than to sacrifice a coronet. It was 
 nobler to seize a castle than to respect the weakness 
 of women. It was more disgraceful to abandon a 
 traitor friend than to depose a rightful kiii^. It was 
 
INXEODTJCTION. 3 
 
 less honorable to disobey the code of chivalry than, to 
 reduce political order to anarchy. To such a social 
 system the Crusades came as fire to powder. They 
 organized, intensified, made permanent the spirit of 
 war. They opened the floodgates which had pent up 
 the restless aspirations of warriors in a geographical 
 limit, and caused the flood to pour unchecked over an 
 unbounded tract. So powerful was the impetus thus 
 given, that, after two centuries had passed, the most 
 honorable and brilliant field to which the ambition 
 of the English youth could be directed, was still the 
 field of martial glory. The transient motive passed 
 away ; the permanent passion remained ; and its vital 
 principle, chivalry, finds for its best features a sym- 
 pathy to-day in every civilized community. Around 
 the thrones of the royal Lancasters were grouped 
 earls and barons, who were proud of their descent 
 from the most gallant and fearless of races. Their 
 ancestors had followed the Lion-Heart to the East ; 
 they had endured hardship in a thousand forms, as 
 they traversed endless wastes and among fierce na- 
 tions ; they had mounted, with the dauntless Godfrey, 
 to the desperate charge from the valley of Jehosha- 
 phat ; they had been buried beneath the embattled 
 towers, which, falling, had proclaimed the conquest 
 of Jerusalem ; they had returned to pour into eager 
 ears the inspiring tales of Christian valor, and to 
 awaken to a burning vivacity the warlike ardor of 
 their descendants. Not only nobles, who had, in the 
 presence of a savage foe, achieved titles or enhanced 
 the lustre of houses already illustrious — all classes of 
 men imparted, each to his own circle, some of the in- 
 fectious enthusiasm with which they themselves were 
 thoroughly imbued. The common soldiers, scattered 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to all parts of the kingdom, kept every fireside aglow 
 with moving tales of conflict, destitution, and victory, 
 and retired with ill grace from tin; scenes of romance 
 and adventure to the pursuits of honest and peaceful 
 Labor. All alike were become restless, independent 
 of civil restraint, ready to quicken dissension, and 
 bold to defy, with equal celerity, King, Parliament, 
 and peasant. This tendency, no longer stimulated 
 and satiated by the sacred cause, served to localize 
 war; to produce sensitiveness to offence, uneasiness of 
 control, quickness to resentment, jiertinacity and defi- 
 ance in quarrel ; a readiness to insist, in matters of 
 little moment, on the distinctions of rank — to rival, 
 to depose, to annihilate an enemy, and to push and 
 exalt self into his vacant place. 
 
 For many generations, therefore, we are shocked 1 >y 
 intestine conflict — unnatural, perpetual, and must re- 
 lentless ; sometimes rising to the terrible dignity of 
 civil war, anon sweeping away a dynasty ; oftener the 
 feudal array of baron against baron, or of rebellious 
 vassals against a feudal tyrant. King John, while 
 the memory of the Crusades was still quick in the 
 popular brain, yielded less to the assertion of a broader 
 liberty, than to the passing dominion of feudal relvel- 
 lion and a united resistance to royal power. It is 
 doubtful whether John, however bad, would, a cen- 
 tury earlier or a century later, have incurred the 
 ignominy of Runnymede. It is doubtful whether 
 any king, however wise, would at that time have 
 escaped his degradation. The spirit of war led up 
 the barons to put their audacious hands upon the 
 tin-one itself. In that purpose a unit, they had no 
 sooner put the Crown beneath (heir feet, than they re- 
 turned to their local rivalries — to their primeval 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 cliaos. Endless and aimless were their struggles ; 
 putting nothing to the structure of advancing civil- 
 ization — on the contrary, blotting out dark records by 
 worse ; disclosing to us, who read in the new and 
 gentle light of a late refinement, a dreary waste, with 
 hardly a glimmer of manhood or justice to relieve its 
 sad expanse. But a time came in which a temporary 
 period was to be put to such anarchy. A great king 
 arose to vindicate a distressed and insulted sovereign- 
 ty. Under his government a prostrate throne, a tur- 
 bulent nobility, and a restless populace were moulded 
 alike to a fusion with each other and subjection to his 
 will. Each element, though to each other hostile, and 
 holding with each other few common bonds of sym- 
 pathy, added a sinew to the strong arm Avhich was to 
 stretch forth and lay low the independence of a con- 
 tiguous though stranger race. 
 
 Edward the First had in his youth rescued the 
 crown from the presumptuous Leicester, and had re- 
 placed it upon the head of his weak but well-meaning 
 father. He ascended the throne as the peculiar cham- 
 pion of the royal house of Plantagenet. He pursued 
 the advantage thus gained by rapid and resistless 
 measures, with a will which defied opposition, with a 
 genius which laughed at obstacles. Before his vigor- 
 ous exertions, faction sank back and ceased to live ; 
 the commonalty resumed the proper functions of quiet 
 industry ; the Church retired to its legitimate sphere 
 of holy works; the Crown became the emblem of 
 wise guardianship, order, and paramount authority. 
 This most sagacious of monarchs made it his purpose 
 to achieve two objects, reciprocal to each other, each 
 useless without the other. These were, the erection 
 of a single authority, and the union and diversion of 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 martini spirit. The former would bring the latter in 
 subjection to one directing mind. The accomplish- 
 ment of the latter would alone make the former per- 
 manent and effective for the general weal. Edward 
 was possessed of a genius comprehensive, yet not dis- 
 dainful of detail ; an acuteness which perceived, and 
 an energy which was determined to attain the highest 
 end ; moral not less than military courage ; a heart 
 regardless alike of flattery and of sympathetic feeling ; 
 and a conscience adopting, indeed, a lower standard 
 of justice than is taught by our present lights, but 
 which held to its own standard with constancy and 
 with all faith. 
 
 He would not have been able, neither did he de- 
 sire, to annihilate the predominating passion of his 
 subjects. He sought, not its suppression, but to give 
 it a new stimulus — to call it forth to a greater, be- 
 cause a united vigor, in the pursuit of conquest. The 
 next phase, therefore, of the martial character of 
 those early centuries, appears in the invasion of con- 
 tiguous countries — in the attempted subjection of 
 Scotland and "Wales. The history of those gallant 
 conflicts has come down to us illuminated bv the 
 romantic exploits of Wallace and Bruce, and is the 
 favorite theme of poetry, fiction, and provincial sons;. 
 The significance of those conflicts is the proof they 
 gave, not more of the amazing capacity of Edward, 
 than the ripeness, the intensity, the absorbing zeal to 
 which the fostered love of military glorv had been 
 educated. Opposed by the fierce persistency with 
 which a rude people resist the effort to enthrall them, 
 and by the wisdom and coolness of a genius naturally 
 warlike, the English invaders failed of their purpose ; 
 at all events, had not attained it when their sovereign 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 was taken from them. But the Avars, at least, 
 opened a broad channel into which might be col- 
 lected, and by means of which might be carried off 
 to other regions, the wide-spread inundation which 
 threatened to make complete the sad and barren 
 waste. 
 
 Edward the Second inherited none of the con- 
 spicuous qualities of his father. He possessed neither 
 the wisdom to perceive, the will to sustain, nor the 
 courage to enforce the basis upon which royal power 
 had been established He not only failed to prose- 
 cute with success the invasion of Scotland ; he lost, 
 by his weak rule, the supremacy over his barons. In 
 his reign, therefore, we discover the revival of in- 
 testine commotion— the resuscitation of faction, fratri- 
 cide, and treason. 
 
 Unusual circumstances combined to make his 
 occupation of the regal dignity the most unfortu- 
 nate, perhaps, that is recorded in the history of any 
 king ; for not only was he encompassed by treacherous 
 friends, secret and powerful enemies, a bankrupt ex- 
 chequer, and by contemptuous subjects — he was 
 cursed by a cruel and ambitious wife, and by a 
 son whose mind, in its earliest tutelage, was taught 
 to scorn him. After in vain resisting a scandalous 
 union of his foes with the nearest of his blood, and 
 after leading a life of unparalleled misery, we cannot 
 but regard the final act, his murder at the instance of 
 the Queen, as much more fortunate for him than 
 would have been the perplexities and agony of a pro- 
 longed existence. 
 
 The restraint of a single powerful government 
 had been insufficient to retain under royal authority 
 the spirit of rivalry and envious ambition. The sue- 
 
h INTRODUCTION. 
 
 cession of an imbecile to a vigorous sovereign gave 
 that spirit once more the motive as well as the oppor- 
 tunity for exercising its power. 
 
 But the death of Edward the Second restored the 
 throne to a competent directing will. His heir came 
 into the possession an ardent, valorous, and ambitious 
 youth. He had been from his earliest years destined 
 as the champion around whom should assemble an in- 
 surgent army. He had studiously acquired an expe- 
 rience in and taste for military science. He had learn- 
 ed to love the din, the excitement, the pageantry of the 
 battle-field. He had ascended the throne by the un- 
 doubted fiat of the popular will. The inhuman 
 death of the father was forgotten, as men beheld the 
 brilliant genius and chivalric bearing which thus 
 early shone forth in the son. 
 
 His record as Prince of Wales was well toned to 
 inspire the nation with admiration ; and the promise 
 of his early days was stamped a true prophet by 
 a career splendid and successful beyond the ineniory 
 of man. Mortimer, the favorite and paramour of the 
 Queen Dowager Isabella, had been the guiding spirit 
 of the rebellion and the regicide ; and when the 
 young Prince ascended the throne, and a Council of 
 Regency was appointed by the Parliament, this pre- 
 sumptuous assassin attempted to transfer to his own 
 hands, not indeed the ostensible, but the virtual 
 power. He surrounded Edward by his own minions, 
 gave the Queen Dowager extensive grants of domain, 
 entered into treaties with foreign princes, refused to 
 consult with the officers of State, and, to crown his 
 various crimes with one which outstripped every 
 other, by a cruel stratagem he caused the death of 
 an uncle of the Kiii«j, the mild and amiable Earl 
 
rNTEODTTCTIOK. 
 
 of Kent. But he displayed in these deplorable mis- 
 deeds ignorance of the character of the young King. 
 An opportunity occurred to rid the State of such an 
 enemy, and to give evidence of the high spirit of 
 young Edward. Mortimer and the Queen were hold- 
 ing Edward in a sort of honorable confinement at 
 Nottingham Castle ; but he, having formed the design 
 of seizing the usurper, and having attached to himself 
 the good offices of the governor of the castle, suc- 
 ceeded in introducing some of his adherents through 
 a subterraneous passage. The Earl, not suspecting, 
 was resting in an apartment adjoining that of the 
 Queen, and was without difficulty seized. He was 
 tried, convicted of high treason, and hanged like 
 a felon. This assertion, by one so young, of his per- 
 sonal authority and the dignity of the realm, was fol- 
 lowed up by measures marked by their vigor and 
 justice. To be formidable abroad, he must possess 
 himself of unquestioned authority at home. Strin- 
 gent executions of justice upon criminals availed to 
 quiet disturbance among the lower orders. The 
 barons, finding the grandson fired by the same power- 
 ful will which had given success to the grandsire, 
 became again the orderly vassals of the Crown. The 
 Scottish wars were now renewed, the English hosts 
 advancing and seizing the northern strongholds, anon 
 retiring from victories which had yielded them only 
 a resting-place in the midst of hostile clans; some- 
 times seeming to have riveted Scotland to the English 
 dominion, then with miraculous celerity hurled back 
 upon their native soil ; often exulting in the downfall 
 of Edinburgh, as often swiftly retreating to avert ruin 
 from Durham and York. 
 
 But a mightier ambition than had stirred the zeal 
 
10 INTKODUCTIOK. 
 
 of the first Edward began to grow up in the fervid 
 imagination of his descendant. Confident in his own 
 ability, and reliant on the fidelity and valor of his 
 subjects, he raised his eyes toward a higher pinnacle 
 than the most aspiring of his ancestors had dared to 
 contemplate. The union of two splendid diadems — 
 a realm of Saxon, Celt, and Gaelic — the fusion of the 
 two greatest of military powers, which, apart, neu- 
 tralized each other, but, cooperating, might defy 
 Christendom — this was the dazzling vision which 
 fired the brain of the young monarch. 
 
 Philip, surnanied the Fair, King of France, left 
 three sons — Louis Hutin, Philip the Long, and Charles 
 the Fair; and one daughter, Isabella, the queen of the 
 English Edward the Second. Each of his sons suc- 
 ceeded to the crown one after another, neither of 
 them having been blessed with male heirs, and all 
 having left daughters, who were, of course, excluded 
 from the succession by the ancient Salic law. The 
 death of the youngest of the brothers, Charles, left 
 the throne open to Philip of Valois, nephew of Philip 
 the Fail-, a wise, politic, and liberal prince. 
 
 Through his mother Isabella, Edward the Third 
 sought to establish his right to the French crown. A 
 more preposterous claim could not have been con- 
 ceived : for if the Salic law operated to exclude as 
 well females as their heirs, his defective title was 
 obvious ; but if, as he was fain to argue, the male 
 heirs of females could inherit, though the female an- 
 cestor could not, he was quite as unfortunate, for 
 a grandson of Louis Hutin, Isabella's oldest brother, 
 through his daughter, was living in the person of the 
 fearless Charles of Navarro. It is evident, from the 
 fallacy of every possible theory which Edward could 
 
INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 advance, that lie sought merely a pretext for involv- 
 ing France and England in war. It is not to "be 
 imagined that he hoped to convince either the Pope, 
 the French people, or his own court, by sophistries so 
 palpably ridiculous. It is rather to he believed that 
 he desired merely a nominal excuse. But Edward, 
 although ambitious, and at times headlong in his 
 action, was possessed of a spirit which, when a great 
 end was to be sought, was capable of self-control. 
 His caution was, throughout his career, the master of 
 his impulses. Summoned, at the very time when his 
 mind was educating itself for the grand stroke, to do 
 homage for Guienne as the vassal of France, his pru- 
 dence turned the sharp edge of his pride and his 
 ambition, and he yielded to the call. Opportunity, 
 with an astute warrior, is half the victory. Events, 
 favorable to Edward beyond his hopes, shortly came, 
 which opened for him the proper chance. They 
 arose from those detestable feuds from which no 
 nation was in that age ever safe, even amid the delu- 
 sive quiet of apparent harmony and union. 
 
 Robert, Count of Artois, a brave and popular 
 scion of the royal house of Valois, having incurred 
 the ill-will of Philip by a series of offences, was ban- 
 ished from France. He had been a powerful means 
 by which Philip had risen peaceably to the throne. 
 This nobleman brought his woes to the court of Ed- 
 ward the Third. By diverse arguments, readily ac- 
 cepted by a willing ear, he sought to persuade Ed- 
 ward to assert by military force his visionary right to 
 the French crown. Meanwhile the malcontent barons 
 of France were already plotting and counter-plotting, 
 arming and organizing their vassals, withdrawing 
 from the capital, holding conferences with the Ehine 
 
12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 princes, and sending messages to the arch-conspirator, 
 Artois, at London. 
 
 Disaffection had begun to sow its bitter seed 
 broadcast ; the depravity of mankind was a soil in 
 which that seed flourished to a rank luxuriance. The 
 end may be readily conjectured. Edward sent forth 
 his embassies to ascertain who could and who could 
 not be relied upon. Out of a series of negotiations 
 arose a coalition composed of the free cities and 
 duchies of Flanders, the Rhenish vassals of the Em- 
 pire, the disaffected nobles of France, and made com- 
 plete by the eager cooperation of the ablest of kings, 
 hacked by the most energetic and civilized of peoples. 
 Edward, to conciliate the Flemish vassals of Philip, 
 assumed the escutcheon of the fleurs-de-lis ; to humor 
 his German allies, he became the titular Vicar of the 
 Empire. Thus he started out on his first French 
 campaign ; thus he brought into existence the third 
 great feature of that martial spirit whose growth we 
 have noticed — ultramarine conquest. At this point 
 of history begins that long series of mutual animosi- 
 ties between England and France which has never 
 since waned. Here, too, in a wider view, begiu the 
 endless complications of England in Continental poli- 
 tics, and her inevitable interest in Continental war 
 and diplomacy. 
 
 Various was the fortune of Edward in his French 
 wars, holding good analogy with his previous con- 
 flicts with the Scotch. His first campaign was a 
 miserable failure. He persevered; he was blessed 
 with the Black Prince for a son ; Crecy and Poietiers 
 followed on his perseverance and the valor of his 
 heir. Fiercely and relentlessly those conflicts raged ; 
 thousands of Itruve knights and loyal spirits perished 
 
INTEODUCTION. 13 
 
 year by year, by starvation, by sickness, by the 
 sword, by the gibbet. Strangely and suddenly al- 
 liances were formed ; as strangely and suddenly their 
 elements broke and came together in new combina- 
 tions. Now the banner of St. George floated tri- 
 umphantly over all northern France, now Philip was 
 hardly safe behind the parapets of Paris, now John 
 was led captive to England ; anon the English hosts 
 were hurled back to the coast, and Edward barely 
 escaped the broad chance of capture and death. It 
 is the old story of martial vicissitude: nothing im- 
 portant gained or lost on either side, except terrible 
 loss in men and resource. There is no reason to sup- 
 pose that Edward, with all his ability and all his 
 chances, would have succeeded nearly as far as he 
 did, had not the intestine embroilments in France 
 rendered all harmonious action and unity of purpose 
 impossible. What we have seen was the state of 
 England under Henry the Third and Edward the 
 Second, seems to have been the state of France at the 
 time of the English invasions. The great feudal vas- 
 sals, many, of them lords of duchies and kingdoms, 
 and far from Paris, disregarded the controlling centre 
 at the capital. At one time the Count of Montfort, at 
 another Charles of Navarre, at another Marcel, Mayor 
 of Paris, became the chiefs of formidable parties, and 
 the strength of their adherents rivalled throughout 
 France that of the loyal party. Three successive 
 kings came to the throne and passed away amid 
 these distressing and cruel animosities. When Ed- 
 ward the Third died, the Black Prince having pre- 
 ceded him by a little to the grave, the position of the 
 two nations was ostensibly similar to that in which 
 they had stood when he ascended the throne. The 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 possessions of England on the Continent continued 
 to l.i« confined to northern France ; the French King 
 still ruled with unquestioned authority the great fiefs 
 which had been the inheritance of his grandfather 
 
 But we shall see, when we come t<> our especial 
 subject, that the precedent set by Edward was fol- 
 lowed Avith far different results after the lapse of half 
 a centuiy. No longer were English kings content to 
 domineer over the hereditary chieftains of Wales, to 
 make raids among the stubborn clans of the north, 
 or to employ themselves in settling the disputes and 
 restraining the turbulence of their barons. Crecy 
 and Poictiers were fatal to the repose of their royal 
 minds. Those victories seemed to prove the superior 
 endurance, valor, and skill of English warriors. At 
 Crecy, Edward, with twenty-five thousand men, had 
 vancpiished Philip at the head of near one hundred 
 thousand ; at Poictiers, the Black Prince, with ten 
 thousand, had scattered an army of over sixty thou- 
 sand, and captured the person of the French King, 
 John. On both occasions the remnant of a retreating 
 host had turned at bay upon exultant pursuers, and 
 the pride of numbers had vanished before a stubborn 
 and desperate defence. Well might the proud kings 
 of those rude centuries be flattered by such a record; 
 well might they encourage visions of a future career 
 pregnant with glory and dominion. It is not sur- 
 prising that the descendant of a monarch who had 
 exhibited in the streets of London, at the same time, 
 two captive sovereigns,* should imagine that he might 
 in time rise to the sceptre of both, and beget the line 
 of their successors. 
 
 * Kings JnUn of Franco and Davul of ScoUnnd. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 Richard the Second, son of Edward the Black 
 Prince, came to the throne as the successor of his 
 grandfather, at the age of sixteen. The French wars 
 for the time were over ; and as the King of one coun- 
 try was an easy, indolent, and unenterprising man, 
 and the King of the other a mere "boy, animosities 
 were not actively renewed. 
 
 John of Gaunt, whom we shall notice more par- 
 ticularly as the head of the family whence came the 
 Lancasters, the second son of Edward, and therefore 
 uncle to the King, had married the daughter of the 
 King of Castile ; and in the early part of Richard's 
 reign the warlike spirit of the time was vented in an 
 effort to vindicate his right to that Spanish fief. A 
 source of discomfort to the Crown was the rebellion 
 of Wat Tyler, which reached the importance of op- 
 posing a force of one hundred thousand men to the 
 authority of the government. The apt spirit and 
 presence of mind displayed by Richard alone pre- 
 served London and restored quiet. 
 
 The Scotch "began once more to show indications 
 of revolt. The French, shaking off their inactivity, 
 threatened invasion. Amid such fast-gathering troubles 
 the true character of Richard "began to develop. He 
 showed himself to be weak in judgment, totally de- 
 void of administrative capacity, easily diverted from 
 State affairs, deplorably open to the approach of para 
 sites, indolent in the extreme. Gloucester, his young- 
 est uncle, full of ambitious projects, and a favorite 
 with nobles and people, used every artifice to get the 
 power into his own hands. Richard, distrustful of 
 nis kinsmen and counsellors, sought consolation in the 
 society of favorites, and was impatient of the presence 
 of the great nobles at his court. Therefore, what had 
 
16 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 happened in the time of Edward the Second was now 
 repeated. Nobles combined on one side; the King, 
 clinging to his favorites, bid defiance on the other. It 
 was the old struggle in one of its many forms— in 
 truth, feudalism against power at a foeu^. But the 
 time had come when the barons were no longer irre- 
 sistible—when the personal character of the King 
 turned the balance. If he was competent to stand to 
 his rights, he was the stronger pail)'. His individual 
 weakness alone stood in the way of his triumph. 
 The King proved wanting ; the confederated nobles 
 found themselves in possession of the power. De la 
 Pole, the Chancellor, a favorite, was degraded ; Par- 
 liament was dictated to by the conspirators ; the King 
 found himself superseded ; the Gloucester faction set 
 up an oligarchy of twelve, who ruled in his stead. 
 Impeachments and executions, of course, followed fast 
 on such an usurpation ; men of the highest rank and 
 most venerable reputation were deposed, stripped of 
 property, banished, beheaded, because they remained 
 loyal to the Crown. Before a year had passed, how- 
 ever, a gleam of spirit appeared in the movements of 
 the insulted King, and he seems to have taken cau- 
 tions and judicious steps toward recovering his rights. 
 After gradually removing ministers appointed bv the 
 cabal of princes, and acquiring enough authority to 
 make some show of power, he was considerate enough 
 of his own interest to affect reconciliation with the 
 conspirators, anil to gain popularity from the lower 
 orders by some well-timed concessions. The oulv 
 prince of the blood royal who was not double-dved 
 in the crime of high treason was the gallant Lan- 
 caster, mi-dixant King of Castile ; and he, having re- 
 turned from his Quixotic sally in quest of rovaltv 
 
INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 imparted, by his counsel and defence, a new purpose 
 to the King to maintain his sovereignty. Soon after 
 its resumption, the two easy-minded monarchs of 
 France and England, having little taste for war, but 
 inclined rather to the luxury and pleasures of peace, 
 concluded a truce which was to last a quarter of a 
 century. 
 
 But poor Richard had little peace, notwithstand- 
 ing. Two obstacles were fatal to his desire for a 
 tranquil reign. One was himself; the other was his 
 restless, daring, and heartless uncle of Gloucester. 
 The King gave himself up to idle and useless amuse- 
 ments ; squandered on foolish superfluities the royal 
 revenue ; yielded his affections to unworthy and low- 
 born favorites ; was undignified in his familiarity with 
 the populace, and turned his back on the serious du- 
 ties of his oflice. Gloucester was ever watchful, ever 
 scheming, ever conscienceless, ever secret. His am- 
 bition trained him to every art by which to achieve 
 his end. Nothing turned his eyes from the fixed ob- 
 ject of his aim. Able, and conscious of ability, he 
 cunningly abided his time, meantime never resting, 
 but turning events to his own account. The contrast 
 of character foreshadowed the events which followed. 
 While the thoughtless Richard pursued his round of 
 frivolous indulgence, Gloucester was interpreting him 
 to the nation after his own ideas ; men were being 
 taught to distrust the truce; soldiers were being 
 made impatient for conflict ; nobles were being as- 
 sured of greater honor and greater influence ; every- 
 body was being persuaded that under Richard the 
 glories of England were fading away, but, under 
 Gloucester, would be surpassed by other and nobler 
 achievements. To what height the Duke carried his 
 
 2 
 
18 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 projects in his own fancy, it is not possible to say; 
 certain it is that he sought to degrade Richard from 
 the throne. Discovered in his conspiracies by the 
 true friends of the King, he was arrested, and trans- 
 ported to the confinement of a prison at Calais ; and 
 there he was probably assassinated. A report of his 
 death by apoplexy was circulated through England. 
 
 Once more, rather by the timely aid of well- 
 wishers than by his own merit, the King ruled over 
 his people in safety. Parliament was obsequious and 
 obedient, favorite ministers were retained in office, 
 and tranquillity was apparently restored. But hardly 
 had one conspirator been done away with, than the 
 hydra-headed genius of faction yielded other cham- 
 pions equally dangerous, and, as the issue proved, 
 more successful. But as we now approach events 
 which have a more intimate 1 >earing upon our imme- 
 diate theme, it is necessary to defer to another chap- 
 ter an account of the melancholy, but to a great de- 
 gree self-imposed, sequel of King Richard's reign. 
 
 We have related enough to make it apparent that 
 he was a victim of his own weakness and the wicked- 
 ness of others ; and that, while the phase of military 
 passion which developed itself in foreign invasion 
 was comparatively dormant in his career, the other 
 phase, internal strife, rose for the time as the eon- 
 trolling fact. 
 
 We have, with necessary brevity, taken a glance 
 at the vicissitudes of the throne between the time of 
 the last Crusades and the accession of the Lancastrian 
 dynasty, for (he purpose of setting forth especially 
 the train of events which prepared England tor the 
 remarkable transactions with which the career of that 
 royal house, is Cull. Simple and natural are the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 causes which produced the interesting sequences 
 which it will be our duty to narrate. The great 
 controlling power of action was constantly, through 
 all these generations, that spirit of military ambition 
 which we have before remarked. It was the resort 
 of feudalism when there was external peace or a 
 weak king ; it was the instrument of the sovereign 
 when he sought to lessen feudal power, and to divert 
 to national glory what had always been the cause of 
 national degradation — the rivalry between authority 
 divided among many and authority proceeding from 
 a centre. If we were to look forward to a century 
 after the death of Henry the Fifth, we should find 
 feudalism prostrate, and a race of able and vigorous 
 sovereigns asserting with marvellous success a single 
 source of government — that source the Crown. 
 Through the centuries we have been regarding, that 
 greatest transition of modern history was working 
 its way to a distant culmination, with a slow and 
 hardly perceptible pace, yet by a progress in the 
 main organic and uniform. The power of feudalism 
 was yielding; political power was drawing to a focus. 
 The principles of chivalry were receding ; statecraft 
 was the crescent promise of the future. Apparently 
 each was suffering the ups and downs of chance su- 
 premacy and chance weakness ; apparently neither 
 made a permanent foothold on the future. The 
 barons were not foresighted enough to guard against 
 forces which operated obscurely, whose bearing was 
 toward a distant point, which did not interfere as yet 
 ■with their means of ascendency. The sovereign, 
 equally obscure in prophetic vision, failed to en- 
 courage those silent and but little perceptible ele- 
 ments which were finally attracted by inevitable 
 
20 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 events to the side of the throne, and "became allies 
 perfectly irresistible in the final crisis. Meantime 
 the ordinary vices of a rude society, united to the 
 ordinary vices of rank and wealth, retarded the 
 change which was working, and postponed it till 
 a time arrived when all circumstances were ripe for 
 it. "With its consummation we have nothing to do ; 
 but, being thrown by our subject in the midst of the 
 chaotic and transition period, it is necessary to under- 
 stand the hidden currents while considering the os- 
 tensible events. 
 
 In the constant struggle between monarch and 
 barons, the barons had the advantage of precedent, 
 of the remoteness and rudeness of human settlements, 
 of consequent intimate relations with the lower or- 
 ders, of all previous ideas. The King had on his side 
 the advantage which time was ever strengthening — 
 the natural tendency of society toward union, civil- 
 ization, and interchange of trade and opinion. He 
 had, besides, the advantage, in a general conflict, of 
 the support of one faction of nobles who sought the 
 destruction of another. Of course, as society became 
 more and more cultivated, as the public mind lie- 
 came more conscious of the true position of affairs, 
 monarchy loomed up, feudalism -waned. Society has 
 never stood still ; its tendency, on a large scale, has 
 been uniformly forward. Up to a certain point, 
 therefore, and for the accomplishment of a certain 
 stage of civilization, the principle of monarch v trrow, 
 overcame, became dominant. As the tirst «jivat me- 
 dium of union and social improvement, it took its 
 place at the right time, and did its work in the march 
 of humanity. It accomplished a momentous purpose. 
 
 During all this time the military system was 
 
INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 changing, receiving suggestions and improvements 
 from actual experience, and modifying itself to the 
 successive calls for its display. The old codes of chiv- 
 alry, which had suited very well for the Crusades, 
 began to he obsolete, although their principal features 
 still controlled the movements of armies and the 
 policy of wars. The vast inconsistencies with which 
 those codes were enveloped still successfully opposed 
 themselves to natural reason. The unequal justice 
 which they dealt out remained to make the denoue- 
 ment of eveiy battle a scene of cruelty, revenge, and 
 causeless crime, grotesquely commingled with gen- 
 erosity, self-sacrifice, and zealous respect for the gen- 
 tler sex. The treasons they encouraged, the strange 
 vows they imposed, the religious hypocrisy they made 
 necessary, the Jesuitical means they enjoined, still ani- 
 mated all classes in the career of the Lancasters. 
 
 But however much we may deprecate the ar- 
 bitrary injustice with which chivalry was enveloped, 
 it is impossible to withhold from the permanent vir- 
 tues of that system our respect. In the march of 
 ages its coarser features either totally disappeared, or 
 were transformed into positive good. Its codes of 
 honor were purged, by the process of a constantly 
 growing civilization, of all that could harden the 
 heart and foster ill sentiment, while yet they retained 
 a spirit which emerged with honorable lustre from its 
 crowd of contradictions. The age in which the splen- 
 did and romantic pomp of chivalry provoked am- 
 bitious rivalry passed gradually away, and took its 
 place in tradition and history. The embattled tower 
 no longer resounded to the clarion blast of the herald, 
 or to the clattering onset of rival hosts. The knightly 
 champion ceased to issue forth from the turreted bas- 
 
22 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tion with graceful plume and burnished corslet, and 
 gilded banner and emblazoned shield ; but the spirit 
 of honor, which made his valorous breast to heave 
 with proud and passionate emotion, survived his age, 
 and has descended to us of the present. And it will 
 last through every war of word or sword, in spite of 
 martyrdom and factious tumult, in ages of peace and 
 prosperity, proof against false and levelling philoso- 
 phies, unchanged by every metamorphosis of human 
 progress ; and its noble genius will be, as it has been 
 in the past, reflected in honorable deed and unselfish 
 sacrifice. It cannot pass away while man sets a value 
 upon his good name — while there exists a sympathy 
 for distress and helplessness — while the heart feels 
 zeal to suppress wrong, and turns its indignation 
 against oppression. Indeed, the best principles of 
 chivalry cheer the path of an honorable man ; they 
 are the protectors of all misfortune ; they rekindle 
 dying hope ; they are the merciful arbiters of human 
 contention ; above all, they are the steadfast allies of 
 the Christian hosts, as they were in the days of old, 
 when Jerusalem was to be reclaimed and infidels were 
 to be expelled from the Sacred Land. 
 
 The good effects of these principles are, in truth, 
 almost the only valuable inheritance which the middle 
 ages left to future generations; they are the one 
 bright page in that dark and mournful history ; and 
 even they are hardly discernible amid the contused 
 mass of evil with which they were enveloped. Civil- 
 ization has been the purging process ; and thus Provi- 
 dence has ordained that, out of a rude and ignorant 
 era, we have derived elements which have aided and 
 supported an enlightenment which shrinks from its 
 grosser features. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 23 
 
 That dawning power which we have said was in 
 the end to ally itself to the Crown, and perfect the 
 downfall of feudalism, is now represented by the 
 third estate of the British Constitution — the lower 
 House of Parliament. Unnoticed and unfeared, the 
 earliest struggles of the popular idea were permitted 
 to proceed without molestation — despised, consented 
 to, and forgotten. The other estates now acknowl- 
 edge its predominant power; it bends both to its 
 will ; it may save or annihilate either or both in a day. 
 It is essentially the post-monarchical development. 
 
 The Commons gradually approached, caught up 
 with and joined, and then strode by the throne; and 
 the three stages of English history have been feudal- 
 ism, monarchy, a popular constitution. 
 
 That period in which we are thrown displays the 
 first distinct, regular effort of the people to be heard ; 
 the election of Henry of Lancaster by Parliament 
 was its first distinct triumph. In that era they had 
 found the right spring to touch ; by the instrument 
 of financial power they extorted concession. 
 
 This House of Commons, now the just terrifier of 
 tyrants, had its origin in the necessities of an usurper ; 
 its very birth was illegitimate. Montfort of Leices- 
 ter, who ruled by force in 1265, in place of Henry 
 the Third, was especially strong in the esteem of the 
 lower classes. He conceived the idea of concentrating 
 that strength by its organized exhibition in the legis- 
 lature. . Besides, then, the barons, bishops, and ab- 
 bots, he summoned two knights of good birth from 
 each county, erected and enfranchised the boroughs, 
 and from them he caused to be sent those who should 
 represent the middle and lower class of the commu- 
 nity. 
 
24 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It is clear, from his character, that he neither knew 
 nor cared what a revolution he was stirring up. Thus 
 the passing necessity of a tyrant grew to be the per- 
 manent civilizer of the State. It gradually became a 
 matter of habit with the sovereign to summon, at the 
 same time with his barons and prelates, representa- 
 tives of the commonalty; at first giving them but 
 feeble voice in the conduct of affairs, but yielding 
 more and more to their influence as the necessity of 
 obtaining supplies at their instance became more im- 
 perative. It was to them that malcontent factions 
 looked for support in treasons against the Crown ; it 
 was to them that the King appealed when driven 
 from his hereditary power. Already, in that be- 
 nighted age, the Commons began to act as the 
 balance between opposing forces. But no thought 
 was yet had of admitting commoners to the councils 
 of State ; the great offices, the military commands, 
 the lord lieutenancies were still filled by the ancient 
 aristocracy — occasionally, at wide intervals, by low- 
 born favorites of royalty. 
 
 Edward the First, so complete was his dominion, 
 had but little use for organized popular approval. 
 Edward the Second was too contemptible to obtain 
 it, and vastly too foolish to seek it. 
 
 In the time of the third Edward, Parliament came 
 to be distinctly composed of three bodies — the nobles 
 and ecclesiastics, the knights of the shires, and the bur- 
 gesses. The two latter subsequently became united; 
 but at present the electors of the people were too 
 weak to assert an equality with the gentry. On the 
 King's return from his deplorable failure in his first 
 .attempt to conquer the French, lie found his funds 
 low, his people dispirited, his army meagre and ill- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 25 
 
 provided, and his good name dimmed. Some remedy 
 mnst be had for such a state of things ; for he must 
 not only retrieve his position as sovereign, but prose- 
 cute with renewed energy his foreign projects. His 
 mind evidently hit upon the only possible course 
 to pursue. The barons were as poor as himself; the 
 lower estate must be courted. Then came unusual 
 concessions, the royal consent to greater liberty, and a 
 dignified stand made by the Commons. It was a 
 mutual bargain, to which the King was reduced by 
 his necessities, and into which the Commons entered 
 to increase their voice in the State. The King wanted 
 men and money ; the Commons granted them. The 
 Commons demanded conditions ; the King yielded to 
 them. 
 
 Afterwards, in the same reign, the Commons show- 
 ed their spirit by joining the Peers for the purpose of 
 restraining the height to which royal power was at- 
 taining. They insisted on a reaffirmation of the 
 Magna Charta by the King and his whole house- 
 hold. They demanded that peers should be tried by 
 their own order for public offences. They even re- 
 quired that the King should only appoint ministers 
 duly approved by the council and the barons. Then, 
 having received the royal assent to these presumptu- 
 ous measures, they granted him large supplies. But 
 as yet the young strength of the Commons was not 
 well seasoned for a long strain, and the association 
 with the barons could not be cordial enough to con- 
 tinue; so when the wily Edward had secured the 
 supplies, he protested against the late law, declared 
 it not binding, and, trusting to the divisions of his 
 Parliament, coolly disregarded every item of the 
 
26 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 treaty. After two years of tacit acquiescence, Par- 
 liament, at his request, repealed the law. 
 
 Although Leicester may be justly called the 
 founder of the House of Commons, it was in the 
 reign of Edward the Third that it approached to 
 system and regular action. His warlike enterprise 
 and unceasing activity in every department of State 
 affairs compelled him to seek unusual supplies and 
 unusual support. These were only to be gained by 
 persuasive and reciprocal methods ; they were not to 
 be forced. He was therefore absolutely driven to 
 grant popular liberties, to court popular leaders, to 
 further popular justice. Perhaps he would have been 
 even more willing than he was to take that course, 
 had he foreseen that this infant power was in time to 
 become a Hercules standing before the throne to save 
 it. Such was the authority which the Commons ob- 
 tained under him, that ministers of the Crown were 
 impeached, his mistress was banished by their order, 
 and they made efforts, attended with some success, 
 toward regulating the elections to their chamber. 
 
 The death of Edward the Third, and the succes- 
 sion of a mere child, gave the new estate an apt oc- 
 casion for exerting their recently-conceded authority ; 
 and they were not slow to seize it. That they exer- 
 cised it with temper and caution indicates that they 
 were fortunate in the leadership of wise men. At so 
 critical a moment, the advantage of moderation was 
 incalculable. 
 
 For the first time, they were left free to choose a 
 Speaker ; and their choice of De la Mare, a bold and 
 outspoken, no leys than sagacious and incorruptible 
 man, displayed their intention to assert a power, yet 
 to assert it without arrogance. Having taken this 
 
INTRODUCTION. 27 
 
 step, they refrained from a participation in the choice 
 of the regency, and, by a petition to the Peers, gave 
 into their hands the undisturbed discretion of settling 
 the government and instituting guardianship .over 
 the King's person. But, the regency once establish- 
 ed, the Commons took another step forward. They 
 remonstrated against the treasonable combinations 
 of the barons for the purpose of using illegal powers. 
 They urged that the officers of State should be named 
 by Parliament during the minority, in which they 
 should have a voice. 
 
 Upon their dissolution, they declared the necessity 
 of their being summoned annually, and appointed two 
 treasurers of the fund they had voted for the King's 
 use. Subsequent Parliaments displayed an equally 
 worthy spirit of independence, and more and more, as 
 the years went by, added to their influence as a power 
 in the State. 
 
 Of course, during this process of growing popular 
 authority, the usual disorders which attend the tran- 
 sitions of nations from less to greater freedom became 
 prevalent. Hence we read of riots and seditious ora- 
 tors, rude philosophers proclaiming the equality of 
 man, arrant demagogues inciting the vulgar to over- 
 throw the monarchy, foolish resistance to stringent 
 laws, robberies, murders, and arsons. These are, at 
 least, evidences that the lower classes began to con- 
 sider themselves as of increasing importance, and that 
 the ball which had been set in motion would now 
 with infinite difficulty be checked. 
 
 This was the position of the lower House at the 
 period of the usurpation of Henry of Lancaster. 
 They had come to be recognized as a formidable 
 element in the State ; inferior, indeed, to the barons, 
 
28 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 but possessing, through their financial power, a re- 
 straint upon the license of royal encroachment, and, 
 through their concordance with the Crown, a restraint 
 upon the presumption of the Peers. 
 
 Having now viewed the military spirit of the cen- 
 turies which immediately preceded the Lancastrian 
 line, and having shown what forces were in progress 
 toward a broader civil system, it is fitting to revert 
 briefly to a subject which has an important and vivid 
 interest in regarding the acts of that dynasty. 
 
 The Church had, for centuries before the reign of 
 Richard the Second, met with no greater calamities 
 in their English supremacy than an occasional quarrel 
 with the sovereign, short-lived contests with the 
 barons, and a temporary alienation of lands and con- 
 vents. The tenets of their faith had continued un- 
 doubted ; their edicts had met, if not with approval, 
 at least with systematic obedience ; their supremacy, 
 even over the temporal affairs of the people, Mas vast, 
 and hardly disputed ; the treasuries of their cathedrals, 
 monasteries, and prelates overflowed with gold, while 
 their lands embraced the most lovely, fertile, and pro- 
 lific spots on the island. They were masters of a sys- 
 tem which controlled alike the passions, the interests, 
 the pleasures, and the sentiments of the people; and 
 were in possession of the most coveted privileges — • 
 of wealth unbounded, of power irresistible, of rank 
 unsurpassed. The Roman Pontiff had assumed au- 
 thority of a most arrogant and overbearing nature — 
 appointing and annulling without regard to the tem- 
 poral power, confiscating land, and showing himself in 
 every manner an absolute despot. Throughout Chris- 
 tendom, his clergy were the willing and even eager 
 ministers of his rapacity and ambition. Out of so 
 
INTKODTJCTIOW. 29 
 
 extensive and so absolute a dominance, grew natural- 
 ly avarice, and the corrupt satellites which follow in 
 its wake. Every thing began to he bought and sold — 
 benefices, pardons, excommunications, the execution 
 of the law or its avoidance, high ranks, the degrada- 
 tion of kings and nobles, the murder of peasants, the 
 overthrow and exaltation of politics. After a little, 
 the Pope began to cheat the English priests, and the 
 English priests to hide their gains from the Pope : so 
 we find in the thirteenth century that his Holiness, 
 distrusting and hating the native clergy, poured into 
 England, with the king's sanction, a multitude of 
 Italians, who swallowed up the preferments, and, little 
 heeding the complaints of their parishes, monopolized 
 the worldly comforts of the country. Against such 
 an intrusion the hatred of the people began to boil 
 up and vent itself. It became unsafe for these Italians 
 to go abroad from their houses. They awoke in the 
 night to find their barns in flames, their cattle scatter- 
 ed, their thick crops plundered. It was with trem- 
 bling that they attempted, at indecently long intervals, 
 to perform the sacred rites of their office. It hap- 
 pened to be in the time of a weak and superstitious 
 king, who clung to the Pope's crosier as his best 
 defence, alike from the attacks of English priests and 
 from those of English subjects. Here then were King 
 and Pope against people and priesthood ; but the 
 abuse became too atrocious ; the King tried to resist 
 the Pope, the Pope threatened extreme penalties, and 
 vacillation, confusion, and concession marked every 
 step in the conflict. At the end the triple crown still 
 issued fulminations, plundered the treasures, trampled 
 on public and private rights, and debased the dynas- 
 ty. Every crime sullied the acts of the successors of 
 
30 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the apostles : no tyranny was too cruel or graceless 
 for the representative of Him who proclaimed " peace 
 on earth, good will to men." But up to the time of 
 Richard the Second no cardinal doctrine was im- 
 peached ; the spiritual jurisdiction of the Pope was 
 everywhere conceded ; his power of extreme penalties 
 remained intact ; even temporal authority over poten- 
 tates was acknowledged. The Church, on the whole, 
 had continued irresistible. But the grand assault 
 did not come gradually and with premonition, neithei 
 did it cease at the outer wall. 
 
 There arose a man of piety, of courage, and of 
 learning ; one intrusted with the dignity of professor- 
 ship at Oxford ; one everywhere recognized as able in 
 intellect and blameless in private life. To the mind 
 of John Wickliffe the gross abuses of Papacy came 
 with vividness and startling appeal ; his conscience 
 and his zeal armed him for a terribly uneven conflict. 
 It was in his single thought that the reformation was 
 born in England. He began with the abuses of 
 acknowledged power, content as yet to leave unmo- 
 lested that power itself. He inveighed against prac- 
 tices which were declared crimes by the tenets of the 
 Church, and opened his pregnant career by arraigning 
 the priesthood with charges of theft, bribery, and 
 neglect of duty. Growing bolder as he found his 
 efforts received by many with favor, and not being 
 without protectors among malcontents of noble birth, 
 he at length openly attacked the cardinal articles of 
 church faith and church discipline. He denied the 
 transubstantiation of the Body and Blood in the 
 mass. He pronounced excommunication lawful only 
 when prompted by religious justice, and not at the 
 caprice and jealousy of the priesthood, lie defended 
 
INTRODUCTION. 31 
 
 the right of the civil power to appropriate the lands 
 of the delinquent clergy, and went so far as to oppose 
 their occupancy of temporal estates at all. Pie de- 
 nounced indulgences, the worship of images, pilgrim- 
 ages, and monasterial corporations. The Pope, he 
 said, had no power to declare rules of faith ; was "by 
 no means infallible; had but a limited authority; 
 was powerless in foreign states ; in fact, was nothing 
 more than the local Bishop of Rome. 
 
 In two doctrines, he went even beyond those who 
 began the German reformation : he doubted the special 
 efficacy of prayers, and he held marriage not only to 
 be permitted to, but obligatory upon, the clergy. The 
 consternation of the hierarchy may be imagined, when 
 Wickliffe translated the Bible, scattered the grateful 
 harbinger abroad among the people, and absolutely 
 attracted to his own theories nearly one-half the 
 population of the realm ; when John of Gaunt, the 
 most moderate and popular of the princes of the 
 blood royal, and Percy of Northumberland, heredi- 
 tary Earl Marshal, and the most powerful of the 
 subject nobles, defended, encouraged, and protected 
 the reformer ; when such new and startling doctrines 
 spread, as fire over a prairie, throughout their enslaved 
 dominion. The relaxation of the feudal system, the 
 honor and influence conceded to men of learning, the 
 constantly growing enterprise of the community, 
 added to the constant disputes yearly recurring be- 
 tween the Courts of London and the Vatican, had 
 prepared the way for this sudden and wonderful 
 change. 
 
 The Primate was prompt in his attempts to quell 
 such glaring heresy in its inception; but all the 
 prestige of loug settled power failed to avail against 
 
32 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the natural promptings of the popular reason. Wick- 
 liffe was expelled from Oxford, examined before pre- 
 latical councils, imprisoned, persecuted in his property 
 and person, and harassed by eveiy device which the 
 fertile brains of a crafty priesthood could invent. 
 Nevertheless he escaped the greatest pains of their 
 vengeance, and, after a life of unceasing turmoil and 
 trouble, died in old age in Leicestershire. It is a 
 striking fact, that throughout Wickliffe's career, the 
 lower House of Parliament was in a manner favora- 
 bly disposed toward him, and was the frequent means 
 of averting the extremities to which the clergy would 
 reduce him. While the King and most of the nobility 
 seemed to acquiesce in, and in many cases to urge 
 vehemently those punishments which were proposed 
 by the prelates, the Commons acted as the conser- 
 vators of judicial order, and the guardians of free 
 opinion. Not indeed flatly and boldly so, but as far 
 as they could with prudence and without danger to 
 their own safety. After the death of the great 
 reformer, his followers went on increasing in number 
 and power, defying boldly the rage of the prelates, 
 holding large meetings in obscure places, and advanc- 
 ing every year some new dogmas in opposition to 
 those which had once been the common belief of alL 
 They began to question the uses of confession, and 
 the efficacy of priestly absolution. The reverence and 
 worship accorded to saints wore reproved ; thev re- 
 fused to keep saints' days, to seek their intercession, 
 or to kneel before their altars. The use of images, as 
 well the host as statues and pictures, thev came to 
 regard as idolatrous. They denied the peculiar 
 sacredness ol" church dignities. They even went so 
 far as to denounce the use of oaths. It cannot be 
 
INTRODUCTION. 33 
 
 denied that the Lollards, who were the heretical 
 generation which followed after WicklhTe, did not 
 confine their attacks to church doctrines and their 
 abuse. There was, mixed up with religious zeal, a 
 tendency to defy and resist the civil power. Of 
 course, in such a revolution of ideas, occurring during 
 the very period of growing popular power in Parlia- 
 ment, there was a vast deal of haranguing about 
 equality, the rights of the people, the vanity and 
 tyranny of kings, and the overbearing insolence of 
 nobles. Those who rose against the Church were apt 
 to be allied with those who threatened the throne, 
 and were fain to indulge in treasons, while asserting 
 the rights of conscience. Therefore, in the disorders 
 which began to be oft-repeated as well as formidable 
 toward the close of Eichard's reign, were detected 
 many Lollards ; and in the covert meetings held for 
 the purpose of listening to heretical orators, were 
 found also those men who strove to degrade beneath 
 the feet of the people every existing principle of the 
 government. 
 
 The religious fury of the enthusiasts raged more 
 fiercely every week; and finally, they declared the 
 sacraments to be blasphemies, purgatory and penance 
 fatal lies, the Church the synagogue of Satan, the 
 Sabbath a Jewish ordinance, and that for priests not 
 to marry was a most damnable sin ! The Church and 
 the King, united against malcontents composed of 
 parties who were the enemies of both, and united for 
 the destruction of both, succeeded in suppressing the 
 outbreaks which were become so frequent and annoy- 
 ing; and the peace of the kingdom was to a degree 
 restored. But the fire, smothered, still burned, and 
 anon broke forth with full vigor ; ideas holding the 
 
 3 
 
34 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 essence of truth do not pass back to complete obliv- 
 ion; and in the succeeding reikis the opposing forces 
 again met, and power built on superstition again tri- 
 umphed over the infant cause of religious revolution. 
 But no sooner had a temporary restraint been put 
 upon this first great calamity of the Church in Eng- 
 land, than another misfortune, not indeed so porten- 
 tous, yet breeding a host of troubles, arose to divide 
 and distract her throughout Christendom. Gregory 
 the Eleventh died, and left the succession to the tiara 
 to be contested for by the Italian cardinals on the 
 one side, and the French cardinals on the other. The 
 latter predominated in the holy college ; but the elec- 
 tion being held in Eome, they were driven by menace, 
 and under the duress of a rabble, to give their votes 
 for the Italian aspirant, who received the tiara with 
 the title of Urban the Sixth. Having, however, 
 escaped the local duress to which they had been 
 subjected at the Papal capital, the Frenchmen pro- 
 ceeded to protest against the election, to declare it 
 illegal, and to choose Count Robert of Geneva Pontiff, 
 who set up sacred state at Avignon, and called him- 
 self Clement the Seventh. On the one side, Urban 
 claimed to be elected at the proper time, place, and 
 manner, and by a majority of the electors ; on the 
 other, Clement urged that an election procured bv 
 force was void, and that when a majoritv of the 
 college could choose freely and fairly, they had desig- 
 nated him. Instantly the line of division ran through 
 the Christian nations, and Europe was found to be 
 well balanced between two Popes. Each nation of 
 course sided where (heir own policy dictated, and 
 France being schismatic, England stood for him who 
 presided at St. Peter's. We iind the Church, there- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 85 
 
 fore, at the accession of Henry the Fourth, struggling 
 with two great difficulties : a heresy subdued, but not 
 exterminated ; a schism open, bitter, and in its extent 
 universal. Yet she was so far a great power, that 
 kings found their best interests in courting her favor, 
 and that to degrade her enemies was to exalt their 
 own dominion. 
 
 The march of the laws of the realm, during the 
 twelfth and thirteenth centuries, was in general rapid, 
 and uniformly in a forward direction. Occasionally 
 they were for a little retrograde, in consequence some- 
 times of wars and civil dissension, offcener of weak or 
 despotic kings, and the all-absorbing tyranny of eccle- 
 siastics. But it seems right to venerate the first 
 Edward as the Justinian of England ; for no sovereign, 
 before or since, has been so solicitous for the institu- 
 tion of good laws, the due execution of justice, and 
 the stability of the constitutional fabric. ISTo one saw 
 more clearly the injustice of baronial influence, and 
 no one more successfully forwarded the downfall of 
 feudalism. The barons were compelled to exhibit 
 greater leniency to their vassals ; to secure to them 
 the rights of trial and protection ; to use moderation 
 in their claims for service and rent pay, and to 
 require of them only those services which their rela- 
 tions justified. 
 
 Edward paid personal attention to his judges and 
 sheriffs, looking to it that they were prompt and just 
 in duty, and that they were empowered to execute 
 their judgments by a sufficient force. So formidable 
 had become the crimes of murder, robbery, and kin- 
 dred evils, that in the plenitude of his administration 
 he erected^ an absolute commission, who should sum- 
 marily try and punish offenders of that nature. The 
 
o£> INTRODUCTION. 
 
 debasement of money was provided, for by a prosecu- 
 tion of usurer* which looked much like the persecu- 
 tion of a sect. The revenue of the Crown was sys- 
 tematized, and although Edward managed to obtain 
 a greater than usual, he kept within the limits of con- 
 ceded authority in its procurement. The jurisdiction 
 of the various tribunals was settled; the office of 
 justice of the peace created ; suits for the recover}' of 
 debts, and for the preservation of private rights, insti- 
 tuted ; the overbearing influence of the council in the 
 judicial process restrained; the provisions of the 
 Great Charter favorable to the lower classes impressed 
 and enforced. 
 
 Edward did not confine his attacks to the barons ; 
 he struck many a sturdy blow at the temporal power 
 of the Church. The great statute of Mortmain was 
 the product of his effort, whereby no lands could 
 pass to the clergy which should afterwards be un- 
 alienable. And the Pope found himself matched 
 against a man of iron, when he strove to nominate to 
 vacant dignities. 
 
 Indeed, this suddenly but securely erected fabric 
 of the common law, which drew order and subordina- 
 tion from a chaotic disregard of civil authority, re- 
 mained with but little modification down to the time 
 and through the reigns of the Lancaster^. Its founder 
 was by no means a patron of freedom ; his oppressions 
 of the people were sore and frequent ; his will was 
 incorrigible: but he used tyranny with the honest 
 desire of promoting the. 'public good: he \v;is ambi- 
 tious to secure stability, to give his subjects a sense of 
 protection by the equity and permanency of law, and 
 to rear as his own monument a constitution which 
 should live beyond the ephemeral distractions of his 
 
INTEODXTCTION. 37 
 
 age. Thus, outliving the effects of all the violent 
 events of those centuries, remains to-clay the system 
 of Edward the Great, having received in its progress 
 the accumulations of a constantly growing experience, 
 yet in its essence the same which received its genius 
 at his hands, raised by the almost silent, yet careful 
 skill of the noble monarch, and taking its place as a 
 noiseless and potent element in the transition of 
 society. 
 
 We have now reviewed the more obtrusive ele- 
 ments which gave tone to the English monarchy at 
 the time when Henry Bolingbroke, by the un heard 
 of fiat of the popular will, overturned the rightful suc- 
 cession, and founded in his own person a new, power- 
 ful, and vigorous line of kings. We have observed 
 the various courses which the military spirit, brought 
 to system during the Crusades, took, after the Crusades 
 ceased to elicit and guide it; how it developed in 
 three forms, proceeding from the confined arena of 
 local war to the pursuit of contiguous conquest ; then, 
 as it became more confident and more enduring, 
 launching forth into the presumptuous ambition of 
 foreign subjugation. We have remarked the con- 
 tinued vitality, resulting from these several phases, 
 which rooted in the public mind the genius of chival- 
 ry. Having established the fact that this military 
 spirit was without doubt the controlling and pre- 
 dominant feature of those times, we have seen that 
 the grand movement in the direction of a novel sys- 
 tem had commenced, was progressing, and was quietly 
 approaching the consummation, by the modest origin 
 and unheeded growth of the House of Commons; 
 that, though apparently as often antagonistic as allied 
 to the interests of the Crown, the influence of popular 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 " His mion Is lofty, his demeanor great; 
 Nor sprightly folly wantons in his air, 
 Nor dnll serenity becalms his eyes." 
 
 JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 King Edward the Third had five sons and four 
 daughters. Edward, his oldest son, famous under the 
 chivalric title of the Black Prince, died of consumption 
 just before his father left the crown open to a successor. 
 The prince had rivalled the King his father, both in 
 military renown and in the affection of the people. 
 A peculiar charm lies around the Black Prince's his- 
 tory — a charm heightened by the manifold excellence 
 of his character. He was not more conspicuous for 
 his valor and coolness in battle, than for the benevo- 
 lence of his heart and the sweetness of his temper. 
 He was generous. He was quick to feel for mis- 
 fortune. He was moderate and just. He shunned 
 temptation, and was upright in his morals. Few 
 names descend to us in the history of that dark era, 
 around which group so many virtues, whose lustre is 
 tarnished by faults so few and trilling. In him Mere 
 exemplified the more exulted qualities of chivalry, 
 while in his great soul the grosser elements found no 
 place. War failed to harden his heart to the im- 
 pulses til" a, nolile nature; neither did it make him 
 
JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 41 
 
 arrogant and impatient of opposition. The blandish- 
 ments of a regal court did not enervate him, or 
 weaken the prompt and persevering tone of his mind. 
 In a semi-barbarous age he was considerate, humane, 
 and temperate. He was a Elantagenet, and yet 
 looked lovingly upon the people whom he thought 
 himself destined to rule. 
 
 Of the second son of King Edward, Lionel Duke of 
 Clarence, but few memorials worthy of record remain. 
 He was twice married, but died in early manhood. 
 His first wife was the daughter of Lord Ulster; 
 his second, the daughter of the Duke of Milan. It 
 was during the honeymoon of his second marriage, 
 which was being spent in Italy, that the young 
 prince died. By his first wife, Elizabeth de Burgh of 
 Ulster, he had a daughter, whose son, afterward Earl 
 of Marche, became the heir to the throne expectant 
 on the death of Richard. Clarence gave promise of 
 those characteristics which made his brother Edward 
 and his father illustrious. 
 
 The third son was John op Gaunt, Duke of 
 Lancaster, of whom it is our purpose to speak at 
 length, as the head of the afterward royal house of 
 Lancaster. 
 
 Edmund, known both as Earl of Cambridge 
 and ' as Duke of York, was Edward's fourth son. 
 He was a prince of mild disposition, possessing 
 a dislike of care, and traits rather negative than 
 either good or vicious. He was ill suited to the 
 turbulent times in which he lived, and he was rather 
 fitted for the condition of a private gentleman, than 
 for the contests of faction and the intrigue of courts 
 and camps. He neither manifested the capacity of 
 the Black Prince, nor the ambition of his brothers 
 
42 JOHN OF < JAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 John and Thomas. His part in the history of the 
 times was almost a passive one, in which he was 
 made the tool of the restless schemes which occupied 
 the more energetic princes of his family. 
 
 The youngest brother, however, made his mark in 
 the events which crowded the romantic drama of his 
 generation. Thomas, Earl of Buckingham and Duke of 
 Gloucester, was, of Edward's family, the most restless, 
 ambitious, and unscrupulous. He was not even chi- 
 valric, a quality which often gilded the characters of 
 cruel and heartless tyrants in a semi-barbarous age. 
 He possessed a lion-like courage, which often carried 
 him to rashness ; he was cunning, and vigilant to per- 
 ceive and seize his opportunity ; fertile in the resources 
 of invention ; cruel, hypocritical, treacherous. His am- 
 bition and his boldness made him a constant conspira- 
 tor against the peace of the realm. No tie of blood 
 or service was safe from his assault. His power of 
 dissimulation was marvellous. He was a relentless 
 despot over his own faction ; he had no friendship for 
 any man, no memory for a faithful service, no compas- 
 sion for misery however general, no pride of house or 
 nation. He was a royal villain, whose villain - was 
 of the most base and grovelling character. He was a 
 prince of the blood with no patriotic impulses, and no 
 sympathy for the unhappy distractions of his country : 
 but made her misfortunes his own stepping stones to 
 the usurpation of the crown. 
 
 The four daughters of Edward the Third were 
 married — Isabella to the Earl of Bedford, Joan to 
 Alfonso King of ('aside, Mary to Mont fort Duke 
 of Brittany, and Margaret to Hastings Earl of 
 Pembroke. 
 
 The conspicuous virtue of some historical charac- 
 
DUKE OF LANCASTEK. 43 
 
 ters is their freedom from the vices and barbarisms 
 of the age in which they lived. The conspicuous 
 virtue of others is their exemplification of the best 
 class of prevailing ideas and habits of the age in 
 which they lived. Edward the Black Prince would 
 have been conspicuous in any age and in any nation. 
 John of Gaunt, his brother, lived in the only time in 
 which his character could have had a perfect develop- 
 ment — at the precise period in the progress of civiliza- 
 tion when qualities such as he possessed could have 
 rendered great and important service to the world. 
 He was fitted to the age of chivalry, the epoch of the 
 heroic. He was moulded to be a hero of romance ; 
 and that not only of military romance, but also of 
 civil and religious romance. As a private man he 
 would have made himself distinguished ; as a prince 
 of the blood royal he became illustrious. Don 
 Quixote is a satire, because the hero adopted the 
 thoughts and habits of a heroic age in a prosaic age. 
 In himself he resuscitated a dead chivalry. He 
 strove to reconcile an alluring romance to the stupid 
 facts of a generation which had forgotten war, which 
 only thought how to live by food and fire. John of 
 Gaunt would have been equally ludicrous and equally 
 attractive in any other era than his own. He was 
 among the most conspicuous of those enthusiastic 
 knights who filled the interval, between the fall of 
 Jerusalem and the exaltation of the Red Eose, with 
 deeds which kept in mind the expeditions of Ray- 
 mond of Toulouse, and which gave promise of Agin- 
 court and St. Albans. He was Quixote in the right 
 place, with a royal coronet upon his head. He had 
 the power, the will, and the opportunity to be a hero. 
 Thackeray's Thomas Newcome is John of Gaunt 
 
44 JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OP LANCASTEK 
 
 toned down to the nineteenth century, civilized by 
 the national progress, transferred from royalty to the 
 gentry, enlightened by a finer thought — yet the soul 
 of like personal courage and honor. Except that 
 John of Gaunt Avould always have been a reformer. 
 Col. Newcome disliked modern velocity; John of 
 Gaunt would have revelled in it, and would have 
 rushed to its van. If he could not lead an army 
 against the East, if he could not plant the Christian 
 flag on the heights of the Sacred City, he would strike 
 for the life of Poland, he would hurl the Pope from 
 the throne of St. Peter, he would answer the weeping 
 heart of Hungary, he would leap to blot out the 
 wrongs of the enslaved millions everywhere. If he 
 could not have led a military crusade, he would have 
 pioneered an intellectual and moral crusade. If he 
 could not have fought for a fact, he would have 
 staked his life for an idea. And yet John of Gaunt, 
 in his own time, was a reasonable man. He did not 
 outrun his age. Such a character as we have de- 
 scribed was fit for the turmoil of that century. Action, 
 not logic, brought success. In John of Gaunt the 
 spirit was willing, and the flesh was strong, to act ; to 
 act in unison with his age, and to be conspicuous 
 above his age. He neither exhibited the power nor 
 the variety of virtues which his brother the Black 
 Prince possessed ; neither did he have his capacity for 
 conducting war and for sure and rapid movement; 
 neither did he use victory in moderation and accept 
 defeat with equanimity, as did Edward. In short, he 
 was not, as Edward was, a very great man. He 
 possessed in an eminent degree the qualities which 
 impel to trial, but in a-less degree those which con- 
 duct to success; he was delicient in the qualities 
 
JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTEK. 45 
 
 which, restrain undue impetuosity, which, make suc- 
 cess complete and useful, which forbid the impulse to 
 control the reason. He probably rejoiced less in his 
 relation to the royal line than in his descent from 
 Edward the Third the hero, and his fraternal bond 
 with the Black Prince who won the day at Poictiers. 
 The record of an hundred negative Plantagenets was 
 outshone and obliterated by those few mighty hours 
 which passed at Crecy. To emulate the example of 
 his father and brother, and to enhance the lustre 
 which had already made his immediate family im- 
 mortal, was John of Gaunt's controlling ambition. 
 As a young man and a middle-aged man, he was a 
 hero ; as an old man, he was a patriarch. The first 
 part of his life was consecrated to war, the latter part 
 to wisdom. 
 
 Still, there were faults in the character of John of 
 Gaunt, as it appears dimly in the far-off centuries. 
 His integrity was not above suspicion ; it could not 
 hold against great temptation. His temper was at 
 times morose, always sober. He took no pains to be 
 affable; he cared not to please the people. Those 
 gentle graces which soften and beautify the warrior 
 spirit of the Black Prince, those subtle arts which 
 darken the perfidious character of Gloucester, were 
 equally wanting in their brother of Gaunt, who could 
 neither charm the multitude by natural sweetness of 
 manner, nor by the insinuating hypocrisy of a villain 
 who had his purpose. Mr. Hume says that John of 
 Gaunt was not even enterprising ; but he must mean 
 that he was not ambitious of the crown, nor of the 
 direction of the government ; for his life was one of 
 almost ceaseless activity. The opulent and flourish- 
 ing city of Ghent, in Flanders, gave this prince the 
 
46 JOIIX OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 title " of Gaunt," that being his native city. There 
 he was born, in the year 1340, during the passage of 
 Edward the Third, with his queen Philippa of 
 Hainault, through the Low Countries on their way 
 home from an unsuccessful expedition against France. 
 On becoming of age, Prince John was created Earl 
 of Richmond, and was admitted to the House of 
 Peers. He married Blanche, the beautiful daugh- 
 ter and heiress of the Duke of Lancaster. The 
 latter nobleman was long one of the leading states- 
 men of the country, being accomplished, just, brave, 
 and humane; vigorous in war, equitable in govern- 
 ment, prudent and loyal as a baron of the realm. 
 He was descended, in the third degree, from 
 royalty; had so long and so well proved himself a 
 faithful subject and loyal counsellor, that he was 
 promoted from an earldom to a dukedom ; was a 
 warrior from youth; was well read in science and 
 history ; and was esteemed equally by the king and 
 by the people. He had mixed in the great events of 
 his time. He had commanded an army in conjunc- 
 tion with the King of Navarre against the King of 
 France. He had come to the succor of the Countess 
 of Montfort, who, for her infant son's sake, was still 
 resisting King John. He had been Edward's lieuten- 
 ant in his greatest expedition against the French. 
 The glorious success of that expedition had made 
 Edward exidtant and defiant, and he had resolved to 
 crush the prostrate enemy. The Dauphin (John 
 being in London Tower, brought thither by the Black 
 Prince) sued for peace. Edward rejected all propo- 
 sals from the captive monarch, and demanded terms 
 ruinous to French independence. Lancaster had con- 
 tributed largely to the success of the campaign. In 
 
JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 47 
 
 every victory his part had been conspicuous and 
 brilliant. He now sought to moderate the exorbitant 
 demands of the king. He reasoned with him, pointed 
 out the folly of over-confidence, the dreadful result of 
 a possible defeat. " My lord," said he, " this war 
 you are carrying on is wonderful to all men, and not 
 too favorable to you. If you persist, it may cost you 
 your life ; and it is doubtful to me if you succeed to 
 the extent of your wishes. I advise you to accept 
 the honorable proposals which have been made to 
 you. For, my lord, we may lose in one day more 
 than all we have gained in twenty years." Edward 
 was at last prevailed upon by his cousin. He 
 went out of the camp, and, betaking himself to the 
 shrine of Our Lady at Chartres, vowed to the Virgin 
 Mother that he would accept the peace. The articles 
 were drawn up ; the two monarchs, Edward and John, 
 met at Calais ; and the result was, that the famous 
 treaty of Bretigni was concluded, which gave back to 
 France her king, untrammelled, and brought the joy 
 of peace to the wearied nations. 
 
 Henry Duke of Lancaster, called by his contem- 
 poraries the " good Duke of Lancaster," died of the 
 plague in 1360, amid general sorrow and regret. He 
 was laid on the side of the high altar of the collegiate 
 church at Leicester, which his father had founded, 
 and where his wife already reposed. He was the last 
 male heir of the Lancastrian line. By his wife 
 Isabel, daughter of Lord Beaumont, he had two 
 daughters, who survived him. Maude, the elder, 
 married, first, Ralph of Stafford, then William Duke 
 of Zealand. Soon after her father's death she came 
 back to England, and died, it was suspected, by poi- 
 son. Blanche, as we have said, married John of 
 
48 JOHN OF (I AUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 Gaunt ; this being permitted by a dispensation of the 
 pope, which was rendered necessary on account of 
 their affinity of blood ; and as the heir of the house of 
 Lancaster, she brought the title of her father to her 
 husband. Thus John of Gaunt became " time-honored 
 Lancaster." The character of Blanche of Lancaster is 
 but dimly illustrated by the history of the times ; we 
 only know that she was one of the beauties of the 
 court, and that she possessed a sweet and equable 
 temper. Her period of married life was short ; she 
 died in 1369, soon after the death of Queen Philippa, 
 As the mother of a brilliant line of kings, it is a 
 matter of regret that so little of her history has been 
 preserved. Before she died, she gave to the world 
 Henry of Bolingbroke. 
 
 The conclusion of the treaty of Bretigni left a 
 large unoccupied army in the hands of King Edward 
 and the Black Prince. The latter, dissatisfied to 
 return home and yield up the arts of war for those of 
 peace, sought to direct his military power into some 
 other channel, now that no excuse remained for join- 
 ing issue with the ancient rival of England. An 
 opportunity very soon presented itself, and we arrive 
 at that romantic episode in the history of those times, 
 in which were cast the obtrusive events of John of 
 Gaunt's career, and which have been most efficacious 
 to preserve his name and deeds to later generations. 
 
 Don Pedro the Fourth, King of Castile, son and 
 successor of Alfonso the Good, was then holding a 
 dread reign over one of the fairest of the western 
 kingdoms. Even his surname " the Cruel " fails to 
 express the utter ferocity and inhumanity of his 
 character. He should rather have been called "the 
 Atrocious." J lis crimes knew no bounds, either in 
 
JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OP LANCASTER. 49 
 
 their variety or in their bitterness. Passionate, sav- 
 age, a scoffer, ambitious, despicably selfish, licentious, 
 with a heart of stone, an insolence of manner, and a 
 cunning craftiness of mind ; he was the perfect model 
 whence later tyrants might aptly derive a refinement 
 of villany quite unsurpassed, even by the Borgias of 
 Venice or the M6dicis of France. At the prompt- 
 ing of his favorite mistress, Maria de Padilla, he 
 murdered the young and lovely Blanche de Bourbon, 
 his queen, cousin of the Queen of France and of the 
 Countes's of Savoy. Some say that she was poisoned 
 by his order at the castle of Medina Sidonia ; others 
 suggest the more horrible death of strangulation be- 
 tween cushions. In every part of his kingdom he 
 sought the death of the greatest and noblest barons; 
 either being fearful of their influence, or indulging the 
 malicious pleasure which his nature derived from the 
 mere commission of crime. No one, however closely 
 allied to him by blood or fidelity, was safe from his 
 capricious cruelty. He was, withal, an arrant rebel 
 against the Church, which was, to the Castilians of 
 old, an impious crime, far worse than oppression. He 
 disregarded the rules of the sacred authority ; seized 
 the episcopal revenues ; threw the priests into dun- 
 geons ; defied the Pope, and insulted his legates ; and 
 persecuted the faithful. Pope Urban remonstrated ; 
 King Pedro laughed. Pope Urban thundered forth 
 the sentence of excommunication ; King Pedro made 
 a coarse jest. 
 
 His father Alfonso* had had a mistress, by name 
 Eleanora de Guzman, who had borne to him three 
 bastard sons, Dons Henry, Frederick, and Sancho. 
 The old King had loved them well, and had given to 
 
 * Alfonso XI. reigned from 1312 to 1360. 
 4 
 
50 JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 Don Henry, the eldest, the county of Trastamare for 
 heritage. This Don Henry was an intrepid and 
 enterprising knight, popular, fond of adventure, and 
 of a high and chivalrous spirit. He served under 
 John of France at Poictiers, and was much beloved 
 by that king. Don Pedro again and again sought 
 his life. He was not even content to strip him of his 
 province, but pursued him wherever he went. As for 
 Don Frederick, the King seized him without ceremony, 
 and at once put him to death. Eleanora, the mother 
 of the unfortunate princes, had likewise fallen a vic- 
 tim to his thirst for blood, and his hatred for all who 
 were in any way related to him. 
 
 After Pope Urban had declared Pedro a here- 
 tic and infidel, his Holiness summoned the King of 
 Aragon and Don Henry to Avignon. The birth 
 of Henry was legitimated, and he was declared the 
 heir to the Castilian throne. Pedro the Cruel began 
 at last to quake with apprehension, for he knew that 
 beneath and around him was a grumbling volcano of 
 popular hatred near to its crisis, which in the presence 
 of a champion would hasten to burst forth. All the 
 neighboring potentates detested him ; the Church was 
 most bitter against him ; his barons waited and 
 longed and prayed for vengeance ; the people, broken 
 in spirit by his outrageous tyranny, had laid up the 
 long account of his oppressions in their memory, and 
 watched for the signal to rise and annihilate, him. 
 The Count of Trastamare at once made preparations to 
 invade his brother's territory. He had the hearty 
 cooperation of the Pope, the King of France, and the 
 King of Aragon. The "independent companies," 
 which had served under the Black Prince in the late 
 wars, were enlisted in ihe cause. Sir Bertram! du 
 
JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANOASTEK. 51 
 
 Guesclin, Constable of France, an old and famous 
 warrior, became one of the leaders of the expedition. 
 Thirty thousand men were assembled, devoted to the 
 cause of Henry of Trastamare. One hundred thou- 
 sand francs were supplied by the Pope, the French 
 King, and the great barons. These crusaders for 
 liberty and usurpation, under the young John de 
 Bourbon, Count of La Marche, set out on a sort of 
 triumphal journey through the friendly domain of 
 Aragon. Everywhere they were received with joy, 
 and filled with substantial plenty by the inhabitants 
 while Peter the Ceremonious, King of Aragon, en 
 couraged them with informal welcome, in their pas 
 sage over against Pedro the Cruel, his neighbor. 
 The tyrant was in a great rage ; but it was an im 
 potent rage, and availed him nothing. He sum 
 moned his barons and peasants ; they not only did 
 not obey, they hastened to join the invading army in 
 multitudes. Bourbon passed the Ebro — the Rubicon 
 of the undertaking. Pedro fled to his lovely Seville, 
 thence to the small fortress of Corunna, in Galicia, 
 There he crouched, with no companions but his wife 
 and his young daughters, Constance and Isabella. 
 "We shall hear of these damsels hereafter. 
 
 Meanwhile the bastard brother made a gala 
 march, a bloodless campaign, through the kingdom 
 without a king. The people met him and cried, 
 " Long live King Henry ! Down with Don Pedro, 
 who has treated us so cruelly and wickedly ! " It 
 was not a sudden frenzy, it was the deliberate and 
 practical election of a sovereign. Without a battle 
 the Count took possession of the country, and at the 
 city of Burgos he was crowned by Castilian prelates, 
 and received homage from Castilian princes and 
 
i-ij JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 generals. He made a progress through the cities, and 
 insured the confidence of his new subjects. No op- 
 position manifested itself; a peaceful revolution had 
 established a new dynasty upon the throne of Castile. 
 Pedro the Cruel, undismayed by misfortune, cast about 
 him for help. The Black Prince had been his friend ; 
 to him he sent an embassy of knights to beg the 
 Prince's assistance. Edward received them at the 
 monastery of St. Andrew, near Bordeaux. Meanwhile 
 Pedro, becoming alarmed for his personal safety at 
 Corunna, followed upon the heels of his embassy, and 
 appeared unexpectedly before the Black Prince. The 
 dethroned King was met by his host on the road, and 
 conducted with great pomp into the city. After 
 several conferences, both at London and at Bordeaux, 
 it was resolved that the English should attempt 
 Pedro's restoration. The barons of Aquitaine and 
 the King of Navarre were induced to join in the 
 enterprise. Many of Edward's barons and lieutenants 
 had gone with the expedition of Henry, and were 
 now at his court. These were summoned away by 
 their chief, and left the Castilian court regretful, but 
 obedient. King Henry generously gave them pres- 
 ents, and his free permission to depart. 
 
 The " independent companies," composed of adven- 
 turous soldiers of all nations, also set out from Castile, 
 to return to the service of the Prince, of Wales, twelve 
 thousand strong. Sir John Chaudos, a troneral well 
 beloved by the Prince, brought them through the un- 
 friendly county of Foix. After a successful battle 
 with the French, who would not have them pass their 
 territory, at Moutauban, the companies reached the 
 Prince, with but little diminution of force, and were put 
 into quarters in the mountains. Men-at-arms be»an to 
 
JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 53 
 
 flock to his standard from all quarters, eager to par- 
 ticipate in an enterprise which seemed to promise so 
 much romance, adventure, and plunder. Many were 
 sent away, for Edward was distrustful of strange 
 soldiers. Provisions were gathered with alacrity and 
 in abundance. And now John of Gaunt appears 
 upon the scene. The King of England, when the 
 preparations were nearly complete, sent over eight 
 hundred men under his younger son, as his contribu- 
 tion to the cause. John of Gaunt, whom we shall 
 now call the Duke of Lancaster, was in his twenty- 
 seventh year; and, although not popular with the 
 people, was much beloved and trusted by his father 
 and eldest brother. He crossed the Channel with his 
 armament, and landed on the French coast at St. 
 Mahe de fine Poterne, whence he marched to Nantes. 
 There he was sumptuously feasted and entertained 
 by the Duke of- Brittany, who was a malcontent 
 vassal of France, and a brother-in-law of the English 
 prince. 
 
 When he arrived at Bordeaux, he went to the 
 monastery of St. Andrew, where the Princess of Wales, 
 famous as Joan the Fair Maid of Kent, had recently 
 given birth to her first son, afterward King Richard 
 the Second. After a short visit to the Princess, he 
 proceeded on his march, and was received with joyful 
 welcome by Edward at Dax. Here he first met with 
 Pedro the Cruel ; and it is probable that at this time 
 he was first attracted to the infanta Constance, daugh- 
 ter of that king, whom he afterward espoused. The 
 Duke was first employed by his brother as an envoy 
 to the King of Navarre, whom he sought to gain as 
 an ally, and through whose dominion he wished to 
 pass. The mission was successfully accomplished. 
 
54 JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 The Prince of Wales commenced the march of his 
 well appointed army in the month of February, 
 through the dangerous denies and over the cold passes 
 of Navarre. The whole army were in exuberant 
 spirits, confident, eager for the onset. Since so great 
 a force could not make the passage of the mountains 
 simultaneously, it was divided into three divisions; 
 these crossed on three successive days. The van 
 body was led by the Duke of Lancaster ; with him as 
 lieutenants were Sir John Chandos, the confidant of 
 the Black Prince, who had twelve hundred pennons 
 with his arms emblazoned thereon; Sir Guiscard 
 d' Angle and Sir Stephen Cossington, marshals of 
 Aquitaine; and scions of the noble and chivalrous 
 English houses of Beauchamp, Hastings, and Neville. 
 Under these were ten thousand cavalry. The Prince 
 of Wales and Don Pedro, with about an equal num- 
 ber, crossed on the day after ; and on the third day 
 folloAved the titular King of Majorca with the remain- 
 der of the army. 
 
 Henry the Bastard was sustained on the throne 
 by the mass of his subjects, by the neighboring Kinsrs 
 of France and Aragon, and by the lesser potentates 
 whose territory lay upon the confines of Castile. He 
 had, above all, the hearty cooperation and advice of 
 the renowned Du Guesclin, a man venerable both as a 
 warrior and as a counsellor. He soon raised an army 
 of one hundred thousand men ; treble the number of 
 that under the English Prince. But contrary to Du 
 Guescl in's earnest advice, Henry resolved to give 
 offensive battle to the invading host. 
 
 The givat conflict took place near the village of 
 Navaretta, early in the morning of the ;>d of April, 
 l."><>7. The Duke of Lancaster was first attacked 
 
JOHN OE GAUNT, DUKE OP LANCASTER. 55 
 
 with Ms division, by Du Gruesclin; and in a very 
 Ibrief time the whole line was hotly engaged. Lan- 
 caster gained the highest applause from all sides for 
 his valorous and knightly bearing, and for maintain- 
 ing a difficult ground against fearful odds. Don 
 Sancho, a brother of King Henry, was the first to 
 give way, in the centre ; after that it was only a ques- 
 tion which of the other Castilian divisions should 
 yield first. Defeat soon became retreat ; retreat ac- 
 celerated itself into disordered flight. Numbers had 
 succumbed to valor and generalship. The victory of 
 the Black Prince was complete, terrible, decisive. It 
 once more revolutionized the dynasty of Castile. For 
 the strength of the good usurper, Henry, fell on that 
 field ; he had no other resource to save his crown but 
 in that army, which was now a hopeless rabble. The 
 losses were greatly disproportionate; the invaders 
 lost but four knights and forty privates ; of the Cas- 
 tilians were slain nearly twenty thousand. 
 
 The throne of the distracted kingdom reverted by 
 this conquest, accomplished by a single action, to the 
 legitimate tyrant. The glory was monopolized by 
 Prince Edward ; the fruits by Don Pedro. The 
 victory had hardly been gained, before this monster 
 showed his cruel and perfidious character. He was 
 eager to murder the prisoners in cold blood; he 
 desired to put mercenary and foreign swords to 
 Castilian necks. After he was once more secure in 
 his former power, he showed another quality, a fit 
 companion of cruelty — ingratitude. Edward's army 
 had not been paid — they were distressed for food, for 
 clothing, for means to return to their families. Pedro> 
 delayed payment on various pretences (pretences are 
 never wanting to a soul whose life is a perpetual lie) ;, 
 
56 JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 and the troops were obliged to return without their 
 wages. It was the shortsightedness of a villain, who 
 in his career of crime is unconsciously reckless of his 
 safety, and who of all precautions usually omits the 
 very one which alone can avail him. Thus Pedro 
 threw away the very friendship without which he 
 would still have been an exile, the alienation of which 
 left him exposed without defence to that resistless 
 home party, which still clung to his brother Henry. 
 That enterprising prince, accompanied by the great 
 general Du Guesclin, returned from France with a 
 fresh army ; all Castile flocked to his standard. The 
 brothers met at Montiel ; Henry made the attack with 
 great impetuosity ; Pedro's army was little more than 
 an armed and undisciplined rabble, but preponderated 
 in numbers ; the fight was long and bitter. Finally, 
 the tyrant's force was repulsed with great slaughter. 
 Pedro himself, abandoning his men, retired to the 
 castle of Montiel. Finding that he would be easily 
 starved out there, he sought to escape in the night. 
 He was taken by the watch, and brought before 
 Henry. He went into the presence of the victor un- 
 dismayed, being a bold man ; not, as tyrants usually 
 are, a coward. Henry, in a rage, rushed upon him, 
 and brought him to the earth ; and, drawing a pon- 
 iard, plunged it into his brother's breast. Thus died 
 Pedro the Cruel of Castile. He was but thirty-five 
 years of age ; but within that narrow space, what a 
 life, prolific in crime and conflict, had ho led ! 
 
 Henry was now able to resume his usurped sov- 
 ereignty, not only without resistance, but with the 
 joyful consent of his subjects. Pedro left no male 
 heirs, but two daughters — the- infantas Constance and 
 Isabel In. 
 
JOHN OF GAUNT, DTJKE OF LANCASTER. 57 
 
 Two years after the expedition into Castile, the 
 Duke of Lancaster lost the fair Blanche, his wife. He 
 had been fighting gallantly the while, under his 
 brother the Black Prince, who never rested. There 
 had been plenty of work to do in France ; and these 
 two princes had found constant employment con- 
 genial to their active natures. Bordeaux had been 
 their headquarters, and this cheerful town bore the 
 double aspect of a military station and the rendezvous 
 of a gay court circle. From all those nations and 
 provinces which were hostile to Charles the Wise, the 
 adherents of the princes were gathered. Among them 
 were the barons of Gascony. These barons, in 1369, 
 proposed a marriage between the Duke of Lancaster 
 and the eldest of the lovely daughters of Pedro the 
 Cruel. This was soon after the death of the Duchess 
 Blanche. The proposal of the Gascons met with the 
 concurrence of the Duke, for they anticipated his 
 wishes. He sent off an ostentatious embassy of knights 
 to Bayonne, where the infantas were living, in secluded 
 grief at the loss of their father and their sovereignty. 
 They at once acceded to the proposal, and set out to 
 join the Prince's court. When they approached 
 Bordeaux, the Duke went out of the city surrounded 
 by a brilliant cortege of nobles, and conducted them 
 into the city. The marriage rites were performed at 
 Rochefort, a small village near Bordeaux ; and on the 
 same day a great feast, such as were the delight of 
 princes in those days, was given to the concourse 
 which attended on the occasion. The bridal pair 
 lingered for a time at Bordeaux ; and a season of 
 festivity and good cheer was kept up for several 
 weeks in honor of the marriage, by the gallant 
 knights and light-hearted beauties of the little court. 
 
58 JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 The younger infanta, Isabella, was afterward mar- 
 ried to the Earl of Cambridge, Lancaster's younger 
 brother. The marriage of the infanta Constance with 
 an English prince gave much alarm and anxiety to the 
 new King of Castile, who foresaw another attempt upon 
 the Castilian throne ; and he speedily sought an alli- 
 ance with the King of France, to defend himself from 
 the invasion which now seemed imminent. The war- 
 fare between France and England continued, with 
 here and there a brief armistice. The invasions of the 
 English possessions in France by the French King 
 provoked constant retaliation, and the history of those 
 turmoils exhibits the usual alternation of victory and 
 defeat when the conflicting powers are nearly equal. 
 In all the campaigns John of Lancaster was a con- 
 spicuous officer, often commanding in chief in the ab- 
 sence of his brother the Black Prince, and invariably 
 adding to his renown as a skilful, calm, and intrepid 
 general. The Prince of Wales, after a long and pain- 
 ful illness, which had often kept him from the field 
 when his whole heart was there, died in the height of 
 his illustrious career, and after a life of unexampled 
 virtue and valor, in 1376. He was forty-six years 
 of age. King Edward the Third had one glory 
 above all others — one pride, which was far above 
 ambition and jealousy — Edward the Black Prince. 
 The decease of this dearly-beloved, it may be said 
 adored, son, broke down that majestic spirit which 
 had so long sustained with serene fortitude the vast 
 cares which a warlike ago and people demanded. 
 The blow was fatal to both mind and body. The 
 vigorous intellect became enfeebled ; the sturdy con- 
 stitution, which had coped with fifty years of battle, 
 lost the integrity of its strength, and yielded to this 
 
JOHN OP GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 59 
 
 last vital shock. Within a year the mortal remains 
 of the great monarch were tenderly borne to the Great 
 Abbey, and laid with that royal line of which he 
 was the most illustrious example". 
 
 Richard, only son of the Black Prince, then in his 
 twelfth year, ascended the throne. A regency was 
 formed consisting of his three uncles, John of Gaunt, 
 Duke of Lancaster, and the Dukes of York* and Glou- 
 cester. The administration of the government was 
 mainly confided to the Duke of Lancaster, the eldest 
 brother. The indolence of York, and the restlessness 
 of Gloucester, made each incapable, in the eyes of 
 court and people, of the grave trust. The young prince 
 was the heir to domestic intrigue and foreign war. 
 France on one side, and Scotland on the other, in 
 close alliance and bitter in their hatred of England, 
 caused constant apprehension and conflict. The Duke 
 of Lancaster, in the name of his Duchess, the daughter 
 of Pedro the Cruel, claimed the crown of Castile ; and 
 Don Henry, the reigning king, was consequently in 
 perpetual warfare with the southern allies of England. 
 The King of Navarre, whose dominions were contig- 
 uous to Castile, had maintained the war with vigor 
 fof a long time. Finally the news came to Lancaster 
 that the combatants had become friends ; that they 
 had made an alliance offensive and defensive ; that 
 Navarre's son had married Castile's daughter; that 
 Henry was dead; and that his son, Don John, had 
 been crowned King of Castile. John of Portugal 
 still remained faithful to the English interest and in 
 hostility to Castile, and favored the restoration of 
 Pedro's line. 
 
 The Duke of Lancaster took the bold resolu- 
 
 * The Earl of Cambridge was created Duke of York at Richard's accession. 
 
60 JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 tion of attempting the recovery of the throne in 
 the name of Constance. While preparations were 
 being made, he was sent into Scotland by Richard to 
 make a truce ; and was absent from London when the 
 Wat Tyler insurrection occurred. This gave oppor- 
 tunities to the enemies of the Duke to charge him 
 with treachery, and to declare that he purposed seizing 
 the Scotch crown. These reports were spread by the 
 insurrectionists themselves, who further showed their 
 enmity by demolishing his palace of Savoy, as a pre- 
 lude to other deeds of violence. When the troubles 
 were quieted, Richard sent for his uncle ; and Lancas- 
 ter, returning through the cities of Yorkshire and 
 Cambridgeshire, everywhere received a welcome which 
 exhibited the popular repudiation of the slanders 
 against him. A quarrel with the Earl of Northum- 
 berland, who was sustained by the King, produced 
 much ill-nature between the uncle and nephew for 
 a while; indeed, after Richard grew to manhood, 
 his relations with the royal princes were far from 
 amicable. 
 
 Meanwhile the King of Portugal had thrown 
 down the gauntlet to the King of Castile, in assertion 
 of the right of the infanta Constance to the Castilian 
 crown. There were other causes of dispute, but this 
 was the main plea for war. Ambassadors had arrived 
 from the court of Lisbon, appealing to Lancaster and 
 York to hasten to defend the birthright of their con- 
 sorts. The adventurous nature of Lancaster awoke 
 to a summons which called him to a congenial project. 
 A crown was the end, his favorite occupation the 
 means of the proposed enterprise. The King, however, 
 desirous to make use of his skill in diplomacy, had 
 retained him in England to conduct negotiations 
 
JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 61 
 
 with the Scotch, and to arrange a marriage on his behalf 
 with the daughter of the German Emperor. But the 
 Duke of York had gone to Portugal with a consider- 
 able force, and attended by many valiant and expe- 
 rienced barons. The alliance with that kingdom had 
 been strengthened by a marriage between the King's 
 daughter and the Duke's son. The allied forces had 
 made some successful incursions into Castile ; ; French 
 troops had come to the succor of Don John ; the forces 
 on both sides had been assembling for the great strug- 
 gle ; Lancaster himself had prepared an armament at 
 Southampton when the King sent him into Scotland. 
 As soon as the Duke had settled the difficulties in the 
 north, and arranged the marriage of the King, he turned 
 with alacrity to his favorite scheme of leading a large 
 force to join his brother in Spain. The news of the 
 various successes .already gained stimulated his zeal, 
 and hastened the preparations. Having designated 
 his son, Henry Earl of Derby, his lieutenant in the 
 kingdom, he embarked with his consort; attended 
 by his son-in-law, Sir John Holland, as constable, 
 Sir Thomas Moreaux as marshal, and Lord Percy as 
 admiral of the fleet. Upward of two hundred sail 
 accompanied him; and his force consisted of about 
 four thousand men. Among the nobles who j oined the 
 enterprise were many of the most illustrious in Eng- 
 land — Beaumonts, Talbots, Despensers, Willoughbys, 
 Hastings, Calverleys, and Clintons. On his way 
 thither he met the French at Brest, and raised the 
 blockade which they had imposed on English ports. 
 The army landed at Corunna, and after a brief 
 delay marched on St. Jago. That place yielded 
 without a struggle. So propitious an opening of 
 the campaign was duly celebrated by feasting, 
 
62 JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 carousing, and good cheer, by imposing ceremonies 
 in the cathedral, and sacred processions of thanks- 
 giving. Meanwhile French succors were pouring in 
 for Castile, and Portugal was hastening to support 
 the English. Kouelles, in Galicia, was the next con- 
 quest ; then Villeclope yielded by capitulation. Lan- 
 caster met King John of Portugal, and cemented 
 their amity by marrying his daughter Isabella to 
 that sovereign. An incident now occurred which 
 interrupted for the time the immediate object of the 
 expedition. Lancaster claimed a sum of money as 
 due to him from John, the new King of Aragon, and 
 he applied for it through the Archbishop of Bordeaux. 
 The prelate was detained as a prisoner. Lancaster, 
 quick to resent insult, and not overprudent, at once 
 invaded Aragon, and seized the castle of Castelbon. 
 The King of Aragon thought it best to yield, and the 
 Archbishop was released. The war in Castile was 
 again resumed, and the former success was repeated. 
 The crown began to seem a reality ; it appeared to be 
 almost within reach. Ribadavia, Maures, Entenca, all 
 Galicia fell before the advancing legions. The forces 
 of the Portuguese and English, hitherto operating 
 separately, joined at Orense, and together crossed the 
 Duero. But now, after a campaign which had been 
 an almost constant succession of triumphs, and when 
 success seemed certain, sickness broke out in the army, 
 supplies became scarce, and disaffection ami discord 
 threatened the dispersion of the hitherto victorious 
 alliance. 
 
 To arid to their misfortunes, large reinforcements 
 from France under (he Duke of Bourbon were about 
 to be added to the Castiliau army. Lancaster's 
 army, decimated by malaria, suffering iov want of 
 
JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OE LANCASTER. 63 
 
 provisions, weakened by the necessity of garrisons 
 along the line of their communications, dispirited by 
 the apathy of their allies, were discouraged by the 
 prospect of a conflict with the fresh veterans of the 
 combined armies of France and Castile. The Duke 
 himself, broken down in health, and appalled by the 
 accumulating difficulties that were thickening about 
 him, was compelled to abandon all hope of success. 
 The greatest of all his evils was the pestilence, which, 
 in the hot season, raged remorselessly through his 
 army, sparing none, prostrating alike the bravest 
 leader and the humblest soldier. The Duke became 
 dangerously ill ; his army was disbanded, and made 
 their way back as best they could. When Lancaster 
 was sufficiently recovered, he departed to Bayonne. 
 The King of Castile at once resumed possession 
 of Galicia. Thus ended that famous enterprise to 
 conquer a crown, which was worn by a king of the 
 people's choice ; Quixotic in its conception, but bold, 
 chivalrous, and worthy of admiration, if only for the 
 ability and energy with which, until disease demol- 
 ished the fair prospect, the enterprise was conducted. 
 The King of Castile was a prudent man ; he was 
 not content with present security; he sought the 
 permanent establishment of his crown. He consid- 
 ered the friendship of England necessary to this 
 end. When, therefore, his late adversary, the Duke 
 of Lancaster, returned home after the disastrous 
 termination of his scheme of conquest, King John 
 sent to him a proposal of marriage between his own 
 son and heir and the eldest daughter of the Duke. 
 A French prince of the blood, the Duke de Berri, had 
 sought the hand of this princess, and the negotiation 
 had nearly been successfully concluded, when this 
 
04 JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 new competitor appeared against him. Lancaster had 
 no hesitation in deciding between the rival aspirants. 
 He preferred to secure amicably to his descendants 
 that inheritance which he had vainly sought to con- 
 quer. The Lady Catharine was betrothed to the heir 
 of Castile, and the young bride was accompanied by 
 her mother to her adopted land ; the mother being the 
 legitimate heiress to the throne which the daughter 
 was now to share. This alliance having been happily 
 accomplished, Lancaster, who had now passed the 
 prime of life, applied himself to the more laudable, 
 if less brilliant, achievements of reconciling the dif- 
 ferences at court, and concluding treaties of peace 
 with foreign nations. Gloucester, during the absence 
 of his elder brother on the Castilian expedition, had 
 accomplished the usurpation of royal power, and had 
 lost it again ; the King had resumed his legitimate 
 authority, and the domestic disturbances had ap- 
 parently subsided. The return of Lancaster, and his 
 declaration in favor of the King, settled the conflict, 
 and secured to royalty its legitimate prerogatives. 
 
 In 1394 the Princess Constance died. Lan- 
 caster, who does not seem to have been inclined 
 to domestic solitude, soon after espoused Catharine 
 Swinford, of no high degree, who had formerly 
 been a lady of Blanche's household. Gloucester 
 and York, who acted together as the leaders of 
 the opposition at court, protested against so degrad- 
 ing a connection ; but the King, whom Lancaster 
 had befriended against his brothers, continued the 
 marriage, and created the eldest son who was 
 born of it Earl of Somerset. Soon after, l\i chard 
 made over I lie rich and prosperous province of 
 Aquitaine to Lancaster and his heirs forever, reserv- 
 
JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 65 
 
 ing their homage to the English crown as vassals for 
 the fief. Gloucester's party consented to this, since it 
 afforded the opportunity of putting Lancaster at a 
 distance. The latter found, however, on his arri- 
 val in Aquitaine, that the inhabitants were ill-dis- 
 posed to receive him as their governor; and their 
 protests soon became so loud, that both the King 
 and the Duke thought it advisable that Lancaster 
 should return to England, much to the chagrin of 
 Gloucester. This daring prince once more strove to 
 wrest the throne from its feeble occupant; but the 
 King now resisted him with unexpected vigor ; York, 
 always vacillating, came over to the support of the 
 Crown; Lancaster remained true to the King; and 
 Gloucester was immured in the dungeon of Calais, 
 where he was probably soon after put to death by 
 violent means. 
 
 The Lady Catharine Swinford, whom Lancaster 
 had married for his third wife, had formerly been 
 his mistress, and had been employed in the house- 
 hold of the first Duchess. She had borne him 
 three children before the marriage : one of whom was 
 created Lord Beaufort ; another, Thomas, became a 
 priest, and rose in the Church to be Lord Bishop of 
 Lincoln. The affection of the Duke for this, his last 
 spouse, was devoted and sincere ; and his children by 
 her rivalled their older brothers and sisters in his 
 love. The latter part of Lancaster's life was employ- 
 ed in affairs of State, in protecting, as far as he could, 
 the integrity of the Crown, in negotiating with the 
 foreign embassies, and in composing the differences 
 of the nobility and princes. He was regarded by all 
 as the most trustworthy of the royal princes, and as 
 having inherited more conspicuously than any of his 
 
GO JOHN OP GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 family, the moderation and clearness of understanding 
 which hud eminently marked the character of his 
 father. In the royal council, as he was the first in 
 rank, so also, by his personal merit, he was the first 
 whose opinion was sought and respected. Whatever 
 ambition the record of his life exhibited him to have 
 possessed, it was observed that in no act had he 
 warranted a suspicion of his fidelity to the occu- 
 pant of the throne. On the contrary, when the un- 
 popularity of Kichard, and the confusion which con- 
 stantly prevailed in the domestic affairs of the realm, 
 afforded the opportunity for an unscrupulous and 
 courageous man to attain to sovereignty, Lancaster 
 had always appeared as the most powerful and zeal- 
 ous supporter of the reigning monarch. It is a sin- 
 gular instance of a persevering, able, and ambitious 
 prince, in a rude age, who having abundant occasion, 
 and certain of large support, nevertheless turned aside 
 from the great temptation, and made his example con- 
 spicuous for the constant loyalty and honor of his life. 
 We have already spoken of the Wiekliffe ref- 
 ormation, and of the course the Duke of Lancaster 
 took during that vital crisis in the history of the 
 Church. He not only, therefore, appears as the rep- 
 resentative of the age of chivalry, as a statesman with- 
 out a blemish upon his loyalty, as a prince whose 
 moderation and sense of justice were lent to the pres- 
 ervation of the State; but also in the nobler and more 
 venerable light of a patron of religions reformation, in 
 times when the Papacy possessed a power which de- 
 manded and enforced the fealty of the greatest sover- 
 eigns, and when to be a reformer was to endanger 
 liberty, life, and reputation. How can Ave, who live 
 iu the pure enlightenment which has grown from that 
 
DUKE OF LANCASTER. 67 
 
 early struggle for religious liberty, praise too much 
 that high-minded prince, whose strong arm protected 
 those earnest men — whose power and reputation 
 shielded the weaker party in the "bitter struggle — 
 whose interposition averted from the truth-seekers of 
 a transition age, the doom which the wrath of a mighty 
 hierarchy sought to cast upon them! This is the 
 light in which we love to regard " time-honored Lan- 
 caster; " for here he rises above the ambitions and 
 eirors of his age ; hero he is the knight-errant, whose 
 aspirations may soar to a higher crown than those of 
 earthly principalities ; here his name stands with that 
 of Wickliffe, as a pioneer of Christian faith, as a 
 champion of free conscience, as a benefactor to all the 
 future. 
 
 John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, lived to 
 witness the important event (which we reserve for 
 another chapter) which led to the establishment of 
 his son and heir upon the throne of England. To the 
 very last the venerable soldier was the guardian of 
 Richard's safety ; and, had his patriotic example been 
 followed by his descendants, the most mournful and 
 most absorbing conflict which English history presents 
 — the "Wars of the Roses — would have been wanting 
 to the romance of the Middle Ages. "We are called 
 upon to narrate!, in the pages which succeed, how the 
 descendants of the patriarch forgot, not only the po- 
 litical purity, but also the religious championship, 
 which might have; been so graceful an inheritance; 
 how ambition led them to put treacherous hands 
 upon the person of royalty, to seize the sovereign 
 power, and to trample upon the rising spirit of re- 
 sistance to Papal tyranny ; how heroically and bril- 
 liantly, nevertheless, they maintained themselves, 
 
OS JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER. 
 
 until a large majority of the kingdom sustained them 
 in usurped power, and united to repel the foreign 
 hosts who sought to replace the legitimate heirs; 
 how, out of their evil lust of glory, proceeded mani- 
 fold blessings to the realm, and how it hastened, on the 
 whole, the current which had already begun to set 
 toward a broader light and a larger freedom. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 " Strives Bolingbroke to be as great as we P " 
 THE EEBELLION AND USURPATION OF HENRY OP LANCASTER. 
 
 The usurpation of the Red Rose grew out of a 
 conversation which toot place, one day, on the road 
 between Brentford and London. A nobleman, riding 
 along toward the metropolis, met another nobleman, 
 and talked treason ; thence budded forth insurrection, 
 usurpation, regicide, and two glorious reigns. Thomas 
 Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, was a middle-aged man, 
 active, restless, and of great influence, the Earl Mar- 
 shal of the realm, and honored, despite his implica- 
 tion in divers conspiracies, at the court of King 
 Richard the Second. He was one of those politicians 
 who are never contented ; who plot and counterplot 
 incessantly ; who are always running their heads, fear- 
 lessly to be sure, but indiscreetly, into danger of 
 decapitation. His late transgressions made him fear- 
 ful lest Richard should visit him with vengeance; and 
 his treason now amounted to a desire to overturn his 
 royal enemy, so that he might no longer be feared. 
 He had a long and garrulous tongue, one which talked 
 him, as we shall see, to destruction. On this road, 
 between Brentford and London, where he was riding, 
 
70 HENRY OV LANCASTER. 
 
 lie chanced upon Harry Bolingbroke* Duke of Here- 
 ford, Lancaster's heir, and cousin to King Richard. 
 The two were old confederates, and had been fast 
 friends — as friendship is among princes.' Both hated 
 the King ; each had a sufficient idea of his own impor- 
 tance, and was convinced that that importance was 
 not appreciated at court. Norfolk, who was always 
 ready to air his suspicions, began to talk about court 
 affairs, and to insinuate that the King was hypocritical 
 in his friendly professions. He sought to alarm Bo- 
 lingbroke with doubt as to his safety. " "We are on 
 the point of being undone," said he. " Our fate will 
 be like that of others before us. The King is going 
 to annul the record of our pardons." Bolingbroke 
 thought it would be marvellous if the King belied 
 himself. 'Tt is a marvellous and false world that we 
 live in," was Norfolk's philosophical reply. " I know 
 well, that had it not been for some persons, my Lord, 
 your father Lancaster and yourself would have been 
 killed when you went to Windsor after the parlia- 
 ment. Albemarle, Exeter, and I have pledged our- 
 selves not to submit to the undoing of any lord. This 
 malicious project belongs to Surrey and Salisbury, 
 drawing to themselves Gloucester. [This was the 
 King's cousin Edmund.] They have sworn to undo 
 Lancaster, yourself, Albemarle, Exeter, and me." 
 " God forbid ! " cried Bolingbroke. '• It will be a won- 
 der if the Kins' assents to such a design, lie now 
 gives me good cheer, and has promised to be my good 
 lord. Indeed he has sworn this, by St. Edward the 
 King, to me." " Aha," returns the Karl Marshal, "so 
 hath ho often sworn to me even by tiod's body; but 
 I do not trust him the more for that, lie is trying 
 
 * Iliiliii^hrokr iviw iU Hint Karl of IVrbv, dud wasnYuted Duke of Ileroford 
 liy Richard. 
 
HENRY OE LANCASTER. 71 
 
 to draw the Earl of March [the legitimate heir, grand- 
 son of Lionel of Clarence] into the scheme." " If that 
 be so," says Harry, " we can never trust them." " Cer- 
 tainly not. If they do not destroy us now, they will 
 some time in the future." Here the discourse ended, 
 and Norfolk, never distrusting his companion, chuck- 
 led in the conviction of having excited Bolingbroke's 
 wrath. Bolingbroke, however, treasured up the con- 
 versation in his memory, and when he arrived at 
 court, detailed it to his cousin the King. Bichard at 
 once summoned a council at Haywood Palace, and 
 commanded Bolingbroke to recount what had been 
 said, in the presence of the State officers. This he did, 
 on his allegiance, the King having already granted 
 him a general pardon. He was then remanded to 
 Parliament, and there, before the assembled lords, 
 again produced his charge against Norfolk, in writing. 
 The next morning he saw the King in private, and, 
 falling on his knees before him, thus addressed him : 
 " My liege lord, there have been riots, troubles, and 
 evil deeds in your realm, to the offence of you and 
 your royal estate ; and in them I know I have taken 
 a part — not, however, for an evil end, or to displease 
 you, as I did not then know that I was doing wrong. 
 But now, sire, I know it, and acknowledge my fault. 
 Wherefore, sire, I cry your mercy, and beg your par- 
 don." This discourse was pleasing to his Majesty, 
 who, with all his faults, had not a vindictive heart. 
 He raised the Duke from the ground with assurances 
 of full pardon. 
 
 While this storm was brewing against Norfolk, 
 that nobleman kept studiously away from Parlia- 
 ment. After Bolingbroke's public avowal, he was 
 arrested and brought before the King at Oswaldstre. 
 
72 HENRY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 He bitterly protested against the charges against him, 
 and denounced Bolingbroke in indignant terms. 
 Falling on his knees at the foot of the throne, he ex- 
 claimed : " My dear lord, with your leave, if I may 
 answer your cousin, I say that Henry of Lancaster is 
 a liar ; and in what he has said and would say of me, 
 he lies like a false traitor as he is." Bolingbroke 
 replied with words equally exciting. An affray in 
 the presence of royalty would have been the result, 
 had they not both been arrested. The quarrel had 
 gone so far, that neither party, according to the 
 chivalric notions of the day, could recall what had 
 been said, without personal dishonor. It was there- 
 fore determined by King Richard and his counsellors 
 that the affair should be referred to what was called, 
 " a high court of chivalry." This court consisted of an 
 assembly of the principal barons and military knights 
 of the realm ; who, having heard the circumstances, 
 adjudged some contest of strength as a trial to the 
 opponents. Richard summoned such an assembly 
 to the castle of Windsor. From far and wide came 
 the great barons and knights, gorgeous] v capari- 
 soned and equipped, their emblazoned banners bome 
 before them by gaudy heralds, and their trains wind- 
 ing far behind them over the rugged and tortu- 
 ous roads. Assembled within the capacious walls of 
 the castle, the two disputants, Bolingbroke and Nor- 
 folk, were brought before their peers, and the cause 
 of discontent was announced. Bolingbroke dis- 
 tinctly and boldly reiterated his charge of treason, 
 and tlie conversation which had taken place on the 
 journey from Brentford to London. Norfolk once 
 more gave the lie to his accuser, saying: "I did indeed 
 speak with disrespect of certain lords, but in noth- 
 
HENRY OF LANCASTER. 73 
 
 ing did I reflect on the character of majesty." The 
 judges, as was the custom of that time, referred the 
 final decision to " the judgment of God " : that is, they 
 ordered wager of battle to be joined, and he that 
 best thrust his lance upon his enemy's body, was to 
 be deemed as having the just cause and the truth on 
 his side. Norfolk, taking his gauntlet from his right 
 hand, threw it at Bolingbroke's feet, and said : " Henry 
 of Hereford, I present my glove, and shall prove, my 
 body against yours, that you are a false and wicked 
 traitor." Bolingbroke stepped back a few paces. 
 After a short silence, advancing toward the throne, he 
 threw his glove down also, and said : " Earl Marshal, 
 I say that thou art a false and wicked traitor which I 
 will bodily prove on thee ; and here is my glove." 
 
 The traveller who makes a pilgrimage to the de- 
 caying but still majestic ruin of Kenilworth, would 
 find himself amply rewarded by extending his jaunt 
 to the neighboring town of Coventry. He would 
 there find not only an interesting specimen of modern 
 English town life, but the remains of a civilization 
 dating far into antiquity. The traditions of Coventry 
 yield many rich memorials to the historian and ro- 
 mancer, who seek to depict the manners and events of 
 the olden time. One of Tennyson's most touching 
 pieces preserves the legend of that Lady Godiva, who 
 did bitter violence to her modesty, that she might re- 
 lieve her townspeople of a designed oppression. Cov- 
 entry seems to have been a favorite spot for jousts and 
 tournaments, for highway exploits, for valiant con- 
 flicts, for fairs and festivals, for royal pageants, for 
 gorgeous marriages and baronial orgies. Chivalry 
 there illustrated its most stately adornments, and the 
 barbarities of which its concomitants almost compel 
 
74 HENRY OF LAN0A8TER. 
 
 admiration. The quaint old chroniclers, and the 
 novelists and poets of later days, seem to linger with 
 delight around the name of Coventry. Many of the 
 relics of the romantic ages still remain — curious habi- 
 tations, crooked and unpaved streets, crumbling walls, 
 and primitive chapels. One half expects to see the 
 gay cavalcade of Elizabeth once more prancing into 
 the town, the crowds of gaily-dressed peasantry filling 
 the streets, the goodwives jostling each other at the 
 narrow windows, the banners of crimson and gold 
 floating above the host of plumes, the steel of helmet 
 and lance glistening in the sun, bugle notes resound- 
 ing along the highway, and, most exciting of all, the 
 train of the auburn-haired Maiden Queen herself, 
 riding in state among her people, Leicester bending 
 toward her from his warrior steed, and the gay-hearted 
 Raleigh, happy in the royal favor, ever at her side. 
 
 Coventry was the spot designated where trial 
 should be had who, in God's judgment, was the real 
 liar and traitor, Henry Bolingbroke or the Earl Mar- 
 shal Norfolk. A combat between two princes of royal 
 blood naturally caused great excitement throughout 
 the country. The nobility and gentry summoned 
 their retinues, took down from the baronial walls 
 their helmets, cuirasses, and lances, donned their 
 cloaks of velvet and gold, unfurled their emblazoned 
 heraldic pennons, and galloped off with all haste to 
 Coventry. The youths flocked together to witness 
 what was becoming a rare sight — a tournament, the 
 import of which was lite or death. Even the fair 
 damsels of that not delicate era longed to lend their 
 inspiring presence to a. scene which should recall the 
 romantic exploits of the crusades, and in which manly 
 valor, ever admirable in gentle eves, was to achieve 
 
HENRY OF LANCASTER. 75 
 
 the victory. The royal cortege, with Eichard and 
 his kinsmen of Lancaster and York, and followed "by 
 swarms of courtiers with brilliant equipages and noble 
 steeds, passed out of the metropolis and took the 
 highway through Middlesex and Warwickshire to- 
 ward the scene of trial. City folk and country folk 
 deserted their accustomed occupations, and were bent 
 on their share in the stately pageant. On the spot 
 designated for the duel, canopies and tents were 
 erected; the royal pavilion, whence floated the es- 
 cutcheon of Plantagenet, was prepared for his Maj- 
 esty the King ; and around it rose the platforms de- 
 signed for the great barons attendant mpon the oc- 
 casion. On the morning of the sixteenth of Septem- 
 ber, the little town overflowed with somewhat of its 
 ancient life, the streets were crowded with people and 
 equipages, and the gaudy processions of knights and 
 soldiers clattered over the pavements, regardless of 
 those on foot, and ever and anon coming in collision 
 with each other. Bolingbroke and Norfolk had ar- 
 rived on the evening previous, and had passed most 
 of the night in consultation with their adherents. 
 Bobngbroke had been closeted with his father, the 
 venerable Lancaster, and had received from him the 
 wise counsels of his affection. 
 
 The royal bugles sounded, and the royal party 
 entered the pavilion. The barons, with their attend- 
 ants, took their places around the space cleared for 
 the duel. The meaner multitude crowded into every 
 nook and corner capable of containing a human body. 
 The heralds proclaimed the wager of battle, and sum- 
 moned the good knights to enter the lists. The 
 trumpet for the onset gave the blast. Bolingbroke, 
 making the 'sign of the cross, advanced, adorned with 
 
76 HENRY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 that device of the red rose which afterward became 
 so significant ; his shield held above his head, and his 
 lance put in rest, directed toward his enemy. Nor- 
 folk muttered, " God speed the right," and kept firm 
 to his ground. A deep silence fell upon the scene — 
 a breathless expectation of the catastrophe. All eyes 
 were intent upon the two glistening knights, on the 
 point of combat. But, when the lances were about 
 to cross, of a sudden the King arose from his throne, 
 threw down his truncheon between the combatants, 
 and in a loud tone commanded them to desist. " I 
 take," said he, " the battle into my own hands. I can- 
 not suffer a contest which, in any event, will disgrace 
 the blood royal of England. Have done, fair cousins, 
 and await my judgment of this grave matter." This, 
 of course, ended the contest. The Dukes retired at 
 once to their stations, and the assemblage had to 
 be content with a peaceful termination of the enter- 
 tainment. The King, resuming his place on the 
 throne, began to confer with his chief officers, and 
 kept all in suspense as to what would be the issue 
 of the matter. Finally the King again arose, and 
 proceeded to announce the result of the conference. 
 Henry of Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, was com- 
 manded to leave England within four months * and 
 was to be exiled from the kingdom for the space of 
 ten years. The Duke of Norfolk was banished for 
 life, and was to abandon all hope of ever returning to 
 his native land. The sentence was more severe than 
 was expected, and caused many murmurs among the 
 nobles who adhered to either party. Both were pop- 
 ular; on the contrary, the King had but few partisans, 
 
 * FrolHH.irl., vol. li., ilmp. xov., ttnya lifteen iluys ; but more accurate authorities 
 say tiH tiliovr. 
 
HENRY OF LANCASTER. 77 
 
 and those were mostly timeservers who sought riches 
 or power by his favor. The tournament having 
 reached this unsatisfactory conclusion, the spectators 
 separated, and the royal retinue turned their faces 
 back toward London. 
 
 Bolingbroke, much chagrined at what he con- 
 sidered the tyranny and jealousy of the sovereign, 
 sullenly set about his preparations for departure. 
 In this state of feeling he was encouraged by many 
 of his friends, especially the Percys, who were 
 his most powerful adherents, and who had many 
 grudges against . Eichard on account of past indig- 
 nities. The popularity of Bolingbroke among the 
 people was manifested wherever he went; he was re- 
 ceived with cheers and words of open sympathy ; and 
 it nattered his pride and his indignation to find that 
 he had the good- will of the subjects against the sov- 
 ereign. When the limit of his stay in England ap- 
 proached, the King was holding court at Eltham; 
 there were with him the Dukes of Lancaster and 
 York, the Earl of Northumberland and his son Henry 
 Percy (afterward famous as Hotspur), and the Earls 
 of Salisbury and Huntingdon, the latter of whom had 
 wedded Bolingbroke's sister. Thither went the exiled 
 prince to take leave of his father and kinsmen, and to 
 pay that last attendance on majesty which courtesy 
 required him to perform. When he was admitted to 
 audience, Richard, approaching him . in a gentle and 
 conciliating manner, said to his cousin : " As God may 
 help me, fair cousin, the words which have passed 
 between you and the Earl Marshal have much vexed 
 me. I have judged the matter to the best of my un- 
 derstanding. To relieve you from somewhat of your 
 pain, I will reduce the term of your banishment to six 
 
78 HENRY OP LANCASTER. 
 
 years. Make your plans accordingly." "Sire," an- 
 swered the Duke, with as much grace as he could 
 summon up, "I humbly thank you; and when it 
 shall be your Majesty's good pleasure you will extend 
 your mercy." The Duke of Lancaster then conduct- 
 ed his son to his closet, and advised him to go to the 
 court of France at once, and thence to make his peti- 
 tions for a remission of the sentence. Lancaster en- 
 tertained a tender fondness for Bolingbroke, who 
 indeed had long evinced an unusual spirit and much 
 of his father's clearness of understanding, and engaged 
 him in a protracted and affectionate interview. Taking 
 leave of his father and the court, Bolingbroke returned 
 to London and made ready for immediate embarkation. 
 On the morning of his exodus from the capital, 
 the streets were thronged with multitudes of the 
 citizens, who manifested their sympathy with him 
 by many lamentations. It is said that forty 
 thousand persons gathered on the line of his route 
 that morning, within the limits of the city. The 
 lord mayor, and a concourse of the higher citizens, 
 attended him; and he was surrounded by many 
 nobles who had long been his partisans and confed- 
 erates in every adventure. He was greeted by ac- 
 clamations on every side. The people said : " Ah, 
 gentle Earl, will you then leave us '? We will never 
 be happy till you return. None can be compared 
 with you. You are our idol. You have never done 
 any wrong. It is shameful that you should be thus 
 driven from among us." * Most of those persons of 
 quality wild had joined him in the city, attended him 
 to Dover; and when ho embarked, many and affec- 
 tionate were the assurances that his friends would re- 
 
 * l'Yoitisnrt. 
 
HENRY OF LANCASTER. 79 
 
 main constant to him, and would further his interests 
 at home, while he was an exile in foreign lands. 
 
 He had sent before him messengers to the French 
 court, soliciting of King Charles the Sixth permission 
 to reside during the term of his banishment at Paris. 
 When Bolingbroke arrived at Calais, his messenger 
 had already returned, and was awaiting him with a 
 favorable reply from the French King. Charles had 
 likewise sent with the messenger a knight, Sir 
 Charles de Hangiers, with orders to conduct the 
 noble exile through his dominions to the metropolis. 
 The enmity between the Kings Richard and Charles 
 made the latter quick to seize an occasion to show 
 attention to one, whom the former had misused ; yet 
 he was probably somewhat reluctant that so spirited 
 and ambitious a prince as Bolingbroke should seek 
 refuge at his court. Bolingbroke set out on his jour- 
 ney toward Paris accompanied by a brilliant retinue 
 of French and English knights, such as was worthy 
 of his exalted rank. Everywhere in his progress 
 through the counties he met with enthusiastic wel- 
 come from the people, who often came out of their 
 towns in multitudes to receive him, and to tender him 
 the hospitality of their vicinity, 
 
 There was at that time in Hainault, a powerful 
 nobleman, William Earl of Ostrevant, a cousin 
 of Bolingbroke's, and a knightly and courteous 
 gentleman. When he learned that his cousin was 
 proceeding to France, he sent two knights to in- 
 vite him to Hainault, where he would be joyfully 
 received and sumptuously entertained. Bolingbroke, 
 however, desirous to reach Paris without delay, de- 
 clined so generous an invitation, and continued his 
 journey toward the capital. As he approached his 
 
80 HENRY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 destination, the Dukes of Orleans, Berri, Bourbon, 
 and Burgundy, princes of the blood royal of France, 
 came out to meet him, followed by a long train of 
 nobles and prelates. The meeting was cordial on 
 both sides, and the cortege of mingled English and 
 French entered Paris with great display and amid 
 much enthusiasm. King Charles received Boling- 
 broke on the steps of the Hotel de St. Paul, which 
 was at that time the favorite royal residence, Avel- 
 comed him to his dominions, and assured him of his 
 protection and good-will while he should tarry near 
 the French court. Bolingbroke's bearing toward the 
 King was so courtly and agreeable, that he became 
 at once a favorite, and received attentions on every 
 hand ; while his winning manner toward the popu- 
 lace charmed and won the Parisians, as it had al- 
 ready gained the hearts of his own countrymen. 
 After taking wine and refreshments with the King 
 of France, the Duke was introduced to the Queen, 
 Isabella of Bavaria, who detained him some time, 
 and entertained him with elegant hospitalities. 
 Thence he went to the H6tel de Clisson near the 
 Temple, which had been provided for him, and 
 supped with his English companions. 
 
 A succession of balls, dinners, and pleasure ex- 
 cursions celebrated his arrival in Paris. The Kins; 
 and princes exerted themselves to the utmost to re- 
 lieve the monotony of his exile. In no court could 
 he have been more gracefully received ; for the French 
 then, as now, were especially skilful in the arts 
 of pleasure and entertainment. Yet Bolingbroke, 
 who had a thoughtful cast of mind, and passed much 
 time in the contemplation of (he closet, was often 
 oppressed by melancholy, and awaited with impa- 
 
HENRY OP LANCASTER. 81 
 
 tience the expiration of his term, of banishment. A 
 man so proud and independent of spirit was ill satis- 
 fied to owe the necearssies of his existence to the favor 
 of a foreign monarch, or to live idle while events of 
 moment were going forward in Europe. The sum of 
 five hundred crowns, to be sure, was drawn weekly 
 from the French treasury for his maintenance ; and 
 constant regard was paid to his comfort and dignity. 
 But this seemed to put him in an attitude of depend- 
 ence upon Charles, and this consideration made him 
 ill at ease. Even the fascinating attentions of the bril- 
 liant and beautiful Isabella of Bavaria, the queen of 
 Charles, could not reconcile the young noble to his lot. 
 A chance soon seemed to offer a relief from his im- 
 patience. About this time an invasion of Hungary by 
 the Turks, Tartars, and other infidels took place, which 
 threatened the existence of that kingdom. Fortunately 
 for Christendom, the late schism in the papacy had 
 just been healed by the vigorous action of the King of 
 France, who had seized the Pope of Avignon, Benedict, 
 and forced him to abdicate his claim to the sacred 
 throne. The Christian nations, therefore, once more 
 united under the Roman pontiff, Urban, could devote 
 themselves to the expulsion of the common enemy from 
 the soil of Hungary. This project awoke the activity 
 and chivalrous ambition of those knights and adventur- 
 ers who loved the pageantry and excitement of war, 
 and whose chieftains were the sons of the royal houses 
 throughout Catholic Europe. Boucicaut, Marshal of 
 France, who had just returned from the conquest of 
 the little papal court at Avignon, was designated as 
 the leader of the French armament, which was to hast- 
 en to Hungary. He began his preparations with all 
 despatch. The stir and bustle in military circles ex- 
 6 
 
•VJ HENRY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 cited the attention and aroused the enthusiasm of 
 Bolingbroke. His temper just then was well toned 
 to such a project as that contemplated. It stnick 
 him as a favorable occasion on which to exercise him- 
 self in those martial arts which were congenial to him, 
 and to withdraw himself from dependence upon the 
 hospitality of Charles. If he should go to the Hun- 
 garian war, he would make his name known and 
 honored by a brilliant career, and the tedious length 
 of his term of exile would pass rapidly away. He 
 therefore sent to England a knight named Dymocke, 
 to solicit the consent of the head of his house, his 
 father, the Duke of Lancaster. 
 
 The envoy was received with cordial welcome 
 by the venerable prince, who had grieved sorely 
 at the banishment of his favorite son, and who 
 had learned with pride that his manly character 
 had won the friendship of the French court. Dy- 
 mocke found Lancaster at Hereford Castle, having 
 lately taken but little part in public affairs ; and 
 here the envoy was entertained with profuse hos- 
 pitality. The Duke's answer to his son regarding 
 the Hungarian expedition was, however, unfavorable 
 to Henry's hopes. He advised him not to go, but 
 either to remain at Paris, or to travel for amusement 
 in Spain and Portugal. It is probable, that the old 
 man felt the near approach of death, and wished his 
 son to be near at hand, in case his forebodings proved 
 true, that he might succeed without difficulty to the 
 inheritances of Lancaster and Hereford. Indeed, the 
 doctors who attended the aged Duke assured Dy- 
 moefce thai, disease had so far penetrated his system 
 that his death might be looked for at a period not 
 far remote. This consideration determined Boling- 
 
HENRY OF LANCASTER. 83 
 
 broke, however reluctant, to tarry at Paris, and to give 
 over farther hope of present adventure. 
 
 Bolingbroke' s "banishment took place in Septem- 
 ber, 1398. About the Christmas time following Lan- 
 caster began to grow rapidly worse. In February, 
 1399, this venerable and illustrious prince died, 
 mourned by the court and the people, but to the ill- 
 concealed joy of the King. He had brooded over his 
 son's exile, and the feelings natural to one so affec- 
 tionate doubtless hurried on the disease which over- 
 came him. He was the last of those heroic children 
 of the great King Edward the Third, who emulated 
 and kept in mind the fame of their father ; for the 
 Duke of York,* the last surviving brother, was, as is 
 evident, of so gentle and retiring a disposition, that 
 he seemed not of the same blood with his kinsmen. 
 
 The death of the Duke of Lancaster gave rise to 
 many surmises on the part of the nobles and citizens 
 in England, as to what course Richard would now 
 pursue toward his cousin Bolingbroke. The rich in- 
 heritances which Lancaster had enjoyed in his own 
 and his wife's right lay idle, and awaited their right- 
 ful possessor. A seat in the King's council, due to a 
 prince of the blood royal, was vacant. Would the 
 King forget his jealousy of Bolingbroke, pardon his 
 offence, remit further punishment, and generously re- 
 call him to the rank and estate of which he was the 
 heir ? By putting confidence in his cousin, said 
 some, Richard would gain to himself a wise counsel- 
 lor and an active general ; his throne, now tottering, 
 would be propped up by the strong support of a 
 royal Duke, at once the pride of the nobility and the 
 universal favorite of the people. Several courtiers 
 
 * Known also as the Earl of Cambridge. 
 
S3 
 
 84 HENRY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 were bold enough to hint these considerations to 
 Richard, and to warn him against the danger of still 
 encouraging the enmity of so proud and popular a 
 nobleman. But Richard was obstinate. He weakly 
 gave way to his anger, and indignantly sent the 
 officious counsellors from his presence. Then, as if 
 to defy the indignation of his cousin and of his sub- 
 jects, he sent his officers to seize the estates of Lan- 
 caster, devoted the rents to the royal treasury, and 
 commanded that none of the proceeds of the inheritance 
 should be conveyed to Henry at Paris. At the same 
 time he wrote a letter to the King of France, announc- 
 ing the death of John of Lancaster, the expressions of 
 which but feebly concealed the exultation which that 
 event had given him. Meanwhile, he did not deign 
 to intimate the news to Henry. The latter, however, 
 received the intelligence from his private couriers 
 before Richard's letter reached the court of France, 
 and appeared publicly with his retinue in full mourn- 
 ing. He ordered the obsequies of his father to be 
 performed with great pomp at Paris ; and the King 
 of France and the royal dukes manifested their sym- 
 pathy for Bolingbroke by attending the ceremony in 
 a body. He was visited by the principal personages 
 at the metropolis, and received abundant proof that 
 the malignity of his royal cousin was by no means 
 approved of by the French. 
 
 Bolingbroke, whose titles had been Earl of Derby 
 and Duke of Hereford, was now Duke of Lancaster: he 
 stood second in the succession to the throne ; and as 
 the heir presumptive, tlic young Earl of March, had 
 hardly reached the years of manhood, lie was the most 
 considerable subject of England. The reflection that 
 one entitled to stand so near the throne was not onlv 
 
HENBT OF LANCASTER. 85 
 
 subjected to ignominious exile, but was also deprived 
 of his estates, and the object of repeated insults from 
 the King, wounded the just pride of the injured prince, 
 and excited in him a spirit of ambition and revenge, 
 which his vigorous character made worthy to be feared 
 and conciliated. While such thoughts occupied his 
 mind in Paris, the English people, and especially the 
 people of the metropolis, who were strongly attached 
 to him, began to grumble at so monstrous an injus- 
 tice, which filled the measure of the iniquities to 
 which they themselves had been subjected by the 
 foolish tyranny of Richard. To the commonalty may 
 be added the great house of Percy, the virtual sover- 
 eigns of the north, and other nobles, who, from a con- 
 sistent adherence to the Lancaster family, or dislike 
 of the measures and bearing of Richard, were encour- 
 aged to espouse the cause of the new Duke. Thus 
 Lancaster could safely reckon on the French court, a 
 majority of the English nobility, a great proportion of 
 the English people, the personal weakness of Richard, 
 and the justice of his own claim, if he desired to resist 
 the capricious tyranny to which he had been subjected. 
 A practical demonstration of the good-will of 
 King Charles and his family was, about this time, 
 added to the expressions of sympathy of which 
 they had already been profuse. Marie de Berri, 
 Countess d'Eu, was the daughter of the Duke de Berri, 
 the next younger brother of Charles the Fifth, and 
 uncle of the reigning sovereign. She was the most 
 beautiful and charming princess at the court ; was 
 twenty-three years of age, and had been twice mar- 
 ried, to Louis Count de Blois, and to Philip d'Artois, 
 a heroic knight, who had fallen at the head of a Chris- 
 tian legion in the Hungarian Crusade. Charles pro- 
 
88 HENRY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 for the tournament came, the attendance was so small 
 that the affair proved a failure. This was an alarm- 
 ing evidence of the strength of Bolinghroke, and 
 afforded, as Eichard could not but perceive, much 
 ground of encouragement to his supporters. 
 
 The quarrel between Eichard and Lancaster was 
 assuming the magnitude of a national one ; and it seem- 
 ed that the great majority were arraying themselves 
 against the sovereign. The principal friends of the 
 t)vike met together in frequent consultation ; the King's 
 tyrannies and insults to Lancaster were kept constantly 
 before the people ; emissaries were despatched to the 
 distant counties to sound the feelings of the gentry ; 
 spies were set upon the King ; those favorable to the 
 Duke armed themselves; and an industrious corre- 
 spondence was constantly maintained between London 
 and the Hotel de Clisson. 
 
 When these hostile counsels were at their height, 
 and when the daily occurrences in the metropolis must 
 have warned him of his insecurity, Eichard had the 
 inexplicable imprudence to set out on an expedition to 
 suppress some troubles in Ireland. Eoger Mortimer, 
 Earl of Marche, had been slain in attempting to quell 
 an insurrection. The rude natives of Erin were still 
 in arms, defying the Crown. The King Avas enraged 
 at the death of his cousin, and at the continued au- 
 dacity of the subject race. He left London in the 
 midst of impending dangers, and went over to Ire- 
 land to administer chastisement. A train of knights 
 followed him, with much murmuring and discontent ; 
 some, friendly to him, being indignant that he should 
 so expose himself to rebellion at home; others, not so 
 well affected, being angry that they should miss the 
 chance which seemed to oiler to the friends of Lancas- 
 
HENRY OP LANCASTER. 89 
 
 ter. The King's armament consisted of about twelve 
 thousand men. The Earl of Northumberland and the 
 brave Harry Percy, his son, absolutely refused to attend 
 him. A messenger of Richard, sent by him to Alnwick 
 Castle to summon these barons, was immediately 
 ordered back with the answer that they should not 
 obey the summons. The King, incensed, and spurred 
 on by his ministers, issued an order banishing the 
 Percys from the realm. When this sentence reached 
 the ears of Northumberland, he summoned a council 
 of his friends and adherents ; for he was virtually 
 sovereign in the northern shires. They advised that 
 he should ask an asylum of King Robert in Scotland, 
 but that he should remain on his estates until com- 
 pelled to depart by force. It was shrewdly conj ectured 
 that Richard had sufficient difficulties to encounter 
 without entering upon a civil war with rebels so able 
 to defend themselves. They therefore felt secure in 
 tacitly resisting the King's decree. The King of Scot- 
 land, an ally of Charles of France, and an enemy of 
 the King of England, promptly responded to the 
 appeal of his neighbor. He offered him protection in 
 the Scotch territory, and a force, if necessary, to con- 
 duct him thither in safety. 
 
 The commotions in England daily increased, and 
 grew to such proportions as might well alarm the court 
 of Richard. Hardly had he turned his back upon the 
 capital, when discontent boldly reared its front in all 
 directions. As the King receded from the only place 
 where his royalty was secure, the premonitions of the 
 approaching storm became loud and frequent. The 
 courts of justice were obliged to suspend their sessions. 
 Trade, to a great extent, ceased. It was unsafe for mer- 
 chants to travel. Theft met with no punishment, hardly 
 
92 IITCNHY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 on a pilgrimage to the Isle of France. His guide soon 
 brought him to the metropolis, where from prudential 
 motives he still continued his disguise. After satisfy- 
 ing: himself of the situation of the Duke of Lancaster, 
 and that he was ready to listen to propositions such 
 as he had been instructed to make, he visited him at 
 the Hotel de Winchester, a palace of the Duke of 
 Berri's, which had been tendered to Lancaster as a 
 residence, instead of the smaller mansion of Clisson. 
 
 Lancaster received the Archbishop with undis- 
 guised joy, surmising that he came as the envoy of 
 his friends at home, and on a mission of no small im- 
 portance. A long consultation was held in the 
 Duke's closet, during which Fitz-Alan described the 
 wretched state into which England had fallen through 
 the follies of the King. He informed Lancaster of the 
 good feeling existing toward him everywhere, and 
 urged him to take prompt action in returning and 
 attempting the restoration of order and good govern- 
 ment. " The people are determined," declared he, "to 
 rise against Richard of Bordeaux; they will suffer 
 him no longer. He has brought them well-nigh to 
 ruin ; he has seized their estates, imprisoned their per- 
 sons, permitted robbery and murder, neglected their 
 interests, and taken their means of living. It is for 
 you, noble Duke, to deliver them frora this weak and 
 wicked reign ; it is your task to be the wise arbiter 
 between an obstinate monarch and an injured people. 
 The chance is yours ; once lost, it goes to other hands 
 to do the work, and you never will be able to regain 
 it. I therefore beseech you to accompany me to Eng- 
 land, and put your noble person at the head of the 
 outraged people, and as their leader to demand a res- 
 toration of pc.'iee and justice. You will be met by the 
 
HENRY OF LANCASTER. 93 
 
 rejoicings of a whole nation, and that your own native 
 people." 
 
 Lancaster listened to the prelate with, close attention 
 until he paused. The habit of his mind was deliber- 
 ate, and although what he now heard doubtless filled 
 him with the profoundest satisfaction, he had too much 
 sense to rush headlong into any project, however fair. 
 For some time he did not speak at all ; but leaning 
 out of the window and gazing upon the gardens below, 
 gave himself up to intense and anxious thought. Then 
 turning to the envoy, after expressing his gratifi- 
 cation at the kind feeling exhibited toward him in 
 England, he said : " What your Grace has said requires 
 much thought. I should be unwilling to begin such 
 an experiment without the certainty of success ; failure 
 would be fatal to the hopes of the people. I will call 
 together those of my counsellors who happen to be in 
 Paris, and will submit your communication to them. 
 Their advice will doubtless be consonant with my 
 own judgment, after I shall have duly deliberated on 
 a matter of such high moment." The council, when 
 called, had but one thought and one word. " Go forth, 
 brave Duke," came from all mouths; "go forth, and vin- 
 dicate the glory of your descent. Prove yourself 
 worthy of the blood of Edward the Victorious and 
 Edward the Black Prince. Accept the hearts of the 
 people. Eaise the standard of resistance to tyranny ; 
 snatch the crown from its debasement. "We will follow 
 you through every danger ; we will defend you from 
 every peril. Let not this appeal from our countrymen 
 be unanswered. Hasten, gentle prince, to respond to the 
 summons by which Providence, through the mouths of 
 the people, calls on you to be their deliverer." Such ad- 
 dresses could not but delight the ambitious heart of 
 
04 HENEY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 Henry. They echoed his highest desire. A glorious 
 prospect seemed to open before him. It is probable 
 that he did not, at that time, dare to think of the 
 crown ; but it was sufficient happiness to humble his 
 royal enemy, to recover his proper rank and privileges, 
 and to add to his influence as the first subject in the 
 realm, the gratitude of a country restored to the bless- 
 ings of good government. The counsel of his friends 
 at Paris, then, was readily approved. With the utmost 
 secrecy he set about maturing the scheme, and pre- 
 paring to carry it into execution. So quietly did the 
 work go forward, that no one, except those implicated, 
 suspected that any thing unusual was taking place. 
 Meanwhile emissaries were constantly passing be- 
 tween the Percys and Lancaster, the plot was rapidly 
 maturing, and the friends of the cause were getting 
 ready for the crisis. 
 
 It was thought best to conceal the whole mat- 
 ter from the court of King Charles, and even from 
 the sovereign himself, and that a pretence should 
 be made that Lancaster wished to visit the Duke 
 of Brittany, his relative, by which alone suspicion 
 would be allayed. The Duke of Brittany had mar- 
 ried a daughter of Edward the Third of England, 
 and was, therefore, an uncle-in-law of the Duke of 
 Lancaster. This gave a show of reason for the pro- 
 posed visit. King Charles, much regretting to lose 
 the companionship of so gallant and amiable a man, 
 nevertheless acquiesced in his departure, entirely blind 
 to the real design. Lancaster, whose acquaintance at 
 the French court was very large, thought it policy to 
 give a series of entertainments before his exit. He 
 spent the last weeks of his sojourn in Paris in conviv- 
 iality and in the expensive pleasures of the age. 
 
HENRY OF LANCASTER. 95 
 
 The Hotel de Winchester night after night resound- 
 ed with feasting, revelry, music, and dancing, and receiv- 
 ed within its portals the royalty and chivalry of the 
 most gallant and vivacious of nations. The farewell 
 supper given by Lancaster is described to have been 
 regal in its profusion and magnificence. The uncles 
 and brothers of Charles the Sixth were present, and 
 added dignity to the scene — the haughty Burgundy, 
 the avaricious Berri, the gentle Bourbon, and the hand- 
 some and elegant Orleans. A French escort was or- 
 dered to conduct Lancaster and his suite into Brittany. 
 
 On the morning designated for his departure, the 
 scene before his hotel was full of life and confusion. 
 The gay cavaliers, full panoplied in their richest man- 
 tles, their crimson and white plumes rising gracefully 
 from new-burnished helmets, bearing upon their breasts 
 the antelope of the Lancasters, the swan of the Here- 
 fords, and above both the ominous red rose of Harry 
 Bolingbroke, and doubly armed, as if for a warlike 
 purpose, gathered in the street, chatted, laughed, 
 bade farewell to French intimates, and . awaited the 
 coming of their lord. Squires and lackeys hastened 
 about with anxious faces, bustling hither and thither 
 to give final orders, and scrutinizing the elaborate out- 
 fits which had been prepared for the journey. Here 
 and there might be discovered the melancholy visage 
 of a Parisian beauty, who had come to catch a last 
 glimpse, and to receive a parting tender word, from her 
 English lover, whom she would caress no more. Royal 
 servants were going to and from the Louvre, conveying 
 souvenirs of kingly favor, and aiding to give 6clat to 
 the departure of so esteemed a guest. The French es- 
 cort, led by a knight of fair renown, generously mount- 
 ed and equipped, mingled freely with the English train. 
 
!)6 IIEKRY OF LAN0A8TEE. 
 
 Finally, Henry, with the Archbishop, in disguise 
 as a gentleman attendant, by his side, came forth from 
 the hotel, clad in armor, and prepared in all re- 
 spects for a long journey. The cavalcade at once 
 formed, and took its course out of Paris by the gate of 
 St. Jacques, followed by a large concourse of people, who 
 bade adieu with much regret to the gracious Duke of 
 Lancaster. When they reached Blois, a halt was or- 
 dered, and a knight and herald were despached to the 
 Duke of Brittany, to make known to him the ap- 
 proach of his cousin. When the Duke heard the mes- 
 sage, he exclaimed to Sir William Perriere, the envoy: 
 " Why, my lord, has our nephew stopped on the road, 
 since he intends to visit us, and has not come directly 
 hither ? " Sir William replied that courtesy toward 
 his Grace made it just to request permission to enter 
 Brittany. " It is foolish," returned John ; " for there 
 is no knight whom for these last seven years I should 
 more gladly see in Brittany, than my fair nephew 
 Lancaster." So kind a response moved Henry to set 
 out at . once from Blois, and hasten to Nantes, where 
 his uncle the Duke awaited him. The meeting of 
 the princes was most affectionate. The Duke John 
 had long preferred the children of John of Gaunt to 
 the rest of his royal relatives, and his especial favorite 
 among them all was Bolingbroke, whose early exhi- 
 bitions of spirit and gallantry had charmed him when 
 from time to time he visited England. Every species 
 of entertainment customary in that age was provided 
 for the amusement of the guest, and every day added evi- 
 dence of the sincere good-will of the Duke of Brittany. 
 
 When Lancaster observed his uncle so kindly dis- 
 posed, he resolved to make known to him the real ob- 
 ject of his departure from Paris, and to seek his ad- 
 
HEttEY OS LANCASTER. 97 
 
 vice in the present dilemma. After he had related to 
 him the circumstances of his banishment, the seizure 
 of his estates, the jealousy of Richard, the prevention 
 of his marriage with Marie de Berri, and the humili- 
 ating insults to which he had been subjected by the 
 King of England, and when he added his determina-~ 
 tion to seek redress by boldly entering England, as he 
 had been urged by the people, the Duke John fully 
 approved of the design, and declared it to be practi- 
 cable. " Fair nephew," said he, " the straightest road 
 is always the best and surest. You are in a distress- 
 ing situation, and ask advice. I therefore recommend 
 you to trust to the Londoners. They are powerful, 
 and can compel Richard to come to terms. I will as- 
 sist you with vessels, men-at-arms, and cross-bows, to 
 convey you over the sea, and to defend you against 
 the dangers you may meet with." 
 
 This distinct approval of his determination spurred 
 Henry to accelerate his plans and to complete his prep- 
 arations for crossing the channel. He hired three ves- 
 sels to convey his attendants and soldiers ; and, the 
 wind becoming favorable, he embarked for his native 
 country, carrying with him the best wishes of Duke 
 John of Brittany. The voyage was rapid and successful ; 
 and on the fourth day of July, 1399, Henry Bolingbroke, 
 Duke of Lancaster and Hereford, and Earl of Derby, 
 once more planted his foot upon English soil at Raven- 
 spur, near Hull, in Yorkshire.* His'force and attend- 
 ance was so small that little suspicion was created by 
 his arrival ; the Archbishop Arundel allayed what 
 there was, by declaring them to be a troop sent by 
 the Duke of Brittany to reenforce King Richard. 
 Before leaving his vessel, Lancaster had so disguised 
 
 * Froissart says Plymouth ; all others Earenspur. 
 7 
 
98 HENRY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 himself, that even those who knew his person would 
 fail to recognize him. Messengers were immediately 
 despatched to London and to the Percys, announcing 
 the presence of Henry in England, and calling on his 
 adherents to rise and maintain his cause throughout 
 the realm. The little band of twenty started toward 
 the metropolis, with Henry at their head. Ere long 
 the Earls of Northumberland and "Westmoreland, with 
 numerous and completely armed retinues, joined them 
 from the north; and as they progressed, the little 
 nucleus swelled and swelled, till the body began to 
 assume the proportions of an army, and Henry, at 
 first a lord surrounded by a body-guard, soon found 
 himself a general at the head of thousands. 
 
 Edmund Duke of York, uncle to the King and Lan- 
 caster, was acting as Regent in the absence of Richard in 
 L-eland. "When he heard that a formidable host was ac- 
 cumulating, and Avith a rebellious design was advancing 
 on London, he issued a proclamation, calling on all true 
 subjects to assemble at St. Albans, and to defend the 
 throne. Forty thousand men answered the summons. 
 York put himself at the head of this hastily-gathered 
 army, and prepared to intercept the insurgent forces. 
 He found, however, to his chagrin, that his forces 
 were not animated by a spirit which presaged success. 
 Indeed, a disinclination to march against Henry soon 
 manifested itself ; and when the royal troops learned 
 how, flushed with success and hope, the insurgent 
 host was advancing, they became quite disheartened, 
 so that the Regent was fain to abandon the intention 
 to assume an offensive front. 
 
 As Henry progressed, the royal troops became less 
 and less inclined to put themselves in his way. The 
 Karl of Wiltshire, who had been posted with a corps of 
 
HENRY OF LANCASTER. 99 
 
 knights to oppose him, retired from his path, shut him- 
 self up in Bristol, and awaited the issue. The nobility, 
 as well as the common people, began to flock to the 
 Lancastrian standard. Lancaster, when he approached 
 the main army under York, sent to his uncle and be- 
 sought him not to obstruct his passage to London, de- 
 claring his intention to be only to recover his just rank 
 and estates. York, always preferring peaceful measures, 
 incompetent to command, fearful of his soldiers, and 
 persuaded by his officers, returned an amicable reply, 
 and forthwith Henry's army was swelled by the con- 
 course of those who had convened to oppose him. He 
 marched at once to Bristol, laid rapid siege to that town, 
 and reduced it with little difficulty. Lord Wiltshire 
 and his lieutenants were executed, and most of his sol- 
 diers joined the rebellious, now become a revolutionary, 
 column. 
 
 Henry found himself in command of full sixty 
 thousand men. The lieutenants who led the divi- 
 sions of his army were from the oldest and most 
 chivalrous houses of England. By his side rode 
 the chief priest of the State Church, Arundel, Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, no longer constrained to dis- 
 guise his sacred dignity, but attired in the flowing 
 surplice and coroneted mitre of his exalted office. 
 Harry Percy, hardly more than a boy, yet already a 
 warrior of high renown, was the centre of as brilliant 
 a group of noble youths as could have been collected 
 from any court in Europe. A large proportion of the 
 landed property of England was represented in that 
 army. In military, civil, and religious talent, the assem- 
 blage was much more conspicuous than was the camp 
 of their sovereign and adversary. The enthusiasm and 
 confidence was all on one side. The King's friends de- 
 
100 IIENHY OF LANCASTEK. 
 
 cicled their chance hopeless, before they raised their 
 hands to resist. Alarge majority of the prelates were to 
 be found in Richard's train ; and their influence "was in- 
 calculable in securing the adhesion of the peasantry. 
 
 The messengers who had gone before to the me- 
 tropolis, had prepared the citizens for the approach 
 of their favorite. No one any longer heeded the 
 law or the royal authorities. All respect for the 
 kingly dignity was thrown aside. Richard's name 
 was openly jeered and laughed at. A large concourse 
 of citizens met together at once, and it was resolved 
 that they should go out en masse to welcome Henry 
 to London. The Lord Mayor put himself at the head 
 of his constituents, surrounded by noblemen and civic 
 dignitaries, and passed beyond the city walls without 
 molestation from the officers of the King. Henry had 
 meanwhile taken the direct road from Bristol to Lon- 
 don, and was rapidly approaching the city. At Guil- 
 ford, about twenty-five miles from London, he met the 
 Lord Mayor and the citizens, received their congratu- 
 lations and assurances of support, and the night was 
 spent in merrymaking and needful repose. 
 
 Early on the following morning Henry, with the 
 Archbishop on his right hand and the Lord Mayor on his 
 left, and followed by his rejoicing army, resumed his 
 march. As he approached the capital, men, women, and 
 children in a dense mass flocked out on the road to wel- 
 come him hither. Nobles and priests, attired in the 
 splendid habiliments of their orders, appeared in his 
 path and hailed him as the deliverer of the Church 
 and the State. " "Welcome ! welcome ! good Derby ! " 
 resounded on every side. Rude eulogies on Henry 
 ofBolingbroke were mingled with curses on Richard 
 of Bordeaux. It was unmistakably a revolution — a 
 
HENRY OE LANCASTER. 101 
 
 revolution into which the large preponderance of all 
 classes entered. The people's will, for once, spoke 
 loudly and with no doubtful import. Their chosen 
 lord was come — the transition of allegiance was Loth 
 sudden and decisive. In the midst of an ovation 
 which surprised those who had been most sanguine, 
 Henry rode with a calm and majestic air, his counte- 
 nance only betraying his exultation by a placid smile, 
 and his whole demeanor complacent, yet full of dig- 
 nity. In the height of an excitement such as made 
 his companions restless and wild with joy, the hero of 
 the pageant exhibited no passionate emotion, and was 
 throughout deliberate and self-possessed. He returned, 
 indeed, the salutations of the multitude by graceful 
 bows and an occasional kind expression, and showed 
 his appreciation of their affection in a manner which, 
 though calm, left no doubt of sincerity. His noble 
 carriage and the elegant repose of his features drew 
 admiration from every breast. His smile, singulai'ly 
 attractive, reassured everyone of those full and anxious 
 hearts. He looked, indeed, according to those who 
 witnessed his entrance into London, every inch a king, 
 a worthy Plantagenet, a true champion of regal dig- 
 nity. Lancaster was escorted to his own house in the 
 city, and there received the great state and religious 
 dignitaries who were at that time in London. The 
 dowager Duchess of Gloucester, who, it may be con- 
 jectured, thoroughly detested Eichard for the murder 
 of her husband, came with her daughters to encourage 
 and stimulate her nephew. Her son Humphrey, now 
 Duke of Gloucester, was with the King in Ireland, in 
 compulsory attendance. 
 
 The whole city had the appearance of a gala day ; 
 the shops were closed ; the people flocked about the 
 
102 HENRY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 streets in gay attire, all having fastened a red rose to 
 their breasts ; the chariots of the nobility and prelacy 
 were passing rapidly to and fro ; the praises of Hemy 
 were in every mouth, and the one cry was for the de- 
 position of Eichard of Bordeaux. Having discharged, 
 with thanks and presents, the faithful band of Bretons 
 who had escorted him to England, Lancaster quickly 
 raised a force of twelve thousand men, and set out by 
 forced marches toward the west, for the purpose of 
 encountering the King. 
 
 Richard did not receive intelligence of the in- 
 vasion of his crown until Henry had been three 
 weeks in England. He was still in Ireland when 
 the news reached him. Many officers of his army, 
 who had known the events, had shrunk from dis- 
 closing them to the King. Sir Richard Scroop at 
 last found courage to speak. Richard for the second 
 time in his life exhibited a prompt and energetic 
 spirit, such as had quelled the riots of Wat Tyler. 
 He ordered Salisbury to sail with a considerable force 
 to Conway, in Wales, and to incite the Welsh to an 
 active defence of the royal standard. Richard him- 
 self would follow with the remainder of the amiy 
 from Waterford. Salisbury succeeded in gathering a 
 fair number from the Welsh mountains. Richard 
 landed soon after at Milforcl with his suite and five 
 or six thousand soldiers. But this force had no sooner 
 found themselves on English soil, than the discontent 
 with which they had followed the King to Ireland 
 increased, and their favorable inclinations toward 
 Henry appeared. The next morning after his disem- 
 barkation, the King arose and looked out upon his 
 camp. To his utter chagrin it seemed almost desert- 
 ed. Durintr the niidifc whole battalions had left their 
 
HENRY OF LANCASTER. 103 
 
 tents, and were now full on their way toward the 
 usurper's headquarters. Humphrey Duke of Glouces- 
 ter, and Richard Earl of Arundel, had disappeared. 
 A council of war, called immediately, exhibited a wo- 
 ful paucity in number, and great depression of spirits. 
 It was discovered that even among the inferior force 
 that remained, there were loud murmurs and much 
 wavering. The King, notwithstanding, exhibited 
 more resolution than his most courageous coun- 
 sellors. "I will not fly in the face of my subjects," 
 said he. It was a rash speech, but a brave one. The 
 lords and bishops urged him to fly to a place of safety ; 
 he was no longer secure with his own army. It was 
 folly, they said, to march with a despondent force 
 against an exultant force, twice as large. Some wished 
 him to retire from the kingdom altogether; others 
 said this would be virtual abdication, and proposed 
 that he should join the forces under Salisbury at 
 Conway. The latter advice, after much discussion, 
 prevailed. That night Richard, accompanied by Ex- 
 eter, Surrey, Scroop, Feriby, and the Bishop of Carlisle, 
 crept away in the disguise of a monk, and turned to- 
 ward Conway. About the same time the Duke of 
 Albemarle and Sir Thomas Percy fled in anothei 
 direction to join Henry. The flight of the King was 
 successfully accomplished. "When it was discovered, 
 the army disbanded, and many followed their late 
 companions into the camp of the victorious prince. 
 
 Meanwhile Richard, having arrived without any 
 mischance at Conway Castle, found to his grief that 
 what had happened to him had also occurred to Salis- 
 bury. That nobleman was found to be in command 
 of a pitiful troop ; most of his army had, like that of 
 Richard, deserted. The neighboring castles were ex- 
 
104 IIENEY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 ainined, and proved to be deficient in force, soundness, 
 and provisions. Then Kichard seems to have felt 
 that his crown was lost to him. The two "bastard 
 brothers of the King, the Duke of Exeter and the 
 Duke of Surrey, were sent forward to treat with 
 the advancing insurgents, now become revolutionists. 
 Meanwhile Henry had made good progress, each day 
 adding to his force, and the people all along his route 
 greeting him and cheering him on with joyful accla- 
 mations. At Cirencester Gloucester and Arundel 
 joined him ; and as he drew nearer and nearer the 
 western coast, the deserters from the royal standard 
 flocked about him in constantly increasing numbers. 
 He began to feel himself secure of the supreme power, 
 and no doubt by this time had determined to place 
 the crown on his own head. 
 
 When the envoys of the King, Exeter and 
 Surrey, came to him, they were courteously re- 
 ceived, and treated with kind consideration; but 
 Henry had reasons for detaining them, therefore 
 they became in a manner his prisoners. His idea 
 was that Richard would escape, when he found re- 
 sistance hopeless,' if the Dukes returned to him; but 
 would await them in Conway Castle. He desired 
 above all things to make sure of Richard's person. 
 He therefore ' sent forward the Earl of Northumber- 
 land, his most powerful adherent, to make specious 
 offers to the King, and to detain him by every means 
 till Henry should come up. The propositions submit- 
 ted to the King were, that he should govern accord- 
 ing to the constitution of the realm; that he should 
 deliver up Exeter, Surrey, Salisbury, and the Bishop 
 of Carlisle, to be tried for the murder of Gloucester; 
 that Lancaster should be made grand justiciary. An 
 
HENRY OE LANCASTER. 105 
 
 interview was also requested between Henry and 
 Richard at Flint Castle, which was near by. These 
 terms the King accepted, and having made Northum- 
 land to swear fidelity, at once prepared to meet his 
 cousin and enemy. 
 
 By this time Henry had approached so rapidly 
 that the King, having mounted and come out of 
 the castle on his way to Flint, observing the 
 banners and symbols of the red rose flaunt- 
 ing to the breeze in the distance, exclaimed : " I am 
 betrayed ! God of Paradise, assist me ! " Northum- 
 berland now came up with several hundred lances, 
 and informed his Majesty that he would escort him 
 to Castle Flint. Eichard turned his horse, as if to 
 retrace his steps to Conway ; but the Earl, seizing the 
 bridle, declared that he should not turn back, but 
 that it was necessary for him to be conducted to the 
 Duke of Lancaster. The unfortunate monarch was 
 obliged to submit to this indignity, and without fur- 
 ther resistance suffered himself to be conveyed under 
 the surveillance of the Earl's troop to the designated 
 spot. It may be imagined that the evening and night 
 were spent in sad apprehension and foreboding, and 
 that the fallen prince, though wearied, failed to obtain 
 his needed rest. He was held as a prisoner in the 
 castle, and could get no communication to his friends 
 at a distance. The guards of the Earl of Northum- 
 berland kept vigilant watch. The royal bird was at 
 last fairly and securely caged. 
 
 In the morning he arose, dressed himself, and 
 ascended the donjon-keep of the castle. He beheld a 
 great and brilliant host of soldiers, with banners bear- 
 ing the escutcheon of Lancaster, winding along over 
 the broad beach which swept beneath the castle walls 
 
10G IIENEY OF LANCA8TEK. 
 
 toward him. This sight, which brought with it the 
 certainty of his fate, at last unnerved him, and he 
 sank to the pavement in a paroxysm of grief and de- 
 spair. Henry, meanwhile, accompanied by a small 
 body-guard, approached the moat, and knocked loudly 
 at the gate. In answer to the demand from within 
 who he was, he shouted : " I am Henry of Lancaster, 
 and demand audience of the King." Kichard, after a 
 little hesitation, ordered his officers to admit Henry 
 and eleven followers within the walls. The wicket 
 was therefore opened, and the rebellious Duke marched 
 into the presence of his sovereign rather as if he were 
 the master than the vassal. The King, when he saw 
 his cousin thus proudly advancing, changed color and 
 was about to speak ; but Henry interrupted him, and 
 asked him if he had breakfasted. " No," said Kichard, 
 " 'tis yet early morn ; why do you ask ? " " It is time 
 you should breakfast," answered the Duke, "for 
 you have a long way to go." " Where ? " asked the 
 terrified King. " To London." Richard was urged 
 to eat by his attendants, and he tried to swallow a 
 meagre breakfast ; but so oppressed was his heart, 
 that it was with difficulty that he ate enough to sus- 
 tain him. 
 
 He was then formally taken prisoner by Henry, 
 as well as such of his adherents as were there present. 
 Strict orders were given, however, that none of the 
 King's friends should be robbed, or deprived of any 
 article whatever, except their swords. The King was 
 mounted on one of Lancaster's horses, and Salisbury on 
 another. Richard and Henry rode down through the 
 court of the castle and over the drawbridge together, 
 in deep conversation; the King with his head bowed 
 down, his (yes on the ground, and his countenance 
 
HENRY OF LANCASTER. 107 
 
 full of distress; Henry proud, calm, and serious. 
 Shouts of derision, but ill repressed, met the fallen 
 King as he rode through the throng of his once loyal 
 subjects. Henry ordered the army to take the road 
 to Chester, and himself conducted the King thither. 
 From that place writs of election were issued at the de- 
 mand of the Duke for a new Parliament. After three 
 days of rest, the journey toward London was resumed 
 without incident until the cortege reached Lichfield. 
 Henry had already disbanded the greater part of his 
 forces. 
 
 At Lichfield, Richard, having given up all hope 
 of safety while in the hands of his cousin, attempted 
 to escape by slipping down from the castle tower in 
 which he was confined at night, into the garden be- 
 low ; but here he was taken in the act of flight by the 
 vigilance of Henry's guard, and restored to confine- 
 ment. This incident increased the Duke's haste to 
 reach London, and he passed rapidly through Coven- 
 try, Northampton, and St. Albans with his royal pris- 
 oner. When they were yet distant from London 
 about six miles, the Lord Mayor and the companies 
 in livery came out to meet the cavalcade and to escort 
 the princes within the city. The obsequious atten- 
 tions of these city fathers were observed to be direct- 
 ed almost entirely to Henry, while Richard was 
 scarcely vouchsafed a recognition. Ever thus, from 
 the beginning of the world, have those been insulted 
 who have fallen from a high estate. The multitude 
 follows successful usurpation, but never offers a shield 
 to fallen dignity. 
 
 The King was reduced to entreat Henry that he 
 should not be conveyed through London. The rea- 
 sonable request was granted. When they reached 
 
108 HENRY OP LANCASTER. 
 
 the gates, lie was sent under a strong guard by way 
 of Westminster to the Tower. Lancaster, separating 
 from him, proceeded through the city in great state, 
 and, entering St. Paul's Cathedral, ascended the high 
 altar, and occupied himself in earnest prayer. 
 
 Having thus accomplished the bold design of 
 possessing control over the royal person, Lancaster 
 strengthened the defences of the metropolis, and or- 
 ganized a force of thirty thousand men for the pur- 
 pose. He next summoned such of his adherents as 
 were near at hand for a consultation ; called to his coun- 
 sels the powerful Percys; annulled the banishment 
 of Warwick; and ordered an immediate session of the 
 new Parliament. The result of his deliberations with 
 his friends is readily conjectured. The resolution, 
 which had probably been for some time fixed in his 
 mind, wa3 now openly announced. The climax to the 
 revolution must be a change of dynasty — the Lancas- 
 ters must be Kings of England. It was resolved, first, 
 that Kichard should be compelled to abdicate in favor 
 of Henry; second, that Parliament should be in- 
 duced to confirm Henry as King, as of the people's 
 choice. After much expostulation, threat, entreaty, 
 and insult, poor Kichard consented to sign away his 
 royalty, and to transfer his inheritance to his success- 
 ful and implacable enemy. Articles of abdication 
 were drawn up. By them -the King absolved his 
 subjects of their allegiance and devotion to him as 
 King of England. He renounced all royal power. 
 He declared himself incompetent to reign. He was 
 made to say that he had justly incurred the degrada- 
 tion which he now suffered, lie made an oath never 
 by act or word to revoke his present abdication. 
 Finally, lie announced Henry Duke of Lancaster his 
 
HENET OF LASTCASTEK. 109 
 
 successor, in token of which he bestowed upon him 
 the royal signet which he wore on his finger. 
 
 The Parliament which had been summoned came 
 up to Westminster thoroughly Lancastrian. They 
 were ready to act the will of the usurper, and to con- 
 firm the usurpation. Articles were framed by Hen- 
 ry's command containing a list of charges against 
 Richard. They declared him to be guilty of the con- 
 fiscation of Henry's property ; of the murder of Glou- 
 cester, and other princes and barons ; of tyranny to the 
 people ; of favoritism and neglect of duty ; — hardly 
 any misdemeanor of which a King could be guilty 
 was omitted. The populace of London were in a 
 constant ferment ; they loudly demanded the death 
 of Richard. They seized his faithful knights, tor- 
 tured them, and put them to death before his eyes. 
 These atrocities so alarmed Richard, that he sent to im- 
 plore Lancaster to protect him from his own people. 
 On the 20th of September, amid great excitement, 
 the Parliament convened in Westminster Hall. The 
 throne stood vacant ; a cloth of gold, with the lion 
 rampant and the fleurs-de-lis embroidered thereon, 
 covered the royal seat. Near the throne, a little be- 
 low it, Henry of Lancaster took his place. Parlia- 
 ment at once turned their attention to the great crisis 
 which was now upon them, in the presence of a multi- 
 tude of people, who crowded the corridors and ante- 
 chambers. ' 
 
 The King's abdication was first read ; after that 
 the coronation oath. The articles of impeachment 
 were produced, in proof that Richard had violated 
 the coronation oath. The subject was then open for 
 discussion. Only one voice was heard in opposition 
 to the general opinion. Thomas Merks, Bishop of 
 
110 HENRY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 Carlisle, dared to speak fearlessly and bitterly of the 
 usurpation. This bold prelate was instantly seized 
 and committed to the Tower. The vote being taken, 
 it was resolved without a negative that the throne 
 was vacant. Eight nobles rose, and proceeding to the 
 dais, declared Richard degraded from the dignity of 
 royalty. Then for the first time the Duke of Lancas- 
 ter stood up amid deep silence, the whole assembly 
 rising in deference to his authority. He solemnly 
 made the sign of the cross, and, after a moment of 
 deliberation, distinctly and calmly spoke : " In the 
 name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. I, Henry, 
 Duke of Lancaster, Duke of Hereford, and Earl of 
 Derby, do challenge this realm of England, on three 
 grounds. First, that I am descended by the right 
 line of blood from the good King Henry the Third, 
 inasmuch as my ancestor, Edmund, Duke of Lancas- 
 ter, was the eldest son, hence entitled to the throne. 
 Secondly, that I have conquered the realm, and that 
 by the will of the people thereof. Thirdly, that 
 Richard of Bordeaux hath freely resigned the crown 
 into my hands. I therefore conjure you, my lords, 
 knights, and gentlemen, to pronounce your opinion 
 and will upon this my claim." 
 
 The response was unanimously favorable to his 
 pretensions. The Primate advanced, and taking 
 Henry by the hand, brought him to the foot of the 
 throne. The Duke knelt a moment in prayer, arose, 
 and, placing Richard's signet upon his finger, seated 
 himself beneath the royal canopy. The throne was 
 so elevated that all could see him ; and when he did 
 this certain act of sovereignty, the applause was loud 
 and prolonged. Archbishop Arundel, as soon as order 
 was restored in the excited assemblage, harangued 
 
HENRY OP LANCASTER. Ill 
 
 them with a disquisition on the virtues of their new 
 ruler. Henry followed briefly and to the point : " Sirs, 
 I thank God, and you, and all the estates of the land. 
 I would have you think that I should disinherit no 
 man but for the good of this realm. I will try to 
 rule justly — as a father over children, rather than as 
 a king over subjects." 
 
 The Parliament was then dissolved. Its members 
 were summoned to a new Parliament in six days. 
 Henry named his officers of state, and received their 
 oaths of allegiance. The ceremonies at Westminster 
 being at an end, the new King, whilst heralds in 
 gorgeous array proclaimed Henry the Fourth from 
 every elevation, and the acclamations of the people re- 
 sounded along the narrow streets through the city, 
 went in royal state to the palace of his ancestors. As 
 the deserted and stricken Richard stood at his win- 
 dow in the Tower, he saw streams of soldiers and peo- 
 ple in vast confusion filling the streets beneath, and 
 the iron entered his heart as the cry, " Long live our 
 gracious King Henry ! " assailed his ears from every 
 quarter, and drove the last hope from his breast. 
 
 Thus the House of Lancaster was elevated to the 
 sovereignty of England, by the consent of the people 
 and of Parliament, peacefully, by a revolution as quiet 
 and bloodless as that which ushered in William of 
 Orange three centuries later. There can be no doubt 
 that the usurpation of Henry was pleasing to the na- 
 tion. The contrast between his character and that of 
 Eichard made him more beloved than he would other- 
 wise have been, and Eichard more hated. The 
 new monarch represented, too, an element theretofore 
 foreign — a popular choice. It was the first time that 
 Englishmen had had a voice in designating the pos- 
 
112 HENRY OF LANCASTER. 
 
 sessor of the crown. The hereditary succession was 
 interrupted by that new and startling power — pop- 
 ular election. It was the will of the people that 
 Richard should be deposed, that Lancaster should 
 reign. By their aid Henry made the bloodless con- 
 quest, and their representatives placed the crown upon 
 his head. Through the concurrence of both estates, 
 the popular estate and the baronial estate, Henry was 
 able to begin his reign without constitutional opposi- 
 tion, almost unchecked by a single dissenting voice. 
 
 We will now proceed to ascertain how the new 
 prince used this power, and in what manner he suc- 
 ceeded in establishing his descendants upon the throne. 
 We shall find the same ambitions, rivalries, jealousies, 
 heroisms, and treasons filling the record, that univer- 
 sally appeared to sway the fate of the nations in 
 the middle ages. We shall find the courageous and 
 moderate Bolingbroke subject to many of the tempta- 
 tions which beset royalty, and attacked by the fury 
 of feudal audacity as his predecessors had been. But, 
 if we mistake not, we shall see through this short and 
 pregnant reign, a spirit worthy of a descent from 
 Edward the Great, moving the destiny of England, 
 and sustaining the royal dignity with a constant vigor 
 and watchfulness such as is rare among those who are 
 born to reign. 
 
CHAPTER HI. 
 
 "O majesty I 
 When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
 Like a rich armor, worne in heat of day, 
 That scalds with safety." 
 
 THE REIGN OF KING HENRY THE FOURTH, SURNAMED BOLING- 
 
 BROKE. 
 
 This prince, who by so peaceful, and yet so com- 
 plete a revolution, had placed the crown upon his own 
 head, was no ordinary man. The most salient features 
 of his character are not to be inferred from those 
 qualities which are usually most conspicuous in those 
 who have successfully usurped and revolutionized 
 kingdoms. In some respects he was ill-fitted to be the 
 leader of an insurrection ; but where he was wanting, 
 circumstances rendered the deficiency no obstacle to 
 his triumph. In other respects he was far more capa- 
 ble than the leaders of popular disquiet are apt to be ; 
 for, as he afterward proved, he knew the wisdom of 
 moderation, he forgot to revenge personal enmities 
 when his enemies became his subjects, and, it seems, 
 he had learned the art of governing well. He was 
 far superior to most princes of that age, both in cul 
 ture of mind, and in habits of thought and study. 
 His nature was a contemplative one ; it was also a re 
 ligious one. From early boyhood he had been pre 
 cocious as a student both of languages and of theol 
 
 8 
 
114 KINO HENBY THE FOURTH. 
 
 ogy. But, while he was engaging himself in pursuits 
 so well fitted to refine his intellect, he was constantly 
 mingling in the vivid activity of the royal court, lis- 
 tening to the debates of the King's councillors, drink- 
 ing in from his father's lips the narratives of heroic 
 valor and the achievements of armies, taking a hearty 
 share in the varied festivities and the stately pageants 
 of the palace, and partaking with intense interest in 
 those exercises which strengthened his sinews, and 
 prepared him to imitate, in due time, the ambitious 
 designs for which his ancestors had so long been 
 famous. He was thus, in his youth, both quiet 
 and active. He sought to take advantage of each 
 opportunity which his high position opened to 
 him. Always temperate and abstemious, he yet joined 
 in the gay excitements which surrounded him ; and 
 while he refused to give way to excess, enlivened by 
 his cheerful disposition, and gave a higher tone to the 
 conversation by the elegant learning of which he had 
 become possessed. Pie had in no common degree that 
 facility of temperament by which he could turn with 
 ease from the grave topics of sober contemplation, to 
 the world which bustled so gayly and so boisterously 
 around him, taking part in each with equal zest. 
 
 When he grew to manhood, he was at once one of 
 the most popular and one of the most highly respect- 
 ed of the nobility. John of Gaunt frequently took 
 him into his counsel, and learned to pay that defer- 
 ence to his son's suggestions which would have honored 
 older men. The aim of Henry continued, to improve 
 himself in every direction. lie observed with a criti- 
 cal eye the events which were being enacted before 
 him. lie read carefully both the history and the 
 traditions of England. He weighed the characters 
 
KING HENKY THE EOUETH. 115 
 
 of men in Ms mind. He sought the companionship 
 of priests and the learned men who resorted to the 
 court. He watched the effect of the measures which 
 the King adopted. He made himself familiar with 
 the system of the papal hierarchy, and understood 
 the controversy which had sprung up with the here- 
 sies of Wickliffe, and which afterwards convulsed Eng- 
 land under his own reign. His manners, when a 
 young man, are described by contemporary writers 
 as having been singularly attractive ; his smile enticed 
 the love of all who approached him; his voice was 
 , calm and melodious ; his bearing full at once of dig- 
 nity and graciousness ; yet he had a spirit by no means 
 slow to insult. He resented affronts with a prompt- 
 ness which surprised those who had only seen the 
 bland side of his character. ISTo man was prouder 
 than he of descent from heroes and kings; none were 
 more punctilious in the preservation, by deference, of 
 the princely dignity. He seems to have thought that 
 probity and learning were the proper qualities which 
 should illustrate the true rank of royalty, and to have 
 felt that something further than hereditary prestige 
 was necessary to engage the obeisance of the people. 
 His thirst after knowledge, especially that knowl- 
 edge of men in which he seems to have been unusually 
 proficient, prompted him, while yet young, to make 
 several tours in foreign lands. In 1390, when he was 
 but twenty-four, he led " a noble band of soldiers " to 
 Prussia, where he mingled in the war then proceeding 
 between the German Christians and the infidels. Two 
 years after, he again went to the same country with 
 three hundred men, and after some time spent in mar- 
 tial activity, made a journey to Venice. From the 
 island city he repaired on a solemn pilgrimage to 
 
IK') KINO IIEN1IY THE FOUETH. 
 
 Jerusalem, and spent an entire year in religious con- 
 templation in the Holy Land. Thence he went to 
 Cyprus, Pavia, back to Milan. 
 
 The Duke of Milan was a warm friend of the royal 
 family of England, and was so estimable a sovereign 
 that his subjects named him the " Comes Virtutum." 
 He received Henry with regal ostentation, gave him 
 a series of entertainments, and lodged him in the 
 palace. In company with his host, Henry visited the 
 church of St. Augustine, at Pavia, where reposed the 
 remains of St. Augustine, of the philosopher Boethius, 
 and of that noble young Lionel of Clarence, who had 
 died so far away from home, in the midst of the felicity 
 of his honeymoon. Parting from the excellent Duke, 
 Henry proceeded through Bohemia, Germany, and 
 France, back to his own country. During this tour 
 he doubtless had ample opportunity to indulge in his 
 favorite studies. He is said to have been especially 
 attentive to observe the different systems of govern- 
 ment, the manners of the people, and the foundations 
 of papal power in the Christian temporalities. He 
 must have devoted himself with zest to the study of 
 theology while residing in the Holy Land ; certain it 
 is, that he became thoroughly confirmed as a champion 
 of Catholicism, and deeply imbued with the neces- 
 sity of maintaining the supremacy of the Church. 
 In this regard he differed with his father, John of 
 Gaunt, whose distrust of Popery, and favorable in- 
 clinations toward Wickliffism, gave the heresy much 
 encouragement. Henry was probably sagacious 
 enough to see that, in the precarious times in •which 
 he lived, royalty could not resist both internal fac- 
 tion and the, enmity of the Pope, and that a necessary 
 method by which to overcome the former was by a 
 
KING- HENRY THE FOURTH. 117 
 
 close alliance with the latter. The double motive of 
 sincere conviction and the preservation of the integ- 
 rity of the crown, seems to have actuated him to 
 espouse the cause of the priesthood in England. 
 
 Having gone to the Continent as a soldier, he had 
 remained there as a student. He returned home to 
 commence his career as a statesman. While John of 
 Gaunt was absent on his expedition against Castile, 
 Henry took his place at Richard's council, had charge 
 of the estates of Lancaster and Hereford, and was one 
 of the King's most prudent and able advisers. This 
 variety of his occupations gave him a great advan- 
 tage over his colleagues at court. It is probable 
 that he was implicated in some of those unsuc- 
 cessful plots, which at different times threatened 
 Eichard's throne. There was but little cordial feeling 
 between the cousins. Henry regarded with contempt 
 the effeminacy and extravagance of the King, and 
 Richard was both fearful and jealous of the vigorous 
 character of Henry. "We are governed by gour- 
 mands," said Henry. " I must prune this overgrown 
 limb of royalty," said the King. The courteous and 
 graceful manners of Henry compelled the good-will 
 of the nobility ; they could not be jealous of one who 
 was always a gentleman. By the populace, as we 
 have seen, he was devotedly admired. As a soldier, 
 although he executed no deed of brilliant renown, he 
 was brave, persevering, and moderate. He was want- 
 ing in the marked genius which had distinguished 
 the conduct of the two Edwards at Poictiers and 
 Crecy, and which afterwards, in a yet higher degree, 
 shed lustre on the royal line at Agincourt. Henry's 
 characteristic was to be excellent in most things, but 
 conspicuously great in none. He had a kingly na- 
 
118 KING HENKY THE FOURTH. 
 
 ture, ii loftiness of soul, which was and is yet rare 
 among crowned heads. His greatest fault was his 
 bigoted and extreme devotion to the hierarchy ; what 
 tyranny he exercised was religious. 
 
 His portrait, as it has been preserved to us from 
 old prints, which the coins of his time furnished with 
 the features, represents a sober, contemplative face, 
 with melancholy eyes, a broad forehead, and square 
 head; yet having an expression of latent fire and 
 courage, and. full of lofty dignity. It bears out the 
 character which we would deduce from the descrip- 
 tions which the old writers have left. The counte- 
 nance is a positive one ; there is no doubt left on the 
 mind, that such a face was the index of rare ability 
 and power. The character we have presented does 
 not justify the conclusion, that Bolingbroke was a 
 restless and over-ambitious conspirator, or that he 
 sought for merely personal ends to overthrow the 
 King. He doubtless had the ambition to govern, but 
 not to that immoderate degree to which, did we not 
 know more of him both from his previous and subse- 
 quent actions, he might be supposed to be subject. 
 It takes away very much from the stigma of usurpa- 
 tion, that in depriving the legitimate possessor of his 
 crown he rendered a service to his countrymen, that 
 he replaced an impotent reign by a vigorous reign, 
 and that in his favor was elicited for the first time in 
 English history that remarkable act, a popular ap- 
 pointment to an hereditary office. A quaint old 
 writer, who himself saw Henry both as subject and 
 as sovereign, says of him, in estimating his character: 
 "lie observed the ways of justice; he honored the 
 servants of Clod ; lie studied the Bible; he had a very 
 tenacious memory; lie was a studious investigator of 
 
KING HENEY THE EOUETH. 119 
 
 morals; lie was an eager student of government." 
 Having thus introduced the new King to the knowl- 
 edge of the reader, we proceed to recount what occur- 
 red during his brief reign. 
 
 Henry of Lancaster, at thirty-three, found himself 
 a successful usurper to the throne. His predecessor 
 was a despised prisoner in the Tower ; the kingdom 
 was in peace; opposition was totally crushed; the 
 Parliament was not only acquiescent, "but enthusiastic 
 in support of the new dynasty; the great barons 
 cheerfully swore allegiance, and took their places at 
 the head of the armies, and around the council board ; 
 and the prelates hastened to prop up a prince, who 
 had evinced a bigoted devotion to the splendid and 
 corrupt hierarchy of Rome. The first step taken was 
 to dissolve the Parliament, and to summon a new leg- 
 islature. The next was to prepare for the coronation, 
 at that day an impressive and important ceremony, by 
 the superior magnificence of which Henry thought to 
 elicit the admiration and reverence of his people. 
 
 The day designated was Monday the thirteenth of 
 October, celebrated as the festival of St. Edward the 
 Confessor and King. On the Saturday previous, 
 Henry, having now assumed all the state of majesty, 
 proceeded to the Tower, which was then used for the 
 double purpose of a palace and a prison. He was 
 attended by those of his late confederates for whom 
 he designed the honor of knighthood, in recognition 
 of their part in the revolution. On his arrival at 
 the Tower, as was the custom, the King and his attend- 
 ants retired to their chambers and bathed. The next 
 morning, which was Sunday, the ceremony of confer- 
 ring the order of knighthood took place in the hall, 
 the candidates being habited in long green coats 
 
120 KINO HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 lined with minever (a kind of ermine such as the 
 bishops wore), and having upon their left shoulders 
 a double cord of white silk with pendent tufts. 
 
 After a sumptuous feast in the hall of the Tower, 
 Henry returned in state through Cheapside, the 
 Strand, and Whitehall, to the palace of West- 
 minster. The procession on this occasion is de- 
 scribed as having been most brilliant and ostenta- 
 tious. Henry himself rode on a white charger, 
 bareheaded ; around his neck glittered the jewelled 
 order of the King of France ; his broad body was en- 
 veloped in a German jacket, whose texture was the 
 finest cloth of gold ; and upon his left leg was to be 
 seen the blue garter, symbol of supreme knightly dig- 
 nity. Upwards of six thousand horse escorted him — 
 among them the highest baronial, civil, and military 
 dignitaries of the realm. The young Prince of Wales, 
 then but nine years of age, was conspicuous near his 
 father, with his bright visage and careless bearing; 
 the haughty Northumberland and the brave West- 
 moreland rode beside the sovereign, who might be 
 said to have received the crown from their hands ; the 
 nobility were represented in goodly numbers — hardly 
 any great baronial name but was borne by some one 
 in that gorgeous throng ; and last of all followed, in 
 all the consequential pride of civic dignity, the corpo- 
 ration of the capital, and the companies of London, 
 led by their wardens, wearing their curious liveries, 
 and displaying the ensigns of their respective trades. 
 The streets through which this pageant passed were 
 decorated with taste and care by the enthusiastic 
 populace. Mottoes and expressions of welcome faced 
 Henry at every turning in bewildering numbers. Ta- 
 pestries hung in festoons from house to house, repre- 
 
KING HENEY THE FOURTH. 121 
 
 senting the life and triumphs of the new King. In 
 Cheapside nine fountains were set up, whence gushed, 
 in circling and splashing streams, unlimited wine of 
 varied hues. The people gathered in the streets and 
 on the housetops, and greeted with loud acclamations 
 the appearance of their favorite and master; while 
 he, riding slowly and complacently along, returned 
 their salutations with a quiet suavity which was long 
 remembered by those who saw him. The usual oc- 
 cupation of the bath followed upon the arrival at 
 Westminster; then the King, after public prayer, 
 retired. 
 
 The morning of the coronation day came, and 
 Henry, as soon as he was dressed, called his confessor, 
 and confessed himself. Thence he proceeded with 
 his household to the chapel, where his soul sought 
 further purity by the ceremony of three masses. The 
 bishops, attended by many priests, assembled at the 
 Abbey, and went thence in procession to the palace. 
 The return to the Abbey was made by the church 
 dignitaries going first, and the King and nobility fol- 
 lowing them. The King, adorned with the royal 
 robes, went on foot ; above him was borne a canopy 
 of blue silk mounted on silver staves, to which were 
 attached four ringing bells of gold, and supported by 
 four burgesses of Dover, as was their ancient privilege. 
 The dukes, earls, and barons wore scarlet robes reach- 
 ing to the ground, mantles of rich ermine, and cor- 
 onets of gold surmounted by hoods of ermine. On 
 the King's right hand walked Henry, Prince of Wales, 
 bearing the sword of mercy ; on his left Northumber- 
 land, who had been created constable, bearing the 
 sword of justice. Westmoreland, as Earl Marshal, 
 bore the sceptre before the King. The scene within 
 
122 KINO HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 the Abbey, as the procession entered, must have been 
 superb. In the centre of the spacious nave was 
 erected a high dais, covered by a crimson cloth, and 
 thereon the ancient throng adorned with cloth of 
 gold, worked with the heraldic symbols of English 
 royalty; and over the throne hung a rich canopy. 
 The interior was crowded with the nobility and best 
 gentry of the land ; and the fair sex, arrayed in gaudy 
 ostentation, attended to lend graceful presence to the 
 scene. The King proceeded to the throne and took 
 his place thereon, arrayed in the royal robes, but 
 having as yet no crown upon his head. Arundel, the 
 primate, ascended the dais, and addressed the multi- 
 tude. " God hath given us this man," said he, " to be 
 our lord and sovereign. Is it your will that he 
 should be consecrated and crowned King of Eng- 
 land ? " The assent was boisterous and unanimous ; 
 loud praises were mingled with the harmony of the 
 single "ay;" hands were uplifted as if to swear al- 
 legiance. Henry then came down from the dais. 
 
 The Archbishops of Canterbury and York, assisted 
 by the prelates, stood at the altar, whither the King 
 advanced. With the solemn Latin service the pri- 
 mate administered the rite of consecration ; the King 
 was consecrated on the head, the breast, the shoul- 
 ders, the back, and the hands. Thus he became holy 
 in the eyes of that superstitious age. As the head of 
 the English Church he Avas then enrobed as a bishop, 
 having a hood on his head, and shoes of crimson velvet 
 upon his feet. Spurs, to indicate the church militant, 
 were clasped about his ankles. The sword of justice 
 was drawn, and having been blessed by the primate, 
 was placed in the royal hand ; Henry replaced it in the 
 scabbard, and the primate- girded it, thus sheathed, 
 
KING HENRY THE FOTJKTH. 128 
 
 about his waist. The hood was displaced to make way 
 for the crown of St. Edward the Confessor, which was 
 "blessed "by the primate, and put upon the royal head. 
 This was the consummation of the ceremony which 
 invested Henry completely with the sovereignty. 
 
 Then followed the feastings and revellings which 
 formed such a contrast to the preceding solemni- 
 ties, and which gave a vent to the jubilant feelings 
 of the courtiers. The courtyards of the palace 
 were ornamented with unique fountains; and from 
 the mouths of lions, the tridents of Neptune, and 
 the petals of marble flowers gushed wines, whence 
 all might drink in common. Within the vast 
 hall were spread five long tables, laden with the 
 richest viands which the European markets could 
 supply. At the head of the first sat the new 
 monarch on a throne ; by his side stood the Prince 
 of Wales, to serve his royal father ; and below Henry 
 the archbishops and bishops were arranged in order 
 of dignity, while at the foot of the table was the 
 Earl of Westmoreland. At the second table were 
 the five great lords of England ; at the third the 
 Lord Mayor and civic dignitaries of the metropolis ; 
 at the fourth the newly dubbed knights ; at the fifth 
 the rest of the company, below the order of nobility. 
 
 As the feast was proceeding merrily, a loud knock 
 was heard upon the oaken doors. A knight of re- 
 nown advanced into the hall, full-armed, upon a steed 
 nobly barbed with crimson panoply. Another 
 knight went before him, holding his lance, while 
 Dymock himself held his drawn sword in his hand, 
 and a naked dagger glistened at his girdle. Ad- 
 vancing to Henry, he kneeled and presented Tirm a 
 paper. In it was announced that " if any knight or 
 
124 KING HENRY THE F0UETH. 
 
 gentleman should dare maintain that King Henry 
 was not a lawful sovereign, he (Dymock) would offer 
 him combat in presence of the King, when and 
 where his Majesty should be pleased to appoint." 
 This challenge the King ordered to be proclaimed by 
 his heralds in every part of London ; and, as may be 
 readily imagined, none stood forward to oppose him- 
 self to successful usurpation. Thus closed the memo- 
 rable day on which was confirmed in royal state the 
 first English King of the people's choice. 
 
 The Parliament which had already confirmed Hen- 
 ry's occupation of the throne, now, at his request, de- 
 clared his eldest son, Henry, to be the heir apparent to 
 the monarchy ; and at the same time the young prince 
 was created Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall and 
 Aquitaine, and Earl of Chester. The attainders 
 which Richard had instigated against the Earls of 
 Warwick and Arundel were cancelled, and those 
 peers, ardent partisans of Bolingbroke, recalled from 
 exile. The crime of treason was defined to be re- 
 stricted to the description in the law of Edward the 
 Third. In all their acts the members of the Parlia- 
 ment showed themselves to be wholly in the interest 
 of the new King; who, when he had obtained from 
 them what measures he pleased, dissolved them. 
 
 Before, however, Parliament rose, several matters 
 of the first importance relative to the security of 
 Henry's throne were disposed of. Lords Rutland, 
 Kent, Huntingdon, Somerset, and Despencer, who had 
 received from King Richard higher titles in the peer- 
 age, were arraigned on the charge of murdering the 
 Duke of Gloucester, uncle to both the late and the 
 present monarch. This gave rise to a fierce and long 
 continued discussion in the. House of Lords; chal- 
 
KING HENRY THE EOUKTH. 125 
 
 lenges passed to and fro, bitter denunciations and 
 insults were repeated day after day ; and had it not 
 been for the moderation and wise temper of the King, 
 personal violence would have ensued. So compli- 
 cated and changeable had been the politics of the 
 different lords, that it only needed an occasion to 
 revive old insults and long cherished enmities. The 
 issue was, that the mildest punishment which royal 
 generosity could exercise, was visited upon the ar- 
 raigned nobles. They were merely deprived of the 
 higher titles with which they had been adorned by 
 Eichard. 
 
 Soon after, the Earl of Northumberland came to 
 the House of Peers with a message from the King, 
 which, he said, must be considered in the most secret 
 manner. The King sought the advice of his lords as 
 to what disposition should be made of the abdicated 
 King Richard, who was then confined in the Tower. 
 At the same time Henry expressed his solicitude to 
 protect his cousin from personal harm, which was 
 probably sincere, as it was in harmony with his 
 humane and cautious character. After a debate in 
 secret conclave, the peers united in the opinion that 
 the ex-King should be conveyed privately and quietly 
 to some retired castle, and separated from all who 
 had shown themselves to be attached to him. The 
 King then came down to the House and declared 
 Eichard a state-prisoner for life, in open session. 
 The ex-King was removed first to Leeds Castle, and 
 finally to Pontefract Castle, where in the sequel he de- 
 parted this life. 
 
 Although the power of the usurping monarch 
 seemed to be now completely established ; although 
 the evidence of his popularity was overwhelming; 
 
126 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 although he had an obsequious Parliament, a devoted 
 court, a settled domain, peace among his counsellors ; 
 his own example of insubordination was too recent 
 and too successful, not to stimulate the ambition of 
 powerful lords, and to stir up dissension in his king- 
 dom. There were two sources whence he had reason 
 to fear an attempt against his power : one from power- 
 ful enemies, and one from powerful friends. It was 
 nothing more than one who had usurped regal au- 
 thority had to expect, that he should be forced to 
 encounter constant rebellion and resistance. It was 
 the fruit which he had sown, and which he must reap. 
 The six lords whom we have mentioned as having 
 received so light a punishment for their more than 
 doubtful complicity in the death of the royal Duke 
 of Gloucester, were jealous and turbulent men, whose 
 restless natures could not nourish under a quiet reign. 
 They had been the guilty tools of Richard in his least 
 pardonable crimes. They were not grateful to Henry 
 because he refrained from taking their heads, when 
 they thoroughly deserved it. Their only hope of re- 
 gaining their former importance in the councils of the 
 realm was to overturn Heniy, and to restore Richard. 
 Soon after the close of the Parliamentary session, they 
 met secretly at Westminster, and formed a plot of as- 
 sassination. Arrangements were made for assembling 
 a force of their retainers sufficient for the purpose ; 
 the details were agreed upon ; a certain part in the 
 bloody drama was assigned to and assumed by each. 
 It was determined that the King shoidd be enticed 
 out of the metropolis, on an occasion when he could 
 be surrounded by the agents of the assassins, and 
 despatched without ceremony. The King, with the 
 Prince of Wales, was invited to preside over a tour- 
 
KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 127 
 
 ney at Oxford, which, he was assured, would be un- 
 usually "brilliant. The . insidious tongue of the Earl 
 of Huntingdon, Henry's own brother-in-law, conveyed 
 the treacherous request. Henry, suspecting nothing 
 villanous from such a source, promised to attend the 
 pageant. A band of ruffians was selected to rush 
 upon the royal pavilion, and strike down both the 
 person of majesty and the heir to the throne. Then 
 one of the conspirators was to proclaim the restoration 
 of Richard, 
 
 When the day arrived that had been selected on 
 which to commit the regicide, the plans of the conspir- 
 ators were complete. {No obstacle seemed to inter- 
 vene, or to promise prevention of the villanous design. 
 King Henry had retired from London to his favorite 
 castle of Windsor, and was to proceed thence to Ox- 
 ford on the morning of the tournament. But the near 
 approach of the catastrophe startled one of the con- 
 federates, whose principle of honor (or of fear) was 
 not wholly dead within him. He determined to dis- 
 cover . the whole scheme to the King. The Earl of 
 Rutland, son of the Duke of York, and cousin to the 
 King, was a young man of craven disposition, of bad 
 heart, easily led by others, and by no means a model 
 conspirator. He inherited from his father a dislike to 
 turmoil, while yet his facility of temper and malignity 
 made him the ready dupe of those who were about 
 him. When the conspiracy was just ripe, this prince 
 hastened to Henry at Windsor, made known to him 
 his danger, and urged him to retire at once to London. 
 Meanwhile the day of the tournament wore wearily 
 away to the confederates at Oxford, in momentary 
 expectation of their royal victim, yet ever mistrustful 
 that some treason to their purpose had prevented his 
 
128 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 arrival. The approach of evening made it no longer pos- 
 sible for them to contain their impatience. They were 
 riot men to shrink, now that danger was fully upon 
 them. Gathering together a force of five hundred fol- 
 lowers, they hurried with all speed to Windsor. They 
 hoped to find Henry there and but feebly defended, and 
 to assassinate him with little difficulty. But on their 
 arrival they discovered, to their utter discomfiture, that 
 the royal bird had flown on the evening previous. 
 
 Nothing was left to them but to make best their 
 escape, the possibility of which had now become 
 doubtful. The next day Henry was close upon 
 their heels with a powerful - army. The conspira- 
 tors, still clinging to the ghost of a hope, resolved 
 to attempt to rouse the country, and separated, each 
 toward his own section, to summon their retain- 
 ers; Huntingdon to Essex, Kent and Salisbury to 
 Cirencester, Despencer and Lumley to Bristol. But 
 Henry's loyal subjects not only refused to come beneath 
 the insurgent standard, but took revenge out of the 
 hand of the law, and themselves punished the traitors. 
 Huntingdon, albeit the brother-in-law of the King, was 
 dragged by the populace from the marshes where he 
 had tried to conceal himself, and was tortured and put 
 to death by the rude yeomanry before the castle of 
 Pleshy. The mayor and corporation of Cirencester, 
 at the head of the citizens, environed Kent and Salis- 
 bury, and having taken them, ordered the penalty of 
 instant death. The citizens of Bristol treated in like 
 manner the two lords Avho had sought refuge there. 
 The same summary justice was visited upon other 
 conspirators in different parts of the kingdom; till 
 the lawlessness of loyalty became so prevalent, that 
 Henry, always moderate in retaliation, and never bit- 
 
KING- HEKRY THE FOURTH. 129 
 
 ter in his enmities, was constrained to command Ms 
 people to desist the carnage, on pain of death. 
 
 Henry was now convinced that there would be no 
 long-continued peace to his crown while Richard lived. 
 This conspiracy, so formidable, and planned with so 
 much ingenuity, was indeed defeated ; but it was a 
 warning. Its greatest strength had been, that the 
 traitors could use as their rallying cry the name of a 
 living and legitimate monarch. There would obvi- 
 ously be no possibility of quenching discontent ; the 
 only remedy was to make discontent powerless, by 
 depriving it of its most dangerous weapon. It was 
 plain that Richard must disappear. Here occurs the 
 great stain which sullied more than any other the 
 name of Henry of Bolingbroke. A few weeks passed, 
 and it was announced that Richard was dead. The 
 court said that he died by self-inflicted starvation. 
 More lately, the writers inimical to the House of Lan- 
 caster have declared that the friendless monarch was 
 starved by order of the King. Narratives more rea- 
 sonably verified, and on which Shakespeare at least 
 relied, relate that he was assassinated by Sir Robert 
 Exton, in his cell at Pontefract Castle. Richard's 
 death occurred on the 13th of February, 1400, at the 
 early age of thirty-four. His corpse was brought in 
 state to London, and his face exposed to the gaze of 
 the populace in St. Paul's, for the space of three days. 
 Thus Henry sought to persuade his subjects that the 
 fealty due to Richard had ceased, since he was dead. 
 This event seems to have elicited but little comment. 
 Richard had become so thoroughly contemptible, that 
 none regretted his death, excepting those who lost the 
 excuse which his name gave for insurrection. 
 
 Henry was forced to turn at once to his foreign 
 9 
 
130 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 relations, when domestic tranquillity had been re- 
 stored by the removal of the instrument of its dis- 
 turbance. Isabella of France, the young bride of the 
 late King Richard, was in England at the time of her 
 husband's death. Her father, Charles the Sixth of 
 France, when he heard of the deposition, and then 
 of the death of Richard, was so much alarmed for the 
 safety of his daughter, that a paroxysm of insanity 
 took him with unusual force. He had been much 
 subject to such attacks ; so much so, that his realm 
 was governed in fact by his two ambitious and in- 
 imical uncles, the Dukes of Burgundy and Orleans. 
 These princes, of whom Burgundy was at that time 
 the most powerful, though the less popular, were very 
 indignant at the usurpation of Henry, and seized what 
 they regarded as a promising occasion to attack the 
 English possession of Guienne, on the French coast. 
 
 They counted, with little judgment, on the co- 
 operation of Bordeaux, the principal city, because 
 there Richard had been born, and his memory was 
 highly regarded by the Bordelais. Two forces, under 
 Burgundy and the chivalrous young Bourbon, ad- 
 vanced upon the English province. When, however, 
 they came to Bordeaux, they found that city unwilling 
 to transfer its allegiance. The Bordelais were shrewd 
 enough to perceive that under a kingdom so distracted 
 as was that of France — torn by jealousies, weakened 
 by an insane head, the shuttlecock of contending 
 vassals — their taxes would be high, the draughts 
 upon their population large, and the protection 
 afforded them poor indeed ; whereas, under the 
 prosperous reign of a capable foreign King, they 
 would abide in peace, their property would be 
 secure, and their burdens light. So that Burgundy 
 
KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 131 
 
 and Bourbon retired from a fruitless and mortifying 
 failure. Henry the Fourth was little inclined just 
 now to engage in war with his neighbor. On the 
 contrary, he sought, by every means, to pacify the 
 turbulent nobles who governed France. He sent an 
 embassy to solicit a recognition of his sovereignty. 
 He received with marked cordiality the envoys who 
 came from the French King to ask that Isabella 
 might return to the parental palaces. He urged the 
 propriety of a marriage between the child-queen and 
 his young heir, which Charles was so foolish as to 
 decline. Cheerfully overlooking the slight, Henry 
 permitted the princess to depart with her jewels, 
 withholding, as necessary to himself, only the dower 
 which she had brought to Richard's coffers. 
 
 Hardly had his difficulties with France ended, be- 
 fore he determined to cultivate the martial spirit of his 
 people by attempting that ancient ambition of English 
 monarchs, the subjugation of the contiguous realm of 
 Scotland. There was so little concord in the govern- 
 ment of that country, that the occasion seemed to 
 offer a favorable prospect of success. King Eobert 
 was in the dotage of extreme old age. Prince David, 
 the heir apparent, was dissipated, reckless, and took 
 no interest in the political events of the court. The 
 Duke of Albany, younger brother of the King, was 
 organizing a party in his own interest among the 
 nobles,: and raised his audacious hopes to the throne 
 itself. The military organization of Scotland was in 
 a pitiful state of inefficiency. Henry, having derived 
 a new supply from the taxation of clerical incomes, 
 now raised an army by summoning the vassals of the 
 crown to his standard. He called upon King Eobert 
 and the Scottish nobility to convene at Edinburgh, 
 
1-J2 KING nENEY THE FOURTH. 
 
 and do homage as vassals of England. The Scottish 
 heir apparent, for the first time in his life, exhibited 
 a rare courage and ability. He fortified the castle of 
 Edinburgh, and took such measures as to render the 
 project of the King of England hopeless. Henry, after 
 an unsuccessful and inglorious campaign, retired to 
 his own dominions. The humanity with which, not- 
 withstanding his discomfiture, he protected the lives 
 and property of the population on his line of retreat, 
 from the outrages which his soldiers were tempted to 
 commit, are celebrated with great praise by the his- 
 torians of the age. 
 
 The rise of the discontents in Wales, immediate- 
 ly after his return from Scotland, bereft Henry of 
 that rest which he would willingly have sought. 
 Owen Glendower, an active and popular chieftain, 
 had arisen, bid defiance to the English crown, and 
 had put himself at the head of a great multitude of 
 his countrymen.* King Henry promptly marched 
 his army westward, and engaged in a fruitless 
 warfare with the wily and active rebel The 
 campaign here, as in Scotland, proved a most dis- 
 couraging one. No other result came of it than 
 long marches, sickness, and discontent among the 
 troops. Glendower would make a hasty incursion 
 into the Engbsh counties; then retiring to the fast- 
 nesses of his own bleak hills, would defy his enemy 
 to follow. Three times Henry in person made the 
 attempt to subdue this audacious chief; each time he 
 was fain to withdraw to his capital 'without having 
 accomplished his object. 
 
 A new source of trouble arose whilst he was on his 
 
 * A more particular account of (iloniimver't* rebellion uill bo found in 
 Cliaptor IV., where i'liuoo Henry's gharo in these events is narrated. 
 
KING HENKY THE FOURTH. 133 
 
 last expedition to Wales. A report had been circulated 
 that Eichard was still alive. Sir Eoger Clarendon, a 
 natural son of the Black Prince, had declared that he 
 had seen the King in person. The Scots made this a 
 pretext for ravaging the northern counties of England. 
 They were led by Hepburn, of Hales, a bold but im- 
 prudent chief. The Scotch Earl of March, who had 
 quarrelled with the court,* now joined the Percys of 
 Northumberland to repel this invasion. He encounter- 
 ed Hepburn at Nesbit, and totally routed him, captur- 
 ing nearly his whole force. Douglas now appeared 
 as the champion of Scotland. With an army of ten 
 thousand Scotchmen, that indomitable warrior came 
 thundering over the border, and spread ruin far and 
 wide along the banks of the Tyne. He advanced 
 upon the English territory with a reckless courage 
 all his own. Bent on the destruction of March, 
 whom he regarded as a traitor, he gave full license to 
 his soldiers, and preserved but little order in the 
 ranks. 
 
 He proceeded in an ill regulated march almost as far 
 south as Newcastle, whence, having satiated the troops 
 with plunder and malicious destruction, he leisurely 
 retraced his steps toward Scotland. But he was soon 
 brought to his wits in a startling manner. The Earl 
 of Northumberland, Lord Percy, and the Earl of 
 March had planted themselves quietly in his rear, 
 with a large and disciplined force. He found himself 
 intercepted; he must fight through the opposing 
 column, or surrender his whole army. The English 
 were found to be drawn up on an elevation near 
 Milfield, not far from the Scottish border. Douglas 
 
 * March was disgusted with the Scotch court, because Prince David, the 
 heir apparent, had been betrothed to his daughter, and had broken his plight. 
 
l-'U KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 promptly seized and posted himself upon a neighbor- 
 ing elevation, called Homildon Hill, and awaited the 
 attack. Harry Percy, in his impatience, would have 
 charged up Homildon with Lis horsemen ; but March 
 told him to order the archers forward alone. This 
 splendid corps descended slowly to the valley, and 
 thence directed their shafts, with fatal precision, at 
 the Scottish line above. The Scotch remained for a 
 while immovable ; at every volley from below large 
 numbers fell ; still no Englishman was yet hurt. At 
 last, Douglas, drawing up proudly, turned to his sol- 
 diers and addressed them : " Oh, my brave fellow 
 soldiers, what fascinates you to-day, that you stand 
 like deer and fawns in a park to be shot, instead of 
 showing your ancient valor, and meeting your foes 
 hand to hand ? Let those who will, descend with me, 
 and in the name of the Lord we will break that host 
 and conquer, or if not, at least die with honor like 
 soldiers ! " Then setting the bold example, Douglas 
 dashed hotly down the hill, and with great shouts his 
 faithful soldiers followed. The archers slowly yield- 
 ed to the assault, always shooting, however, as they 
 retired. As the Scottish chief at the head of his 
 bands approached, a volley, sharp and simultaneous, 
 came from the English bows, which brought Douglas 
 himself to the ground with five wounds, and deprived 
 him of an eye ; while other brave knights fell on every 
 hand around him. The Scotch were thoroughly dis- 
 heartened when they saw their brave general van- 
 quished, and fled back into the Tweed, where many, 
 in the hurry and confusion, were drowned. Douglas, 
 Murdac (nephew of the King), the Earls of Moray 
 and Angus, with many others of less note, were taken 
 prisoners by the victorious Percys; eight hundred 
 
KING IIEJSTEY THE FOURTH. 135 
 
 Scotchmen lay dead upon the hill-side; and the 
 "border Avarfare was once more decided, for a time, 
 in favor of the southern kingdom. This battle, called 
 the battle of Homildon Hill, was fought on the feast 
 of Holyrood, September 14th, 1402. If Henry re- 
 turned disappointed from his expedition against Wales, 
 he had the satisfaction to learn of the defeat of ene- 
 mies equally troublesome and far more hated. He 
 sent orders to the Percys not to ransom the illustrious 
 captives, but to await his further commands. Northum- 
 berland was very indignant at this, since the ransoms 
 were in that age considered as just spoils of the vic- 
 tors. The proud Earl came sullenly to London with 
 Murdac and several other prisoners, and brought them 
 to the King at the palace of Westminster. Sir Adam 
 Foster, one of the Scotch, kneeled at the foot of the 
 throne and besought the royal leniency for himself 
 and his companions. Henry received the obsequious 
 knight coldly and haughtily; but turning and ad- 
 dressing Murdac, he said : " Bear thy captivity with 
 patience, knight; thou hast fallen into my hands, 
 fighting like a brave knight in battle." Then with 
 the stately courtesy characteristic of him, he enter- 
 tained his noble prisoners at his own table. 
 
 The course which Henry adopted in refusing to 
 allow the ransom of Percy's prisoners was the first 
 cause of irritation between him and his proud vassal. 
 Other causes adding their weight to the discontent, 
 the breach grew to hatred, and in the end a formi- 
 dable and dangerous rebellion resulted from the pride 
 and anger which had been excited. Henry's path, 
 much as he desired it, was not destined to be a peace- 
 ful one. One distraction followed so closely on anoth- 
 er, that the most vigorous efforts were necessary to- 
 
13G 
 
 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 avert the destruction which a combination of difficul- 
 ties might effect. His safety was due to the wise sa- 
 gacity and well-governed temper which marked every 
 act of his regal career ; and it would be a violence to 
 our nature not to admire the ability with which he 
 averted every calamity which threatened his crown, 
 and handed it, with undiminished integrity, down to 
 his successor. 
 
 A truce had been concluded with France ; yet the 
 French nobility viewed with dread and envy the in- 
 creasing stability of the usurper's occupation. The 
 Duke of Orleans, brother of King Charles, was a 
 brave, noisy, quarrelsome, ambitious young man, al- 
 ways fighting tournaments, or intriguing against 
 Burgundy, his uncle, for control of the government. 
 He was thoroughly selfish and devoid of principle — 
 willing to sacrifice every other interest that his own 
 might prosper. When Bolingbroke had been an exile 
 at the French court, this prince had treated him with 
 every token of confidence and affection, had been soli- 
 citous for his comfort, had been constantly his com- 
 panion, had sworn eternal friendship, had used every 
 exertion to consummate the proposed marriage with 
 his cousin Marie de Berri, had urged him to resist 
 Richard, and had assured him of every aid which he 
 was capable of giving to the end of recovering the 
 duchy of Lancaster in England. 
 
 Henry's surprise may be imagined when he receiv- 
 ed from this once ardent friend a challenge to meet 
 him in combat, giving as a cause of quarrel that the 
 times were dull, and that Orleans sought occasion to 
 gain renown ! The terms proposed were, that they 
 should cadi lead out a hundred knights in person, 
 armed with lance, battle-axe, sword, and dagger; and 
 
KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 137 
 
 that, animated merely "by patriotic rivalry, they should 
 engage in single and deadly combat. Henry, who was 
 both amused and indignant, treated the messengers 
 with contempt, and dismissed them from his presence 
 without the usual courtesies. He allowed some time 
 to elapse before he deigned to reply to the arrogance 
 of his former friend. At length he wrote a long letter 
 to Orleans, which is rich in irony, yet full of haughti- 
 ness. He declared that he was amazed to receive a 
 challenge, most of all from Orleans, and in time of 
 peace; he dissolved the friendly confidence which 
 had once existed between them ; he denied that kings 
 were open to challenge to personal combat except from 
 kings. " As to the idleness of which you complain," 
 he continues sarcastically, " it is true that we are less 
 employed in arms and in seeking honor than our 
 noble ancestors ; but God is great. When it pleases 
 him, we shall follow their footsteps. It seems to us, 
 that a prince-king ougnt only to fight for the honor 
 of God, the common benefit of Christendom, or for 
 the good of his kingdom, and not for vainglory or 
 an 'ambition wholly temporal." The last sentences 
 breathe a loftier sentiment than we find to have been 
 often uttered in that rude era ; they show the essen- 
 tially religious character of Henry's cogitations. The 
 letter closed with a severe castigation of Orleans for 
 his faithlessness, and pointed out, in no mincing terms, 
 that a knight's honor was disgraced by a disregard of 
 truth. 
 
 The French prince, upon receipt of this missive, 
 indulged in a paroxysm of bootless rage. He at once 
 forwarded another challenge to Henry; adding now 
 a new cause of quarrel. His niece Isabella, he said, 
 had been sent ignominiously home without her dower. 
 
138 KING HENBY THE F0UETH. 
 
 Henry was a usurper and a murderer. It was 
 the office of a prince of France to avenge the death 
 of Richard as the spouse of a French princess, as 
 well as to assert by combat Isabella's right to the 
 dignity of an English crown. 
 
 Henry's reply was cool and bitter. "In regard 
 to the dignity we hold, it appears you do not approve 
 of the manner in which we have obtained it. Certes, 
 we are greatly astonished at this, for we made you 
 fully acquainted with our designs before we departed 
 out of France, at which time you approved of our 
 voyage, and promised us your assistance if we re- 
 quired it, against our veiy dear lord and cousin, King 
 Richard, whom God absolve ! We wanted not your 
 assistance ; and we hold your approbation or disap- 
 probation in no account, since God and our people, 
 the free inhabitants of this kingdom, have approved 
 of our right." 
 
 Orleans, thoroughly vanquished as far as" the ver- 
 bal contest was concerned, and finding in the royal 
 epistles but little encouragement that his ennui would 
 be relieved by pricking the royal person, returned 
 to the equally congenial occupations of insulting 
 Burgundy, abusing the insane King, intriguing with 
 his brothers' wives, and fighting duels with injured 
 husbands. A complaint from Henry to the French 
 court put a stop to further annoyance. 
 
 The friends of Lord Grey de Ruthyn and Sir 
 Edmund Mortimer, who, as we shall see, were 
 prisoners of Owen Glendower, petitioned Henry to 
 permit their ransom to be paid, that they might be 
 released. Tim King readily gave his consent as far 
 as Lord Gny was coiieenu'd, but decline! to obtain 
 the release of Mortimer. This nobleman was the 
 
KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 139 
 
 uncle of the young Earl of March, who was the 
 legitimate heir to the throne, and Henry very reason- 
 ably suspected him of unfriendly feelings toward his 
 dynasty, or at least as a dangerous person to be at 
 liberty. He was therefore but little chagrined when 
 Sir Edmund was taken by the Welsh chief, and man- 
 ifested no hurry to disturb a status favorable to his 
 own safety. But the result proved that he had not, 
 in this instance, reckoned wisely. Henry Percy, known 
 more familiarly as Hotspur, had married Elizabeth 
 Mortimer, the sister of Sir Edmund. The refusal of 
 the King to secure the freedom of his brother-in-law 
 incensed the impetuous baron, who was already 
 angry because he had been deprived of the Scottish 
 ransoms. The Percys were the proudest as well as 
 the most powerful of the English barons. They 
 were prompt to resent insults, independent of re- 
 straint, and easily crossed in will. They looked with 
 reason upon the establishment of Henry on the 
 throne of Richard, as their work. That a usurper 
 who depended upon them for his crown and safety, 
 should obstinately deprive them of their ransoms 
 bravely won in hard-fought conflicts — more than all, 
 that he should refuse to consent to the liberation of 
 their near kinsman, seemed to them an atrocious 
 breach of faith and gratitude, and a just ground for 
 bidding defiance to his authority. Henry should 
 certainly have been more jealous of the relations he 
 maintained with so potent a house, knowing how 
 serious an evil to his dynasty their enmity would not 
 fail to be. There was one member of the Percy 
 family who had never given a cordial adhesion to the 
 Lancastrian cause, and who now seized the oppor- 
 tunity to satisfy his long-hidden discontent. This 
 
140 KINO HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 was Thomas Percy, Earl of Worcester, brother of the 
 Earl of Northumberland. Worcester was a factious 
 and ill-humored plotter, whose malicious spirit gave 
 much discomfort not less to his friends than- to those 
 against whom it was directed. He had a crafty 
 nature, and was so well schooled in conspiracies 
 and other dark dealings, that he became now a 
 prominent figure in the drama of rebellion. He 
 readily infused into his hot-headed nephew a portion 
 of his own rancor, and set that flame of wrath 
 aglow, which had been lighted by the late indigni- 
 ties which Hotspur conceived he had suffered from 
 the King. The Percys met in secret council. In- 
 flammatory speeches were made. ' The insults of 
 Henry, his usurpation, his murder of King Kichard, 
 his arrogant bearing, his ingratitude, were all re- 
 hearsed with glowing and indignant words. Hotspur 
 talked loudly and defiantly ; Worcester with crafty 
 calmness, yet with bitterness. Northumberland, who 
 was the least violent, was slow to resort to insurrec- 
 tion ; but hie impatient son and brother overcame all 
 opposition. Messengers went out to Owen Glen- 
 dower. The Scotch hero Douglas, a prisoner in their 
 hands, was induced to join his vengeance to theirs. 
 Envoys were despatched to France and Scotland to 
 engage the aid of those countries against the usurper. 
 Archbishop Scroop, of York, a warlike and vindica- 
 tive priest, fanned the flame of rebellion, and urged 
 the speedy consummation of the plot, promising his 
 personal cooperation. 
 
 Tlie response from Glendower was favorable. He 
 would release Mortimer and give him his daughter to 
 wife, raiso twelve thousand Welshmen, and put him- 
 self under Hie command of the northern insurgents. 
 
KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 141 
 
 Douglas promised to summon his vassals, and march 
 southward at the earliest possible moment. The os- 
 tensible object of the uprising was to place the young 
 Earl of March, the descendant of Lionel of Clarence, 
 upon the throne. The real object may fairly be pre- 
 sumed to have been to exalt the Percys over England. 
 The result of this formidable conspiracy was the memo- 
 rable battle of Shrewsbury, which confirmed Henry's 
 tenure of the crown, was fatal to the hopes of the 
 malcontents, and deprived the world of Hotspur, 
 "Worcester, and Vernon. "We reserve a particular ac- 
 count of this action for the next chapter, inasmuch as 
 it was the occasion on which Henry of Monmouth 
 first distinguished himself in that military career 
 which was afterwards to exceed in brilliant achieve- 
 ment all preceding careers in the Mstory of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 The Earl of Northumberland had failed to meet 
 his confederates with the troops under his command ; 
 pleading, perhaps perfidiously, his ill-health as an ex- 
 cuse. When he heard that Hotspur and "Worcester 
 were dead, and Douglas a prisoner, he dismissed his 
 bands, and shut himself up in his castle. The King, 
 with his habitual moderation, had no sooner conquer- 
 ed his rebellious subjects, than he issued a general 
 pardon, checked the rapacity of the royal troops, and 
 by gentle assurances and kindly bearing reclaimed the 
 love of the people who had risen against him. Nor- 
 thumberland, who appears to have been thoroughly 
 penetrated with fear, hastened to fall at the royal feet 
 while clemency was still tendered ; and the good mon- 
 arch, though he might well be both incensed at his 
 treason, and disgusted with his servility, gave him his 
 life, and soon after restored him to his principal honors 
 
142 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 in the State. Such instances of the entire absence of 
 revengeful feelings on the part of an injured sovereign 
 are rare, even in later and humaner ages than that in 
 which Henry lived. Owen Glendower, after the bat- 
 tle of Shrewsbury, escaped with a portion of his 
 Welsh to their native mountains, whence, after a short 
 season devoted to recuperating his martial energies, 
 he renewed his incursions into the western counties. 
 Prince Henry of Monmouth was sent against him with 
 a competent force, and more than once caused the 
 audacious rebel to repent his boldness. 
 
 External difficulties, as before, followed rapidly 
 upon the restoration of domestic peace. Henry was 
 learning, by severe lessons, the contrast between hap 
 piness and gratified ambition. The French Dukes of 
 Burgundy and Orleans were once more in ostensible 
 harmony, and were bent on doing their neighbor as 
 much mischief as possible. King Charles, alas ! was a 
 hopeless lunatic, and his poor kingdom rent and bleed- 
 ing by the cruel ambitions of his brothers and uncles. 
 Two armies were raised, to be devoted to the reduction 
 of Calais and Guienne, both at that time under Eng- 
 lish dominion ; and an armament boldly landed on the 
 Isle of Wight. But fortunately for Henry, the pa- 
 tience of both Burgundy and Orleans held them by a 
 feeble tenure, whilst their mutual hatred swelled be- 
 yond control within their breasts. Before the expedi- 
 tions were well under way, their bitterness toward 
 one another burst out with redoubled fury, and all 
 hope of acting successfully against a foreign foe sank 
 before the inveteracy of their discord. French and 
 Flemish vessels, however, cruised in the seas around 
 England, and being assisted by the Scotch, succeeded 
 in inflicting not a little damage to the English marine. 
 
KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 143 
 
 Henry meanwhile went steadily forward in the wise 
 administration of the realm, often summoning Parlia- 
 ment to his aid, conducting negotiations with temper 
 and firmness, providing for the defence of the coast, 
 conciliating "both nobles and people "by the impar- 
 tiality and leniency of his rule, and setting a lofty 
 example to his subjects by his purity and piety of 
 life, as well as to his successors by the dignity, regu- 
 larity, and chastity of his court and household. He 
 nobly expiated his rebellion and usurpation by the 
 excellence of his government, whilst he did bitter 
 penance for those misdeeds in the constant turmoils 
 which denied to his reign the happiness, whilst they 
 added to it the burdens, of exalted power. 
 
 Early in the year 1404, it was announced once 
 more with great confidence that King Eichard was 
 alive and in England. A man named Serle, who had 
 formerly been a servant in the royal household, per- 
 suaded a foolish clown, one "Ward, who bore some re- 
 semblance to the late King, and had been his court 
 fool, to represent Eichard himself. Eichard's privy 
 seal was counterfeited, and proclamations were dis- 
 tributed through England, calling upon the people to 
 rise in favor of the resuscitated monarch. Among 
 those who were deceived by the pretended proofs of 
 his existence, was the aged Lady De Vere, Countess 
 of Oxford, who was a bitter enemy of Henry. She at 
 once called upon her vassals to arm and go to the 
 defence of their true liege, and sent emissaries through 
 all the country round to stir up insurrection on be- 
 half of the pretender. A great commotion was pro- 
 duced, many giving credit to the absurd stories which 
 were put in circulation. The royal officers easily 
 brought a disastrous conclusion to so bungling a con- 
 
144 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 spiracy. The secret courier of Serle was taken, and 
 the particulars of the plan elicited. A number of 
 monks were detected in the act of inciting the lower 
 classes. Lady Oxford was put in close confinement ; 
 her secretary, who had declared that he had talked with 
 Eichard, was summarily deprived of his head. Sir 
 William Clifford, governor of Berwick, captured the 
 chief conspirator, Serle, who hastened to make a con- 
 fession, and was immediately consigned to the torture 
 and then to the scaffold. Few suffered for this dis- 
 turbance except its principal instigators, Henry be- 
 ing readily persuaded to grant amnesty and pardon 
 to the dupes who had been so craftily deceived 
 
 The young Earl of March, rightfully entitled to 
 the throne, had been detained by Henry in honorable 
 confinement at Windsor Castle. Early in 1405 he 
 nearly succeeded in making his escape from the usurp- 
 er. Lady Spencer, the relict of that Lord Spencer who 
 had been beheaded at Bristol for resisting Henry's 
 invasion, contrived to get him beyond the castle walls, 
 and to post him off in the direction of Wales. But 
 the absence of the young prince was discovered 
 in time, the fugitives were overtaken, and Lord 
 March was restored to his spacious and strictly 
 guarded apartments in the castle-palace. Lady 
 Spencer at once accused her brother, the Duke of 
 York (formerly Earl of Rutland), of originating and 
 conducting the design. York was seized, and under- 
 went a summary trial. His lands were confiscated ; 
 he was deprived of his title, and imprisoned. It 
 seemed that Henry was becoming tired of so many 
 constantly recurring treasons, and was beginning to 
 abandon his too merciful policy. York remained sev- 
 eral years in the Tower, after which, since he was 
 
KING HENRY THE F0TTBTH. 145 
 
 regarded with a contempt so universal that he was 
 no longer considered as a dangerous person, he was 
 set at liberty only to be utterly overlooked and for- 
 gotten. 
 
 Henry acquired much popularity among the peo- 
 ple by the reluctance with which he applied to the 
 Commons for money. The closely succeeding disturb- 
 ances which w& have narrated brought his finances to 
 a very meagre condition, and he was forced to cast 
 about for the means of replenishing the well-nigh ex- 
 hausted exchequer. He was resolved, however, to 
 refrain as long as possible from asking a popular tax- 
 ation, and determined to recall the royal grants, and 
 to take portions of the Church estates to meet the 
 pressing expenses of state. Against the last the 
 Primate made an indignant response, and the clergy 
 indulged in much abuse both of King and Commons. 
 Henry gracefully yielded to the pressure, and con- 
 trived to make ends meet from the royal domain alone. 
 But when his Parliament met at St. Albans, he found 
 much ill-humor against him, and a disposition to cross 
 his purposes. 
 
 This year is memorable for the second great re- 
 bellion of the north, which at one time gave much 
 promise of a successful issue. The perfidious North- 
 umberland, who in his old age appears to have lost 
 all that chivalrous honor and daring which dis- 
 tinguished his more vigorous years, put himself at 
 the head of another coalition, with the avowed in- 
 tent of dethroning Henry. Among his confederates 
 were Richard Scroop, Archbishop of York, a learned 
 and popular but turbulent priest; Lord Bardolph, 
 an active nobleman, who had some frivolous cause of 
 offence from the King; and the Duke of Norfolk, 
 
 10 
 
146 KING HENKY "HIE FOURTH. 
 
 who, both as the son of Henry's chief enemy, and 
 because he had been deprived of the marshalship, 
 was quite in the mood for conspiracy. Scroop pro 
 mulgated the doctrine that " all who had contributed 
 to place the present King upon the throne were 
 bound, in justice to the real heir, to drive the usurper 
 from it." Northumberland once more summoned the 
 vassals of his broad domains and of York to the 
 time-honored standard of the Percys. Another 
 insurrectionary army soon grew up under the in- 
 spiration of these powerful rebels. The Archbishop 
 shortly found himself at the head of fifteen thousand 
 men. Meanwhile a gallant knight, named Sir John 
 Falconberg, had raised some troops in the insurgent 
 cause, and had already advanced toward the south. 
 
 Henry, with what forces he could gather together 
 with despatch, marched northward. A smaller army, 
 under Prince John of Lancaster, the King's third son, 
 and the Earl of Westmoreland, preceded the royal 
 cavalcade. This last force met Sir John Falconberg 
 at Cleveland, and so spirited and vigorous was the 
 attack, that the rebels were quickly routed and 
 forced to retire in disorder. When the prince and 
 Westmoreland came upon the main body of the 
 insurgents, they discovered it to be more formidable 
 than they had anticipated. By some stratagem 
 (what does not clearly appear) the crafty Xevil suc- 
 ceeded in getting the Archbishop and the Earl of 
 Nottingham, the generals commanding the rebel 
 armj r , into his power, and in dissolving, without a con- 
 test, the whole rebel host. The insurrection unac- 
 countably melted away, and Northumberland was 
 forced to seek refuge in the northern kingdom of 
 Scotland. Lord Westmoreland brought Archbishop 
 
KING HENET THE FOURTH. 147 
 
 Scroop and Lord Nottingham as prisoners to Ponte- 
 fract castle, whither the King had arrived with his 
 retinue on his way northward. 
 
 The patience of Henry seems now to have been 
 completely exhausted; and we cannot "blame him that 
 he should at last resort to a necessary severity in the 
 punishment of traitors. He no longer appears in the 
 beneficent character of the dispenser of mercy, but 
 assumes for once the attitude of lofty and indignant 
 justice. When the two renowned prisoners arrived at 
 Pontefract, he intimated to the Chief Justice, Gascoigne, 
 that he desired the extreme rigor of the law to be 
 visited upon them. Gascoigne, who appears as one of 
 the most upright judges of ancient or modern history, 
 declined to obey the King. He could not, as a lay 
 judge, condemn a prelate. He could not usurp the 
 power of the peers by trying one of their own order. 
 
 A more pliant judge was found. The King's 
 will was accomplished. For the first time in the 
 history of England, the head of a consecrated prelate 
 bent beneath the axe of the executioner. Scroop 
 met his death with a placid courage which half 
 redeemed his treason. "The just and true God 
 knows," declared he, "that I never intended evil 
 against the person of Henry; and I beg you to 
 pray that my death may not be revenged upon him 
 or his friends." With a quiet and almost triumphant 
 smile, he submitted his venerable head to the block, 
 and the unquiet, but probably conscientious schemes 
 of Richard Scroop, were ended forever. This scene 
 occurred at the palace of Bishopsthorp, the archiepis- 
 copal residence of the province of York • 
 
 Henry, by so startling and novel an example, 
 frightened many conspirators to retire from the re- 
 
148 
 
 KINO HENEY THE FOURTH. 
 
 bellion, and infused into the loyal a new confidence 
 in the decisiveness of his character. The Pope, when 
 he heard of Scroop's death, issued a bull of excom- 
 munication against those who were concerned therein. 
 Henry, in a calm yet firm epistle, laid the facts before 
 his Holiness, with a remonstrance, the result of which 
 was the revocation of the sentence. The King now 
 proceeded to the malcontent city of York, which he 
 entered without difficulty. He placed a strong 
 guard within its walls, took away its corporate 
 charter, and laid some fines upon its citizens. Thence, 
 with thirty thousand men, he advanced upon the 
 forces under Northumberland. When he reached 
 Durham, he ordered Lords Hastings and Faulcon- 
 bridge, Sir John Colville of the Deal, and Sir John 
 Griffith, who were convicted of having leagued with 
 rebels, to be publicly executed. The aged Percy, 
 with Bardolph, had taken refuge in Berwick, on the 
 border. They judged that place untenable, how- 
 ever, against the royal army, and leaving it under the 
 command of a subordinate Scotch officer, retired to 
 the castle of Lord Fleming, who entertained and 
 supplied them. An English rebel had been left as 
 governor in Berwick castle. Henry's army came up 
 and sat down before Berwick. The Scotch, who 
 held the town, set fire to it and fled ; but the English 
 governor of the castle obstinately refused to surren- 
 der or to retire. 
 
 Henry proceeded to plant a large cannon (a won- 
 derful engine in that age) opposite the fortress, which, 
 being only built to resist less formidable implements, 
 wns soon so far demolished as to be untenable. The 
 garrison surrendered without conditions. The timor- 
 ous governor and his principal lieutenants were be- 
 
KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 149 
 
 headed. Henry tad adopted a severe code for this 
 last treason. He had tried the clemency, he now as- 
 sumed the lofty and unappeasable indignation of royal 
 dignity. Assuming as accomplished the fact of suc- 
 cessful revolution, we cannot but justify the only 
 course which seemed open to preserve alike the 
 peace of the kingdom and the integrity of the newly 
 acquired royalty. Percy, with his faithful Bardolph, 
 had now reached Edinburgh, where he had been wel- 
 comed at the court of Robert. Henry knew from 
 experience the futility of attempting the reduction 
 of the distant and well-nigh impregnable capital of 
 Scotland. After advancing a short distance over the 
 border, he retraced his steps, and on his way south- 
 ward captured and confiscated Northumberland's cas- 
 tles and estates of Alnwick, Prudhoe, and Cocker- 
 mouth, which he granted over to loyal nobles. Thence 
 passing diagonally across England with his army, he 
 joined the Prince Henry, who was still vigorously 
 engaged with Owen Glendower, and had achieved 
 considerable success in that dangerous quarter. 
 
 The King was not wholly satisfied with his north- 
 ern expedition. The chief traitor, though defeated, 
 still lived. While Percy was safe, Henry was in dan- 
 ger. The inveteracy of the Earl's opposition to the 
 reigning dynasty, his marvellous influence over the 
 people of northern England, his ability to unite a 
 multitude of conflicting interests in the rebellious 
 cause, and the duplicity with which he pretended 
 allegiance in order the more completely to betray, 
 made him the chief bane and terror of Henry's gov- 
 ernment. So Henry strove to foil him with his own 
 insidious weapon — treachery. He engaged some Scot- 
 tish noblemen, whom he had taken captive in the late 
 
150 KING- IIENBT THE FOURTH. 
 
 battles, to seize the fugitives, which being done, they 
 should have their freedom without ransom. This 
 design had nearly been accomplished, by reason of 
 Percy's age and weariness of turmoil, when Fleming, 
 his persistent friend, discovered it in time to warn 
 him. The Earl with his confederates fled upon this 
 to Wales, joined their strength with that of the in- 
 trepid Glendower, and eluded successfully many 
 schemes to transfer them to the hands of their cun- 
 ning foe. 
 
 The Scottish court at this time presented the 
 doubly mournful spectacle of royal incapacity, and 
 dissension among the chief councillors. The result 
 of this state of things, though not so disastrous, was 
 not unlike that growing out of similar misfortunes in 
 France twenty years later. King Robert was in his 
 dotage, and took but feeble part in the administra- 
 tion. His brother, the Duke of Albany, whose cruelty, 
 ambition, and courage were well suited to the cir- 
 cumstances of the time, used every endeavor to mo- 
 nopolize the power. Having assumed the regency, he 
 proceeded, by an arrogant use of his power, to con- 
 centrate his brother's prerogatives in himself. The 
 heir to the throne, David Duke of Rothsay, a reck- 
 less but generous youth, was seized by his order, cast 
 into a miserable dungeon, treated with every petty 
 cruelty and insult, and finally suffered to starve in his 
 wretched cell. The old King, roused by this bitter 
 crime, and fearing for his second son James, then a 
 youth of fourteen, summoned the Earl of Orkney, 
 and ordered him to convey that prince to Paris with- 
 out delay. Within the friendly court of Charles the 
 Well-Beloved lie would remain in security till the time 
 was ripe for him to return and claim the sovereignty. 
 
KING HENKY THE EOUETH. 151 
 
 An English cruiser, lying indolently off Flarnborough, 
 spied a suspicious vessel heading toward France. The 
 chase was short ; the Scotchman soon yielded before 
 the swiftness of his pursuer. The valuable prize, an 
 embryo Mng, was brought to the foot of Henry's 
 throne. He ordered him into confinement, saying : 
 " I can speak French as well as my brother Charles ; 
 and I am more capable of educating a King of Scot- 
 land." The castle of Pevensey was chosen wherein 
 to lodge the young prince, who remained the captive 
 of the English monarch for nineteen years. His youth 
 was spent in the study of literature, for which he 
 early evinced a strong passion. Being afterwards re- 
 moved to Windsor Castle, and treated with the most 
 liberal consideration, he there broke out into the best 
 poetry which that age has transmitted to us. The 
 Duke of Albany, like a wise man, discerning that the 
 security of his own power was held by Henry, made 
 friendly overtures ; and this fortunate capture put an 
 end to one source of unquiet until after the close of 
 both Henry's and his successor's reigns. Poor old 
 King Robert died soon after the news of James's cap- 
 ture reached him, unable any longer to bear up in his 
 decrepitude against the accumulated misfortunes of 
 his house. 
 
 Ever since the coronation of Henry his rela- 
 tions with the Parliament had been almost uni- 
 formly pleasant and harmonious. He had shown 
 a disposition to accede to their wishes, and respect 
 their opinions. They had sustainedhim on the throne, 
 had granted him supplies, and had passed laws for 
 the security of his government. In 1407, however,, 
 the session of the Commons was a stormy one. The 
 nation was restless, and began to be distrustful. The 
 
152 KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 speeches of the members in that year strike us as sin- 
 gularly bold for an age in which regal authority was 
 dreaded as nearly absolute. They complained that 
 the taxes were enormous, that quiet did not seem to 
 follow upon liberal grants, that the possessions in 
 France were constantly menaced, that Ireland was 
 slipping through their fingers, that traitors continued 
 to be at large, that rebellion was unpunished, that the 
 court was full of incompetency and ill-advisers. The 
 Speaker, Sir John Tiptoft, inveighed directly against 
 the King. Northumberland and Bardolph were en- 
 couraged by these murmurs to hope to reinstate them- 
 selves in the north. They sent to Sir Thomas Rokeby, 
 who seemed to encourage the designed attempt. 
 
 Early in 1408 Percy and his confederates returned 
 in force to their hereditary districts, recovered some 
 of their ancient castles, were joined by their former 
 tenants, and, advancing to Knaresborough, were there 
 joined by an old companion in arms, Sir Nicholas 
 Tempest. Rokeby, who had encouraged them only 
 to betray them, now came suddenly upon them with 
 a Avell-di'illed army, and pursued them as far as 
 Tadcaster, where they were forced to turn at bay. 
 The conflict was short ; the conquest of the rebellious 
 rabble was quickly consummated. The fighting on 
 the part of Percy was dogged and fierce ; the royal 
 troops were steady, persistent, and impenetrable. 
 The pride of the haughty house of Percy was saved 
 the ignominy of the scaffold ; for the aged Earl fell 
 on the field, obstinately fighting till death called him 
 thence. Bardolph was taken prisoner, so wounded 
 that lie soon after died in the victorious camp. Thus 
 ended, with the death of Northumberland and the 
 defeat of his faithful bands, that series of insurrec- 
 
KE5TG HENRT THE FOTJETH. 153 
 
 tions which had denied to Henry for eight years that 
 serenity of rule which he coveted so much. 
 
 The wise character of the King in nothing shone 
 more conspicuous than the manner with which he bore 
 with the complaints of his Parliament. He heard 
 their remonstrances patiently, and their denuncia- 
 tions without anger. He might have returned 
 resistance for resistance, and defiance for defiance. 
 He set an example which would have saved the 
 crown of one and the head of another of his succes- 
 sors, had they given heed to it. With royal com- 
 posure he yielded to the demands of the querulous 
 legislators ; with quiet dignity he strove to reconcile 
 them to the untoward events of his reign. Such a 
 spirit, conciliatory hut not cringing, awoke in those 
 to whom it addressed itself the highest admiration 
 for the sovereign. The total overthrow of the Percy 
 rebellion confirmed the returning sentiment of loyalty 
 and love. His Parliament once more reposed in him 
 a respectful confidence, and received back from him 
 his gratitude and patronage. No word of harsh 
 rebuke had passed his lips. With a rare knowledge 
 of human nature, he had touched the spring which 
 opened the hearts of his people. 
 
 While these events were enacting, Prince Henry 
 was engaged with the Welsh in the west, the course 
 and end of which campaign we refrain from narrating 
 until we come to that period in the life of our sub- 
 ject during which the events occurred. 
 
 The troubles in France were now becoming 
 hazardous to the unity of that kingdom. The death 
 of Philip, Duke of Burgundy, made way for the 
 succession of his son, who is known to fame as 
 John the Fearless of Burgundy. This prince was 
 
154 KING IIENRY TITE FOUBTH. 
 
 sanguinary, ambitious, and revengeful. He inherited 
 and intensified the rivalry and hatred Avhich his 
 father had borne toward the Duke of Orleans. A 
 semblance of reconciliation was, however, made by 
 these turbulent princes, and two expeditions, one to 
 Guienne, under Orleans, and one to Calais, under 
 Burgundy, set out to drive the English from conti- 
 nental soil. The failure of both was a signal for the 
 flame of mutual detestation to burst forth with 
 renewed violence. Burgundy charged that Orleans 
 had monopolized the resources of the state, as the 
 reason of his discomfiture. Orleans recriminated, 
 and, sustained by Queen Isabella, whose lover he 
 was, conquered. Burgundy retired to Flanders, 
 uttering bitter threats. The venerable Duke de Berri, 
 the uncle of these pugnacious men, tried for the 
 good of the state to restore amicable relations be- 
 tween them, and apparently succeeded. Burgundy 
 and Orleans met, embraced, and resolved to govern to- 
 gether in perpetual amity. They supped together, 
 went to mass arm in arm with each other, and each 
 paid the other every affectionate attention which 
 their perfidious craft could invent. 
 
 This reconciliation, like the former one, was of but 
 short duration. It was interrupted by one of the most 
 atrocious transactions recorded in history. One night 
 the Duke of Orleans was paying a visit to one of his 
 mistresses in an obscure street. As he came out with 
 a single attendant, on his way back to the Louvre, 
 several men in disguise fell upon him, and stabbed him 
 through and through. He muttered indistinctly, as 
 the blood gushed from his mouth, and then instant 
 death relieved him. Several days afterward, Burgundy 
 came to the royal council, and avowed the crime. 
 
KING HEKEY THE FOTJKTH. 155 
 
 His popularity with the citizens soon raised hint, in 
 spite of so grave an atrocity, to the summit of 
 power. 
 
 After some months of wretched wrangling, the 
 Queen, who was now virtually at the head of the 
 Orleanist faction, assented to an ostensible reconcilia- 
 tion, and the children of the martyred Orleans were 
 hugged to the breast of their father's assassin. This 
 did not last long. The young Duke of Orleans was 
 married to Bona, daughter of Bernard, Count of 
 Armagnac. This nobleman was restless, able, valor- 
 ous. He soon appeared at the head of the Orleanists 
 as the champion of the young prince, and gave to 
 them the new name of Armagnacs. He summoned 
 France to revenge the death of a prince of the blood 
 royal. He was quickly joined by the Dukes of Berri 
 and Brittany, and the Count dAlencon, the former 
 an uncle of the King, the two latter powerful and 
 martial vassals of the Crown. The superiority of 
 the Armagnacs was now so apparent, that Burgundy 
 retired from Paris and left the city in the hands of 
 his enemies. Jean sans Peur, who had little scruple 
 or pride of nation, sent to Henry the Fourth, and 
 implored his assistance to recover the capital. Henry 
 was prompt to do what he could to augment the 
 distractions of the neighboring kingdom. He saw 
 that in the weakness of France lay the safety of 
 England. Eight hundred lances and a thousand 
 bowmen were immediately sent to the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, who, advancing on Paris with this increased 
 force, succeeded in driving Armagnac and Berri out, 
 and in getting possession of the person of the insane 
 King. 
 
 The people of Paris received John with joyful ac- 
 
156 KING IIENET THE FOURTH. 
 
 clamations ; he was unquestionably the favorite of 
 the populace. He governed the city with a rigorous 
 and despotic policy, and dictated the measures which 
 the King should pass. Meanwhile he showed but lit- 
 tle respect to those Englishmen by whose cooperation 
 he had been successful, nor did he make proper ac- 
 knowledgments to Henry for his timely assistance. 
 The Armagnacs had retired to Bourges. When Paris 
 was once more settled, Burgundy set out to overcome 
 the rival faction. At this point the Armagnacs in 
 their turn applied to the English King for assistance. 
 Henry saw that for his purposes Burgundy was getting 
 too strong. He did not desire to see one faction en- 
 tirely crush the other. Burgundy had not treated 
 him with that grateful respect which he had a right 
 to look for. On his part, therefore, Henry agreed to 
 send at once to Armagnac's command four thousand 
 men. On the part of the Orleans nobles, it was stipu- 
 lated, that for this succor Henry should be acknowl- 
 edged as Duke of Aquitaine ; that he should be re- 
 stored to the possession of that duchy; that those 
 nobles who owned domain in Aquitaine should do 
 homage to him for it ; that Poictou and Angoul^me 
 should be his in reversion, and that they should 
 be restored to him on the death of the present 
 counts. 
 
 Before, however, the forces which Henry sent ar- 
 rived, the returning sentiment of patriotism among 
 the wisest men of both factions made their presence 
 worse than needless. It was discovered among the 
 Armagnacs, that they were willing to submit to the 
 royal authority. The idea of coming to terms, once 
 started, rapidly gained ground in both armies. Finally 
 an interview look place between Bern and Burgundy. 
 
KING- HEKET THE F0TTKTII. 157 
 
 The uncle and nephew embraced, and temperately 
 discussed a settlement of all difficulties. The result was, 
 that the Orleans party agreed to submit to Charles's 
 authority, which was much like submitting to John 
 the Fearless. A daughter of Burgundy married a 
 brother of Orleans. A family meeting of the princes 
 and princesses of the blood royal was held, in which 
 an oath of concord and loyalty was taken by all. 
 Burgundy and Orleans rode into Paris on the same 
 horse, and occupied the same chamber on the night of 
 their arrival. It seemed as if peace had now really 
 come to bless poor war-stricken France. 
 
 News, however, suddenly came that Thomas Duke 
 of Clarence, the second son of Henry of England, had 
 landed on French soil with an army, and that Alengon 
 and other Norman nobles were joining him. The 
 Count of Armagnac at once sent to Clarence an ac- 
 count of the reconciliation and peace of Bourges, and 
 informed him that they no longer required his aid. 
 Clarence probably regarded this as a very cool way 
 of disposing of him, and quietly refused to recross the 
 channel until the expenses of the expedition had been 
 defrayed by the French. Meanwhile, no other source 
 of support appearing, his troops were quartered on 
 the country round about. Clarence advanced south- 
 ward through Normandy and Maine, whilst another 
 English force, which had landed at Calais, was 
 quietly proceeding forward through Artois. A feeble 
 attempt was made by the French to raise an army to 
 resist the English, but so exhausted in men was the 
 unfortunate nation, that it was found less difficult to 
 satisfy the English prince by the payment of the 
 money. As Clarence approached the county of Or- 
 leans, the Duke of Orleans made haste to meet him 
 
158 
 
 KING IIENEY THE FOURTH. 
 
 and to tender him the largest amount he could raise, 
 and offered his brother, the Duke of Angouleme, as 
 hostage for as much as yet remained due. Clarence 
 then advanced to Bordeaux, and thence returned lei- 
 surely to Guienne, the English province. 
 
 These events occurred in the latter part of the 
 year 1412, which was the fourteenth year of Henry's 
 X'eign. The King for some years had not enjoyed 
 good health. He was troubled with eruptions on 
 his face, which were painful and wearing. He was 
 subject to epileptic fits, each of which more and more 
 undermined his strength. It was evident, in the fall 
 of 1412, that he was gradually sinking under the ac- 
 cumulating disorders which attacked him, and the 
 weight of care and melancholy which oppressed his 
 brain. The domestic peace which, since the death of 
 Percy, he had possessed, gave him little comfort ; for 
 his thoughts, recurring to the unjust means he had 
 taken to reach the crown, were a constant bitterness 
 to him. His mind, essentially religious and devo- 
 tional, sought consolation and hope within the solemn 
 rites of the Church of Home. He might with com- 
 placency look back upon a wise, merciful, active, and 
 generally popular reign; a reign which might com- 
 pare favorably with any of his predecessors, except 
 the first Edward and Alfred the Saxon. His repent- 
 ance for the crimes of treason and regicide we cannot 
 doubt to have been sincere. He sought forgiveness 
 by long and frequent supplication, in the solitude of 
 his closet, at the foot of the crucifix. As he felt his 
 body failing, and the probability of his decease at a 
 day not far distant broke upon his mind, his devo- 
 tions became more fervent; his separation from the 
 world daily widened ; he spent many hours alone in 
 
Kma HENRY THE FOURTH. 159 
 
 deep and melancholy contemplation, and divorced his 
 thoughts as far as possible from the worldly vanities 
 which on every side encompassed him. The con- 
 sciousness that the grace of God was at last vouch- 
 safed to his troubled spirit, gave to his final hours a 
 peace " which the world cannot give." 
 
 One day, late in March, 1413, the feeble monarch 
 was praying in "Westminster Abbey, before the 
 beautiful shrine of St. Edward, the King and Con- 
 fessor. The epilepsy suddenly seized him, and he 
 fell back upon the pavement. He was taken up by 
 some attendants and conveyed to the Jerusalem 
 chamber, the apartment of the Abbot of Westmin- 
 ster. He seems to have recovered so far as to con- 
 verse freely with those about him, yet to have been 
 fully aware that he had received the fatal stroke. 
 On reviving, he looked about in a bewildered manner 
 and asked where he was. " In the Jerusalem chamber, 
 please your Majesty," answered a priest. "Thank 
 God ! " said the King, in a feeble voice, " for it hath 
 been prophesied that I should die in Jerusalem, and 
 God hath herein so ordered it." 
 
 As the final hour approached, some of the nobility 
 persuaded the King's confessor to urge him to repent 
 and do penance for the death of Richard, the death 
 of Archbishop Scroop, and for the usurpation of the 
 crown. The King replied : " For the two first 
 points, I wrote unto the Pope the very truth of my 
 conscience ; and he sent me a bull with absolution 
 and penance assigned, which I have fulfilled." Then, 
 as if he regarded the crown as now settled in his 
 own family, and with due and proper regard for his 
 son's peaceable succession, he added: "As for the 
 third point, it is hard to set a remedy, for my chil- 
 
160 KINO IIENKY THE FOURTH. 
 
 dren will not suffer the royalty to go out of our 
 lineage." 
 
 On the morning of the 20th of March Henry the 
 Fourth, at the age of forty-six, departed from this 
 world, in peace alike with his subjects, with foreign 
 nationalities, and with his own conscience. His re- 
 mains were conveyed by water to Feversham, and 
 thence to Canterbury. In that stately and venerable 
 cathedral, where reposed his illustrious uncle, Ed- 
 ward the Black Prince, the first Lancaster was 
 entombed by the side of Mary de Bohun, his first 
 wife, whom he had loved well, for she was the mother 
 of all his children. 
 
 Four sons and two daughters survived Henry 
 of Bolingbroke. The eldest was Henry, Prince of 
 Wales, of whom we proceed to speak in the next 
 chapter. The second son, Thomas, Duke of Clarence, 
 was born in 1389. He inherited from his ancestors 
 their passion for military renown, and was a success- 
 ful and popular general. He was lieutenant of 
 Ireland in 1401, at the early age of twelve; was 
 created Duke of Clarence in 1411; and married 
 Margaret, daughter of Holland, Earl of Kent, who 
 was already the widow of the famous Earl of Som- 
 erset. The benevolence and generosity of Lis char- 
 acter are celebrated by many of the writers of his 
 time; but his fame is somewhat sullied by the ex- 
 cesses to which early in life he carried a love of 
 dissipation. John of Lancaster, the most remarkable 
 of the family if we except Prince Henry, was a 
 sober, crafty, and meditative prince, of polished and 
 captivating manners, excellent skill in diplomacy, and . 
 vigor in government. He was made constable of 
 England in 1403; but was not created duke till the 
 
KING HENRY THE FOURTH. 161 
 
 year after his father died, when he received the title 
 of Bedford. Under that name he is renowned in the 
 history of the English administration of France, as 
 Regent during the minority of Henry the Sixth. He 
 married Anne, the sister of Philip the Second, Duke 
 of Burgundy; and after her death, the Princess 
 Jacqueline of Luxembourg. Humphrey, afterwards 
 Duke of Gloucester, and the active coadjutor of his 
 brother John in the government of France, was 
 Bolingbroke's youngest son, and was especially cele- 
 brated for his fine knowledge of literature, and for 
 the elegant patronage he bestowed upon literary 
 men. Blanche, the eldest daughter, became the con- 
 sort of the King of Denmark, and during his long 
 illness administered her adopted kingdom with an 
 ability and vigor which we might expect from a 
 daughter of the Plantagenets. Philippa became 
 Duchess of Bavaria. 
 
 Henry's first wife, Mary of Hereford, died in 
 1404 ; and in the following year he married Joan of 
 Navarre, daughter of the King of Aragon. She was 
 the widow of his cousin, the Duke of Brittany, and 
 was a , princess of rare accomplishments, but never 
 bore to King Henry any issue. 
 
 It is observable that during the reign of this 
 
 admirable monarch, those principles of liberty, of 
 
 which we have already noticed the origin and 
 
 growth, were advancing without ostentation and 
 
 with methodical certainty. The House of Commons, 
 
 taking advantage of the embarrassments of the 
 
 dynasty, became alike necessary to the King, and, 
 
 in a greater degree, independent of his dictation. 
 
 The elections became more regular and more free. 
 
 Immunity from arrest was secured by the persist- 
 11 
 
162 KINO HENRY THE FOURTH. 
 
 eney of the legislature, and laws were enacted to at- 
 tain this end. 
 
 The freedom of debate, which in preceding reigns 
 had been abridged at the will of the sovereign, was, 
 under Henry, restored as a vital right of Parliament. 
 It was insisted on by the Speaker, not only at the 
 opening of every session, but as the prologue of every 
 address to the throne. Verbal petitions to the 
 King took the place of written ones — a step unques- 
 tionably progressive, which the King, though much 
 annoyed by it, found himself constrained to allow, as 
 by use it became a precedent. The addresses of the 
 Speaker, which we observe at first to be obsequious 
 and often servile, became more outspoken during 
 Henry's reign, and did not hesitate to reprehend 
 whatever in the royal policy the legislature con- 
 demned. The authority of the Commons was more 
 clearly defined — the right to vote money, the right to 
 make statutes, the right to appropriate the funds; 
 and their rights of privilege, in their relations with 
 the lords, were, after much contest, conceded to them. 
 
 The Lollards continued their agitations through- 
 out Henry's reign, and the government followed them 
 with bitter assiduity. The Church urged, and the 
 King approved, the persecution of the "heretics.'' 
 Nevertheless, the sect grew, though occasionally de- 
 pressed, and sustained the link which was to bind 
 Luther with Wickliffe. The first capital execution 
 for heresy was made by Henry; in palliation, of 
 which the rudeness of the age, the undoubtedly 
 sincere and no less blind devotion of the King to the 
 Papal Church, and the insolent power of the hie- 
 rarchy, are to be considered. 
 
 On the whole, the reign of Henry the Fourth 
 
KING HEWET THE FOUKTH. 
 
 was one of the wisest and most blameless which we 
 find in history; and the pure, merciful, and active 
 character of the monarch merits the approbation of 
 a pure, merciful, and active age. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Ho was, indeed, the glass 
 Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves." 
 
 THE CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH OF HENRY OF MONMOUTH — HIS 
 CHARACTER — THE REBELLION OF GLENDOWER — THE WELSH 
 CAMPAIGNS— THE BATTLE OF SHREWSBURY. 
 
 No character in the history of any nation has 
 been invested with more romantic heroism by poetry 
 and tradition than that of Henry of Monmouth. To 
 the mind of Shakspeare no prince so well deserved 
 the illustration of dramatic and exalted genius. 
 Those who look for a union of every heroic, admira- 
 ble, and lovable quality in a single person, linger with 
 content over the history of the victor at Agincourt. 
 The contrast of his early career with that of Lis ma- 
 turer years only serves to heighten the fascination 
 which the record of his Life throws around Lim. Neither 
 Edward the Black Prince, Richard the First, nor 
 Edward the Third combined every chivalrous char- 
 acteristic so perfectly as Henry seems to have done. 
 Most writers near his own time agree upon the 
 principal points of his character; all yield to him a 
 praise s<> ardent that, at four centuries 1 distance, we 
 find ourselves all aglow with wouder and admiration. 
 Shnkspeare seems to have caught the infection, and 
 to have caressed the fame of the hero-king with the 
 
HEETRY OF MONMOUTH. 165 
 
 choicest coruscations of his genius ; laying upon the 
 tomb of his subject, as the tribute of his affectionate 
 enthusiasm, a garland of the richest flowers of his 
 fancy. The character which he presents for our 
 study is, in the main, borne out by the faithful histo- 
 rians who lived during the events which they narrate. 
 Sometimes his imagination carries us beyond the 
 region of history ; at times the temptation to lively 
 exaggeration brings the Prince before us in a light 
 not borne out by history. The poet, on the other 
 hand, has done the Prince but justice by vindicating 
 his fame from the traditions of his debauchery, coarse- 
 ness, and unworthy regardlessness of law. There is, 
 indeed, not a little discrepancy between writers in 
 regard to Henry's conduct during the lifetime of his 
 father. Some have boldly represented him to be 
 utterly lost to every precept of honor and virtue. 
 Others have given undue weight to the idea that 
 there was bitter discord between the father and son, 
 that the son plotted against the father's crown, that 
 the father was immoderately jealous of the son's 
 popularity. No authentic record exists, however, 
 which gives just ground for either of these supposi- 
 tions. The misunderstandings which Shakspeare 
 represents as occurring were no more serious than 
 would naturally arise between a. rigidly pious father 
 and a light-hearted and full-spirited boy. That 
 Prince Henry ever sought wickedly the sovereignty 
 of the King, is absolutely devoid of any foundation 
 whatever. On the contrary, every evidence exists 
 that his affection for the King was deep and sincere, 
 that he evinced any thing but impatience in prospect 
 of his succession, and that he bore the reproofs which 
 were prompted by parental solicitude with respect 
 
l(j(j IIENEY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 and quick obedience. In truth, when he seemed 
 least regardful of the dignity which should have 
 pertained to him as a prince of the blood royal, there 
 can be no doubt that he often paused in his reckless 
 career, filled with remorse, wrestling with his flighty 
 spirit to overcome his unseemly sports, and to as- 
 sume a true princely manner and habit. That this 
 worthy endeavor finally triumphed, and that in time 
 to bring unheard-of glories to his beloved England, 
 the sequel will abundantly show. 
 
 Monmouth is a delightful town in a county of the 
 same name, lying beside the county of Glamorgan, 
 in southern "Wales. No part of England is more 
 abundantly endowed by nature with forests, and 
 vales, and sloping hills, and graceful streams, and 
 that bright green verdure which blesses that country 
 above all others. The river Monnow, flowing from 
 the north, joins the Wye from the east, and on the 
 spot thus hemmed in stands, on a pleasant site, the 
 town of Monmouth. Immediately around the town 
 are groups of hills, gently sloping to the plain, and 
 covered from summit to base with noble forests. 
 Beyond these, in the dim west, the grand and cheer- 
 less ledges of the Welsh mountains, lying darkly 
 against the sky, bound the view. The valleys of the 
 Monnow, and especially of the Wye, are romantically 
 beautiful ; the course of both streams is serpentine ; 
 the domain is richly cultivated and fruitful; the 
 groves upon the banks, and the lawns evenly descend- 
 ing to the water, vary the effect of the thrifty farms ; 
 the streams are clear and of a charming tint of blue ; 
 ami the ancient castles, clotting here and there the 
 cheerful landscape, crown the scene with a fascination 
 which only the blending of historic relics with present 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 167 
 
 nature can produce. The town itself was in the 
 olden time strongly fortified. A long street, with 
 here and there a smaller one branching off, gave the 
 shape of its plan ; and in the centre was a space for 
 the market, where the good old knights assembled 
 on the summons of loyalty or chivalry, and where 
 the high-capped dames and red-cheeked lasses bar- 
 tered, gossiped, and talked anxiously about the 
 wars and the valiant deeds whose renown reached 
 back to their quiet homes. Near by was the old 
 Benedictine priory, where Geoffrey of Monmouth, in 
 the twelfth century, had revelled in his wealth of 
 manuscript, and whence he had sent down the hint 
 of Lear to inspire Shakspeare's fancy. There, too, 
 were the remains of that old Roman camp, called by 
 Antonine Blestium. 
 
 In this pleasant town of Monmouth Mary de 
 Bohun, the wife of Henry of Bolingbroke, gave 
 birth, in the year 1388, to the first heir of the usurp- 
 ing house of Lancaster, who was to shed upon it its 
 greatest lustre, who was to preserve it intact, and in 
 turn pass over its possession to his successor, who 
 was to quarter, by right of conquest, the fleurs-de-lis 
 of Yalois upon the escutcheon of Plantagenet, and 
 unite in his own person the crown of France with 
 that of England ; above all, who was to set an ex- 
 ample of valor, ability, mercy, and magnanimity, 
 which monarchs to all time might seek to emulate 
 and approach, but which it would be vain to seek to 
 surpass. To this day the country roundabout re- 
 tains the legends of the glorious Prince who first 
 saw the light there. At Troy House, the seat of 
 the Dukes of Beaufort, near Monmouth, are to be 
 seen the cradle in which the precious infant was 
 
1G8 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 rucked, and the armor which, now the athletic 
 warrior, lie wore on the proud day of Agincourt. 
 Bolingbroke was still Earl of Derby when his oldest 
 son was horn, and the boy's grandfather, John of 
 Gaunt, was alive to rejoice that Providence had sent 
 another heir to the house of Lancaster. Hereford, 
 too, the maternal grandsire, found, in his old ao-e, 
 that his own domains and those of Lancaster were 
 likely to be united under a single line. Henry of 
 Monmouth's early childhood was spent, as mostly the 
 childhood of princes was, in the different rural castles 
 belonging to his family, under the lenient tutorship 
 of some priest or pedagogue, and with freedom to 
 grow strong and active in fresh country air. His 
 body was trained in the hearty sports of lawn and 
 field, his sinews exercised under gymnastic experts, 
 and his spirits kept buoyant by amusements which 
 attracted and did not enervate. He was not intro- 
 duced too soon into the perplexities of mental edu- 
 cation; here and there a slight dose was sufficient 
 during the first years. The use and practice of arms 
 usually preceded the alphabet. The cross-bow, an 
 object of wonder and delight to the children of olden 
 chivalry, came into vogue very early in their existence. 
 A double end was gained — the inculcation of a 
 martial art, and the construction of a vigorous body. 
 Prince Henry was quick to see the virtues of a cross- 
 bow ; his delight was intense to enjoy that which was 
 at once a pleasure and a lesson. Yet, despite the 
 precautions which were taken with him, his health 
 gave great solicitude to his parents. He was weakly, 
 and often retired exhausted from his daily exercises. 
 Yet his spirit was buoyant, his relish for vigorous 
 games hearty, his disposition sweet and docile, and 
 
HENRY OP MONMOUTH. 169 
 
 his love of the companionship of children near his 
 own age warm and constant. From the maternal 
 stock he derived an affectionateness and trustfulness 
 which drew every heart toward him, even in infancy. 
 Indeed, that was true of him which has often been 
 remarked of other renowned persons, that to his 
 mother, perhaps more than to his father, he owed the 
 qualities which won for him the most enviable laurels 
 to which he rose. 
 
 Besides the taste which he early developed for 
 the sword and the cross-how, young Henry exhibited 
 a passion for music. He learned with surprising 
 quickness how to play upon that noblest of instru- 
 ments, the harp. He committed to memory and 
 sang with zest those quaint old "ballads which passed 
 from mouth to mouth in that bookless age, and which 
 celebrated the glories of chivalry, the excitements of 
 the chase, and (as later ballads have not ceased to do) 
 the beauty and constancy of woman. At the age of 
 eight he began to study a grammar, the price of 
 which (four shillings) we are amused to find in the 
 steward's accounts as having been laid out for the 
 purpose. Henry Beaufort, the illegitimate brother 
 of Bolingbroke, afterwards the stern and cruel judge 
 by whose sentence the Maid of Orleans was brought 
 to an unworthy death, became the tutor of the Prince ; 
 and as Bolingbroke soon after went abroad, the chief 
 care of his education devolved upon this learned man. 
 
 Mary de Bohun, the mother of Henry, died in 
 1394. For her he continued through life to entertain 
 the tenderest affection. Her self-forgetful devotion 
 to her children, the anxiety with which she watched 
 over their health, the sweetness of her temper, made 
 the mutual bond between them so strong that her 
 
170 
 
 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 decease affected her child, though so young, with a 
 keen and protracted grief. Long after, when he had 
 reached the summit of royal glory, he would turn 
 aside from his worldly splendor to do silent homage 
 to the memory of his beloved parent. The sensitive- 
 ness of his nature is shown in this. If he, as King, 
 persecuted the reformed religion with relentless rigor, 
 it surely half redeems the blot that the remembrance 
 of his mother's devotion to the Church stimulated his 
 zeal in its behalf. 
 
 His grandmother, the Duchess of Lancaster, died 
 in the same year. The only female relative who was 
 spared to watch over the heir was his mother's 
 mother, the Countess of Hereford. To her he was 
 forced to look for those maternal duties of which he 
 had so sadly been bereaved ; and, as far as can be 
 judged from the dearth of positive testimony, she so 
 nurtured him as to win his love and veneration, as 
 well as the warm approbation of Bolingbroke. 
 Beaufort was a man of rare ability. John of Gaunt 
 had trained him, though born out of wedlock, with 
 that anxious care which he bestowed upon his proper 
 heirs ; and the early evidence he gave of a fondness 
 for study and a desire for knowledge was no bad 
 prophecy of his future eminence. When young Henry 
 was eleven years of age, in the year before the revo- 
 lution which brought his father to the throne, Beau- 
 fort, who had been made Chancellor of the University 
 of Oxford, took him under his care at Queen's 
 College. Formerly a quaint old room in that col- 
 lege used to be pointed out as that in which the 
 future hero had acquired his first experience of 
 university life. A portrait of him was emblazoned 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 171 
 
 oil the tinted window, and below it the triumphant 
 inscription appeared : 
 
 "To record the fact forever. 
 
 The Emperor of Britain, 
 
 The Triumphant Lord of France, 
 
 The Conqueror of his enemies and himself, 
 
 HENKY V., 
 
 Of this little Chamber 
 
 Once the great Inhabitant." 
 
 The probability is that Henry was not entered 
 regularly as an undergraduate of the University. 
 His extreme youth, and the meagre preparation to 
 which he had been subject, forbids the supposition. 
 It is more consistent to believe that he was placed at 
 Oxford to be under the eye of his uncle the Chancel- 
 lor, and that Beaufort rather put him under private 
 instruction than in classes with the other and more 
 advanced scholars. The residence at the University, 
 if it did not deeply imbue him with classic lore, at 
 least introduced him to several friendships which 
 did credit to his discrimination, and which undoubt- 
 edly had an excellent influence on him through life. 
 
 It is interesting to observe that he made his 
 choice of companions not only at college, but in his 
 royal career, to a great degree from those who made 
 theology their study, and looked forward with en- 
 thusiasm to their assumption of the sacred offices of 
 the mother Church. One of these was Carpenter, 
 who afterwards attained the episcopal dignity of 
 Worcester, and whose learning and benevolence have 
 as much preserved his fame as his honorable connec- 
 tion with the famous King of whom we write. 
 Thomas Kodman, another prelate, and more than 
 that, the first astronomer of his time, was one of the 
 
172 
 
 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 Prince's little circle at Queen's. The eloquence of 
 Stephen Partington stirred the religious element of 
 Henry's character, which appreciated and admired 
 superior ability of speech. Partington became his 
 favorite preacher and confidential adviser, and before 
 the death of Henry was promoted to the diocese of 
 St. David's. He continued to be well worthy of the 
 confiding friendship throughout the latter's life. The 
 cloistral life of Prince Henry was of short duration. 
 The revolution, which had so momentous a connection 
 with his own fate, broke in rudely upon his quiet 
 pursuit of theology, mathematics, and philosophy. 
 He was summoned from the perusal to the spectacle 
 of epic history. He threw up Homer to imitate in 
 act, as he had in thought, the achievements of Achilles. 
 When his father, then Duke of Hereford, was 
 exiled, his family still remained in England under the 
 uncertain protection of the King. But if Bolingbroke 
 entertained any fear for the safety of his sons, by 
 reason of Richard's hatred, he exaggerated the malig- 
 nity of the royal heart. Richard summoned young 
 Henry from Oxford, and introduced him to his court 
 at London. All notion of continuing the secluded 
 life of a scholar was now abandoned. A ruder, but 
 doubtless more congenial career, was opening before 
 this boy, who had but thought to fill an honorable 
 rank among the knights and courtiers of his kins- 
 man's palace. When he arrived at the metropolis, 
 apartments were given to him at the royal residence, 
 servants were placed about him, and he received at 
 the hands of Richard so many thoughtful amenities, 
 that for many years afterwards he recurred to the 
 memory of the unfortunate monarch with alt'eetion 
 and gratitude. Yet a close watch was kept over the 
 
HENET OF MOimOtTTH. 173 
 
 actions and sayings of Henry, and he was really a 
 prisoner in Eichard's hands. He was not allowed to 
 communicate with his father. "When Eichard went 
 on his ill-fated expedition to Ireland, he ordered 
 young Henry to accompany him. Although the 
 King treated his young kinsman with much cour- 
 tesy, he evidently regarded him as a pledge of 
 safety. When they arrived in Ireland, the King was 
 very attentive to Henry, had him constantly at his 
 side, and saw that every thing was provided for his 
 comfort. Beyond this, he conferred upon him the 
 rank of knighthood, with much pomp and ostenta- 
 tion. "My fair cousin, be gallant and bold; for 
 unless you conquer," said the King, " you will have 
 little name for valor." 
 
 After the conclusion of the campaign, Eichard 
 was feasting and continuing idle pleasures at Dublin, 
 when the intelligence reached him that Bolingbroke 
 was advancing on London. The King at once re- 
 turned, as we have seen, to England ; and when he 
 had reached her shores, having yet the Prince in his 
 suite, he called him to his side and said : " Henry, 
 my child, see what your father has done to me. He 
 has invaded my land as an enemy, and, as if in regu- 
 lar warfare, has taken captive and put to death my 
 liege subjects without mercy and pity. Indeed, 
 child, for you I am very sorry, because for this un- 
 happy proceeding of your father you must perhaps 
 be deprived of your inheritance." Henry replied 
 with dignity that he was grieved at the news, but 
 was himself innocent of the treason. Eichard said : 
 " I know that the crime which your father has per- 
 petrated does not at all attach to you ; and therefore 
 I hold you excused of it altogether." 
 
174 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 Henry was conveyed by the King's order to the 
 castle of Tryon, where he and his cousin, young 
 Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, were put in easy 
 confinement. There he remained until the rapid and 
 complete successes of his father afforded the oppor- 
 tunity for his restoration to liberty. When Kichard 
 had been seized by Bolingbroke at Flint, some 
 knights were sent for the young Prince, with in- 
 structions to bring him to London. He probably 
 did not accompany the insurgent army, and no record 
 is found as to how or when he reached the metropo- 
 lis. It is certain, however, that he joined his father 
 at Westminster before the coronation, and took a 
 conspicuous part in that ceremony, being accorded 
 the honors of the heir apparent to the throne. His 
 feelings, upon attaining so exalted a dignity, were 
 not entirely exultant. He was old enough to per- 
 ceive that violence had been done to the constitution 
 of the realm. He had not seen his father for some 
 time, and had never been his companion, therefore 
 his filial affection was not probably excessive. He 
 was shocked that one who had in every way sought 
 his love by gentle kindness, should be deprived of 
 power and liberty by his own nearest kinsman. For 
 Richard he seems to have entertained more than the 
 ordinary dutiful attachment. Yet it was natural for 
 him to conceal whatever sadness he might entertain 
 on account of the misfortune of his friend, in the 
 brilliant scenes of which he was a principal actor. 
 His presence in company with the new King gave 
 additional eclat to the usurpation ; for he was looked 
 upon as innocent of the stain, and his youth and 
 beauty elicited the enthusiasm of the populace, who 
 were now to rctmnl him as their future monarch. 
 
HENEY OF MONMOUTH. 175 
 
 It will be interesting to know how Henry ap- 
 peared, and moved, and acted, and spoke at the time 
 when his fortunes took so startling a course toward 
 greatness. In his twelfth year he was noted for his 
 personal beauty. An old print of him, probably 
 copied from an original, represents a bright, childish, 
 though not robust face, the most noticeable features of 
 which are the large, round, and speaking eyes. The 
 nose is a little too long to be in perfect symmetry, yet 
 is straight and evenly shaped. The top of the head 
 is broad ; the forehead, like that of Bolingbroke, capa- 
 cious and indicative of great force of character. The 
 lower part — the chin and jaw — is narrow, but not 
 thin, well curved, and betokening delicate health. He 
 was symmetrical and thin in body, taller than the 
 average youth of his age, small of bone, endowed by 
 nature with an exquisite grace and almost feminine 
 ease of motion. There was, notwithstanding, no ap- 
 pearance of weakness, either physical or mental. His 
 movements were prompt and quick, his limbs readily 
 manoeuvred, his sinews compact, and his personal 
 strength apparent in every action. He had so trained 
 the use of his body, that none in the court were so 
 fleet of foot as he. He endured fatigue without the 
 least apparent discomfort, and both body and mind 
 were patient under hardships, whether voluntarily or 
 under necessity endured. Often would he follow a 
 deer with his agile feet, and, in contempt of horse or 
 hound, keep pace with the victim of the chase, finally 
 bringing him to the ground with the cord which he 
 flung from his hand. 
 
 Fuller, the theologian, says of him: "He had a 
 strong and active body, neither shrinking in cold nor 
 slothful in heat, going commonly with his head un- 
 
176 
 
 HENKY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 covered ; the wearing of armor was no more cumber- 
 some to him than a cloak He never shrunk at a 
 wound, nor turned away his nose for ill savor, nor 
 closed his eyes for smoke or dust ; in diet, none less 
 dainty or more moderate ; his sleep very short, but 
 sound ; fortunate in fight, and commendable in all his 
 actions." The affectionate tribute of this fine old 
 writer may be taken with a grain of allowance ; yet 
 we can cheerfully believe the representation to be in 
 the main just, for it confirms a multitude of other wit- 
 nesses. The Prince was proud to excel both in the 
 light games of pleasure, and in the more serious con- 
 tests of personal vigor which were the wont of those 
 days. He was impatient, in the generosity of his na- 
 ture, of that praise which sought him out in injustice 
 of those who had really triumphed. He would not 
 accept a laurel which he had not fairly won, so that 
 the youth did not shrink from the trial with him, be- 
 ing assured that he would protect their right against 
 himself. He inherited from his father a princely and 
 genial courtesy of manner. He displayed uniformly 
 that sympathetic attention to the feelings of others, 
 which is preeminently the mark of a true gentleman. 
 His delicacy was noted and marvelled at by all who 
 approached him. There was, however, a difference 
 between his affability and that of his father. The 
 manner of the elder was in a degree reserved and dis- 
 tant; even the extraordinary smile which so attracted 
 was slight and studiously dignified. The feelings 
 were fully under control; one who approached feared 
 to break the spell by the faintest attempt to be fa- 
 miliar. The temper was calm, moderate, melancholy. 
 There was pride and reserve in the step, though the 
 
HENKY OF MONMOUTH. 177 
 
 smile held its place, and the kindness of the voice 
 never changed. 
 
 In the son, on the contrary, courtesy and good na- 
 ture overflowed from the generosity and magnanimity 
 of his soul. No restraint was put upon the cordial 
 expression of the feelings. No distrust of men con- 
 strained the action. No distinction between persons 
 entered into his sympathies. It was greatness in him, 
 not to be spoiled by the indulgences and freedom of 
 his bringing up ; to be self-forgetful in the midst of 
 temptations the most alluring to administer to the 
 demands of selfishness. He was indignant when in- 
 justice oppressed the feeble; held out bis hand to 
 raise up those who fell ; defended the weaker against 
 the stronger; opened his purse to want, and the con- 
 solations of his heart to suffering ; encouraged content 
 by his own example ; promoted cheerfulness by his 
 vivacity, and effort by his indifference to hardship ; 
 and frowned upon hypocrisy and craft, by showing an 
 open countenance, a transparent life, and a frankness 
 of conduct in which there entered no deceit. Despite 
 the buoyancy of his spirits, Henry was not a great 
 talker. He was often silent and thoughtful. He gave 
 utterance to his ideas with clearness and brevity. , He 
 did not waste his words with useless circumlocution. 
 His perception of the gist of topics discussed was 
 prompt, and his reply equally ready and full. He 
 could listen with deference to those who addressed 
 him, and treated the opinions of others with a respect- 
 ful attention so charming, that it was the delight of 
 divines and statesmen to dispute with him. He was 
 neither loud nor forward in giving his own views; he 
 apparently felt that one so young should never seem 
 dogmatic or positive on questions in regard to which 
 
 12 
 
1V8 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 age and learning were in doubt. In his bearing, both 
 at court and among companions less fastidious, he was 
 easy and conciliatory ; and he possessed that true deli- 
 cacy of breeding which banished stiffness or embar- 
 rassment from the company in which he was. 
 
 Amid all the allurements which his princely rank 
 threw about him to withdraw his mind from quiet 
 meditation, he was a devoted champion of the Church 
 of Rome. Like his father, he was not ill versed in 
 the sacred traditions and doctrines which lent the 
 hierarchy its specious and dangerous lustre. He liked 
 occasionally to be in the society of priests, to hear 
 them dispute, to ask them questions, to get their opin- 
 ions, to be encouraged by their praise, to be corrected 
 by their censure. The piety of both parents had led 
 his mind into this occasional serious train of thought. 
 He had always, from his birth, heard of the lawlessness, 
 the ignorant fanaticism, the atrocious heresies and blas- 
 phemies of the Lollards, whom he came to regard as 
 little less diabolical than the children of Satan. Hence 
 came the spirit of bigotry which Ave shall find to be 
 the only blot on the fair name of Henry of Monmouth. 
 But we cannot doubt the sincerity of his bebef, or 
 that his motives fully approved themselves to his 
 conscience. 
 
 Such a character as we have described deserves the 
 panegyric of the poet and the historian. To be sur- 
 rounded with every allurement which is centred in 
 the. courts of kings, and yet to remain undefiled ; to 
 be young, and high-spirited, and full of animal activity, 
 and yet to escape the vices which stood ever ready to 
 take hold on him; to be the subject of hourly adula- 
 tion, to be caressed, to have every wish and whim an- 
 ticipated by the zealous watchfulness of those about 
 
HENEY OF MONMOUTH. 179 
 
 him, to have the opportunity for indulging in every 
 propensity open before him, to be praised for each 
 slightest word and act and movement, to be greeted 
 by applause from every mouth when he appeared, and 
 yet to preserve the angelic sweetness of temper, the 
 magnanimity, the tenderness of feeling for all, the 
 meek self-forgetfulness, and the simplicity of manners 
 of innocent youth; such a prince may indeed fill us 
 with loving admiration, and rise, in the estimation of 
 our minds, a pure and lofty spirit, above the cynics 
 who have in the centuries traduced his bright renown. 
 It was fitting that so fine a soul should be illustrated 
 by brilliancy of intellect and eloquence of speech — 
 that so precious a jewel should be encased in a casket 
 of beauty and graceful proportion. For he at first 
 drew men toward him by the natural adornments of 
 his person, then by the activity of his mind, then by 
 the sincerity and fulness of his heart. No man went 
 from his presence with anger in his breast. When he 
 refused a request, he did it with such regretful gentle- 
 ness, that his condescension seemed a greater gift than 
 what was denied ; when he granted a favor, his con- 
 sent was given with such promptness and hearty zest, 
 that it more than doubled the value of what he gave. 
 
 Against these qualities, however, some less credit- c 
 able must be balanced. Henry was bigoted in reli- 
 gion. He was unjust to foreigners. He was too 
 fond of the society of unworthy companions. He 
 sometimes 'lowered the royal dignity. He was not 
 too respectful to high dignitaries. The anecdote of 
 the Prince and the Chief Justice shows that he occa- 
 sionally overstepped the bounds of propriety. One 
 of Henry's companions was arraigned before Sir Wil- 
 liam Gascoigne for some misdemeanor. The Prince, 
 
180 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 hearing of it, attended the court in person. When 
 sentence was about to be delivered, he somewhat ar- 
 rogantly demanded an acquittal of the delinquent. 
 Gascoigne, who was one of the most upright and fear- 
 less judges who ever graced the British bench, calmly 
 asked him to permit the law to be followed, and re- 
 ferred him for clemency to the King. Henry, with 
 several companions, then attempted to rescue the 
 prisoner. Gascoigne, in a stern voice, ordered him to 
 keep the peace. The Prince came forward to the 
 judge's desk in a rage, and held his hand to the hilt 
 of his sword as if to draw it upon the judge. Gas- 
 coigne, unmoved by this menace, and more resolute 
 than ever, upbraided him with great severity. " Ee- 
 member, sir," said he, " who you are, and who I am ; 
 appointed here to keep the place of your sovereign 
 and your father, him to whom you owe a twofold 
 obedience. Wherefore, in his name, I do charge you 
 leave off your wilfulness, and give from henceforward 
 a better example to them that shall one day be your 
 subjects. And now, for your contempt, go you to the 
 prison of this court, whereto I commit you, there to 
 abide until the pleasure of the King your father shall 
 be made known." The Prince, subdued by the dig- 
 nity and sternness of the judge, put back his sword, 
 bowed penitently, and gave himself promptly and 
 humbly into the hands of the attendant sheriff. This 
 submission of his son to the laws of England struck 
 King Henry with admiration, and made .the peoplel 
 prouder of him than ever. Yet, to carry the example 
 to its full extent, young Henry was for a season de- 
 prived of his seat in the council, and was prohibited 
 to attend the royal court. 
 
 The. Prince's not over-fastidious taste in the choice 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 181 
 
 of associates is much exaggerated by those who have 
 "blindly followed Shakspeare, as if he were a simple 
 historian. Yet it is probably trne that some of those 
 in whose company he was found from time to time, 
 were not fit to properly influence the mind of the heir 
 apparent to the throne. The cordiality of his nature 
 made him warm to those of much lower degree, who 
 seemed inclined to conviviality, and who possessed 
 enough wit to make the hours fly rapidly. There was 
 too much decorum, too much ceremony, too much 
 stateliness in the society of the great ; he could only 
 unbend with those who were not fettered by the con- 
 ventionalities of rank. No evidence exists that he was 
 a robber or a brawler, as Shakspeare represents, yet 
 which he would by no means have us believe. The 
 intimacy of a prince of the blood royal with common 
 persons would be noticed enough to build such tra- 
 ditions upon, and we may be sure, that had Henry 
 really been guilty of drunkenness, burglary, and ca- 
 rousing, we should have had the fact duly authenti- 
 cated by the gossiping chroniclers of the day. 
 
 Parliament, immediately after the coronation of 
 Henry the Fourth, passed an act dated Wednesday, 
 October the 15th, 1399, indorsing the creation of 
 Prince Henry as Prince of "Wales, Duke of Cornwall, 
 Duke of Aquitaine, Duke of Lancaster, and Earl of 
 Chester, declaring him to be the heir apparent to the 
 English throne, and swearing the same loyalty and 
 allegiance to him as they had already sworn to his 
 royal father. Henry was brought into the presence 
 of the King, who was seated on his throne in state ; 
 a coronet of gold, encircled with rubies and pearls, 
 was placed upon his brow, a ring upon his finger, and 
 a golden staff in his right hand. The King then rose, 
 
182 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 and descending from the throne, embraced and 
 kissed his youthful heir. The popularity of the 
 Prince, in virtue of the qualities which have been 
 described, was unequalled among all classes. The 
 legislature, the court, the populace, vied to give evi- 
 dence of their affection for him. It was not a little 
 owing; to his excellence that his father was able to 
 acquire and preserve a usurped sovereignty. The 
 Commons were especially enthusiastic in their devo- 
 tion to him. Their expressions in his behalf are far 
 more solicitous and earnest than those for his father. 
 They petitioned the King that Henry should not go 
 out of the realm, "forasmuch as the Prince is of 
 tender age." They wished to preserve him from the 
 dangers of that ruthless warfare which threatened to 
 take place with the Scotch, "Welsh, and Irish malcon- 
 tents. They knew how ardent was his desire to 
 mingle in exciting scenes, and how brave he was to 
 encounter danger. They were unwilling that those 
 qualities should thus early expose him to death, 
 which in the future might avail to cover himself and 
 his country with glory. 
 
 Whenever the Prince appeared in public, which 
 was often, he was greeted with a popular enthusiasm 
 so hearty that its sincerity could not be questioned. 
 He was surrounded and cheered at every step ; the 
 good wives and (laughters of the town leaned far out 
 of the gabled windows to flourish a handkerchief, 
 throw a kiss, or spread bouquets beneath his feet. 
 His smile was so bright and genial, his voice so 
 winning, and his gratitude so happy, that the great 
 heart <>f the. metropolis bent with glowing affection, 
 and lie was fairly idolized by every man, woman, and 
 child among them, lie often appeared in plain 
 
HENET OF MONMOUTH. 183 
 
 habit, with few or no insignia of royalty about him ; 
 walking simply and modestly along the street with 
 some boon companion, and anon stopping to address 
 a kind word to some humble Londoner whom he 
 chanced to meet. Such condescension pleases the 
 multitude, and multiplies a prince's friends among 
 those whose friendship in turbulent times is not to 
 be despised. Many an act of tyranny will be per- 
 mitted and forgotten in the memory of a gracious 
 act, a kind look, a sympathizing word. 
 
 While Prince Henry's ease and simplicity won 
 the love of the lower classes, they delighted to see 
 his slender and noble, figure splendidly adorned, 
 mounted upon a prancing steed, and having about 
 him the glittering paraphernalia of majesty ; riding 
 among them their true prince, in his proper glory, 
 the model representative of the power and chivalry 
 of England. For Prince Henry, mingling with his 
 people in modest dress, and with cordial familiarity, 
 was their loving protector and indulgent father; 
 while Prince Henry, with his plumed helmet, glisten- 
 ing cuirass, jewelled sword, and lofty bearing, was the 
 champion of their greatness among the nations, the 
 creator of a proud history, the dispenser of justice, 
 the avenger of insults. His precocity was remarka- 
 ble; for at the time he received so much homage he 
 was hardly twelve years old. It was deemed neces- 
 sary that the Prince, who now occupied so eminent a 
 rank in the realm, should be supported . in a manner 
 worthy of his new dignities. The council was in- 
 formed, that as yet he had neither palace nor attend- 
 ants. An establishment was accordingly cheerfully 
 provided for him. A portion of one of the royal 
 palaces was set apart for his household. A chapel, 
 
ISA IIEKKY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 supplied with chaplains, was prepared. Stewards, 
 chamberlains, cooks, coachmen, attendants, and coun- 
 sellors were appointed to maintain a household 
 befitting his proper state. Lands were ceded to him, 
 from whose income the household should be sup- 
 ported ; and special grants of money were also made. 
 In a few months Henry found himself surrounded 
 with every comfort he could wish, supplied with 
 funds, and at liberty to pursue his inclinations as he 
 pleased. The King, meanwhile, who had never paid 
 a close attention to his children, was too much occu- 
 pied with the settlement of the dynasty he had 
 created, to look much into his son's affairs. After 
 seeing that he was properly surrounded with the re- 
 quirements of his rank, he paid little attention to his 
 training, and permitted him to pursue what occupa- 
 tions and pleasures he chose. Bolingbroke's nature 
 was not affectionate or anxious; and if he did not 
 display that solicitude which would have been be- 
 coming, he at least was no tyrant in his own family. 
 
 Of the manner of King Eichard the Second's 
 death, whether it was by the connivance of King 
 Henry or not, the Prince certainly had no cognizance. 
 The feelings with which he regarded the unfortunate 
 monarch were very different from those which actuated 
 his father. He had received from Eichard' s hands 
 nothing but kindness and encouragement. He had 
 shared his society, and had been the favorite compan- 
 ion of many of his quiet hours. He had derived from 
 him many useful precepts, and many lessons which lie 
 perceived to emanate from the heart of the King, and 
 which were well-timed to improve his young mind. 
 It would be reasonable to suppose that the Prince's 
 affection for Eichard rivalled, if it did not exceed, that 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 185 
 
 for Bolingbroke. The mysterious disappearance of 
 Ms royal friend affected him deeply, young as lie was. 
 He rejected the idea that his father had "been instru- 
 mental in the event, and persuaded himself that 
 Richard had either died a natural death, or had im- 
 posed death upon himself. He mourned a loss which 
 he freely regarded as his own, with a sorrow which 
 excluded him for a time from the gayeties and "busi- 
 ness of the court. He cherished Richard's memory, 
 and when he became King, as we shall see, paid every 
 respectful honor to his remains ; ordering those obse- 
 quies, which were neglected at the time of his death, 
 to be performed with more than usual solemnity and 
 pomp. Those who are most inimical to the Lancas- 
 ter do not hesitate to recur to this affection between 
 the heir of that house and its victim with cordial 
 praise, giving Henry every credit for the sincerity and 
 magnanimity of his conduct. In the year 1400, soon 
 after King Richard's death, the troubles on the north- 
 ern border broke out afresh. There seems to be much 
 doubt whether, as is asserted by Monstrelet, Prince 
 Henry accompanied the army which went thither to 
 restore quiet. If he did, there is no evidence that he 
 in person performed any deeds worthy of note. It 
 was formerly the custom to send princes of the blood 
 royal on warlike expeditions in early youth, with the 
 nominal command, but really under the guardianship 
 of an experienced general. The object of this was 
 to accustom them to scenes of battle, and to inure 
 them to the hardships of war. Henry may have gone 
 to Scotland in this manner, accompanied by "West- 
 moreland or March the Scot; but that a boy of 
 twelve, took active command of an army, is an ab- 
 
180 IIENUY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 surdity which it is surprising to observe in sensible 
 writers. 
 
 An opportunity, however, soon occurred to initiate 
 young Henry into the privations and discipline of 
 war. A field opened before him in which he might 
 readily arrive at proficiency, and in due time at re- 
 nown, and that under a training as rugged as ever 
 prince was compelled to undergo. 
 
 One of the most extraordinary men of that, per- 
 haps of any age, appeared, to annoy Henry the Fourth 
 from this time almost to the day of his death. A re- 
 bellion, headed by him, took its rise, to keep which 
 in abeyance drained the resources of England, and 
 which at times absolutely threatened the integrity of 
 the throne. This man, who suddenly burst upon the 
 drama, was called in his own country Owyn of Glen- 
 dourdy, and is known to us as Owen Glendower. 
 He was living on a private estate called Glendourdy, 
 in south Wales, quietly pursuing the dignified em- 
 ployments of a landed gentleman, when the events oc- 
 curred which are to be narrated. His descent was 
 illustrious. His great-grandsire was that renowned 
 Llewellyn ap Jorwarth Droyndon, sovereign Prince 
 of Wales, who had so gallantly fought for the inde- 
 pendence of his principality in the time of Henry the 
 Third. He was therefore directly descended from a 
 long line of valiant sovereigns, who had for centuries 
 disputed the encroachments of their more powerful 
 and grasping neighbors. In his veins the haughty 
 blood of these princes Mas vigorous and headstrong, 
 and he inherited their audacious spirit as well as their 
 castles and manors. His domain was very large, ex- 
 tending along the border of the .English county of 
 Salop. IJe was born, according to his own account, 
 
HENET OF MONMOUTH. 18 7 
 
 in 1359. Traditions existed in the neighborhood of 
 Grlendourdy, of miracles which were wrought at the 
 time of his birth. On the night when he came into the 
 world, it was said, the horses in his father's stables 
 were discovered standing up to their bellies in blood. 
 A storm, in which supernatural visions were seen 
 by mortal eyes, swept over the bleak hills of the 
 vicinity. Seers and sibyls were more than usually 
 prolific in prophecies of power, adventure, and glory. 
 Such superstitions always found a ready belief in the 
 "Welsh, where traditions last longer, and wonders hap- 
 pen oftener, than in any other country. Owen, as 
 he grew up, was regarded with awe, and all who in- 
 curred his enmity were filled with dread, lest he should 
 call upon the elements and the spirit world to war 
 against them and crush them. It is probable that, 
 long before the actual rebellion broke out, he was 
 looked up to by many of his countrymen as their des- 
 tined champion in a coming struggle for independence. 
 At an early age he went to London and studied there, 
 spending most of his time at the Inns of Court, where 
 he became versed in the science of the law. Whilst 
 there, he attracted the attention of King Eichard the 
 Second, no less by his brilliant pedigree than by the 
 remarkable ability which he displayed. The King 
 was so well pleased with the bearing of Owen, that 
 he took him into the royal household as one of his 
 esquires. After his return to the hereditary estates, 
 having seen something of civilized life, and cultivated 
 a taste for learning, he remained quietly at home, un- 
 til the appeal of Eichard in his distress came to him 
 from Conway. He summoned his adherents to go in 
 defence of his benefactor, but was too late to save him 
 from capture by the insurgent Bolingbroke. He be- 
 
188 
 
 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 came the esquire of the Earl of Arundel, whose castle 
 was near his own estates ; but after a short time once 
 more took up his abode at Glendourdy. 
 
 Wales had, for more than half a century, enjoyed 
 almost entire peace and security. The last insurrec- 
 tion had occurred in the time of Edward the Second. 
 The liberal government of Edward the Third, and the 
 laxity of Eichard's reign, had left them undisturbed 
 to pursue their rugged avocations, and had soothed 
 their rough natures by gentle restraint. The inter- 
 course between the Celts and their Anglo-Norman 
 neighbors had been friendly, often cordial. Trade 
 had sprung up between them, intermarriages had be- 
 come usual, and either race travelled back and forth 
 over the other's domain in safety. The Welsh, there- 
 fore, saw with little satisfaction the accession of an 
 usurper, and the establishment of a stringent policy 
 at the English court. 
 
 Discontent soon ripened into a desire throughout 
 Wales to resume the attempts, long since suspended, 
 to erect an independent sovereignty. By a coinci- 
 dence of opportunity, a private motive of revenge, and 
 the general spirit of insubordination, united to acceler- 
 ate a crisis. The lands of Owen Glendower lay con- 
 tiguous to those of a proud and powerful baron, Lord 
 Grey de Ruthyn. Confident of his superior strength, 
 Grey took possession of a tract of Owen's land, and 
 attached it to his oavii estate. Glendower prudently 
 laid the grievance before Parliament, and petitioned 
 for redress. The appeal, however, notwithstanding 
 the protest of the Bishop of St. Asaph, was disregard- 
 ed ; and an insulting message was returned to Glen- 
 dower, to the purport that they did not care for " bare- 
 fooled rascals." A further indignity from Grey drove 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 189 
 
 the Welsh chieftain into open revolt. The King had 
 sent, through Grey, a letter to Glendower, summoning 
 him to join in the expedition against Scotland. Grey- 
 had detained the missive until it was too late for' 
 Glendower to obey its command. Owen no longer 
 had any confidence in the royal protection, and pre- 
 pared to raise the standard of insurrection. Grey's 
 insolence became. the while more arrogant than ever. 
 His encroachments on his neighbor's property contin- 
 ued. Owen now raised a band of sturdy peasants, 
 drove Grey's retainers across the border, entered his 
 enemy's domain, pillaged it, and .carried back to the 
 fastnesses some of the haughty baron's servants. After 
 such an act, it was useless to look for any thing else 
 than the vengeance of Henry. Grey was a favorite at 
 court, and had been supported in an unjust and illegal 
 act ; it would be futile to seek forgiveness at the hands 
 of the irate monarch. The time had come when noth- 
 ing but an appeal to arms would suffice. The "Welsh 
 were all ready, and only awaited a directing mind to 
 begin general hostilities. Owen boldly announced 
 himself as their leader, renounced his allegiance, and 
 bid defiance to the English King. From all parts of 
 the principality the people began to flock to his stand- 
 ard, from Carnarvon and Anglesea in the north, from 
 Cardigan in the east, from Pembroke and Glamor- 
 gan in the south. The native bards went through 
 the valleys chanting the wild war songs, and rude 
 orators harangued in the quiet villages and upon the 
 narrow plains. The native gentry, with their troops 
 of retainers, made haste over the mountains to join 
 famed Glendower. The King began to issue procla- 
 mations. One ordained "that no Englishman mar- 
 ried to any Welsh woman of the amity and alliance 
 
190 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 of Owen of Glendourdy, traitor to our sovereign lord, 
 or to any other "Welsh woman after the rebellion of 
 the said Owen, shall be put in any office in Wales, or 
 in the marches of the same." Another was aimed at 
 the bards : " No waster, rhymester, minstrel, nor vaga- 
 bond shall be in anywise sustained in the land of 
 Wales." But it was too late to employ words. The 
 only antidote for the crisis was the advance of armies. 
 The Welsh students at Oxford and Cambridge, and 
 the Welsh laborers at work in England, hastened to 
 defend the rights of their native land. Glendower 
 Avas proclaimed Prince of Wales, and the independence 
 of the principality was declared. 
 
 Grey of Ruthyn, now with good reason alarmed, 
 apprised the King that Wales was in rebellion. Henry 
 was then on the northern border, fighting the Scotch ; 
 so the Prince Henry was sent with a force to the west, 
 under the virtual command of Warwick and Talbot. 
 Here begins that long career which it will be our duty 
 to recount, in which young Henry received his first 
 lessons of war, and which shed upon him his first dis- 
 tinctions in military action. Before the army had 
 reached the Welsh boundary, the King himself came 
 up, having settled the other disturbance, and together 
 they advanced rapidly upon the insurgents. Glen- 
 dower, learning the approach of the royal forces, made ' 
 a sudden sally upon the English plains, took, plunder- 
 ed, and burned the town of Ruthyn, Lord Grey's in- 
 heritance, and having spread rapid desolation in his 
 path, retired to his own domain. The vigor, ability 
 and daring displayed by this incursion, the great learn- 
 ing of Owen, and the thought of restoring the hardy 
 dynasty of Llewellyn in the person of so capable a 
 leader, inspired the Welsh with ardor and temerity. 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 191 
 
 When the King's army reached the scene, he found 
 himself opposed by dark and jagged ranges, gloomy 
 defiles, barren plains, and dangerous chasms, within 
 which the native troops were securely hid, and over 
 which it was impossible to pass. Leaving his army 
 in the neighborhood, under the nominal command of 
 the Prince, Henry returned to the capital to resume 
 the affairs of state. Prince Henry had a more difficult 
 work in maintaining his title by governing the prin- 
 cipality which gave it, than his predecessors had had. 
 As Prince of "Wales, it was befitting that to him, in 
 the eyes of the world at least, should be committed 
 the task of reinstating the royal authority. The re- 
 bellious chieftain had assumed the title; it was for 
 the heir to the crown to vindicate his own claim to it, 
 and to erase it from his adversary's escutcheon. 
 
 In the year following Glendower came bursting 
 down over the mountains with great numbers, and 
 made sorties in every direction. The Prince's forces 
 repeatedly advanced upon the wily chief, only to 
 find the country desolated, and to discover on every 
 side the results of a cruel devastation. The success 
 of the "Welsh was so constant and so skilfully 
 achieved, that the reputation of Glendower soon 
 became terrible to his opponents. In one of his 
 incursions Grey of Ruthyn himself was taken cap- 
 tive. The treatment which he received at the hands 
 of his ancient enemy was in marked contrast with 
 his own harsh bearing, and his fears were soon 
 banished by the generosity of one who had had good 
 reason, and now had the power, to take vengeance 
 tipon him. 
 
 Sir Edmund Mortimer, at the head of twelve 
 thousand men, finally succeeded in giving battle to 
 
192 IIENKY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 Glendower at Knighton, in Radnorshire. The issue 
 was no exception to the usual result; Mortimer was 
 taken, his army routed, and over a thousand royalists 
 were killed. The King came in person to the rescue. 
 The army was divided into three parts — commanded 
 respectively by the King, Prince Henry, and the Earl 
 of Arundel — with the view of hemming in the in- 
 surgents. But Glendower adroitly retired with his 
 prisoners to the rugged caverns and denies, and the 
 royal army was forced to resume the attitude of a 
 stationary and watchful camp. The difficulties of 
 the country, incessant rains, want of provisions, and 
 the discouragement which they had met with, made 
 a further attempt to reach the Welsh inexpedient, if 
 not altogether impracticable. 
 
 A scene of much greater interest was now about 
 to open upon the Prince's career. The King had set 
 out for the north for the purpose of joining the 
 Percys in the war against the Scotch. He proposed 
 to form a junction with them in Northumberland, 
 and, with a united force which should be invincible, 
 inflict a decisive blow upon his troublesome neigh- 
 bors. When he arrived at the town of Burton-on- 
 Trent, he heard, to his utter amazement, that Henry 
 Percy was marching southward with a considerable 
 army, proclaiming Eichard still alive, and boastfully 
 announcing his purpose to restore that monarch's 
 dynasty. Up to this time Henry seems to have had 
 no suspicion that the discontent of the Percys was 
 any thing more than a passing whim. 
 
 A royal proclamation was instantly issued, calling 
 on all loyal subjects to join the King. The Prince of 
 Wales, who was engaged on (lie bonier of his titular 
 domain, and in whom suspicion was first created by 
 
HENEY OF MONMOUTH. 193 
 
 the flight of his guardian, Thomas Percy, Earl of 
 Worcester * was summoned to lead the forces under 
 his command to the rescue. The preparation was 
 sudden ; hut Henry resolved that no time should be 
 lost in seeking an engagement with the insolent 
 foe. The Prince arrived promptly, and the proclama- 
 tion was responded to eagerly by the adjacent popu- 
 lation. 
 
 Owen Glendower was hastening, according to the 
 compact he had made with Percy, to join the insur- 
 gents. Northumberland was organizing another 
 army in the north, and would soon be ready to add 
 his quota to the swelling rants of the rebellious host. 
 The King saw the necessity of offering battle before 
 this union should take place. The impetuosity of 
 Hotspur aided the King's design. Without deigning 
 to await the arrival of his allies, he pushed forward 
 toward the royal army, anxious to meet Lis enemy in 
 speedy combat. The two forces came face to face 
 beneath the walls of Shrewsbury. Hotspur awoke 
 one morning to see the banners of Lancaster waving 
 from a neighboring hill. He retired in order to a 
 plain about three miles off, called Hateley Field, 
 west of the town. There his army was drawn up in 
 battle array, ready to receive the shock of Henry's 
 attack. It consisted of Northumbrians under Percy's 
 personal command, a force of Scotch under Douglas 
 and March, and some Cheshire archers under the 
 Earl of Worcester. Before, however, the engagement 
 began, Hotspur sent a defiance to the King, iri which 
 were enumerated the pretended causes of the rebel- 
 lion. Henry, lie declared, had unjustly refused 
 permission to the victors of Homildon to ransom 
 
 * Worcester was in fact the prime mover of the Percy rebellion. 
 13 
 
194 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 their prisoners, by which they would have been 
 remunerated for the expenses of their armament. 
 He had prevented the liberation of Sir Edmund 
 Mortimer, Hotspur's brother-in-law, a prisoner in the 
 hands of Owen Glendower. He had not only usurped 
 the realm, after having sworn that he did not seek 
 the crown, but he had abused his power, and insulted 
 those who had put it into his hands. 
 
 To this audacious message Henry, always moder- 
 ate, sent a reply by the Abbot of Shrewsbury and 
 the Clerk of the Privy Seal. Without condescend- 
 ing to dispute about the terms of the defiance, without 
 even a rebuke directed against the present crime of 
 the confederates, he offered a free and unconditional 
 pardon to all the insurgents if they would retire and 
 lay down their arms. Hotspur himself, though a 
 headstrong and passionate man, hesitated at so lenient 
 and noble a response to his insulting message. He re- 
 solved to send an envoy to the King, to make, if 
 possible, terms of reconciliation. In this he was 
 much to be praised ; but his choice of a commissioner 
 was most unfortunate, if he sincerely desired peace. 
 Thomas Earl of Worcester, who was probably the 
 original fomenter of the rebellion, and who was by 
 far the most bitter and obstinate of Henry's enemies, 
 went to the royal camp as envoy, at the command of 
 Hotspur. The language which he addressed to 
 Henry was so indecorous, that it soon became evident 
 that in) accommodation was possible. There can be 
 no doubt that Worcester sought by this interview 
 not peace, but so to provoke the King as to make 
 peace impossible. The King heard him with pa- 
 tience, and remonstrated with him with his habitual 
 calmness ; but the ill-spirited Earl boldly reprimanded 
 
HElTCiY OF MONMOUTH. 195 
 
 him, and without hesitation charged him with tyranny 
 and crime. Even the temper of Henry gave way 
 "before such insolence. Worcester was sent out of 
 the royal lines without delay, and orders were given 
 to prepare for an immediate engagement. 
 
 The divisions of the army had hardly got into 
 position before the Northumbrian archers, led val- 
 iantly by Hotspur himself, and shouting, " Esperance, 
 Percy ! " * burst upon them with a thick torrent of 
 arrows and spears. The royal bugles echoed over 
 the hills — the King advanced on one side, and the 
 Prince of Wales on the other — the cry of " St. George 
 and England" rang along the lines — the banners 
 swayed to and fro — the helmets flashed — the shields 
 arose before the crouching knights — and the weird 
 hubbub of battle filled the air of the quiet plain. 
 " So, furiously the armies joined," says quaint Hall. 
 The onset of the rebel archers was at first irresistible ; 
 the royal troops yielded for the moment. The arrows 
 " fell as the leaves fall on the ground after a frosty 
 ' night," says one, " at the approach of winter. There 
 was no room for them to reach the ground; every 
 one struck a mortal man." 
 
 Douglas, with his hardy Highlanders, followed up 
 the first onset with promptness and valor. Then 
 Worcester came clown with the chivalry of Cheshire, 
 and his archers, posted on a hillock, sent volley after 
 volley into the flank of Henry's legions. The rapid and 
 indignant onset of Prince Henry, followed by that ob- 
 stinate band who had learned the art of war so well in 
 Wales, brought the fury of the conflict to its height. 
 As the King's troops recovered their courage from the 
 first shock, their resistance was steady. All of the 
 
 * The heraldic motto of the Percy family. 
 
19G HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 leaders exposed themselves in front of their men, and 
 set a glorious example by the valor with which they 
 themselves engaged their adversaries in mortal com- 
 bat. Bolingbroke's calm face, with a proud smile, 
 scorning to put off his insignia of royalty, was seen 
 here and there and here again, urging with a few 
 words the courage of his troops, holding his sword 
 aloft dripping with rebels' blood, and fighting lustily 
 with each hostile knight who sought him out. Hot- 
 spur dashed hither and thither with foaming mouth 
 and purple face, and limbs trembling with mad ex- 
 citement, and stentorian voice, daring all to the fight. 
 Douglas, more self-controlled, but quite as brave, bent 
 shield and helmet with his ponderous stroke, and 
 sought with obstinacy the centre of the conflict. 
 
 Prince Henry, who now found himself for the 
 first time an actual participant in glorious war, was 
 everywhere conspicuous, encouraging a brave attack, 
 seeking the most formidable adversaries, and holding 
 right proudly his gilded helmet with its tri-plumed 
 crest. Beneath his quick and strenuous blows fell 
 many a worthy foe ; those who sought him as a mark 
 one after another bit the dust at his feet. At his ap- 
 proach every soldier felt a thrill, and redoubled his 
 exertions. 
 
 The fair young face, yet beardless, flushed with 
 the bloom of a novel excitement ; the large bright eye, 
 resolute and full of ardent fire; the graceful form, 
 bending and straightening with the strife of sword 
 thrusts, inspired the rude warriors of fifty battles, and 
 put new souls into those who fain would shrink be- 
 fore the o] tposing prowess. Suddenly, as ho was seek- 
 ing a new victim to his valor, an arrow struck him in 
 he face. The blood flowed from the wound ; a knight 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 197 
 
 was about to withdraw him from the field. Spring- 
 ing up, the young hero refused to retire, and rushing 
 into the thickest of the fight, showed that he disdain- 
 ed to live and leave the issue doubtful. A moment 
 after, the word passed that King Henry was killed. 
 Douglas had sought him out, and had struck him 
 down. For an instant the royal army wavered at this 
 news ; but the appearance of the King, moving rapidly 
 from line to line, and cheering on the faltering mass, 
 soon restored the battle to furious equality. Again 
 and again, as the crimsom stream stained the Prince's 
 corselet, was he urged to go to the rear, that his life 
 might meet no further danger. " My lords," cried he, 
 impatiently, "far be from me such disgrace as that, 
 like a poltroon, I should stain my novitiate in arms 
 by flight. If the Prince flies, who will wait to end 
 the battle ? Believe it, to be carried back before vic- 
 tory, would be to me a perpetual death ! Lead me, I 
 implore you, to the very face of the foe. I may not 
 say to my friends, ' Go ye on first to the fight.' Be it 
 mine to say, ' Follow me, my friends.' " Thus, to the 
 end of the conflict, he continued to resist the remon- 
 strances of those who sought to protect him, and to 
 show them a bright example of fortitude and perse- 
 verance. For three hours the battle raged with bit- 
 ter obstinacy ; now one party, now the other, seeming 
 to gain the advantage. But ah event occurred which 
 suddenly directed victory to the royal arms. Hot- 
 spur, after such deeds as have given him a justly illus- 
 trious renown, fell, mortally wounded. The royalists 
 at once set up a shout, which sent terror to the hearts 
 of the insurgents : " Harry Percy is dead ! " A panic, 
 sudden and universal, spread through the ranks of 
 those who were now without a leader. The Welsh 
 
1!>'S HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 were the first to [rive way, and to take to the hills and 
 forests. A general rout hood ensued; and Douglas, 
 too proud to fly, was captured as he moved slowly 
 and moodily from the field. The Earl of Worcester, 
 Lord Kenderton, and Sir Richard Vernon were also 
 among the captured. The Scotch, under Douglas, had 
 fought desperately ; few survived the issue of the day. 
 The loss on each side was about equal, as the numbers 
 engaged were nearly so. Henry had led about four- 
 teen thousand men into the field; Hotspur about thir- 
 teen thousand. Of these twenty-seven thousand, about 
 thirteen thousand were killed or wounded. Many 
 prisoners were taken by the King, and the victory was 
 so decisive as to render it impossible for the scattered 
 insurgents to recruit and become any longer formid- 
 able. The royal authority was completely restored. 
 
 The battle of Shrewsbury inspired the nation 
 with new confidence in Henry, and silenced the com- 
 plaints which were becoming loud against him. Many 
 of the proud chivalry of England lay low that day ; 
 many barons, especially from the northern border, were 
 silenced in their treasons forever. On the evening of 
 that memorable day, Saturday, the 21st of July, 1403, 
 the victorious but wearied army filed into the town 
 of Shrewsbury, and were dismissed to rest. On Sun- 
 day, the King, the Prince Henry, and such of the loyal 
 nobility as were present, heard masses, and made a 
 quiet feast. There seems to have been no disposi- 
 tion to exult noisily over a triumph which cost >o 
 much gallant and gentle blood, and which was won 
 over brave but misguided Englishmen. All rioting 
 was prohibited to the soldiers, and priests were sent 
 among lliein to preach and to enjoin order. The fol- 
 lowing morning Henry summoned Worcester and Ver- 
 
IIENKY OF MONMOUTH. 199 
 
 non before liim. They came into his presence with 
 haughty brows, and preserved a sullen silence. The 
 clemency which might have been won by submission, 
 was repulsed by their foolish obstinacy. Their sen- 
 tence was then awarded. They were carried to the 
 market-cross of the town, where, more than a century 
 before, the Prince David of Wales had met a traitor's 
 death, and upon that historic spot their heads were 
 severed from their bodies. That of the detestable 
 "Worcester was forwarded to London, and there placed, 
 by the King's command, upon London bridge. It is 
 with satisfaction that we find this wicked disturber 
 of the peace at last brought to his deserts. Henry 
 would have been worthy of censure, had he stretched 
 his love of clemency to such an extent as to let Wor- 
 cester escape. That he knew where to bestow clem- 
 ency, however, is shown to our admiration in the 
 magnanimity with which he preserved the life of 
 Douglas, and the respect which he paid to that manly 
 and valiant adversary. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 " The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, 
 
 Shall never sag with doubt, nor shake with fear." 
 
 THE WELSH CAMPAIGNS— HENRY'S POPULARITY— THE CESSATION OP THE 
 WELSH REBELLION— GLENDOWEK'S END AND CHARACTER— HENRY A 
 COUNCILLOR OP STATE— NEGOTIATIONS FOR HIS MARRIAGE— FRENCH 
 RELATIONS— THE LAST DAYS OF HENKY THE FOURTH. 
 
 The battle of Shrewsbury established the military 
 fame of Prince Henry. His praises were sounded from 
 one end of the kingdom to the other, and his renown 
 
 .extended to foreign lands. The King was greatly 
 pleased with his son's conduct. The excitement of 
 the battle, his success, the encomiums which poured 
 upon him, made young Henry restless to follow up 
 his good fortune by seeking another opportunity of 
 glory. It must be remembered that at this time he 
 was but fifteen years of age. 
 
 When the King marched northward to meet the 
 forces of the Earl of Northumberland, which were 
 supposed to be tardily advancing, Henry remained 
 behind to hold out the royal mercy to those who had 
 fought against the crown. The King caused an in- 
 strument t<> lie drawn up, empowering the Prince of 
 Wales to pardon all the followers of Sir Henry Percy, 
 
 ' who might choose to come and plead for mercy. The 
 Prince, making his headquarters at Shrewsbury, 
 
HENET OF MONMOUTH. 201 
 
 published a proclamation, urging the rebels who 
 were straggling in the neighborhood to return to 
 their allegiance; and in response to the generous 
 leniency thus held out, many came into the city and 
 took the oath of loyalty. It was in accordance with 
 Prince Henry's character to perform this pleasant 
 duty gracefully and with real zest. It is not im- 
 probable, indeed, that he urged his father to give 
 him the commission in the first place, or at least asked 
 to be the instrument of mercy when it was resolved 
 that it was to be proffered. 
 
 In the fall of this year the depredations of Owen 
 Grlendower on the western border were renewed with 
 as much pertinacity as ever ; but we do not discover 
 that Prince Henry took a personal share in the con- 
 flict ; there is, indeed, some doubt as to whether he 
 was in Wales at all at this time. Many castles and 
 fair domains fell into the hands of the Welsh. Es- 
 tates were plundered, inhabitants driven from their 
 villages and farms, the lands sacked, towns burned, 
 ships stolen, and the produce of the country round- 
 about gathered and transferred to the wild glens of 
 Radnor, Brecknock, and Glamorgan. Talbot and 
 other generals and admirals were constantly on their 
 track, and occasionally gave them severe chastise- 
 ment ; but their audacity was little damped by occar 
 sional defeat; if they were rascals, they were no 
 cowards. A temporary period was indeed put to 
 their inroads by the advance of winter. As the 
 snows and storms grew more severe, the followers of 
 Glendower retreated beyond their rugged hills, and 
 prepared to resume their depredations when the 
 spring should once more open for them paths to the 
 tempting plains below. 
 
202 IIENEY OP MONMOUTH. 
 
 In the following April an unexpected cooperation 
 from a foreign quarter gave the Welsh an improved 
 occasion for successful incursion. The French had 
 concluded a truce with Henry the Fourth. It was 
 kept with Punic faith. They hated Henry, and were 
 bitterly hostile to his dynasty. The truce had only 
 been made through fear, or a wish for delay. It -was 
 now broken with unparalleled effrontery. Sieur James 
 de Bourbon, Count de la Marche, a scion of the house 
 of Valois, and holding the exalted office of Grand 
 Chamberlain of France, collected at Brest a force of 
 twelve hundred well-armed men. Thence, under 
 royal orders, he sailed toward England, with the 
 avowed design of uniting with the Welsh against 
 the King. With him were Louis Count of Vendome 
 and John Baron of Clarency, his younger brothers, 
 who commanded divisions of the armament. He 
 first attempted to land his transports at Dartmouth, 
 but adverse winds prevented. He then chased some 
 merchant craft into Plymouth harbor, took possession 
 of them, and disembarked his forces in that town, 
 which, having been plundered, was committed to the 
 flames. He next took possession of a small island 
 near the coast, and there pursued his savage scheme 
 of devastation. In cowardly alarm lest Henry, con- 
 stantly on the alert, should be upon him before he 
 knew it, he turned his prows again toward France. 
 He did not, however, wholly escape punishment. 
 The elements chastised him as thoroughly as Henry 
 could have wished, for a storm arose, which sunk 
 twelve of his transports, carrying with them into 
 the depths a greater part of the armament. He 
 landed with much difficulty at the small harbor of 
 
HENET OF MONMOUTH. 203 
 
 St Malo, and returned crestfallen to the presence of 
 his sovereign. 
 
 While this was going on in the south, Owen, ap- 
 prised of the cooperation of the French, fell upon his 
 prey with his usual temerity. This expedition was 
 followed by others of a yet more piratical character, 
 instigated by the French court. French vessels would 
 sally out, commanded by noblemen of such renown 
 as the Baron de Penhors and the Baron de Chastel, 
 attack merchantmen peacefully on their way to and 
 from British ports, and would bring their ill-gotten 
 prizes into French harbors. Those merchants who 
 refused or were unable to pay ransoms were thrown 
 overboard, or put upon a foreign shore without money 
 or clothing. 
 
 In one of these raids the Admiral of Brittany and 
 Lord de Chastel landed at Dartmouth, and there en- 
 gaged in battle with a garrison of English. The as- 
 sailants were badly defeated, de Chastel and two of 
 his brothers killed, over a hundred prisoners taken, 
 and the Admiral was fain to return with the best 
 haste he could to his own shores. On another occa- 
 sion a formidable armament was collected under the 
 marshal of France and John de Hangest, master of 
 the cross-bows. They set out from Brest in no less 
 than one hundred and twenty transports, and landed 
 at Haverford-West. Having spread desolation all 
 around the Castle of Haverford, which was itself de- 
 fended by Arundel, they proceeded to Tenby. There 
 they formed a junction with Owen Glendower, who 
 had under him ten thousand men. From that time 
 these two forces cooperated together under the "Welsh 
 chieftain. They were encountered near Worcester by 
 King Henry, but neither party risked an attack, and 
 
204 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 the allies, forced by famine and a hostile neighbor- 
 hood, withdrew; while Henry, checked by the de- 
 fences with which nature had fortified the "Welsh fron- 
 tier, did not think it advisable to follow. The French 
 government was not content with filling up the wasted 
 ranks of Glendower. The next step was to acknowl- 
 edge Owen as sovereign Prince of Wales. Glendower, 
 who dated his sovereignty from 1400, at once sent 
 two envoys to the court of Charles, to solicit a league 
 and alliance. The ambassadors found the French King 
 quite complaisant, and by no means disinclined to lis- 
 ten to the proposal. A league was soon agreed upon, 
 and ratified. While these negotiations were still pend- 
 ing, Glendower's inroads into England, made doubly 
 formidable by the trained soldiers of France, who 
 could cover an orderly retreat, became more audacious 
 than ever. Prince Heniy was active in every direc- 
 tion, and, although he fought no memorable actions, 
 succeeded in keeping up a vigorous defence wherever 
 a defence was possible. He was so straitened for 
 means to carry on the war, that he sold the jewels off 
 his person, and then was forced to say to the Council, 
 that if he was not quickly furnished with funds, he 
 would be forced to abandon the field. " We implore 
 you," he wrote, " to make some ordinance for us in 
 time, assured that we have nothing from which we 
 can support ourselves here, except that we have pawn- 
 ed our little plate and jewels, and raised money from 
 them ; and with that we shall be able to remain only 
 a short time. And after that, unless you make provi- 
 sion for us, we shall be compelled to depart with dis- 
 grace, and mischief, and the country will be utterly 
 destroyed, which (Jod forbid! And now, since we 
 have shown you the perils and mischiefs, for God's 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 205 
 
 sake make your ordinance in time, for the salvation 
 of the honor of our sovereign lord the King our father, 
 of ourselves, and of the whole realm ; and may our 
 Lord protect you, and give you grace to do right." ' 
 A prompt attention was given to this letter, and the 
 " ordinance" providing funds was passed. 
 
 Inasmuch as we have introduced a part of the 
 Prince's letter to the Council, it will he interesting to 
 the reader to have a more satisfactory specimen of his 
 epistolary manner. A letter written to his royal father 
 about the time of which we are writing, and which is 
 found in Halliwell's " Letters of the Kings of England," 
 is deemed worthy a perusal, on account of its lofty and 
 religious tone, and the illustration it affords of the 
 Prince's character. The date is the 26th of June, 
 1404 : 
 
 " My very dread and sovereign Lord and Father : 
 " In the most humble and obedient manner that 
 I know or am able, I commend myself to your high 
 Majesty, desiring every day your gracious blessing, 
 and sincerely thanking your noble Highness for your 
 honorable letters, which you were lately pleased to 
 send to me, written at your Castle of Pontefract, the 21st 
 of this present month of June. By which letters I 
 have been made acquainted with the great prosperity 
 of your high and royal estate — which is to me the 
 greatest joy that can fall to my lot in this world. 
 And I have taken the very highest pleasure and en- 
 tire delight at the news, of which you were pleased to 
 certify to me. First, the speedy arrival of my very 
 dear cousin, the Earl of Westmoreland, and of Wil- 
 liam Clifford to your Highness; and secondly, the 
 arrival of the despatches from your adversary of Scot- 
 
206 HENRY OK MONMOUTH. 
 
 land and other great men of his kingdom, by virtue 
 of your safe conduct for the good of both kingdoms, 
 which God of his mercy grant ! And that you may 
 accomplish all your honorable designs to his pleasure, 
 to your honor, and the welfare of your kingdom, as I 
 have firm reliance on Him that is Omnipotent that 
 you will do. 
 
 " My most dread and sovereign lord and father, at 
 your command in other your gracious letters, I have 
 removed with my small household to the city of Wor- 
 cester ; and at my request there is come to me, with a 
 truly good heart, my veiy dear and beloved cousin, 
 the Earl of Warwick, with a fine retinue, at his own 
 veiy heavy expenses ; so he well deserves thanks from 
 you for his good will at all times. And whether the 
 news from the Welsh be true, and what measures I 
 purpose to adopt on my arrival, as you desire to be 
 informed, may it please your Highness to know that 
 the Welsh have made a descent on Herefordshire, 
 burning and destroying also the country, with very 
 great force, and with a supply of provision for fifteen 
 days. And true it is, that they have made very great 
 havoc on the borders of the said county. But, since 
 my arrival in these parts, I have heard of no further 
 damage from them, God be thanked ! But I am in- 
 formed for certain that they are assembled with all 
 their power, and keep themselves together for some 
 important object ; and, as it is said, to the said county. 
 For this reason I have sent for my beloved cousins, 
 my Lord Richard of York, and the Earl Marshal, and 
 others, the most considerable persons of the counties 
 of that inarch, to be with me at Worcester on the 
 Tuesday next after the date of this letter, to inform 
 me plainly of the government of their districts, and 
 
HENRY OF MONNOTJTH. 207 
 
 how many men they will be able to bring, if need be ; 
 and to give me advice as to what may seem to them 
 best to be done for the safeguard of the aforesaid parts. 
 And, agreeably to their advice, I will do all I possibly 
 can to resist the rebels and save the English country, 
 as God shall give me grace, trusting in your high 
 Majesty to remember my poor estate, and that I have 
 not the means of continuing here without the adop- 
 tion of some other measures for my maintenance, and 
 the expenses are insupportable to me. And may you 
 thus make an ordinance for me with speed, that I may 
 do good service to your honor and the preservation 
 of my humble estate. 
 
 " My dread sovereign lord and father, may the all- 
 powerful Lord of Heaven and Earth grant you a bless- 
 ed and long life in all good prosperity to your satis- 
 faction. 
 
 " "Written at "Worcester the 26th day of June, 1404. 
 u Your humble and obedient son, 
 
 "Heney P." 
 
 The active, devout, and filial spirit of the Prince 
 pervades this excellent letter, written at the age of 
 sixteen, and in the midst of a military campaign. It 
 clearly shows that the mind of the young general was 
 not at this time, at least, bent upon such frivolities as 
 have been charged against him. Making all allow- 
 ance for the necessarily formal and extravagant ex- 
 pressions which princes in those days used in address- 
 ing each other, this letter breathes an unmistakable 
 piety and reliance on God, a sincere devotion to the 
 royal interests, and a due affection for his father. 
 
 The war in "Wales continued in that irregular man- 
 ner which it might be supposed to assume, from the 
 
208 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 fact that the aggressions were sudden in advance and 
 retreat, and that Glendower was too cautious to en- 
 gage in the open field with the Prince whose title he 
 claimed. Throughout the summer of 1404 castles 
 were taken and recovered, towns sacked and deserted, 
 fields stripped of their harvests, and ships captured 
 and devoted to the uses of the insurgents. Prince 
 Henry so well defended the county of Hereford, 
 which had suffered more than any other district at 
 the hands of Glendower, that the gentry petitioned 
 the King that he would publicly thank him. The 
 Council, much perplexed in what manner to raise 
 money to support a campaign so necessary, met often 
 to solve the difficulty, and raised as best they could 
 small sums at a time. Loans were made on fines and 
 taxes not yet due. Levies were demanded through- 
 out the counties contiguous to the scene of contest. 
 The war dragged along through the fall, with the same 
 various fortune as before. The French occasionally 
 sent reinforcements to Owen, but less and less fre- 
 quently. About Christmas time a French armament 
 landed on the Isle of Wight, boasting that they would 
 there hold their Christmas feast. The islanders final- 
 ly drove them off, however, and they were forced to 
 resort to hovering about the coast to vent their ill- 
 will. As winter advanced, the scene of war was grad- 
 ually removed to the northern border ; the Prince had 
 been making a slow but steady progress upon the 
 enemy, so that they had retreated northward. The 
 alarm in Carnarvon and Chester was very great, and 
 with good reason. The same process of stripping the 
 country naked occurred in the north, that we have 
 seen in (lie southern shires. The Prince, still follow- 
 ing up his enemy with activity and effect, continued 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 209 
 
 to "be embarrassed for want of money and men. In a 
 letter, dated January 27th, 1405, he represents his 
 position to the King in the following spirited manner: 
 
 " 2^ January, 1405. 
 
 "My very redoubtable and sovereign Lord and 
 Father : 
 " I commend me unto you as humbly and obedient- 
 ly with my whole heart as in any way I know or 
 can, always beseeching you for your gracious bless- 
 ing. My redoubtable and sovereign lord and father, 
 may it please your Highness to know, that this day I 
 am informed for truth by divers of my spies and by 
 the marchers of this country, that Rees Gethyn and 
 other your rebels of his clan are making large muster- 
 ings of people within the county of Radnor, and pur- 
 pose to enter with their forces into the county of 
 Hereford, and the marches round about, in order to 
 lay them waste, if they be not resisted. May it please 
 your Highness to know that the sheriff and sub-sheriff 
 of the said county of Hereford, and the greater part 
 of the gentlemen, are at present in London and in 
 other places in England ; so that, on account of their 
 absence, the same county is very feeble to resist the 
 malice of the said rebels, if other remedy be not in 
 time provided. So I humbly supplicate your Majes- 
 ty, that you be pleased to remember so graciously my- 
 self, your very humble son, and to order that I may 
 in time have such sufficiency of force in my company, 
 that I may be strong enough to resist and chastise 
 your said rebels, and to do you the best service to 
 your honor according to your gracious commands ; to 
 perform and accomplish which, I shall be ready and 
 obedient all my life, according to my little ability. 
 
 14 
 
210 IIENTJY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 "My very redoubtable and sovereign lord and 
 father, I pray the blessed Trinity, that He will deign 
 to grant, of His holy grace, to you a joyous and long 
 life, with a happy accomplishment of all your honor- 
 able desires. 
 
 " Written at your city of Hereford, the 2'Tth day 
 of January, by 
 
 " Your very humble and obedient son, 
 
 " Henet P." 
 
 Comparing this letter with the previous one, we 
 are able to discern an improvement of style, display- 
 ing a more systematic habit of mind, and a quicker 
 appreciation of the important matter with which he 
 was intrusted. The expressions toward the King are 
 less formal, less restricted to royal etiquette. He 
 seems to have become accustomed to the serious occu- 
 pation of his destined life, and to have given undi- 
 vided zeal to the work before him. "We do not find, 
 in the authentic accounts of that period, that an hour 
 was wasted in conviviality or idle delay. The ap- 
 proval of his lieutenants, the fear with which he in- 
 spired the foe, and the ardent gratitude Avhich he 
 called forth from the community which he strove to 
 defend, alike demonstrate the faithfulness and vigor 
 of his career. Shakspeare, whose historical errors 
 are to be as much guarded against as his pictures of 
 character and heroic scenes are to be admired, with 
 even his tendency to describe Henry's earlier years as 
 frivolous, makes him put on the dignity of his rank, 
 and tlic sobriety of manly honor, from the time of the 
 battle (if Shrewsbury. It is enough to consider his 
 age and his deeds as they are recorded, to be convinced 
 that the Prince was no longer, if indeed he ever was, 
 
HENRY OE MONMOUTH. 211 
 
 the noisy and licentious rioter which he is described 
 to have been by careless writers. On the other hand, 
 he is known to have brought into his military life 
 those admirable traits of patience, mercy, impartiality, 
 sympathy, and readiness to receive counsel, which so 
 graced both his childhood and his manhood. The 
 hardy soldiers who had learned to love him as he rode 
 down their rants in the earlier Welsh troubles, who 
 had witnessed his first essay as an actual leader on 
 Hateley Field, who now received daily evidence of his 
 tender care and affection, taught their posterity his 
 manifold virtues, and sent down by tradition the proofs 
 that he united every faculty of a great general. 
 
 No decisive action took place between the forces 
 under the two Princes of Wales until the spring of 
 1405. In March the scene of conflict was shifted again 
 to the southern border, and Henry started from Mon- 
 mouth in pursuit of the invaders. He came upon them 
 at the small town of Grosmont, near the southwest 
 boundary of Wales, and there gained a triumphant 
 victory, which gave the heaviest blow to Glendower 
 which he had yet received. The letter in which he 
 eonveys the news of this fortunate event is one of 
 great interest, and well worthy of being preserved as 
 a credit to the youthful victor : 
 
 " March 11, 1405. 
 
 " My most redoubted and most sovereign Lord and 
 Father : 
 " In my most humble manner that in my heart I 
 can devise, I commend myself to your royal Majesty, 
 humbly requesting your gracious blessing. I sincerely 
 pray that God will graciously show His miraculous 
 aid towards you in all places ; praised be He in all 
 
212 IIENKY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 His works! For, on Wednesday, the eleventh day 
 of this present month of March, your rebels of the 
 parts of Glamorgan, Morgannoc, U&k, Netherwent, 
 and Overwent, were assembled to the number of eight 
 thousand men, according to their own account ; and 
 they went on the said Wednesday, in the morning, 
 and burnt part of your town of Grosmont, withiu 
 your lordship of Monmouth ; and I immediately sent 
 off my very dear cousin, the Lord Talbot, and a small 
 body of my own household, and with them joined 
 your faithful and gallant knight William Newport 
 and John Greindre, who were but a very small force 
 in all. But very true it is, that victory is not in a 
 multitude of people, but in the power of God ; and 
 this was well proved there ; and there, by the aid of 
 the blessed Trinity, your people gained the field, and 
 slew of them (by fair account), on the field, some say 
 eight hundred, and some say a thousand, being ques- 
 tioned on pain of death. Nevertheless, whether on 
 such an account it was one or the other, I would not 
 contend. 
 
 " And, to inform you fully of all that has been 
 done, I send you a person worthy of credit in this case, 
 my faithful servant, the bearer of this letter, who was 
 present at the engagement, and did his duty very 
 satisfactorily, as he does on all occasions. And such 
 amends hath God ordained you for the burning of 
 four houses of your said town ! And prisoners there 
 were none taken, excepting one, who was a great chief- 
 tain amongst them, whom I would have sent to you, 
 but lie cannot yet ride at his ease. 
 
 " And touching the governance I purpose to make 
 after thin, plea.se your Highness to give your sure ere- 
 deuce to the hearer of this letter in whatever he shall 
 
HENEY OE MONMOUTH. 213 
 
 lay before your Highness on my part. And I pray God 
 that He will always preserve you in joy and honor, 
 and grant me shortly to comfort you with other good 
 news. Written at Hereford, the said "Wednesday, 
 11th March, at night. 
 
 " Your very humble and obedient son, 
 
 "Henry P." 
 
 This letter the King sent to his lords in council, 
 and its contents were by them communicated to the 
 lord mayor and citizens of London. The news was 
 received with enthusiastic joy, both at the humiliation 
 of the audacious Welshman, and at the rising fame of 
 their beloved Prince. 
 
 The admirable sentiments expressed in the fore- 
 going epistle will approve themselves to every mind. 
 We cannot forbear presenting still another letter, 
 written soon after the one just given, to the lords in 
 council, in which the Prince gives a yet more particu- 
 lar account of his operations in Wales. 
 
 " Very deae and entirely beloved : 
 
 " We greet you much from our whole heart, thank- 
 ing you very sincerely for the kind attention you 
 have given to our wants during our absence ; and we 
 pray you very earnestly the continuance of your good 
 and friendly services, as our trust is in you. 
 
 " As to news from these parts, if you wish to hear 
 of what has taken place, we were lately informed that 
 Owen Grlendower had assembled his forces, and those 
 of other rebels, his adherents, in great numbers, pur- 
 posing to commit inroads ; and, in case of resistance to 
 any of his plans on the part of the English, to come 
 
-1-1 IIENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 to battle with them ; and so he boasted to his own 
 people. Wherefore we took our men, and went to a 
 plaee of the said Owen, well built, which was his chief 
 mansion, called Saghern, where Ave thought we should 
 have found him, if he wished to fight, as he said. 
 And, on our arrival there, we found no person ; and 
 we caused the whole place to be set on fire, and many 
 other houses round it, belonging to his tenants. And 
 then Ave went straight to his other place of Glyndour- 
 dy, to seek for .him there. There we burnt a fine 
 lodge in his park, and the whole country round ; and 
 we remained there all that night. And certain of our 
 people sallied forth, and took a gentleman of high de- 
 gree of that country, who "was one of the said Owen's 
 chieftains. This person offered five hundred pounds 
 for his ransom, to save his life, and to pay that sum 
 within two weeks. Nevertheless, that was not ac- 
 cepted, and he was put to death ; and several of his 
 companions who were taken on the same day met 
 with the same fate. We then proceeded to the corn- 
 more (dwelling) of Edernyon, in Merionethshire, and 
 there laid waste a fine and populous country. Thence 
 we went to Powys ; and there being in Wales a want 
 of provender for horses, we made our people carry 
 oats with them ; and we tarried there some days. 
 And, to give you fuller information of this expedi- 
 tion, and all other news from these parts, at present 
 we send to you our well-beloved esquire, ,lohn de 
 Waterton, to whom you will be pleased to give entire 
 faith and credence in what he shall report to you, on 
 <>ur part, with respect to ihc above-mentioned affair. 
 
 " And may our Lord have you always in His holy 
 keeping! (liven under our signet at Shrewsbury, the 
 15th day of May." 
 
HENEY OF MONMOUTH. 215 
 
 The battle of Grosmont was the last one of im- 
 portance which Prince Henry fought with the "Welsh. 
 It decided the superiority of the English troops, and 
 Glendower did not permit his men to fight another 
 battle in the open field. Meanwhile, as the letter just 
 given shows, Henry advanced into the "Welsh coun- 
 try for a considerable distance, spreading destruction 
 where he went. The exceeding difficulty with which 
 means were forthcoming, to support the contest, em- 
 barrassed him. The Council, with every exertion, 
 could not place him above the constraint which a con- 
 stant want of provision and equipment put upon his 
 movements. Had he received the necessary support, 
 wc may conjecture that the war, which continued so 
 long in desultory operations, would have been brought 
 to a successful termination long before it was. But 
 despite this difficulty, the Prince persevered in his 
 pursuit of the arch-rebel, and effectually reduced him 
 at length to a defensive position. 
 
 A new cause of embarrassment now arose, in 
 the latter part of May, to reduce the royal ex- 
 chequer to still further straits. The rebellion of 
 Scroop, Percy, and Bardolph absorbed the whole 
 attention of the King, and he was compelled to 
 take the field with every possible resource to over- 
 come this audacious attempt against his throne. 
 Henry had already started with an army to join and 
 cooperate with his son against Glendower, and had 
 reached "Worcester on his march westward, when the 
 tidings from the north constrained him to alter his 
 direction. Before, however, he departed to suppress 
 this new and alarming disaffection, he enjoined the 
 council to use every effort to support the heir appa- 
 rent in the west ; to devote the taxes derived from 
 
-1G HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 Wales entirely to his use ; to grant him the income 
 from the estate of Mowbray of Norfolk, which had 
 been confiscated; and to equip and despatch to him 
 men-at-arms as fast as they could be levied. Through- 
 out the year 1405 the Prince kept steadily at his post, 
 able to do little more than protect the border coun- 
 ties, and prevent the junction of Glendower with the 
 other enemies of the dynast) 7 , who were constantly 
 seeking the consolidation of the hostile parties. Henry's 
 enemies, however, as each rebellion in turn succumbed 
 to his promptness and energy, became less and less 
 hopeful of success, until they were finally fain to leave 
 him some years of comparative quiet before he left 
 the crown to his successor. 
 
 Early in the spring of 1406, Beaufort was desired 
 by the King to negotiate an alliance of marriage 
 between the Prince of Wales and a daughter of 
 the House of Valois. The court of Charles the 
 Well-Beloved, however, were so bitterly inimical 
 to the Lancastrian dynasty, that they rejected all 
 propositions for bringing any closer the ties between 
 the families — a course which subsequent events 
 proved to have been any thing but wise. Heniy 
 of Monmouth afterward so altered the relations be- 
 tween the nations, that a French princess who had 
 once been refused to him, was offered to him with 
 eagerness as a willing hostage for French obedience. 
 Greater powers were given to the Prince in this year, 
 both of command and mercy, than he had ever before 
 possessed. He was created Lieutenant of Wales; the 
 revenues of the castles of Brecknock, Kidwelly, Mon- 
 mouth, and Ogmoro were ceded to him ; the discretion 
 of pardoning rebels, according to his sole judgment, 
 was granted (<> him ; and what, must have been equally 
 
HE1STRY OF MONMOUTH. 217 
 
 gratifying to father and son, the council begged the 
 King to convey their thanks and approval to the 
 Prince, for the patience with which he had encounter- 
 ed obstacles, the vigor which he had displayed, and 
 the pertinacity by which he had accomplished that 
 which he had been designated to perform. 
 
 No school of discipline could have been more 
 excellent, indeed, for the education of a military 
 leader than that to which Prince Henry was year 
 after year subjected in his lieutenancy. Every hard- 
 ship of war, with but poor compensation in brilliant 
 achievement; every opportunity to-be a tyrant; 
 every facility for indulging in indolent pleasure, if 
 he would return to London, and abandon his enter- 
 prise; the most bitter trials of patience, self-denial, 
 will, presence of mind, established habits ; discourage- 
 ments daily appalling ; inspiration from victory very 
 little; constant complaint from the army; seeming 
 neglect from the court ; an enemy not regardful of 
 humane warfare ; a daily life ; of hurry, unexpected 
 obstacles, and ever increasing privations — herein 
 was the training which made a hero fit for Agin- 
 court. 
 
 The attention of Parliament, however, after the 
 rebellion of Scroop and Percy had been thoroughly 
 crushed, was gradually directed toward the only 
 quarter in which the now strongly confirmed dynasty 
 of Henry the Fourth was resisted. The martial 
 virtues of the heir began to attract their notice, and 
 the difficulties of his situation to be appreciated. 
 The people, too, no longer excited by the prospect of 
 civil war, turned their eyes to the west, and the 
 praises of young Henry were sounded in every part 
 of the kingdom. The reward of his patient perse- 
 
218 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 veranee was to be, after all, not in sudden and 
 brilliant victory, but in the gradual growth of esteem 
 in those, whom in time he would be called upon to 
 govern. 
 
 Many petitions came to Parliament relating to 
 the Prince ; among other requests was one that the 
 legislature should, now that the house of Lancaster 
 had fully established itself by worthy deeds, once 
 more confirm his title to the succession. Accordingly, 
 in June, 1406, an act was passed without a dissenting 
 voice, declaring Henry of Monmouth to be the heir 
 apparent to the throne of England ; and next after 
 him, the three younger sons of the King — Clarence, 
 Bedford, and Gloucester — were declared to be in the 
 line of succession, in the order given. The Salic law, 
 prohibiting females from the throne, was not ap- 
 proved, and therefore the Princesses Blanche and 
 Philippa had the reversion on the failure of the male 
 line. This act was passed soon after the King's 
 return from the Scroop rebellion. The circumstances 
 by which it was attended were especially compliment- 
 ary of the Prince. 
 
 The Speaker of the House of Commons addressed 
 the King, sitting upon the throne, in praise of the 
 qualities of his son. The speech clearly confirms 
 Henry's salient traits as described to us by the 
 chroniclers, and disproves the multitude of charges 
 against his character, which fashion, more than authen- 
 tic records, has made popular, and to support which 
 no other authority than faint tradition, that twin 
 sister of Rumor, can be found. The Speaker, Sir John 
 Tiptoft (the same who had before been so bold as to 
 lcelure the King on his shortcomings), referred to 
 the humility and obedience which the Prince con- 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 219 
 
 stantly displayed to his royal father ; " so that there 
 can "be no person, of any degree whatever, who enter- 
 tains or shows more reverence and honor of humble- 
 ness and obedience to his father, than he shows in 
 his honorable person." He extolled his courage and 
 cheerfulness of heart under difficulty. He called 
 attention to the confidence which the Prince put in 
 his advisers, readily giving up his own plans when 
 others suggested better ones ; and so subduing his will, 
 that the kingdom might hope excellent things from 
 his self-control, and from his reverence for the wis- 
 dom and discretion of those who were called to his 
 councils. 
 
 These praises may perhaps be taken with a grain 
 of allowance, considering the usually adulatory tone 
 of addresses to the throne. But when we recollect 
 that the sentiments recorded came from the lips of a 
 man who was fearless in announcing his opinions, and 
 who had, with unheard-of audacity, dared to call maj- 
 esty to account for misrule, in the plainest and most 
 forcible language; and when we consider, too, that 
 the qualities expatiated upon are abundantly illus- 
 trated by the plain record of facts which relate to this 
 portion of the Prince's career, we seem entirely drawn 
 to the conclusion that Tiptoft rendered little more 
 than justice to the subject of his panegyric. It is at 
 all events an echo of the universal sentiment of both 
 people and Parliament; and its sincerity is all the 
 more patent, from the fact that it was not an ordinary 
 custom to present addresses of that character. It is 
 worthy of note that Sir John dwells with especial 
 emphasis on the fact that the Prince had apparently 
 conquered himself. His will was under the control 
 of his judgment, ' and his self-government seems to 
 
220 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 have been a habit. That so young a man, exposed 
 from infancy to the vanities of praise and indulgence, 
 should learn this great lesson, so vital to a successful 
 commander, seems indeed admirable, and is to be re- 
 garded with higher approval than even the splendid 
 career which it aided him in pursuing. He received 
 the intelligence of this tribute to his virtues with 
 modest delight ; and was the more inspired to perse- 
 vere in his rugged task, when he felt that the eyes of 
 all were turned toward him, in the full assurance that 
 his part would be Avell done. 
 
 The temporary exhaustion of Glendower gave him 
 an opportunity to return to the metropolis and join 
 his counsels with those of his father, toward the close 
 of the year 140G. He presided over the council at dif- 
 ferent times, and seems to have been regarded, at the 
 age of eighteen, as fully competent to be one of the 
 advisers of the Crown. In qualities of statesmanship 
 he was found to be wise beyond his years; and 
 after he had once joined in deliberations of state, he 
 attended regularly to the civil duties which now 
 devolved upon him. There is some evidence that the 
 noblemen who were ill-affected toward the King (for 
 there were such) sought to put the Prince at the head 
 of the opposition; and to that fact may be referred 
 the traditions of the disagreements between the royal 
 father and son. Meanwhile the King seems to have 
 gradually withdrawn himself from public affairs, and 
 to have intrusted the chief management of them to 
 Prince Henry. Bolingbroke was not a man to be 
 generally popular, although no one knew better when 
 io yield and when to insist, and the manner of doing 
 each ; his temper was not of that sort to elicit warm 
 ailed ion, however much respect his remarkable ability 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 221 
 
 might command. When the rebellions were all sub- 
 dued, he turned his mind toward religious subjects, and 
 his thoughts seem to have become melancholy and 
 despondent. The altercations with his Parliament, 
 though they never ended in a serious break, were fre- 
 quent, and galled a monarch of so much spirit and 
 pride. One of his highest qualities was the power to 
 subdue his natural impulses, that he might save the 
 dynasty. These altercations usually left Henry in bad 
 humor, and the legislature in a grumbling mood. The 
 King grew prematurely old under the unusual weight 
 of his cares, and the anxieties which would naturally 
 depress one who held his crown by an uncertain ten- 
 ure. At forty he had both the appearance and the 
 manner of a man of sixty ; his hair and beard gray, 
 his face wrinkled, his step feeble, his speech querulous 
 and sharp. He was no longer the athletic and majestic 
 Bolingbroke who had ridden placidly through the 
 streets of London as the prince of the people's choice. 
 He was now an old, careworn, melancholy King, 
 remorseful of his crimes, yet with an intellect still 
 vigorous, and a royal power undiminished by all the 
 tempests which had striven to sweep it away. It was 
 time, then, that the youthful heir, in the freshness of 
 his fame, should remove from the enfeebled King 
 some of the grave cares of state, that he should begin 
 to receive some training as a statesman as well as a 
 soldier, that the true caliber of his mind might de dis- 
 covered and improved by the counsel of older men.' 
 The King may have felt some jealousy at observing 
 the contrast between the manner in which he was re- 
 garded, and the overwhelming popularity of his son. 
 He may have exhibited the feeling by an occasional 
 display of spleen. But that he was other than a true 
 
222 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 parental friend to the Prince, is not sustained by au- 
 thority. He trusted in young Henry, made him his 
 confidant, was assured of his ability to assume at so 
 early an age the dignity of a royal counsellor, and 
 encouraged him in the pursuit of practices and studies 
 best fitted to make him a successful Prince, beloved 
 and respected by his people. 
 
 After Prince Henry's return to London in the fall 
 of 1406, he never resumed the regular command in 
 "Wales. To be sure, he went to Wales and fought the 
 rebels at various times in 1407, but his residence was 
 fixed at London, and his presence in the west was 
 only occasional, and each time brief. The power of 
 Owen Glendower was on the wane. The battle of 
 Grosmont and other frequent mishaps had crippled 
 his energies, and the French no longer sent him men 
 and provisions to sustain the rebellion. He could do 
 little more than keep up a desultory warfare on the 
 border ; he could not now advance into 'the English 
 counties. Owen himself seems to have in a manner 
 retired from the command, and to have delegated his 
 authority to a brave lieutenant, Rees ap Griffith, who 
 was not, however, inclined to resume that rash mode 
 of warfare which had made Owen so famed a leader. 
 The troubles in the west ceased to occasion much 
 alarm, and it was not considered necessary that Henry 
 should be there. 
 
 During the autumn of the year 1407, the Prince 
 of Wales set out on an expedition to Scotland. 
 The narrative of this affair is told so succinctly 
 and pithily by Monstrelet, that we Anil quote it 
 verbatim. "Then it is the truth,'' says the quaint 
 chronicler, "that at this time, 1407, about the Feast 
 of All Saints, Henry Prince of Wales mustered an 
 
HENBY OF MONMOUTH. 223 
 
 army of one thousand men-at-arms and six thousand 
 archers ; among whom were his two uncles, the Duke 
 of York, the Earl of Dorset, the Lords Morteinos, de 
 Beaumont, de Ros, and Cornwall, together with many- 
 other noblemen, who all marched toward Scotland, 
 chiefly because the Scots had lately broken the truce 
 between the two kingdoms, and done great damage 
 by fire and sword in the duchy of Lancaster, and the 
 district round Roxburghe. The Scots were not aware 
 of their approach till they were near at hand, and had 
 committed great devastation. As soon as the King 
 of Scotland (who was at the town of Perth, in the 
 middle of his kingdom) heard of it, he issued orders 
 immediately to his chiefs ; and in a few days a powerful 
 army was assembled, which he sent under the com- 
 mand of the Earl of Douglas and Buchan toward the 
 marches. But when they were within six leagues, 
 they learnt that the English were too strong for them. 
 They consequently sent ambassadors to the Prince of 
 "Wales and his council, who brought about a renewal 
 of the truce for a year ; and thus the aforesaid Prince 
 of Wales, having done much damage in Scotland, re- 
 turned into England, and the Scotch dismissed their 
 army." This campaign, so rapid and successful, dem- 
 onstrates both the vigor and the magnanimity of 
 Prince Henry. He got close to his enemy before they 
 were aware of it ; he gave the weaker Scots, almost in 
 his power, and the aggressive party in the first in- 
 stance, liberal terms of peace, thus subduing in his 
 own breast both revenge and thirst of glory. When 
 he had reached England again, he repaired to Glouces- 
 ter, where his father was holding court, and where the 
 Parliament was in session. The appearance of the 
 Prince, bringing with him the welcome tidings that 
 
2lM HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 there was pence on the northern border, gave an oc- 
 casion to Parliament, of. which they hastened to take 
 advantage, to thank him for his brilliant service, and 
 to express their appreciation of his worth. 
 
 Henry seized this favorable moment to do a kind 
 and gracious act for one who had done him consider- 
 able service, and who had been the victim of a malig- 
 nant kinswoman. The Duke of York had been charged 
 by Lady de Spencer, who was doubtless herself the 
 guilty person, with the attempt to effect the escape of 
 the young Earl of March from Windsor Castle. The 
 proofs of his complicity were confined to her declara- 
 tion; and she had a bitter hostility toward York, 
 which, with anxiety for her own safety, was suffi- 
 cient to account for her story. York had been seized. 
 and his estates confiscated. The Prince of Wales, 
 confident of the good nature of the King and Parlia- 
 ment, ii( >w besought as a favor to himself, that York 
 should be released. He had been his companion in 
 arms in AVales, and had attended him as one of the 
 lieutenants of the expedition into Scotland. He urged 
 that he was thoroughly acquainted with the Duke's 
 disposition; that his loyalty and attachment to the 
 house ( >f Lancaster had been abundantly tested ; that 
 he was confident of his innocence of this or any bad 
 intention toward the Crown ; and that his services 
 were too valuable to be lost to the council and the 
 field. The result of this generous petition was the 
 release of York, and his restoration to his former 
 property and dignities. Parliament were so well 
 pleased, tliat before they adjourned, they passed a 
 vote, that those who Mere faithful to Prince Henry 
 Hhouhl lie rewarded, and those who deserted him 
 should l>e punished. 
 
HENRY OP MONMOUTH. 225 
 
 The year 1408 was for the most part passed by the 
 Prince in attendance on the council, making regulations 
 for the government of "Wales, and assisting his father 
 in the manifold cares of royalty. So great was the 
 calm which succeeded the tempests of rebellion and 
 invasion, that there are few items of interest to be 
 gathered from this year's record. Lord Thomas of 
 Lancaster, the second son of King Henry, was appoint- 
 ed Viceroy of Ireland, and the Prince of "Wales took 
 an active part in the settlement of that office on his 
 brother. Early in 1409, the young Earl of March, 
 the rival heir to the throne, whose descendants after- 
 ward became Kings under the House of York, was 
 given over to Prince Henry, to be kept by him in 
 custody. It is unnecessary to say that the custodian 
 treated the prisoner with every kindness and gener- 
 osity. A friendship sprung up between these rivals 
 which made it possible, when Henry came to the 
 throne, that the Earl of March should be set at liberty, 
 and become one of the supporters of a throne set up 
 in place of that of which he should have been by reg- 
 ular succession the occupant. 
 
 After a comparative quiet of several years, Glen- 
 dower again resumed his depredations upon Eng- 
 land; but it does not appear that Prince Henry 
 after this time went to defend the border in per- 
 son. Castles, cathedrals, ecclesiastical and baro- 
 nial domains, fell one after another into the rebel's 
 hands, and fresh armaments had to be sent for- 
 ward to resist them. But the formidable prowess 
 which Owen had once wielded was now wanting. 
 He was easily driven into the mountains. He could 
 no longer pit his rude yeomanry against the well- 
 drilled soldiers of the royal army. York, Arundel, 
 15 
 
-20 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 Grey, Warwick, found the difficulty not great of clear- 
 ing English noil of its invaders. Yet the indomitable 
 spirit of Glendower would not rest. As years passed 
 on, and his hair grew gray, ever and anon would still 
 come startling stories of his temerity and rapidity of 
 attack and retreat. Truces would be made, only to 
 be broken in the next month, or the next week. The 
 war, however, gradually sank again into insignificance. 
 Owen Glendower himself outlived the discontents 
 which he had done so much to foment. He became 
 a houseless, poverty-stricken, bereaved old man. He 
 had lost, during these long years of conflict, his lands, 
 his houses, his brothers, his friends. His wife and 
 children were captives in the hands of the monarch 
 whom he had so gravely injured His last years were 
 passed in obscurity and gloom. It is believed that he 
 found an asylum in the humble cottage of a lifelong 
 adherent, who now had compassion on the deserted 
 and disappointed chief. After Henry had returned 
 from his victory of Agincourt, he sent Sir Gilbert 
 Talbot to Wales to search out Owen Glendower, and 
 Meredith his son, to offer them the full and entire 
 pardon of the King, and to solicit their allegiance to 
 the crown. The object of the mission was not ac- 
 complished. Probably the haughty spirit of the great 
 rebel revolted at the idea of seeking a pardon in his 
 old age. The date of his death is not known. But 
 it is known that he lived his last days in miserable 
 repining for glories long past, and in that bitter mel- 
 ancholy which arises from an ambitious career whose 
 object has not been reached. That Glendower possess- 
 ed many admirable traits, is most true. That he 
 sincerely desired the prosperity of Wales, that his 
 motive for claiming the "Welsh sovereignty had some 
 
HENET OP MONMOUTH. 227 
 
 good objects in mind, that he had the qualities which 
 eminently fitted him to be the leader of a revolution, 
 cannot "be doubted. His learning was conspicuous, his 
 mind cultivated, his perseverance wonderful, his energy 
 sleepless, his courage terrible, his endurance hardy, 
 and his resources marvellous. But, heroic as was his 
 character, we cannot hide from our view the dark side 
 of his career ; and it must be confessed that the dark 
 side overshadows the bright side. Those qualities 
 which have made him famous were directed to wicked 
 purposes, were devoted to unworthy ends. Glendower 
 was perfidious, he was cruel, he was a ruthless and 
 barbarous rebel. It was not necessary to the integrity 
 of Wales, that the peaceful valleys of Hereford, and 
 the beautiful slopes on the Wye, should be made des- 
 olate ; that women and children should be starved 
 and driven from their homes ; that consecrated cathe- 
 drals should totter beneath the torch and the axe of 
 brutal barbarians. The charges to which Glendower 
 has to answer are, principally, the useless devasta- 
 tions, the perfidious alliances with English rebels and 
 French enemies, the violations of good faith, and a 
 treason which only ceased with the capacity to resist. 
 He rather rebelled because of his personal injuries, 
 than from love of country; and he was eager to grasp 
 the crown of Wales before the time was ripe for such 
 an act. He used his power without scruple or re- 
 morse, and was little more, for years, than a bandit 
 in his depredations on England. The calm judgment 
 of history, on the whole, must be pronounced against 
 this renowned hero, who is called by some, that forget 
 his great crimes, the best and noblest of Welsh patri- 
 ots; but who, in the light now shed upon his history, 
 must be regarded as a marauder, a hypocrite, and a 
 
~-S HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 murderer, whose superior culture only magnified the 
 atrocity of liis evil deeds. 
 
 Henry, the Prince, became more and more identified 
 with the civil administration as the years went on. 
 In 1409 he was nominated Warden of the Cinque 
 Ports. The Cinque Ports are five ports on the south- 
 east coast toward France, especially strong as defences 
 against invasion. They are the towns of Hastings, 
 Romney, Hythe, Dover, and Sandwich. So much im- 
 portance was attached by the earlier Kings to their 
 value as bulwarks of the national safety, that special 
 privileges were granted to their inhabitants ; and they 
 were required, in return, to furnish a certain number 
 of ships in time of war. The Warden, which Henry 
 became, was the governor of these towns, and had, and 
 lias still, an excellent salary. The appointment was 
 doubtless made to replenish the Prince's exchequer, 
 which was exceedingly scant of funds, and seems to 
 have embarrassed him very much. At the same time 
 he was made Constable of Dover, which brought him 
 a salary of three hundred pounds, and was a life office. 
 The following March he received the appointment of 
 Captain of Calais, that town being then a possession 
 of the English crown, and about the same time he be- 
 came President of the royal council of State. He 
 was now twenty-two years of age; but a large ex- 
 perience both in the field and at the metropolis had 
 already given him weight much beyond his years. 
 
 During the year 140'.), several efforts were made to 
 find him a suitable wife, but all were vain. The 
 King manifested much solicitude on this point, and 
 wns anxious that (lie succession of the dynasty should 
 be secured. The Prince, however, was in no great 
 haste to taste of conjugal felicity, and discouraged the 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 229 
 
 negotiations which were set on foot to bring about 
 that event. An attempt was made to form an alliance 
 with a princess of the House of Denmark, but both sides 
 soon gave up the scheme as impracticable. King 
 Henry afterward sent Hugh Mortimer to Paris, with 
 a view to induce King Charles to consent to a marriage 
 between the Prince of "Wales and a daughter of the 
 House of Valois. The envoy met with a prompt re- 
 fusal, and the scheme was, upon this second reverse, 
 dropped. The Prince was by no means wanting in 
 gallantry toward the gentler sex. His chivalrous ad- 
 miration of them, and his fondness for their society, 
 are celebrated in more than one poem of the day. His 
 objection to the marriages proposed to him was, that 
 he wished to choose for himself, and was content to 
 wait until a princess who suited him should appear. 
 The King seems to have been not a little annoyed by 
 the tardiness of his son in this respect. 
 
 This was the period during which the adventures 
 with such characters as Falstaff and his fellows, as 
 humorously depicted by the dramatist, are said to 
 have taken place. It is probable that these stories 
 have something of a foundation in truth. The Prince, 
 however, certainly did not, as the tradition implies, 
 abandon himself to vice and frivolity. He still held 
 his councils, made journeys to Calais, enjoyed the inti- 
 macy of religious men, and approved himself to the 
 good- will of the people. His younger brothers, Tho- 
 mas and John, are accused, doubtless with justice, 
 of having engaged in unseemly riots, and of disturb- 
 ing the neighborhood with street fights and midnight 
 sallies ; but Prince Henry was in no way implicated, 
 as far as can be discovered. It might be said that if 
 he did mingle in such scenes, contemporary writers 
 
>30 
 
 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 would hesitate to record the fact, were it not that such 
 conduct would have been wholly inconsistent with his 
 character and daily life, as universally described in 
 the old histories. That he did, however, indulge to a 
 moderate degree in the dissipations of his day, is un- 
 doubtedly true. On one occasion a disturbance took 
 place near Coldharbour, arising out of a rencontre be- 
 tween the Princes Thomas and John, and some of the 
 to-wnspeople. Stowe gives us an interesting account 
 of this incident, in the following words : " In the year 
 1410, upon the eve of St. John the Baptist, the King's 
 sons, Thomas and John, being in East-Cheap at sup- 
 per, or rather at breakfast (for it was after the watch 
 was broken up, betwixt two and three of the clock 
 after midnight), a great debate happened between 
 their men and other of the court, which lasted an 
 hour, even till the mayor and sheriffs, with other citi- 
 zens, appeased the same ; for the which afterwards the 
 said mayor, aldermen, and sheriffs were sent for to an- 
 swer before the King; his sons and divers lords being 
 highly moved against the city. At which time Wil- 
 liam Gascoigne, chief justice, required the mayor and 
 aldermen, for the citizens, to put them in the King's 
 grace. Whereunto they answered that they had not 
 offended, but according to the law had done their best 
 in stinting debate and maintaining of the peace : upon 
 which answer the King remitted all his ire and dis- 
 missed them." 
 
 I Teniy's affection for his brothers is one of the most 
 beautiful traits of his character. No jealousy or un- 
 worthy feeling appears to have ever come between him 
 and the royal princes. His especial favorite was Prince 
 John, tlic third son of I lie King, afterward the Ke- 
 gi'iit Holfnid. For Thomas, his next younger brother, 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 231 
 
 he had that quiet and confiding friendship which a 
 similarity of age, tastes, and pursuits often creates 
 beween near kinsmen who are naturally thrown con- 
 stantly together. We have seen that Thomas had 
 been made Viceroy of Ireland. His government there 
 proved to be such that the council suggested to the 
 King to appoint a lieutenant, who should practically 
 supersede Prince Thomas. But Henry promptly in- 
 terceded with the King, at the same time urging his 
 brother to reform his administration. By the delicacy 
 and warmth with which he sought to reconcile the 
 misunderstanding between King Henry and Prince 
 Thomas, he effected his object; and the Viceroy was 
 not humiliated by being deprived of his office. 
 
 Prince Henry took up his residence in the mansion 
 called Coldharbour in the spring of 1410. This was 
 an elegant house belonging to the King, near East- 
 cheap, in the heart of the city. Here the council often 
 assembled ; and here, too, convivial meetings were fre- 
 quently held, in which the young host entertained a 
 miscellaneous company in right princely style, join- 
 ing with warm zest in the various games and amuse- 
 ments which were provided. 
 
 The followers of Wickliffe, called Lollards, greatly 
 increased in numbers and importance during the lat- 
 ter part of Henry the Fourth's reign. Many noble- 
 men and wealthy gentlemen joined their ranks, and 
 the defection from the priesthood became alarmingly 
 great. Archbishop Arundel urged the King to pur- 
 sue the leaders and to commit the detestable heretics 
 to the flames. But Henry hesitated to commence a 
 persecution which might involve the nation in civil 
 war. The House of Commons came up to Westmin- 
 ster inclined to favor the Lollards. They advised the 
 
-•■> 2 HENRY (»!«' MONMOUTH. 
 
 King to seize the revenues of the Church to replenish 
 the royal exchequer, and at the same time remonstrated 
 against the sternness of the laws against the Lollards. 
 This greatly enraged Henry, as well as Arundel, and 
 they fell upon the first victim which chance put in 
 their way. One Thomas Badby, a tailor from Wor- 
 cestershire, was apprehended as a heretic, and was 
 charged with having denied the corporeal presence in 
 the sacramental bread. He was condemned to the 
 stake. Prince Henry came to him, and, in the tender- 
 ness of his heart, besought him to recant. The he- 
 roic tailor was obdurate. When he was tied to the 
 stake, and the flames rose around his body, his shrieks 
 Avere terrible. The Prince, again and again, with tears 
 in his eyes, came near him as he was burning, and im- 
 plored him to abjure the heresy. "Abjure, abjure, 
 for Christ's sake ! " exclaimed he. But the victim was 
 deaf to the appeal, and died, firm to his belief, in dread- 
 ful agonies. 
 
 It was during these years of comparative leisure 
 that the Prince cultivated his taste for literature and 
 music. The poets of his day felt the benefit of his 
 countenance. He patronized and encouraged Lydgate 
 and Occleve, the most conspicuous of the rhymers ; 
 and is celebrated with high-flown gratitude in the 
 poems which they have left to posterity. He espe- 
 cially loved to delve into books of antiquities and 
 chivalric histories, and those traditions which pre- 
 served tales of knightly prowess and the memorable 
 1 tattles of the Crusades. He asked Lydgate to trans- 
 late the " Destruction of Troy," that it might be gen- 
 erally read : 
 
 " That I" Iitrii and tune, 
 The Bttirv openly were knowr." 
 
HENRY OP MONMOUTH. 233 
 
 He took an active interest in the drama, and often 
 plays were produced at court, wherein Henry took a 
 prominent part, suited to his temper and ambition. 
 Occleve, who was his favorite poet, as well as an inti- 
 mate friend, was a pupil of the great Chaucer, and 
 possessed much of his simplicity and quaintness of 
 fancy. On one occasion he addressed to his young 
 patron a poetical essay on the subject of government. 
 This production is yet extant, and, while it contains 
 the usual instalment of extravagant praise, has much 
 sound and practical advice. He tells the Prince to 
 preserve always good faith and greatness of soul ; 
 urges him to cultivate peace and content ; and warns 
 him to shun the vices of cruelty, falsehood, prodigality^ 
 flatteries, and avarice. So wise a coun seller doubt- 
 less exercised a good influence upon the Prince's char- 
 acter, and encouraged him to propose to himself worthy 
 ambitions in the future, which opened so brightly be- 
 fore him. 
 
 In the autumn of 1411, John the Fearless, Duke 
 of Burgundy, who had possession of the person of the 
 unfortunate Charles the Sixth, sought to recover Paris, 
 which was then under the control of the Armagnacs, 
 or Orleanists. Being well aware what good cause the 
 King of England had to hate the Duke of Orleans, 
 who had so insolently challenged him, the Duke John 
 conceived the idea of introducing foreign arms into 
 France, in order to restore the ostensible government 
 of Charles. He desired to conciliate Henry as grace- 
 fully as possible, and so brought to his purpose the 
 expedient of a matrimonial proposal, a usual cement 
 to heal old wounds in those days, which has not yet 
 entirely sunk into disuse. He appointed the Bishop 
 of Arras and the Provost of Saint Donat de Bruges 
 
234 
 
 IIENIiY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 envoys to the English court. They were instructed 
 to propose one of John's daughters as a princess suit- 
 able to form an alliance with the Prince of Wales. 
 The object of this embassy was very agreeable to 
 Henry's views. They were received by the court at 
 Rochester, and treated in all respects with regal hos- 
 pitality. The Prince of Wales seems to have favored 
 a scheme to marry him for the first time. He treated 
 the Burgundian prelates with cordial condescension, 
 provided entertainments for them, attended them in 
 person, and displayed by every act his kindly feel- 
 ings toward them. Having delivered to the King and 
 the Prince their message from the Duke John, the 
 royal response was returned in favorable terms. They 
 then departed, first having received many noble pres- 
 ents, and being set forward on their journey with 
 every comfort which royal munificence could provide. 
 This embassy was soon succeeded by one from 
 Heniy to the Duke of Burgundy, for the purpose of 
 making more especial arrangements for the union of 
 the two houses. The Bishop of St. Davids, Lord 
 Francis de Court, and the Earl of Arundel (the 
 nephew of the Primate) were intrusted with the mis- 
 sion. The instructions they received from the King's 
 council were as follows: "First, inasmuch as our 
 sovereign lord the King, by the report of the message 
 of the Duke of Burgundy, understood that the Duke 
 entertains a great affection and desire to have an alli- 
 ance with our said sovereign, by means of a marriage 
 to be contracted, (Jod willing, between our redoubted 
 lord the Prince and the daughter of the aforesaid 
 Duke: tlie King wishes that his said Ambassadors 
 should, first of all, demand of the Duke his daughter 
 to l>c given to my lord the Prince; and that after they 
 
HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 235 
 
 have heard what the Duke will offer on account of the 
 said marriage, whether "by grant of lands and posses- 
 sions, or of goods and jewels ; and according to the 
 greatest offer which by this negotiation might be made 
 by one party or the other, a report be made of that to 
 our said lord the King and our said lord the Prince, 
 by the Ambassadors." 
 
 This embassy was sent at the urgent solicitation, 
 it appears, of the Prince of Wales. Nor did he stop 
 here. Owing mainly to his influence, a force was sent 
 to cooperate with Burgundy in the siege of Paris. 
 From this line of conduct, we may infer that the 
 Prince was not only willing, but desirous to secure the 
 Burgundian princess as his bride. The consummation 
 of the marriage, however, was frustrated by the con- 
 duct of the Duke John himself. He led his army, 
 now strengthened by the English succors, against the 
 metropolis. At the bridge of St. Cloud he met Orleans, 
 defeated him, and entered Paris in triumph. After 
 this success, he ill treated and neglected those by whose 
 aid he had achieved it. The English soldiers were re- 
 fused their pay, and no regard was had for their com- 
 fort. To the renewed proposals of Henry in regard to 
 the marriage, he returned tardy and evasive replies. 
 The English companies were indignantly withdrawn. 
 Not long after, a treaty was made between the King 
 of England and the Armagnacs, by which troops were 
 to cross the channel to the latter's assistance. The 
 arrogance and shortsightedness of John thus threw 
 into the hostile scale that cooperation which he might 
 have retained ; whilst his ambition frustrated a mar- 
 riage which would have made his house illustrious 
 beyond precedent. 
 
 There never lived a prince whom the voice of 
 
23 G IIENKY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 slander and malignant accusation has not reached. 
 The bent of potentates have their enemies. The only 
 defence of wicked men is to asperse the good. In every 
 age dispositions are found which delight in detraction, 
 in the blackening of great characters. 
 
 Henry of Monmouth has not escaped the shafts of 
 malice. Charges, happily refuted by every trustworthy 
 writer, are found recorded against him, but with that 
 inconsistency which all the arts of a wicked mind 
 cannot guard against. 
 
 The charges which have gained most ground are, 
 disobedience to the royal will, the appropriation of 
 moneys devoted to public ends, and, most absurd of 
 all, a conspiracy to obtain the throne during the life- 
 time of his father. It is enough to say, that no au- 
 thentic corroboration of these counts is to be found 
 in history. No judicious critic has pretended to be- 
 lieve them ; no just historian has thought it necessary 
 to repeat them. That the opposition at King Henry's 
 court would have rejoiced to accept the Prince as their 
 leader, and to divide the influence of the blood royal, 
 as has since been so successfully done in the reigns of 
 the Brunswicks, we cannot doubt. The probability is, 
 that the refusal of the Prince to enter into such a 
 scheme produced the slanders against him. "Whatever 
 disagreements there were between the King and his 
 heir, are rather to be laid to the jealous and peevish 
 temper of the former than to the impatient ambition 
 of tlie latter. The entire dissimilarity between their 
 diameters maybe added as a further reason: for no 
 two men were ever more opposite, except in pride of 
 family mid ambition. And their ambition was not of 
 the same hind. Holingbroke sought to rule with a 
 peaceful and stable government. Henry of Mon- 
 
HENEY OP MONMOUTH. 237 
 
 mouth dreamt of military glory. Bolingbroke was 
 satisfied tliat Lancaster should be King of England. 
 Henry of Monmouth would have Lancaster soar 
 above his predecessors, and wear a double diadem. 
 Bolingbroke's relaxation from state cares was employ- 
 ed in quiet amusements, more still in melancholy 
 thought and pious conference. Henry of Monmouth 
 rejoiced in the sports of the field, and in those merry 
 gatherings which lighten the anxious heart. Doubt- 
 less there was no such thing as warm mutual affection 
 between them. But the son ever respected the father, 
 paid the greatest deference to his word and wish, and 
 submitted on all occasions, cheerfully, to his com- 
 mands. The father, on the other hand, kept diligent 
 watch over the son's morals, gave him every opportu- 
 nity to distinguish himself, and freely accorded him 
 the position in his council to which both his rank and 
 his abilities entitled him. It perhaps increased the 
 sombreness of the King's feelings to see how much 
 more loved and applauded the Prince was than he 
 himself; and it galled him that his star should be so 
 soon upon the wane, while his youthful heir engaged 
 all the active loyalty of his subjects. This, added to 
 the leprosy which was hastening him to the grave, may 
 have produced that ill-humor toward young Henry of 
 which we occasionally catch . a glimpse, but which at 
 no time seems to have been called forth by so grave a 
 treason as the thought of grasping the sceptre from 
 the paternal hand. 
 
 There certainly was, however, at one time, a misun- 
 derstanding between the father and son, a little while 
 before the former's death. Great obscurity veils the 
 whole transaction. As far as can be judged from the 
 remote suggestions of the old chroniclers, it was fo- 
 
238 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 meuted by other persons — those vultures who hang 
 about courts to breed hatred between kinsmen, that 
 they may feed upon the emoluments of state. The 
 Prince was treated with disrespect by some who were 
 jealous of his attendance near the King, and his own 
 adherents strove to widen the breach by muttering 
 against the court. Whether the scene which Mons- 
 trelet has depicted possesses any foundation in truth 
 or not, it is difficult to decide. Shakspeare has adopt- 
 ed it as if worthy of credence, and it would not be 
 inconsistent with the character of either Prince if it 
 were true. Monstrelet thus gives the story: "The 
 King's attendant, not perceiving him to breathe, con- 
 cluded he was dead, and covered his face with a cloth. 
 The crown was then upon a cushion near the bed. 
 The Prince, believing his father to be dead, took away 
 the crown. Shortly after, the King uttered a groan, 
 and revived ; and, missing his crown, sent for his son, 
 and asked why he had removed it. The Prince men- 
 tioned his supposition that his father had died. The 
 King gave a deep sigh, and said : ' My fair son, what 
 right have you to it ? You know I had none.' ' My 
 lord,' replied Henry, ' as you have held it by right of 
 your sword, it is my intent to hold and defend it the 
 same duiing my life.' The King answered: 'Well, 
 all as you see best ; I leave all things to God, and pray 
 that he will have mercy upon me.' Shortly after, 
 without uttering another word, he expired.'' 1 
 
 There conciliation between the King and his son is 
 certainly verified. The Prince, seeing the near approach 
 of 1mm father's death, became very anxious to receive 
 the paternal pardon and blessing. Whatever anger 
 had dwelt ill liiH heart, passed away as the shadow of 
 death fell upon the household. Accordingly he chose 
 
HENEY OF MONMOUTH. 239 
 
 the festival of New Year on which to approach the 
 King, and make an avowal of his continued affection. 
 He wore a dark "blue robe, over which was an aca- 
 demical gown ; and around his collar hung many needles 
 with thread, symbolical of the slanders which had at- 
 tacked him. The King, dressed in attire befitting sick- 
 ness, was seated with his courtiers around a blazing 
 fire, in one of the halls of the palace. Henry left his 
 attendants at the door, and, advancing alone, made an 
 humble salutation to the monarch, and asked for a 
 private interview. The King was too feeble to walk 
 alone ; his attendants advanced, and slowly bore him 
 to a private closet, where the Prince also entered and 
 closed the door. When he found himself alone with 
 his father, he threw himself passionately at his feet, and 
 drawing the jewelled dagger at his side, offered it to the 
 King, saying : " Rather take my life with this, my royal 
 sire, than believe that I have any other thought toward 
 you than loyalty and love." The dying Prince, touched 
 to the heart by so tender a proof of his son's innocence, 
 raised him up, embraced him, and assured him, in a 
 voice broken with emotion, of his affectionate forgive- 
 ness. Mutual explanations were made, and in that 
 solemn hour, when father and son were alone together, 
 no ambitious meddler interposed to put those manly 
 hearts asunder. Suffice it to say (for the particular 
 words of the interview are not reported), that the re- 
 sult was the complete restoration of confidence and 
 love on both sides, which was to continue unimpaired 
 until the elder's eyes were closed in death. How 
 much peace and consolation this happy event gave to 
 Henry's dying hours, is clear from the account of the 
 last weeks of his life. ■ That melancholy and self-re- 
 proach which had been so bitter, ceased to trouble 
 
240 HENRY OF MONMOUTH. 
 
 liim, and his clear, strong mind could once more grasp 
 the affairs of state, and, now more congenial to him, 
 the teachings of the Church. Just before the sad 
 event which was to make young Henry fatherless 
 and a king, the scheme of marrying him to Catharine 
 of Valois, the youngest daughter of the King of 
 France, was first proposed. The Duke of York was 
 sent on a private embassy to Paris to bring about this 
 result. Although the negotiation was unsuccessful, 
 the Princess who was the object of York's solicitation 
 afterward became the queen of Henry the Fifth. As 
 spring approached, the King's decline became rapid ; 
 and although he still moved about in the palace, the 
 change in his countenance and step became daily more 
 perceptible. 
 
 When the King at last approached his end, he 
 called the Prince of Wales to him, and addressed him 
 with words of great wisdom and eloquence. " Con- 
 sider, my son and beloved," said he, " thy father, who 
 once was strenuous in arms, but now is adorned only 
 with bones and nerves. His bodily strength is gone : 
 but, by the gift of God, spiritual strength hath come 
 to him. For even this sickness, which, as I certainly 
 1 telieve, is unto death, renders my soul brave and more 
 devoted than before. Think, my son, in the midst of 
 the glory and prosperity of the kingdom, whither thou, 
 too, slialt come. Love the Lord thy God, and, above 
 all things, fear him. Let thy confessor be a man of 
 wisdom and prudence, who may know how to give 
 thee wholesome warnings, and may be bold to give 
 them; and do not thou agree to those who sew pil- 
 lows under all armholes, Keveal all the counsel of 
 thy heart to men distinguished for goodness, temper- 
 ance, and religious character, especially to those who 
 
HENBY OP MONMOUTH. 241 
 
 lead a lonely life in study, and in prayer, and in sacred 
 repose. Be not thyself fond of ease ; Ibut always en- 
 gaged either about the things of God, or about the 
 good of the kingdom for the sake of God, or about 
 some of those pleasures and excellent sports which 
 have in them nothing of the foulness of vice. And 
 may the God of our fathers, the God of Abraham, 
 Isaac, and Jacob, give thee his blessing, laden with all 
 good things, that so thou mayst live blessed for ever 
 and ever ! " 
 
 How tender and beautiful this endeavor to turn 
 the son to the paths of virtue and godliness, in that 
 last solemn hour ! It is apparent that the troubled 
 mind of the great monarch was at last placid in the 
 thought of redemption, and that he no longer looked 
 upon death with guilty dread. Thus Henry of Boling- 
 broke, King of England, passed the last hours of his 
 eventful career — at peace with the world, at peace 
 with his beloved son, and, as we believe, at peace with 
 Heaven. His great acquisition, the crown, he trans- 
 ferred to his son as an undisputed inheritance. He 
 had full belief that his England, which he loved as 
 much as his cold nature could love any thing, was to 
 prosper under a good reign, after his strong arm was 
 withdrawn from its support. His penance for the 
 crimes of which he stood condemned before the world 
 had been likewise performed in the sight of men ; and 
 his penitence was doubtless sincere and sufficient. At 
 an age which is to most the time of manly vigor, he 
 died, worn down by the malignant leprosy, which, 
 it was said by the astrologers, first attacked him 
 when he ordered the death of the unhappy Bichard 
 The Prince of "Wales attended the King on the fatal 
 20th of March, 1413. The last sight that greeted the 
 
 16 
 
212 HENRY OP MONMOUTH. 
 
 glazing eyes were the features of that devoted son, 
 who, after their temporary estrangement, had grown 
 nearer to him day by day. When Henry the Fourth 
 had ceased to live, the Prince retired to his chamber, 
 and indulged for many solitary hours in mourning 
 and praying. Then the funeral obsequies were per- 
 formed, which the Prince attended, broken with weep- 
 ing, wearing a countenance of sincere misery, and ar- 
 rayed in the sombre apparel which was the outward 
 mark of his deep emotion. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 u Consideration like an angel came, 
 And drove the offending Adam out of him." 
 
 THE ACCESSION OP HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 Knsra Henry the Fifth, could be jovial Prince Hal 
 no longer. A course of life which might not seem un- 
 befitting the Prince, would by no means grace the dig- 
 nity of the King. The assumption of royalty divests 
 him who acquires it of many liberties. The revelries, 
 the sports, the adventures, the free intermingling with 
 the populace, the careless caprices of youthful spirit, 
 the joys of modest charity, the sudden duels, the 
 " hairbreadth escapes " of midnight rambles, all must 
 be thrown aside, to give place to that solemn destiny 
 which the fates have decreed to him. Henry was 
 great in this — that at the age of twenty-one he could 
 lay aside the easy habits and trivial pursuits of a 
 courtier, and assume, apparently without effort, the 
 proper character of majesty. He had a vivid appre- 
 ciation of the high office he was now summoned to 
 assume ; he saw that to be successful in it, he must 
 secure both the affection and the respect of his sub- 
 jects ; he was not slow to perceive that he must turn 
 from the light humors of boyhood, and must gird him- 
 self up with lofty purposes. When, therefore, he sue- 
 
2-44 IIENET THE FIFTH. 
 
 (.•ceded his father, lie so changed the tenor of his life, 
 with such good grace, with such promptitude, that the 
 good people of England woke up one morning to find 
 that they had more than a good-natured Prince — a 
 high-minded, dignified, and earnest sovereign. This 
 transformation had been effected by that active virtue 
 of self-control, which had already given here and there 
 a happy augury of his future eminence. He had con- 
 quered himself; he had acquired, as a habit, that com- 
 mand over temper and impulse which was the crown- 
 ing feature of his career. He resolved to bear him- 
 self so as to win the devotion of his subjects, the fear 
 of his enemies, and the respect of all. Those com- 
 panions who had beguiled his idle hours, and from 
 whose conviviality and wit he had derived the fund 
 of his lighter entertainment, he resolved to eschew ; and 
 to abandon, at the same time, the follies which would 
 have unfitted his mind for the graver matters which 
 were now to become his sole care. One of his first 
 acts was to banish these merry fellows ten miles from 
 his court ; while, in acknowledgment of their past ser- 
 vices, he distributed money among them for their re- 
 spectable support. The late King's councillors re- 
 tained their office as advisers of the Crown — Arch- 
 bishop Arundel, Henry Beaufort, Sir John Stanley, 
 Sir William Gascoigne, Lord Scroop, the Earl of Arun- 
 del, and the Earl of Westmoreland. The magna- 
 nimity of his nature was apparent in the readiness with 
 which he took them into his confidence. The minis- 
 ters <»f Bolingbroke had looked coldly upon the heir 
 apparent. They had not seemed desirous to maintain 
 harmony in the royal family. They had opposed the 
 Prince's propositions, and had been inclined to treat 
 him us a raw ami presumptuous boy, who sought to 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 245 
 
 control the counsels of wiser men. One of them, 
 Chief Justice Gascoigne, had put upon him a public 
 indignity, and had reprimanded him in open court. 
 Another was suspected, probably with some justice, 
 of having prejudiced the King's mind against him. 
 Another had opposed his appointment to the com- 
 mand in Guienne. Another had suggested his re- 
 moval from the council board. Yet that he might at 
 the outset display a resolution to govern wisely, he 
 overlooked past injuries, and trusted those with his 
 destiny who had acted against him. 
 
 Hall, the chronicler, in curious phrase thus speaks 
 of the change which took place in Henry: "This 
 Prince [was almost the Arabical Phoenix, and amongst 
 his predecessors a very Paragon ; for that he, amongst 
 all governors, chiefly did remember that a King ought 
 to be a ruler with wit, gravity, circumspection, dili- 
 gence, and constancy, and for that cause to have a rule 
 to him committed, not for an honor, but for an onera- 
 rious charge and daily burden, and not to look so 
 much on other men's livings as to consider and re- 
 member his own doings and proper acts." The manner 
 in which the young King treated Sir "William Gas- 
 coigne is especially worthy of notice. That judge 
 was loath to approach one whom he .had committed 
 for contempt, and who now had the power to dismiss 
 him from office, and even imprison him. Henry sent 
 for Sir William, assured him of his respect and admi- 
 ration, and begged him to continue on the bench ; as 
 that judge best ornamented ; his office who, without 
 respect of persons, faithfully sustained the laws of 
 England. From that time until Gascoigne's death, he 
 was one of the Kings best trusted advisers, although 
 he did not continue as Chief Justice; while Henry 
 
-•itf IIENKY THE FIFTH. 
 
 always found in him a faithful servant and a loyal 
 subject. Henry of Monmouth had read history wisely. 
 He was warned by the fate of Edward the Second 
 and Richard the Second to what dangers a young 
 King was subject, and took care to avoid them. The 
 presence of favorites, extravagance, indolence, laxity 
 of morals, vacillation of policy, had brought them to 
 sudden death before their prime. Henry discarded 
 favorites, practised strict economy, labored diligently, 
 frowned upon license, and, having taken the advice 
 of his ministers, pursued a straightforward line of con- 
 duct. Neither was he so blind as to have overlooked 
 those traits of his father's character which gave occa- 
 sional unpopularity to his reign, and which repelled the 
 affection of the people. He did not banish the grace- 
 ful virtues of mercy and kindliness when he came to 
 the rank of majesty. lie was still the sweet-tempered, 
 gracious Prince, who had so often gone amongst the 
 people with generous words and acts of quiet charity. 
 He retained the patience in argument, the respect for 
 the feelings of others, the readiness for conviction, the 
 strong desire to execute justice, which were his early 
 traits. He avoided that haughty bearing toward the 
 great barons which had cost his father a succession of 
 rebellions. His ambition was to conciliate and har- 
 monize the conflicting interests and passions which com- 
 posed his court. "He allowed no lord to go from 
 him with a sullen brow, — but, by cordial words, sought 
 to becalm the troubled feelings." It was his pleasure 
 t< i make enemies friends, to heal feuds, to see the Scroops 
 and the Arundels taking counsel together. 
 
 The haughty rivals for his favor were humbled 
 before the readiness with which he forgave and the 
 gentleness with which he reproved. When a courtier 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 247 
 
 approached him -with the familiarity he had permitted 
 in his days of heirship, the mild dignity with which 
 he was repelled commanded the respect of the in- 
 truder, while it did not make him ashamed. His lofty 
 humanity and conscientiousness endeared him to the 
 poor and weak ; his eloquence and learning amazed 
 his ministers ; his military ardor charmed the young- 
 er nobility ; his courtesy and sentiment of honor cap- 
 tivated the gentler sex ; his devotion to the Church 
 won the warm support of prelates and priests. 
 
 "We may judge that Henry the Fifth proposed to 
 himself three great aims, when he ascended the throne. 
 He would effect domestic unity in England. He would 
 shed a lustre upon English arms by foreign conquest. 
 He would establish the entire supremacy of the Church 
 of Eome. First, he would reconcile the conflicting 
 interests of his barons ; he would call the wisest coun- 
 sellors to his assistance; he would banish intrigue 
 from the court ; he would lay light taxes ; he would 
 court the good- will of Parliament ; he would indulge 
 the people in every freedom except religious freedom ; 
 he would execute laws for the alleviation of dis- 
 tress. By these means he hoped to secure a united 
 support to his reign, and avoid the danger of civil 
 wars. Then he would put himself at the head of 
 armies, and in person lead them to fields of glory. 
 To the ascendency of Rome he would devote himself 
 with an ardor becoming the son of Bolingbroke and 
 Mary of Hereford. Before casting too much blame 
 upon him for the pertinacity with which he suppress- 
 ed the reformers, we must consider that both his edu- 
 cation, his interest, and the interest of England as it 
 appeared to him, prompted a steadfast support of the 
 established religion. The policy of his father, the 
 
-48 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 early teachings of his mother, the learning, power, and 
 tradition centred in the Papal system, the ignorance 
 and lawlessness of many of the Lollards, the fact that 
 the best approved of his friends and teachers were 
 Papists, his own imaginative and devout tone of mind, 
 all combined to make him an ardent champion of the 
 hierarchy. That he was sincere in this, as in every 
 thing, there can be no doubt. To suppose otherwise, 
 is to charge a mere youth with a hypocritical cun- 
 ning worthy of the Borgias in their zenith. And 
 being sincere and also earnest, determined to carry to 
 a conclusion projects of which his conscience ap- 
 proved, and which his ambition urged, we cannot 
 wonder at finding him the bitter enemy of the here- 
 sies which threatened to disturb his peace. 
 
 Besides the three aims to which he seems to have 
 devoted his reign, there was in his mind a purpose to 
 set a shining example of exalted kingcraft to poster- 
 ity. He wished to show that virtue and humanity 
 made a crown doubly noble. He put himself in con- 
 trast both with dissolute kings and with tyrant kings. 
 He demonstrated that, if a king's evil deeds affected 
 not only himself but his whole nation, a virtuous king 
 
 " Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way ; " 
 
 elevating the taste and customs of his people, as he 
 showed himself pure and just ; and receiving back 
 Ills reward in the thought, that by his example re- 
 ligion was regarded, and the laws had their proper 
 place in the estimation of the people. 
 
 The accession of Henry of Monmouth was hailed 
 throughout England with profound joy. His popu- 
 larity had never waned; lie was peculiarly the hero 
 and idol of his people. lie brought to the royal dig- 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 249 
 
 nity the unanimous loyalty of the nation. Every dem- 
 onstration of zealous attachment was exhibited, and 
 a general holiday was made to give vent to the popu- 
 lar feelings. On the day after Henry the Fourth's 
 death, a proclamation was issued, announcing the as- 
 sumption of the throne by Henry the Fifth. Parlia- 
 ment was summoned to Westminster without delay. 
 The inauguration of the new reign began with a mark 
 of respect both auspicious and unusual. An honor 
 was extended to Henry which had never been extend- 
 ed to any of his predecessors. The Lords and Com- 
 mons, as soon as they met, sent to him an address, in 
 which they asked permission to take the oath, and 
 give in their allegiance, before he was crowned and 
 consecrated. The King sent them a most gracious an- 
 swer. "I thank my Lords and Commons," said he, 
 "for this evidence of their devotion, and do exhort 
 them in their spheres to use their power for the ad- 
 vancement of the kingdom. The first act of my reign 
 shall be to pardon all who have offended me ; and I 
 do so desire my people's felicity, that I will be crowned 
 on no other condition than to use all my power to se- 
 cure it. I pray unto God, that if He foresees I am 
 like to be any other than a just and good king, He 
 may be pleased to take me from the world, rather 
 than seat me on a throne to live a public calamity to 
 my country." 
 
 There is no reason to doubt the sincerity and ear- 
 nestness of these sentiments. From the moment of 
 his father's decease he had put on a new man, and 
 had consecrated himself in his own mind to a grand 
 life-work. The ceremony of the coronation took place 
 on the morning of Passion Sunday, April 9th, 1413. 
 The rites performed on this occasion differed little 
 
250 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 from those which confirmed Henry the Fourth on the 
 throne, and which have already been described. Arun- 
 del, Archbishop of Canterbury, officiated over the son, 
 as he had before done over the father. The King was 
 arrayed with much simplicity, his garments being som- 
 bre in token of his bereavement. The day was stormy 
 and windy, and this circumstance gave occasion for 
 innumerable prophecies as to the future of the young 
 King. After the rites were duly concluded, Henry 
 addressed the multitude who were gathered in the 
 Abbey, in a dignified and noble speech. 
 
 " As I reflect," said he, " upon the great princes to 
 whom government has been confided, and the wise 
 men who have administered state affairs to the content 
 of their subjects, nothing seems to me more difficult, 
 than to refrain from doing what may excite popular 
 hatred, and inflame the minds of the multitude. For 
 the affairs of the realm cannot be directed happily and 
 prosperously by that man, who puts his thoughts on 
 frivolous things, of which the future memory will be 
 very brief. Indeed, those princes act nobly, who, 
 after they have arrived at sovereignty, take their 
 pleasure in active warfare. The princes whose fame 
 has come down to us through the records, have never 
 relinquished the government because a life devoted 
 to the cares of public business was distasteful and irk- 
 some; but they have devoted themselves to those 
 measures, which would bring upon them a multitude 
 of anxieties and annoyances. How difficult it is to be 
 preeminent, the works of the learned declare to lis. 
 Abandoning those occupations which before pleased; 
 giving the whole mind to the condition of the king- 
 dom ; always watchful, always laboring for the good 
 of the commonwealth ; this is the necessity to creat- 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 251 
 
 ness. An anxious thought for many things is to he 
 taken, cares are to he assumed, that no good, that 
 nothing which pertains to the necessities, the pomp, 
 and the comfort of life, may he wanting to faithful 
 subjects. These principles are "better found in the 
 works of learned men, than in my narration of them. 
 It was my mind to embrace in my speech what I 
 thought should be done to preserve the integrity of 
 the kingdom. Since God, the greatest and best, by 
 whose nod and power all things are ordered, hath 
 placed me over you, I should sin gravely against 
 Heaven if I did not take every caution, lest the in- 
 sane opinions of some should invade the sancity of 
 our religion, or the sneers of wicked persons vitiate 
 the culture of sacred principles, or . the crimes of evil 
 men overturn the State. 
 
 " Most reverend prelates have been chosen, who 
 have heen commended by the innocence of their lives, 
 and the purity of their morals. Prudent counsellors 
 are not wanting, who are always vigilant to see that 
 nothing is ill done in the administration of the realm. 
 We shall exalt the priesthood during the term of our 
 power, and take care that their offices shall never be 
 wanting ; but that they shall solve the mysteries of 
 divine eloquence, watch diligently lest they themselves 
 sin disgracefully, restrain the excess of their appetites, 
 be continent in all things, appear holy, and prescribe 
 the rules of life to others. The judges and advocates 
 shall defend the weak, punish the injuries which are 
 proved to them, decree equity to all ; they shall not, 
 as is too often done, delude those who are in the suits 
 with idle hopes, or tell them to hope well of their 
 "business, when they see that justice denies to them 
 what is sought. In short, I wish the judges to be 
 
252 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 admonished, not to give rules at random, nor to per- 
 mit false testimony ; and that they should regard per- 
 jury and, God witnessing, a false affirmation, to be 
 worthy of death. Let all cultivate God by prayer. 
 Let the nobles be moderate if they desire to end life 
 happily. I promise and declare that I will have the 
 greatest solicitude for your safety and weal, and that 
 I will cause nothing stringent to be enacted, unless 
 the deeds of wicked men drive me from clemency and 
 lenity of disposition to severity." 
 
 The tone of this speech, wise and conciliatory, is 
 yet firm in the enunciation of the principles by which 
 Henry had determined to be guided. Its special feat- 
 ures are, the necessity of economy, virtue, and dili- 
 gence in a king, the purity of the judges, the exalta- 
 tion of the Church, and the lenient purposes of the 
 royal orator. One short passage only, hints at the 
 pursuit of military glory. The captivating tone of 
 Heniy's voice, his attractive manner, his ease of mo- 
 tion, his clearness of enunciation, the elegance of his 
 sentences, and the beauty of his person, all combined 
 to give effect to his harangue. His auditors flocked 
 from the venerable church, blessing and praising him 
 as they went, and scattered through the narrow 
 streets to tell others of the scene that was just con- 
 cluded. Meanwhile the young monarch, whose pale 
 features evinced that his heart was still heavy with 
 the death of his father, went without ostentation to 
 the palace. There shutting himself up in his closet, 
 he opened liis heart to God, and solicited His guid- 
 ance in the difficult pathway that lay before him. 
 The feast of* the coronation proceeded in the lower 
 hulls, and (he boisterous laughter and merry shouts 
 penetrated to the distant apartment where the young 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 253 
 
 monarch knelt in tearful prayer. No restraint was 
 put upon their mirth, and, soon forgetful of the dead 
 King, they mingled with their jests and cups hearty 
 praises of him to whom they now owed fealty. He 
 refused to appear amongst them, but remained for 
 the rest of that eventful day in the seclusion of his 
 own apartments. 
 
 The promise which the King had made in his coro- 
 nation speech, to commence his reign by acts of clem- 
 ency and conciliation, was speedily fulfilled. The 
 body of his benefactor, Eichard the Second, still re- 
 mained in obscure entombment at Langley. Henry 
 ordered the royal remains to be exhumed at Friar's 
 Church, and to be conveyed in state to London. 
 There the decaying body was taken from its coffin, 
 placed on a throne of cloth of gold, and was thus 
 borne with solemn pomp to the Abbey. The King 
 and his court followed the corpse ; Henry assumed the 
 character of chief mourner. Eichard was laid with 
 imposing rites in a tomb beside that of his first queen, 
 Anne of Bohemia. He had always expressed a wish, 
 in his lifetime, to lie near that queen, whom above all 
 mortals he had loved and cherished. This act of mag- 
 nanimity was so touching a proof of the King's great- 
 heartedness, that it brought many of Eichard's former 
 friends, who had held aloof, to the support of the Lan- 
 castrian dynasty. The most incredulous seem to have 
 been at last convinced that Eichard was really dead. 
 The King turned from this graceful tribute of regard 
 for the unfortunate Eichard, to perform an act equally 
 consonant with his loftiness of spirit. He determined 
 to restore to the kingdom the support of an ancient 
 and powerful, but malcontent house. The infant son 
 of Hotspur, at the time' of his grandsire Northumber- 
 
254 IIENBY THE FIFTH. 
 
 land's last and fatal rebellion, had been sent into 
 Scotland with an escort, that he might not be exposed 
 to the vicissitudes of civil commotion. He remained 
 in Edinburgh during the remainder of Henry the 
 Fourth's reign, being held in virtual captivity by the 
 Scotch, who hoped to derive some advantage from the 
 custody of so important a person. Henry the Fifth, 
 learning the position of young Percy, and having long 
 since ceased to harbor hostile feelings against his 
 family, announced his intention to restore him to his 
 titles and estates. He was unwilling that so great a 
 house as that of Northumberland should be wanting 
 in his councils. The Scotch refused to deliver him 
 up, unless he were ransomed, or exchanged for a per- 
 son of equal dignity. With a magnanimity which is 
 rare in any age, Henry proposed to give up the Earl 
 of Fife, who had been captured at Homildon. This 
 noble was the son of the Duke of Albany, and the 
 blood royal of Scotland ran in his veins. Thus the 
 exchange was more than an equal one — a prince being 
 yielded up for a subject. Inasmuch as Henry might 
 have had no reason to fear Percy if he had permitted 
 him to He and die in a Scotch prison, it was cer- 
 tainly admirable to restore him to liberty, to replace 
 the proud coronet of Northumberland upon his brow, 
 and to give back into his hands that almost royal do- 
 main, which had made his ancestors so dangerous to 
 the peace of England. The King thought, wisely, that 
 gratitude toward his liberator, and cordial and con- 
 ciliatory treatment, would efface from the memory of 
 the young man past enmities, and would restore the 
 once lieiirty friendship between the houses of Lancas- 
 ter and Percy. The Earl whs overcome with gratitude 
 when the intelligence of his release reached him. He 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 255 
 
 hastened with all speed from Edinburgh to London, 
 threw himself down upon the steps of the throne, and 
 poured out his overcharged feelings with every ex- 
 pression of loyalty and love ; while Henry, approaching 
 and embracing him, used a gentle and conciliatory- 
 language toward him, with such dignity and sweet- 
 ness as quickly to win over the entire devotion of the 
 youthful baron. John, Duke of Bedford, Henry's 
 younger brother, occupied the Northumberland estates. 
 The King obtained from him a release, and the Earl 
 - was restored to his ancestral patrimony. He took his 
 seat in the council, and, by constantly evincing his 
 loyalty to the existing dynasty, became one of Henry's 
 most trusted advisers. 
 
 A yet more magnanimous act of clemency was now 
 performed by the generous monarch. The young Earl 
 of March, descended in the right line from Lionel of 
 Clarence, the second son of Edward the Third, and 
 consequently the hereditary King of England, had 
 been held in honorable captivity through Boling- 
 broke's reign. Whilst the rigors of confinement were 
 spared to him, the surveillance over him was suf- 
 ficient to prevent his escape from , the power of the 
 usurping King. He had been intrusted to the gentle 
 guardianship of Henry of Monmouth, and had been 
 treated by him with all kindness and care. Boling- 
 broke, who was not a cruel man, feared the freedom 
 of the rightful heir, but refrained from treating with 
 needless rigor an amiable and innocent child, who, 
 of himself, was entirely harmless. The King only 
 sought to have such control over his movements, as to 
 prevent conspirators from using the name and person 
 of Mortimer for their own purposes of revolution. 
 After the prisoner came into the hands of Prince 
 
25G HENRY TIIE FIFTH. 
 
 Henry, these young men were often in each other's 
 company ; and both being of a sweet and loving dispo- 
 sition, a close intimacy soon sprung up between them. 
 Henry learned to esteem and love the unfortunate 
 youth whose crown was denied to him, and who 
 evinced every estimable quality. He was patient, 
 submissive, and cheerful ; pure in thought, and modest 
 and simple in his tastes. King Henry the Fifth re- 
 membered, in the midst of his royal grandeur, the 
 friend of his early days. Fearing nothing from the 
 character of March, and being entirely unwilling that 
 he should remain a captive all his days because he 
 was born to royalty, he sent to him an affectionate 
 message soon after his accession to the throne, and or- 
 dered his immediate release. He was well assured 
 that ambition had no place in March's breast, and he 
 was confident that his old companion would hasten 
 to give in his allegiance, after so noble an act as his 
 liberation. Such a course was entirely unexpected to 
 the nation. All wondered and applauded. Henry's 
 popularity ran to a height such as probably, never 
 before or since, a King of England has enjoyed. His 
 generosity was rewarded by the life-long devotion of 
 the heir of Clarence. The intimacy of youth ripened 
 into the steady fiiendship of manhood ; and as long as 
 Henry lived, he whose descendants afterward fought 
 as the Yorks against Lancaster was found on all occa- 
 sions by the side of his friend, sharing every danger 
 with him, and refusing with indignation every over- 
 ture to raise, the standard of revolution in his own 
 behalf. Such an instance of unselfish feeling on both 
 sides is very rare, especially in the courts of princes; 
 and these, two, who lived amid the darkness of a com- 
 paratively barbarous age, exhibit an example of great- 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 257 
 
 heartedness which shames many of the royal courts 
 of the nineteenth century. 
 
 We now reach that trying and unfortunate series 
 of events which began in the first year of Henry's 
 reign, and the subject of which was the first difficulty 
 with which he had to grapple. The topic on which 
 we are about to enter has brought out the greatest 
 diversity of opinion among historians, and has given 
 rise to much bitter discussion between those who jus- 
 tify and those who denounce the course of King Henry. 
 It shall be our endeavor to state the facts as they are 
 best verified, to notice whatever aggravates or extenu- 
 ates Henry's policy, and to banish, as far as may be 
 possible, the prepossession which we cannot but enter- 
 tain in favor of Henry. It is confidently believed 
 that, although his course was unfavorable to the de- 
 velopment of a pure Christianity, it may be proved 
 that he did nothing inconsistent with the exalted 
 character already awarded to him. 
 
 The cause of reformation did not die with John 
 Wickliffe. The followers of that great man, perse- 
 cuted, exiled from society, separated from each other, 
 and subjected to every contumely which either court 
 or people could cast upon them, still lived, and suffer- 
 ed, and waited. In spite of hostile power, they met in 
 secret, discussed their novel doctrines, and joined in 
 those simple and solemn services which they had sub- 
 stituted for the imposing rites of the Church of Rome. 
 As they increased in numbers, gathering to themselves 
 converts from the lower classes, they became bolder, 
 more openly avowed their convictions, and gathered 
 together to join in the worship of God. To such an 
 extent had the heresy swelled when Henry the Fourth 
 came to the throne, that the prelates and clergy of the 
 17 
 
258 UEOTJY TICE FIFTH. 
 
 Establishment Lad taken serious alarm, and had begun 
 to clamor for more vigorous measures in their suppres- 
 sion. The Lollards, who had grafted on the doctrines 
 of Wicldiffe precepts which emanated from the Con- 
 tinental reformers, and were as well political as re- 
 ligious malcontents, became bitter and abusive, and 
 sowed dissension among the vulgar, who were pleased 
 with the excitement, and stimulated by the prospect 
 of a popular commotion. The Church was openly 
 railed at and ridiculed, the royal power attacked, the 
 priesthood mobbed, and all attempts to maintain order 
 vehemently defied. Henry the Fourth, as we have 
 seen, was a thorough devotee of the Papacy long be- 
 fore he obtained the crown. One of his first measures 
 was to assure the Church of his support. He declared 
 himself anxious to annihilate the rising sentiment of 
 reformation, and expressed his determination to bring 
 the whole power of the Crown to bear upon this end. 
 The bishops were encouraged by the King's words 
 to ask that laws should be passed, without delay, 
 directed against the Lollards. Arundel, Archbishop 
 of Canterbury, who had been one of the most power- 
 ful adherents of Henry's rebellion, and who was a 
 learned and energetic prelate, urged that stringent 
 measures alone would eradicate the evil. Laws must 
 be passed which would strike at the root of the heresy. 
 The political and ecclesiastical authority must unite, 
 with all their combined strength, to suppress so formi- 
 dable a disaffection. Henry's second Parliament, which 
 met at Westminster in 1401, being entirely acquies- 
 cent to the King's will, passed an act which had been 
 concocted at Lambeth, and which, it was thought, 
 would cH'cet, the object in view. Preaching without 
 an episcopal license was prohibited; all who attempt- 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 259 
 
 ed to inculcate heretical doctrines were to be seized, 
 imprisoned, and deprived of their writings and books. 
 , Such were the measures asked by the prelates. The 
 King and his Parliament went further. The penalty 
 of death was added. " Whoever refuses to abjure the 
 heresy of which he is convicted or vehemently sus- 
 pected, or having abjured, relapses, is to be seized; 
 and the magistrates shall forthwith, in some high 
 place, before the people, do him to be burnt." The 
 object of this severity was declared in the statute 
 which commanded its performance. It was "in 
 order to strike in fear to the minds of others, where- 
 by no such wicked doctrines and heretical and errone- 
 ous opinions, nor their authors and fautors against 
 the Catholc faith and detriment of the holy Church, 
 which God prohibit, be sustained or in any way 
 suffered." 
 
 Soon after this enactment, a victim was found upon 
 whom to execute its rigor. William Sawtre, once a 
 priest, had been accused of heresy, and had recanted. 
 A petition now came to Parliament from him, asking 
 to be admitted into their session, to argue with them 
 on the tenets of the Catholic faith. Arundel hasten- 
 ed to seize and question him. He refused to recant, 
 and kept a moody silence. The Primate then passed 
 upon him the sentence of death, and he was delivered 
 over to the officers of the law. The King, " in abhor- 
 rence of his crime, and as an example to all other 
 Christians," ordered him to be burned in a public 
 place. This was the first execution for. religious opin- 
 ion that took place in England, although in Germany 
 the stake had already come into requisition for the 
 extirpation of heretics. The sovereign and both or- 
 ders of the legislature seem to have been in cordial 
 
^00 IIENEY THE FIFTH. 
 
 unison in maintaining the supremacy of the Estab- 
 lishment. 
 
 But even the stringency which was now adopted 
 did not discourage the persistent activity of the Lol- 
 lards. It was found impossible to maintain a strict 
 execution of the law ; and the omission to visit it upon 
 them gave impunity to those against whom it was 
 directed, to continue more actively than ever in the 
 promulgation of their doctrines. The clergy constantly 
 urged the court to adopt graver methods to prevent 
 the spread of heresy. The Convocation of the Church 
 condemned (and the University of Oxford confirmed 
 their action) the works of Wickliffe as detestable 
 heresies. The new sect bes:an to count their converts 
 among the cloisters of the University. Learned men 
 1 legan to announce and preach the doctrines of Wick- 
 liffe. Oxford was shaken from the quiet of its scho- 
 lastic routine, by the fierce disputes which arose among 
 the doctors of theology. The King, amid the more 
 immediate necessities of quelling the rebellious and 
 preserving his dynasty, now found no opportunity to 
 put himself seriously to the work of religious extermi- 
 nation. He encouraged, indeed, the Primate in his 
 measures to that end, and sustained by his acquies- 
 cence the efforts of the Establishment. But so turbu- 
 lent was his reign, and so uncertain the tenure of his 
 crown, that he could not come to their aid with a 
 substantial cooperation. Years therefore passed with 
 but little check to the Lollards, while they wore 
 spreading with dangerous rapidity in every part of the 
 realm. No longer confined to the lower classes as a 
 field of operations, the preachers worked zealously to 
 augment their strength by the conversion of the 
 gentry, and the sympathy of peers of the realm. 
 
HEKET THE FIFTH. 261 
 
 Their success in this direction was the more easy, be- 
 cause of the divisions which took place between lead- 
 ing men, especially divisions made by the interference 
 of prelates in civil politics. Noblemen who were 
 sacrificed to the ambition of Arundel, or whose party 
 had been defeated by the intrigues of the Church, 
 were content to foster opposition to the papacy, and 
 changed their faith oftener for political ends than from 
 sincere conviction. The effective suppression of rebel- 
 lion left Henry the Fourth, late in his reign, to devote 
 himself to the difficulties of the Church. But the 
 body of reformers had now grown so much, that there 
 was found to be a very powerful party favorable to 
 them in the State. A startling obstacle presented itself 
 in the way of Henry, when he proposed to adopt new 
 measures, more rigid than ever, for the suppression 
 of Lollardism. The House of Commons was found to 
 be to a considerable extent favorable to, if it was not 
 actually under the control of, the spirit of reform. 
 "When the King asked Parliament for supplies, they 
 recommended him to seize the lands of the clergy and 
 of the monasteries. When he reprimanded them for 
 thus sustaining the demands of the Lollards, they 
 begged that priests who had been convicted should 
 be delivered over to the secular power, and not put 
 at the mercy of the prelates. They at last were so 
 bold as to urge that the laws against the Lollards 
 were too severe, and to propose that they should be 
 mitigated. The only response from the King was to 
 dismiss them, with the assurance that, contrary to 
 their wish, the laws should be made yet more severe, 
 and should be more actively enforced. 
 
 But little, nevertheless, was done during the re- 
 mainder of the fourth Henry's reign, toward putting 
 
~C2 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 down the heretics. Henry the Fifth found them still 
 restless and troublesome, when he succeeded to the 
 throne. Many men of rank and influence were found 
 to be Lollards, and their numbers among the higher 
 classes daily increased. 
 
 There was a nobleman of much distinction, called 
 Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, whose name has 
 come down to us full of renown. He had shown con. 
 spicuous valor in the wars, and his reputation, at the 
 time of which we speak, was above suspicion. He 
 was descended from one of the most ancient and hon. 
 orable families in the kingdom. By the right of his 
 wife, he held a seat in the House of Peers. His cour- 
 age was celebrated throughout England, and the con- 
 stancy with which he adhered to his principles was 
 remarkable. In his youth he had indulged freely in 
 the pleasures of opulent ease, and had been one of that 
 merry coterie who had gathered around the Prince of 
 Wales in his mansion at Coldharbour. He had been 
 exiled from the court of Kichard the Second, and had 
 returned to England in the train of Bolingbroke. He 
 had been trusted by the late King in many capaci- 
 ties, had been noted for his wide-spread charities, had 
 been an officer of the expedition to join Burgundy in 
 France, and had, by his gallant and lofty bearing, 
 secured the intimate friendship of Henry of Monmouth. 
 Indeed, Shakspeare originally used the name of Sir 
 John Oldcastle, where now we find that of Sir John 
 Falstaff",* thereby showing both his intimacy with the 
 Prince, and the jovial character of him who was after- 
 ward to become a martyr to his faith. 
 
 That friendship was to be rudely broken soon after 
 the Prince became King, (.'obham, endowed with a 
 
 • 1m.11.i-, p. 108. 
 
HENRY THE EIFTH. 263 
 
 mind naturally devout, and with a sincerity which laid 
 his heart open to conviction, embraced the doctrines 
 of Wickliffe. He had no sooner become convinced 
 of the truth of the reform doctrines, than with all his 
 soul he gave himself up to their advancement. He 
 ceased to regard any other objects in life than the dis- 
 covery of truth, the freedom of the conscience, the 
 overthrow of the papal despotism, and the establish- 
 ment of lofty morality. His sympathetic tempera- 
 ment revolted at what he regarded as the grossest of 
 all oppressions and persecutions for religious belief; 
 and, unterrified at the tremendous odds, he came forth 
 as the champion of the reformers, and fearlessly de- 
 fended their cause in the face of the civil power, and 
 in defiance of the rage and menace of the prelates. 
 
 At his stately castle of Cowling, in Kent, he re- 
 ceived with open arms the disciples of the oppressed 
 sect. Here, at a distance from the metropolis, and in 
 the security of rural seclusion, the restless spirits of 
 Wickliflism assembled to cheer each other, to mature 
 plans for their advancement, and, less worthily, to en- 
 tertain disloyal thoughts against the secular power. 
 The generous and hospitable host gave shelter to such 
 as had reason to fear the vengeance of the government, 
 and by his earnest harangues inspired his confederates 
 to greater exertion. He collected WicMiffe's works, 
 and such other books as discussed the tenets of the 
 Church, and read them ; and encouraged conversation 
 on the topics which were suggested by the authors 
 before him. 
 
 Archbishop Arundel observed with alarm the 
 active participation of Lord Cobham in the heresy. 
 He became the bitter enemy of the noble reformer. 
 He turned over and over in his sagacious mind the 
 
2G4 HENRY TIIE FIFTH. 
 
 course to be pursued in so unusual a case. He knew 
 that Cobham had endeared himself to the King ; that 
 Henry enjoyed the intimacy of so excellent a man, 
 and was disposed to treat him with every kindness. 
 He was too attentive a student of human nature not 
 to know that so affectionate a disposition as that of 
 Henry would with difficulty be torn from the object 
 of its attachment — especially as that attachment was 
 the growth of years, and was established by a thor- 
 ough knowledge of his friend's character. To over- 
 come the reluctance of the King presented itself to 
 Arundel's mind as a grave task, and he resolved to 
 proceed with the greatest caution. At the same time 
 he thought best to give an air of serious importance 
 to the charges against Cobham. Attended by a train 
 of the prelates and clergy, he went one day to the 
 King at Kensington Palace. He broached the object 
 of his visit with the greatest delicacy; banished all 
 rancor from his speech ; pictured the weight of Cob- 
 ham's influence ; hinted at his disaffection ; and grad- 
 ually drew to the culmination of his charges. "When 
 at last he arrived at the gist of his speech, he recited 
 with great minuteness every accusation which it was 
 possible to invent against the recusant peer. He en- 
 larged upon the evils of the heres) 7 , the dangerous 
 power which one so exalted possessed to promote the 
 growth of Lollardism, the peril which involved the 
 crown as well as the mitre, the urgent necessity of 
 taking prompt action ; and finally demanded that Lord 
 Cobham should be brought to trial without delay. 
 
 The King heard this tirade against his beloved 
 friend wit h grief and anxiety, lie saw before him 
 (lie most, trying dilemma of his life, lie nmst either 
 saeriiiee his friend, or permit a perhaps vital injury to 
 
HESHRY THE FIFTH. 265 
 
 the mother Church, to which he was religiously de- 
 voted. The most sensitive feelings of his nature were 
 touched. The prelates of the papacy had come to 
 him publicly, and denounced Cobham for a grave vio- 
 lation of the laws. Yet he would fain save the gal- 
 lant companion of his early years. Turning with a 
 troubled countenance to the Primate, he addressed 
 him as if he were an advocate, pleading his friend's 
 cause before a stern and immovable judge. He urged 
 him to reflect on Cobham's dignity of rank, on his 
 spotless reputation, on his past service to the state, on 
 his brave and manly character, on his generosity and 
 frankness, on the purity of his motives. He begged 
 Arundel to be lenient with the faults of so estimable 
 a man, and to endeavor, by every kind persuasion, to 
 restore him to the ancient faith. He declared that he 
 himself would summon Cobham before him, and seek 
 to dissuade him from the further pursuit of his wicked 
 purpose. This was entirely agreeable to Arundel's 
 design. He foresaw, that if Cobham was once brought 
 to public interrogation, the issue would be according 
 to his wishes. 
 
 Henry sent for Lord Cobham to come to him, with 
 a gentle and conciliatory message. When he entered 
 the royal presence, Cobham was received with that 
 charming cordiabty which so attracted every one 
 toward the young King. The two friends sat down 
 to discuss the subject which threatened to divide 
 them. Henry earnestly urged upon Cobham the ne- 
 cessity of saving himself by a timely return to the 
 communion of Rome. He used every appeal which 
 his heart could prompt, and by the loving tenderness 
 of his voice sought to win over the conscience of the 
 obdurate lord. It must have been hard for Cobham 
 
2G6 IIENBY THE FIFTH. 
 
 to resist the fascination of that voice, which had long 
 been so dear to him. There can be no greater proof 
 of his sincerity, than that he braced himself against 
 an appeal which would have moved any man, less de- 
 voted, from a rigid line of duty. His final reply to 
 the long and anxious solicitations of Henry is justly 
 celebrated. " You, most worthy Prince," said he, " I 
 am ever prompt and willing to obey as the sovereign 
 appointed over me by God, which bear the sword to 
 punish evil-doers, and protect them that do well. 
 Unto you, after Him, my whole obeisance is due, and 
 ever hereafter as ever heretofore, -with my fortune and 
 my life, will I yield me to all your commands in the 
 Lord. But for the Pope and his spiritual power, truly 
 I owe him nor suit nor service, knowing him by the 
 Scriptures to be Antichrist, son of perdition, open ad- 
 versary of God, and the abomination in the holy 
 place." We may imagine what a shock this speech, 
 coming from a beloved friend, must have given to one 
 who, by every prejudice of education and conviction, 
 looked up to the Pope as God's lieutenant on earth. 
 After such an expression, Henry could say or do no 
 more. His whole moral nature, vividly active, was 
 stunned by the enormity of the opinions to which 
 Cobham had given utterance. Without further words, 
 therefore, he sent him from his presence, and with a 
 heart heavily oppressed brought his mind to the only 
 recourse which was left to him. 
 
 Arundel hastened to the King when he heard the 
 issue of the interview, which had terminated as he 
 had foreseen. Henry was now persuaded Avith less 
 difficulty to consent that active measures should be 
 taken, lint lie would not yet employ the royal authority 
 for that purpose. The Primate, content with any con- 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 267 
 
 cession, summoned Cobham to appear before him in 
 ecclesiastical council, that he might be questioned on 
 his belief. The spirited peer scouted the summons, 
 and promptly refused to submit to " the devilish prac- 
 tices of the priests." The next move was to fasten a 
 more imperative summons to the gates of Eochester 
 Cathedral, near Cowling. As often as this was done, 
 the Lollards tore the papers down, and burned them. 
 Nothing could have suited Arundel better. This was 
 a good foundation upon which to proceed more effec- 
 tively. He issued a proclamation, pronouncing Cob- 
 ham contumacious, visiting him with the penalty of 
 excommunication, and summoning him for the last time 
 to his trial at Lambeth. Cobham now submitted a 
 confession of his creed to Henry. The King, who at 
 last despaired of saving him, refused to receive it, and 
 Cobham was seized and shut up in the Tower. Soon 
 after he was brought to trial before a court consisting 
 of Archbishop Arundel, presiding; Clifford, Bishop 
 of London ; and Cardinal Henry Beaufort, Bishop of 
 Winchester, the uncle and former instructor of King 
 Henry. This memorable proceeding took place in St. 
 Paul's Cathedral. The three ablest prelates of the 
 Establishment sat in judgment on one of the most 
 powerful and popular peers of the realm, on the charge 
 of being an heretical enemy of the Boman Church, 
 and a disturber of the peace of the kingdom. The 
 Primate opened the session by acquainting Lord Cob- 
 ham with the charges on which he stood arraigned. He 
 informed him that the time had come which gave him 
 a final chance of absolution. If he would at this late 
 hour recant, and return to the arms of the hierarchy, 
 he would be forgiven the heresy, and set at liberty. 
 The prisoner produced a paper, in response, which con- 
 
2G8 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 tained, in moderate and reasonable terms, the sub- 
 stance of Lis belief. The Primate, after reading it, 
 proceeded to point out wherein it failed to be satis- 
 factory, and a spirited discussion on points of faith 
 took place between the accused and the judges. Cob- 
 ham persisted in denying the authority of the Pope 
 or any of his subordinates. After much expostula- 
 tion the court rose, that preparations for more minute 
 interrogatories might be made. 
 
 On the following day the court, now enlarged by 
 the accession of several prelates and lay judges, re- 
 sumed its sitting. The prisoner was again offered 
 absolution if he would recant and ask for pardon. 
 " Nay," he answered, " that will I not, of you, against 
 whom I never have trespassed; but only of God." 
 He knelt down in open court, and, with his face 
 turned heavenward, implored the Deity to sustain 
 him in his perplexity. Then, rising to his feet, and 
 turning to the spectators, he called upon them to notice 
 that he was brought to trial for breaking the laws 
 which the Pope, not those which God had imposed. 
 After so saying, he sat down, and the questioning 
 commenced. Arundel first asked him " if he believed 
 that the substance of bread remained after the conse- 
 cration." He referred them to his written declaration 
 for his answer — the consecrated bread still remained 
 bread. The question was repeated to him by one or 
 other of the judges, amid exclamations of impatience 
 and rage. The only reply which he deigned to give 
 them was, " It is both : it is the very body, the flesh 
 ;iii(l blood, but under the form of bread, and seen only 
 by faith, while bread is seen by the eyes." In answer 
 to their appeal to the writings of the fathers, he said: 
 "I know none holier than Christ and his apostles; 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 269 
 
 with their determination yours standeth not ; and if 
 it be really the Church's, she has only held it since 
 she received the poison of earthly possessions." " Her- 
 esy, heresy ! " was the excited cry of the prelates, as he 
 announced these opinions. Denunciations were min- 
 gled with sharp and rapid questions. After a long 
 discussion, which passed all moderation and temper, 
 the prisoner was subjected to short categorical ques- 
 tions on the four articles. He was asked whether he 
 believed that the sacramental elements ceased to exist 
 after consecration; he answered that the bread re- 
 tained its substance. " Sir," exclaimed the Primate 
 Arundel, " you must say otherwise ! " " Nay," an- 
 swered Cobham, " that will I not, if God, as I trust He 
 is, be on my side ! " He was asked if he believed in 
 the necessity of absolution by the priesthood ; he re- 
 plied that no sin could be atoned for by confession to 
 a priest of impure morals. He was asked if he be- 
 lieved in the apostolic succession of the Pope from St. 
 Peter ; he answered, speaking of the Pope : " He and 
 ye make up the great Antichrist, of which he is the 
 head, you priests and monks and prelates the body, 
 and begging friars the tail that covers the filthiness 
 of both with subtle sophistry." Finally, he was asked 
 if he believed in pilgrimages, and in the reflected sanc- 
 tity of relics and images ; and he entirely denied their 
 efficacy, declaring their worship to be idolatrous. 
 
 Arundel now for the last time urged him to recant, 
 before sentence should be pronounced upon him. He 
 promptly said : " None otherwise will I believe than 
 I have told you hereafore. Do with me what you 
 will ! " The conference of his judges before announc- 
 ing the penalty was very brief. A few moments 
 passed in low and hurried consultation, and then 
 
270 HENBY THE FIFTH. 
 
 Arundel arose, uncovered, to pass the judgment of the 
 court. Every one stood up, and the prisoner was 
 put face to face with the arbiters of his fate. The 
 Primate rapidly recapitulated the proceedings, ap- 
 pealed to God that the trial had been held solely for 
 the good of Christ's kingdom on earth, disavowed any 
 malice toward the accused, represented the danger of 
 permitting so dangerous a man to be at liberty, and 
 ended by declaring Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, 
 to be a detestable heretic, and an enemy of the Catho- 
 lic Church ; and ordered him to be delivered over as 
 such to the secular power, for punishment. With a 
 countenance placid and cheerful, the heroic noble 
 heard the expected sentence. In a clear voice, in which 
 no tremor was discernible, he spoke to his mitred ene- 
 mies. " Though ye judge my body," said he, " which 
 is but a wretched thing, yet I am sure ye can do no 
 harm to my soul. He that created, will, of His infinite 
 mercy, save it according to His promise, by whose 
 eternal grace I will stand to what I have rehearsed, 
 even to the very death." He turned to the people, 
 and addressed them with a brief warning against the 
 priesthood ; then falling upon his knees, and raising 
 his eyes, he cried out in the magnanimity of his soul, 
 " Lord God Eternal ! I beseech Thee, for Thy great 
 mercy's sake, to forgive my pursuers, if it be Thy 
 blessed will ! " 
 
 History presents few spectacles more sublime than 
 this. Lofty and conscientious courage, the sense of 
 honor which refuses to sacrifice itself in the presence 
 of superior power, the pertinacity to adhere to convic- 
 tion in \ lie face of death, the true spirit of heroism and 
 martyrdom, never had a more striking illustration than 
 in I his wnrrioi'-iioble, this holy gentleman, Lord Cob- 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 271 
 
 ham. Yet we must not refuse justice to those who 
 " pursued " him, "because, in this nineteenth century, 
 we believe him to have held the true faith, and they 
 the error. "We cannot deny to them an earnest con- 
 viction that Lollardism was destructive of Christianity. 
 They regarded the Church as the only medium by 
 which the grace of God could approach His creatures. 
 They saw the rise of a sect which threatened to de- 
 stroy the Church. They found a great and influential 
 peer sustaining that sect with all his power. It can 
 hardly be regarded as infamous, then, that the fathers 
 of the Church, in a not refined age, should use their 
 authority to deprive the. heresy of so formidable an 
 ally. Lord Cobham was condemned to die by the 
 hands of the sheriff, and was remitted to the Tower to 
 await the execution of the sentence. Arundel was, 
 however, unwilling to impose punishment upon so 
 excellent a man, without one more attempt to reclaim 
 him to the Church. He obtained for him a respite 
 for six weeks, and proposed to occupy the interval 
 in seeking to persuade him of the error of his 
 ways. 
 
 Whilst Cobham was daily besieged by the impor- 
 tunities of the priests, his friends were active in his 
 behalf. A plan was formed for his escape. Every 
 preparation was made. One morning, the lieutenant 
 of the Tower, on going to his apartment, found Lord 
 Cobham missing. He had fled. In a short time news 
 came that he had safely crossed the Welsh border, 
 and was among those who could defend him against 
 the whole power of England. 
 
 The escape of their chief delighted and emboldened 
 the Lollards. One Sunday night they gathered to- 
 gether in great numbers in St. Giles's Fields, near Lon- 
 
-<2 IIENKY TIIE FIFTH. 
 
 don. The pretence was, that they had assembled to 
 hear the discourse of Beverly, a heretic preacher ; but 
 their real design was suspected to be more serious. 
 The King, who was enjoying the Christmas holidays 
 at Eltham, in Kent, was speedily apprised of the dan- 
 ger, and hastened back to Westminster. Having called 
 together what troops were at hand, Henry marched 
 out a little after midnight, and posted his force op- 
 posite the mob. The gates of London were closed. 
 There should be no coalition between the civil and 
 the religious mob. A party of stupid countrymen, 
 who had thought to join the Lollards, carelessly wan- 
 dered into the King's camp. They were at once seized, 
 and sent under escort into the city. The mob, hear- 
 ing of this disaster, and being disheartened by rumors 
 of the King's strength, began to retreat in confusion 
 about daybreak. Many of them were taken, and it 
 transpired that they proposed to join Lord Cobham, 
 and effect a religious revolution. 
 
 Henry issued a proclamation, offering a heavy re- 
 ward for the apprehension of the vigilant and restless 
 peer. The prisoners taken at St. Giles's were brought 
 to trial, convicted of treason and heresy, and either 
 burned or hanged. Among them were several per- 
 sons of note — Sir Roger Acton, Mr. Browne, and 
 Beverly, their popular orator. We can hardly ques- 
 tion the justice of this act, when it is considered that 
 stringent measures alone could curb the lawless spirit 
 which actuated this class. Their intentions were cer- 
 tainly not peaceful, and the fact that their leaders were 
 discovered to be the same men who had effected Cob- 
 ham's escape from the 'Power, draws us to the conclu- 
 sion that other acts, equally or more rebellious, would 
 have resulted from their conceit, had not Henry taken 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 273 
 
 prompt precautions to overcome them. There were 
 rumors that Lord Cobham was with them at St. Giles's 
 in person, but this is disproved by the subsequent evi- 
 dence that he was then organizing a conspiracy with 
 that disorderly people who had already given so much 
 vexation to both the late and the reigning sovereign. 
 
 Although it will be in a manner anticipating our 
 narrative, we will here conclude Lord Cobham's career, 
 that it may be a connected account. After reaching 
 Wales, he began to form conspiracies, and to encour- ' 
 age those in England who were inclined to kick against 
 the royal authority. A rumor that he was preparing 
 to raise the standard of religious insurrection, prompted 
 the King to send a force under the Lord Abergavenny 
 to Tewkesbury. Here were captured some of the Lol- 
 lards, who, being put to the torture, confessed treason- 
 able designs. But no trace of Cobham was found. 
 Then he was reported to be in Scotland, inciting that 
 people to invade England. Anon he was said to have 
 concealed himself near St. Albans in a peasant's hut. 
 Repeated search, however, did not discover his retreat. 
 After several years had passed, during which the vigi- 
 lance of the government had been unremitting, Lord 
 Powis succeeded in hunting the unfortunate outlaw 
 down, and brought him a prisoner to London. Par- 
 liament was then in session, and Lord Cobham's case 
 came at once before them. He had been wounded in 
 the attempt to escape capture, so that he was brought 
 to the bar of the House of Peers, who were to try 
 him as one of their body, on a litter. The various 
 charges which had accumulated were read against 
 him — the outlawry, the heresy, the treason. He was 
 asked if he had any response to make; he preserved 
 an obstinate silence. He was then sentenced to be 
 18 
 
274 HENRY TOE FIFTH. 
 
 half hanged, and afterward burned to death. On 
 Christinas morning, 1417, John Lord Cobham was 
 led from the Tower, and carried to St. Giles's Fields, 
 already renowned as the spot of the attempted riot. 
 A gallows had been erected. When he reached the 
 fatal scene, he fell upon the ground, and raised his 
 voice in brief and earnest prayer. He then arose, and 
 with a calm countenance addressed those who had as- 
 sembled to witness his execution. When a priest ad- 
 vanced to him and urged him to confess, " Nay," said 
 he, turning from him, "for God is here present; to 
 Him alone will I acknowledge my sins, from Him 
 alone ask or expect pardon." The rigid sentence 
 was then enforced. He was hung up with a chain 
 about his waist ; the fagots were kindled beneath 
 his feet ; his voice was heard in fervid praise of God ; 
 the wails of the multitude blended weirdly with 
 the crackling of the flames, and the body of the 
 suffering martyr soon became ashes at the feet of his 
 persecutors. 
 
 His courage was triumphant to the last. His sin- 
 cerity and ardor made him happy amidst the barbar- 
 ous torture, for he believed that it would turn to 
 unutterable joys. It was in vain for the priests to 
 harangue the people who witnessed this sublime and 
 dreadful scene; they displayed every passionate emo- 
 tion of pity and affection, as so noble a man was being 
 consumed by chain and flame. 
 
 Thus lived and died the illustrious Lord Cobham, 
 the first great martyr to the Protestant faith in Eng- 
 land. It is, perhaps, an invidious task to excuse the 
 severity of Jlenry the Fifth, after so mournful a scene 
 as that just described. Yet, if we comprehend the 
 matter in its widest range, it is apparent that Henry 
 
HENET THE FIETH. 275 
 
 would have violated every principle of his life, had he 
 refused to bring the penalty of the law upon his friend. 
 It was a far more justifiable act than the desertion of 
 Strafford by Charles the First ; for Strafford had com- 
 mitted no treason against his King, had threatened 
 no disturbance of the public tranquillity. Cobham 
 certainly committed political treason. He sought to 
 rouse the people against the crown. He set at defi- 
 ance the regal authority — nay, rather, the authority 
 of law. Henry could expect no submission to law, 
 while so restless, so able, so popular a leader as Lord 
 Cobham lived. It was clearly, with the King, a mat- 
 ter of conscience — of stern and uncompromising duty. 
 He had to exercise all his self-control to resist those 
 appeals of his heart which would persuade him to 
 screen his friend. But he had a higher duty than 
 friendship. It was for him to maintain the order, and 
 security, and dignity of the realm. He thought it was 
 also for him to maintain the dominion of the Church, 
 and thought so with all the sincerity of his nature. 
 Therefore, while we view with pain the sacrifice of so 
 fearless and ardent a champion of religious reformation, 
 while we regret that his power might not have been 
 used to more purpose, we must eschew sentiment in 
 the clear light of reason, and acquit Henry, educated 
 as he was, sincere as he was, merciful as he was, living 
 in the age he did, and tried as he was to the very 
 depths of his soul, of that barbarous perfidy and cru- 
 elty of which he has been charged. 
 
 The two first years of Henry's reign were devoted 
 to reconciling the Commons with the Church, and to 
 the suppression of Lollardism. There is evidence that 
 Henry was not only the defender of Catholicism, but 
 what will seem more estimable, that he was a reformer 
 
-70 IIENItY THE FIFTH. 
 
 in the Churcli. As far as tin; doctrines of the Estab- 
 lishment were concerned, lie was clear. He did not 
 for an instant doubt the sacred authority of the Pope, 
 the powers of the priesthood, the truth of those 
 dogmas which from time t< > time had laid a stone to 
 the Romish structure. He would on no account 
 strike any vital part. But his eyes were opened to 
 the abuses and corruptions which had crept into the 
 ecclesiastical system in England. His attention was 
 called to them not only by the Commons, who appear 
 to have been eager in their impatience of the prelates, 
 but also by wise prelates themselves, who foresaw the 
 tendency when once the Church had received the poi- 
 son of worldly avarice or licentiousness. Henry boldly 
 set about reforming the arrogance and evils of the 
 priesthood. He protected the lower classes from 
 those many petty oppressions which priests had long 
 boon accustomed to exercise. He confined as far as 
 possible the power of prelates in secular matters, and 
 their exclusiveness in the possession of property. He 
 caused acts to be passed prohibiting aliens from occu- 
 pying benefices or livings in England. He became 
 somewhat jealous of the Pope's political, as well as 
 religious influence ; and without absolutely breaking 
 with him, sought by every moderate means to curb 
 his too great control over English politics. 
 
 In a former chapter we have related how the 
 Church of Rome was divided by a great schism, which 
 separated it into two nearly equal tactions. A French 
 Pope had been elected in opposition to an Italian 
 Pope, and the Catholic nations had joined the party 
 ol' the one or the other as the interest and prejudice 
 of ciich dictated. We have seen that the French Pope, 
 Clement, was finally deposed by his own King, and 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 277 
 
 that Urban, his rival, was apparently established on 
 the sacred throne. 
 
 The tranquillity of the Church was, however, only 
 apparent. The death of Urban was the signal for a 
 revival of the schism in more serious proportions than 
 ever. The partisans of both the late Popes were ex- 
 asperated, obstinate, and determined to rule the 
 Church. The Italian party had elected one after the 
 other, as the successors of Urban, Boniface IX., Inno- 
 cent VII., and Gregory XII. ; while the French party 
 had chosen Peter de Luna, an Arragonese, as their 
 claimant for the tiara, with the pontifical title of Ben- 
 edict XUI. The schism continued under these con- 
 flicting Popes for many years. The Church was torn 
 with dissension ; corruptions crept in amid the con- 
 fusion ; the warfare between the factions far exceeded 
 that between orthodoxy and heresy ; the Catholic po- 
 tentates tried again and again to mend the rent ; and 
 finally, the evil became so enormous, that both sides 
 began to desire, if not a final adjustment, at least a 
 cessation of hostilities. It was at last agreed among 
 the sovereigns, that both the claimants to the tiara 
 should be constrained to resign, and that a hew pon- 
 tiff, capable of uniting the allegiance of both factions, 
 should be chosen by the Council of Cardinals. The 
 French Church was the first to move. They refused 
 to continue to Benedict, the successor of their own 
 Clement, their allegiance. The English prelates, less 
 prompt, made no further progress than to ask the 
 King to withhold from Gregory, whose authority they 
 had acknowledged, the stipend which the Pope was 
 accustomed to receive from the kingdom. These move- 
 ments were followed up by a long consultation among 
 the cardinals of the rival parties. A council was sum- 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 moned at Pisa, and it is probable that the programme 
 whs filled up before their Eminences met. But little 
 discussion took place. Benedict and Gregory were 
 deposed by the same act. A Greek prelate was elected 
 Pope, with the title of Alexander V. The Council, 
 thinking they had thus restored the Church to unity, 
 then rose. But the two Popes who had been so un- 
 ceremoniously disposed of, finding many discontented 
 persons among their partisans, rebelled against the 
 decision of the Pisan Council, and both announced 
 that they did not recognize the authority of that body 
 to depose them. Thus far from a united Church, 
 this sage Council had made three Popes, instead of one. 
 Of course, Alexander was not so modest as to with- 
 draw, but clung tenaciously to his new-gotten dignity 
 to the day of Lis death. When that event occurred, 
 a successor was elected by his party, who was styled 
 John XXIII. The Emperor Sigismund, of Germany, 
 one of the ablest and most active potentates of that 
 day, was very desirous to heal the schism. After 
 much effort, he prevailed on John to call a council to 
 consider the state of the Church. The result of this 
 was the ever memorable Council of Con-Stance. This 
 was toward the latter part of the year 1414. Henry 
 of England regarded most favorably the action of the 
 Emperor in seeking to restore harmony, and thus 
 power to the hierarchy. He entered cordially into 
 the plan, and resolved that England should be fully 
 represented at the Council. He appointed Robert 
 Ilallani, Bishop of Salisbury, the Bishops of Bath and 
 Worcester, the Earl of Warwick, the Abbots of West- 
 minster and Worcester, to attend the Council, and to 
 use the influence of England both to heal the schism 
 ami to reform the crying abuses which otherwise 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 279 
 
 choked the good influence of the Church. Soon after, 
 others were sent, in whose train followed a multitude 
 of nobles and gentlemen, with retinues, showing the 
 importance in which the assembly was regarded. 
 When the Council had convened, the representatives 
 of Henry and of the Emperor worked in unison for 
 the ends which both the sovereigns so ardently desired. 
 Hallam was especially active, and did not permit a day 
 to pass without inveighing against the confusion, the 
 corruption, and the inherent weakness which prevailed 
 in the Church. He used the most convincing argu- 
 ments in favor of reform, and was not deterred by the 
 impatience of the Cardinals, who were anxious to post- 
 pone every thing to the election of a Pontiff. Gregory, 
 the Italian Pope, resigned soon after the Council met. 
 John and Benedict, on the contrary, obstinately re- 
 tained the sacred title, and refused to submit to the 
 dictation of the sovereigns and prelates. They were, 
 accordingly, peremptorily deposed from the office of 
 pontiff. Events of the greatest moment now inter-* 
 vened, to withdraw the attention of Europe from the 
 Council, and to give a new direction to the destinies 
 of the principal powers of Christendom. 
 
CHAPTER VR 
 
 " Thus far into the bowels of the land 
 Have we marched on without impediment" 
 
 THE STATE OP FRANCE— PLANS OF INVASION— NEGOTIATIONS— SCROOP'S 
 PLOT— THE INVASION OF FRANCE— THE SIEGE OF HARFLEtTE— RETREAT 
 OF THE ENGLISH ARMT. 
 
 In his coronation speech, Henry the Fifth declared 
 it to be an ambition worthy of a great prince, to de- 
 rive glory from the achievements of war. The love 
 of the suspense, the excitement, and the triumphs of 
 the battle-field, was the predominant passion of his 
 soul. He had already evinced the qualities of a great 
 commander. He had won an enviable renown in the 
 presence of hostile armies. He had attracted to him 
 self both the affection and the confidence of his peo 
 pie. They were proud of him, and they looked for 
 ward to seeing him glorious and powerful. His con 
 fidence in himself, although not arrogant, was great 
 He could count upon a united people, a well-filled ex 
 chequer, a military ardor which longed for action ; and 
 there was bright promise that in whatever ho under- 
 took, lie would be successful. He looked about, there- 
 fore, with /.est for an opportunity. He would seek 
 that glory which had been his earliest dreaui, and 
 which would stamp his name upon the age. Scotland 
 was not the proper field; there warfare would be des- 
 
HENET THE FIFTH. 281 
 
 ultory, the gain little, and the fame but feeble recom- 
 pense. The Welsh had ceased to resist the royal 
 authority, and were to all intents submissive to the 
 officers of the Crown. But in another quarter of the 
 horizon a bright prospect opened before the ambitious 
 Prince. 
 
 France was still the unhappy theatre of civil strife, 
 and the prey of rival princes who cared little for the 
 nation, so that they were triumphant. The peace 
 which, we have seen, was made between King Charles 
 the Sixth and John of Burgundy on the one side, and 
 Armagnac, Orleans, Bourbon, and Berri on the other, 
 gave the regal authority to the King, which was tan- 
 tamount to placing it in the hands of Burgundy. 
 Prince Charles, the Dauphin, was but sixteen years 
 old, and had married a daughter of Burgundy. To 
 liim the. Armagnacs, in their despair, resorted. The 
 Dauphin, young as he was, had seen enough of John the 
 Fearless to dread and detest him. Probably a more 
 heartless and perfidious wretch never lived than this 
 man ; lie inspired those who were his interested friends, 
 the very instruments of his barbarity, with horror 
 and disgust. The Armagnacs easily persuaded young 
 Charles that the insanity of his father made it proper 
 that he should assume regal power. One night he 
 seized the Bastile, and summoned the people to the 
 support of the House of Valois, of which he was the 
 only representative. Many, who were displeased with 
 Burgundy, hastened to the Dauphin's standard ; but 
 Paris seems to have pertinaciously adhered to the 
 bloody Duke. John of Troyes, a surgeon, at the head 
 of the Parisians, made short work of the Prince. 
 They besieged his palace, took him and many of his 
 followers, and regained possession of the Bastile. The 
 
2S2 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 excesses and ignominies which always succeeded Bur- 
 gundy's triumphs, now took place in the metropolis. 
 No mercy was shown to the rival faction. Both King 
 Charles and the Dauphin were forced to wear the 
 white cap which was the Burgundian symbol. John 
 the Fearless flattered the people, and tyrannized over 
 them at will. This was the state of things when 
 Henry came to the throne of England. Soon after- 
 ward the Dauphin succeeded in getting loose from the 
 hateful bondage of his infant wife's father. With the 
 utmost despatch and secresy he began to organize the 
 Armagnacs who remained in Paris. Burgundy be- 
 came at last aware, that no less than thirty thousand 
 men, within the limits of the metropolis, were pre- 
 pared to oppose him. His efforts were but feeble to 
 resist the advancing tide, and he made all haste to 
 Flanders, that, amid his own domains, he might gather 
 up his energies for another trial. The King was now 
 in the hands of the young Duke of Orleans and of the 
 Dauphin, who persuaded the poor monarch, in a lucid 
 interval, to denounce Burgundy, and to put to death 
 a number of that prince's friends. 
 
 Here was an admirable chance for the interference 
 of a foreign army, and Henry, as well as his principal 
 advisers, were not slow to see it. It was not forgot- 
 ten that Edward the Third had taken the ground that 
 he was the heir to the French crown by the Queen 
 Isabella, and that he had well nigh confirmed his 
 claim at Creey and Poictiers. The treaty of Bretigni 
 had, indeed, done away with that claim : but the treaty 
 had been broken, and by France. England was there- 
 fore clearly not bound by it. 
 
 The claim of Edward, and therefore of Henry, 
 to the Krencli throne, was absurd. Nay, that of 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 283 
 
 Henry was even less plausible than that of Edward. 
 Edward claimed that his mother, as the eldest daugh- 
 ter of the King, was the heir to the throne ; hut the 
 Salic law forbade females, and if it had not, the daugh- 
 ter of her older brother, Louis the Tenth, was first 
 entitled to the succession. But had it been admitted 
 that Edward's title was clear, there was an irremediable 
 flaw in that of Henry. If Edward had a good title, 
 Richard the Second had a good title. If Eichard the 
 Second had abdicated the French when he abdicated 
 the English throne, the young Earl of March, yet liv- 
 ing, was clearly as much entitled to Edward's claim 
 on France, as to his crown in England. The only 
 ground which Henry could with the least reason take, 
 was that his father was the heir of an older brother 
 of Edward the Second ; by which claim, as we have 
 seen, Bolingbroke sought to justify his usurpation. 
 
 The English Church had reasons for urging Henry 
 to engage in a foreign war. They desired to turn 
 him from those projects in which the Commons sought 
 to interest him. It had been recommended that all 
 the lands and tithes belonging to the prelates, should 
 be seized for the replenishment of the royal exchequer. 
 Henry, although an earnest Churchman, and ever ready 
 to suppress Lollardism, was not so clear in regard to 
 the temporal wealth of the ecclesiastics, as to make 
 the priests sure that he would preserve them from 
 the attacks of the Commons. Archbishop Chicheley, 
 who in 1414 succeeded Arundel in the primacy, ear- 
 nestly advocated a war with France, and was sustained 
 in his importunities by the whole body of the prelates. 
 Henry listened with no unwilling ear to projects so 
 consonant with his taste and his ambition. Although 
 he proposed to renew the claim of Edward, he looked 
 
28-1 IIENKT THE FIFTH. 
 
 to other means for reclaiming the crown of France. He 
 determined to occupy that throne by right of conquest. 
 A parliament was held at Leicester, from which the 
 Church feared serious annoyance. But the legislators 
 were just now not inclined to attack the Establish- 
 ment, although they refused to pass some stringent 
 acts against Wickliffism which were urged by the 
 Church party. About the same time, the King, to 
 show his unaltered attachment toward Catholicism, 
 founded two monasteries; one on the site of that 
 palace which Richard refused to visit after the death 
 of his Queen, Anne, at Shene,* in Surrey, and another 
 at Sion, in Isle worth, afterward suppressed by Henry 
 VIII. 
 
 The first movement of Henry against France 
 was to despatch Lord Grey, the Bishop of Durham, 
 and several other noblemen to Charles, with a demand 
 for the hand of the Princess Katharine, and for a res- 
 titution of English rights in the French domain. The 
 first proposition of these ambassadors, however, on 
 arriving at the Louvre, was to demand the crown of 
 France for Henry ! Of course they did not expect it 
 to be granted; the probability is that they wished 
 to lay a ground for the future assertion of the claim 
 by force of arms. The next demand was for the 
 cession of Normandy, Touraine, Brittany, the lands 
 between the Somme and Gravel ine, Flanders. Anjou, 
 and Aquitaine ; to be held by Henry without fealty. 
 Then they asked that the ransom of King John (who 
 had been captured by the Black Prince at Poictiers), 
 which had never been satisfied, should be paid from 
 the French treasury; and added a. claim to the county 
 of Provence. They intimated that the Princess Kath- 
 
 * Now Richmond. 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH, 285 
 
 arine would be expected to bring to her lord two 
 million crowns as a royal dowry. 
 
 This was in the summer of 1414, when the Duke 
 John of Burgundy had fled from Paris, and the me- 
 tropolis was under the virtual government of Bourbon 
 and Orleans. The response of the French court was, 
 of course, not favorable to the propositions made. 
 They offered to cede Bayonne and Angouleme, and 
 some smaller domains. They declined to pay John's 
 ransom. They proposed the sum of eight hundred 
 thousand crowns as the Princess's marriage portion. 
 The King received this reply with secret satisfaction. 
 He knew that Burgundy was busy in the Low Coun- 
 tries, gathering an armament to reenter France. He 
 foresaw that Charles and Orleans would soon become 
 again involved in a fierce and destructive civil war. 
 He had already laid the foundation for invading that 
 kingdom, by placing his demands before the King. 
 He had only to wait for the blooming of internal con- 
 flict, to bring his schemes to fruition. 
 
 On the 18th of November, 1414, Parliament met, 
 by the King's decree, at "Westminster. It was opened 
 by Henry in person, who occupied the throne in state. 
 Henry Beaufort, Bishop of "Winchester, who had just 
 been elevated to the Chancellorship, was the first to 
 address the assembled legislators. He arose soon 
 after the proceedings began, and announced that his 
 Majesty had resolved to attempt the recovery of the 
 crown of France, and to vindicate that quartering on 
 his escutcheon which had long borne the fletvrs-de-lis, 
 in token of English supremacy. He took as his 
 text the passage, " Whilst we have time, let us do 
 good." With that forensic ability and sophistry for 
 which he was the most noted man of his time, Beau- 
 
28G 1IENBY TIIE FTFTn. 
 
 fort described the advantages of a conquest, to the 
 Church and State; by every effort of eloquence strove 
 to kindle in the breasts of his auditors an enthusiasm 
 for the project; and recapitulated the work which 
 must be done before it could meet with success. His 
 speech seems to have had its desired effect. The 
 Commons elected Thomas Chaucer, a son of the poet, 
 Speaker, and proceeded to " grant to the King, for 
 the honor of God, and from the great love and affec- 
 tion which they bore toward their sovereign, two 
 entire fifteenths and two entire tenths, for the defence 
 of the kingdom of England and the safeguard of the 
 seas." 
 
 The Convocation of the Church and the Council 
 of Peers met about the same time ; and the same sub- 
 ject was brought before them. The English barons, 
 descended as they were from the crusaders, and full 
 of that turbulent spirit which must find some outlet, 
 were entirely favorable to Henry's scheme. The King 
 issued a proclamation, calling upon the vassals of the 
 crown to rally for the glory of England. A rivalry 
 at once arose among the great barons to outstrip each 
 other in the number and magnificence of their retinues. 
 The young Earl of Northumberland, all aglow with 
 devotion toward his royal benefactor, and exultant in 
 the prospect of sustaining the ancient valor of the 
 Percys on a field worthy of their renown, put himself 
 at the head of his tenantry, and promptly offered him- 
 self to Henry in aid of the expedition. "Westmore- 
 land, the time-honored and constant friend of the 
 House of Lancaster, quickly announced that his reti- 
 nue was ready for embarkation. Every day letters 
 cm ue. from eager nobles, with the intelligence that the 
 feudal power of the nation was rising to the occasion. 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 287 
 
 But Henry was too wise not to see that a feudal 
 armament was not all-sufficient for a foreign expedi- 
 tion. The caprice of the barons, and the exclusive- 
 ness of the commands, might render it difficult to 
 maintain a united army. He ordered each county, 
 therefore, to furnish a quota according to its popula- 
 tion, and instituted a system of recruiting the ranks 
 of the army by volunteers. Thus he would obtain a 
 permanent force, on which he could always rely. He 
 sent agents to the Low Countries for the purpose of 
 hiring transports and provision ships. 
 
 " He strictly prohibited in the maritime towns the 
 exportation of gunpowder; laid an embargo on all 
 vessels of above twenty tons burden ; gave leave, in 
 many instances, to impress seamen for manning them; 
 and made all the preparations for carriages, stores, 
 arms, which the low state of the. arts at that time and 
 his narrow pecuniary resources allowed." * An army 
 of carpenters, masons, smiths, and builders were set to 
 work to get ships and stores ready with the utmost 
 despatch. An order was issued to the sheriffs of the 
 shires to buy beef. The sheriff of the county of 
 Hampshire was to have bread baked, and ale brewed, 
 for the expedition. A nightly watch was established 
 throughout England, who were ordered to permit no 
 stranger to abide at an inn more than twenty-four 
 hours, unless he made known the reasons of his sojourn. 
 A council of prelates and peers was called. Beaufort 
 announced the progress of the preparations. John 
 Duke of Bedford was appointed lieutenant of the 
 kingdom during the King's absence in France, with 
 an advisory council of ten, of whom Chicheley, the 
 Primate, was the first in dignity, and Beaufort, the 
 
 * Brougham. 
 
28S HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 Chancellor, in ability. A generous supply was grant- 
 ed by Parliament. The session of the courts was 
 suspended. Forces sufficient for the purpose were 
 sent to watch the Scotch and Welsh borders. The 
 pay-roll of the period is interesting to look over. It 
 was agreed by Henry that the services of his barons 
 and their retinues should be paid as follows : a duke 
 had 13s. 4 d. per day, an earl 0.« 8^., a baron 4-5'., a 
 knight 2 s., a squire 12'/., and an archer C</. When 
 the supply which Parliament had voted had been col- 
 lected, Henry found the gross sum of his revenue yet 
 insufficient for his enterprise. He at once issued a 
 proclamation appealing to his subjects for a loan, which 
 brought a considerable addition to the treasury. Not 
 yet satisfied, the King sold or pawned his jewels and 
 precious wares, and managed in other ways to pro- 
 cure the necessary monies to support the expedition. 
 Whilst these preparations were going on, in the 
 fall of 1414, ambassadors were passing between the 
 countries with the design, on the part of France, to 
 avert impending invasion, and on the part of England, 
 to gain time. Charles, with a foolish purpose of an- 
 noying his royal cousin, sent Henry a present of some 
 animals, which Henry acknowledged in the following 
 racy epistle:* "Cousin of France, I greet you. I 
 thank you of your gifts that ye sent me, for they be 
 necessary. The sow hath granted me to come with me 
 to your country, and make Avar, and overturn, and 
 make plain field, and I have granted her all that be- 
 longed) to her faculty. Also the boar hath made 
 covenant Avith beasts of my country, to teach them 
 the way to France; that is to say, the white lion of 
 Ireland, the black bull with gilt horns, the boar, the 
 
 * ltiilllwelPs Lotlcrs. 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 289 
 
 wolf, the dragon, the white boar, the white greyhound, 
 and other more of their affinity ; the which intend to 
 come to the field in France, to answer whosoever will 
 come of all parties, with the grace of God. Then I 
 must blow, my horn, and follow my beasts, and my 
 beasts must follow the chase, and so shall we hunt 
 through all the parts of France. And then I will 
 blow my horn, and relieve my hounds ; and I trust to 
 God and to our Lady that your derision shall turn 
 you to shame, for you wot of right I am master of 
 the game. Furthermore, if it be not well, let it be 
 amended by the lords of your council." 
 
 This letter shows how confident Henry was of his 
 future success, and how little he regarded the anger 
 of Charles. Another letter, of more serious import, 
 was sent to the French King, from Southampton, in 
 the following summer : 
 
 " Most serene Prince, our cousin and adversary : 
 
 "The two great and noble kingdoms of England 
 and France, formerly brothers, but now divided, had 
 usually been eminent throughout all the world by 
 their triumphs. They combined but for the generous 
 object of enriching and adorning the House of God, 
 to place peace in all her boundaries, to make it flour- 
 ish within its whole extent, and to join their arms 
 against her adversaries, as against public enemies. 
 They never encountered them, that they did not hap- 
 pily subdue them. But alas ! this faithful union is 
 vanished ; we are fallen into the unhappy condition of 
 Lot and Abraham. The honor of this fraternal friend- 
 ship is buried ; her death and her sepulture have re- 
 vived Dissension, that old enemy of human nature, 
 19 
 
290 IIENKY THE FIFTH. 
 
 which may justly be called the mother of Hatred and 
 of War. 
 
 " The Sovereign Judge of sovereigns will he our 
 witness one day, of the sincere inclination with which 
 we have sought peace, and how we have employed 
 prayers and promises to persuade you to it, even by 
 giving up the possession of a State which belongs to 
 us by hereditary right, and which nature would oblige 
 us to preserve for our posterity. We are not so want- 
 ing in sense and courage, but that we are resolved at 
 last to fight with all our strength, even to death. But 
 as the law of Deuteronomy commands that whoever 
 appears in arms before a town should offer it peace 
 before it is besieged, we have, even up to the present 
 time, done all which our rank allows peaceably to 
 recover the possession of that which belongs to us by 
 legitimate succession, and to reunite to our crown that 
 which you wrongfully and by violence possess; so 
 much so, that, from your refusing justice, we may 
 rightfully have recourse to the force of arms. 
 
 " Our honor, however, and the testimony of our 
 conscience, oblige us once more, in going against you, 
 to demand the reason of your refusal, and to exhort 
 you, in the name of the merciful bowels of Jesus 
 Christ, to do us justice, and to say to you that which 
 He teaches, ' Friend, give me that which thou owest 
 me.' 
 
 " To avoid a deluge of human blood, restore to us 
 our inheritance, which you unjustly detain, or render 
 us, at least, that which Ave have so many times de- 
 manded by our ambassadors. Only the love and fear 
 of God, and the advantages of peace, have made us 
 contented with so little; and we were willing, on that 
 account, to remit lit'ty thousand crowns of that which 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 291 
 
 we Lave been offered in marriage, to show that we 
 are more inclined to peace than to avarice ; that we 
 prefer the title which our father has left us to those 
 to which we have legitimate pretensions by represen- 
 tation from our forefathers, and that we are disposed 
 to lead an innocent life with your fair and noble 
 daughter Katharine, our very dear cousin, than to 
 enrich ourselves with the treasure of iniquity, to adore 
 the idol of riches, and to extend and increase our 
 crown (which God forbid !) to the prejudice of our 
 conscience. 
 
 " Given under our hand and seal, in our town 
 of Southampton, upon the sea-side, the 28th of 
 July." 
 
 This letter is one of the most brilliant and inter- 
 esting which has been laid before the reader. It 
 clearly bears evidence of the vigorous character of 
 Henry, his familiarity with Scripture, and his elegance 
 of language. It has that fearless, ringing, almost ex- 
 ultant tone, which was the true quality of his soul. 
 If the justice of his claim does not appeal to the judg- 
 ment, the chivalrous assertion of it, and the zealous 
 determination to vindicate it, compels admiration. 
 "We cannot follow the example, however, of those 
 eulogists of Henry who strain to justify his claim to 
 the French crown, and strive to make us believe that 
 he was .convinced in truth of its justice. It is believed 
 that the character of the King is on the whole so admi- 
 rable, that, considering the age in which he lived, his 
 education, the approval of the Church to schemes of 
 conquest, the idea of national glory, and an ambition 
 both natural and countenanced by the best men in 
 the world, he will be esteemed and loved even better, 
 if, after all, we find him mortal. It was no crime, in 
 
292 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 those days, to set up a preposterous claim, to secure 
 greatness to a country and glory to a crown. When 
 the events of Henry's military career are related, it 
 will be seen that he was a forbearing and humane 
 conqueror. He made war leniently ; that is one of 
 his best claims to the praise of later ages. He frowned 
 upon unnecessary destruction of life and property. 
 He did much to Christianize war. The generals 
 of the eighteenth century might have followed his 
 example with the greatest credit. When the reader 
 shall have arrived at the conclusion of this brief but 
 illustrious career, it will be to look back upon a great, 
 successful, magnanimous, perhaps not entirely unsul- 
 lied reign ; and he will remember a multitude of virtues 
 with which to obliterate the record of a few crimes. 
 The character of Henry will, taken as a whole, shine 
 with a brightness unobscured by his rare errors ; and 
 his memory will be a pleasant and a beloved memory. 
 His wrongful acts are so few, that they will well bear 
 exposure ; his virtues were enough far to overshadow 
 them. 
 
 Mr. Tyler, one of his biographers, has devoted 
 much space to a very vain object — an attempt to prove 
 that Henry really believed in his right to the French 
 crown. If this proposition were established, it would 
 be at the expense of Henry's intellectual sagacity ; and 
 such an imputation would be far from just. We can- 
 not concede Henry to have been stupid, that he may be 
 proved innocent of injustice. We would rather see him 
 as he was, the hero who fought for the glory of England, 
 the renown of his own dynasty of Lancaster, and to 
 elevate the Lion and the Red Rose on the towel's of 
 the Louvre; the beneficent Prince, whose subjects 
 loved him for himself more and more as the years 
 
HENRY THE EHTH. 293 
 
 went by; as the virtuous and tender husband ; as the 
 faithful friend ; as the upright giver of laws ; as the 
 devoted Christian ; as the dispenser of both justice and 
 mercy, inclining always to the gentler and more god- 
 like attribute. 
 
 The French tried one more effort to dissuade the 
 King from his enterprise. "When he had departed 
 from London on his way to Southampton, where his 
 armament was collected, he was met at Winchester 
 by the Bishops of Bourges and Lisieux, ambassadors 
 from Charles. Their proposals were more liberal than 
 ever, offering to cede the territory of Limousin, in ad- 
 dition to the provinces already proposed, and 850,000 
 crowns. The King promptly refused these terms, and 
 again urged his claim to the crown. The French 
 prelates were so overcome by their failure, that they 
 broke out in violent denunciations and threats against 
 Henry. Archbishop Chicheley, who was in com- 
 pany with the King, responded in language hardly 
 less bitter, and the enraged envoys abruptly left the 
 royal presence, and returned to wretched France' to 
 carry their ill-fated tidings. 
 
 When Henry reached Southampton, he found a well- 
 equipped army of 30,000 men awaiting him, and all 
 the necessary engines and paraphernalia of war which 
 the age afforded. Abundance of provision and cloth- 
 ing was collected. Fifteen hundred vessels were assem- 
 bled in the port. The great barons, with their respec- 
 tive quotas, had arrived, and were awaiting the royal 
 commands. It was about the middle of July when the 
 King's retinue reached the port of embarkation. The 
 army was put under marching orders, the provisions 
 and arms were placed on board the transports, and the 
 fleet was prepared for immediate departure. The or- 
 
21)4 
 
 IIENRY HIE FIFTH. 
 
 dor was issued to sail on the morning of July 22d. 
 On the previous evening, however, an incident oc- 
 curred which delayed the armament some days. This 
 was no less than the detection of a formidable con- 
 spiracy against Henry, which had been planned by 
 some of the most influential nobles of his suite. Henry 
 Lord Scroop, Lord High Treasurer, although a mem- 
 ber of the family of the rebellious Archbishop of 
 York, had been one of Henry's most trusted friends. 
 He had received every kindness at the hands of his 
 sovereign, and had been elevated by him to the high- 
 est dignities of state. He had been received on inti- 
 mate terms in the palace, and had had his place con- 
 stantly at the side of the King. This wretched traitor 
 was one of the leading spirits in a conspiracy to seize 
 and dethrone his benefactor, and restore the line of 
 the House of March. In complicity with him were 
 Richard of Coningsburg, second son of the Duke of 
 York, and grandson of Edward the Third, who had 
 been created by Henry Earl of Cambridge, and had 
 received every mark of favor during the present reign; 
 and Sir Thomas Grey, a Northumberland knight of 
 some note. The plot was so hastily contrived and so 
 carelessly conducted, that information of it happily 
 came to the King's ears on the very eve of his depar- 
 ture. The three nobles were at once arrested. Cam- 
 bridge, who was as weak as he was wicked, overcome 
 by fear, no sooner found himself in custody than he 
 confessed the whole design. He not only implicated 
 Scroop and Grey, but also charged young March, who 
 was present, with a complicity in it, having it in his 
 mind to obtain the crown, as was his hereditary right, 
 for himself. It is said, however, that it was March 
 himself who discovered the plot to the King — a not 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 295 
 
 improbable fact, as Henry continued to repose in him 
 the same confidence he had always evinced. An ex- 
 traordinary commission was speedily instituted to try 
 the offenders. The Earl of Nottingham, Earl Mar- 
 shal, two judges, six peers, and Sir Thomas Erping- 
 ham, constituted the court. A jury was summoned, 
 and the conspirators were brought to the bar. The 
 evidence produced was especially damaging to Cam- 
 bridge and Grey. The jury at once found them 
 guilty of high treason. Scroop's guilt was less patent, 
 and he was convicted of high treason for privity in 
 the conspiracy. The plan, as it was unfolded at the 
 trial, was to carry the Earl of March to the frontier 
 of Wales, and there proclaim him King of England ; 
 and at the same time the King and his brothers were 
 to be seized, and, if necessary, destroyed. Cambridge 
 and Grey confessed, and submitted themselves to the 
 royal mercy. Scroop, although he admitted a knowl- 
 edge of the general scheme, vehemently denied that 
 he knew of the plan to take the person of his Majesty; 
 and demanded a trial by his peers. Henry called to- 
 gether such lords as were at Southampton, and com- 
 manded them to try the appeal, in which Cambridge, 
 as a noble, had likewise joined. Grey, being but a 
 knight, was sentenced by the other court. The proofs 
 of guilt against Scroop and Cambridge were only the 
 clearer at the second trial. On Monday, the 5th of 
 August, the peers, the Duke of Clarence presiding, 
 adjudged the accused of high treason, and condemned 
 them to death, with the usual process of torture. The 
 latter part of the sentence the King, with his usual 
 magnanimity, revoked. Grey was beheaded first, then 
 followed Scroop and Cambridge. Thus justly con- 
 cluded this audacious and criminal attempt against 
 
296 HENRY TICE FIFTH. 
 
 one of the kindest sovereigns and most constant 
 friends who ever lived to bless his subjects. 
 
 Henry was now free to embark upon his great en- 
 terprise, and, exchanging his crown for a helmet, to 
 advance to the most enviable laurels which it was pos- 
 sible for martial valor to achieve. On the morning 
 of the 15th* of August the noble fleet set sail, 
 and, leaving the port of Southampton, turned their 
 prows toward the coast of Normandy. The seers, 
 who were ever upon the watch for omens, discovered 
 two events which to their minds were significant, 
 soon after the ships got under way. A flock of swans 
 came floating about the masts of the King's ship, and 
 seemed by their motions to beckon him on toward 
 France. This was a favorable sign. But anon a great 
 fire broke out in one of the ships, casting a lurid light 
 upon the scene ; which, although it was extinguished 
 without having effected much damage, gave the sooth- 
 sayers an opportunity for foreboding and predicting 
 difticulties. Toward evening, on the 16th, after a pros- 
 perous voyage, the fleet arrived at Clef de Caux, a small 
 place in Normandy, at the mouth of the Seine, and 
 seven miles from Harfleur. The troops were not op 
 posed, and came safely off from the transports. As 
 soon as the King landed, he took off his helmet, and, 
 kneeling upon the ground, prayed God for his bless- 
 ing on the enterprise. When the army was encamped, 
 Henry ordered that the festival of the Assumption 
 of the Virgin should be celebrated with meet solem- 
 nity and pomp. 
 
 After a brief delay, the army was set rapidly in 
 motion toward IlainVur, the principal citadel of de- 
 fence in those parts. A proclamation Avas issued by 
 
 • Rymcr. Klmvo miys tho Itttli. Wo iiilopt Lord Brougham's t>oi\jcoture. 
 
HEKBT THE FIFTH. 297 
 
 the King's especial order, to forbid, on pain of death, 
 the violation of churches or priests ; to promise pro- 
 tection to all who did not bear arms against him; and 
 to insure the safety of the contiguous lands and houses. 
 The brief march of seven miles was soon accomplished. 
 Beneath the walls of the strongly fortified town the 
 English encampment was made ; and the French, who 
 looked with alarm over their battlements toward the 
 hostile armament, saw that rapid preparations were 
 making to besiege them. Henry had a large tent 
 erected in the midst of his soldiers, and within that, a 
 smaller tent, to be used as a chapel. The young mon- 
 arch had no sooner found himself once more in the 
 presence of an adversary, than he gave his whole soul 
 up to the consideration of his position. He ordered 
 constant religious services to be performed throughout 
 the camp, issued stringent commands against revelry 
 and disorder, called together in his tent those generals 
 who were most experienced in French warfare, and 
 occupied himself day and night with the study of the 
 best means by which to reduce his enemies to sub- 
 mission. His daily life was one of hard labor. He 
 denied to himself- every self-indulgence; even sleep 
 was too great a luxury for him. He went through 
 his camps many times, haranguing the soldiers, ex- 
 horting them to patience and moderation, yet encour- 
 aging them to hope for glories near at hand. 
 
 On Sunday, August 18th, the siege of Harfleur 
 began; and it continued thereafter without respite for 
 five weeks. Harfleur, according to the account of one 
 who was present at the siege, was completely sur- 
 rounded by embattled walls, and was further fortified 
 by three high and solid towers. There were trenches 
 below the walls, and three gates, one on the west side, 
 
- ( .>8 1IKNKY THE FIFTH. 
 
 opposite Henry's camp, and two on the east side, inac- 
 cessible to Mm. Before each gate a barbican or bul- 
 wark was erected for its defence. The bulwark which 
 confronted Henry was composed of thick brush, closely 
 put together, the interior of which was filled com- 
 pactly with beams and earth, having apertures whence 
 the besieged might annoy their besiegers. The port 
 toward the sea admitted vessels to the very middle 
 of the town, and was defended by towers of excellent 
 build. The town itself was a pleasant one, having a 
 fine church and many noble buildings. The order 
 having been given to begin the siege, foraging parties 
 were sent out into the neighboring country to collect 
 provisions, since the King expected to remain there a 
 considerable time. Henry's engineers saw at a glance 
 that it would be no holiday task to reduce so formi- 
 dable a fortification. On the same day, a French 
 knight, Baron de Gaucourt, succeeded in throwing 
 three hundred lances into the town on the other side, 
 which had not as yet been occupied by the English. 
 The Duke of Clarence, the King's younger brother, 
 whose daring throughout this siege was the subject 
 of universal praise, instantly set out on a circuitous 
 route round the town to cut off the communications 
 on the east side. Before he reached the destined 
 point he encountered the enemy in larger force ; but 
 such was the impetuosity of his attack, that they re- 
 tired within the walls, leaving in his hands some arms, 
 ammunition, and stores which had just arrived from 
 Rouen. Tie encamped for the night on the spot of 
 the skirmish. At early dawn on Monday, Clarence 
 onee more put his men ill motion, and soon after day- 
 light gained the top of a lull on the open side, and 
 thus found himsolf in a position to shut off all inter- 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 299 
 
 course between the enemy within and their country- 
 men without. Meanwhile, Henry's fleet came off the 
 harbor, and blockaded the sea side of the town, while 
 his lighter boats held the river. Thus Harfleur be- 
 came completely invested. 
 
 The King then, according to the usage, sent into 
 the town a demand for its immediate surrender. The 
 response was prompt and defiant. The engineers 
 without delay began to plant their engines against the 
 walls, and soon the various batteries, shielded by 
 planks, were ready to begin the work of destruction. 
 Every expedient for reducing a citadel was put into 
 requisition; strong patrols maintained the guard of 
 the outer limits. A graphic historian* says : " It is 
 said that on this occasion the English used engines 
 which threw stones of such an enormous size, that the 
 walls fell with a frightful noise, and speedily destroyed 
 the fortifications. The enemy are admitted to have 
 conducted themselves with great bravery, and the 
 zeal of their opponents was not greater than was dis- 
 played by the garrison in resisting their various strat- 
 agems and assaults. When they were no longer pro- 
 tected by their walls and bulwarks, they fired on the 
 English through the ruins ; and employed the night 
 in endeavoring to repair the mischief which the bat- 
 tering train had done during the day, by filling up 
 the breaches with wood, earth, mud, and sand. A 
 great number of pots charged with lime, sulphur, burn- 
 ing earth, and heated oil, were prepared to throw on 
 the besiegers in case of an assault." 
 
 The operations 'of the English army were under 
 the personal superintendence of the King. He took 
 no report for granted, but visited the works daily, 
 
 * Sir Harris Nicholas. 
 
300 HENltY THE FIFTH. 
 
 made suggestions to the engineers, maintained disci- 
 pline among the troops, and himself took every pre- 
 caution against surprise or the reinforcement of the 
 town. His military ardor was soon quite aroused; 
 he found himself entirely at home amid these scenes, 
 so much in contrast with the elegant ease he had left 
 at Windsor and Westminster. But a calamity more 
 terrible, if possible, than the necessary evils of Avar, 
 now visited the English camp. A fatal pestilence 
 appeared amongst the soldiers, and, increasing with 
 rapidity, soon spread suffering and dismay throughout 
 the army. Then the scene became in truth sad to 
 contemplate. The confusion and noise of battle min- 
 gled with the moans of thousands ; whilst the vigorous 
 fell at their posts, the victims of the distemper writhed 
 in torture worse than death in the tents near by. The 
 young, the noble, the strong, the brave lay side by 
 side, levelled by the democracy of disease, and pray- 
 ing frantically that the destroyer might take them 
 from the world. Richard Courtenay, Bishop of Nor- 
 wich, one of the King's best beloved friends, became 
 a victim of the pestilence. As he lay suffering in his 
 tent, his loving pupil and sovereign came alone to 
 him, and, kneeling by his couch, prayed with him and 
 comforted him. In the presence of death Henry bore 
 himself meekly and with humble heart. He received 
 with tender anxiety the dying words of the venerable 
 prelate, and, with tears of proud hope, pictured to the 
 departing soul the glories which were in store for it. 
 As the end approached, Henry supplied the bishop's 
 wants with affectionate care, and lI with his own hands 
 wiped the chilled feet of the dying man." Tims Henry 
 could find time, amid all the anxieties of an active 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 301 
 
 siege, to devote himself to the solemn and tender task 
 of soothing the last hours of a faithful friend. 
 
 ' Many attempts were made by the unfortunate gar- 
 rison to divert and discourage their besiegers. Am- 
 buscades were planned, in order to induce the English 
 to emerge from their cover ; and once a party of cavalry 
 having come too near the camp, the English fell upon 
 them with such energy that they were captured, among 
 them Lord L'Isle Adam and Sir James de Bremin, 
 both warriors of considerable note. As tie weeks 
 passed on, the besieged were reduced to extreme want. 
 Their provisions were rapidly disappearing; so was 
 their ammunition. Their walls were falling one after 
 another, and their stately towers began to totter at 
 every shock of the hostile fire. Within the town were 
 burning houses, streets full of ragged and hungry 
 women and children, the commission of every disorder 
 which usually attends general distress and confusion. 
 Occasionally, at the breaches, there would be fierce 
 skirmishes between the adversaries. Meanwhile the 
 devoted garrison looked in vain for succor from the 
 Dauphin, who, amid terror and divided counsel, neg- 
 lected to aid his faithful city. The siege was kept up 
 by the English with unceasing energy; every day 
 gave a greater hope of ultimate success ; and they 
 were so brave as not to be discouraged by the preva- 
 lence of the frightful pestilence. Repeated summons 
 were sent demanding a surrender; each time the bearers 
 of the white flag returned with a determined refusal. 
 At last Henry's patience gave way. He decided to 
 assault. after one more summons. On the 17 th of Sep- 
 tember his heralds were sent within the walls with 
 the ultimatum of the King. Gaucourt, who was in 
 command, looked over his ground, came to the conclu- 
 
302 HENEY THE FIFTH. 
 
 sion that his case was not yet desperate, and returned 
 the same reply as before. Henry prepared to storm 
 the town the next morning. In the night, an active 
 skirmishing took place, in order that the garrison, 
 being bereft of sleep, might be the less active in resist- 
 ance. Before morning the courage of the noble band 
 finally gave way. A message was sent to the Duke 
 of Clarence, soliciting a conference with the King's 
 envoys. Lords Dorset and Fitzhugh, and Sir Thomas 
 Erpingham, accordingly went within the town. Gau- 
 court first plead for an armistice till the 6th of October, 
 offering to deliver up the town at that time if he 
 meanwhile received no reenforcement ; then asked for 
 a cessation till the ensuing Sunday. Both proposi- 
 tions were promptly rejected ; he was told that the 
 town should yield at discretion and at once, or else be 
 sul gected to a desperate assault. On Wednesday morn- 
 ing, September 18th, it was finally arranged that Har- 
 fleur should be given up without conditions to King 
 Henry of England. The ceremony of receiving the 
 submission of the citizens was an impressive one. 
 Nicholas says: "Benedict, Bishop of Bangor, the 
 King's chaplain, dressed in his pontificals, earned the 
 Eucharist (Host) to the walls of Harfleur, being pre- 
 ceded by thirty-two chaplains, each in his surplice, 
 amice, and cope, and attended by as many esquires, 
 dressed alike, one of whom bore a lighted taper be- 
 fore every priest. The commissioners and hostages 
 having been mutually sworn on the sacred elements 
 to the conditions, the inhabitants were told that they 
 need not fear improper treatment, as the King had no 
 wish to ruin his territory; and the bishop and his 
 retinue then returned lo the. camp." 
 
 Arrangements were made with all despatch to re- 
 
HENRI THE FIFTH. 303 
 
 ceive the conqueror within the gates of the town, and 
 on the following Sunday full possession was taken. 
 This event was accompanied by an imposing ceremony, 
 in which both parties had a share. A throne was 
 erected beneath a silk pavilion, on the summit of the 
 eminence near the city which had first been occupied 
 by Clarence. Thither King Henry proceeded in state, 
 arrayed in his regal robes, and having about him the 
 principal nobles of his retinue, habited in their rich- 
 est garments. On his right hand went Sir Gilbert 
 Umfreville, Earl of Kyme, bearing the royal helmet, 
 surmounted by the crown of England, upon a halberd- 
 staff. " Our King," says an old writer who saw him, 
 " sat in his estate as royal as did ever any king ; and 
 as it is said, there never was a Christian King so loyal, 
 neither so lordly, sat in his seat as did he." The grace- 
 ful form and manly bearing of Henry must have shown 
 to rare advantage on this proud day. His handsome 
 and attractive countenance, flushed with the exulta- 
 tion of a first great triumph, must have inspired every 
 Englishman with love, and every Frenchman with ad- 
 miration. The victorious army was drawn up in two 
 lines between the hill and the town, making a wide 
 avenue between them. Through this open space Sir 
 Lionel Bracquemont, Governor of Harfleur, Baron Gau- 
 court, with a train of renowned nobles and knights, 
 proceeded from the gate up to the foot of the throne. 
 The consecrated Host was borne before them by pre- 
 lates, and they were attended by the principal civic 
 dignitaries of the town. When they came to the 
 royal presence, Sir Lionel advanced to the throne, 
 knelt, and laid the keys at the King's feet, saying : 
 " Most victorious Prince, behold here are the keys of 
 this town, which by treaty and conquest we yield unto 
 
304 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 you, with myself and my followers." The Earl Mar- 
 shal received them in the name of the King. The 
 King then turned to the governor, and promised that 
 all the clemency compatible with the objects of the 
 expedition should be yielded to the inhabitants of 
 Harfleur. Sixty-six hostages, which had been promised, 
 were delivered over. Then Henry entertained the 
 French nobles with great hospitality and dignity. 
 The banners of St. George and Lancaster soon floated 
 from the yet lofty towers. It was in vain to attempt 
 the suppression of pillage ; but what measures Henry 
 could take to that end, in the confusion of the hour, 
 he did. Thomas Beaufort, Earl of Dorset, the great 
 uncle of the King, was appointed the military Gov- 
 ernor, and the keys were placed in his hands. On the 
 next morning Henry entered the gates in person. 
 When he found himself within the town, he dismount- 
 ed from his horse, took off his shoes and stockings, 
 and thus he proceeded on his bare feet to the church, 
 where he gave thanks for his victory. One of Henry's 
 first acts after his entrance was, to banish all who 
 would not swear allegiance to him as King of France. 
 These brave but wretched people, who were thus so 
 suddenly thrust from their homes, went out of Har- 
 fleur with every expression of grief, carrying their lit- 
 tle bundles of apparel and food, and took up their 
 temporary abode at St. Aubin, about four miles off, 
 whore they were refreshed with wine and bread. The 
 next day they were sent by water to Rouen. Some 
 of the principal nobles were suffered to depart on 
 their parole, with the hope that they would be useful 
 to Ncritrc the. further submission of the French. Henry, 
 as soon as practicable, instituted order and justice in 
 the town, and reduced his army to its former disci- 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 305 
 
 pline. The rigor which he found it necessary to use, 
 was made as light as possible, and on the whole he set 
 a good example to the generals of his age for mod- 
 eration and humanity. He desired, we doubt not 
 with sincerity, to shed as little blood in the accom- 
 plishment of his purposes as the exigency would ad- 
 mit of. If he loved military glory, he was yet tender- 
 hearted enough to be shocked by the cruelties and 
 miseries of war. 
 
 He resolved, now that he had gained so considerable 
 an advantage — for Harfleur was one of the strongest 
 ports in Normandy — to try other means to secure the 
 French crown before he proceeded again to the extrem- 
 ity of battle. He determined to send to the Dauphin 
 a personal challenge, by which he hoped to overcome 
 him in single contest for the French crown, and thus 
 avoid a more wholesale carnage. It must be remember- 
 ed that the King of France was at this time entirely 
 under the Dauphin's management, and that the power 
 of the crown was in the hands of the latter. The 
 letter was as follows : * 
 
 " Henry, by the grace of God, King of France and 
 England, Lord of Ireland, to the high and mighty 
 prince, the Dauphin of Vienne, our cousin, eldest son 
 of the very powerful prince, our cousin and adversary 
 of France. 
 
 " Whereas, from reverence to God, and to avoid 
 the shedding of human blood, we have, many times 
 and in many ways, sued and sought for peace, and 
 have not been able to obtain it; and;notwithstand. 
 ing this, our desire of having it increaseth more, and 
 more, and well considering that our wars occasion 
 
 * Halliwell's Letters. 
 20 
 
30G 1IENET THE FIFTH. 
 
 tin* death of men, the desolation of countries, the lamen- 
 tations of women and children, and so many evils in 
 the general, as every good Christian ought to mourn 
 and have pity on them, and especially ourself whom 
 this matter chiefly affects ; and that we ought to use 
 all diligence to find every means that one can, to avoid 
 the ills and distresses above mentioned, in order to 
 acquire the grace of God and the praise of mankind. 
 And as having taken all thought and advice herein, 
 it seemeth to us (considering it hath pleased God to 
 visit with infirmity our said cousin, your father) that 
 the remedy rests upon ourself and you. And to the 
 end that every one may know that we on our part 
 will not withdraw from it, we offer you to decide this 
 our quarrel, with God's grace, by combat between our 
 person and yours. 
 
 " And if it seemeth to you that you cannot accede 
 thereto, l>v reason of the great concern which you 
 supp< >se our said cousin, your father, hath in it, we 
 declare unto you that, if you are willing to listen to 
 it and to carry it into effect, we are well pleased to 
 suffer our said cousin, from reverence to God, and be- 
 cause he is a sacred personage, to have and enjoy what 
 he hath at present, for the term of his life ; whatever 
 happen between ourself and you, as it shall be ap- 
 pointed by his council, ours, and yours. Thus, if God 
 •riveth us the victory, that the crown of France, with 
 its appurtenances, as our right, shall instantly be sur- 
 rendered unto us without demur, after his decease. 
 And hereto all the lords and estates of the realm of 
 1'Yniice to bind themselves inform, as shall be accorded 
 
 between us. 
 
 'For it is belter, cousin, to determine this war 
 thus between our two persons forever, than to suffer 
 
HENRY. THE FIFTH. 307 
 
 the infidels, by occasion of our wars, to destroy Chris- 
 tianity, our holy mother Church to abide in divisions, 
 and the people of the living God to slaughter one 
 another. And we will pray heartily, as you have so 
 great a desire to avoid this, and to attain to the bless- 
 ing of peace, that you will not refuse to pursue every 
 means that can be found for attaining this peace. And 
 we hope that no means so good and short as this will 
 be found. And, to the disburthening of our soul, and 
 to the burthening of yours, if great evils ensue hence- 
 forward, we make you the aforesaid offer ; protesting 
 alway, that this our offer, which we make to the honor 
 and in the fear of God, and for the above causes, is of our 
 own mere motion, without our loyal kinsfolk, council- 
 lors, and subjects at present aroundus, having presumed, 
 in so high a matter, to advise us. Nor can it at any 
 future time be alleged to our prejudice, or to the prej- 
 udice of our right and title which we now have to 
 the crown aforesaid with its appurtenances, nor to the 
 good right and title which we now have to other our 
 lands and heritages on this side of the sea, nor to our 
 heirs and successors, if this our offer does not take full 
 effect between ourself and you in the manner aforesaid. 
 " Given under our privy seal, at our town of Har- 
 fleur, the 26th day of September, 1415. 
 
 "Hekby E." 
 
 It is needless to say that this challenge did not 
 effect its object. 
 
 A substantial victory had been achieved in the 
 capture of Harfleur ; it was for Henry to deliberate 
 whether he should follow it up with farther at- 
 tempts, or retire, satisfied for the present, to Eng- 
 land. There were many considerations which weigh- 
 
oOS HENKY THE FIFTH. 
 
 ed against an immediate resumption of aggressive 
 movements. The pestilence and the piecemeal de- 
 struction of men by the protraction of the siege 
 had wofully depleted his army. The writers do not 
 agree as to the number yet remaining; but it is 
 certain that more than one-half of the original arma- 
 ment had perished. The cattle which had been driven 
 into the camp for consumption, being killed too soon, 
 rendered the air putrid and dangerous. The days 
 were damp and hot, the nights chilly. Winter was 
 approaching ; and winter in a foreign and hostile 
 country is to an army terrible. The French govern- 
 ment was on the point of shaking off that cruel leth- 
 arthy which had given Henry his fortunate occasion. 
 Charles had summoned his great vassals to the field, 
 had caused the Oriflamme, the sacred symbol of Avar, 
 to be displayed on the tower of Notre Dame, and had 
 set out from Paris on his way to Normandy. Troops 
 were collecting everywhere, and the young Dauphin 
 at last exerted himself in good earnest. The King of 
 England called together his advisers and put to them 
 the question before him. It was unanimously coun- 
 selled that no more attempts at conquest should be 
 made till spring, and that the main army should re- 
 embark for England. Several of the more prudent 
 suggested that the ships should be taken at Harfleur, 
 and that they should return the way they came. But 
 to this Henry had great objections. It would have 
 probably been very difficult to reembark there, and 
 Henry desired to inarch through JS'ormandy, and 
 reach his English possession of Calais; from thence he 
 ilesi>j;iied to make the sea voyage. He wished to see 
 his newly acquired conquest, and to show the French 
 that no coward had come amoiur them to steal awav 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 309 
 
 their towns and then skulk "back home. ' But to march 
 to Calais was a hazardous undertaking. It was cer- 
 tainly rash to attempt it ; and shows the intrepid and 
 dashing character of Henry. An indignant, numer- 
 ous, and fresh army would inevitably he down upon 
 him "before he could reach his destination. He could 
 not hope to escape a battle, except by the operation of 
 a miracle. Yet he made up his mind promptly to run 
 the risk, and to iight desperately, and to defy the 
 power of France to drive him from the soil. That he 
 did fight desperately, will be seen in the next chapter. 
 It was very fortunate for his renown that he deter- 
 mined to proceed to Calais. 
 
 The march bea;an and continued under most ad- 
 verse circumstances. When the army started ' from 
 Harfleur (a garrison having been left behind), they 
 numbered little more than eight thousand men— a 
 poor handful to be marching arrogantly through hos- 
 tile dominions. To the distresses of cold, sickness, 
 want of shelter, and the continual annoyances on their 
 flank by small troops of the enemy, was now added 
 the distress of hunger unappeased. The inhabitants 
 took care to withdraw from Henry's line of march 
 every article of food, and left but a barren waste to 
 the foragers. Occasionally the peasants would come 
 down upon them by sudden rude sallies, and deal de- 
 structive blows among them. The inclemency of the 
 weather made the march difficult, and the ranks were 
 daily thinned by the accumulation of distresses to 
 which they Avere subjected. There was, in addition 
 to these, a constant anxiety in Henry's mind, lest the 
 powerful army of Charles should be thrown across his 
 path, and give the finishing blow to his discouraged 
 and wearied host. A more embarrassing situation a 
 
310 IIENltY TnE FIFTH. 
 
 general was never placed in. Every portent seemed 
 inauspicious. All things looked dark about him. 
 Each day his men fell from the ranks, starved, ex- 
 hausted, and eaten up by disease. Each day the dread 
 tramp of the French legions came nearer and nearer. 
 Calais seemed a castle in the air, only to be reached 
 by superhuman agency. Even the bravest of his gen- 
 erals became despondent, and cursed the enterprise. 
 On, on they marched through the dismal fields, amid 
 the execrating people, over many weary miles, with- 
 out food, or protection from storms, or clothes, or rest. 
 Yet the character of Henry of Monmouth never ap- 
 peared more sublimely than in these, the darkest days 
 of his life. He was firm, he was cheerful, he was 
 hopeful, he was prudent, he was kind, he was brave, 
 he was patient. lie shared the hardships of his men. 
 lie cheered the desponding. He went himself among 
 the sick, and saw that they had every comfort possi- 
 ble. His generals were abashed when they heard his 
 earnest voice exhorting to endurance and perseverance. 
 His soldiers forgot their sufferings when they saw 
 their beloved King exposing himself to every ill and 
 how heartily he sympathized with those who had fol- 
 lowed him so faithfully. They were ready now to 
 follow him to the death. Not a moment did he give 
 to ease. He was constantly in their midst, ever ready 
 for emergencies, ever watchful, ever devoted to his 
 giant task. He ordered the march with deliberation 
 and discipline, and gave out a constant hope of final 
 success. The course of the march from llarfleur was 
 1 1 orth ward , ] .arallel with the coast. Without material 
 disiister at the hands of the enemy Henry proceeded 
 through Fecamp, Anpies, and Criel. On the 12th of 
 October, when lie had been four days from llarfleur, 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 311 
 
 he reached the town of Eu, about ten miles south- 
 west of the river Somme. Here he was impetuous- 
 ly attacked by some French troops who had ar- 
 rived before him, but they were signally routed with- 
 out great effort. The inhabitants of the town, terri- 
 fied, supplied Henry's army with provisions, and for 
 the first time in their march they were really refresh- 
 ed. Here the news reached him that the main army 
 of the French, under Charles and the Dauphin, were 
 not far off, and that they would be able to encounter 
 him before many days. Without further delay, he 
 proceeded northward to the mouth of the river Somme. 
 Blanche Tache was the spot where Edward the Third 
 had crossed the stream just before the memorable bat- 
 tle of Crecy. Henry attempted to repeat the experi- 
 ment at the same place. But a guard had already 
 occupied the ford, and the river below had been ob- 
 structed by staves and spikes fastened in its bed. 
 Matters were becoming veiy bad. If he could not 
 cross the river, all was lost. If the French came upon 
 his rear, with the Somme in his front, the crown of 
 England, as well as that of France, would be his ran- 
 som. By rapid and regular marches he kept the left 
 bank of the river, and turned his army directly south- 
 westward. As he came to the villages on the route, 
 he gathered what provision was to be found, and, that 
 the enemy might have no advantage, burned the ham- 
 lets as he retired. Everywhere the bridges had been 
 destroyed, and the shoals were guarded by large forces. 
 His scouts became more and more watchful as the sus- 
 pense heightened, that due notice should be had of 
 Charles's approach. At the bridge of St. Maxence he 
 found thirty thousand men prepared to dispute his 
 passage. With rare courage he resolved not to avoid 
 
.'312 
 
 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 them, and ordered a prompt preparation to receive 
 battle. His little army showed a bold front, and the 
 French, confident that a safer opportunity for his de- 
 struction was at hand, declined to accept the menace. 
 Finding that he was not to be attacked, Henry re- 
 sumed his march, and the next day reached Amiens ; 
 thence he proceeded to Boves, where he again drew up 
 for battle, this time also in vain. Two days after 
 found him at Corbie, near the bend of the river. Here 
 some French troops, assisted by the doubtful coopera- 
 tion of a multitude of peasants, attacked the English. 
 They were received with a steady front ; the English 
 did not flinch a step. "With apparent ease they con- 
 strained the French to retire in disorder, and to a dis- 
 tance safe for both adversaries. The soldiers showed 
 a disposition to sack the town, but Henry promptly 
 cpielled the spirit, and maintained rigorously the dis- 
 cipline of his ranks. The exertions of the King be- 
 came more and more earnest as the crisis approached. 
 From Corbie he proceeded rapidly southward, and 
 on the 18th reached Nesle, about six miles south of 
 the river. Here the army was quartered in and about 
 the neighboring farm houses. Henry summoned the 
 inhabitants to redeem their property by bringing in 
 provisions ; but this they sullenly refused to do, and 
 their houses were therefore ordered to be burned. 
 The order was, however, revoked on the morning of 
 the 10th, when the King received from his scouts the 
 joyful intelligence that a ford had at last been discov- 
 ered, where it was possible for the army to pass the 
 river. The French had proceeded steadily up the 
 rigid, bank, opposite to Henry's course, with the inten- 
 tion of fatiguing him. A detachment sent to his 
 ..■issistimee by the governor of Calais, who had learned 
 
HENRY THE FIETH. 313 
 
 his straits, was captured by this manoeuvre. The 
 efforts of the enemy, however, were vainly matched 
 against the vigilance and daring of the warrior-king. 
 An advanced guard was despatched to Voyenne, the 
 place indicated by the scouts, to make soundings and 
 reconnoitre, that the safety of the project might be 
 determined. The main army at once followed in their 
 path. A marsh ran parallel with the river at a little 
 distance beyond Nesle, which made it dangerous for 
 Henry to enter the plain between ; for had the French 
 known his movements, they could have driven him 
 into an angle formed by the river and the swamp, and 
 his defeat and capture would have been certain. This 
 danger was avoided, through the culpable want of vigi- 
 lance in the enemy, and the English reached the borders 
 of the Somme in safety. Henry found two fordable 
 places. After sending across a body of lancers to cover 
 the passage of the forces, he ordered the irregularities 
 of the bed to be filled up with beams and other rubbish, 
 so that three abreast might pass over with ease. The 
 baggage passed over one of the fords, and the soldiers 
 over the other. The King himself stood at one end 
 of the latter ford, and personally attended to the order 
 and method of the passage ; while at the other end 
 the same task was performed by Clarence. When a 
 part had crossed, they tore up buildings, and used the 
 fragments to construct a bridge, on which the remain- 
 der went over. In the midst of the passage, a body 
 of French cavalry came within a short distance. The 
 English lines formed rapidly, and before any damage 
 could be done, were ready to resist an attack. The 
 enemy were evidently taken aback at the discipline 
 and fearlessness which marked the action of the Eng- 
 lish, and retired without a demonstration. It took 
 
314 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 the whole army about six hours to ford the Somme. 
 One groat anxiety was now relieved, for the greatest 
 obstacle to reaching Calais had seemed to be the river. 
 The troops felt in good spirits, and Henry took good 
 care to cheer them with encouraging words. But 
 there was yet a serious danger to be apprehended 
 from the advancing forces of the French King. They 
 were almost as near Calais as were the English, and 
 possessed many facilities for rapid progress which the 
 pursued army did not. 
 
 On Sunday, October 20th, Henry resumed his 
 march, proceeding directly northward on the left bank 
 of the river, and the same day reached Athies. Before 
 he left this point, three heralds, sent by the Dukes of 
 Bourbon and Orleans, sought audience with the King. 
 When they were conducted into his presence by the 
 Duke of York, and he had given them leave to speak, 
 they announced themselves to have come from the 
 French headquarters ; declared in the name of the 
 French King, that, as Henry's design was known to 
 be to subjugate the kingdom, it had been determined 
 to give him battle, in punishment of his presumption, 
 and as a vengeance upon his injuries. Henry, with 
 his habitual calmness and dignity, replied : " All will 
 be done according to the will of God." One of the 
 heralds then asked him " by what route lie proposed 
 to go." The King said promptly, " I shall go straight 
 to Calais ; and if my enemies attempt to prevent me 
 it will be- at their peril. I shall not sock them. But 
 the fear of them will not induce me to deviate from 
 my route, nor will the sight of them quicken my paca 
 I do therefore advise your army not to interrupt my 
 march, or to seek the spilling of Christian blood."' 
 With I his Mm French heralds were dismissed, with 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 315 
 
 the customary presents, to their own headquarters. 
 No sooner had they gone, than Henry gave orders 
 that immediate preparations for "battle should be made. 
 He commanded that the whole army should assume 
 their tabards, and. should be formed in battle array. 
 The King himself went out and addressed them with 
 an eloquence and tenderness which those who were 
 present declare to have been wonderful. He impressed 
 them with the solemnity of the hour, proposed himself 
 to lead them into the conflict, and exhorted them to 
 sustain their valor of his sake and for England's. His 
 surprise and relief was great, when on going from his 
 tent the next morning no enemy appeared in view. 
 He continued northward in the direction of Calais at 
 a prompt but not hasty pace, and seemed confident 
 of his ability to reach his destination with as little 
 molestation as if no French army was nearer than 
 Paris. He was subject, all along the route, to annoy- 
 ance from hostile cavalry prowling about his flank and 
 rear, but they never dared to risk an action. 
 
 He proceeded without disaster to Albert, Force- 
 ville, and Bonniere. On the 23d of October, he 
 reached the lower bank of 'the river Canche at 
 Frevent, which he crossed with ease, it being a 
 small stream. Yet even the delay of crossing so insig- 
 nificant a ford was more than dangerous. Not a mo- 
 ment was to be lost. Every hour added to the prob- 
 ability of a terrific crisis. From Frevent he marched 
 in one day to Blangi, on the river Ternoise, " the river 
 of Swords." Rumors now thickened and became con- 
 firmed into facts, that the enemy was near at hand. 
 Scouts came in hourly with accounts of thousands 
 seen at different points. The river Ternoise was said 
 to be guarded by an immense force. There was doubt 
 
310 IIENKY THE FIFTH. 
 
 whether the English would he able to pass the bridge. 
 Houry sent out an advanced guard, who reported, to 
 his joy, that it was possible; to cross. The army passed 
 over with rapidity, and yet in admirable order. They 
 ascended a hill on the right bank, drawn up for a 
 battle at any moment. A scout rushed up, breathless, 
 to the Duke of York, and announced that the enemy 
 in great numbers were rapidly approaching. 
 
 It is necessary to return briefly to the French camp, 
 and see how they reached the field of the memorable 
 action which it is our province to narrate in the next 
 chapter. It has been seen that the listlessness of the 
 French court had at last been thrown aside, and its 
 wretched divisions for a time healed, when the inva- 
 sion of Henry had startled them into a fear for the 
 safety of the throne. It had been too late to save 
 Ilarfleur; it had been too late to prevent the invader 
 from setting his heel upon a large tract of Charles's 
 dominions; it would soon be too late to hold the 
 French crown. The feeble mind of the King seems 
 to have been aroused at last, and the Dauphin, with 
 all the fire of youth, urged prompt and vigorous meas- 
 ures. Orleans and Burgundy were summoned to for- 
 get their mutual hatred, and to join their hostile amis 
 in a cause dear to eveiy vassal of France : and they 
 obeyed with admirable alacrity so touching an appeal. 
 Both sent their forces to the royal standard ; Orleans 
 commanding his men in person, and Burgundy prom- 
 ising soon to follow. But John the Fearless was too 
 cunning to heep his promise, lie reserved himself 
 tor events. On the 12th of October, King Charles, 
 whom (lie excitement of the occasion had restored to 
 temporary soundness, reached his faithful city of 
 Koiien, whither (lie Dauphin with his command had 
 
HE WHY THE FIFTH. 317 
 
 already arrived. There, too, lie found Marshal Bouci- 
 cault (who had been operating without success in Nor- 
 mandy), the Admiral, the Count de Vendome, and a 
 large number of the nobility and generals. Eecruit- 
 ing meantime was going steadily forward. "When the 
 principal advisers and warriors of the King had gather- 
 ed together at Rouen, a council of war was held. This 
 was on the 20th of October. There were present the 
 Duke of Anjou, titular King of Sicily, the Dukes of 
 Brittany and Berri, the Count of Ponthieu, Charles's 
 youngest son, and the Chancellors of France and of 
 Aquitaine. Happily there was harmony of action in 
 the council. By a vote of thirty to five, it was re- 
 solved that the English should be forced to a battle 
 without delay. The Constable instantly set to work 
 to collect the greatest possible force. Every man, 
 noble or common, was inspired by one spirit, when 
 summoned to repel the invaders of France. The 
 call for men met an immediate and enthusiastic re- 
 sponse. Troops came flocking in with astonishing 
 rapidity, and in no long time the French army was 
 more than competent to do its work. A part of the 
 forces had already gone to harass the English, and 
 had marched to Corbie, Peronne, and beyond the 
 Somme in Henry's wake. The remainder made all 
 haste to join them, going as each legion organized. 
 The Dauphin, ardent and impatient, resolved to take 
 a command himself; and ifc was only by the most ear- 
 nest appeals from Anjou and Berri, that he was in- 
 duced to forego the design. The Count of Charolois, 
 Burgundy's heir, was so fixed in his determination to 
 go, that it was necessary to restrain his impetuosity 
 by force, and he was fain to find relief from his disap- 
 pointment in a flood of tears. The French army, as 
 
318 IIENEY THE FIFTH. 
 
 we have ween, having reached the Somme en masse, 
 were extended in their linen far enough to worry Henry 
 along its bunks, but refrained from battle until they 
 could unite somewhere and make the conflict a deci- 
 sive one. 
 
 The two armies, at the time we have reached, were 
 at last in a position to give and receive battle. It is 
 to be observed that Henry had occupied, in the march 
 from Harfleur to Maisoncelles, where he was posted, 
 about sixteen days ; that every hardship incident to 
 war in a hostile country and in an unhealthy climate 
 had been visited upon him ; that, beneath the pressure 
 of so many distresses, his army had dwindled with 
 appalling swiftness ; that, notwithstanding, the courage 
 of the heroic monarch had never once waned, but 
 that his fine temper and sunny diposition had tri- 
 uniphed over every ill ; that the army had caught his 
 lofty spirit of endurance and hopefulness, and were 
 sustained by their devotion to him, and their stubborn 
 resistance to discouragement ; and that, united by har- 
 monious counsels, reliant upon the fidelity of his sol- 
 diers, vigilant to make every preparation, constant in 
 religious devotion, and undismayed by the proud front 
 of his adversary, Henry awaited with serenity and 
 confidence the dread encounter which coidd no longer 
 be postponed. 
 
si 
 
 
 
 2Ut 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ft 
 
 
 W F- s ^ 
 a - a ? 
 
 ff 
 
 
 F 
 
 a 
 
 c 
 
 — - 
 
 z t 
 < : 
 
 8 i 
 
 55 •• 
 
 — a 
 r c 
 
 -!ai i." 3 
 
CHAPTEE VHI. 
 
 " This day is called the feast of Crispian, 
 He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, 
 Will stand a tip-toe' when the day is named. 
 And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 11 
 
 THE BATTLE OF AGHNCOUTJT. 
 
 It is a remarkable fact that the most memorable 
 victories of the English, over the French, have been 
 gained by turning at bay upon a closely pursuing 
 army. It has been when no resource was left but to 
 face the enemy with an inferior force, that the choicest 
 laurels have rewarded English valor. So Edward the 
 Third, making all haste to retire, received the impet- 
 uous onset of Philip of Valois, and won Crecy ; so 
 Henry the Fifth rushed headlong upon the legions of 
 the Constable D'Albret, and achieved that great tri- 
 umph which is about to be recorded ; so, in a manner, 
 Wellington planted himself against Napoleon in his 
 exultant march at Waterloo. No situation could call 
 for a greater effort of military genius. The com- 
 mander who, at last, is brought to bay, has but one 
 advantage — the advantage of desperation. With an 
 inferior force, with despondency in his ranks, on an 
 unfamiliar soil, amid a hostile people, in presence of a 
 larger and confident army, having no choice of ground, 
 in want of provisions, arms, and clothing, where de- 
 
"i!0 IIENItY THE FIFTH. 
 
 lay was dangerous, and attack almost destruction, we 
 cannot imagine a more favorable occasion on which to 
 exhibit, if it exists, the rare powers of a truly great 
 general. We have followed Henry the Fifth on that 
 dreary and desperate march which he made from 
 Harfleur toward Calais. We have seen him oppressed 
 by every distress to which an army can be exposed — 
 to famine, to disease, to hostile menace and pursuit, to 
 fatigue, to cold, to despondency, to daily loss of men, 
 to the obstructions of nature, to constant danger of 
 surprise and consequent ruin. We at last find him 
 safely over the Ternoise. Here he confronts his enemy. 
 This is to be the last and greatest trial. There is no 
 avoiding the crisis. There is no middle fate between 
 entire success and entire destruction. The adversary 
 has girded up his loins with his strongest buckler ; he 
 has been roused to his highest pitch of indignation ; 
 he has waited and repressed his spirit of vengeance, 
 until vengeance now seems certain, until the end of 
 the flying invader seems at hand. All the hate of 
 France because of hereditary grudges, because of fields 
 devastated, towns sacked, posts occupied, royalty in- 
 sulted, internal faction taken advantage of, arrogant 
 boasts, and, so far, the steady success of the invader, 
 all the hate of France for these things is centred in 
 that dread host, which " fills the field as with an in- 
 numerable host of locusts," and which puts a human 
 wall between the retreating army and their haven of 
 safety. At the head of this angry mass stand the 
 stalwart nobility of France; vassals who have defied 
 their king; warriors, whom the shock of a hundred 
 buttles has not moved. Their armor glistens fresh 
 from the artificer's hand; their lances are keen of 
 ed'^e; their trims arc newly bored ; their shields are 
 
IIENEY THE FIFTH. 321 
 
 yet unscarredby the hostile onset. Their camps abound 
 in food and warm clothing. They have the cause of 
 their country ; vengeance is theirs to visit upon the 
 aggressor. They are confident in their cause, and in 
 their strength. 
 
 Henry had scarcely seen the last of his battalions 
 across the river, when a scout, who had reconnoitred 
 beyond the lines, came breathless to the Duke of York, 
 and announced that the enemy were in view, in full 
 force, at a short distance off. York at once gave the 
 intelligence to the King. Henry promptly rode for- 
 ward to a hillock, and found that the report was in- 
 deed true. There they were, swarming over the hills 
 and plains, their banners flying, their trumpets sound- 
 ing, and their artillery rumbling over the yielding 
 ground. With an unruffled countenance the King 
 returned to his main body, deliberately ordered his 
 soldiers to be in readiness for battle, and addressed 
 them so calmly and cheerfully that confidence took 
 possession of every breast. The army with one accord 
 leapt from their horses, and, prostrating themselves 
 upon the ground, appealed to the Almighty that he 
 would protect and save them. The priests went about, 
 exhorting them to prayer, and urging them to put 
 themselves with confidence into the hands of God. It 
 was now dusk, on the evening of the 24th of October. 
 The French, having reached some orchards below the 
 village of Agincourt, were evidently not disposed to 
 risk a fight so late. The English, therefore, had the 
 night in which to prepare themselves for the crisis. 
 Sir "Walter Hungerford, in presence of Henry, wished 
 that he had brought with him but ten thousand more 
 archers ; but the King, turning suddenly upon him, 
 said : " Now, in the Lord's name, I would not have one 
 21 
 
'•'<~2 HENRY TnE FIFTH. 
 
 until more. The number we have is that which He 
 has willed; these folks place their confidence in their 
 multitude, and I in Ilim who so often gave victory to 
 Judas Maccabaeus." No word fell from the hero's lips 
 but those of cheerfulness and confidence. He led his 
 little army to a small elevation near Maisoncelles, 
 between which and the French position there was a 
 valley ; having first dismissed what prisoners he had, 
 with the parole promise that they should report them- 
 selves at Calais. 
 
 As night advanced, the soldiers set lustily about 
 their preparations for the morrow. The rain began 
 to fall, and the ground throughout the country was 
 soon soaked and slippery. The banners were furled 
 and covered. The archers put fresh strings to their 
 bows, the swords and lances were carefully burnished, 
 the armor was supplied with new rivets, the embla- 
 zoned frocks were carefully put in dry places, straw 
 was laid about upon which to rest, the baggage was 
 piled up in the rear, and stakes were prepared to op- 
 pose the onset of the hostile cavalry. As for Henry 
 himself, he took up his quarters in a small hut at 
 Maisoncelles ; but he did not think of rest until every 
 thins: was in readiness. The work done that night 
 was done with a will. No noise issued from that sol- 
 emn camp. Every thing was said in whispers, every 
 thing was done quickly and quietly. "When all the 
 preparations had been made, the soldiers devoted 
 themselves to confession and prayer. The priests were 
 everywhere active in their sacred olliees, granting ab- 
 solutions, cheering the sinking hearts, leading in the 
 supplications to the Divinity. Meanwhile the cold 
 storm raged, and wet through and through the de- 
 voted troops. The young King appeared in all parts 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 323 
 
 of his camp, and the sight of his intrepid face and 
 cheerful step inspired his men with courage and hope. 
 His commands were prompt and peremptory ; there 
 must "be no noise and no delay. Thus passed the 
 memorable night before Agincourt, in the English 
 camp. The French employed themselves far differ- 
 ently. They were only about a mile distant, and their 
 shouts and movements could be distinctly heard. 
 Blazing fires were kindled to keep off the chill of the 
 rain, which also lit up their camp to the view of their 
 adversaries. There was a constant rushing to and 
 fro, voices loud in anger and command, trumpets blast- 
 ing, groups of men drinking and gambling, officers 
 quarrelling, wine flowing freely, laughter and song, and 
 boasting and yelling, through the long night. There 
 was no order in the ranks ; the generals, confident of 
 their triumph, were careless in the preservation of 
 discipline, and longed for the morrow, that their prow- 
 ess might deal the fatal blow. The noblemen played 
 at dice for the prisoners which they exj>ected to take. 
 The universal idea in the French camp was, that vic- 
 tory was sure, and that they could afford to avoid the 
 tedious preparation for a doubtful conflict. 
 
 During the night the Constable D'Albret arrived 
 at headquarters, and sought to restore order ; but so vio- 
 lent were the jealousies of his generals, some of whom 
 were princes of the blood royal, that his attempts were 
 attended with but poor success. 
 
 About midnight Henry sent a small force to re- 
 connoitre the ground between the armies, that, he 
 might know where to place his own. ! Not long after, 
 the Count de Eichemont, by order, of Orleans, ap- 
 proached the English camp at the head of two thou- 
 sand men, with the supposed design of surprising 
 
o-l IIKNIIY THE FIFTH. 
 
 them. Homy at once put his troops in order of bat- 
 tle, and after a short skirmish Richemont retired tc 
 the French lines. 
 
 The two forces which confronted one another on 
 the field of Agincourt are very differently estimated by 
 the English and French contemporary writers. Sir 
 William Bardolph states that the French had over one 
 hundred and fifty thousand, whilst Otterbourne makes 
 the number sixty thousand. Of the French chroniclers, 
 Monstrelet says with Bardolph ; St. Remy puts the 
 number at only fifty thousand. The best judgment 
 that can now be given in the presence of testimony so 
 conflicting, is, that there were at least sixty thousand, 
 prol i ably more. The French army was divided into 
 a van guard, a main bod)', a rear guard, and two 
 wings. The van guard was commanded by the Con- 
 stable of France, D'Albret, who was also General-in- 
 Chief. It was composed entirely of infantry, divided 
 into eight thousand bacinets, knights, and enquires, 
 four thousand archers, and fifteen hundred crossbow- 
 men. The latter corps was arranged in the rear of the 
 nien-at-arms, and embraced the flower of the French 
 chivalry. The Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, pinces 
 of the blood, the Counts D'Eu and Richemont, Marshal 
 Boucicault, commanding the bows, Dampierre, Admi- 
 ral of France, and other nobles of renown held their 
 commands in the van guard. The main body, imme- 
 diately at the rear of the van guard, was commanded 
 by the Duke de Bar, and under him the Counts of 
 Never*, Vaudemont, Blainont, Salines, (irandpre, and 
 Koussi. There were about the same number of infan- 
 try in this body as in the van. The rear guard, con- 
 sisting likewise of infantry, Ave re led by the Count de 
 Marie, having as his lieutenants the Counts of Damp- 
 
BANNERS BORNE AT THE BATTLE OF AGINCOURT. 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 320 
 
 martin, Fauquembergh, and the Baron de Lonroy. The 
 number of this grand division is not definitely stated. 
 
 The Count de Vendome commanded the right 
 wing, which was composed of sixteen hundred men- 
 at-arms, and was designed to turn the English flank. 
 Sir Clignet de Brabant and Louis Due de Bourbon 
 divided the command of the left wing, which was sup- 
 plied by picked men-at-arms, mounted for cavaby 
 service. 
 
 The English army, according to the most trust- 
 worthy writers, could not have amounted to much 
 more than six thousand fighting men. The archers, 
 under Sir Thomas Erpingham, steward of the royal 
 household, were stationed at the immediate front, 
 facing the van guard of the enemy. The main body, 
 'composed of men-at-arms, King Henry himself j>ro- 
 posed to lead. The proper van guard it was neces- 
 sary to use as a wing, on account of the smallness of 
 numbers, and so was posted on the right, a little back 
 of the archers. This division was intrusted, by his 
 "request, to the Duke of York The rear guard, under 
 * Lord Camoys, likewise served as a wing, on the left. 
 Among the lieutenants were the Duke of Gloucester, 
 younger brother of the King ; the Earl Marshal of 
 England, John, Earl of Nottingham; the Earls -of 
 Oxford, March, Salisbury, Huntingdon, and Suffolk; 
 Lords Fitzhugh, Talbot of Fumival, Bos, Clifford, 
 Scroop of Bolton, Maltravers, Harrington, and Ferrers 
 of Chartley, and scions of the illustrious houses of 
 Courtenay, Shirley, Talbot, Hastings, Grey, Ashton, 
 Berkeley, Percy, De La Pole, Stanley, and Legh. Sel- 
 dom has an expedition boasted so distinguished a roll 
 of names. It may be said truly that the flower of 
 both nations were collected upon that memorable field. 
 
!>-(» HENRY TnE FIFTH. 
 
 The archers, under Eqnnghain, were drawa tip in the 
 front centre in the shape of a wedge, with its edge 
 toward the enemy. They wore but slight armor, hav- 
 ing loose jackets and hose, that their use of the bow 
 might not be constrained. From their girdles hung 
 hatchets and swords. " Many," says Nicholas, " were 
 barefooted and without hats, whilst others had caps of 
 thick leather crossed with iron." The baggage and fee- 
 ble-bodied were placed in the rear of the rear guard ; a 
 small guard was left to protect them, and here, too, were 
 stationed the priests, who continually offered prayers 
 for the safety of the army. The English were so drawn 
 up that their flanks were well covered by hedges and 
 brushwood, which made it impossible that they should 
 be surrounded, unless they could be divided in the cen- 
 tre. Toward the French army the field widened, and a 
 similar protection was not afforded them. The standards 
 borne by the opposing forces were conspicuous in the 
 array. The English carried the banner of St. George, 
 having a red St. George's cross upon a white field : 
 the banner of St. Edward, with a yellow cross upon 
 an azure field, having four martlets between the limbs, 
 and one beneath ; the banner of the Trinity, " an orle 
 and pall argent, inscribed with the Trinity and Unity :" 
 the banner of St. Edmund, with three crowns upon 
 an azure field ; and the royal banner of King Heniy 
 the Fifth, with the arms of France, three four-sik-lis, 
 on an azure field, and the arms of England, three lions 
 rampant on a crimson field, emblazoned quarterly. 
 The French had but two standards, the Oriflamme, or 
 battle Hag, a long red banner with flying ends; and 
 the royal banner of France, throe j!<H/v-(h-Ii* of gold, 
 upon an azure field. Beside these were the countless 
 standards of tlie various nobles, with their heraldic 
 
HEBTKY THE FIFTH. 327 
 
 arms emblazoned in every color, and with every illus- 
 tration which it is possible to conjecture. 
 
 The King of England rose from a brief sleep, at 
 daybreak, on the morning of the 25th, and heard three 
 masses. He then put on his splendid cote d'armes, 
 illuminated in gold and jewels with the symbols of 
 English royalty. He wore upon his head an imperial 
 crown, mounted upon a helmet, the rare magnificence 
 of which attracted the attention of all who saw him 
 and have handed down the account of the day. It 
 glittered with precious gems, and its exquisite and in- 
 tricate workmanship made it the wonder of every eye. 
 His body was encased in a noble suit of armor, gold 
 mounted and jewelled. His long sword swung by his 
 side, and his shield, as elaborate as the rest of his 
 accoutrement, was lifted upon his arm. Pie mounted 
 a small, but spirited gray horse, and with his imme- 
 diate suite passed rapidly through the camp, giving 
 his orders in person. The troops were ordered to take 
 their posts in battle array, upon a plain covered with 
 young corn. This, it will be seen, was a great advan- 
 tage, as the maze, trodden down by the multitude, 
 kept them from the impediment of the mud, which 
 had become thick during the rain of the previous night. 
 On the other hand, the French had not so convenient 
 a carpet, but were forced to manoeuvre amid the an- 
 noyances of soft and slippery ground. When the dif- 
 ferent divisions had taken their position, Sir Thomas 
 Erpingham with his archers at the centre, the Duke 
 of York at the right, Lord Camoys at the left, and the 
 main body at the back, the King rode along the lines 
 in his glistening apparel, and cheered his soldiers for 
 the last time. Then a long, but spirited address from 
 Henry to his army was read at the head of the divi- 
 
• >-0 HENRY THE FIFTII. 
 
 sions. It is a document of so much interest, that we 
 cannot refrain from placing it before the reader. 
 
 " So it is, my valiant Englishmen ! We must 
 either conquer or die, for victory or death is all the 
 present prospect ! But death is the least you are to 
 suffer, if you be not victorious. No ; you are to expect 
 lingering tortures, and the most vile, inhuman usage, 
 from a barbarous enemy, who are so cruel that your 
 lives cannot satiate their rage ; but they have threat- 
 ened to cut off the thumbs of every one of you, archers, 
 that you may forever be disabled to draw a bow against 
 them. We must, therefore, fight with a resolution 
 undaunted and invincible. And why should we fear 
 death, or be doubtful of victory, since God, who guards 
 our lives, has given us courage to defend them, and 
 will strengthen us to conquer ? 
 
 " To Him I appeal — the Avenger of injustice ! He 
 knows what fair conditions of peace I have so often 
 proposed, to prevent that effusion of blood which in a 
 few hours will moisten this field of battle ; and He 
 knows with what haughty pride they have been re- 
 jected. He disdains the intolerable arrogance of our 
 enemies, their presumption in the strength and num- 
 ber of their army, their horrid desires of revenge, which 
 nothing will satisfy, but to see all this plain covered 
 with our dead bodies; and He has determined to 
 make use of our arms to confound them. He knows 
 how the French violated the treaty made in Brittany, 
 and usurped the dominions which belonged to the 
 English Kings in France; and that wo have made 
 war, not for the proud glory of conquest, or to gratify 
 ambition, hut to recover the possessions of our ances- 
 tors, and our own just rights. 
 
 "Therefore, (hough 1 have great confidence in your 
 
HEBTRY THE FIFTH. 329 
 
 valor, yet that is the least part of my hopes — 'tis the 
 assistance of the Almighty which gives me the firmest 
 assurance of victory. And that the same religious 
 confidence may be excited in your souls, know that, 
 by a remarkable working of Divine Providence, our 
 enemies offer us battle on the day which has been ap- 
 pointed in England for the people to implore a bless- 
 ing on our arms. Know that, while you are fighting, 
 your fathers, your wives, and your children, with lifted 
 eyes and hands, and bended knees, are supplicating 
 the favor of Heaven for your safety and success. If 
 I thought it necessary to raise your courage by exam- 
 ples, I might remind you of the victories of Poictiers 
 and Crecy. They are not only your ancient enemies 
 with whom you are to fight, but they are of the same 
 nation whom your fathers have so often conquered. 
 Nor be ye disheartened to see their battalions over- 
 spread all this field. A multitude there is, indeed — 
 but few soldiers ; they are a people gathered up in 
 haste ; and, excepting the men-at-arms, the rest are a 
 confused crowd rather than an army. And though 
 they are vastly superior to us in numbers, we shall let 
 them see that we more exceed them in valor, the most 
 important advantage in a battle. They are stronger 
 in horses ; but the riders are cowards, and want both 
 the bravery and discipline of soldiers. You see I 
 have chosen such ground that you cannot be sur- 
 rounded by their numbers, nor overpowered by their 
 cavalry. Proceed we, then, my brave countrymen, 
 with confidence in God, and with all hopes that valiant 
 men, resolved to conquer or die, may have in their 
 arms. Let us charge them, in a firm persuasion of 
 victory — victory ! since all things presage such favor- 
 able success. If you are defeated, having no towns 
 
o''D HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 nor cities, nor so much as a fortified camp to secure a 
 retreat, and being exposed to all the rage of a pro- 
 voked enemy, not one of you must think to return 
 alive into England. But, if we are victorious, as by 
 a noble fury sparkling in your eyes I know we shall, 
 you will not only enrich yourselves with the spoils 
 of their camp, where the wealth of so many nations is 
 gathered to be a reward of the victor, but a kingdom 
 to which I have an undoubted right, will be conquer- 
 ed ; and England, for future ages, shall give laws to 
 France."* This address was received by the whole 
 army with the wildest enthusiasm ; and they became 
 impatient to be led on against the enemy. "Sire," 
 they cried, as he passed along the lines, "Sire, we 
 pray God to give you a good life, and victory over 
 your enemies." An attack was not immediately made. 
 The English did not wish to abandon their fine posi- 
 tion on the com. The French could with difficulty 
 move over the mud. It was resolved, probably on 
 the part of the French, to make a show of negotiation. 
 Henry was informed that if he would relinquish his 
 claim on the crown of France, and give up Harfleur, 
 he should retain Guienne and his ancient fiefs in Picar- 
 dy.f Those who made this proposal, knew well that 
 they were safe in doing so. They did not mistake 
 Henry's character. His reply was little less prompt 
 and bold than that he had made when safe in Eng- 
 land. "I will yield up my title on condition that 
 1 lie K ing ( >f France will give me (he Duchy of Guienne, 
 and the live towns which appertain thereto, the County 
 of Poiithicu, and the Princess Katharine with a dowry 
 of right, hundred thousand crowns ! " This was said 
 
 * llnlllwcll'H U'tli'i-a of 1 1 10 Kings of England, 
 f St. liciuv. 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 331 
 
 in the presence of a confronting force of over fifty 
 thousand, in the heart of a hostile country, and after 
 a most disastrous march of eight days ! The intrepid 
 spirit of Henry was never so clearly proved. If his 
 present situation could not make him shrink, certainly 
 nothing could. Several other attempts at negotiation 
 failed, and both parties at last came to the conclusion 
 that nothing was left for them but to fight with des- 
 peration. 
 
 The King took his place in front of the main body 
 on foot, with his royal banner held before him. To 
 Sir Thomas Erpingham, Knight of the Garter, a ven- 
 erable and distinguished soldier, was awarded the 
 honor of leading the onset. The archers under his 
 command were at the front. When Henry gave the 
 word, the old soldier went rapidly up and down the 
 battalion, and with a few hasty words told his faith- 
 ful men that the time was come. Then throwing his 
 truncheon high in air, he shouted in a stentorian voice, 
 " Now strike ! " and, leaping from his horse, he took 
 his place near the King. The shout of the veteran 
 was echoed by six thousand ringing voices, and the 
 French quaked in their shoes at the dread sound. 
 What was Henry's surprise when he found that the 
 enemy did not move a step ! The French were fairly 
 transfixed by the mud. Those who sat upon horses, 
 heavy with armor, were unable to stir. The struggle 
 to wrench themselves from the cohesive soil was vain. 
 " The place," says an old writer,* " was soft and cut up 
 by the horses, so that it was with great difficulty they 
 could drag their feet out of the ground. The French 
 were so loaded with harness that they could not ad- 
 vance. They had long and very weighty coats of 
 
 * Lefebvre. 
 
332 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 mail, hanging below the knees ; below these they had 
 leg harness, and above them plate harness, and more- 
 over, helmets of proof. They were so much crowded 
 together, that they could not lift their arms to strike 
 an enemy, except some of them in the front." As it 
 was approaching midday, Henry was impatient to 
 fight while it was yet light. Not knowing the cause 
 of the embarrassment to the French, he conjectured 
 that they were waiting for more troops, or else that 
 they designed to starve him into submission, by cut- 
 ting off his escape. He quickly came to a decision. 
 He would attack them without delay. He gave the 
 order, " Banners advance ! " The whole army, for an 
 instant, fell flat upon the ground, uttered a word of 
 prayer, and put a small piece of earth in their mouths, 
 in token that they were but as dust in the sight of 
 God. Rising, then, simultaneously to their feet, they 
 advanced boldly and coolly in three lines toward the 
 enemy, shouting lustily, their trumpets sounding, and 
 the earth shaking with the quick and single tramp 
 of thousands. The King's voice was heard cheering 
 on his men, and his glittering sword flashed here and 
 there as he in person directed the onset. 
 
 D'Albret no sooner saw the approaching column, 
 than he exhorted his van for the last time to remem- 
 ber the insults to France, and crying '• Montjoye ! '' 
 commanded them forward to meet the attack. "What 
 a contrast those two armies must have presented! 
 The. French, in three great bodies, splendidly pano- 
 plied, thoroughly accoutred, armors rich in gold, 
 gems, and enamel, banners of every color, horses ar- 
 rayed with profuse adornment, heavy rolling artillery, 
 men well fed and well shod, and eoniident, even ar- 
 rogant—a noble spectacle, replete in all that could 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 333 
 
 make " the pomp and circumstance of war ! " The 
 English, on the other hand, ragged, half-stripped, half- 
 famished, half-shoeless, having rude leather helmets, 
 often only twisted willow npon their heads, their small 
 arms worn anywhere, without regard to system, un- 
 washed, wearied with desperate marching, their poor 
 garments damp with the last night's soaking, their 
 countenances solemn, but firm set, their souls intrepid 
 and devout, their brave purpose marked by step, and 
 face, and shout. Just as they got within reach of the 
 enemy, a thick volley of 'arrows poured upon the lines 
 of D'Albret. Cavalry and infantry fell before the 
 showering missiles. The cavalry on each side essayed 
 in vain to press upon the dauntless archers ; again and 
 again they retired with ranks thinned, and courage 
 dampened. The French troops were so closely wedged 
 together that there was neither ease of movement nor 
 space to advance or fall back. The mud held the mass 
 with distressing pertinacity; the guns Avould not 
 move, the cavalry floundered about in inexplicable 
 confusion. The bold Clignet de Brabant, Admiral of 
 France, led on the mounted battalions repeatedly; 
 each time they fell back with precipitation upon the 
 men-at-arms, their horses maddened by the fire and 
 the soft soil, and their men reeling from the saddle to 
 be crushed to death beneath the pell-mell retreat of 
 the disordered mass. Meanwhile the arrows came 
 down thick and fast in all directions. Clignet made 
 a desperate attempt to break the line of the archers ; 
 he advanced with eight hundred, he fell back with 
 one hundred and fifty. The brushwood on Henry's 
 flanks were natural barriers far more impenetrable 
 than ranks of men. The Constable found too late 
 that his numbers were an impediment rather than a 
 
-'l-'U HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 service, and that to surround Henry at his flanks was 
 absolutely impossible. The English were steady, im- 
 movable. The French were crowded, confused, trod- 
 den down by their own horses, and off their guard. 
 Sir William de Saveuse, with his battalion of cavalry, 
 strove once more to break through the archers ; whilst 
 two squadrons sought on either side to reach the 
 English rear. The archers planted their stakes before 
 them ; Saveuse was forced in a moment to retire, and 
 fell, mortally wounded, as he turned. His gallant 
 troop met with a terrible fate, their horses reared 
 under the galling wounds, threw their riders and 
 crushed them beneath their hoofs, and rushed head- 
 long upon the van guard. The van guard, thrown 
 out of position, fell back. The King of England was 
 quick to see his advantage. Exposing his body with 
 conspicuous valor, he in person led his men rapidly 
 upon the French line, which, impeded by mud, a blaz- 
 ing sun in their eyes, disorder, plunging steeds, and 
 confused commands, was striving to reform in battle 
 array. For a moment, D'Albret rallied his division, 
 divided into three battalions, and impetuously charged 
 upon the advancing English. The straggle was quick, 
 bitter, terrible ; the English yielded for an instant to 
 the overwhelming zeal of their adversaries. But they 
 soon rallied. Issuing forth, -with King Henry at their 
 head, from behind their barricade of stakes, and cast- 
 ing away their bows and quivers, they rushed on, a 
 compact and well-ordered line with then- axes, pon- 
 derous swords, bills, lances, and leaded clubs. The 
 royal general was at the head of the front rank, and 
 cheered his men by repeated shouts. They soon 
 reached the dense and deplorable- confusion of men 
 and beasts which now, alas! composed the van of the 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 335 
 
 French army. Then began a fearful conflict, the Eng- 
 lish dealing here and there blows each of which felled 
 a man, and the French, mingled in disorder, striving 
 to beat back their impetuous assailants. Right through 
 the centre of the van the English cut their way, mak- 
 ing a path crowded with men's and horses' bodies. 
 By superhuman valor they reached the main body 
 under the Duke of Bar. Here they were opposed by 
 a more orderly and more obstinate resistance. The 
 main body had not received the shock of their own 
 cavalry. They were as well disposed as it was possi- 
 ble for them to be in a narrow plain, with the sun 
 glaring in their eyes, and mud clinging to their thick 
 soles. The slaughter became appalling. The English 
 held their ground steadily, and every instant caused 
 great damage to the French line. It was for some 
 minutes an even conflict. But soon the confusion in 
 the broken van guard reached the contesting line, and 
 amid the crowding, jostling, want of system, and im- 
 pediments arising from their very numbers, the main 
 body likewise began to show signs of being worsted. 
 King Henry exhibited a heroism which was conspicu- 
 ous to both armies. Elmham says, that if he had 
 been of the most humble rank, the extraordinary valor 
 of his actions would have yielded him a greater re- 
 nown than that of any other person. He had dis- 
 mounted early in the fight, and he shared every dan- 
 ger of the field to which the meanest of his soldiers 
 were exposed ; fighting on foot, and not even deigning 
 to disguise himself by casting off his royal apparel. 
 His manly countenance, lit up with the ardor of mar- 
 tial excitement, was seen at all points in the line ; and 
 it is believed that he slew more Frenchmen than any 
 other Englishman at Agincourt. 
 
im 
 
 IIENUY THE FIFTH. 
 
 An interesting incident occurred just after the van 
 guard of the French Lad been penetrated. Humphrey, 
 Duke of Gloucester, younger brother of the King, 
 was fighting valiantly at a little distance from his men, 
 and, having upon him the rich garments which befit- 
 ted the blood royal, was a conspicuous mark for the 
 French knights. The Duke of Alencon, with several 
 knights, rushed upon him and stabbed him in the 
 stomach, so that he fell fainting to the ground, with 
 his feet toward the French. The King happened to 
 see his brother's danger, and came up with all haste 
 to protect him. He rushed upon them with an impe- 
 tuosity which surprised his opponents, and which 
 made them stand back. As he stooped, however, to 
 lift the senseless Gloucester, Alencon aimed a blow 
 at his head which cleft his crown, and had nigh cost 
 Henry his life. The royal guard now rushed up 
 and were about to slay the King's assailant, when he 
 threw up his arms, exclaiming, "I am the Duke of 
 Alencon, and I yield myself to you." The King was 
 about to grasp his hand, when a random blow struck 
 the vanquished prince, and he fell dead at Henry's 
 feet. 
 
 '' It is related," says one writer* " that the blow 
 which struck off part of Henry's crown was given by 
 one of a body of eighteen knights, belonging to the 
 retinue of the Lord of Croy, led by Brunelet de Ma- 
 singuehen, and Gaiiiot de Bournonville, who had 
 sworn that they would force themselves sufficiently 
 near to where the King of England fought to strike 
 the royal diadem from his head, or that they would 
 die in (lie attempt; a vow which was literally fulfilled) 
 
 • Sir Harris Nicholas. 
 
HFJ5TKY THE FIFTH. 337 
 
 for though one of them with his axe struck a point 
 from his crown, they were all cut to pieces." 
 
 Gloucester was borne from the field, having emu- 
 lated his royal brother in the valor of his conduct ; 
 but was not dangerously wounded, although placed 
 liors de combat for the rest of the day. Desperate 
 Avere the attempts of the French nobles to rally their 
 legions. Some mounted their horses and rode frantic- 
 ally about urging them by every appeal to stand to 
 their arms ; others rushed pell-mell in the face of the 
 foe, and sacrificed life in setting an example ; others 
 loudly proclaimed that France was lost, and cursed 
 the cowardice of the faltering lines. " The Archbishop 
 of Sens," says Michelet, " fought like a lion." Orleans 
 and Bourbon exposed themselves on every side. 
 D'Albret, who has malignantly been called a traitor, 
 fell a victim to his rash impetuosity. The Duke 
 Anthony of Brabant, a younger brother of John of 
 Burgundy, ashamed that the head of his house shpuld 
 be absent at such a crisis, and resolved to redeem by 
 his presence and worthy exploits the fair renown of 
 his family, came hastily to the battle-field — burst a 
 hole through his banner and thrust his head into it, in 
 default of armor; rushed with a few knights into the 
 very midst of the conflict ; held for some time a much 
 larger force at bay, and finally fell, pierced by a multi- 
 tude of wounds, but fighting with wonderful tenacity 
 to the very last. The fate of the brave Brabant sealed 
 the doom of the main body. Two grand divisions of 
 the French army were now vanquished. The cavalry 
 corps, which had been stationed on either flank, had 
 met their fate at the opening of the battle. The rear, 
 under the Count de Marie, alone remained. This 
 division came up gallantly as the forlorn hope. Marie 
 22 
 
.'il\8 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 and Fauquembergh led them forward to the final charge 
 with great gallantry and spirit. There were about six 
 hundred on foot. For a little they held their ground 
 nobly. They probably made greater havoc with the 
 English than any division. But the confusion of the 
 others spread to them at last ; Henry kept his men up 
 to the line with unflinching perseverance. The English 
 were now in the height of their enthusiasm ; their on- 
 set, still orderly, was irresistible. The rout, when it 
 began, was terrible. Multitudes fell victims to the 
 haste and terror of their own comrades. The con- 
 tiguous woods swarmed with flying Frenchmen. The 
 generals were taken captive by the dozen. " It was a 
 piteous sight to see the great nobles who had there 
 been slain, and who were already stark naked, like 
 those who were born men of no account." Thus says 
 one of the poor Frenchmen who saw his beloved offi- 
 cers thus stretched upon that fatal field. English 
 hearts were not less touched. An English priest who 
 was there says : " If this sight excited pity and com- 
 passion in us, who were strangers, and but passed 
 through the country, how great was the sorrow for 
 the native inhabitants. Oh, may the French nation 
 come to peace and union with the English, and de- 
 part from its iniquities and its evil ways ! " 
 
 From this we may infer that the battle had not 
 ceased before the plundering began. It is not sur- 
 prising that those poor, rude, worn soldiers should, in 
 this hour of triumph, seek to repay themselves for 
 their trials in the rewards of valor. As the rear guard 
 began to fall back in disorder, a body of French gather- 
 ed in the thicket, organized hastily, and with misera- 
 ble temerity attaeked the baggage at Henry's rear. 
 So ill-advised an undertaking resulted as might have 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 339 
 
 been expected. Henry was alarmed. He thought 
 naturally that it was the last game of the main army, 
 and that they were seeking to flank and surround 
 him. He made up his mind that there was to be a 
 renewal of the general engagement. A very large 
 quota of prisoners were in his hands, taken in the bus- 
 tle and crowding which had ensued after the penetra- 
 tion of the two front lines of the French. If the 
 French were reorganized, and should renew the attack, 
 especially at his rear, the prisoners would join their 
 comrades, and outnumbering by themselves the whole 
 English force, the result would be certain and over- 
 whelming ruin. There were some Gascons at the 
 French rear who seemed to be collecting for another 
 charge, and Henry conjectured that they were to co- 
 operate with the assailants behind him. The neces- 
 sity was nothing less than one of life or death. A 
 victory had been won which had saved his army, 
 which had shed upon him unparalleled glory, which 
 would make him the master of his destiny. It was 
 about to be lost, because of its very magnitude. That 
 is, because he had so many prisoners. He and all, his 
 faithful men would fall victims to their own success. 
 In this light the King thought quickly what he should 
 do. We cannot blame the severity of his determina- 
 tion. Any general, however humane, would have done 
 as he did. It was the cruelest necessity of war — the 
 darkest of military exigencies. No less stringent di- 
 lemma could palliate the deed ; but this dilemma, as 
 it seems to us, would have palliated any deed. He 
 ordered every man to put his prisoner to the sword. 
 The order was not obeyed — not from over-humanity ; 
 the men wanted the rich ransoms, and death would 
 cancel that tribute. There was no time to enforce the 
 
340 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 obedience of the men. The King ordered an esquire 
 to take two hundred archers and execute the dreadful 
 mandate. Thereupon the prisoners were killed with 
 all despatch. We cannot doubt that the gentle soul 
 of Henry revolted at so dark a deed ; even the French 
 historians admit it to have been necessaiy, and blame 
 alone those unwise warriors who caused it, by the at- 
 tack on the English baggage. Nothing can be more 
 severe than the denunciations they received from their 
 own countrymen. All the epithets which men in that 
 age used to express their indignation were poured out 
 upon them. They paid dearly for their temerity. 
 But few escaped the vengeance of the English, Those 
 who were mounted reached the scattered remnants of 
 their own army in safety ; but those who had ventured 
 on foot nearly all perished upon the spot of their de- 
 signed assault. 
 
 A somewhat similar attack had been made, early 
 in the engagement, by a crowd of peasants under Bour- 
 nonville, upon the English baggage; and they had 
 succeeded in kidnapping some horses, a sword, crown, 
 and some jewels belonging to Henry. " The leadei-s 
 of this affair," says Nicholas, " were severely punished 
 and imprisoned a long time by the Duke of Burgundy, 
 notwithstanding that they presented the sword, which 
 was richly adorned, to his son, the Count of Charolois, 
 to secure his protection." The contest, which began 
 about noon, had raged with intensity for more than 
 three hours. The impetuous valor and dogged perti- 
 nacity of both combatants are celebrated with enthu- 
 siasm by all the chroniclers who have preserved an ac- 
 count of that memorable day. The mere narrative 
 of the bailie testifies how many brave actions must 
 have been performed, how obstinately the victory 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 341 
 
 must have been disputed. Of the prowess and ac- 
 tivity of the King of England there is but one voice — 
 all yield him the renown of having been the most con- 
 spicuous by reason less of his rank, than of his deeds 
 of valor. He was preeminently the hero of the Eng- 
 lish side, as Brabant was of the French side. The 
 slaughter of the French was terribly great. " When," 
 says one of the chroniclers,* " some of the enemy's van 
 were slain, those behind pressed over their bodies, so 
 that the living fell over the . dead, and others again 
 falling on them, they were immediately put to death. 
 In three places near Henry's banners, so large was the 
 pile of corpses, and of those who were thrown upon 
 them, that the English stood on the heaps, which ex- 
 ceeded a man's height, and butchered their adversaries 
 below with their swords and axes." Upwards of ten 
 thousand Frenchmen lay dead upon the field ; of these, 
 one hundred and twenty were nobles who had the 
 dignity of heraldic banners. Seven princes were 
 among the number ; the Duke of Brabant, the Count 
 of Nevers, the Commander-in-chief D'Albret, the Duke 
 of Alencon, and the two Dukes de Bar. Among 
 others who were slain were the lords Dampierre, Vau- 
 demont, Marie, and Dampmartin, and the valiant 
 Archbishop of Sens. The English killed amounted 
 to about sixteen hundred ; f a significant contrast with 
 the fate of the French. The fearless Edward Duke 
 of York fell, in the midst of the battle, mortally 
 wounded. One narrator says that, being a heavy 
 man, he was thrown from his horse and suffocated in 
 the confusion ; another account tells us that his helmet 
 was beaten in upon his brain. The younger Earl of 
 Suffolk, who had attained his dignity by his father's 
 
 * Chronicler A. •} St. Eemy and Monstrelet. 
 
342 
 
 ITENHY THE FIFTH. 
 
 death at Harncur, was killed, while leading some 
 men-at-arms on to the French main body. David 
 Gamme, a Welshman, whose valor was repeatedly 
 remarked during the day, also fell. He had served 
 in the Welsh rebellion, but having quarrelled with 
 Glendower, he had entered the English service. He 
 had been the first to discover the presence of the 
 French on the field of Agincourt. On being asked 
 how many of the enemy there were, he is said to have 
 answered with spirit, " Enough to be killed, enough 
 to be taken prisoners, enough to fly." 
 
 The principal knights lost to the English army 
 were Sir Richard Kighley, Thomas Fitzhenry, and 
 John de Peniton. The Duke of Gloucester as we 
 have seen, was wounded in the midst of the battle, so 
 as to be unable to resume his armor. The loss of the 
 French predominated not more in the number and 
 rank of their slain, than in the number and rank of 
 those made captive. After the wholesale destruction 
 of prisoners which had been ordered, there remained 
 to Henry, at the conclusion of the battle, over fifteen 
 hundred captives, and among them there were the 
 Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, Arthur Count of 
 Richemont, Boucicault, Marshal of France, the Counts 
 of Eu, Vendome, and Richelieu, Harcourt, and Craon. 
 This list comprehended the chief princes of the blood 
 royal of France, excepting the Duke of Burgundy, 
 who had, probably with design, staved away from the 
 field. The proud and confident nobles who had that 
 iii< inline longed for the night to come that thev might 
 celebrate the annihilation of the invader, who had 
 exultantly put their full legions across his path, now 
 either lay stretched in death amongst their meanest 
 soldiers, or were reserved to wait upon the table of 
 
HENRY THE EIFTH. 343 
 
 their triumphant adversary. The best blood of France 
 had flowed only to shed lustre upon English arms ; 
 the noblest chivalry of France had been destroyed to 
 make the name of the English King doubly terrible 
 to their countrymen. The arrogant claimant to the 
 crown of the Valois could now flourish a victory in 
 the face of the helpless Charles, and demand, with 
 better grace, the hand of a royal princess in marriage. 
 
 The scattered and hopeless remnants of the French 
 army made the best of their way through the woods 
 and over the hills, out of the path of their conquerors. 
 Philip, the eldest son of the Duke of Burgundy, 
 caused the dead to be buried with as much decency 
 as possible. The English engaged themselves in a 
 like duty on their side of the field. 
 
 When the din of the battle had entirely ceased, and 
 twilight approached, Henry, attended by a party of 
 his principal nobility, walked over the field, and gave 
 orders for clearing it of the weapons, wagons, and 
 banners which were scattered about. He repeat- 
 edly stopped, and addressed himself to Heaven in 
 prayers of thanksgiving. He personally gave com- 
 mands that the wounded on both sides should receive 
 proper care, and that those in extreme danger should 
 have the privilege of confession and the sacrament, 
 with extreme unction from the priests. As he was 
 going over the plain, he saw Montjoye, the herald of 
 France. Calling him to his side, he said : " It is not 
 we who have done this slaughter, but Cod, for the sins 
 of the French. To whom does this victory belong — 
 to me, or to the King of the French?" "To you,, 
 Monseigneur," responded the herald. Then the King,, 
 turning, asked, "What castle is that yonder?" One 
 near by said it was " Agincourt." " Then," said Henry, 
 
344 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 speaking in a loud voice, " then, as all battles should 
 bear the name of the fortress nearest to the scene of ac- 
 tion, this shall forever be called ' The Battle of Agix- 
 court.' " Thus the King spent the latter part of that 
 memorable day, on which he achieved a fame surpass- 
 ing even that of the Black Prince or Edward the Third ; 
 pondering on the scene with complacent satisfaction, 
 and yet rather devout than exultant; preserving his 
 equanimity and royal bearing, giving his orders with 
 exactness and promptitude, and not forgetting, in the 
 midst of his triumph, to refer his destiny to the hands 
 of God. 
 
 As it grew dark and began to rain, the King re- 
 turned on foot to Maisoncelles, which had been his head- 
 quarters before the battle, and whither many of the 
 wounded had been earned The Count of Bichemont, 
 who was a son of the English Queen-dowager Joan 
 by her first husband, the Duke of Brittany, was found 
 lying, nearly dead, under several corpses, covered with 
 blood, and unconscious. The Duke of Orleans nar- 
 rowly escaped suffocation from a similar situation. 
 Many were found alive underneath the mounds of 
 dead bodies piled up helter-skelter on the field. The 
 remains of York and Suffolk were boiled, that they 
 might be preserved for entombment in England. 
 
 Those of the English dead who were not buried 
 were gathered into a barn and burned. The King's 
 supper was prepared in the humble hut where he had 
 rested on the previous night, and was composed of 
 viands taken from the luxurious camp of the defeated 
 army. Around his chair, in the capacity of attendants, 
 stood Orleans, and Bourbon, and Boueicault, and Ven- 
 doiiic, his illustrious captives, who supplied his plate 
 with that which was to have graced their own trium- 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 345 
 
 phal feast. This was a custom of the age, and Henry, 
 with a delicacy which attracted the gratitude of the 
 bitterest of his crestfallen foes, strove to render the 
 humiliating service as slight as possible. He addressed 
 them with cordial courtesy, and invited them to par- 
 take of the contents of the table. Thus wore away 
 the evening which followed the most splendid victory, 
 perhaps, of the post-crusade period. 
 
 "When we compare the discrepancy of numbers, the 
 weariness, raggedness, and half-famished condition of 
 the English, with the freshness, comfort, and fully fed 
 condition of the French, the hostility and strangeness of 
 the country to the one, with its friendliness and familiar- 
 ity to the other, the purpose of flight and escape which 
 actuated the one, with the purpose of vengeance and 
 annihilation which actuated the other; when we con- 
 sider that the French chose and the English had to ac- 
 cept the ground upon which to fight ; when we find 
 generals of old renown pitted against a mere youth ; 
 when we see the whole chivalry and warlike enterprise 
 of a nation brought upon its own soil against a 
 meagre band of retreating foreigners ; and when, with 
 such terrible contrasts before us, we regard the issue, 
 the steady and finally complete success of the weaker 
 party, we may not fear that we are extravagant in 
 viewing it as one of the most wonderful battles which 
 any age has witnessed. To three cooperating causes 
 the success of Agincourt is to be attributed: to the 
 idea of desperation which animated the English, and 
 made them throughout an unflinching unit in action ; 
 to the over confidence and therefore carelessness of 
 the French ; and to the masterly generalship of King 
 Henry the Fifth. Had either of these three circum- 
 stances failed, defeat would have been certain. Had 
 
34G HENEY THE FIFTH. 
 
 the French used a proper caution with their great 
 superiority of numbers; had Henry faltered in his 
 strategy or in his leadership ; had the English been 
 less certain of their fate if vanquished, every trace of 
 the army which had started from Harfleur would have 
 been obliterated by the angry host who sought to 
 administer the vengeance of France. That both parties 
 fought with sublime bravery, is certain. No battle was 
 ever more resplendent with chivalrous incidents ; no 
 battle ever covered the flower of either nation with 
 prouder laurels ; no battle was ever more hardly won. 
 At the time of this his most glorious success, 
 Henry was but twenty-seven years of age. He had 
 been an apt scholar in the art of war. More than 
 this, he was born to be a great general. Though he 
 had been schooled in the conflicts with the Welsh, 
 there is a marked difference between those campaigns 
 and that which he had just concluded. The resources 
 of genius had never been necessary to quell the rebel- 
 lious Celts. He had had a competent and well-pro- 
 vided army on the western border, greatly outnum- 
 bering the enemy, and perfectly secure. But a situa- 
 tion can hardly be imagined which would suggest 
 more difficulties to the mind of a commander than 
 that in which Henry found himself at Agincourt. 
 There every resource of mind was forced into action. 
 It would have been a glorious achievement for Gus- 
 tavus, for Frederick, for Turenne, for Napoleon, with 
 as great disadvantages, to have conquered so superior 
 a force. By the issue of Agincourt, Henry not only 
 saved his army from destruction, and England from 
 ignominy ; he also ultimately secured the crown of 
 France for his son, and compelled the proud barons 
 of England's greatest rival to do homage to the Eng- 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 347 
 
 lish crown. The vicinity of the field of Crecy inspired 
 him to emulate the renown of his great-grandfather, 
 Edward the Third. He too had turned upon a close- 
 pursuing and over-confident foe, and had forced his 
 passage through the shattered ranks of a superior 
 army. Agincourt is less than twenty miles northeast 
 of Crecy, in the Department of the Straits of Calais. 
 The battle of Agincourt was fought on Friday, the 
 25th of October, 1415. ' 
 
 Henry, after a -' consultation with Erpingham 
 and other generals,' determined to lose no time in 
 reaching Calais, and crossing to England. His 
 available force had been reduced to something less, 
 probably, than four thousand men. The military 
 strength of France, although it had met with 
 a terrible blow, was yet very far from exhausted. 
 For the time there was harmony of action between 
 the Burgundians and the Armagnacs, who were ready 
 to join arms against Henry. He could count no more 
 upon internal dissension, for that had vanished before 
 the common hatred of the English. Doubtless the 
 Dauphin and John the Fearless were even now gather- 
 ing together large armies to come against him, which 
 it would be insane to meet, a contest with which would 
 be certain ruin. The English, who had gone through 
 severe trials, needed, above every thing, rest. They 
 were not capable of another successful campaign until 
 time had been given them to recruit their exhausted 
 energies. It was wise, therefore, in the King to seek 
 to make, for the present, no farther use of his great 
 victory, than to pursue uninterrupted the march which 
 had been obstructed by the defeated army. Soon 
 after dawn on Saturday morning, Henry, leading his 
 army, returned to the field of Agincourt on his way 
 
348 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 to Calais. Many of the bodies were yet unburied, 
 and some were found yet alive amid the heaps of 
 corpses and utensils of war. The bodies which had 
 not already been stripped of all their ornaments and 
 clothing, now became the plunder of the victors. Mon- 
 strelet says that the English soldiers took their jewels 
 and gold, but that the French peasantry in the neigh- 
 borhood plundered them of their appareL The most 
 illustrious of the dead were withdrawn from the mass, 
 and entombed at the Church of the Friars Minors in 
 the neighboring town of Hesdin ; some of the nobles 
 were taken to their own families by faithful attend- 
 ants, who had followed them to the war. Philip, 
 Count of Charolois, the son and heir of John of Bur- 
 gundy, ordered the rest of the corpses to be interred. 
 He engaged the Abbot of Roussainville to superin- 
 tend the mournful work. A plot of ground on the 
 field of battle was measured off, trenches dug, and 
 nearly six thousand men found there a grave in com- 
 mon. The Bishop of Guisnes consecrated the place, 
 and it was surrounded carefully with a hedge, to pre- 
 serve it from the depredations of wolves and dogs.* 
 Meanwhile Henry was moving steadily toward Calais 
 which is about forty miles from Agincourt. The Eng- 
 lish took up the march in admirable order. Their 
 prisoners were stationed between the vanguard and 
 the main body. The brilliant cotes (farm^ were 
 no longer worn, but loose jackets, which made their 
 motion easier. The King, as the others, was plainly 
 dressed, often dismounting and marching by the side 
 of his column for miles together. At one of the halt- 
 ing places, Henry, who was as delicate as possible in 
 ilut treatment of his august prisoners, sent some bread 
 
 Monstrolct, S32. 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 349 
 
 and wine to the Duke of Orleans, as a friendly com- 
 pliment. The haughty young prince refused to taste of 
 them. When Henry heard this, he came to him, and 
 gently said to him, "Fair cousin, how are you?" 
 " Well, my lord," was the reply. " Why, then, is it," 
 asked the King, " that you will neither eat nor drink? " 
 " Truly, sire, I have no inclination for food." " Noble 
 cousin," said Henry, " be of good heart. I know that 
 God gave me the victory over the French, not that I 
 deserved it, but I fully believe that he wished to pun- 
 ish them ; and if what I have heard be true, it is not 
 to be wondered at, for never were there greater dis- 
 order, sensuality, and vices seen than now prevail in 
 France, which is possible to hear described; and if 
 God is provoked, no one can be astonished at it." 
 The King took frequent opportunity to converse with 
 Orleans, and at all times showed him a delicate and 
 kindly courtesy, and a sympathy for the annoyances of 
 his situation. At first Orleans was silent and moody ; 
 but the genial overtures of his captor soon melted 
 him, and made him social and inclined to cheerfulness. 
 This Charles of Orleans was an interesting 
 personage. Very unlike his father and grand- 
 father, he had a gentle and amiable character, was 
 sentimental, and was passionately fond of literature. 
 He was, perhaps, the best lyrical poet of his age. 
 Many of his songs are read by the French to this day 
 with lively interest. His sequel may be as well told 
 here. He was a prisoner twenty-five years in Eng- 
 land. First confined in Windsor Castle, he was ere 
 long transferred to Pontefract, where he continued un- 
 til the English had ceased to covet the French crown. 
 He was treated with that deference and liberality 
 which was due to a royal prince, and he was supplied 
 
350 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 with every luxury except that of liberty. The amuse- 
 ments afforded him there were principally hawking 
 and doe hunting. But his most congenial pastime 
 was in the composition of ballads, which, for their ex- 
 cellence, Michelet has not hesitated to compare with 
 those of Beranger. "A Beranger somewhat weak, 
 perhaps, but without bitterness, without vulgarity, 
 always good-natured, amiable, graceful, with a gentle 
 gayety that never exceeds a smile, and that smile is 
 on the verge of tears. One would almost fancy that 
 this is the reason why his pieces are so short ; he often 
 stops in time, feeling the tears coming into his eyes. 
 If they come, they do not continue long ; not longer 
 than an April shower." * The poet prince beguiled 
 away the weary hours of his confinement in such de- 
 lightful musiugs. He had a most tender heart; he 
 was perpetually in love. Innumerable were the billets- 
 doux in rhyme which passed from Pontefract over 
 the Channel, to favorite dames in his own land. Being 
 a person of much beauty, young, tender-hearted, grace- 
 ful, fanciful, melancholy, and imaginative, the young 
 English ladies became fond of him, and envied their 
 fair French rivals the little charming missives which 
 were constantly on their way laden with pathetic 
 verses. So highly, indeed, was he esteemed by the 
 romantic maidens of Britain, that the tradition tells 
 us they chose, in honor of Charles of Orleans and his 
 mother Valentine, St. Valentine's day as their festival 
 of love. It was with such a companion that Henry 
 journeyed from Agincourt to Calais. He had as yet 
 only known Orleans as a brave and chivalrous soldier, 
 which qualities lie possessed equally with the other 
 captives. The Marshal Boucicault, another of his prison- 
 
 * Mlcholot'a France, vol. 11., p. 11.1. 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 353 
 
 ers, was also a poet, it seems ; although his fame in 
 this direction does not approach that of the young 
 Orleans* 
 
 The march toward Calais proceeded without inci- 
 dent. There was neither hurry nor delay, hut the army 
 moved with regularity and ease toward their destina- 
 tion. At Guisnes, about ten miles below Calais, Henry 
 paused with his suite and the most distinguished of 
 his prisoners, while his army went on to the seaport. 
 He was received by the commandant of Guisnes with 
 ostentatious welcome, and the castle near the town 
 was put at his service. There he sojourned until his 
 men had reached Calais, and were established there. 
 The wearied columns, with their burden and booty, 
 were not received by the citizens of Calais with that 
 generous welcome which they had hoped for. The 
 prisoners, especially those who were wounded, were 
 suffering miserably, and even the army provisions 
 on the march had not been too plentiful. Besides, 
 half the army were in rags. The citizens, not over- 
 pleased that their own countrymen had sustained so 
 ignominious a defeat, refused to admit the columns 
 within the ramparts. It was with the greatest diffi- 
 culty that the poor soldiers could procure food and 
 clothing, at the most exorbitant prices. The trophies 
 of war, the jewels and weapons and apparel which 
 they had brought from the victorious field, were parted 
 with for the bare necessaries of life, at rates which 
 prove alike their wretched condition and the ill-humor 
 of the people of Calais. Intelligence of this inhospita- 
 ble treatment soon reached the King at Guisnes. He 
 at once ordered some transports to be hired, and when 
 they were collected, he instructed his generals to em- 
 
 * Livre des faita du Marshal Boucicault. 
 
352 HENEY TIIE FIFTH. 
 
 bark the army, and proceed to England. When the 
 news reached the troops that they were so soon to see 
 once more their beloved country, they were wild with 
 joy. They knew that when they came once more 
 among the mothers and wives of old England, their 
 wants would be tenderly cared for, and their tales of 
 victory would be listened to by hearts proud and full 
 of happiness. The news of Agincourt had already 
 spread rapidly through England, when the army dis- 
 embarked upon her shores. The whole country was 
 alive with the marvellous story that the gallant young 
 Henry had defeated a force ten times his numbers. The 
 tidings were being celebrated by holidays, fairs, great 
 gatherings, and patriotic minstrelsy. The reception 
 of the hardy veterans can be imagined. Everywhere 
 they went ovations greeted them, their paths were 
 strewn with flowers, choirs of maidens celebrated their 
 renown, great feasts were spread before them in baro- 
 nial halls, people flocked around them in curious and 
 wondering crowds, and listened with mouths agape and 
 eyes distent at their accounts of the never-to-be-forgot- 
 ten field of Agincourt. 
 
 After the last transport had gone on its way, 
 the King and his companions proceeded to Calais. 
 He entered the town on the 29th of October, 
 three weeks after his departure from Harfleur. 
 He met with a far more agreeable reception than 
 his soldiers had done. The principal citizens, with 
 priests in their robes, went beyond the walls to 
 meet him and escort him to the town. The women 
 and children mingled the cry of " Welcome the King, 
 our Sovereign Lord," with the "Te Denms" with 
 which Hie priests Idled the air. Within the town an 
 ovation was given him, and he was everywhere hailed 
 
HENEY THE PIFTH. 353 
 
 as the Conqueror and the Victorious. He remained at 
 Calais about twenty days, inspecting the defences, 
 making plans for the future, and devoting a large por- 
 tion of his time to pious ceremonies in the churches. 
 
 On the 16th day of November Henry crossed to 
 Dover, arriving there late in the evening of that day. 
 The brief voyage was then, as now, a rough one. On 
 this day the sea was unusually turbulent, and the 
 royal vessel plunged hither and thither without re- 
 gard to its precious cargo. The King himself seems 
 to have borne the passage with equanimity and a tran- 
 quil stomach ; but there are amusing accounts of the 
 distress which some of the French princes suffered 
 from that very unprincely distemper, sea-sickness. 
 They declared that their sufferings were greater than 
 they had ever been in battle ; and they were lost in 
 wonder when they saw Henry as placid as always, and 
 even enjoying the rollicking motion of the ship. 
 
 As we have said, the news of Agincourt reached 
 England long before its hero put his foot upon her 
 shores. At London it was received with every dem- 
 onstration of rejoicing. The bells rang all over the 
 city, and the churches were thrown open that the peo- 
 ple might return thanks to the Almighty.* A pro- 
 cession, composed of priests, the mayor and aldermen, 
 peers of the realm, persons of distinction, and Joan 
 of Navarre, the Dowager of Henry the Fourth, went 
 through the streets, which were close packed, from St. 
 Paul's Cathedral to Westminster Abbey, where a 
 grand Te Deum was performed. As soon as Parlia- 
 ment met, John Duke of Bedford, the Regent, went 
 before them in person, and announced the victory in 
 eloquent terms. When the King landed at Dover 
 
 * Harleian MS. 
 23 
 
<j<j1 iienby the fifth. 
 
 tlie people for miles around flocked in his path, and 
 manifested their pride and loyalty by every conceiv- 
 able method. Livius says that multitudes rushed into 
 the sea as his ship approached the port, lifted him in 
 their arms, and bore him in triumph to the land. He 
 did not stop at Dover, being anxious to resume his 
 sovereignty as soon as possible at London. When he 
 came to Canterbury, the Primate with his clergy met 
 him, and here, too, he received an ovation which, but 
 that it was becoming common, must have gladdened 
 his heart. Thence he proceeded to his favorite manor 
 of Eltham, where he paused over night to recuperate 
 for the fatigues which awaited him at the capital ; for 
 the people of his right loyal metropolis had prepared 
 for him such a welcome as few kings have ever wit- 
 nessed, and a pageant, the splendor of which language 
 fails to convey a just idea. Sir Harris Nicholas has 
 translated the account of a priest who was there and 
 saw it, as doing more justice to the scene than the 
 words of a modern writer could do. We shall follow 
 his example, and, adopting his excellent translation, 
 give the scene as it was painted by an eye-witness. 
 King Henry set out from Eltham on the morning of 
 Saturday, the 23d. When he reached Blackheath, 
 near London, he found the Lord Mayor, corporation, 
 and citizens of London " dressed in scarlet gowns, with 
 red and white hoods, to the number of twenty thou- 
 sand, all on horseback, arranged according to their 
 companies (or guilds), the devices of which formed 
 part of the ornaments of their apparel," waiting to es- 
 cort him thither. lie received their hearty congratu- 
 lations, and in their company entered the city. Here 
 bcir'nis the narrative of the old chronicler: * " On the 
 
 Chronicler A. 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 355 
 
 top of a tower at the approach, to London Bridge, 
 stood a gigantic figure, holding an axe in his right 
 hand, as the champion of the city ; and in his left, as 
 porter, the keys on a staff. At his right stood a fe- 
 male, not much less in size, wearing a scarlet mantle 
 and ornaments, to personate his wife. Banners of the 
 royal arms were placed on the turrets of this tower, 
 and in front of it were the words " Civitas Regis Jus- 
 ticie." As the procession advanced amid the sound of 
 trumpets, clarions, and horns, nearer to the bridge, 
 they found on each side a column in imitation of a 
 tower, built of wood, and covered with linen cloth, 
 painted like white marble and green jaspar. At the 
 summit of the right-hand column stood an antelope 
 erect, having a shield with the royal arms suspended 
 from his neck, and holding the sceptre in his right 
 foot ; and on the top of the other column was a lion 
 erect, supporting in his right claws a staff, with a royal 
 banner. Over the foot of the bridge, across the road, 
 was raised a tower like the columns, in the middle 
 of which, under a splendid pavilion, stood a beautiful 
 image of St. George, armed excepting his head, which 
 was adorned with a laurel wreath studded with pearls 
 and precious stones, and behind his back was crimson 
 tapestry, covered with shields of his arms. To the 
 right hung his triumphant helmet, and on his left a 
 shield of his arms. In his right hand he held the hilt 
 of his sword with which he was girded, and in his left 
 a roll which extended along the turrets, containing 
 these words : " Soli Deo honor et gloria ; " and in front 
 of the tower: "Fluminis impetus letificat civitatem 
 Dei." From the awning and turrets were hung hal- 
 berds bearing the King's arms. In an adjoining house 
 behind the tower were several boys, representing the 
 
356 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 angelic host, arrayed in white, with glittering wings, 
 and wearing sprigs of laurel in their hair; who, on 
 the King's approach, sang an English anthem, accom- 
 panied by organs." One of the songs is preserved in 
 Percy's Iieliques. We will give one or two verses : 
 
 " Then, forsooth, that Knight comely 
 In Agincourt field he fought manly, 
 Through grace of God most mighty, 
 He had both the field and the victory. 
 
 " Their Dukes and Earls, Lord and Baron, 
 Were taken, and slain, and that well soon, 
 And some were led into London 
 With joy and mirth and great renown. 
 
 " Now gracious Lord, he saves our King, 
 His people, and all his well willing, 
 Gives him good life, and good ending, 
 That we with mirth might safely sing 
 Deo gratias." 
 
 " The tower," continues the chronicler, " of the con- 
 duit in Cornhill was covered with crimson cloth, spread 
 like a tent on poles. Around the middle of the tower 
 were the arms of Saints George, Edward, Edmund, 
 and of England, in four places, with intermediate es- 
 cutchions of the royal arms, among which this inscrip- 
 tion was inserted, ' Quoniam Hex sperat in Domino et 
 in misericordia altissimi non commovebitur.' Higher, 
 on the turrets, were the arms of the royal family on hal- 
 berds. Under the pavilion stood a company of proph- 
 ets, dressed in coats and mantles of gold, having their 
 heads covered with gold and crimson, who when Henry 
 passed, set a host of sparrows and other small birds 
 at liberty, as a sacrifice agreeable to God, in return 
 for the victory; some of which alighted on his breast, 
 Home rested on his shoulders, and some fluttered about 
 him. The prophets then sang, bowing to the ground, 
 
HENBY THE FIFTH. 357 
 
 the psalm, ' Cantate Domino,' etc. The cavalcade ad- 
 vanced to the conduit at the entrance of Cheap street, 
 which was hung with green, with escutcheons of the 
 arms of the city; and the turrets were ornamented 
 with halberds hearing arms, which projected as in other 
 places. Under the covering were twelve venerable 
 men, on whose foreheads were written the names of the 
 apostles, together with the twelve kings, martyrs, and 
 confessors of the succession of England, having girdles 
 of gold, sceptres in their hands, and crowns on their 
 heads, who chaunted at the King's approach, and 
 threw upon him round leaves of silver mixed with 
 thin wafers ; wine, at the same time, running out of 
 pipes from the conduit, ' that they might,' it is said, 
 'receive him with bread and wine, as Melchisedec 
 received Abraham, returning victoriously from the 
 slaughter of the four kings.' On arriving at the cross 
 of the Cheap, a castle appeared instead of the cross, 
 constructed of wood with equal ingenuity and ele- 
 gance, and beautifully ornamented with towers, col- 
 umns, and bastions ; having arches on both sides, almost 
 as high as a spear and a half, each of which at one 
 extremity supported the castle, and at the other ex- 
 tending over the street, seemed to form part of the 
 neighboring buildings, under which the people rode, 
 as through two gates. On the fronts of these gates 
 On each side, was written, ' Grloriosa dicta sunt de te 
 civitas Dei.' It was covered with a linen awning 
 painted like white marble, and green and crimson 
 jaspar, to represent polished stones. The arms of St. 
 George adorned the summit of the castle and the 
 lower tower ; on one part were the King's arms ; on 
 the other, the Emperor's, on halberds ; and the lower 
 turrets had the arms of the royal family, and of the 
 
OiJN HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 grout peers of the realm. From the middle of this 
 castle toward the King, a handsome portal projected, 
 from which was extended a wooden bridge reaching 
 from the ground to the height of a man's waist, for 
 the purpose of viewing the pageant, covered with 
 tapestry; posts and barriers being planted on each 
 side, for avoiding the pressure of the people. Upon 
 this bridge a chorus of beautiful virgins, elegantly 
 attired in white, proceeded out of the castle to meet 
 the King, singing, with timbrel and dance, as to an- 
 other David coming from the slaughter of Goliath, this 
 song of congratulation, ' AVelcome Henry the Fifth, 
 King of England ami of France.' 1 From the top to 
 the bottom of the castle, in the towers, bastions, and 
 columns, were numerous boys, to represent the arch- 
 angelic and angelic host, in white apparel and feathers, 
 their hair studded with gems, who dropped golden 
 coin and boughs of laurel upon the head of the King as 
 as he passed beneath ; singing to the honor of God 
 with organs, ' Te Deum laudamus.' Having reached 
 the tower of the conduit of Cheap toward St. Paul's, 
 they found that tower surrounded by many artificial 
 pavilions, in each of which was a beautiful virgin 
 standing like an image, crowned with laurel, wearing 
 a girdle of gold, and having a golden cup in her hand, 
 from which they gently blew round leaves of gold 
 up<>n the King's head as he passed. This tower was 
 c< ivered with a canopy of the color of the sky, Avith 
 clouds artfully interwoven, the summit of which was 
 ornamented by the image of an archangel, of lucid 
 • ■old. variegated with other brilliant colors, and each 
 of the four posts which supported the canopy was 
 borne by an angel. Beneath on a throne was a ma- 
 jestic representation of the sun, whose shining rays 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 359 
 
 glittered with the utmost splendor, round which an- 
 gels chanted sweetly with all kinds of music. 
 
 " Besides the crowd in the standing places and in 
 the streets, and the multitude of "both sexes looking 
 out of windows all the way from the bridge, so great 
 was the pressure in Cheap from one end to the other, 
 that the horsemen could scarcely ride through it. The 
 lattices and windows on "both sides were filled with 
 the noblest ladies of the realm, and with men of dis- 
 tinction, elegantly dressed in gold, fine linen, and 
 crimson, forming so brilliant an assemblage that it 
 was considered a spectacle of such splendor was never 
 before seen in London. The sides of the houses and 
 other buildings were lined with tapestry, on which 
 were representations of the achievements of the heroes 
 of antiquity, as well as of those of the kings of Eng- 
 land. "When the procession arrived at St. Paul's 
 Henry dismounted, and being received by fourteen 
 Bishops in pontificals, he entered the church. Advanc- 
 ing to the high altar, he made his offering, after which 
 'Te Deum' was sung with great solemnity. They 
 then proceeded in the same order to "Westminster, in 
 which church the King again performed his devotions, 
 and then entered his palace there, when the citizens 
 returned to their homes." 
 
 Thus concludes this clear description of the pageant 
 which celebrated the victorious return of Henry from 
 Agincourt. "We seem to see every thing which the 
 quaint chronicler depicts, and we become familiar with 
 the unique devices to which that age resorted in their 
 festivities. Thus magnificently was Henry welcomed 
 to his capital. Doubtless, as the chronicler says, no 
 spectacle had ever "been witnessed in the metropolis 
 comparable to it. Even the return of Edward from 
 
360 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 Crecy, and of the Black Prince, with the captive King 
 of France in his train, did not equal it. The proces- 
 sion was five hours passing from London Bridge to 
 Westminster. Probably not less than fifty thousand 
 persons witnessed it. Henry himself rode in the midst, 
 bearing himself modestly and calmly, and with a 
 countenance benign and cheerful. His apparel was a 
 model of simplicity. He wore an unostentatious pur- 
 ple robe, with a small coronet upon his brow. The 
 Dukes of Orleans and Bourbon, the Counts of Eu, 
 Vendome, Bichemont, and Richelieu, and the Marshal 
 Boucicault, escorted by a guard, went in the rear of 
 the royal train ; but there was no ostentation in ob- 
 truding their humiliation, and the people were mag- 
 nanimous enough to forbear from undue exultation 
 as they passed. Heniy forbade his officers to display 
 his helmet and armor, bruised in the exertion of bat- 
 tle; neither would he permit the minstrels to sing 
 peans of praise to him, as, he said, " God hath won the 
 victory." Throughout the pageant the King main- 
 tained the placid and amiable dignity with which he 
 had always appeared on public occasions since his 
 accession to the throne. The noblemen and great 
 officers of state who attended him, formed a striking 
 contrast to their sovereign both in dress and manner. 
 They glittered with jewels, ermine, and gold; the 
 heroes of the battle were arrayed in their war equip 
 ments, and beside them their squires bore the trophies 
 which each had brought away to commemorate his 
 prowess. Their steeds were splendidly caparisoned, 
 and pranced gnvly about with their stately riders, as 
 if they, too, mingled in the universal joy. 
 
 The Dowager Queen Joan, whose son by her first 
 husband, the Count of Bichemont, was one of the 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 361 
 
 prisoners taken "by Henry at Agincourt, when he was 
 brought to London in the royal train, requested per- 
 mission to see him. The request was granted. When 
 the young Count was about to come to her apartment, 
 she placed one of her ladies-in-waiting in her seat, 
 and took her position with the other attendants. 
 Richemont advanced to the supposed Queen, and ad- 
 dressed her as if she were his mother. The deception 
 was kept up for some time, when the occupant of the 
 royal chair told him to salute the other ladies. When 
 he came before his mother, who was standing among 
 the rest, she could no longer restrain her natural emo- 
 tions, but throwing herself upon him, and bursting 
 into tears, cried out, " Unhappy son, do you not know 
 me ? " He embraced her tenderly, and a few moments 
 were spent in endearments and conversation. Then 
 Joan dismissed her son, with a thousand nobles to 
 supply his necessities, and those of his companions in 
 captivity. 
 
 On the 24th the civic authorities of London brought 
 to the King as a present, two large vases filled with 
 gold. This was no usual mark of affection. Several 
 days afterward the brave Duke of York was interred 
 with much state at Fotheringay, in Northamptonshire, 
 his obsequies having been celebrated at the Cathedral 
 of St. Paul's. The Earl of Suffolk was honored by a 
 similar ostentation of burial. 
 
 Among Henry's first acts after resuming the reins 
 of goverment, were his endeavors to reward those 
 who had aided him to gain the great victory. He 
 ordered a full and prompt payment of their wages to 
 be made to the soldiers, from the 8th of July up to 
 the eighth day after his return to Dover. He caused 
 a roll to be made out, containing the names of all 
 
3G2 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 who were participators in the battle.* He ordered 
 that the coats of arms which had been assumed on 
 that day, whether rightfully or not, should continue 
 to be the escutcheons of their bearers and their de- 
 scendants. To Thomas Strickland, as one instance of 
 Henry's thoughtfulness, the bearer of the Banner of 
 St. George at Agincourt, he remitted his arrears to 
 the Exchequer in honor of that service. He filled 
 every vacancy which occurred for some years there- 
 after in the Order of the Garter, with the most distin- 
 guished of his lieutenants who had participated in the 
 battle. 
 
 In 1416, the Earls of Huntingdon, Oxford, and 
 Salisbury, Lord Caraoys, and Sir William Harrington, 
 were made Knights of the Garter; in 1419, Lord Wil- 
 loughby D'Eresby, Sir William Phelip, and Stafford 
 Li >rd Bourchier ; and in 1420, Mowbray Earl of Not- 
 tingham, the Earl Marshal, Lord Clifford, Sir Her- 
 tank Von Clux, Sir Lewis Robsart, Sir Walter Hun- 
 gerford, and De la Pole, Earl of Suffolk. The order 
 of knighthood was bountifully conferred upon those 
 whose valor had designated them as proper objects 
 of royal notice. It is said that Gamme and several 
 others received this distinction whilst they lay expir- 
 ing on the field. Manors and estates were distributed 
 to some of the principal generals. Humphrey, Duke 
 of Gloucester, received Lanstephen in Wales, once the 
 estate of Henry Gwyn, who had fought on the French 
 side at Agincourt. Lord Fitzhugh was presented with 
 some lands which had belonged to the executed con- 
 spirator, Lord Scroop. Sir William Bourchier was 
 appointed Constable of the Tower of London. Sir 
 
 * This Koll, ag far 08 discovered, will be found in the Appendix to Sir H. 
 Nicholas. 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 363 
 
 John Fastolfe obtained the French manor of Frileuse, 
 which lay near Harfleur. To Sir John Cornwall was 
 granted the rich ransom of Peter de Keux, a marshal 
 of France. King Henry farther preserved the memor y 
 of the "battle by instituting a new heraldic king-at- 
 arms, whom he designated as the " Agincottrt king- 
 at-arms." 
 
 Of the illustrious prisoners, the Duke of Orleans, 
 as we have said, remained in captivity until 1440, 
 when a ransom of 100,000 nobles procured his liberty ; 
 the Duke of Bourbon and Marshal Boucicault ex- 
 pired in an English castle ; the Count of Vendome, in 
 1425, was exchanged for Huntingdon, who, in an ex- 
 pedition subsequent to Agincourt, became a prisoner 
 of the French ; the others met with various fortunes, 
 the greater part returning to their native land after a 
 wearisome confinement. 
 
 Of the effect of the battle of Agincourt upon sub- 
 sequent events in England and France, the events them- 
 selves, narrated in the coming chapters, will show. In 
 concluding the narrative of this wonderful conflict, 
 we cannot but call attention to the fact, that King 
 Henry the Fifth, in the whole conduct of his expedi- 
 tion, used a much more enlightened humanity toward 
 his enemy, and a much more assiduous devotion to the 
 comfort of his army, than any commander during those 
 dark ages. "War became in his hands less terrible, be- 
 cause really less disastrous. He showed mercy, mag- 
 nanimity, feeling, and Christian clemency, even amid 
 the dread necessities of war. He made no further 
 sacrifice of life and property than the exigency de- 
 manded. That, after all, is the greatest glory of his 
 exploit ; and in that he set an example worthy even 
 of modern imitation. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Up, then I victory Bits upon our hclnm I M 
 
 THE EMPEROR 8IOI8M UNI)— SECOND CAMPAIGN IN FIIANTB-DISSENSIONS 
 OF THE RIVAL DUKKS-SIEOE OF EOITEN— CONFEIiKNCKH AT MKLIW— 
 KAT1IEUINE OF VALOIB— TIIE ASSASSINATION OF BUB(1I - NI)V— THE 
 TREATY OF ARRAS— ALLIANCE BETWEEN HENRY AND PHILIP OF BUR- 
 GUNDY. 
 
 The expedition to France had been approved by 
 Parliament, by the Church, by the nobility, and by the 
 people. It had not only met the approval of all classes ; 
 it had met their substantial support. Its successful 
 issue placed Henry in an excellent position at home. 
 No monarch had ever been so entirely popular ; no mon- 
 arch had had within his grasp so great a universally 
 conceded power. The House of Lancaster now pos- 
 sessed an unquestioned royalty. Not a single voice, 
 throughout the realm, was raised against it. It re- 
 ceived the unanimous loyalty of Englishmen. The 
 Earl of Marcli, whose hereditary right was east in the 
 shade; by the brilliancy of the present reign, cheerfully 
 sustained his friend, whom he had long since ceased to 
 regard as his rival. The turbulent nobility were at 
 peace; with each other, and with the sovereign. The 
 representatives of the commonalty were devoted to 
 the dynasty which the people loved. The Church, 
 since, the suppression of Lord Cobham's conspiracy, 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 365 
 
 was pacified, and looked with, more than complacency 
 upon the reign of a King who cherished the Papal 
 supremacy. There was no lack of money in the treas- 
 ury ; of men ready to follow the banner of St. George 
 whithersover it might lead them ; of harmony in coun- 
 cil ; of order throughout the State. To whatever ends 
 the ambition of Henry might turn, the means of their 
 accomplishment seemed within the grasp of his hand. 
 The temporary exhaustion of the late campaign de- 
 manded a brief lull from the pursuit of active enter- 
 prises ; with the general recuperation would come the 
 opportunity for other laurels. 
 
 Parliament repeatedly took special notice of the 
 battle of Agincourt. "When the Duke of Bedford, as 
 Regent, called their attention to the victory early in 
 November, Cardinal Beaufort, the Chancellor, deliv- 
 ered a long address congratulatory of the event, and 
 reco mm ended the granting of further supplies for the 
 King's use. The legislature, elated with the news, 
 passed a measure causing the time for the levy which 
 had been made of two-tenths and two-fifteenths, to be 
 anticipated, so that the funds might be collected at 
 once. They further granted to the King the subsidy 
 of linen, leathers, and skins, a tax on several exporta- 
 tions, and an additional tenth and fifteenth to be col- 
 lected of the laity in the succeeding autumn (1416). 
 In March, 1416, when a new Parliament met, Chan- 
 cellor Beaufort again, in Henry's presence, opened the 
 session with a graphic account of the late expedition, 
 and a discourse upon the expediency of pursuing 
 further Henry's claim to the French crown. The Par- 
 liament each time received with acclamations the nar- 
 rative of the great victory, and their voice was unani- 
 mous in congratulation of the King, and in the enact- 
 
3GC HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 merit of whatever measures lie saw fit to request. 
 There never was for a moment in Henry's mind, a 
 question whether he should return to the invasion of 
 France. The battle of Agincourt made that a fore- 
 gone conclusion. The nation was not only acquiescent 
 in, hut urgent for, another expedition. But when the 
 spring of 1416 came, the state of the national resources, 
 though not feeble, were not such as to warrant the 
 equipment of so extensive an armament as would be 
 necessary at so short an interval. The purpose, there- 
 fore, which he had adopted while at Calais, to return 
 at once with a replenished army, was, for the time 
 being, postponed. But the spring did not pass with- 
 out an event of great interest and importance. 
 
 The Emperor Sigismund of Germany, the great aim 
 of whose life was to heal the schism of the Papacy, and 
 to bring the Church under one tiara, made it a part of 
 his scheme to secure for this end the united coopera- 
 tion of France and England. With this view he under- 
 took a journey from his capital, Frankfort, first to 
 Paris, then to London ; that he might, in person, in- 
 terpose his mediatory offices between the two courts, 
 and bring them to cooperate with his own designs. 
 His visit to the distracted metropolis of France seems 
 to have been attended with much assumption of au- 
 thority on his part. He held courts of justice, and 
 conferred knighthood upon whomsoever he pleased. 
 There was no opposition to his making free use of sov- 
 ereign prerogative. It was, indeed, an easy matter to 
 induce the wretched Charles to accede to his plan of 
 pacification, and his consent (o suspend hostilities was 
 soon gained. Having thus accomplished what he de- 
 siivd at Paris, the Emperor sent heralds to Henry to 
 announce his intention of visiting England. This 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 367 
 
 news produced a great stir, not only at court, but also 
 throughout the country. It was a rare thing to be- 
 hold an Emperor of the Holy Eoman Empire on Eng- 
 lish shores. Every preparation was made that a re- 
 ception should be extended to Sigismund worthy of 
 his lofty rank. Henry sent him a cordial message, 
 expressing his happiness at the proposed visit. The 
 Imperial guest sailed from Calais to Dover on the 29th 
 of April, just after Easter. Attending him was a reti- 
 nue of one thousand persons, most of whom were no- 
 bles, and some of whom held princely rank in Germany 
 and Italy. Thirty ships composed the fleet which 
 conveyed the Imperial stranger across the Channel. 
 But the English nation were independent of spirit, 
 and impatient at the slightest appearance of an arro- 
 gant manner. They had heard of the Emperor's pre- 
 sumptuous conduct at the Louvre, and were by no 
 means disposed that it should be repeated at West- 
 minster. "When, therefore, the vessel which contained 
 Sigismund approached the port at Dover, he met with 
 a somewhat unusual reception. The Duke of Glouces- 
 ter, Constable of Dover, when the ship was about to 
 cast anchor, rode into the water at the head of a num- 
 ber of noblemen with drawn swords, and addressed 
 the Imperial guest with a harangue at once determined 
 and courteous. " If he came as a mediator of peace, 
 they would receive him with all the honors due to the 
 imperial dignity; but if as Emperor he challenged 
 any sovereign power, they must tell him that the Eng- 
 lish nation was a free people, and their King had de- 
 pendence on no monarch on earth; and they were 
 resolved, in defence of the liberty of the people, and 
 the rights of their King, to oppose his landing on the 
 shores." The Emperor at once disclaimed any inten- 
 
368 ILENEY THE FIFTH. 
 
 tioii of interfering with Henry's sovereignty, and de- 
 clared that the sole object of his visit was to bring 
 about peace between France and England. He was 
 therefore received on shore with every demonstra- 
 tion of respect. 
 
 On his route to the metropolis the most illustrious 
 nobles of England received him in the different towns, 
 and ovations were everywhere extended to him. The 
 civic authorities of London met him at Blackheath, 
 and Henry's welcome, though he manifested the dig- 
 nity of an independent monarch, was respectful and 
 cordial. The Primate ordered prayers to be offered 
 up for his good weal. Soon after his arrival he was 
 installed at Windsor as Knight of the Order of the 
 Garter. The Emperor, finding a firm spirit in Henry 
 and his subjects, made no attempts to take upon him- 
 self the least authority. He set about his mission at 
 once, with that zealous energy which marked all his 
 actions. Among those who had accompanied him 
 hither was William of Bavaria, Duke of Holland; and 
 soon after his arrival in London, some ambassadors 
 from Paris made their appearance. Frequent councDs 
 were held by Henry, Sigismund, William, and the 
 French ambassadors, and the negotiations seemed to be 
 approaching a favorable issue. All the early summer 
 was employed in the conferences. Hemy offered to re- 
 sign his claim to the crown of the Valois, if the treaty 
 of Bretigny were reaflirmed ; a treaty which had given 
 the English kings very considerable fiefs in France. 
 The Emperor and the Duke of Holland advised the 
 French envoys to accede to this. But a haughty head 
 thought for France at that moment— the Count of 
 Amiagnae. Not only were the propositions of Henry 
 rejected (although the envoys themselves advised 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 369 
 
 their acceptance), but an act, totally subversive of 
 every hope of peace, was done by the virtual regent 
 of France. 
 
 Armagnac was a brave man, and, despite his crimes, 
 a lover of his country. The death of the Dauphin 
 had put it into his power to govern the realm with 
 absolute sway, during the now almost perpetual imbe- 
 cility of Charles, and the infancy of the new heir. 
 He resolved to restore to France that which Henry 
 had torn from her. He" ordered a fleet to sweep the 
 Channel, to hover about the English ports, and to 
 commit depredations wherever they had opportunity. 
 He then invested Harfleur on the land side, and 
 brought his ships in a cordon around the town on the 
 sea. Dorset, who was Captain of Harfleur, sent in 
 distress to Henry for succors. The news at once put 
 an end to all peace conferences. Henry resolved to 
 go in person against the French squadron. Sigismund, 
 however, dissuaded him from it, as being an affair of 
 too little moment in which to expose the royal person 
 to danger. John, Duke of Bedford, was therefore sent 
 in his place. An armament was quickly raised, a fleet 
 prepared, and ere long Bedford was able to anchor a 
 formidable force off the mouth of the Seine. 
 
 On the morning of August 14th he bore down 
 upon the besieging squadron. The attack was made 
 with promptness and great intrepidity. The English 
 came close to the French ships, poured over their sides 
 upon their decks, and did their work so quickly and 
 bravely, that their victory was easy. The crafts of the 
 enemy not already captured, made haste to escape up 
 the river, at a safe distance from their assailants. 
 Bedford, after a brief contest, entered Harfleur in tri- 
 umph. Many ships remained in his hands, and some 
 24 
 
370 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 prisoners, whilst but few of his own men were killed 
 or wounded. 
 
 After this affair the Emperor Sigismund saw no 
 longer any encouragement to seek a peace. He could 
 not take middle ground between the belligerents. 
 Doubtless his determination to declare for Henry was 
 influenced by the superior strength and unity of the 
 English, and by the fact that Henry, as well as he, 
 desired to see the Church once more united under an 
 undisputed pontiff. At all events, the Emperor 
 heartily espoused Henry's side of the quarrel. On 
 the 15th of August a league was signed by Sigismund 
 and Henry, in which the former acknowledged the 
 latter's right to the French crown, and announced his 
 intention to assist him in its acquisition. War was 
 now inevitable. The opportunity in France was ripe. 
 The English nation were fast becoming once more 
 equal to the occasion. The Emperor's approval and 
 cooperation made the issue well-nigh certain. An 
 ally equally, if not more serviceable, was found in the 
 person of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy. 
 
 We must glance briefly at the events which had 
 taken place in France subsequent to the battle of 
 Agincourt ; we shall then see how Burgundy became 
 the ally of his country's most dreaded enemy. 
 
 Burgundy and Armagnac were still contestants 
 for the metropolis. Armagnac had succeeded in lodg- 
 ing himself within its walls first, with six thousand 
 Gascons * and had taken possession of the royal person, 
 and that of the Dauphin. Burgundy, with a mounted 
 force of ten thousand, rode rapidly to the city, but 
 found himself a little too late. He retired to Lagny, 
 whore ho lay several months collecting troops, and 
 
 • MMielet, vol. li., p. 416. 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 371 
 
 contriving plots for the betrayal of the coveted Paris 
 into his hands. The deaths of the Duke de Berri, the 
 titular King of Sicily, and three Dauphins, one after 
 another, confirmed the Orleanist leader in his virtual 
 regency. He discovered repeated conspiracies to de- 
 liver the city over to his rival, and dealt with those 
 implicated without mercy. His government was a 
 perfect reign of terror. The citizens were to a man 
 under the watchful eye of his system. Atrocities were 
 committed which sicken as they are perused. Yet 
 . there was vigor and great ability in the reign of Ar- 
 magnac. Burgundy succeeded in obtaining posses- 
 sion of the Queen, Isabella of Bavaria, a brilliant but 
 wicked woman. He carried her off, declared her re- 
 gent, and in her name in reality governed the provinces. 
 Paris was fairly blockaded. No supplies coming from 
 the country, which Burgundy v controlled, the poor 
 city was reduced to the brink of starvation. Still 
 John the Fearless despaired of taking it, knowing 
 well how intrepid was the soul of his enemy, and that 
 he would hold out to the last. John the Fearless 
 hesitated at nothing which would contribute to the 
 downfall of Armagnac. He had lost every manly 
 quality and sentiment except an indomitable courage, 
 and a perseverance which never faltered. His position 
 toward the English had not been so hostile of late as 
 to commit them against him. He had not been pres- 
 ent at Agincourt ; his adherents had not been there 
 in great numbers. He had forgotten his anger at the 
 death of his brother Brabant ; he was rather glad than 
 otherwise to be rid of his brother Nevers, whom he 
 had always hated, and who had of his own accord 
 brought his fate upon himself. The way, in short, 
 was open for negotiations with Henry, and for 
 
37- HENRY THE FIFTTI. 
 
 such an arrangement as, whatever other result it 
 might have, would effectually ruin the detested Ar- 
 magnac. 
 
 A correspondence was commenced with the King 
 of England. It had reached a satisfactory point, when 
 the affair at Harfleur and the declaration of the Em- 
 peror for Henry took place. Sigismund proceeded to 
 Calais, and tarried there some days. This was not 
 remarked with alarm by the French court, until the 
 news came that Henry, too, had arrived at Calais, and 
 was in consultation with his guest. The next news 
 was yet more alarming. It was announced that the 
 Duke of Burgundy had joined the sovereigns in per- 
 son. These four, Sigismund, Henry, and the Dukes 
 of Holland and Burgundy, after a brief consultation, 
 resolved to enter into a covenant of alliance. Bur- 
 gundy was so utterly lost to shame as to give in his 
 allegiance to Henry as King of France, and to promise 
 his aid in the conquest of that crown for an enemy 
 and a foreigner. 
 
 The princes, having come to a perfect understanding 
 that the invasion of France was forthwith to be under- 
 taken by England, separated, and repaired each to his 
 own capital. King Heniy at once devoted himself to 
 preparations for once more attempting the conquest of 
 the neighboring kingdom. But it was a work of time. 
 Armies were not so easily raised and equipped in 
 
 those days. 
 
 On the 19th of October, 141G, his parliament met 
 at Westminster. The proposed expedition was an- 
 nounced to them ; and they wore asked to supply the 
 means. The popularity of Henry was undiminished ; 
 the trust and confidence which the legislature reposed 
 in him, is one of the most pleasant features of his 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 373 
 
 reign. Two whole tenths and two whole fifteenths 
 were granted to him with alacrity. The clergy- 
 offered him as earnest of their good will, two tenths. 
 Every resource was resorted to in order to swell the 
 exchequer. The utmost financial ability of the nation 
 was to be called out to sustain this newest and prob- 
 ably most glorious enterprise. Domestic loans were 
 solicited, secured by the pledges of the King's brothers. 
 Henry himself pawned much of his plate and jewelry, 
 his crown to Cardinal Beaufort, his diamonds to the 
 Lord Mayor of London. But in every effort to raise 
 the required sums, Henry took the greatest care 
 not to bear heavily upon the people. Oppressive 
 taxation was avoided. There was but little contri- 
 bution which was not voluntary. The whole nation 
 took so vivid an interest in the expedition, that money 
 was, without great difficulty, forthcoming. 
 
 All the winter and spring of 1416-17 were em- 
 ployed in levying and drilling troops, building ships, 
 accumulating the revenue, laying in stores, communi- 
 cating with the friendly princes, and taking such other 
 measures as would make success probable, if not cer- 
 tain. A strict watch was kept lest, while busy at 
 home, the important stations of Harfleur and Calais 
 should be retaken. At the beginning of July, 1417, 
 the expedition was nearly ready. It was a most 
 favorable time, as far as regarded the state of France. 
 A darker year that wretched country had never seen. 
 All was confusion, famine, crime, dismay. Armagnae, 
 who could with infinite difficulty hold Paris from Bur- 
 gundy, found that he soon would be called upon to 
 defend it against Burgundy and Henry, Sigismund and 
 William combined — combined in purpose, if not in 
 armies. Fifteen hundred vessels had been collected 
 
374 IIENKY THE FIFTH. 
 
 together, fitted up and stocked, and lay ready at Ports- 
 mouth to receive their martial burden. Over sixteen 
 thousand fighting men, completely provided with arms 
 and clothing, were assembled, a fourth of whom were 
 mounted, the others being archers. Besides these, 
 were squires, mechanics, engineers, artificers, and sap- 
 pers, swelling the whole body to a full quota of twenty- 
 five thousand persons. It is said that the King pro- 
 vided the sustenance and equipment of over one-half 
 from his own purse. The glory of the former expedi- 
 tion inspired the warlike barons to flock once more, in 
 still greater numbers than formerly, to the royal stand- 
 ard. The nobility, as before, emulated each other in 
 the multitude and quality of their troops. Henry 
 sent Holland Earl of Huntingdon, the admiral, with 
 a small squadron, to reconnoitre the Channel, and 
 clear it of obstructions, that the transports might pass 
 over in safety. The Earl came into collision with 
 some Genoese ships who were serving in the French 
 pay, and after a short but hard-contested conflict, drove 
 them from the path of the sea. Huntingdon then re- 
 turned with the announcement that the way was clear 
 to the French coast. 
 
 Henry, commanding the armament in person, set 
 out on the 23d day of July, 1417, to attempt, for the 
 second time, the conquest of the French crown. He 
 openly avowed his purpose, and confidently declared 
 his conviction that success was within his reach. The 
 whole army, leaders and men, were in fine spirits, and 
 felt themselves safe in the hands of their loving sov- 
 ereign, who had also proved himself an illustrious 
 general. The rude passage of the Channel accom- 
 plished, the columns disembarked, after some annoy- 
 ance from French skirmishers, on the first of August, 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 375 
 
 at the little harbor of Beville, not far from Harfleur. 
 About this time John the Fearless, having matured 
 his plans, was setting out from the southtoward Paris, 
 at the head of sixty thousand cavalry. Thus the 
 metropolis was threatened on either side by an army 
 each far exceeding the troops which were present to 
 defend it. The Queen Isabella was now the cordial 
 coadjutor of Burgundy, and had proclaimed him lieu- 
 tenant of the realm. So the plot was fast thickening 
 to a crisis. The English army landed without diffi- 
 culty upon the Norman coast. "With characteristic 
 boldness Henry ordered his vessels to return to Eng- 
 land ; determined that no hope of escape should give 
 an excuse to his men to falter. He maintained a rigid 
 discipline throughout his army, and caused them 
 to be constantly manoeuvred that they might not 
 grow rusty in the use of arms. He gave the most 
 stringent orders that no outrages upon the inhabitants 
 and property of the contiguous domain should go un- 
 punished, and especially preserved the priesthood from 
 the encroachments of his soldiers. It is not astonish- 
 ing that he found no one to resist his march. Armag- 
 nac would do nothing to aid the northern province — 
 for Paris itself Avas in terrible danger day by day. 
 The peasantry were the only resisting force, and from 
 their resistance Henry feared nothing. Many families 
 fled from the humiliating, theatre of the national dis- 
 grace. Some tracts through which the English passed 
 were entirely deserted, and in these tracts " there reign- 
 ed the stillness of death." The crops were ungathered, 
 the houses open, and but a few old men appeared, to 
 indicate that these now desolate fields had lately been 
 the abode of men. The first towns which he reached 
 yielded without resistance — Touque, Anvilliers, and 
 
376 IIENRY TIIE FIFTH. 
 
 Villers. Putting small garrisons in each, he proceeded 
 steadily forward, brooking no delay, yet not advancing 
 with undue haste. He was moving southwest from 
 the Seine, hoping to approach Paris from the west. 
 About the middle of August he found himself beneath 
 the walls of Caen, one of the most considerable towns 
 in Normandy, on the river Orne. Here, for the first 
 time, he met with a stubborn resistance. He was 
 forced to undertake a regular siege. The garrison re- 
 peatedly repulsed his men from the walls, and it be- 
 came necessary to try the whole strength of the army 
 against them. Finally, on the 4th of September, a 
 grand assault was made, the citadel taken, and the 
 fortifications captured. The rapine usual to such an 
 occasion was checked, as soon as it was possible to do 
 so, by the personal exertions of the King. The loss of 
 life in this siege was very great, and the sufferings of 
 the town severe. The fall of Caen gave Henry con- 
 trol over a large contiguous district, and many towns 
 sent their keys to him, with appeals to his mercy, 
 which were invariably regarded. Envoys now came 
 from Armagnac to solicit a peace ; but Henry refused 
 to listen to any terms less severe than those which he 
 had originally proposed. Kecovering himself promptly 
 from the effects of the siege of Caen, he resumed his 
 march, notwithstanding the near approach of the in- 
 clement season. From Caen he proceeded directly 
 westward, and took Bayeux without difficulty. Thence 
 he turned his face southward, and with equal ease 
 acquired the important towns of Argentau and Alen- 
 con, in the county of Orne He was now rapidly 
 effecting the occupation of lower Normandy. That 
 ]u' miglit engage the allegiance of the population, he 
 caused proclamation to be made that all who accepted 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 377 
 
 him as their King, should be protected in person and 
 property.* 
 
 "Whilst these successes were rewarding the King's 
 exertions in Normandy, the Scotch made a raid into 
 the northern counties of England, with a view, per- 
 haps, to aid their ally of France. Their army was 
 divided into two columns, one of which, commanded 
 by the redoubtable Douglas, threatened Berwick ; and 
 the other, under the Duke of Albany, regent of Scot- 
 land, marched against Roxburgh Castle. Young 
 Northumberland, now the fast friend of King Henry, 
 succeeded in putting Douglas to rout without great 
 effort. Bedford, Exeter, and the Archbishop of York,f 
 with a large army, attacked the column which threat- 
 ened Roxburgh, and were equally successful; the 
 Scotch being so badly defeated that they were fain to 
 disperse without an attempt to rally. The regent 
 Bedford caused retaliations to be made on the Scotch 
 border, and instituted a ruthless warfare, which con- 
 tinued several years. These events, although they re- 
 tarded the departure of the levies of men intended for 
 Henry, did not interrupt the vigor of the French 
 campaign. 
 
 The conquest of the lower counties of Normandy, 
 undertaken leisurely, occupied the King during the 
 winter and early spring. As the holy season of Lent 
 approached, Henry himself went to Bayeux to employ 
 the time in religious observances, whilst the army 
 
 * Michelet, a not too lenient critic of Henry's career, bears this testimony to 
 his policy in Normandy: " Henry V., with remarkable sagacity, secured order 
 there to the utmost of his power, and the continuance of labor and agriculture. 
 He enforced respect for women, children, churches, priests, and even false priests. 
 All who submitted were protected ; all who resisted were punished. There was 
 no lawless violence at the taking of the towns." . 
 
 t Henry Bowett, formerly Bishop of Bath ; a warlike prelate. 
 
378 HENKY THE FIFTH. 
 
 continued its career of unchecked victory. It was 
 now divided into two columns, one under the Duke 
 of Clarence, the other under the Duke of Gloucester. 
 Clarence made an active campaign to the south of 
 Caen, taking possession of Harcourt, Anville, and 
 Chambroise ; whilst Gloucester, advancing up the pe- 
 ninsula at the head of which is Cherbourg, succeeded 
 in conquering the western section of the province, 
 wanting only Cherbourg to complete its actual occu- 
 pation throughout. Thus much had been accomplished 
 when the termination of Lent enabled Henry once 
 more to turn his attention to the operations of the field. 
 That half of the army which was operating under 
 Gloucester was assigned to the siege of Cherbourg, which 
 both by nature and preparation was a formidable for- 
 tress, and its capture apparently so difficult as to dis. 
 courage the boldest strategist. "With the other half 
 Henry himself directed his march eastward, straight 
 toward the Seine, with the view of reducing Rouen, 
 the last French stronghold of importance in upper 
 Normandy, and one of the keys to the metropolis. It 
 is necessary to conclude each of these operations sepa- 
 rately, as they were simultaneous, and we will first 
 follow Gloucester in his difficult attempt to make the 
 conquest of Cherbourg, and open communications by 
 sea with England. 
 
 Cherbourg is situated on a peninsula, running into 
 the Channel on the northern coast of France. The 
 sea and a small river form its barriers on one side, a 
 flat and yielding soil of sand make it difficult of access 
 on the other. On the Channel side the English were 
 unable t<> d<> more than to anchor a blockading squad- 
 ron off the fortifications; their vessels were not fitted 
 for a water attack. The only method left for Glouces- 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 379 
 
 ter to pursue was to lay siege from the south ; and 
 this he adopted. Gloucester was an able and expe- 
 rienced general, intrepid, persevering, fertile in re- 
 source. Indeed, he possessed in a lesser degree many 
 of the martial qualities which so notably signalized 
 the exploits of his older brother, the King. He dis- 
 posed his forces, amounting to nearly twelve thousand, 
 before the town, and having shut out supplies by his 
 fleet, waited patiently till the brave garrison should, 
 in their despair, give up the fortress. The French, 
 during the siege, were almost invariably the assaulting 
 party. The English did little more than to withstand, 
 from time to time, the brave sallies of the garrison. 
 Once they were so near overcoming their besiegers, 
 that Gloucester was forced to send for reinforcements. 
 Accordingly Henry despatched two thousand men to 
 the assistance of his brother. After a siege of six 
 months the town fell into Gloucester's hands, and 
 with it lower Normandy passed under the control of 
 the King of England. 
 
 Meanwhile, splendid success had rewarded the valor 
 and pertinacity of the division which Henry commanded 
 in person. After celebrating with great pomp the fes- 
 tival of St. George of England at Caen, Henry marched 
 directly eastward toward the Seine, that he might 
 reduce Eouen, the only considerable town of Norman- 
 dy not yet fallen, and an important key to Paris. 
 The advance of the army was deliberate and well 
 ordered, and the communications were kept open to 
 the sea, so that the subsistence of the men might be 
 secure. The towns on the route fell without much 
 resistance. Poor enfeebled France, that trembled for 
 her very capital ! As the invading host approached 
 the river, they met with greater obstacles. At Pont 
 
380 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 (le l'Archo, and Louviers, the latter situated on the 
 lower bank of the Seine, opposition was made to the 
 progress, and a siege was necessary. Whilst the siege 
 of Louviers was proceeding, Cardinal des Ursins, one 
 of the most sagacious and excellent men of the time, 
 came to Henry's camp with a message from the Pope, 
 urging him to desist, and to conclude a peace with 
 France. At the same time came the Cardinal of St. 
 Mark from Paris, with a similar errand from Armag- 
 nac. Henry, without giving a positive answer, re- 
 solved within himself against the proposition, Des 
 Ursins hastened to Paris in the vain hope that the 
 Pope's wishes might be accomplished. Louviers hav- 
 ing fallen, the English columns crossed the Seine in 
 safety, marched deliberately northward, and on the 
 31st day of July, 1418, the rear battalions filed into 
 position, with the artillery, below the beautiful and 
 ancient town of Rouem The Duke of Exeter had 
 joined the army a few days before, with those rein- 
 forcements which had been temporarily devoted to the 
 Scotch invasion, and which having accomplished the 
 defeat of the northern army, had embarked without 
 delay for France. They numbered about ten thousand 
 men. Henry, thus strengthened, laid siege to Rouen 
 with confidence. Supplies by water were abundant, 
 and there was no reason to fear an attack upon his 
 rear, the French having enough to do to settle their 
 own animosities. 
 
 But, before proceeding to narrate the memorable 
 siege of Rouen, it is necessary to see what events had 
 been transpiring during the winter of 1417. and the 
 spring and summer of 141S, between the two French 
 iaclions, whose mutual virulence permitted the invader 
 to stride so boldly across their northern provinces. 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 381 
 
 The Duke of Burgundy made repeated efforts to 
 obtain possession of Paris. He distributed garrisons 
 throughout the provincial districts, and, with the re- 
 mainder of his force, posted himself at Montrouge. 
 Attempts on Paris were constantly made by every 
 artifice known to warfare, by strategy, by assault, by 
 isolation, by intrigue, by plots formed within the city 
 walls. For some time all such were unavailing. Grad- 
 ually Armagnac became weaker and weaker. His 
 garrison was reduced to three thousand men. It was 
 only with the greatest difficulty that food could be 
 procured for those who remained. His oppressions 
 made him hateful to the citizens. They called him a 
 " devil in a man's hide." Famine, disease, popular 
 disgust, a rapidly waning defence, stared the Consta- 
 ble in the face. At a moment so critical, Burgundy 
 sent an embassy offering peace. He counted saga- 
 ciously on the issue. The citizens, the King, the 
 Dauphin, the court, eagerly favored the proposition. 
 Armagnac alone was obdurate. He sent back an in- 
 sulting message, announced his determination to de- 
 fend Paris at all hazards, and put the city under a 
 ruthless surveillance. He knew that peace would 
 place the King in the Duke's power, and that such an 
 event would be the certain signal for his own ruin. 
 But his refusal to make peace strengthened Burgundy 
 greatly in the metropolis. His partisans swelled from 
 a cowed minority to a large and insolent majority. 
 The King, in his lucid intervals, murmured against the 
 Constable. The Dauphin was virtually a prisoner. 
 The Queen was a zealous ally of Burgundy, and was 
 in his camp. 
 
 A stratagem now turned the scale in favor of that 
 Prince. One LeClerc, a mechanic, had been beaten 
 
382 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 unjustly by an officer of Armagnac. His father was 
 the ]><>rter of the gate of St. Germain. The injured 
 man, one dark night, stole the keys from beneath his 
 sire's pillow while he slept, and, as had been arranged 
 by previous concert, opened St. Germain gate to a 
 party of Burgundy's soldiers. The Sire de L'Ee Adam 
 entered at the head of eight hundred horse. Once 
 within the walls he was joined by a multitude of 
 citizens, armed as chance had thrown implements in 
 their way. The panic which the surprise produced, 
 and the favorable disposition of the Parisians toward 
 Burgundy, made it not a difficult matter to gain com- 
 plete possession of the city. The King's person was 
 seized, and he was compelled to ride through the 
 streets at the head of the Burgundian troops. A gen- 
 eral massacre ensued, in which most of the Armagnac 
 leaders were assassinated ; besides multitudes of their 
 followers. Houses were burned, rifled, and torn down. 
 All the horrors of a popular collision were, of course, 
 enacted. Armagnac had timely notice of the surprise, 
 and hid himself in an obscure dwelling ; but he was 
 betrayed, delivered up, and cast into a prison cell. 
 Du Chatel, who had charge of the young Dauphin, 
 escaped with him to the Bastile, which was still held 
 by the Armagnacs. The next morning he effected his 
 escape beyond the city and found an asylum with his 
 precious ward at Melun, twenty-five miles south of 
 Paris. The Burgundian faction now had the complete 
 upper hand, and it may be imagined that they were 
 not more merciful to their enemies, the Annagnacs, 
 than these had been toward them. The massacre 
 would rage for a day or two, then cease for a while; 
 anon it would break out suddenly afresh, and bloody 
 scenes would fill the streets with xmspeakable horrors. 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 383 
 
 The King was a mere tool in the hands of the success- 
 ful party. Du Chatel made the attempt to deliver 
 Paris by taking L'lle Adam; but he was repulsed 
 with great loss and was forced to retire with precipita- 
 tion. The alarm produced by this endeavor was the 
 signal for another massacre, one more dreadful than 
 any which had occurred before. One Sunday night, 
 a tinman named Lambert went out into the mob and 
 harangued them in a loud and excited tone of voice, 
 urging them to kill all the Armagnac prisoners, who 
 would otherwise escape and retake Paris. The pop- 
 ulace, persuaded easily to bloody deeds, cried that they 
 would follow him. Lambert led them, over forty 
 thousand, against the Hotel de Ville, the Tour du 
 Palais, the prison of St. Eloi, the Grand Chatelet, St. 
 Martin, the Temple, and the Petit Chatelet succes- 
 sively. Some of the Burgundian nobles sought to 
 check their fury, but with no avail. Everywhere the 
 prisoners were brought from their cells only to be 
 ruthlessly butchered in cold blood. At one of the 
 prisons, each prisoner was felled with an axe as he 
 passed out of the gate. The slaughter was not con- 
 fined to the prisoners ; wherever in the streets an Ar- 
 magnac was found, he fell an instant victim to Burgun- 
 dian hatred. Houses suspected of concealing Armag- 
 nacs were searched, and their miserable occupants put 
 without question to the sword. 
 
 " The children in the streets," says Michelet, " play- 
 ed with the corpses. The bodies of the Constable and 
 others lay three days in the Palais, exposed to the 
 jeers of all who passed." Soon after this most atro- 
 cious affair, John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, and 
 Isabella of Bavaria, Queen of France, made a grand" 
 and ostentatious entrance into the city, which was yet 
 
384 IIENRY TIIE FIFTH. 
 
 bleeding from the dreadful conflicts which its streets 
 had witnessed in their behalf. As the inhuman tyrants 
 rode along, the poor people, hoping for better things, 
 greeted them with cheers and blessings, and at the 
 same time sued them with trembling voices for peace 
 and food. Burgundy made fair promises, and kept 
 them like himself. But, though he found himself pos- 
 sessed of Paris, the royal person, and the Queen's de- 
 votion, his situation was far from being a happy one. 
 Provisions could be got only with the greatest diffi- 
 culty. At Pont l'Arche the English under Henry 
 held the Seine; at Melun, below Paris, Du Chatel 
 held the Seine. At both ends supplies by the river 
 were thus cut off. To intensify beyond description 
 the sufferings of the wretched city, an epidemic broke 
 out and raged throughout its limits, destroying in a 
 short time at least fifty thousand people,* who endured 
 every agony which disease and hunger combined could 
 put upon them. 
 
 Meanwhile the Dauphin of France, advised by 
 Tanneguy du Chatel and President Louvet of Pro- 
 vence, declared himself Regent, and called upon the 
 provinces to sustain him against Burgundy and Henry. 
 He made several campaigns, and captured some towns 
 of importance, but did not meet with that decisive 
 success which gave a hope of recovering the royal 
 authority. This, briefly, was the state of affairs in 
 France when, on the last day of July, the columns of 
 the English army sat down before the battlements of 
 Rouen. 
 
 The destination of Henry's march had been long 
 foreseen ; and tin- citizens of Rouen, who were mostly 
 *>f the Burgundian party, had repeatedly called upon 
 
 * Michelet. 
 
HENET THE FIFTH. 385 
 
 the Duke to send them succors. He sent back about 
 four thousand horse — more, it would seem, than he 
 could well spare from the defence of the capital. Still 
 there was much complaint, and the people of Rouen 
 were despondent as they saw the bold and well-mar- 
 shalled battalions of Henry encamping below them. 
 Multitudes of the country gentlemen and rural pop- 
 ulation had x-esorted to Rouen laden with all their 
 effects, to escape the conqueror. There were about 
 fifteen thousand infantry in the garrison, besides the 
 cavalry which Burgundy had sent. Besides these, 
 there were nearly forty thousand non-combatants 
 within the walls. They had, therefore, to look for- 
 ward to all the miseries of a siege with a prospect of 
 neither receiving succors of men, nor installments of 
 food. 
 
 The King of England proceeded promptly to in- 
 vest the town. Dividing his forces into several corps, 
 he stationed them completely around Bouen, and 
 caused trenches to be dug, that there might be a pro- 
 tected communication along the whole line. An outer 
 bulwark of ditches, concealed by brier wood and 
 brush, made surprise from the rear impossible. Oppo- 
 site the several gates of the city lay the several corps, 
 constantly on the watch both for sallies of the garrison, 
 and for occasions to break over the walls. Humphrey 
 of Gloucester and Thomas of Clarence, the King's 
 brothers, commanded two of the corps ; the King in 
 person superintended the whole; the Earl of Cornwall, 
 Lord Constable, commanded a corps; Lort Dorset, 
 Lord High Admiral, another ; and the renowned Earl 
 of Warwick another. Bedford had remained in Eng- 
 land to administer the government. The isolation of 
 Bouen from all the rest of the world became complete. 
 
 25 
 
386 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 They had enough provisions to last them a long siege, 
 and notwithstanding the failure of Burgundy to suffi- 
 ciently relieve them, their intrepid spirits prompted 
 them to hold out to the very last. King Henry appreci- 
 ated this spirit, and accordingly made elaborate prep- 
 arations for a protracted blockade. The anticipations 
 of both besieger and besieged were surpassed by the 
 length of the siege. For seven long months Kouen 
 stoutly repelled the attempts of the hitherto unbaffled 
 English to enter at its gates or over its walls. 
 
 The diversity of Henry the Fifth's genius was 
 never more remarkably displayed than during the 
 progress of this attempt to reduce the capital of Nor- 
 mandy. At the same time that he was conducting the 
 military operations to that end, he was also organiz- 
 ing a civil administration in that large portion of Nor- 
 mandy which was already in his possession. His mind, 
 though perhaps most active as a commander, was like- 
 wise essentially statesmanlike, and sought by prudent 
 means to establish oi'derly government wherever he 
 had authority. He put forth every inducement to the 
 Normans to return to their domains, to acknowledge 
 him as their ruler, and to live quietly under his ad- 
 ministration. He refused to confiscate the property 
 of Normans to feed his own soldiers' greed of gain. 
 He instituted courts of justice, and a financial system, 
 both of which were far better than those they dis- 
 placed. The taxes imposed were light, the officers 
 lenient in the discharge of their duties. Before many 
 months, a well-working English system was in full 
 and prosperous operation, and great numbers of the 
 inhabitants, reassured both by the indications of mild 
 authority, and by the well-known magnanimity and 
 wisdom of Henry, returned to their former abodes, 
 
HENRY THE EIETH. 387 
 
 and resumed their avocations with content. They 
 found that the firm government of a powerful prince 
 was much more conducive to their prosperity than the 
 disputed authority which the rival factions of France, 
 as each gained the ascendency, exercised ; and were 
 not displeased to he relieved from the heavy taxes 
 which had recently been devoted only to the support 
 of a ruinous civil conflict. But not only did Henry 
 "busy himself with his new subjects ; he also found 
 time to exercise with assiduity the arts of diplomacy. 
 He visited London several times during the siege, and 
 whilst there took occasion to confer with his noble 
 prisoners Orleans and Bourbon, and to persuade them 
 to use their influence for the purpose of inducing Bur- 
 gundy to accede to his demands. He represented to 
 them that unless they made a movement in this 
 direction, much blood must flow, and much devas- 
 tation follow, and the issue would be far from doubt- 
 ful " I shall soon go," said he, " to Paris. It is 
 a pity ; your people are brave. They can, however, 
 do nothing. Where disunion is, courage is of little 
 avail." The unfortunate princes, terrified at the 
 King's success, and having small faith either in the 
 capacity of the French to resist him, or in the prospect 
 of a union between the rival factions, sent letters to 
 Burgundy, and besought him to make peace at all 
 hazards. They represented the King of England to 
 be irresistible ; and they considered every thing better 
 than the further destruction of life and property* 
 Henry did not rest satisfied with this. He opined 
 communication both Avith the Dauphin and with John 
 of Burgundy. He found some difficulty in approach- 
 ing Burgundy, as this prince was in present possession 
 
 * Rymer iv., P. 1, p. 191. 
 
388 HENRY TIIE FIFTH. 
 
 of the King, the capital, and the authority. The ef- 
 fort to gain over the Dauphin's party seemed at first 
 to meet with better success. In accordance with a 
 concert agreed upon, the Archbishop of Sens, on the 
 part of the young prince, repaired to Aleneon, where 
 he found the Earl of "Warwick, with powers to treat 
 on behalf of the King of England This was in Sep- 
 tember. The negotiations were conducted in the 
 French and Latin languages, and in each the docu- 
 ments were translated. The Archbishop opened the 
 conference by proposing to give up to Henry the 
 southern districts of Agenois, Perigueux, Limousin, 
 Khodez, Bigorre, Angouleme ; to acknowledge his pos- 
 session of Calais and Harfleur ; and to cede some por- 
 tions of Normandy. For these he was to retire from 
 French soil, and forever cease from cl aimi ng the 
 French crown. This proposition Warwick perempto- 
 rily rejected. The prelate then added to his first offer 
 a portion of Guienne, and all of upper Nomiandy 
 excepting Calais. It was now Warwick's turn to pro- 
 pose terms. He demanded Touraine, Anjou, Artois, 
 and Flanders ; and an alliance against John of Bur- 
 gundy. So destructive a concession the Archbishop 
 found it utterly impossible to make. The conference, 
 therefore, broke up without result. But before it had 
 risen, Henry had already opened negotiations on the 
 other hand with Burgundy at Paris. This attempt 
 was likewise futile, as it is probable the King was 
 willing it should be. lie demanded an alliance, 
 Guienne, Ponthieu, and a marriage with the Princess 
 Katharine with an exorbitant dower. Burgundy, 
 fearing that the acceptance of conditions so ignomin- 
 ious would l>e the ruin of his party, declined them. 
 IIcnry'H ohject in pursuing both these negotiations 
 
 «5 
 
HEintY THE FIFTH. 389 
 
 undoubtedly was to keep the two factions apart, and 
 prevent a union against himself. That he purposed 
 receiving any terms less than the French crown itself, 
 is by no means plausible. 
 
 The siege continued with unabated vigor. The 
 isolation of the town began to be felt cruelly in no 
 long time. Food was getting scarce. Sickness raged. 
 Worse than all, the doomed people were not united 
 among themselves. The lower classes suspected the 
 nobles of infidelity, and the civilians were ill-disposed 
 to submit to the dictation of the soldiers. The old 
 Armagnac and Burgundy spirit yet lived to distract 
 their councils, and embitter leaders who should have 
 been knit together with hooks of steel. On the occa- 
 sion of a sally upon the English, a bridge upon which 
 the assailants were to return to the town was found 
 broken down. Suspicion at once attached to Bouteil- 
 ler, the commandant. It was believed that he was in 
 league with Henry. When this was the opinion en- 
 tertained of the leader, what success could be expect- 
 ed ? Repeatedly couriers managed to get beyond the 
 besieging posts, and hastened to beg Burgundy for 
 succors. Burgundy gave specious promises, but no 
 succors came. The English were vigilant, energetic, 
 patient. They held their position with iron perti- 
 nacity. The most desperate essays moved them not 
 a foot. Famine began to stalk through the once beau- 
 tiful streets of Bouen. In their despair the wretched 
 multitude devoured dogs, cats, and horses — everything 
 that teeth could sever, and throat swallow, was greedily 
 consumed. It was at length determined that all who 
 could not assist to defend the town should be sent be- 
 yond the walls. Twelve thousand souls — the lame, the 
 halt, the blind, the decrepit, infants, women — sadly 
 
390 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 went out of the gates, and settled themselves in the 
 ditches between the walls of their city and the hostile 
 Columns, subsisting on weeds and herbs, cold, wet, 
 naked, starving. There the miserable crowd stayed, 
 those that lived through the cold, rainy winter. Many 
 died daily. It was a mournful colony, cast out by 
 their fiiends, held fast by their enemies. When 
 Christmas came Henry distributed food among them, 
 which for the moment gladdened their drooping 
 hearts. He offered also a feast to the citizens within, 
 in honor of the Nativity ; but the proud spirited Nor- 
 mans would take no gift from the hand of their foe. 
 To famine, within and without, were added all the 
 nameless horrors of epidemic, spreading loathsome dis- 
 ease through every street, and kindling, amid the uni- 
 versal desperation, every species of crime known to 
 the invention of mankind. Yet this people, divided 
 by distrust, starving, lawless, dying, maintained an 
 intrepidity nothing less than sublime. As often as 
 Henry demanded a surrender without conditions, there 
 was but one voice in reply — a prompt refusal to sub- 
 mit. Again and again the besieger paused until he 
 had tried to persuade a surrender. They besought 
 him to grant them conditions which would save per- 
 sons and property ; but the King, though inclined to 
 mercy, knew that such conditions would be fatal to 
 his purpose. The Duke of Burgundy tardily set about 
 raising an expedition to relieve the beleaguered city. 
 He brought the King to the Cathedral of St. Denis, 
 and there, with mournful pomp, the Oriflamme was 
 unfurled before the people. But the Duke lingered, 
 and seemed little inclined to prosecute vigorous meas- 
 ures. A messenger came from Ivouen and told him 
 that fifty thousand persons had perished there. The 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 391 
 
 traitorous prince did not heed even this, but, after a 
 show of preparation, entirely abandoned the idea of 
 proceeding to Normandy, and employed himself in 
 strengthening his influence at court against the 
 Dauphin. 
 
 "When the besieged found that they were to be left 
 to their own resources, they resolved to make one des- 
 perate effort, not to retain the fortress, but to escape 
 from the clutches of the enemy. A plan was formed 
 to undermine the walls in such a manner that a pas- 
 sage out should be made for the whole garrison. 
 "When they reached the ditches in a compact body, 
 they were to rush headlong upon the English encamp- 
 ment, and cut their way through as best they might. 
 But the project reached the ears of King Henry before 
 it was brought to its accomplishment. He took effect- 
 ual measures to guard against any such surprise ; 
 which, when the besieged perceived it, drove them ut- 
 terly to despair. At last, after having been blockaded 
 for nearly six months, human endurance and courage 
 could no longer hold out. They agreed to capitulate 
 on the nineteenth of January, 1419, at the mercy of 
 the victor ; and begged him to name the most merciful 
 terms possible. Henry answered them that he would 
 make three stipulations. First, he would save all 
 their lives except those of five persons of consequence 
 whom they should deliver up to be dealt with ac- 
 cording to his judgment. Secondly, the town should 
 retain its ancient privileges, under him as King of 
 France. Thirdly, the town was to pay into the Eng- 
 lish exchequer a fine of three hundred thousand 
 crowns. The only person executed was Allan Blanche 
 the leader of the popular party. The other hostages 
 were let free upon payment of ransoms. Bouteiller 
 
392 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 the military commandant, swore allegiance, and offer- 
 ed his service to Henry as tlie rightful sovereign of 
 France. The town capitulated on the conditions pro- 
 posed, and an English battalion entered and took pos- 
 session. Proclamations were issued that none should 
 be permitted to depart until Henry had established 
 order, and arranged somewhat of systematic govern- 
 ment over the inhabitants. 
 
 Henry entered Rouen at the head of his main army, 
 with great pomp and magnificence. Proceeding at 
 once to the stately and beautiful cathedral, he heard 
 a high mass, and, kneeling below the altar, himself 
 offered prayers of thanksgiving for his success. He 
 then called a council of his wisest followers, and "ivith 
 commendable energy put himself to the task of re- 
 organizing the political status of the captured capital 
 of Normandy. The measures which he uniformly 
 pursued were wise and sagacious. He sought to at- 
 tract to himself the love and confidence of the subju- 
 gated people, not so much by force, as by exercising 
 an unexpected moderation, and taking steps to secure 
 a speedy return of prosperity. After the fall of Eouen, 
 no depredations were allowed in the city ; every thing 
 was put under the protection of the provost's police. 
 The persons and property of private citizens were re- 
 spected, courts were established, and regulations made 
 for the resumption of trade and manufacture. Many 
 people came over from England and took up their 
 abode in Rouen. Henry resolved to delay the further 
 prosecution of his campaign until his army should be 
 recuperated, a new levy made, money raised to pay 
 oil' the debt already incurred, aud sufficient supplies 
 gathered together. Besides, he wished to exercise a 
 personal supervision over the reconstruction, under an 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 393 
 
 English government, of the important province which 
 was now wholly reduced to his possession. For with 
 Rouen fell, as of necessity, the remaining lesser towns 
 of upper Normandy. Fecamp, Caudebec, Mantes, and 
 forty others, received English garrisons without re- 
 sistance. 
 
 The conqueror, after a long, deliberate, and well- 
 ordered campaign, had now obtained a most formida- 
 ble foothold upon the French domain. The most im- 
 portant northern province was his; communication 
 was easy with England ; his anny was but little re- 
 duced ; his project continued to be popular with his 
 subjects; his military and constructive genius had been 
 proven beyond a doubt ; the factions in France still 
 raged with increasing bitterness ; and now the osten- 
 sible object of the King of England's ambition — the 
 capture of the French metropolis — seemed almost in 
 his grasp. Both the Dauphin and Burgundy, when 
 they heard that Rouen had surrendered, were greatly 
 alarmed. They saw that there began to be some dan- 
 ger that both Armagnac and Burgundian would be 
 overwhelmed by the common foe. But even in so 
 terrible a dilemma, neither party acted the part of 
 true lovers of their country. It was obvious, that to 
 save France, France must be a unit. The plain course 
 was for the Dauphin and the Duke to forget, for the 
 while at least, their past injuries, and combine their 
 now confronting arms against the foreign invader. 
 But no motion seems to have been made with this 
 view from either side. On the contrary, both made 
 all haste to seek an alliance with that very foe whom 
 they should have combined to resist. 
 
 The Dauphin's envoys reached the King first, and 
 sought to form an alliance for the destruction of Bur- 
 
3!) 4 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 gundy. Henry tohl them that, if they would cede to 
 England his late conquests, and the absolute sov- 
 ereignty over Guienne, Poitou, Calais, Guisnes, and 
 Ponthieu, he -would renounce his claim to the French 
 crown, assist the Dauphin to recover the royal power, 
 and retire with his army to his own dominions ; and 
 at the same time he expressed a wish to hold an inter- 
 view with the young prince. A meeting was appointed 
 at Dreux ; but when the envoys reported to the Dau- 
 phin the King's proposals, he refused to entertain 
 them, and stayed away from the place of rendezvous. 
 Then it was Burgundy's turn to negotiate, and he 
 made at first greater progress with Henry than had 
 his rival. In accordance with his desire Henry de- 
 spatched some envoys to Provins, where the lunatic 
 King was holding a dreary court, under the dictation 
 of John the Fearless. Some of the Dauphin's men 
 set upon the embassy in its progress, b\it were soon 
 routed by their Burgundian escort. It was arranged 
 that there should be a personal interview between the 
 King of England and his councillors on the one side, 
 and Burgundy, accompanied by Queen Isabella and 
 the young Princess, on the other, that there might be 
 a full discussion of proposals, and, if possible, that a 
 treaty, satisfactory to the ambition of the one and the 
 hatred of the other, should be ratified by the imme- 
 diate sanction of the principals. A large field on the 
 borders of the Seine, near the walls of Melun, was 
 chosen as the spot where the meeting should take 
 place. Such was the dignity of the negotiators, that 
 liberal preparations were made that the spectacle 
 Hlmuhl be an imposing and stately one. Large tents 
 were erected at either end of the field, and between 
 them a magnificent pavilion was "built, with two wings 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 395 
 
 which served as corridors, to which each party, might 
 retire. This was done at the expense of the Queen 
 Isabella. 
 
 On the thirtieth of May, 1419, the meeting took 
 place. The King of France, by reason of a severe attack 
 of his malady, was left in the care of his physicians and 
 a guard at Ponthoise, not far distant. The Duke of 
 Burgundy, with Queen Isabella and the Princess Kath- 
 arine, and attended by a large guard of honor under 
 the Count de St. Pol, arrived in due season as the 
 representatives of France. Henry was equally prompt ; 
 and an equally numerous escort surrounded him. 
 With him were the two royal Dukes of Clarence and 
 Gloucester, Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, 
 the venerable Duke of Exeter, the young Earl of 
 March, the Earl of Salisbury, and other noblemen, 
 together with many councillors and ecclesiastics. 
 
 The French tent is described by one of the chron- 
 iclers as " a fair pavilion of blue velvet, richly em- 
 broidered with flews-de-lis ; on the top was the figure 
 of a flying hart, in silver, with wings enamelled." 
 
 The tent of the King of England was of alternate 
 blue and green velvet, and upon it were worked two 
 antelopes ; one drawing in a mill, the other seated on 
 high with a branch of olive in his mouth. The motto 
 displayed on the tent was, " After busy labor comes 
 victorious rest." At the top of the. tent rested a 
 golden eagle, whose eyes were two diamonds. Bar- 
 riers were placed on either side of the central pavilion, 
 within which none were to enter but the highest dig- 
 nitaries. The guard were to be drawn up between 
 the barriers and the tents on either side. 
 
 At three o'clock on the afternoon of May thirtieth 
 both parties proceeded in state to the barriers, and 
 
396 IIENKY THE FIFTH. 
 
 entered the pavilion. King Henry advanced to Isa- 
 bella with a profound obeisance, and saluted her. 
 Then he turned to the Princess, and saluted her like- 
 wise. This ceremony was repeated by Clarence and 
 Gloucester. The King then took her Majesty by the 
 hand, and led her to a seat of cloth of gold, within the 
 pavilion. He took for himself a chair opposite. Bur- 
 gundy made a few compliments, to which Henry re- 
 sponded in a gracious manner. Lord Warwick, whom 
 Henry always depended upon as his principal diplo- 
 matist, addressed the Queen in a short and pithy 
 speech, barely touching upon the subject which brought 
 about the interview, and seeking to create in her mind 
 a favorable disposition toward Henry. Little more 
 was said or done upon that day, and after a short 
 delay the noble parties separated, the French retiring 
 to Ponthoise, and the English to Mantes. Neverthe- 
 less, it was a day for King Henry the Fifth to remem- 
 ber. For the first time he had looked upon the 
 beautiful countenance and exquisite figure of Katha- 
 rine of Valois. He had heard ravishing descriptions 
 of her manifold charms, and his curiosity had been 
 aroused by the unanimity with which all who had 
 seen her sung her praises. 
 
 Katharine of Valois, who was destined, like her 
 sister Isabella, to wear the English crown, was, at the 
 time she first beheld her future lord, eighteen years 
 of age. Henry was thirty-two. She was the young- 
 est child of King Charles the Sixth (who had twelve 
 children), and was born in the Hotel St. Pol, then the 
 favorite royal residence, in 1401. There, amid the 
 privations which followed the mental aberrations of 
 her father and (lie rivalries of the court, was the 
 young Princess brought up, with little of that luxury 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 397 
 
 which usually attended the education of royal fami- 
 lies.. " The children," say the chroniclers, " were in a 
 piteous state, nearly starved, and loathsome with dirt, 
 having no change of clothes, or even of linen." They 
 were so totally abandoned by their unnatural mother, 
 that they were forced to seek food from the humblest 
 of their hirelings. When Isabella fled to Milan on 
 Charles's temporary restoration to reason, the poor 
 little Princess had a short interval of comfort, under 
 the hospitable auspices of the Duke of Milan. As 
 Katharine grew older, however, more attention was 
 paid to her culture; the Queen, seeing her grow 
 more handsome and vivacious as the years went on, 
 took a selfish pride in improving her, and seemed to 
 entertain for her alone, of all the children, something 
 approaching to maternal love. It is probable that, 
 as soon as Henry indicated a desire for an alliance 
 with her, an ambition had sprung up in Katharine's 
 mind to accede to it, and that Isabella had encouraged 
 the feeling as she had occasion. Certain it is that the 
 attraction, when they came into each other's presence, 
 was mutual. 
 
 Katharine, in her eighteenth year, is described as 
 having been one of the most beautiful of women. Her 
 face was oval-shaped * her complexion soft and fair, 
 her mouth small and exquisitely cut, and her eyes dark 
 and lustrous. Were it not that her chin was too short 
 her beauty would have been faultless. Her counte- 
 nance was placid and her expression sweet and gentle. 
 Her figure was slight, its contour most graceful. In 
 her mien there was a calm dignity, which, allied to a 
 sincere and womanly modesty, charmed the knightly 
 monarch, who saw in her, at first sight, the object of 
 
 * Guillaume de Gruel. 
 
398 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 his love. But Katharine was also a woman of spirit 
 and ambition, and had no little piquancy and coquetry 
 in her composition. It may be imagined that she was 
 quickly susceptible to the right royal bearing of the 
 King of England, who indeed united every manly 
 quality and circumstance which attracts the love of 
 woman — a handsome and noble person, cordial cour- 
 tesy of bearing, kindness and affectionateness of heart, 
 chivalrous intrepidity, a world-wide fame, a proud 
 and powerful crown. 
 
 Monstrelet, who saw the charming couple, says : 
 " The Princess was very handsome, and had most en- 
 gaging manners, and it was plainly to be seen that 
 King Henry was desperately in love with her." She 
 was arrayed in a long gown, over which fell a mantle 
 of ermine; in front was a stripe of ermine, decked 
 with jewels ; and upon her head glittered the arched 
 coronet, which the children of French kings were 
 entitled to assume. Henry's heart had never been 
 touched before. Many a princess had followed him 
 with loving eyes, and many a noble dame had passion- 
 ately adored the beautiful young warrior-King. But 
 he had passed unscathed to his thirty-second year, to 
 find himself at last vanquished at a glance. Of the 
 sincerity and ardor of his passion there can be no 
 doubt. There were many indications seen by his own 
 courtiers which convinced them that it could not have 
 been simulated for selfish purposes. Every symptom 
 of the true malady displayed itself. He was restless, 
 anxious to see Katharine again and again, slept badly, 
 was impatient, and when in her presence was subdued 
 and overcome. In this the first conference, whilst 
 "Warwick was addressing Isabella, Henry kept his 
 eyes riveted upon the fail- daughter, sitting the whole 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 399 
 
 time in the same posture, and to appearance quite lost 
 to every other object. When he parted from her, it 
 was with such a tender and respectful obeisance as 
 must have deeply touched her susceptible heart. 
 
 Isabella saw Katharine's conquest with exultation. 
 She hoped that Henry would be inclined to yield some- 
 what of his demands in the warmth of his affection. 
 With more than prudent alacrity she encouraged the 
 King in his new sentiment, and was so incautious as 
 to observe to him, with a smile, that the Princess had 
 made a conquest over a warrior always before invinci- 
 ble. Henry at once detected the schemes of the cun- 
 ning matchmaker. His passions, however strong, had 
 long been schooled to yield to his intellect ; and he 
 allowed no emotion to obliterate for a moment from 
 his mind the demands of his policy and his design. 
 He disappointed Isabella by adhering pertinaciously 
 to his original propositions, at the same time that he 
 ingenuously expressed an affectionate interest in the 
 Princess Katharine. He was foresighted enough to 
 perceive that his chances of success with her would be 
 by no means lessened by claiming all he had origi- 
 nally done. He knew that the victorious advance of 
 his arms, even if the present convention proved of no 
 avail, would make it not only advantageous, but a ne- 
 cessity to France, that he should wed her. 
 
 The conference continued day after day through 
 the month of June, the Queen all the time cherishing 
 the hope that Henry, subdued by the charms of Kath- 
 arine, would moderate his terms. But the King was 
 too astute a statesman to be the dupe of a woman's 
 chicanery. He saw the game, and, although he cer- 
 tainly looked upon the Princess as a most tempting 
 prize, turned a deaf ear to the less stringent propo- 
 
400 IIENKT THE FIFTH. 
 
 sals which Burgundy urged upon him. His demands 
 were, from the first, a marriage with Katharine, and 
 Guienne and Normandy as her dower ; Brittany, Maine, 
 Anjou, and Touraine. To these he held obstinately 
 throughout. Toward the last he d iscovered, to his great 
 chagrin, that Burgundy was playiDg a double game, 
 and that he had been all the while busily negotiating 
 with the Dauphin's party. He heard a report that the 
 Duke had even held a consultation with Prince Charles 
 and Du Chatel at Paris. The King was ill-inclined to 
 sit patiently under such duplicity, and to be the victim 
 also of Isabella's schemes. He became more obstinate 
 than ever. He now declared that he would not give 
 up his claim to the French crown. He tasked Bur- 
 gundy with his duplicity. Burgundy replied to him 
 with asperity. " Cousin," said the King, " know that 
 we will have your King's daughter, and the rest too, or 
 that we will put both you and him out of France.' 1 * 
 " Sire," angrily replied the Duke, " you are pleased to 
 say so ; but, before you can do so, I make no doubt 
 that you will be heartily tired." With such language 
 the princes separated. Another conference was ap- 
 pointed for a few days after ; but when Henry pre- 
 sented himself at Melun, he found no one to receive 
 him, and soon afterward he learned that the French 
 court had departed from Ponthoise. 
 
 Seven days subsequently, Burgundy and the chiefs 
 of the Dauphin's party met at Melun. It needed only 
 a brief consultation to decide upon what action to 
 take. The only course left for either party to pursue 
 was apparent. A league, offensive and defensive, was 
 entered into; all animosities between the factions 
 were to cease ; the garrisons were to be withdrawn 
 
 * Monstvclct, iv., 157. 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 401 
 
 from all the towns held by either prince, and others, 
 instituted under the alliance, placed in their stead ; the 
 royal power was to be administered conjointly by the 
 King and the Dauphin ; the succession was settled on 
 the Dauphin ; an entire junction of the French troops 
 was to be made, with the view of driving the Eng- 
 lish from French soil. This convention proved that 
 Henry's suspicion of Burgundy's duplicity was just. 
 That the crafty Duke was acting with equal hypocrisy 
 toward the Dauphin, cannot be doubted ; and that it 
 was reciprocated, events which are to be narrated will 
 prove. The treaty was solemnly ratified upon parch- 
 ment ; the rival princes gave thanks together in the 
 church of St. Martin des Champs ; and orders were 
 issued for massing the troops on both sides without 
 delay. The French nation were rejoiced at what 
 seemed to be a cessation of internal conflict ; they came 
 promptly forward at the summons to defend their 
 land against the invader. 
 
 Henry's position was one, indeed, which might 
 well alarm a less dauntless spirit. That catastrophe 
 which he had so long dreaded, and which he had so 
 strenuously and hitherto successfully striven to avert — 
 the union of the factions — had at last been consum- 
 mated. True, he held firm military possession of Nor- 
 mandy. But it was impossible to shut his eyes -to the 
 fact, that the Norman population still remained, as a 
 whole, hostile to him. He had made wise endeavors 
 to inaugurate such a reasonable civil administration 
 as would command their respect, and their faithful 
 obedience; and for a time, whilst there was hatred 
 between the French princes, this course had been suc- 
 cessful. Now, however, the prospect of a once more 
 united realm appealed to every patriotic sentiment in 
 26 
 
402 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 the Norman breast. They could bear the rule of a 
 foreign conqueror, whilst in fear of domestic tyranny 
 and ruin ; with the j)rospect of a royal power regen- 
 erated, there returned to this haughty and intrepid 
 race their old affection for the injured house of Valois. 
 When the news of the treaty of Melun reached the 
 •Norman towns, symptoms straightway appeared of 
 great discontent of Henry's government. A conspir- 
 acy to restore Eouen to French control was checked 
 at its ripeness by the treachery of Bouteiller. The 
 rural population became sullen and obstinate ; the 
 King's guard had a ceaseless labor in dispersing sus- 
 picious crowds and nightly assemblages. It therefore 
 soon became apparent that Henry, far from counting 
 on the -support of the subject race, should expect 
 them to be arrayed as one man against him. To the em- 
 barrassments with which a united French army and a 
 bitterly hostile population threatened him, was added 
 the great difficulty with which he procured assistance 
 from home. The English people began to be a little sick 
 of the war, which to their eyes had not met with ex- 
 pected success ; and they were tardy in bringing their 
 wonted support to the aid of their sovereign. Again 
 and again he appealed to Bedford to send him troops, 
 provision, and equipments. The reply was that the 
 nation was apparently well-nigh exhausted. At the 
 same time he heard that Scotch succors had been de- 
 spatched to France, to join that army which was rapid- 
 ly gathering together to crush him. 
 
 But these accumulating clouds did not cast a mo- 
 mentary shadow over his hopeful and energetic soul. 
 He never despaired. Self-confident, having implicit 
 faith in the discipline and valor of his anny, and keep- 
 ing in view the noble prize which awaited the fruition 
 
HENBY THE FIFTH. 403 
 
 of Ms ambition, he set about averting the calamity 
 which seemed to "be approaching. To sit still was to 
 let the anaconda twine around him and strangle him. 
 He resolved to anticipate the French arms by offensive 
 operations. 
 
 After another short and utterly futile negotiation 
 with Burgundy, during which he found opportunity 
 to make love to the Princess Katharine by tender mes- 
 sages and costly presents, he set out on the 29th of 
 July from Mantes with a large portion of his forces, 
 crossed the river, and advanced by a forced march on 
 Ponthoise. The Lord L'He Adam, who commanded 
 this fortification, not being informed of Henry's ap- 
 proach, was taken completely by surprise, and capitu- 
 lated without a struggle. Ponthoise was only twenty 
 miles from the metropolis, and was important as a 
 military station, particularly as a point whence to 
 operate against Paris. 
 
 No sooner had Henry found himself in so excellent 
 a position, than, calling reinforcements from the north, 
 he sent Clarence forward with the cavalry. Clarence 
 was a bold and dashing general, brave as a lion, and 
 ardently fond of dangerous adventure. At the head 
 of a troop of horse he scoured the country round 
 about, ravaging everywhere, and came up under the 
 very walls of Paris. There, such was the general con- 
 sternation and amazement, he tarried without moles- 
 tation for two days. Thence retiring to Gisors, he 
 easily took that place, and rested his corps, until he 
 received further orders from the King. Burgundy, 
 thoroughly terrified by the brilliant audacity of the 
 English, retired hastily from the capital, followed by 
 King Charles and the court, and repaired to Troyes, a 
 great way off, having made no provision for the safety 
 
404 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 of the city. Meanwhile the Dauphin, who was more 
 actively hostile to the English than Burgundy, had 
 been on an expedition to the north, and had retaken 
 from the English the towns of Avranches and Pon- 
 torson. 
 
 Henry took up his headquarters at Trie le Chastel, 
 near Gisors, and almost within sight of that goal of his 
 highest hopes, Paris. He was cautious, and watched 
 carefully the course of events. He did not permit his 
 success to unbalance him, but preserved always a 
 moderation of word and action which contributed as 
 much to his success as his conspicuous valor. 
 
 An event now occurred, which showed how wise 
 Henry's deliberation had been, and which opened to 
 him the brightest prospect of victory which had yet 
 transpired. Those mighty combinations which had so 
 lately threatened to annihilate him, were destined 
 once more to melt away before the angry fires of a 
 hatred which had been hidden, not quenched. 
 
 A plot most treacherous and dastardly was matur- 
 ing, the consummation of which revived the internal 
 feud with an intensity exceeding all past experience. 
 It is impossible to imagine such infamy in brave men, 
 as that which characterized the action of the party of 
 the Dauphin. Notwithstanding the reconciliation at 
 Melun, the concert between the rivals had been con- 
 strained, and their plans inharmonious. Altercations 
 had arisen almost iimnediately after the treaty Lad 
 been ratified. The old feeling evidently yet lived in 
 their breasts. The Dauphin had been educated to 
 hate John the Fearless; John the Fearless feared the 
 growing abilities and the hereditary power of the 
 Dauphin. Whilst the Dauphin had achieved a partial 
 milituiy success, Burgundy had engaged, even when 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 405 
 
 Henry was almost thundering at the gates of Paris, 
 in intrigues to secure to himself the preponderant civil 
 authority. 
 
 This conduct led to sharp recriminations, which well- 
 nigh resulted in an open quarrel. The leaders and ad- 
 visers of the young Prince — Macon, his Chancellor, Lou- 
 vet, President of Provence, Tanneguy du Chatel — seem- 
 ed determined to lacerate the old wounds, yet "but poorly 
 healed. Their active brains formed a plot which would 
 at least rid them forever of the detested Burgundy. 
 With a view to its execution, they urged the Dauphin 
 to demand another interview, that the growing differ- 
 ences might be settled before it was too late.. An 
 embassy was despatched to Burgundy at Troyes, and 
 the subject opened to him. Du Chatel, perhaps 
 his most implacable enemy, conducted the negotiation. 
 It was found a difficult matter to persuade the Duke 
 to consent to an interview. He mistrusted the Dau- 
 phin, Du Chatel, and all their party. Many of his 
 counsellors endeavored to confirm his reluctance, and 
 dissuaded him by urging the past bad faith of the 
 Orleanists, But Burgundy saw that, unless he com- 
 plied, all France would accuse him of being the author 
 of its ruin. He proceeded with his guards as far as 
 Bray-sur-Seine. The Dauphin and his partisans were 
 at Montereau-faut-Yonne, between Troyes and Paris, 
 at the junction of the Yonne with the Seine. When 
 Burgundy reached Bray, he hesitated to go on, and 
 sent a message that he would await the Prince where 
 he was. 
 
 There happened to be with Burgundy a favorite 
 mistress of his, by name the Baroness de Giac. Her 
 influence with the Duke was great, for she was appar- 
 ently almost the only being on earth whom he loved. 
 
406 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 She was a very busy politician, and took a deep inter- 
 est in the*, events which were passing around her. It 
 is probable that she loved to share the Duke's power 
 rather than his affections, for, as will be seen, her ad- 
 vice was fatal to him. To the persuasions of the 
 Dauphin's messengers, that he should join him at 
 Montereau, this artful woman added her own. The 
 Bishop of Valence, also, influenced by his brother the 
 Bishop of Langres, who was a partisan of the Dauphin, 
 urged the Duke to proceed without fear of treachery. 
 The united entreaties of the envoys, Madame de Giac, 
 and the prelate, finally overcame Burgundy's reluc- 
 tance. A Jew predicted to him that if he went hence, 
 he would never return; but Burgundy was bravo, 
 and not superstitious. Madame de Giac, who seemed 
 really anxious to cement the strength of France against 
 Henry, assured her lover that he had no danger to 
 apprehend; and when he yielded to her counsel, she 
 kept constantly by him until he reached Montereau. 
 
 It is probable that the Dauphin and his lieutenants 
 awaited the arrival of the Duke with totally different 
 emotions. Lou vet and Du Chatel longed for the ap- 
 proach of a victim ; Prince Charles dreaded the coming 
 of a deadly foe. Upon the bridge which spanned the 
 Yonne, was erected a gallery, narrow, with two outer 
 barriers, and having no barrier, as there usuallv was, 
 in the centre. The castle of Montereau was put at 
 the Duke's disposal. When he was a few miles dis- 
 tant from the spot, some of his guard, who had gone 
 on before, returned in haste to report the unusual 
 nature of the gallery which had been sot up. Those 
 who had all along been unwilling that the Duke 
 should proceed, now became again loud in their re- 
 . monstrances that he should advance no further. But 
 
HENKY THE EUTH. 407 
 
 Madame de Giac was equally persistent, and by her 
 earnest pleadings Burgundy became resolved. Fear 
 had no place in that warrior soul, and his lion-like 
 bravery half redeems his fame. He went straight to 
 the castle, arranged his guards around the battlements, 
 and entered with the lady and his chief advisers. 
 
 When they on the other side learned his arrival, 
 Du Chatel went over with a guard, and, coming into 
 his presence, informed him that his Royal Highness 
 awaited him on the bridge. Burgundy promptly 
 donned his helmet, and buckled on his sword, picked out 
 ten of his body-guard, and, accompanied by them and 
 the Sire de Noailles, descended to the fatal bridge. 
 At its entrance some messengers came hurrying up 
 to him, and urged him forward, as the Dauphin, they 
 said, had already been kept waiting. This gave him 
 some suspicion, and, turning to his companions, he 
 said : " Keep close by me, my friends." As soon as 
 the party had entered the barrier, a sentinel swung it 
 to, and locked it. Du Chatel here met the Duke, who, 
 that he might make treason more hateful, if treason 
 there Was, putting his hand upon Du Chatel's shoulder, 
 exclaimed aloud : " Here he is in whom I put my 
 trust ! " The Dauphin, to his surprise, remained stand- 
 ing beyond the barrier, instead of entering as he him- 
 self had done. He approached the Prince, who in full 
 armor was leaning upon the barrier, knelt down and 
 saluted him, and began to speak moderately to him. 
 The Prince broke in upon him with angry words and 
 charged him insultingly with all the misfortunes of 
 France. In the midst of the altercation, a knight 
 named Loire shouted out derisively to Burgundy : 
 " Eise from that posture, monseigneur, so unbecoming 
 'to so great a Prince ! " It flashed upon John the Fear- 
 
408 HENBY THE FIFTH. 
 
 less that this insolence foreboded treason. Rising 
 hastily to his feet, he put his hand upon the hilt of 
 his sword. " What ! " shouted the knight, " do you 
 draw in the presence of his Highness \ " 
 
 Du Chatel instantly came forward, and cried, " It 
 is time ; " at the same moment he lifted his battle-axe, 
 and struck the betrayed Duke upon the face. The 
 victim fell, his chin severed from his jaw ; but, with 
 that pertinacity which ever marked him, rose instantly 
 to his feet. His assassins were upon him in a mo- 
 ment ; the blows came upon him from every side ; he 
 reeled, and fell dead, without a word, at the Prince's 
 feet. The brave Noailles made a stout resistance, but 
 he, too, soon lay by his master's side, slain by innu- 
 merable wounds. The Dauphin, who had probably 
 been ignorant of the plot, hurried in alarm from the 
 bloody scene, and retired with all haste to his lodgings, 
 accompanied by his suite. Thus infamously was John 
 the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, murdered ; an able, 
 wicked, valorous, and restless prince, whose career had 
 been one of unceasing commotion, and who had filled 
 a most important place in the great and bloody drania 
 of his age. 
 
 It was a short-sighted policy which suggested this 
 atrocious transaction. The Duke of Burgundy's party 
 had been decidedly on the wane, and he was growing 
 daily more and more unpopular with the people. The 
 Orleanists might look with confidence to an early day 
 when, by general consent, they would again become 
 all powerful in the State. But the murder of John 
 the Fearless brought on a terrible reaction. Philip, 
 the new Duke, surnamed the Good, found himself in- 
 stantly at the head of a numerous, powerful, and 
 indignant party. Many noblemen who had been 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 409 
 
 Orleanists were stocked at the deed, and became 
 Burgundians to the core. A similar feeling spread 
 throughout France; and the assassins had the poor 
 satisfaction of seeing arrayed against them an active 
 and revengeful majority, instead of a hated and dwin- 
 dling faction. There was now a wide gulf between 
 the two factions, which it was impossible for either to 
 pass. There could be no such thing as a restoration 
 of even apparent harmony. The Burgundian could 
 never fight side by side with the murderers of his 
 father. Patriots could not join the standards of those 
 whose act had divided France forever. It was no pal- 
 liation that the Dauphin had neither authorized nor 
 known the plot ; he was the tool of those who had 
 been its authors and executioners. Therefore, in the 
 presence of a victorious foreigner, whose proud 
 foot approached unmolested the very capital, it was 
 once more war to the knife between Orleans and Bur- 
 gundy. The country was soon in a state of the great- 
 est excitement and consternation. Both parties issued 
 proclamations, giving a narrative of the transaction, 
 of which that of Philip was almost universally credited, 
 and that of Du Chatel torn and thrown to the winds. 
 The Dauphin was accused on every hand with com- 
 plicity, if not with the authorship of the plot. In 
 Paris, where, despite his crimes, the murdered Duke had 
 lately been most popular, the indignation against the 
 Dauphin passed all bounds. The city rose almost to 
 a man and declared for Philip. Their rage rejected 
 all reason and moderation, and the harsh cry was for 
 the blood of the assassins. Parliament was not back- 
 ward in the demonstration. They sent their Presi- 
 dent, Morvilliers, to Philip, to entreat him to assume 
 the government, and to bring the murderers to instant 
 
410 HENRY TIIE FIFTH. 
 
 justice; and they tendered their cordial devotion. 
 Queen Isabella equalled the most insane of the pop- 
 ulace in her rage and thirst for vengeance against her 
 own son. She cooperated with enthusiasm with Philip 
 in all his measures. The latter quickly joined the 
 court at Troyes, and assumed in all respects the dig- 
 nity and influence of his father. 
 
 It now became evident that Henry the Fifth could 
 negotiate with either party at pleasure. No possible 
 chance remaining that France would become again 
 united, either faction, to strengthen itself against the 
 other, was ready to join arms and purpose with the 
 hostile stranger. In such a situation, it was not likely 
 that Henry would make his claims any more moderate 
 than those which he had formerly advanced. Conscious 
 that he should be able to obtain very nearly the terms 
 he asked for, and keeping his attention steadily fixed 
 upon the crown of France itself, he began to weigh in 
 his mind which party would be of most service to 
 him. A very brief consideration convinced him that 
 it was by all means his policy to use the superior 
 power and popularity of Philip and Isabella. Over- 
 tures were accordingly made through "Warwick to the 
 court at Troyes. Philip avowed himself willing to 
 enter into a treaty with the King of England. A 
 preliminary negotiation between Warwick and Bur- 
 gundy occupied the months of October and Novem- 
 ber, 1419, in which each article was discussed, and 
 received the deliberate judgment of both sides. The 
 propositions which came from Henry were, as may be 
 imagined, most humiliating to France ; but there 
 burned in Philip's breast a passion which consumed 
 every other — the passion to revenge his father's death. 
 Undeterred by any emotion of patriotism or any pride 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 411 
 
 of nation, iron-hearted against the appeals of his coun- 
 trymen, mindful only of that dread purpose to which 
 lie regarded his life as consecrated, he gave his assent, 
 and, in the King's name, the royal assent, to the most 
 disgraceful treaty, perhaps, ever concluded upon French 
 soil. On the second of December, Burgundy and 
 Warwick met at Arras, north of Troyes, on the river 
 Aube. They there, on behalf of their respective sover- 
 eigns, put their signature to that celebrated instru- 
 ment known as the Treaty of Arras, and the articles 
 of which embraced the following stipulations. First: 
 a marriage was contracted between King Henry the 
 Fifth and the Princess Katharine of Valois. Secondly : 
 King Charles the Sixth was not to be disturbed in 
 the nominal and peaceable possession of the French 
 crown during his life. Thirdly: Queen Isabella was 
 to retain her rank and dignity as consort of the French 
 throne for life, and an allowance made to her for that 
 purpose from the royal exchequer. Fourthly: The 
 Dauphin Charles was to be set aside forever from the 
 succession, and his descendants entirely debarred of the 
 crown. Fifthly: King Henry the Fifth was to be 
 declared and to assume the office of Regent of France 
 during Charles's lifetime. Sixthly: King Henry the 
 Fifth, after Charles's decease, was to succeed to the 
 French crown, which, was to descend to Henry's heirs 
 forever. Seventhly: All the dignitaries, civil and 
 ecclesiastical, of the kingdom, were to be required to 
 swear allegiance to Henry, as Eegent in presenti, and 
 as King in futwo. Eighthly : Henry would forever 
 defend, succor, and befriend Philip Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, would aid him to subdue the Orleanists and 
 all other enemies, would bring the murderers of the 
 late Duke to condign justice, and would cede to him 
 
412 IIENEY THE FIFTII. 
 
 as dependent fiefs, several French counties bordering 
 upon Philip's hereditary dominions. 
 
 These were, in main, the terms of the treaty. To 
 these provisions there was added an understanding, 
 that the Duke of Bedford, Henry's brother, should 
 have for a wife the sister of Burgundy. Such terms, 
 however, though promptly agreed to by Philip and 
 Isabella, were not received by the chief councillors of 
 state without much murmuring and hesitation. Whilst 
 their consent was being obtained, and the nation was 
 being schooled to accept a foreign king as their gov- 
 ernor, an armistice was made between the parties, 
 extending to the twenty-fourth of March, 1 -420. Henry 
 and Philip determined to employ the interval in con- 
 ducting a campaign against Prince Charles, who held 
 nearly one-half the kingdom, and, notwithstanding the 
 unpopularity of his councillors, was still a formidable 
 adversary. 
 
 The military operations, however, were of a de- 
 sultory character, and the French people, doubtless 
 thoroughly wearied of the bitter contentions which 
 had so long distracted them, grew gradually to look 
 without repugnance upon the marriage of the Princess, 
 and the assumption of the Regency by Henry. One 
 by one the court yielded to the persuasions of Philip 
 the Good and the intrigues of Isabella of Bavaria — 
 both foreigners, who sought to set another foreigner 
 over the nation. The feeble mind of the King acqui- 
 esced in any design the effect of which would give 
 him rest. In the bosom of Isabella no motherly feel- 
 ing seems to have existed ; for, without a sigh, she cut 
 off her son's hopes of the throne, and sacrificed with 
 little remorse the hand of her beautiful and innocent 
 daughter at the shrine of her ambition. Negotiations 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 413 
 
 continued on the basis of the treaty of Arras, which 
 was regarded as a preliminary one ; and in the spring 
 of 1420 several modifications were made. It was 
 stipulated that the Queen's pension should "be two 
 thousand francs a month ; a sum equal to fifty thousand 
 pounds sterling was settled as a jointure on the Prin- 
 cess Katharine ; the rights of the legislature, the city 
 corporations, the ancient order of nobility, and the 
 courts of justice were secured; no tax was to be levied 
 contrary to French precedent ; all the conquests of 
 the Regency were to be added to the crown; Nor- 
 mandy was to be reannexed to France as a fief of the 
 crown, on Henry's accession ; Henry was bound not to 
 assume the title of King of France during Charles's 
 life. 
 
 It was finally arranged that Henry, who had made 
 his winter quarters at Eouen, should repair to Troyes, 
 and that the treaty should be there solemnly ratified 
 by the two Kings and their ministers with all the 
 ceremony which in those days added weight to con- 
 tracts of so important a nature. Henry, who was 
 unquestionably in love with the fair Katharine, made 
 an earnest request that his nuptials should be cele- 
 brated immediately after the ratification. Isabella 
 sent him a message that this desire should be gratified ; 
 and the young King awaited with impatience the 
 consummation of his marriage. 
 
 The most dazzling object of his ambition, after a 
 warfare of three years, seemed now within Henry's 
 reach. His love for Katharine was sincere, devoted, 
 ardent ; he was about to lead her to the altar. He 
 was to succeed to the French throne upon Charles's 
 death ; Charles was evidently sinking under his roy- 
 alty and his malady. Henry's success made him pop- 
 
414 HENRY TTIK FIFTH. 
 
 ular at home ; his moderation and wise administration 
 were drawing toward him the hearts of a foreign, 
 rival, and subject people. He looked forward to an 
 early day when in his own person he would unite the 
 two most powerful of diadems; when he would 
 achieve that which Edward the Third and Edward 
 the Black Prince had in vain sought to achieve ; which 
 Edward the Great dared not aspire to; which the 
 heroic and ambitious Bolingbroke had not thought 
 it possible to accomplish — the complete subjugation 
 of France to English domination. 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 " Her gentle spirit 
 Commits itself to you to be directed 
 As from her lord, her governor, her king." 
 
 THE TEEATT OJ TEOYES— THE MAEEIAGE OF HENEY THE FIFTH— CAM- 
 PAIGNS XS FBANCE— EETUBN TO ENGLAND— THE COEONATION AND 
 TOUB OF KATHARINE. 
 
 Ok the 14th. day of May, 1420, King Henry the 
 Fifth departed from Kouen, and proceeded toward 
 Troyes. Distrustful both of Isabella and of Burgundy, 
 he had communicated directly with the Princess Kath- 
 arine on the subject of their marriage. " I have been 
 deceived and baffled so many times," declared he, 
 " that I will treat with no one but the Princess Kath- 
 arine herself, whose innocency, I am sure, will not try 
 to deceive me." * The Bishop of Arras, immediately 
 upon the delivery of this message, came to Henry at 
 Eouen, declared to him that if he would come to 
 Troyes he should marry Katharine without delay, 
 and slyly slipped into the King's hand a love-letter, 
 secretly written by Katharine herself. This letter 
 was so tenderly and affectionately expressed, that 
 Henry was almost beside himself with joy. So on the 
 14th of May, having with him two thousand archers 
 in gorgeous array, Clarence, Gloucester, and the prin- 
 
 * Churchill. 
 
41 G HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 cipal nobles who attended him in France, he set out 
 to meet his beloved, and to conclude the treaty with 
 the French court. As the cavalcade passed a little to 
 the west of Paris, the people flocked out of the gates 
 on all sides to see the young monarch, and welcome 
 him with joyful shouts and blessings. On the 20th, 
 after a six days' pleasant journey, Henry entered 
 Troyes. Philip of Burgundy, Avith habit of sable 
 hue in memory of his father, met the King at the 
 gates of the town, with his retainers, and accompanied 
 him in state to the Hotel de Ville, where the new 
 Regent was to be lodged. That night he went quietly 
 to bed, that he might sleep off the fatigues of the 
 march before presenting himself to his fair betrothed. 
 The next morning the King arose early, accoutred 
 himself in a superb suit of steel armor, mounted with 
 gold, and caused all his retinue to don their most 
 brilliant apparel. Upon his head was a rich helmet, 
 whence drooped a fox's tail decked with jewels, an 
 heraldic symbol which he had adopted, to denote saga- 
 city. Then he Avent in procession from the Hotel de 
 Ville to the Church of Notre Dame, where the French 
 court Avere already assembled to receive him, and 
 Avhere the Queen and Katharine Avere seated upon 
 thrones below the high altar. Henry came forward, 
 knelt, and made his obeisance to the ladies, who there- 
 upon descended from their thrones, and were led by 
 the King of England to the altar. Here a brief ex- 
 change of compliments and congratulations took place. 
 The Queen deplored the absence of King Charles, 
 Avhose malady kept him confined to his apartments. 
 The conversation soon turned \ipon the articles of the 
 treaty, Avhich Philip of Burgundy presented, engrossed, 
 before the sovereigns. The Emperor Sigismund and 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 41T 
 
 several inferior princes were present as witnesses to 
 the transaction. After it was ascertained that there 
 was no misunderstanding on the articles, this famous 
 instrument, consigning France to foreign domination, 
 was ratified. Philip signed as the proxy of the insane 
 King; Isabella put her name to the paper; Henry 
 signed on behalf of England ; and the foreign princes 
 witnessed the final consummation of the compact. By 
 its provision Henry was hereafter to be styled by the 
 King of France, " our most illustrious son, Henry, 
 King of England, heir of France." 
 
 This solemn ceremony over, the King proposed to 
 be immediately affianced with due formality to the 
 fair Katharine. Turning to her, he asked if she would 
 give her hand to him in marriage. A blush mounted 
 her clear temple, and she timidly consented, holding 
 out her hand toward her royal suitor. He took it in 
 his own, and, drawing from his finger a magnificent 
 ring, he placed it upon hers, in token of the betrothal. 
 When this was done, the King introduced to the 
 Princess his favorite knight, Sir Lewis Eobsart* to 
 whom he committed her for protection. The assem- 
 blage then broke up, each retinue departing to its own 
 palace. Soon after this, Henry, on appointing his 
 brother Humphrey of Gloucester Eegent of England 
 and despatching him thence, sent by his hands the 
 following letter to his council, announcing the con- 
 clusion of the treaty and the betrothal : 
 
 " Eight worshipful fathers in God ; and trusty and 
 beloved. Forasmuch that we wot well that your 
 desire were to hear joyful tidings of our good speed, 
 we signify to you (worshipped be our Lord, that of 
 
 * Speed. 
 27 
 
418 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 our labor hath sent us good conclusion). Upon Mon- 
 day, the 20th day of this May, we arrived at this town 
 of Troyes ; and on the morrow had a convention betwixt 
 our mother the Queen of France, and our brother the 
 Duke of Burgundy (as commissioners of the King our 
 father, for his party), and us in our own person for 
 our party. And the accord of peace perpetual was 
 there sworn by both the said commissioners in the 
 name of our aforesaid father, and semblably by us in 
 our own name. 
 
 " And the letters thereupon forthwith sealed under 
 the great seal of our said father toward us, and under 
 ours toward him, the copy of which letter we send 
 you in this. Also at the said convention was marriage 
 betrothed betwixt us and our wife, daughter of our 
 aforesaid father the King of France. 
 
 "H. E." 
 
 Preparations for the nuptials went forward with 
 all speed, and it was resolved to make the occasion as 
 grand a one as so momentous an event deserved. The 
 intervening days were passed in feastings, entertain- 
 ments, and sports, and, with the happy pair, in those 
 tender amenities which among kings as well as their 
 subjects (where there is mutual love) are so delight- 
 ful a prologue to the connubial bond. Katharine, as 
 well as Henry, was impatient for the marriage hour to 
 come. Mill* says that PhUip, who seldom smiled, 
 said of her, " She had passionately longed to be es- 
 poused of King Henry, and, from the moment she saw 
 him, had constantly solicited her mother, with whom 
 she could do any thing, till her marriage took place." 
 A proclamation of peace was issued in Charles's name, 
 
 * Chronicles. 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 419 
 
 and was proclaimed at Paris and throughout the 
 realm. Henry also made a similar edict to be pro- 
 claimed in London, which, being received there late 
 in the ensuing June, was celebrated by processions, 
 illuminations, and harangues. 
 
 On Trinity Sunday, June 22d, the Archbishop 
 of Sens united Henry and Katharine in marriage, at 
 the" high altar of St. John's Church at Troyes. The 
 scene is described to have been one of a degree of 
 magnificence surpassing the custom of even so great 
 an occasion. The princes and nobles of England, 
 France, and Burgundy were grouped about the royal 
 pair, arrayed in the most gorgeous garments, and 
 wearing the insignia of the illustrious orders to which 
 they belonged. 
 
 The Emperor and other German princes had, in* 
 deed, left Troyes. But it is probable that King 
 Charles the Sixth was present at the marriage of his 
 daughter. Burgundy stood near Katharine, dressed 
 in black, with sable plumes, having about his shoul- 
 ders jewelled chains of gold. Clarence and Gloucester, 
 the well-beloved brothers of Henry, were at his side, 
 in the regalia of the Garter, with royal coronets upon 
 their heads. Isabella, adorned with the flews-de-lis 
 and ermine of the Queens consort of France, sup- 
 ported the bride's right hand. Katharine the Fair 
 (so was she called) never looked more lovely fair than 
 upon this day, which seemed so bright to her. Her 
 perfect form was enveloped in a rich gown and with 
 ermine, over every part of which glittered the rarest 
 gems of Golconda Henry was adorned with the royal 
 insignia of England, and upon his head rested the 
 diadem of the Plantagenets. 
 
 After the rites had been performed, the ceremony 
 
420 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 of swearing allegiance to the Kegent King took place. 
 Philip of Burgundy set the example ; he was followed 
 by the great vassals, barons, and dignitaries of the 
 kingdom in order of precedence. Says one of the 
 historians : " The fame of his heroic actions in war, 
 when his person was unknown to them, had acquired 
 him an universal esteem ; and they knew not what 
 most to admire, his courage, conduct, or success. But 
 now his noble presence, in which there was a due mix- 
 ture of majesty with affable deportment, procured a 
 greater veneration. They knew him to be prudent in 
 councils, experienced in war, of an undaunted courage 
 in dangers, and prosperous in all his enterprises ; and 
 therefore they persuaded themselves that their coun- 
 try would be happy under the influences of his gov- 
 ernment." Notwithstanding the grievous hurt to the 
 national vanity, it is probable that the nobility were 
 somewhat relieved to find at last a capable and ener- 
 getic hand about to guide the affairs of France. They 
 had been so long without a competent directing mind, 
 and the State had been so bitterly shaken by the 
 miserable contentions of the rival princes, that the 
 prospect of a vigorous administration must have been 
 welcome, even though it came through a foreign source. 
 Therefore Henry was accepted, if not cordially, at least 
 willingly, as Regent during the remainder of Charles's 
 worse than useless existence. When the oath had 
 been taken, Henry turned to the assembly, and made 
 them a harangue full of conciliation, kindness, and 
 moderation, forbearing to touch their pride, but ex- 
 pressing himself in a modest and simple manner. In 
 the evening, when the royal bride and bridegroom 
 had retired, the venerable archbishop came and blessed 
 their couch. Hardly had he retired, when a brilliant 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 421 
 
 procession arrived at the Hotel de Vine, entered the 
 bridal chamber and presented to the King and Queen, 
 as was the French custom, wine and soup as they re- 
 clined in bed. On the following morning a sump- 
 tuous feast, in which both the English and the French 
 princes and nobles joined, took place. Burgundy 
 then proposed a grand tournament in honor of the oc- 
 casion. " No, my lord," said the ' King, turning to 
 him, " I pray you to permit, and I command all our 
 servants to be ready to-morrow morning to go and lay 
 siege to Sens, wherein are our enemies ; there every' 
 man may have jousting and tourneying enough, and 
 may give proof of his prowess ; for there is no finer 
 prowess than that of doing justice on the wicked, in 
 order that the poor people may breathe and live." 
 
 "Well might Henry be anxious to put off the bridal 
 garments with all haste ; for that power which he had 
 just acquired was in danger of being lost, while yet 
 the feastings were going forward. The Dauphin 
 Charles had not lain supinely on his back, whilst his 
 heritage was being signed away by a Flemish vassal 
 and a Bavarian mother. He had received reenforce- 
 ments, not only from the interior of France, but also 
 from the British Isles. Seven thousand men, under 
 the Earl of Buchan, the son of the Regent Albany, 
 had joined him from Scotland ; a large body of Welsh 
 archers had hastened to his succor. The news of the 
 treaty of Troyes being spread through the country, 
 began to produce a reaction in favor of the Dauphin. 
 He had already, during the autumn and winter, been 
 active in his military operations. Burgundy had re- 
 taken some of his conquests; others he continued to 
 hold against every attempt. The Prince of Orange, a 
 vassal of Burgundy, had been engaged with him in 
 
422 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 Languedoc; and in that direction the Dauphin had 
 succeeded in taking Pont St. Esprit, Nismes, and 
 Aigues Mortes. Assuming the title of Regent by- 
 right of birth, the active young Prince proceeded for- 
 ward, and when he had taken a town which had re- 
 sisted him in the Burgundian interest, he permitted 
 and even commanded the most atrocious cruelties to 
 be visited upon their inhabitants. Then advancing 
 northward with the Scots under Buchan, he had taken 
 and stoutly garrisoned Sens, Melun, and Montereau. 
 The sagacity with which he selected his lieutenants 
 and servants gained for him the title of "Le bien 
 servi," and which contributed not a little to his success. 
 The Dauphin was in the full tide of victory when 
 the King of England's marriage took place. The 
 news soon reached Henry of the formidable position 
 of his enemy ; and, fresh from his bridal, he resolved 
 to put a check upon that career, which threatened his 
 newly-acquired dignities. He had at this time with 
 him in France, the young King James the First of 
 Scotland, who, it will be remembered, was made a 
 captive of England late in the reign of Hemy the 
 Fourth. This prince he thought to take with him 
 against the Dauphin, in the hope that Buchan's troops, 
 seeing their sovereign in the hostile camp, might re- 
 fuse to fight, as it were, against their sovereign. The 
 King announced his determination to set out at once. 
 He put a stop to the festivities, consigned his wife to 
 the care of Robsart, and called about him iu consulta- 
 tion Burgundy, Clarence, Gloucester, and the chief 
 princes and generals who were in attendance at Troyes. 
 He sent commands to those of his troops which he 
 had left behind at Rouen to come forward and aid in 
 the discomfiture of the Dauphin. Katharine, whilst 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 423 
 
 she recognized the expediency of these, prompt meas- 
 ures, and saw the necessity of putting an abrupt 
 period to her honeymoon, was unwilling to be sepa- 
 rated from her lord with such little ceremony, and 
 proposed, to accompany his march. Isabella being 
 animated by the same opinion, it was resolved that 
 the whole court > now resolved into two, should 
 move with the forces. Humphrey, Duke of Glouces- 
 ter, was sent to England to relieve Bedford of the 
 Eegency, who was to join Henry in France with the 
 fresh levies which had been made. 
 
 The English, French, and Burgundian forces hav- 
 ing been put in marching order, the armament, ac- 
 companied by the royal courts, moved westward 
 toward Sens, on the day but one, after that on which 
 the marriage had been solemnized. On Wednesday, 
 the fifth, they arrived opposite the town, which lay 
 upon the east bank of the river Yonne. It was held 
 by a strong garrison of Dauphinists, who prepared to 
 make a vigorous defence. The royal courts estab- 
 lished themselves at a distance, whilst the army was 
 promptly stationed below the walls, and the siege 
 began without delay. The Queens Isabella and 
 Katharine, with King Charles, awaited the issue, sur- 
 rounded by a brilliant galaxy of nobles and ladies, 
 and by an elegant sumptuousness hardly befitting a 
 battle-scene. Beared as they were in the midst of 
 revolutions and discords, it is yet probable that now, 
 for the first time, these fair dames of England and 
 France experienced the immediate presence of war. 
 Henry and Burgundy took command of the siege in 
 person. Whilst the siege was progressing, Bedford 
 arrived with his succors, and this gave the allies so 
 great an advantage, that Sens surrendered, and its 
 
424 HENRY TltE FIFTn. 
 
 keys were delivered up to the King of England. The 
 sovereigns, attended by the Archbishop of Sens, and 
 the brilliant cortege which composed the court, en- 
 tered the town with much display, and proceeded to 
 the cathedral, where thanksgivings took place. Henry, 
 turning to the prelate (who had been ousted of his 
 diocese because of his Burgundian opinions, and had 
 left his wife behind), said to him with a smile : "Now, 
 Monseigneur, we are quits ; for you gave me my wife 
 the other day, and I now restore you to yours."* 
 
 From Sens Henry proceeded to Yilleneuve, prob- 
 ably leaving the court behind. Villeneuve fell after 
 a feeble resistance ; moving forward from thence, the 
 army sat down before Montereau, which was a much 
 more formidable fortress. An attempt to take it by 
 storming demonstrated that the siege would be by 
 no means an easy one ; and Henry, anxious to see as 
 much of his bride as possible, sent her word to come 
 into his vicinity with the court. The Queens and 
 their households, therefore, removed to Bray-sur-Seine, 
 quite near Montereau. Under the vigorous general- 
 ship of the King, who on every occasion took the per- 
 sonal command, the town was forced to give up its 
 keys; not so, however, with the citadel. The garri- 
 son, having conveyed thither an abundance of ammu- 
 nition and food, held out strenuously, though now sur- 
 rounded by the confederated forces. The castle was 
 a formidable one, covered by excellent defences; the 
 garrison was led by determined and able adherents 
 of the Dauphin. Repeated summons to surrender 
 having been made and scoffed at, the King determined 
 on a stern, and, we believe, not justifiable course of 
 action. Some of the brave men who had been cap- 
 
 * Monatrolot 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 425 
 
 tured during a sally, were brought out under the 
 castle walls, in full view of their comrades. A mes- 
 sage was sent to the garrison, that unless they surren- 
 dered, these men should be executed forthwith. Com- 
 pliance being still withheld, a gibbet was erected, and 
 the threat accomplished. For this cruelty, only the 
 habits of Henry's age, and the defects of his education, 
 could excuse him. It was neither in accordance with 
 his naturally humane disposition, nor with his previ- 
 ous career, as is evident from what has already been 
 narrated. In the obscurity with which the account 
 comes to us, it is reasonable to conjecture that this 
 transaction probably occurred at the instance of Bur- 
 gundy; he had especial reasons for hating the gov- 
 ernor, who was accused, at least, of having planted a 
 dagger in the breast of John the Fearless.* 
 
 Several days elapsed before, exhausted and nearly 
 famished, the brave garrison surrendered. The inter- 
 val was employed in the desultory operations of a 
 blockading siege. Henry paid frequent visits to the 
 fair Katharine, and the courts awaited, with easy com- 
 fort, the catastrophe. Margaret, Duchess of Clarence, 
 had joined the royal party from England, having come 
 hither to visit her gallant husband, who was proving 
 himself his brother's ablest lieutenant. In a week 
 after the execution of the prisoners, the combined 
 army took possession of the citadel and its defenders. 
 Henry, determined that there should be no delay in 
 bringing the campaign to a conclusion, ordered an 
 immediate advance on Melun, the last stronghold of 
 the Dauphin between him and Paris. As such, it 
 was resolved by its defenders to make a most desper- 
 ate resistance to its capture. Barbason, one of the 
 
 * Holingshed, iii. 120. 
 
426 IIENEY TIIE FIFTH. 
 
 best officers in the Dauphin's service, commanded the 
 garrison ; the Seine protected the town on one side, 
 and double breastworks on the other ; and Henry per- 
 ceived that it was to be no insignificant task to take 
 it. The siege lasted several months. The courts 
 moved thither, and kept up, uninterrupted, the mag- 
 nificence and luxury of royalty, not far distant from 
 the scene of conflict. There was Katharine, surrounded, 
 as the chroniclers say, " with a shining train of ladies," 
 for whom every comfort was provided from the me- 
 tropolis. The King, as often as ever opportunity per- 
 mitted, hastened to the presence of his lovely bride, 
 and divided his time between the din and smoke of 
 battle and the pleasures of an unusually congenial 
 honeymoon. There, too, was Isabella, keeping a 
 watchful eye over her demented spouse, who compre- 
 hended little or nothing of what was happening around 
 him. 
 
 " It was a sorry sight," says Monstrelet, " to see the 
 King of France bereft of all his usual state and pomp. 
 They resided, with many ladies and damsels, about a 
 month, in a house King Henry had had built for them 
 near his tents, and at a distance from the town, that 
 the roar of the cannon might not disturb King 
 Charles." 
 
 Among other diversions which Henry introduced 
 to relieve the tedium and distract the attention of his 
 bride, he caused her to be entertained with music, for 
 which art both had an enthusiastic love, and in which 
 the King at least was quite a proficient. He sent to 
 England for some harps, which he played charmingly, 
 and upon their arrival he woidd sit by Katharine and 
 perform on them, accompanying the strings with his 
 rich and melodious voice. His taste was especially for 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 427 
 
 sacred music, such as was performed at the mass, and 
 he was so great an adept, that he frequently composed 
 pieces which are said to have delighted all who heard 
 them. Besides the harp, he often played upon the 
 organ, whose solemn and stately tones delighted his 
 sombre fancy. 
 
 " Every day at sunrise," says the chronicler, " and 
 at nightfall, ten clarions and divers other instruments 
 were ordered by King Henry to play for an hour most 
 melodiously, before the door of the King of France." 
 This was the King's delightful recreation from the 
 heating toils of the day; and we can imagine the 
 honeymoon to have passed most happily, even though 
 it were cast in the immediate vicinity of mortal strife. 
 It' seems that during the siege, Katharine herself 
 learned to play on the harp, doubtless under the in- 
 structions of her royal spouse. During each day 
 there were frequent sallies of troops, often skirmishes 
 took place, and small parties occasionally met and 
 fought in presence of both armies. Sometimes two 
 knights of either side would meet in single combat, 
 thus affording the spectacle of a foot tournament to 
 the assembled columns. 
 
 On one occasion, two nobly caparisoned knights, 
 with intrepid bearing and haughty mien, met between 
 the hostile forces, and fought long and stoutly. Their 
 visors were down, and neither could recognize the 
 other. At last one of them raised his visor and ex- 
 claimed, " I am Barbason, Commandant of Melun." 
 The other instantly, likewise showing his countenance, 
 replied, " And I am the King of England." The two 
 commanding generals had met face to face, and, un- 
 known to all and to each other, had set a shining 
 example to their troops of strength and pertinacity. 
 
428 IIENBY THE FIFTH. 
 
 A general assault was once attempted, contrary to 
 Henry's opinion, and resulted in a serious repulse to 
 the combined forces. During the siege, Henry made 
 frequent visits to Paris, and managed to superintend 
 the civil administration whilst engaged in military 
 operations. The King of Scotland was kept in the 
 camp to awe the Scotch on the other side ; but with 
 little effect, as Buchan easily persuaded his troops 
 that it was no treason to fight against the jailers of 
 their captive sovereign. 
 
 After the usual vicissitudes of a long siege had 
 been experienced, the garrison, on the seventeenth 
 of November, 1420, were constrained to surrender, 
 and the Kings and Queens entered the brave little 
 town in regal state. Such of the garrison as were 
 proved to have been implicated in the assassination 
 of John the Fearless, were forthwith executed. Four 
 hundred prisoners were sent forward to Paris, to be 
 held in security. Bertrand de Chaumont, a knight 
 of Henry's army, who had served faithfully under him 
 at Agincourt, received a bribe to assist one to escape, 
 who had been an accomplice in Burgundy's murder. 
 It was discovered in time to seize the offender, and 
 Henry, despite the intercession of Burgundy and 
 Clarence, ordered him to be shot. He declared, how- 
 ever, that he had rather lose fifty thousand nobles 
 than so good and brave a knight as Chaumont. 
 
 The King of England justly regarded the fall of 
 Melun as a decisive victory over the Dauphiu, from 
 which that prince would find it difficult to recover. 
 He determined to advance at once to Paris with the 
 French and English courts, and to establish himself 
 and his allies there in state, as the controlling powers 
 of the nation. After a few days had passed, therefore, 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 429 
 
 the royal corteges proceeded in the direction of the 
 metropolis, the army following at a short distance. 
 Before they reached the gates of the city, however, , 
 Henry deemed it best to enter without the Queens 
 first, that he might test the temper of the city toward 
 him, before he subjected Katharine to the possibility 
 of insult. Accompanied on his left hand by Charles 
 the Sixth, his father-in-law, and followed by the Dukes 
 of Burgundy and Clarence, Henry entered Paris at 
 the head of a brilliant cavalcade. Burgundy and his 
 suite formed a contrast to the rest, by the sombreness 
 of their apparel, worn to remind the spectators of the 
 assassination at Montereau. The reception of Henry 
 by the citizens was most gratifying to his ambition. 
 They flocked out in great multitudes to meet him, and 
 as he passed, attended by the King, princes, and prin- 
 cipal nobility of France, they exhibited a hearty and 
 exultant joy. Many were dressed in red, in compli- 
 ment to the Regent ; that being the national color of 
 England. Processions of priests approached the sov- 
 ereigns, who bore sacred relics, which they held up 
 for their majesties to kiss. The King of France indi- 
 cated that Henry should salute them first; but the 
 latter, turning and bowing humbly to his father-in- 
 law, gracefully urged him to kiss them before himself. 
 In this manner, followed by dense multitudes, the 
 Kings proceeded to the Cathedral of Notre Dame, 
 where, at the high altar, they kneeled side by side, 
 and offered up their united supplications for the Di- 
 vine blessing. Having concluded this ceremonious 
 devotion, two cavalcades were formed, one of which, 
 escorting King Charles and the Duke of Burgundy, 
 conducted them to the Hotel de St. Paul, which was 
 designated as the future residence of the King and 
 
430 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 Queen of France; while the other, attending King 
 Henry and his brothers Clarence and Bedford, went 
 to the Louvre, where the English court was to be 
 lodged. There was feasting and entertainment of 
 every kind during that night. The Parisians thought 
 they now saw an end of all civil discord, and a re- 
 sumption of the thrift and customs of peace. The 
 whole city joined in the rejoicing. There was mer- 
 rymaking everywhere. From fountains and chan- 
 nels ran countless streams of delicious wine, whence 
 all might freely quaff, and which were never ex- 
 hausted. The corridors and halls of both palaces 
 resounded with the revel far into the night ; food and 
 delicacies were distributed to the poor; and many 
 streets were illumined by the torches of masquers, 
 who ran up and down, shouting and singing the 
 praises of both the sovereigns. Processions of enthu- 
 siastic citizens paraded the thoroughfares with ban- 
 ners and pennons, upon which were devices illustrative 
 of the death of Burgundy, the conquests of Hemy, 
 and the atrocities of the Armagnacs. 
 
 On the following morning, the Queens Isabella 
 and Katharine, attended by the Duchesses of Clarence 
 and Burgundy, and a numerous and brilliant retinue 
 of ladies, entered the metropolis, surrounded by the 
 most regal magnificence. The enthusiasm which 
 greeted their arrival was as great as that which had 
 welcomed their lords on the day before. Tapestries, 
 worked in scenes illustrating the marriage at Troves, 
 were festooned on the houses along their route, and 
 wine flowed in great abundance. Citizens came 
 forward, bearing costly marriage presents, and laid 
 them at the feet of their lovely princess, the Queen of 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 431 
 
 England.* All the acclamations were directed toward 
 her ; but little notice was taken of the proud Bavarian, 
 who, thirty years before, had enchanted Paris by her 
 dark and lustrous beauty. 
 
 They proceeded with their respective suites, Katha- 
 rine to the Palace of the Louvre, Isabella to the Hotel 
 de St. Paul. The real court was fixed, without doubt, 
 at the Louvre. The contrast between the surround- 
 ings of Charles and those of Henry was sad indeed. 
 Charles was left deserted in the lonely chambers of 
 St. Paul ; few of his nobles or subjects came near him ; 
 his board was plain, and even scanty; the corridors 
 were silent, and there were indeed "none so poor as 
 to do him homage." One would never have guessed 
 that there resided the genuine royalty of France. At 
 the Louvre, on the contrary, all the splendid ostenta- 
 tion befitting the court of a sovereign of a great na- 
 tion was displayed. Princes and nobles of France 
 thronged the antechambers, eager for audiences with 
 the virtual King. The officers of the household were 
 generously attired, and with all ceremony performed 
 their duties. Troops of guards lined the avenues lead- 
 ing to the palace. Henry was daily busy with State 
 councils, and was constantly the recipient of some 
 powerful adherent, or some devoted service. Katha- 
 rine was surrounded with every splendor and luxury, 
 and gave soirees and balls without number. Sump- 
 tuous feasts were held ; and, in truth, every indication 
 of conceded power marked the daily routine of the 
 King of England. English troops were put in garri- 
 son at Vincennes, at the Bastile, and in the suburban 
 defences about the capital. Henry made such changes 
 in the council of state and in every political depart- 
 
 * Monstrelet. 
 
432 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 ment, as suited his policy or his inclination. The Duke 
 of Clarence was appointed Military Commandant of 
 Paris. Henry summoned the French legislature to- 
 gether, and laid before them the treaty of Troyes, 
 which they confirmed, and in accordance with which 
 they swore allegiance to him as Regent. They ex- 
 pressed a wish that a decree should be issued declaring 
 all to be traitors who did not acknowledge his title. 
 A grand council was then held, composed of the nobles, 
 the deputies, the advisers of the crown, and the higher 
 clergy, to consider the measures to be taken in the case 
 of the Dauphin. King Charles presided on the throne 
 in person, the King Regent being placed at his light 
 hand. Philip of Burgundy, aided by the prosecutor 
 for the Crown, made a formal charge against the 
 Dauphin and his advisers, that they had atrociously 
 assassinated his father, the Duke John the Fearless. 
 He demanded that an edict should be passed, accord- 
 ingly, against them. There being but one party in 
 the council, the deliberations were brief. A decree, 
 assented to by both the King and the Regent, was 
 promulgated, in which the following provisions were 
 embraced : that the Dauphin should be commanded 
 to do penance by building churches at Montereau, 
 where the assassination took place; that he should 
 suffer the usual penalties of the crime ; that he should 
 be stripped of all civil rights, and all inheritable titles 
 and rank; that France should be forever absolved 
 from all allegiance to the Dauphin or his heirs ; and 
 that whoever took an oath for him, or in any way en- 
 couraged, abetted, or assisted him to resist the au- 
 thority of the Regent, should be punished as guilty 
 of high treason. The Dauphin was next summoned 
 to appear before the High Court of Parliament with 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 433 
 
 his counsellors, to answer to the charge of Burgundy ; 
 and upon his failure so to do, attainder and outlawry 
 was passed against him. 
 
 To these fulminations the spirited Prince sent a 
 defiant answer. Assuming the title of Regent, he is- 
 sued a proclamation, in which he declared everlasting 
 war upon the alliance of Henry and Philip, called upon 
 the University to join his standard, and summoned a 
 parliament to convene at Poictiers. The court at the 
 Louvre, however, had little reason to fear his movements 
 as yet, and treated his proclamation with contempt. 
 Christmas was passed with great feasting and gayety 
 in Paris, the main business "being now concluded. 
 
 Meantime the English began to be very anxi- 
 ous to see their hero King, and above all his 
 young bride, who was to share his throne, and give 
 birth to his successors. The House of Commons 
 prayed him to hasten back to England as speedily as 
 he could, that by his presence among them they might 
 be supported and refreshed. A request so flattering 
 appealed to the conqueror's heart, which ever beat af- 
 fectionately for his beloved isle. He set about prepa- 
 rations to return to England, and informed his brother 
 Gloucester, the Eegent, of his determination to resume 
 the royal authority. He designed to sojourn in Nor- 
 mandy awhile before embarking, that he might ob- 
 serve with his own eyes the effects of the system he 
 had instituted there. Queen Isabella was appointed 
 Regent of France, with the custody of Charles, during 
 Henry's absence. About the first of January, 1421, 
 the King and Queen of England set out from Paris 
 for the north, amid great pomp, having as a body-guard 
 six thousand horsemen, commanded by the Duke of 
 Bedford. The progress of the royal pair through 
 28 
 
■134 IIENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 Normandy was attended with every exhibition of 
 popular enthusiasm and affection. In almost every 
 town presents were showered upon Katharine. The 
 population came out to meet the cortege, and sprinkled 
 wreaths of flowers beneath the horses' hoofs. Katha- 
 rine proceeded through Amiens and Teroune to Calais, 
 where she rested from the fatiguing jaunt ; while Henry, 
 never indolent, travelled about the province, investi- 
 gating the abuses which were extant, and examining 
 the administration of the laws. He put a stop to the 
 tyrannies and exactions of petty officers which had 
 become prevalent ; compelled the residence of priests 
 at their parishes; introduced a stricter discipline 
 among the garrisons ; and did other wise things for 
 the better security of the country. The Norman 
 estates were convened in his presence at Rouen, and 
 voted him one hundred thousand sterling to maintain 
 his military establishment in Normandy. Having 
 spent a month in actively supervising the political 
 system of his original conquest, he joined Katharine at 
 Calais, and on the first of February they embarked 
 for England. Thomas Duke of Clarence was nomi- 
 nated by the King as his lieutenant in France, who 
 should look to the interests of the English dominion 
 whilst the Regent was away. At Dover the reception 
 of the King and Queen within their proper kingdom 
 was most affectionate. Monstrelet says that Katha- 
 rine received a welcome to her adopted country, " as 
 if she had been an angel of God." They proceeded 
 with little delay to London, and took up their abode 
 in the royal apartments at the palace of Westminster. 
 It must have been most gratifying to the young Queen 
 to behold everywhere aboxit her the evidences of the 
 love which her husband had inspired in his subjects. 
 
HENKT THE FIFTH. 435 
 
 She observed with, pleasure how united and devoted 
 all classes were to Ms support ; and on every hand the 
 marks of his wise and vigorous statesmanship were 
 apparent. For his sake, the English had loved Katha- 
 rine before they beheld her ; and now that they saw 
 so beautiful and modest a princess, they could not 
 help loving her for her own. She so bore herself in 
 presence of the stranger nation as to win their ap- 
 plause, and to command their eternal fidelity and alle- 
 giance. She ingratiated herself with the ladies of her 
 court by the affability of her temper, the cheerfulness 
 of her disposition, and the unostentatious manner with 
 which she presided over the social duties of royalty. 
 Gloucester, the Regent, had sustained the excellent 
 administration for which Bedford had been distin- 
 guished, and now delivered over to the King a well- 
 ordered, harmonious, and obedient State. Henry was 
 anxious that the first event of importance should be 
 the coronation of his Queen ; preparations were ac- 
 cordingly made for the speedy performance of that 
 ceremony. 
 
 The coronation finally took place on Sunday, the 
 24th of February, 1421. The rites Were performed in 
 Westminster Abbey. Katharine, walking between 
 two enrobed prelates, went in procession from the 
 palace to the church, and there, in the presence of a 
 brilliant assemblage, Archbishop Chicheley, of Canter- 
 bury, placed the royal crown upon her head. Thence 
 the court returned to the Great Hall of "Westminster, 
 where the feast of the coronation was spread before 
 them. The descriptions of this entertainment, which 
 seems to have been unusual in its character, are minute. 
 Katharine sat at the head of the table, at the -upper 
 end of the long hall. On her right was placed the 
 
436 HENRY TIIE FIFTH. 
 
 Primate and Henry Beaufort, Cardinal Bishop of Win- 
 chester, the King's uncle and former tutor ; on her left 
 sat the captive King James of Scotland, the most un- 
 fortunate monarch and the greatest poet of his age — 
 for whom Katharine had conceived a cordial friend- 
 ship, and whom she sought soon after to release from 
 his durance. The King of Scotland was dressed in 
 royal robes, was surrounded with a state befitting 
 his rank, and was served from dishes of silver, as a 
 peculiar distinction.* Near him sat the Duchess 
 Dowager of York and the Countess of Huntingdon. 
 The Countess of Kent reclined on an ottoman at the 
 Queen's feet, holding a napkin for Katharine's use. 
 The young Earl of March, the displaced heir to the 
 throne, knelt on the other side of Katharine, bearing 
 her sceptre in his hand; a little further off was 
 Nottingham, Earl Marshal, bearing another sceptre. 
 Humphrey of Gloucester was the director of the feast, 
 and did the honors of the royal board. Grouped 
 around her Majesty were the great nobles who held 
 the offices of ceremony incident to her household, Sir 
 Kichard Neville, her cup-bearer, Sir John Stuart bear- 
 ing the server, Lord Clifford the bread, and Lord Grey 
 de Ruthyn the cloths, and Lord Audley, the Queens 
 almoner, or distributor of charities. It being the third 
 Sunday in Lent, no meat was served upon the table ; 
 but every vaiiety of fish was provided — solos, ehubb, 
 barbel, lobster, roach, smelt, lamprey, dead eels stewed, 
 carp, perch, gudgeon. Numerous devices, significant 
 in meaning, were placed upon the board at intervals. 
 One consisted of a pelican reposing on its nest with 
 young, over which stood a figure of St. Katharine, 
 disputing with sages, and holding in her hand a card, 
 
 * Hollnshod. 
 
HEOTJY THE FIFTH. 437 
 
 upon which the guest deciphered " Madame the Queen." 
 Another was the royal escutcheon and crown, inge- 
 niously formed of confectionery, where St. Katharine 
 again appeared, with the conceit — 
 
 " The Queen my daughter 
 In this island, 
 Has with good reason 
 Renown." 
 
 Another represented a tiger gazing in a mirror, while 
 beside him was a knight full armed, bearing in his 
 arms a young tiger, and having, in allusion to the 
 Dauphin, this motto : " By force, not persuasion, I 
 have taken this beast." The merrymaking was con- 
 tinued until late in the evening, and the King toward 
 the close came in and joined in the general mirth. 
 The feast was- not concluded without a most graceful 
 act on the part of Katharine. She asked her husband 
 to grant her, in this hour of good cheer, one boon. 
 Being asked what it was, the fair princess declared it 
 to be her urgent wish, that the young Scotch King 
 should be liberated, and restored to his inheritance. 
 Henry, having made it a condition that James should 
 join him in arms when he should return across the 
 Channel, consented to his being set at liberty. But 
 it appears that the gallant Scot was not quite satis- 
 fied with this alone. In his weary hours at Windsor 
 he had often perceived a lovely damsel promenading 
 pensively in the gardens below him ; and, vacant of 
 mind, he had found no better occupation than to fall 
 in love with her, and to busy himself by composing 
 innumerable sonnets in her praise. The young lady 
 turned out to be the fair Joanna Beaufort, step-niece 
 to the King, whose beauty was the constant envy of 
 the court belles. With a woman's quick perception, 
 
438 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 Katharine soon discovered why her protege^ did not 
 receive his freedom with rapture. Doubly interested 
 in him now that his trouble was a love-affair, the 
 Queen gave him every encouragement, interceded with 
 Joanna (a not difficult task), persuaded the KiDg, and 
 had the satisfaction of bringing about, in a short time, 
 the betrothal of the love-sick pair. Soon after the 
 feast of coronation Joanna became Queen of Scotland, 
 being wedded in the presence of the English court. 
 The few weeks succeeding the coronation of the Queen 
 were quietly and pleasantly spent by the royal pair 
 in the retirement of "Windsor; and this castle, so beau- 
 tifully situated on a cliff overhanging the Thames, 
 became Katharine's favorite residence in England. 
 
 Henry, however, so restless and busy was his na- 
 ture, was not content to remain long idle. He had 
 been so long away from his realm that he was curious 
 to visit the different counties, and to correct whatever 
 abuses might have crept in during his absence. He 
 was desirous to show to his people the new Queen, 
 being well assured by experience that she would elicit 
 admiration everywhere. He determined, therefore, to 
 make a progress with her through the kingdom. 
 About the eighth of March the preparations were 
 complete, and the King and Queen, attended by a 
 numerous and brilliant retinue, set out from Windsor 
 in a northwesterly direction. Their first halt was 
 made at Coventry, the scene of Bolingbroke's duel 
 with Norfolk, and where Henry had a country-house. 
 Through whatever town they passed they were re- 
 ceived with hilarious enthusiasm, and Henry, at each 
 place, addressed the townspeople with short and 
 felicitous harangues. It was his wish that a well- 
 disposed parliament should be elected, that he might 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 439 
 
 have no trouble in prosecuting his designs in France, 
 through want of supply and popular compliance; and 
 he wisely thought, by humoring the people, he might 
 obtain a complaisant legislature. 
 
 From Coventry, the sovereigns went to Kenilworth 
 Castle, near by, then a favorite residence of Henry, 
 as indeed it had formerly been of his grandfather, 
 John of Gaunt. Henry had bestowed much attention 
 to the adornment of Kenilworth, and had ordered 
 lawns and avenues to be constructed around it; so 
 that it was, at the time of his present visit, one of the 
 loveliest spots in England. The royal cavalcade went 
 thence to Leicester, where the solemn rites of Easter 
 were celebrated. Their next destination was the ven- 
 erable and historic city of York, the metropolis of the 
 north, where they arrived about the first of April. 
 The people of York gave their beloved lord and his 
 charming Queen a reception so hearty, so loyal, so 
 magnificent, as to bring tears to the eyes of the victo- 
 rious King. Preparations the most elaborate had 
 been made to celebrate his visit ; the municipal ex- 
 chequer had been drained to supply the cost; Te 
 Devms were chanted in the huge and sombre York 
 minster, by whole choirs of priests ; the streets were 
 festooned with gorgeous tapestries; music lent its 
 noble harmonies to the jubilee; and maidens, with 
 costly robes, met the royal cortege, and showered 
 spring flowers beneath the horses' hoofs as they passed 
 along. Henry spoke to the multitudes with a tender 
 emotion which won every heart ; and Katharine, all 
 smiles and graciousness, called forth their enthusiastic 
 admiration. 
 
 In the midst of these rejoicings, however, there 
 came news to Henry from France, which filled his 
 
440 IIENIIY TirE FIFTH. 
 
 heart witli the acutest anguish, and plunged all Eng- 
 land into the darkest gloom. It seemed that cypress 
 must be twined with the garlands of joyous triumph. 
 The gallant, the stainless, the great-hearted Thomas 
 of Clarence had fallen in battle, valiantly fighting in 
 the service of England. The best-beloved, as well as 
 the most capable of Henry's brothers, would no longer 
 be his good right arm, filling his place in absence, 
 sustaining when present, by the wisdom of his head, 
 and the loving fidelity of his heart. Thus it hap- 
 pened : Clarence, as has been said, was left by Henry 
 in command of the forces in France, and was charged 
 with the duty of maintaining the campaign against 
 Prince Charles, the Dauphin. 
 
 When the latter knew of the Eegent King's de- 
 parture, he became alarmingly active, and rapidly ad- 
 vanced from the south toward the Loire. Clarence 
 promptly set his forces in motion, leading a large part 
 of the troops left in his command, and made quick 
 marches westward, taking his road through Chartes, 
 Maine, and Anjou, which counties he plundered for 
 the sustenance of his army. Hoping to surprise 
 Charles, he encamped at Angers, on the north bank 
 of the Loire, at its junction with the Sarthe. Charles, 
 however, who was stationed in Clarence's rear at 
 Beaug6, had been apprised of his approach, and was 
 informed of his numbers. Clarence, rash and brave, 
 began the battle by pushing forward in person at the 
 head of his cavalry corps, having ordered Kent to 
 follow with the archers. The Dauphin made a prompt 
 disposition of his forces, himself commanding the 
 French, and Buchan the Scots, and received the im- 
 petuous shock of his adversary with stoical obstinacy. 
 After a desperate conflict, the English lines broke, 
 
HENBY THE FIFTH. 441 
 
 the Duke of Clarence and the Earl of Kent were slain 
 while striving to rally their columns, two thousand 
 lay dead on the field, and two hundred prisoners fell 
 into the Dauphin's hands.* His victory was complete ; 
 the remainder of the English, under the Earl of Salis- 
 bury, fled by a rapid retreat northward. The French 
 loss was about half that of the English. 
 
 The Dauphin vigorously followed up the pursuit, 
 but the defeated army succeeded in reaching and en- 
 tering Alencon, before they could be overtaken. 
 Charles came up and attempted to take the place by 
 siege ; the English tried the offensive, by seeking to 
 raise the siege ; both these efforts failed. The Dauphin 
 then led his exhausted columns back to the province 
 of Anjou, waiving, for the present, further active hos- 
 tilities, and probably well satisfied with the victory 
 at Beauge.f 
 
 No loss could have affected Henry so deeply as 
 did the death of Clarence. He was almost the only 
 person in whom the King placed entire trust. Their 
 mutual affection had never been interrupted by a 
 single instance of discord. Clarence had been the 
 companion alike of Henry's trials and of his triumphs. 
 He had been cast down by Henry's failures, he had 
 gloried in Henry's success. He possessed a tone of 
 mind strikingly similar to that of his elder brother. 
 His heart was warm and impulsive, his head clear, 
 his valor most conspicuous, his purity of life beyond 
 dispute. No man, except the King himself, was so 
 well beloved by soldiers and people. Never for a 
 moment was Clarence envious of Henry, or was Henry 
 
 * Juv, des Ursins, 389. Hollin. iii. 127. 
 
 f The Scots under Buchan fought with a valor so conspicuous, that their 
 commander received from the Dauphin the title of Constable of France. 
 
442 HENKT THE FIFTH. 
 
 fearful of Clarence. The fraternal love which existed 
 between them is something marvellous and beautiful, 
 almost without example in the history of royal houses. 
 The news, therefore, fell with a shock upon Henry, 
 in the midst of the festivities at York He at once 
 retired to deep seclusion, performed exercises of devo- 
 tion, and in the quiet of his closet gave away to the 
 bitterness of his grief. He bid a touching adieu to 
 Katharine, and, leaving her behind at York, he made 
 pilgrimages to the tomb of St. John of Bridlington, 
 the patron saint of the House of Lancaster, St. John 
 of Beverley, and to Lincoln, where the new prelate, 
 Richard Fleming, was to be consecrated. Having con- 
 cluded these pious devotions, his mind grew more 
 calm, and he became gradually more able to consider 
 the condition of France, and the policy which it was 
 necessary for him to pursue. He determined to sum- 
 mon his Parliament without delay ; to organize a large 
 force ; to lead them to France, and, by a decisive cam- 
 paign, at once avenge the death of Clarence, annihilate 
 the Dauphin, and make France secure to Lancaster 
 forever. With this view he issued a proclamation, 
 summoning the estates to meet him at Westminster 
 early in May. Meantime he made a brief progress 
 westward, and thence returned to London. 
 
 The Queen came southward, visiting as she pro- 
 ceeded Pontefract, where Richard had been killed, and 
 where she had the sad satisfaction of an interview with 
 her cousin Orleans, then a prisoner of state in that 
 fortress. About the first of May the King and Queen 
 entered the metropolis, Henry having gone forward 
 to conduct his spouse to London. 
 
 Parliament met at Westminster on the day follow- 
 ing their return. The King, dressed in the habiliments 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 443 
 
 of mourning, received them in state, in the Painted 
 Chamber. The deliberations were opened by the 
 Lord Bishop of Durham, then Lord Chancellor, who 
 proceeded to address the Houses on the principal sub- 
 ject to consider which they had been convened. He 
 recapitulated, in glowing terms, the achievements of 
 the King during the last campaign in France ; summed 
 up the conquests which had been made ; depicted the 
 present state of France, which, through God's will, he 
 said, was virtually governed by Henry ; taxed his ut- 
 most powers of eloquence in fulsome praises of Henry; 
 announced the death of the beloved Clarence; de- 
 clared it to be Henry's desire above all things to 
 avenge his brother, and to complete his ascendency 
 over France ; and made known his wish that provision 
 should be made for the good government and peace 
 of the kingdom, that he might confidently once more 
 pass the channel. It was also urged with much ear- 
 nestness on the estates by the court party, that they 
 should provide the King with funds, and make other 
 favorable legislation to enable him to cope effectually 
 with the Dauphin. 
 
 Henry had never been more thoroughly popular 
 throughout England than he was at that time. They 
 could pardon his immense losses of men and money, 
 in the reflection that on his head, the first of English 
 kings, rested the diadem of the Valois. Success had 
 confirmed their confidence in his ability and persever- 
 ance, and had intensified their love for his heroic and 
 manly nature. These considerations, and the exas- 
 peration which was felt at the death of "valiant 
 Clarence," actuated the Parliament in their response 
 to the King's demands. A fifteenth was promptly 
 voted. To all who would advance money to the King, 
 
444 HENRY THE FIFTO. 
 
 the legislature granted full government security ; and 
 they confirmed the loans already made. The Convo- 
 cation of the Established Church met on the fifth, and 
 hastened to devote a tenth of the revenues of the 
 clergy to the King's service. Cardinal Beaufort, who, 
 during his long and laborious public life, had amassed 
 a splendid fortune, had already lent Lis nephew one 
 hundred and sixty thousand sterling, and now added 
 ten thousand more. Numerous other persons of rank 
 and wealth came forward, and added their contribu- 
 tions to the King's coffers. Henry, now assured of an 
 exchequer competent to maintain such a campaign as 
 he had projected, proceeded to make every preparation 
 for completing the levies, organizing his army, and for 
 his departure to France. He was, as ever, active and 
 impatient of delay. He wished to retrieve, at the 
 earliest moment, the dimmed honor of English sol- 
 diers. He felt keenly, more keenly than ever, the loss 
 of Clarence; it was a juncture in which Clarence, 
 above all others, could have come to his assistance. 
 A royal proclamation to his faithful people of Eng- 
 land was issued late in May, calling upon them to 
 join the King's standard, and march under his lead 
 against the Dauphin. When the levies and recruits 
 had been collected, Henry had the satisfaction to as- 
 certain that his army amounted to twenty -four thou- 
 sand infantry, and four thousand cavalry. He had 
 never led so large a force to France. He -was able to 
 provide them with arms and equipments, to give them 
 four months' pay in advance, and to collect ample 
 food with which to sustain them. To the Duke of 
 Bedford he committed his young Queen, who was to 
 abide at Windsor during his absence; and the same 
 prince was created Regent, in which office he had be- 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 445 
 
 fore been so successful. Katharine was expected soon 
 to give birth to a child, and Henry warned her not to 
 permit his heir to be born at Windsor. He had, it is 
 said, a dark foreboding, derived from certain astrologi- 
 cal signs, that trouble would come upon the King 
 who should first see the light within that royal cas- 
 tle. The Queen, however, did not participate in his 
 superstition, and heedless of the warning, took up her 
 abode at Windsor ; where, as we shall see, the unfor- 
 tunate successor of Henry was born. Henry, besides 
 the English levies, ordered a conscription in Norman- 
 dy, where his officers had complete sway. He further 
 made a treaty with James King of Scotland, by which 
 the latter was to furnish a force and assume its active 
 command. James, accompanied by the now aged 
 Douglas, joined the main army, and was assigned to a 
 division. Some delay ensued in the concentration of 
 the forces and supplies at Dover ; and in the interval 
 Hemy devoted himself to religious contemplation and 
 services at the cathedral of Canterbury ; where, too, 
 he may have sought inspiration from the tomb of the 
 Black Prince, who reposed beneath its stately dome. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Had I as many sons as I hare hairs, 
 I would not wish them to a fairer death." 
 
 THE LAST CAMPAIGN AND DEATH OF HENRY THE FIFTH-CONCLUSION. 
 
 On the tenth day of June, 1421, Henry the Fifth 
 embarked from the shores of England, never to be- 
 hold again his beloved country. He had for the last 
 time sat in state in the Painted Chamber; knelt at 
 the high altar of St. Paul's ; presided over the revels 
 at Westminster and Windsor ; ridden through the 
 familiar streets amid the shouts of his faithful people. 
 He departed in high health and hope; the prospect 
 had never seemed so fail*; he was going to put a 
 climax to his past glories — to exterminate his only 
 remaining foe. With cheerful spirit he stepped upon 
 his barge, and smilingly he looked back upon the 
 chalky cliffs, as she receded from the shore. When 
 he came back, it was to be beneath a shroud, sur- 
 rounded by the sombre pomp of funereal obsequy, 
 borne home to rest forever by his loving priests and 
 barons, followed by the faltering steps of a young and 
 most wretched Queen. The army disembarked on the 
 following morning at Ilarfleur, and on the l:?th Henry 
 reached his Norman capital of Rouen. The Dauphin 
 Charles had already resumed offensive operations. 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 447 
 
 Emerging from Anjou with a recuperated army, lie 
 had advanced toward Paris, and was, at the time of 
 Henry's arrival, laying siege to Chartres, which obsti- 
 nately resisted his further progress. The approach of 
 the Dauphin had given the Parisians great solicitude, 
 but confidence was restored by the appearance of the 
 fresh English army, under the King Kegent himself. 
 Henry sent a message to the garrison of Chartres to 
 hold out till he could come up, and with his usual 
 promptitude closely followed, with all his forces, on 
 the heels of his couriers. He marched rapidly through 
 Beauvais, Gisors, and Mantes, and avoiding Paris, 
 directed his steps straight toward Chartres. The 
 Dauphin was not so foolhardy as to await the attack 
 of so formidable an army, and hastily retired from 
 before the town toward the river Loire. Philip of Bur- 
 gundy had been operating with a mixed force against 
 some towns which held out for the Dauphin, and 
 having achieved uniform success, joined Henry near 
 Chartres. " Our brother of Burgundy," writes the 
 King to his Council, " we find right a trusty, loving, 
 and faithful brother unto us in all things." 
 
 Henry now divided his army into three divisions. 
 With one he himself was to pertinaciously follow up 
 the movements of the Dauphin in Touraine. The sec- 
 ond was put under the command of Burgundy, and was 
 to defend the metropolis. The third was intrusted to 
 King James of Scotland, who was to lay siege to Dreux, 
 and reduce whatever other towns remained in the 
 power of the Armagnacs, and finally reunite his column 
 with Henry. The King attempted in vain to bring 
 Charles to an open engagement ; the prince was a 
 cunning strategist, and gave his adversary no oppor- 
 tunity to mass against him overwhelming odds in the 
 
448 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 field. Henry advanced into Touraine ; Charles retired 
 in good order into Orleans. Henry pursued, but an- 
 other retreat foiled him, and the Armagnacs next 
 appeared in the county of Berri. Meanwhile James 
 had reduced Dreux, and had rejoined the main body. 
 Henry now ordered Burgundy to keep a jealous watch 
 upon the Dauphin, and his army being exhausted and 
 sick from the unusual heat, he returned deliberately to 
 Paris. 
 
 Philip was more successful. Having for some time 
 dogged the movements of the Dauphin, he at last forced 
 him to receive battle at Blanche Tache, where he defeat- 
 ed him Avith great loss. The blow was so decisive as to 
 render it unnecessaiy to pursue the campaign very ac- 
 tively any further for the present. Henry was received 
 at Paris with an apparently sincere welcome. The 
 French court doubtless much preferred him to Prince 
 Charles, against whom the deadly hatred of his mother 
 burned as fiercely as ever. The Parisians appeared to 
 be content as long as they could pursue their avoca- 
 tions without interruption ; and such Avas their loA'e of 
 chivalric prestige, that they looked upon Henry with 
 unmixed admiration. As the husband of their favor- 
 ite princess, also, he Avas regarded with especial favor. 
 Still the King Avas well aware that only a continuance 
 of his popularity, a wise moderation in administration, 
 and concessions to the peculiar humor of the French 
 character, Avould preserve the power Avhich he had 
 acquired by force of arms. He had not only to re- 
 frain from oppressive measures, he had to take meas- 
 ures which Avould be positively Aveleome. It was as 
 hard a burden as the French people could bear in 
 patience, to be subjected to the yoke of a foreign con- 
 queror; it Avas his part, and lie clearly saw and acted 
 
HEOT3Y THE FEFTH. 449 
 
 upon it, to make that yoke as invisible as possible. 
 "We therefore discover in his actions, at no time, either 
 burdensome taxation, individual oppression, or more 
 than a necessary restriction of popular liberty. His 
 administration, carried on in the name of Charles the 
 Sixth, was eminently mild and paternal. His levies 
 and supplies were drawn, even though with great 
 difficulty, from England ; the French were obliged only 
 to support the expenses of their own civil government. 
 Henry constantly paid the most critical attention to 
 the administration of justice, and the prompt enforce- 
 ment of law and order. France had never, perhaps, 
 known such an excellent system of judicature as their 
 English Kegent had instituted and sustained against 
 formidable obstacles with all his power. There was, 
 unquestionably, more constitutional order throughout 
 the country than ever before, or for centuries after. 
 Restitution was made as far as practicable for the 
 ravages and devastations of war. The peaceful em- 
 ployments of the peasantry were encouraged with 
 assiduity. The tyranny of feudal barons was checked. 
 Able Frenchmen were chosen to conduct the depart- 
 ments of government. Even conspirators against the 
 regency, nay, conspirators against the life of both 
 sovereigns, received gentle punishment, and received 
 pardons at the hands of their intended victim. Pros- 
 perity was once more restoring to war-stricken France 
 her fair and fruitful resources, and her gentle hills 
 and broad fields began again to smile under this sun 
 of Lancaster. There can be no better proof of Henry's 
 success as a statesman, than that no revolt, hardly a 
 murmur, arose against him, a usurper and an English- 
 man, from a people who had been born amid insur- 
 rections, who had been taught that treason was often 
 
 29 
 
450 HENBY THE FIFTH. 
 
 virtuous, whose whole life had passed amid war, tu- 
 mult, and anarchy, and who sought their pleasure in 
 real dramas of assassination and fraternal bloodshed. 
 To reduce a foreign and chronic insurrection to order 
 and submission to the sovereign will, was his great 
 task ; and this he did whilst still assuming the per- 
 sonal command at the seat of war. No prince of an- 
 cient or modern history undertook a more elaborate 
 work, or brought what they have undertaken to a 
 more successful conclusion. The court at the LouvTe, 
 at the time of this second sojourn of Henry at the me- 
 tropolis, still far outshone that at the Hotel St. Paul. 
 The French nobles and courtiers still preferred the 
 sunshine of his smile, and still recognized in him the 
 true arbiter of knighthoods, vice royalties, and pen- 
 sions. Charles was leading, on the whole, a comfort- 
 able life at his palace, existing in the depths of soli- 
 tude, in the midst of his subjects. Isabella, though fond 
 of ostentation and excitement, was fonder of revenge, 
 and was complacent in her seclusion, comforted in the 
 knowledge of the Dauphin's discomfiture. To Henry, 
 the homage which he received in Paris was indifferent, 
 and when he had completed his schemes of adminis- 
 tration, he was impatient to resume his martial life. 
 
 The town of Meaux, but a few leagues from Paris, 
 still held out, supplied by a strong Dauphinist gar- 
 rison, and confident of its ability to resist the Eng- 
 lish and the Burgundians. Its fortress was built 
 upon a solid cliff overhanging the river Maine, and 
 was defended by double ramparts. The Bastard de 
 Xaurus, perhaps the most intrepid of the Dauphin's 
 lieutenants, was in command ; under him were about 
 one thousand men. Karly in October Henry led his 
 army thither, and disposed them for a siege, which he 
 
HENEY THE FIFTH. 451 
 
 was well aware would be far from an easy one. From 
 this time up to the last of the following April, the 
 garrison firmly maintained their ground. The opera- 
 tions were of that desultory nature which such occa- 
 sions usually present, little more being attemped by 
 the besieging forces than to starve out resistance by 
 persistency of adhesion. One attack, indeed, was made 
 upon the chateau by the English, which signally failed 
 with great loss of life. During the siege several of 
 Henry's best generals were killed in the skirmishes 
 and sallies which attend on desultory warfare — Lord 
 Clifford, the Earl of Dorset, and the Earl of "Worcester. 
 Finding the resistance more formidable than he had 
 expected, the King appealed to the Emperor Sigismund 
 for aid, but no substantial response was made to it. 
 
 Whilst engaged in conducting the operations of 
 Meaux, Henry learned that Queen Katharine had 
 given birth to a son, on the sixth of December. His 
 first question was, where was the boy born? On 
 being told at Windsor Castle, he is said to have 
 turned sorrowfully to his chamberlain, LordFitz Hugh, 
 and said : " My Lord, Henry of Monmouth shall reign 
 but a short time, and shall acquire much ; but Henry 
 of Windsor shall reign long, and lose all ! " Thus 
 say the old chroniclers ; whether such a prophecy was 
 ever made, however, is very doubtful. At the time 
 of the birth, Katharine had about her many country- 
 women and near friends, among others the Princess 
 Jacqueline of Holland, who had just run away from 
 her bridegroom, whom she detested, taken refuge in 
 England, and, as rumor had it, had fallen violently in 
 love with the graceful and courtly Humphrey of Glou- 
 cester. Early in the spring Henry desired Katharine 
 to join him with the infant in France. Before, how- 
 
452 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 over, she started for her native country, she caused 
 her child to be christened. He was named after his 
 absent father, Henry; and, under the title of Henry 
 the Sixth, he afterward passed a long and tempestuous 
 reign, ending his melancholy career in the mysterious 
 dungeons of the Tower. John Duke of Bedford, Henry 
 Cardinal Beaufort, and the Princess Jacqueline stood 
 as his sponsors at the christening font. This cere- 
 mony over, the Queen made ready to join her hus- 
 band in France. 
 
 In the latter part of April Meaux surrendered to 
 the pertinacious siege of the English arms. Its capit- 
 ulation was followed by that of the contiguous dis- 
 trict, and Henry now occupied the French territory 
 north of the ^oire, except portions of the counties of 
 Maine, Picardy, Anjou, a few fortresses in the Isle of 
 France, and Guise. Brittany was passive under the 
 engagements of a truce. The Dauphin, however, was 
 by no means inclined to give up the contest. He still 
 held many chateaux in the north, and all the domain 
 below the Loire was either his, or was unoccupied by 
 his enemy. Henry made a treaty Avith the Count de 
 Foix, a powerful southern baron, by which the latter 
 undertook to conquer Languedoc and its contiguous 
 counties. About the same time embassies were de- 
 spatched to the Emperor and the King of Portugal 
 for assistance. It was now that Queen Katharine 
 landed at Harfleur, on the 21st of May, 142-2. The 
 Regent Bedford, commanding the new levy of twenty 
 thousand combatants, acted as her escort. So great 
 an augmentation of his force promised a final and 
 complete success to Henry's campaign. The Kim;- 
 was engaged in perfecting the occupation of the for- 
 tresses in the vicinity of Meaux, when he learned that 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 453 
 
 Katharine and Bedford were on French soil. He has- 
 tened with his guard of honor to meet her, and he 
 joined her at the castle of Vincennes. The King and 
 Queen of France also came out of Paris to welcome 
 their daughter, and she was received on all sides with 
 such demonstrations of affection as to "bring tears to 
 her eyes. The Kings and Queens of England and" 
 France entered Paris surrounded by a brilliant cor- 
 tege, on Whitsun eve, May 30th. On the following 
 day a great feast was held at the Louvre, which con- 
 tinued to be the Regent's residence, in celebration of 
 the happy return of Katharine the Fair. "Queen 
 Katharine," says Monstrelet, " sat at table gloriously 
 apparelled, having her crown on her head. The Eng- 
 lish princes and nobles were partakers with the great 
 lords of France at this feast, each seated according to 
 his rank, while the tables were covered with the rich- 
 est viands and wines." Near her sat Henry ; and be- 
 low, the King her father. Henry now laid a heavy 
 tax upon the city of Paris, to discharge the civil ex- 
 penses of the State. That mercurial people bore this 
 without resistance, a certain proof that Henry's re- 
 gency was far from unpopular. A conspiracy, indeed, 
 against his life, was discovered, before it ripened to 
 action, by accident ; but it by no means involved the 
 inhabitants in general. The King's army had been 
 much reduced by the weary sieges, the long marches, 
 and the unhealthy climate to which they had been 
 subject. It was now replenished by the twenty thou- 
 sand who had come over with the Duke of Bedford. 
 
 But the days of the illustrious monarch, whose 
 incessant activity had achieved and was still achieving 
 so much, were numbered. Already, before he left the 
 camp to embrace once more his beloved Queen, the 
 
454 IIENEY THE FIFTH. 
 
 exhaustion consequent upon the wasting toil of years, 
 had begun to prey upon his constitution. He found 
 himself no longer able to bear long-continued fatigue. 
 He became nervous, excitable, restless. His sleep was 
 irregular, and did not refresh the body. The appetite 
 was slow. Exposure and endurance had broken down 
 "that compact and wiry system, which, had. it not been 
 carelessly abused, would have held out long and well. 
 Entirely unconscious of the gravity of his illness, he 
 had disdained to discover the state of his health to 
 others ; had shaken off every appearance of it, and had 
 joined Avith forced zest in the feasts and pageants 
 which had welcomed Katharine to the city of her 
 birth. The weeks succeeding her arrival he devoted 
 partly to the civil administration, and partly in the 
 effort to recuperate, by rest, a wholesome diet, and 
 moderate exercise, his declining energies. He con- 
 tinued to take a vivid interest in every movement 
 of his armies, and in every measure of civil policy, 
 and employed himself more than was good for him in 
 the mental labor necessary to cany on the government. 
 The Dauphin, after the discomfiture of his forces 
 in the north, gathered his scattered columns together, 
 and advanced upon the dominions of the Duke of 
 Burgundy in the southwest. Taking advantage of 
 the absence of Henry and his army, he proceeded along 
 the north bank of the Loire, and first took the town 
 of La Charite. Then penetrating Burgundy, he laid 
 siege to Cone, a formidable and important fortress. 
 Philip was hastening forward to defend his country, 
 but did not arrive in time to prevent a conditional 
 promise of the garrison to surrender. They agreed to 
 capitulate to the Dauphin, if they were not relieved 
 at a time appointed. It was also .-.greed that, before 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 455 
 
 that time should arrive, the hostile forces should en- 
 gage in. the open field, for possession of the town. 
 Burgundy sent messengers to the King of England, 
 informing him of the peril, and urging him for prompt 
 assistance. Henry responded at once that the Eng- 
 lish forces should reenforce those of Burgundy with- 
 out delay. Bedford, at the head of the troops which 
 he had conducted from England, advanced rapidly 
 toward the scene of conflict, and effected a junction 
 with Philip. Meanwhile, certain levies which the 
 Duke had ordered in his own dominions, had already 
 filled his ranks with fresh battalions. Philip led this 
 powerful army straightway toward the besieger of 
 Cone ; but the crafty Dauphin, no less cautious than 
 active, escaped impending annihilation by retiring in 
 orderly retreat westward into the county of Berri. 
 King Henry, when he sent forward Bedford with re- 
 enforcements, had announced his own intention to fol- 
 low speedily, and to take personal command of the 
 united forces. 
 
 It was now August. The heats of summer coming 
 on, had produced an unfavorable effect upon the King, 
 and had weakened his system with a rapidity which had 
 become alarming. Disease began to ripen from the 
 exhausted constitution. The troubles of the body 
 began to take definite and serious shape. The King 
 does not, however, appear to have been aware of his 
 immediate danger. "When the army started, he found 
 himself too weak to take personal command. But he 
 considered the weakness as but temporary, and, in the 
 buoyancy of his spirit, never dreamed but that he 
 would, in a few days, be able to put himself at the 
 head of his soldiers. One morning, he thought himself 
 well enough to travel ; and, impatient of inaction when 
 
456 ITENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 there was to be a contest, lie announced that he would 
 set out that day to join the army. He proceeded to 
 Senlis, accompanied by Katharine, the King and Queen 
 of France, and a numerous suite. At that town he 
 parted from his Queen, and, leaving the court behind, 
 went slowly forward to Melun, a little beyond which 
 the army was posted. Before leaving Senlis he had 
 experienced a deadly attack of his disease, but had 
 resisted it desperately, and for the moment had recov- 
 ered the use of his sinews. At Melun he assumed his 
 full armor, buckled on his war-sword, and prepared 
 to make his appearance before his faithful columns, 
 near by. Finding himself unable to mount his horse, 
 he ordered a litter to be brought, and thought, reclin- 
 ing upon it, to be carried to the front of his army, 
 before they engaged with the enemy. His malady, 
 however, now became quite uncontroUable. A fistula, 
 mortal in its effects, attacked him. The utmost reso- 
 lution he could summon to his breast did not avail 
 him to ward off the encroachment of the disease. Al- 
 though his life appeared to be in imminent danger, it 
 was with infinite reluctance that he gave up the hope of 
 reaching the field of battle. Even whilst death hovered 
 over him, his heroic nature felt a keen disappointment. 
 At last he ordered the bearers of his litter to convey 
 him back over the road whither he had come. Queen 
 Katharine had already returned to her favorite resi- 
 dence, the chateau of Vineennes ; Charles and Isabella 
 were in Paris. Henry was carried by easy stages to 
 Vineennes, where she who was yet a bride, received, 
 in tears, her stricken husband. Isabella went thither 
 in haste; when she; learned (lie gloomy tidings of Hen- 
 ry's extremity; and there mother and daughter, with 
 every tender ollice which womanly solicitude could 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 457 
 
 invent, busied themselves about the couch of the dy- 
 ing monarch. The physicians were unanimous in the 
 opinion that the disease was mortal. The sufferer 
 himself seems before to have come to that conclusion. 
 The Duke of Bedford had just occupied Cone, 
 when a courier announced to him the dangerous re- 
 lapse of his brother. Leaving the army in the com- 
 mand of Burgundy, he hastened to Henry's bedside. 
 When his brothers and nearest friends had arrived, 
 the King, being convinced that his worldly career was 
 nearly ended, summoned them to his bedside, and 
 addressed them in a few simple and pathetic words. 
 " I am come," he said, " to the end of a life, which, 
 though short, has yet' been glorious, and employed to 
 advance the good and honor of my people. I confess 
 it has been spent in war and blood; yet, since the 
 only motive of that war was to vindicate my rights, 
 after I had ineffectually tried milder methods, the 
 guilt of all the miseries it has occasioned belongs not 
 to me, but to my enemies. As death never appeared 
 formidable to me in so many battles and sieges, so 
 now, without horror, I regard it, making its gradual 
 approach. And since it is the will of my Creator 
 now to put a period to my day, I cheerfully submit 
 myself to His will." He then proceeded to dispose of 
 those affairs of his realms which needed his last direc- 
 tion. He spoke with regret of the fact that he had 
 not been permitted to end the existing war ; he re- 
 gretted, too, that his son and successor was yet an in- 
 fant. He appointed his brother Humphrey, the Duke 
 of Gloucester, Regent of England. The Regency of 
 France during the prince's minority was to be ten- 
 dered to the Duke of Burgundy, and, in case he de- 
 clined, to John, Duke of Bedford Henry Cardinal 
 
458 HENRY TItE FIFTH. 
 
 Beaufort was designated as young Henry's guardian, 
 and the Earl of "Warwick as his preceptor. The dying 
 monarch expressed in fervid terms his confidence in 
 the integrity and affection of his brothers. He was 
 assured that no rivalry or ambition would entice them 
 from their harmony of action, and their duty toward 
 the heir-apparent. He earnestly recommended to them 
 to cultivate the friendship and gratitude of Philip of 
 Burgundy, rightly surnamed the Good. He urged upon 
 them the necessity of retaining Orleans and the other 
 princes as prisoners in England, until his son should 
 arrive at an age when he could successfully maintain 
 his sovereignty. He then dismissed his friends with his 
 blessing. He next devoted himself to the making of 
 his will, and by that instrument made provision that 
 his own debts and those of his father's debts which 
 were yet unpaid, should be liquidated from his privy- 
 purse.* Having thus concluded all his worldly mat- 
 ters, he serenely approached the solemn thoughts 
 which religion enjoined on those about to depart to 
 another world. He summoned his physicians to his 
 bedside, and in a calm voice asked them how long he 
 might expect to live. They avoided a direct answer, 
 and said, " Sire, the issue is with God." But he per- 
 sisted, and commanded them with earnestness to tell 
 him truly how near the mortal hour was. Thus 
 pressed, they drew apart for a moment in whispered 
 consultation ; then one of them advancing, and falling 
 on his knees at the foot of the couch, with tears in his 
 eyes, exclaimed : " Sire, think of your soul ; for, with- 
 out a miruc.lt>, we think you cannot survive two hours." 
 No emotion was visible upon the placid countenance 
 of the sufferer, as he thus learned the certainty of imme- 
 
 * Ehuhura. 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 459 
 
 diate dissolution. With a cheerful voice lie ordered 
 his confessor, chaplain, and priests to attend him, that 
 the last rites of the Church might he performed. The 
 ministers of religion, in their sacred habiliments, sur- 
 rounded the dying King, and the solemn and impos- 
 ing sacrament of the extreme unction was administered 
 to him. Near by stood the afflicted Queen, lovely in 
 her tears, about to be bereft of a husband who had 
 ever been tender, and whose affection toward her had 
 never waned. The brothers of Henry, who were 
 strongly attached to him, were there, and the Queen 
 of France. It was indeed a sombre moment. The 
 conqueror and hero dej)arting from earth with a cheer- 
 ful and quiet spirit, receiving at the hands of the 
 Church he had loved so well and defended so faith- 
 fully, her last maternal benediction and absolution ; 
 this was the sad and beautiful spectacle. 
 
 When he had taken his last communion, he re- 
 quested the priests to chant together the seven peni- 
 tential psalms of David. When their low voices rose 
 with " Build thou the walls of Jerusalem," * Henry, 
 struck by the passage, bade them stop. Raising him- 
 self from his bed, andelevating his clear voice, he said, 
 " I declare to you, on the faith of a dying man, that it 
 hath been my fixed purpose, after completing this 
 French conquest, to undertake a crusade against the 
 infidels, and to deliver Jerusalem from their dominion, 
 had it pleased my Creator to lengthen my days." The 
 priests then proceeded with the chant. Observing 
 Katharine to weep bitterly, the King turned to his 
 brother Bedford, and in a low voice, whispered: 
 " Comfort my dear wife, the most afflicted creature 
 living." Soon after, the chant ceased ; and, whilst the 
 
 • Psalm LI. 
 
460 nENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 wife find brothers bent over the couch, the spirit of 
 Henry the Victorious passed gently away. The mo- 
 ment of his departure, so serene was his countenance, 
 was not perceptible. There was no struggle, not even 
 a sigh. The breath gradually ceased, until the still 
 heart and pulse announced that Henry the Sixth was 
 King of England. Henry had fallen to sleep under 
 the soothing spell of the sacred music, and death 
 seemed but a continuation of the slumber. 
 
 The narrative which is now concluded has been 
 in vain, if it has not illustrated that, upon that 
 death-bed, passed away such greatness of soul and 
 mind as is rarely discovered in the ages which, from 
 their turmoil and obscurity, have been called by the 
 historians the dark ages. The death-scene was a fit- 
 ting end to such a life. It was, indeed, a theme which 
 might inspire the loftiest flights of the greatest poets. 
 Still in the spring-time of an active life ; a conqueror 
 in the full blaze of his triumph ; a sovereign the idol 
 of his people ; the husband of a young, beautiful, and 
 accomplished wife ; the father of an infant heir, whom 
 he had never looked upon ; he submitted to the divine 
 summons without a murmur, with that calm intre- 
 pidity with which he had shone so brightly on the 
 battle-field; resigned to the call of Heaven; hopeful 
 of an immortality vastly more glorious than the im- 
 mortality of fame. But few princes whose early lives 
 have promised much, have fulfilled the promise in 
 their later years. Henry seems to have constantly 
 progressed in the admiration and love of his people. 
 Precocious in youth, giving bright hope at his acces- 
 sion, he at thirty-three had filled the record of a reign 
 splendid beyond precedent, vigorous, statesmanlike, 
 momentous (<> the destiny of Europe. The malady 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 461 
 
 which was fatal to him is not certain from contempo- 
 raneous accounts. It is variously asserted to have 
 been St. Anthony's fire, pleurisy, and fistula. There 
 are not wanting French sages who assert it to have 
 been no special disease, but the direct visitation of the 
 vengeance of God for his many wars. It seems to be 
 best authenticated that it was -a fistula, beyond the 
 power of the physicians of those days to master, pro- 
 duced by the constant strain upon the physical system. 
 The funeral of King Henry the Fifth is said to 
 have been more elaborately splendid than had been 
 accorded to any preceding sovereign of England. The 
 body, having been embalmed, was enclosed in a leaden 
 coffin, and escorted by a procession of torches to the 
 stately resting-place of the Kings of France, the Ca- 
 thedral, of St. Denis. His bowels were taken from 
 the corpse and buried in the monastery at St. Maur. 
 The Abbots and Chapter of St. Denis came out to 
 meet the funeral cortege, and escorted it to the altar, 
 where the solemn requiem of the dead was chanted 
 by the Cardinal Archbishop of Paris. Thence the 
 procession repaired to Paris, and deposited their sad 
 burden in Notre Dame, until preparations should be 
 made to convey it to England. Queen Katharine 
 herself arranged the plan of the progress through 
 France. When all was ready, a grand cavalcade set 
 out with the King's corpse toward Rouen. The re- 
 mains were placed upon a chariot, with a rich silk 
 canopy overhanging, drawn by six horses of unusual 
 size, and splendidly caparisoned. Each horse was 
 adorned by a princely escutcheon. One bore the arms 
 of St. George ; the second, those of Normandy ; the 
 third, those of King Arthur; the fourth, those of St. 
 Edward ; the fifth, those of France ; and the sixth, the 
 
4G2 IIENEY THE FIFTH. 
 
 united escutcheons of France and England. By the 
 side of the corpse, on a bed covered with vermilion 
 silk embroidered with gold, lay an image of the late 
 King, made of leather, which resembled his person 
 and features ; it was painted to appear like a human 
 body ; upon the head rested an imperial jewelled dia- 
 dem ; the body was enveloped in a robe of purple, 
 fringed with ermine ; the right hand grasped a royal 
 sceptre, and the left a golden orb, surmounted by a 
 cross; the face was uncovered, turned heavenward. 
 The sacred banners of the Saints were borne by the 
 Earl of March, Sir Lewis Kobsart, and other nobles, 
 behind the hearse. James, King of Scotland, followed 
 as chief mourner. The hatchments were carried by 
 twelve soldiers of fame. On either side of the hearse 
 rode five hundred men-at-arms, in black armor, their 
 horses barbed in black, and their lances held with 
 points downward. Near the hearse were many dressed 
 in white, and bearing torches. The princes and lords 
 of the late King's household, attired in the deepest 
 mourning, came after the King of Scotland. The 
 Queen, with her retinue, followed the solemn proces- 
 sion at about a league's distance. "Wherever the cor- 
 tege stopped, masses were sung at Katharine's desire, 
 from dawn until nine in the evening. All alone; the 
 route the inhabitants manifested the wildest and sin- 
 cerest grief. The illustrious dead was likened to the 
 greatest kings, saints, and heroes. The most affec- 
 tionate homage was everywhere paid to his honored 
 corpse. The praise of his exalted virtues was in every 
 mouth. Passing through Abbeville, Ilesdiu (so near 
 Agincourt !), Moiitreuil, and Boulogne, the melancholy 
 train at last arrived at Calais, where vessels, sent out 
 by order of the English Council, awaited its arrival 
 
HENHY THE FIFTH. 463 
 
 to convey the dead monarch and his disconsolate widow 
 to their own realm. 
 
 Everywhere on the route from Dover to London, 
 demonstrations of grief were exhibited by the bereaved 
 subjects of Henry. As the melancholy cortege ap- 
 proached the metropolis, fifteen prelates, wearing the 
 surplices of their sacred order, came out to meet it, 
 surrounded by abbots and priests, and followed by 
 multitudes of the townspeople. During the passage 
 of the corpse through the city, the priests chanted 
 funeral dirges, and each citizen stood at his door with 
 a lighted torch, to indicate his grief and his veneration 
 for the deceased sovereign. The Dukes of Bedford 
 and Gloucester rode as chief mourners beside the fune- 
 ral car. 
 
 With such solemn ostentation was Henry the Fifth 
 borne through his sad metropolis to the great abbey, 
 and laid at the feet of the sainted Edward the Con- 
 fessor. There, in close proximity, already reposed the 
 unfortunate Richard, resting in the midst of his royal 
 ancestors by the magnanimous act of him who was 
 now come to join the silent throng. So, side by side, 
 the deposed and the heir of the deposer lay near to 
 one another, equal in the common bond of death. 
 One, born a king, had died a captive, in disgrace and 
 penury. The other, born a subject, had died the sov- 
 ereign of two kingdoms, and the victor of the most 
 illustrious of conflicts. 
 
 The will of Henry directed that he should be in- 
 terred in "Westminster Abbey, and that over his body 
 there should be made a high place to be ascended 
 by steps, at one end of his tomb, and to be descended 
 in like manner at the other end, in which place the 
 relics were to be laid, and an altar founded. These 
 
4G4 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 directions were accordingly complied with by his suc- 
 cess* >!'.* 
 
 In the records of the " Acts of the Privy Council "' 
 of 1422, the following, to the memory of the King, is 
 inscribed : 
 
 " Departed this life at the Castle of Bois de Vin- 
 cennes, near Paris, on the last day of Auirust, in the 
 year 1422, and the tenth of his reign, the most Chris- 
 tian Champion of the Church, the Bright Beam of 
 Wisdom, the Mirror of Justice, the Unconquered King, 
 the Flower and Pride of all Chivalry— HENRY THE 
 FIFTH, King of England, Heir and Regent of France, 
 and Lord of Ireland." 
 
 * In J. P. No ale's History and Antiquities of the Abbey Church of St. Peter, 
 Westminster, vol. ii., p. 86, is to be found the following description of Henry's 
 tomb : " The ornamental parts of the gates which enclose the tomb are entirely 
 allusive to the armorial insignia of Henry ; and the devices and workmanship of 
 the whole are very curious. The recess in which the tomb is placed is nearly a 
 Bquare, enclosed by iron grates and gates ; the latter open under a handsome 
 pointed arch of stone, surmounted by an elegant arrangement of canopied niches 
 turreted (including statues and other ornaments), and flanked by octagonal 
 towers. The general pattern of the oaken work of the gates consists of small- 
 sized squares, each containing four trefoils ; and their impost, or fascia, is divided 
 into thirteen compartments, which have been painted alternately blue and red; 
 on each blue space were placed three gilded fleurs-de-lis, and on each red space, 
 three gilded lions ; below these, near the middle of the gates, were fixed alter- 
 nately a row of swans, and a row of antelopes ; but only one swan and two ante- 
 lopes are now remaining. The groin of the recess is enriched with fan-work 
 tracery, springing from side piers, including trefoils and quatrefoils among it.* 
 ornaments. There is no particular elegance in the tomb itself, which is divided 
 at the sides, by a kind of duplicated buttress, into three compartments, each con- 
 taining a basement panelling of quatrefoils, surrounded by a deep elliptical arch. 
 ( )n the upper slab lies a headless and otherwise mutilated figure of the King, 
 carved in oak, which is said to have been once covered with fine embroidered and 
 gilded plates of brass ; but these, together with the head, sceptre, and other re- 
 galia, which nre traditionally stilled to luive been of silver, have been gone ever 
 sinco Klizabeth's time. Willi them, also, is said to have been stolen a silver 
 plate, inHcribcd with the following barbarous rhyme : 
 
 " Olix Kiuniinerum, voma Comjuostor n'niin, 
 Urn 1 * Krmupjruin iK-ivjwt, et Hector ooruaL" 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 465 
 
 The salient points of Henry's character are "best 
 illustrated by the record of his eventful career. In 
 estimating them, it is of great importance to keep in 
 mind two things — his birth and education, and the 
 rude age in which he lived. He was the descendant 
 of a spirited and warlike race on the paternal side ; 
 from his mother he inherited a strong religious senti- 
 ment, warmth of feeling, and an amiable and tender 
 disposition. The fusion of these characteristics, added 
 to a genius all his own, made Henry the Fifth the 
 most illustrious, although perhaps not absolutely the 
 greatest, of the Plantagenet Kings. In the three great 
 offices of statesmanship, generalship, and defender of 
 the Church, he exhibited a versatility and complete- 
 ness of ability, which was rare, and, in so young a 
 man, was almost marvellous. As a statesman he was 
 prudent, cautious, comprehensive, provident, fertile in 
 ideas, prompt, and, above all, magnanimous. As a 
 general, he possessed lion-like courage, a perseverance 
 that never faltered, presence of mind, hopefulness, an 
 equal temper, a love of order, and that divine quality 
 of mercy which was open alike to his own soldiers and 
 their adversaries. His private life was pure and de- 
 vout — no blemish against his moral character darkens 
 the page of his history. As a husband, he was more 
 than faithful ; he was tender, he was affectionate, he 
 was constant. Even so young, he was in truth the 
 father of his people. To their glory, more than to his 
 own, he devoted himself. His activity, from infancy 
 to the day of his death, is almost painful to contem- 
 plate. His mind was of that flexible quality which 
 could pass from one subject to another with ease and 
 alacrity. He was wise enough to perceive what was 
 possible, and what was impossible. He saw clearly 
 30 
 
4G6 HENTtY THE FIFTH. 
 
 Lis own destiny. He understood and avoided those 
 errors which had involved preceding Kings. He felt 
 himself to be the soldier of God's favor. To say that 
 he was ambitious, is only to charge upon him a passion 
 from which no person of exalted station was in that 
 age free, and which each could easily justify to him- 
 self without torture of conscience. With a military 
 capacity surpassing that of the most illustrious of his 
 race, he nearly satisfied, just before his death, the 
 highest of his aspirations. To his glory be it said, 
 that he used victory in moderation, was merciful to 
 his enemies, was magnanimous to a conquered people, 
 and brought to that people blessings out of the dis- 
 grace of foreign subjugation. It can be asserted, with- 
 out fear of contradiction, that he was, beyond all com- 
 manders of the middle ages, humane and civilized in 
 his conduct of war. Success failed to intoxicate him ; 
 a young man, he accepted with a serene equanimity 
 alike victory and defeat. He did not believe in his 
 right to the French crown; but he did believe that 
 by possessing it he could enhance the prosperity and 
 glory of the French people. They were torn by fac- 
 tions so bitter and relentless that desolation spread 
 abroad over the land, and every effort to revive the 
 national prosperity was choked by the blood of fratri- 
 cidal war. He would bring peace and union; he 
 would restore even justice ; he would relieve the taxa- 
 tions of blood and money which were draining the re- 
 sources, and bring back the thrifty energy which was 
 the inherent excellence of the people. This, so far as 
 Normandy was concerned, he accomplished. At the 
 time of his death, the haughty provincials of the north 
 had not only been subdued to his arms, but also to 
 the civil enginery which it was his immediate care to 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 467 
 
 establish. Had he not been interrupted by death, he 
 would have done as much for all France ; for he had 
 already proceeded to the administration of his civil 
 policy when he was cut off. He possessed a genius 
 both analytic and constructive : he could pull down ; 
 he could also set up. The fertility of his intellect 
 enabled him to perceive, the energy of his will enabled 
 him to enact, what was immediately necessary to the 
 restoration of the civil status. 
 
 That his success was owing neither to chance nor 
 to superior physical strength, is apparent from the fact 
 that his administrative triumphs equalled, if they did 
 not surpass, his military triumphs. Poor as England 
 was, the taxations to which she was subjected were 
 borne with patience, and the economy of the palace 
 justified their confidence in the King. Powerless as 
 France was, she experienced nothing but mildness and 
 encouragement from the administration of the con- 
 queror. Henry disarmed complaint at home alike by 
 the purity of his morals and conduct, the impartiality 
 of his acts, the forbearance he exercised, his exertions 
 devoted solely to the advancement of his people, and 
 the energy with which every measure was carried to 
 its end ; in France, by his endeavors to restore that 
 unhappy country to blessings which they had almost 
 forgotten, of which they had been deprived by the 
 wicked vassals of their own crown. 
 
 When we add to this union of great military and 
 civil talent, the varied accomplishments, the superior 
 learning, the sincere piety, the cheerful and affection- 
 ate disposition, the frankness, the eloquence, the deli- 
 cacy, the thoughtfulness, the lofty spirit of chivalric 
 honor and justice, the mercifulness and magnanimity 
 which marked King Henry the Fifth, we cannot won- 
 
4G8 IIENEY THE FIFTH. 
 
 dor that a character with such brilliant qualities and 
 so few blemishes has won the admiration of and be- 
 come an example to the generations which have suc- 
 ceeded him. 
 
 No less conspicuous was he in those lighter quali- 
 ties which throw a charm about the career of a re- 
 nowned hero. Elegant, dignified, and graceful in his 
 carriage, quite royal in his manner, impressive in con- 
 versation, modest in language and action, exercising 
 at all times a dominant self-control in word and deed, 
 kind to inferiors, deferential to counsellors, reproving 
 with gentleness, approving with zest, no one ap- 
 proached him but was imbued with his marked supe- 
 riority over others as well in individuality as in rank. 
 His personal beauty heightened yet more the fascina- 
 tion of his presence. 
 
 Lord Brougham, a writer by no means partial to 
 Henry, has thus ably compared him with the victors 
 of Crecy and Poictiers : " When we take either his 
 great grandfather, Edward the Third, or his great- 
 uncle, the Black Prince, with whom to compare him, 
 it must be confessed that we subject him to a trial 
 sufficiently severe. Over both he may be allowed the 
 superiority whether as regards his civil or his militarv 
 capacity. His skill in turning to account the civil 
 dissensions of France was exercised in more diffi- 
 cult circumstances, and was attended with more 
 important results. His domestic administration was 
 more excellent than Edward's, and betokened a dis- 
 position to check malversation and to reform abuses, 
 which no prince since the days of Alfred had ever 
 shown. If ITenry endeavored to league himself with 
 John of Burgundy, the most wicked ruler of his day, 
 the Black Prince actually patronized and enthroned 
 
HENKY THE FIFTH. 469 
 
 Peter the Cruel, a more wicked ruler in a more profli- 
 gate age." 
 
 Another writer,* on International Law, has more 
 lately said : " When Henry the Fifth invaded France, 
 the army was accompanied by stores ; only bread and 
 wine were exacted from the peasants, even when offer- 
 ing resistance ; and orders to the troops forbade inju- 
 ries to property and insults to women." 
 
 The misrepresentations of hostile historians have 
 caused Henry to be generally regarded as a bigot and 
 a persecutor, a blind devotee of Rome, and the patron 
 of ecclesiastical abuses. That he cherished a devoted 
 affection and veneration for the papacy, is true. That 
 he pursued the Lollards with energy, that he yielded 
 up Cobham to prelatical fury, that he set his heel upon 
 reformation in the Church, is also true. Viewed in 
 the light of the nineteenth century, it is a blot upon 
 Henry's career, that he strove to annihilate freedom 
 of religion. But, placing ourselves in the age in 
 which Henry lived, regarding the influences which 
 surrounded him, and considering the events intermin- 
 gled with the acts of the early reformers, we may say 
 that if he was in fault at all, it was because his pro- 
 phetic vision was not long enough to discern the true 
 tendency of his period. It was an age in which there 
 was scarcely a glimpse of freedom of any kind. It 
 was an age when no power was so splendidly main- 
 tained as was the power of Rome. It was an age in 
 which tradition governed the heart, and put the judg- 
 ment to sleep. Henry had received his earliest tute- 
 lage from a tender and beloved mother, whose piety, 
 goodness, and ardent love of Catholicism are the only 
 memorials of her which are yet preserved. He grew 
 
 * President Woolsey. 
 
470 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 up in the society of great and good men, who were 
 attached to the Church by every tie of love and duty. 
 He was surrounded by the most able defenders of the 
 Church. Cardinal Beaufort early implanted in his 
 breast his own strong intellectual affinities, the most 
 absorbing of which was devotion to the Church. 
 Henry's own genius, imaginative, ardent, devout, lov- 
 ing tradition, and admiring the papal power, led him 
 to adopt, in the maturity of his youth, the same views 
 which had already been so constantly urged, first by 
 loving kinswomen, then by venerated counsellors. He 
 believed, in his inmost soul, that the Church of Rome 
 was God's only Church on earth. He regarded the 
 Pope as Christ's vicar, divinely consecrated. He gave 
 an unfaltering adhesion to the sacred dogmas. He 
 looked upon himself as the defender of the true religion, 
 armed with civil power to protect it, and bound by 
 his conscience and his office to maintain it. It was 
 with him a duty which could admit of no compromise. 
 It was his chance of salvation. From such convictions 
 came the result, that he persecuted the Lollards, that 
 he consigned his beloved friend Cobham to the aveng- 
 ing hand of the Church. His whole histoiy shows 
 that he was not prone to tyranny, that he willingly 
 crushed no man. The sincerity of his nature compels 
 us to the belief that he was honest in this, which 
 seems to have been the controlling conviction of his 
 life ; and that when he waged war upon the reformers, 
 he verily believed he was doing God service. That 
 which makes this view more reasonable is, that, min- 
 gled with the spirit of religious reformation in the 
 breast, of Lollards, was a spirit of political rebellion, 
 a spirit of insubordination to the civil authority. It 
 was against rebellions subjects, who threatened the 
 
HENKY THE FIETH. 471 
 
 peace of the throne as well as the integrity of the 
 Church, that Henry continued the persecution begun 
 by his predecessors. The identity of the Lollards 
 with conspirators against the kingdom is left in no 
 doubt by history. In truth, the Lollards doubtless 
 considered the monarchy in the way of religious free- 
 dom, and would have destroyed it, and leagued with 
 malcontents to destroy it, for that reason. While 
 great blame cannot be attached to them for this view 
 (because we recognize the right to secure religious 
 liberty by revolution), it must also be said that the 
 King was justified in using those means which he 
 deemed necessary to preserve his heritage. In these 
 considerations we find the true reasons for the perse- 
 cutions in the reign of Henry the Fifth ; and although 
 we cannot pronounce him to have been guiltless, we 
 cannot hurl against him those anathemas which are 
 the just tributes of indignant peoples to deliberate 
 tyrants. 
 
 The era in which Henry was placed was the tran- 
 sition era between the era of feudalism and the era 
 of monarchy. It had been long since John had bent 
 beneath the combined will of his barons ; the genera- 
 tion was rapidly approaching which should see Louis 
 the Eleventh crushing, one after another, in rapid suc- 
 cession, the sovereign vassals of the French crown. 
 The barons were yet potent — they had ceased to be 
 omnipotent. The personal popularity of Henry — a 
 popularity which never once waned, secured to his 
 crown an obedience which was due to that cause, 
 rather than to the inherent strength of the monarchical 
 principle. His reign anticipated the as yet remote 
 consummation. In him monarchy found so irresistible 
 a champion, that it was perfectly established, only to 
 
472 HENRY THE FIFTH. 
 
 be debased again when a weak successor gave the op- 
 portunity to the great barons to exhibit their yet for- 
 midable power. It is perhaps the highest praise to 
 his reign, as an historical era, that there is nothing to 
 relate of it regarding domestic rebellion and insur- 
 rection, but that its whole story is of prosperity, con- 
 quest, and tremendous accessions of power. Henry 
 was in truth a monarch, and the nation moved behind 
 him, as if animated by a single mind. 
 
 During this reign, the Constitution of England 
 underwent but few changes. The people were satis- 
 fied with their King ; the public attention was almost 
 wholly directed toward France ; the taxes were not 
 oppressive ; law was evenly executed ; no one, unless 
 he were a heretic, was persecuted. The Commons, 
 now advanced to be an organic estate of the realm, 
 saw no occasion to increase their own importance, and, 
 speaking the will of the constituencies, were unani- 
 mous in the support of Henry. Still there are indi- 
 cations that the lower House claimed rights above 
 those conceded in the last reign, which the other 
 powers were not disposed to dispute. There was a 
 progress made, slow and hardly perceptible, but add- 
 ing something to the weight of popular influence. 
 Public intelligence was broadening, institutions of 
 learning were multiplying, and inquiries into abstract 
 ideas had already begun to disturb the reason of the 
 intellectual classes. The germs of the Reformation, 
 of monarchy, of popular power, of a great literature, 
 of a people quick in the race toward enlightenment, 
 are all to be discovered in this reign. Wore it oiu' 
 purpose to outer into a philosophical view of it, it 
 might l)o sliown how those germs wore starting and 
 growing, how far they had grown, at the close of 
 
HENRY THE FIFTH. 473 
 
 Henry's life. The record of that life, if it has been 
 faithfully presented, will suggest many philosophical 
 reflections to the attentive reader ; and it is thought 
 preferable to leave it to the reader to make those in- 
 ferences and receive those lessons, which cannot but 
 be derived from the narrative which is now concluded. 
 It is enough to show how a young King, born and 
 reared in temptation and luxury, avoided the one and 
 eschewed the other; how he remained through life 
 undeflled; how he ruled wisely and well; how he 
 accomplished, by the magnitude and variety of his 
 talents, a conquest which the greatest of his ancestors 
 had in vain attempted; how he was tender to his 
 subjects, and magnanimous to his adversaries; how 
 he was both just and merciful ; how he was generous, 
 large-hearted, and self-forgetful ; how, more than all, 
 he walked in his difficult path with a pure conscience, 
 uprightly and unfalteringly, with his thoughts turned, 
 in the midst of earthly cares the most weighty, toward 
 that heaven which he hoped to reach ; and how, after 
 a career unblemished by any great sin, and abounding 
 in a succession of brilliant triumphs, he laid down 
 patiently to die, just as the highest object of his aspira- 
 tions appeared in view — giving over worldly thoughts 
 without a sigh, and fixing his mind with trustful se- 
 renity and radiant hope upon the unknown hereafter. 
 
 THE END. 
 
Any of these Booka sent free by mail to any address on receipt of price. 
 BE CENT -PUBLICATIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 
 
 4:4:3 and 445 Broadway, New York. 
 
 Mercantile Dictionary. A complete 
 
 vocabulary of the technicalities of Commercial Correspondence, names of Articles 
 of Trade, and Marine Terms, in English, Spanish, and French ; with Geographi- 
 cal Names, Business Letters, and Tables of the Abbreviations in common use in 
 the three languages. By I. De Veitelle." Square 12mo. Half morocco. 
 Price, $3.00. 
 
 " A book of most decided necessity to all merchants, filling up a want long felt."— Journal of 
 Commerce. 
 
 " It is undoubtedly a very important and serviceable work." — Indianapolis Journal. 
 
 The Mystical Rose ; or, Mary of Naza- 
 
 reth, the Lily of the House of David. "I am the Eose of Sharon and the Lily 
 of the Valley." — Canticles. " Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou 
 excellest them all." — Solomon. "Blessed art thou among women." — Gabriel. 
 By Maeie Josephene. 12mo. Cloth extra. Price, $2.00.j 
 
 " This elegant and charming book has just appeared ; it is worthy of a place in every family." 
 — Mellows Tails Times. 
 
 " Its strong devotional character will commend it to many readers. 1 ' — Illinois Slate Journal. 
 
 Cousin Alice : A Memoir of Alice B. 
 
 HAVEN. 12mo, pp. 392, with portrait. Cloth. Price, $1.75. 
 
 " This is a record of deep interest, compiled with taste, skill, and judgment." — Christian Times. 
 
 " Exceedingly interesting," — Eastern Argus. 
 
 " "Written with, great vigor and simplicity." — Boston Post. 
 
 A Report of the Debates and Proceed- 
 
 ings in the Secret Sessions of the Conference Convention for Proposing Amend- 
 ments to the Constitution of the United States, held at Washington, D. C, in 
 February, A. D. 1861. By L. E. Chittenden, one of the Delegates. Large 
 Svo. 626 pp. Cloth. Price, $5.00. 
 
 " The only authentic account of its proceedings." — Indianapolis Journal. 
 " It sheds floods of light upon the real causes and impulses of secession and rebellion."— Chris- 
 iian Times. 
 
 " "Will be found an invaluable authority." — New Yorh Tribune. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 The Conflict and the Victory of Life. 
 
 Memoir of Mita. CAROLINE P. KEITH, Missionary of the Protestant Episco- 
 pal Church to India. Edited by her brother, William C. Tennev. " This 
 is the victory that ovorcometh the world, even our faith." — St. John. " Thanks 
 be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.' 1 — Hi. Paid. 
 With portrait. 12mo. Price, $2.00. 
 
 41 A work of real Interest and instruction. 1 ' — Buffalo Courier. 
 
 " Hooks like this are valuable as Incentives to good, as monuments of Christian zeal, and as 
 contributions to the practical history of the Church. " — CongregalionalUt. 
 
 Sermons Preached at the Church of St. 
 
 Paul the Apostle, New York, during the year 18G4. Second Edition. 18mo. 
 406 pp. Cloth. Price, $1.50. 
 
 "They are all stirring and vigorous, and possess more than usual merit."— Methodist Protec- 
 tant. 
 
 " These sermons are short and practical, and admirably calculated to Improve and Instruct 
 those who read them." — Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 The Management of Steel, including j 
 
 Forging, Hardening, Tempering, Annealing, Shrinking, and Expansion, also the | 
 Case-Hardening of Iron. By Geokoe Ede, employed at the Royal Gun Fac- 
 tories' Department, Woolwich Arsenal. First American from Second London I 
 Edition. 12mo. Cloth. Price, 60 cents. 
 
 " This work must bo valuable to machinists and workers of Iron and SteeL"— Portland Courier. ; 
 
 " An instructive oBsay ; it Imparts a great deal of valuable Information connected with the ' 
 making of metal." — Hartford Courant. 
 
 Chateau Frissac ; or, Home Scenes in 
 
 France. By Olive Logan, Authoress of "Photographs of Paris Life,'' etc., etc 
 Large 12mo. Cloth. Price, $2.00. 
 
 " The vivacity and ease of her style are rarely attained in works of this kind and its scenes and 
 Incidents are skilfully wrought." — Chicago Journal. 
 
 " The story Is lively and entertaining."— Springfield Republican. 
 
 The Clever Woman of the Family. By 
 
 tho Author of "The Heir of Rodclyffe," "Heartsease," "The Youns* Step- 
 mother," etc., etc. With twolve illustrations. 8vo. paper, $1.50; cloth, 
 $2.00. 
 
 " A charming story ; fresh, vigorous, and lifelike* as tho works of this author always are. We 
 nr* Inclined to think that most readers will agroo with us In pronouncing It the best which the 
 author has yet produced. "—Portland Press. 
 
 u A now story hy this popular writer Is always welcome, Tho ' Clover Woman of the Family,* 
 In ono of her host; bright, sharp, and piquant. "— il<ir{ford Couraitt. 
 
 " Ono of tho cleverest, moat, genial novels of tho times. It la written with proat force and fer- 
 vor. Tho clmrarti'i'H i»m sketched with great skill." — Troy Times. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 The Trial. More Links of the Daisy 
 
 Chain. By the Author of "The Heir of Redclyffe." Two volumes in one. 
 
 Large 12mo. 390 pp. Cloth, price $1.75. 
 
 " The plot is well developed ; the characters are finely sketched ; it is a capital novel."— iVo^a- 
 dence Journal. 
 
 *' It is the best novel we have seen for many months." — Montreal Gazette. 
 "It is marked by all the fascinating qualities of the works that preceded it. * * * Equal to 
 any of her former novels." — Commercial. 
 
 Too Strange Not to be True. A Tale. 
 
 By Lady Georgiana Fullerton, Authoress of "Ellen Middleton," "Ladybird," 
 etc. Three volumes in one. "With Illustrations. 8vo. Paper, $1.50 ; cloth, 
 $2.00. 
 
 "This work, which is by far the best of the fair and gifted Authoress, is the most interesting 
 book of fiction that has appeared for years. " — Cairo News. 
 , "It is a Btrange, exciting, and extremely interesting tale, well and beautifully written. It is 
 likely to become one of the most popular novels of the piesent day." — Indianapolis Gazette. 
 
 " A story in which truth and fiction are skilfully blended. It has quite an air of truth, and 
 lovers of the marvellous will find in it much that is interesting." — Boston Recorder. 
 
 What I Saw on the West Coast of South 
 
 and North America, and at the Hawaiian Islands. By H. "Willis Baxley, M.D. 
 "With numerous Illustrations. 8vo. 632 pp. Cloth. Price, $4.00. 
 
 " With great power of observation, much Information, a rapid and graphic style, the author 
 presents a vivid and instructive picture. He is free in his strictures, sweeping in his judgments, 
 but his facts are unquestionable, and his motives and his standard of judgment just."— Alb any 
 Argus. 
 
 "His work will be found to contain a greal deal of valuable information, many suggestive 
 reflections, and much graphic and interesting descriptions."— Portland Express. 
 
 The Conversion of the Koman Empire. 
 
 The Boyle Lectures for the year 1864. Delivered at the Chapel Eoyal, White- 
 hall, by Charles Merivale, B.D., Rector of Lawford, Chaplain to the Speaker 
 of the House of Commons, author of " A History of the Romans under the Em- 
 pire." 8vo. 267 pp. Price, $2.00. 
 
 " No man living is better qualified to discuss the subject of this volume, and he has done it with 
 marked ability. He has done it. moreover, in the interest of Christian truth, and manifests thorough 
 appreciation of the spiritual nature and elements of Christianity."— EwmgeUst, 
 
 " The author is admirably qualified from his historical studies to connect theology with facts. 
 The subject is a great one, and it is treated with candor, vigor, and abundant command of materials 
 to bring out its salient points."— Boston Transcript. 
 
 Speeches and Occasional Addresses. 
 
 By John A. Dix. 2 vols., 8vo. With portrait. Cloth. Price, $7.<10. 
 
 " This collection is designed chiefly to make those who are to come after us acquainted with the 
 part I have borne in the national movement during a quarter of a century of extraordinary activity 
 and excitement:"— Extract from Dedication. 
 
 " General Dix has done a good service to American statesmanship and literature by publishing 
 In a collected form the fruits of his ripe experience and manly sagacity."— New York Tribme. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Christian Ballads. By the Right Rev. 
 
 A. Cleveland Ooxe, D.D., Bishop of Western New York. Illustrated by John 
 A. Hows. 1 vol., 8vo. 14 full page engravings, and nearly 60 head and tail 
 pieces. Price, cloth extra, $6.00 ; mor. ant. or extra, $9.00 ; crushed levant 
 mor., $10.00. 
 
 " These ballads have gained for the author an enviable distinction ; this work stands almost with- 
 out a rlvaL" — Christian Times. 
 
 "Not alone do they breathe a beautiful religious and Christianlike spirit, there is much real 
 and true poetry in them." — Home Journal. 
 
 Mount Vernon, and other Poems. By 
 
 Haevey Bice. 12mo. Cloth, $1.25 ; half calf, extra, $3.00 ; full calf, extra, $4.00. 
 
 " Fresh and original In Btyle and In thought. * * * Will be read with much satisfaction." — 
 Cleveland Leader. 
 
 The Internal Revenue Laws. Act ap- 
 
 proved June 80, 1864, aa amended, and the Act amendatory thereof approved 
 March 8, 1 865. With copious marginal references, a complete Analytical In- 
 dex, and Tables of Taxation. Compiled by Horace Dresser. 8vo. Paper, 
 G0c; cloth, §1.00. 
 
 " An Indispensable book for every citizen." 
 
 "An accurate and certainly a very complete and convenient manual."— Con-gregationalHl 
 
 The Classification of the Sciences. To 
 
 ■which are added Reasons for Dissenting from the Philosophy of JI. CttrrE. By 
 Herbert Spencer, Author of "Illustrations of Universal Progress," "Educa- 
 tion," " First Principles," "Essays: Moral, Political, and ^Esthetic," and the 
 " Principles of Psychology." 12mo. Paper. Price, 25 cents. 
 " In a brief, but clear manner, elaborates a plan of classification. "—Hartford a>nrant 
 
 Lyrical Recreations. By Samuel Ward. 
 
 Large 12mo. Cloth. Price, $2.00. 
 
 " Thorc Is a wealth of beauty which discovers Itself tho more wo linger over the book."— Jour- 
 nal of Commerce. 
 
 " Its pages bear abundant evidence of taste and culture."— Springfield Republican. 
 
 (Mean Lamar, and Other Poems, by 
 
 Sarah E. Knowles. 12mo. Cloth. Price, $1.25. 
 
 m V o 0t " nl y lively and attractive with fanoy, but It has tho excellence of being pure, moral, and 
 Christian."— ReliuloiiH Herald. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Lyra Anglicana ; or, A Hymnal of Sacred 
 
 Poetry. Selected from the best English writers, and arranged after the order of 
 the Apostles' Creed. By the Rev. George T. Eider, M.A. 12mo. Cloth, 
 extra, price, $2.00 ; morocco, or calf antique, price, $5.00. 
 
 " As beautiful and valuable a collection of Sacred Poetry as has ever appeared."—^. Zouia 
 Press. 
 
 ' Will be found very attractive from the warm devotional tone that pervades it." — N&w York 
 
 les. 
 
 41 Much of tho poetry is not found in American reprints." — Gospel Messenger. 
 
 Lyra Americana ; or, Yerses of Praise 
 
 and Faith, from American Poets. Selected and arranged "by the Rev. George 
 T. Eider, M.A. 12mo. Cloth, extra price, $2,00 ; morocco or calf antique, 
 price, $5.00. 
 
 " They are collections of the most beautiful and touching poetic expressions of devotion."— The 
 Chronicle. 
 
 " The collection is purely American ; the lyrics are all full of devotion and praise. Unusual 
 taste has been evinced in the selection of the poetry." — Troy Times. 
 
 On Radiation. The "Rede" Lecture, 
 
 delivered in the Senate House before the University of Cambridge, on Tuesday, 
 May 16, 1865, by John Tyndam,, F.R.S., Professor of Natural Philosophy in 
 the Royal Institute and in the Royal School of Mines. Author of " Heat con- 
 sidered as a Mode of Motion." 12mo. Cloth. Price BO cents. 
 
 Contributions to the Geology and the 
 
 Physical Geography of Mexico, including a Geological and Topographical Map, 
 with profiles of some of the principal mining districts. Together with a 
 graphic description of an ascent of the volcano Popocatepetl. Edited by 
 Baron F. W. Ton Egloffstein. Large 8vo. Illustrated. Cloth. Price, $4. 
 
 " The general interest excited on this continent as well as in Europe by late political events in 
 Mexico, where a wide field for mining and land speculation is about to be opened again to foreign 
 industry and foreign capital, has induced me to submit to the public two interesting publications 
 of this highly favored region."— Extract from Introduction. 
 
 Histoire de Jules Cesar. 
 
 Par S. M. I. Napoleon III. Tome Premier. 8vo. With Maps and Portrait. 
 Cloth. Price, $2.50. Without maps, paper, $1. 
 
 " No work has excited as much attention as the Life of Julius Csesar, by the Emperor Napoleon* 
 which-has been so many years in preparation, involving the expenditure of large sums of money 
 in procuring material and examining localities." — Miss. Republican. 
 
 "We are glad to see it in this form, because we get a clearer insight into the illustrious author 
 through his own vernacular. The original gives the best spirit of a book, and it is always to be pre- 
 ferred."— Boston Gazette. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 Tlio Handbook of Dining, or Corpulency 
 
 and Leanness Scientifically L'oiibidored ; comprising the Art of Dining on Cor- 
 rect Principles, Consistent with Easy Digestion, the Avoidance of Corpulency, 
 and the Cure of Leanness. Together with special remarks on the subjects. 
 By Brillat-Savabin, author of the " l'h\>ioIogie du Gout" Translated by 
 L. P. Simpson. 12mo. Cloth. Price, §1.25. 
 
 " This Is a book that almost everybody will wish to read, aa almost every one b eHher too fleshy 
 or too lean, and consequently will desire to see what directions so eminent a writer as Pavarlo 
 gives to prevent one and cure the other. The volume contains curious facts and suggestions 
 nnd souie very valuable ones."— Eastern Argus. 
 
 Freedom of Mind in Willing, or Every 
 
 Being that AVUls a Creative First Cause. By Rowland G. Hazard. 12mo 
 
 pp. 455. Cloth. Price, *2, 
 
 " It Is a very admirable work ; a book for thinkers." — Boston Gattttt. 
 
 " A valuable addition to the literature of tho subject ; Its style Is clear and Its arguments both 
 strong and well put." — The Methodist. 
 
 Beatrice. By Julia Kavanagh, author 
 
 of " Nathalie," " Adele," " Queen Mab," etc., etc. Three volumes in one. 12mo. 
 Cloth. Price, $2. 
 
 " This Is one of the best novels published In a long time. The authoress has achieved a reputa- 
 tion second to none In the Iltorary world as a romance writer. This Is her last creat effort, 
 nnd It is a remarkably Interesting one. The plot is a candid embodiment of great ideas acd ac- 
 tion." — Troy TimiM, 
 
 *' The Bcene is laid In one of tho suburbs of London. The Insight into certain phases of social 
 life which It gives Is curious. The heroine ' Beatrice* is a striking character. The plotting Vtrcb- 
 man ' (iVrvolse* Is also drawn with consummate art. In a word, there Is more real sturdy stuff 
 In Beatrice than in a score of the current novels of the day." — Albany Evening Journal- 
 
 Report of the Council of Hygiene and 
 
 Public ITcalth of the Citizens' Association of New York upon the Sanitary 
 Condition of the City. Published with an introductory statement, by order 
 of the Council of the Citizens' Association. Large 8vo, S60 pp. Illustrated 
 with numerous maps, plans, and sketches. Goth. Price, $5. 
 
 " Is devoted to a minute nrrount of the cnusns of dispose, death, and misery, and of the sani- 
 tary reforms needful to arrest those evils." — New York Erprew. 
 
 " No volume of Intenaer Interest has ever seen the light In this city than this record of the slate 
 of things now existing. The investigations have been most thorough."— .\V»r Yvl P.iper. 
 
 "The rr.ault is no more collection of statistics, but Interesting, deeply interesting rehearsals of 
 facts."— Xiw York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 At Anchor : A Story of our Civil War, 
 
 by an American, l'imo. Cloth. Price, $1.50. 
 
 " TIiIh u Rutnry or Hie wnr, well written and Interesting from (he beginning to (ho close. Those 
 
 who cniiiincrii'ii will tie sure in rem! It through." — /.\Weji Journal. 
 
 " A grnocful ami roadablo story of flirting nn.l fighting, ami love ana loyalty."— Omort- 
 
 gatlimtitUt, 
 
Mm 
 
 W^:; ! y^ : M^^Si 
 
 a& 
 
 
 '■ , ,. '